#'this is the story of how one man exits the world and takes everyone's emotions down with him'

[qilingxiong]

okay the thing is that everything i said about li lianhua and being a ghost and tying up every loose end before he leaves, is that that's what li lianhua hoped would happen. it is.... not the reality.

[theagstd]

One Night stand ; 08

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; strangers to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter eight ; wc | 3.1 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

I'm glad you decided to show up, an ultra scan can help you understand your body and the baby better." Dr Sohee speaks as she sees you looking at her timidly. She gives you a soft smile and gestures for you to join her to the scan room. you were told to remove your clothing from the waist down and your shirt was raised up.

you lie on the examination bed and look around the room, you're nervous and have no idea what you'll be seeing, what you're supposed to say and do. Sohee sees your state and can tell that you're anxious with the fumbling of your fingers and your closed eyes. "it's gonna be fine Y/n. Don't be tensed."

she applies a cold water based gel on your abdomen and uses her transducer to make contact with your skin as she spreads th gel and monitors the baby from the screen. Sohee's got a soft smile on her face and expects you to have a wider one however you look at the screen with a confused look a rather disappointed look sits on your face.

"do you know what you're seeing?" you shake your head, all you see is a weird shape that doesn't define anything like a baby. "this is the baby's head. at this stage of pregnancy, major organs are developed.

the shape of the face is beginning to form and that you see is the head." she points at the larger part of the visual that doesn't exactly look like a head to you but you understand it, you're getting how the baby looks. "the baby is the size of a bean, so the larger side is the head and the rest is the slowly forming body."

your eyes are immersed at the visuals you see through the screen, how amazing the world is, that you can see your baby through a monitor while he/she is inside you. you gulp, watching the screen closely. you didn't notice the sound of something thudding, until Sohee spoke. "that you hear is the heartbeats of the baby.

it's much faster than an adults, that's why it sounds like this." she chuckles. your eyes get cloudy when you hear the beating of the tiny human's heartbeats. it somehow brings a wave of relief to you that he/she is there. inside.

"the baby is fine." she speaks and you nod, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from letting those tears out. you're happy to hear that.

;

Silence. Guilt. Fear. Stupidity. And most importantly, confusion.

A whirlwind of emotions rushed through your body. The silence in the place where you both stood was loud. Jungkook appeared bewildered, while you desperately wished to disappear into the ground. "Shit," you muttered under your breath, swiftly pulling away from the man's arm that had been steadying you. You hurried down the stairs, this time with more caution.

You needed to escape before he started questioning you. This shouldn't have happened. You were in a massive mess. "Y/N?" He called out,

not Ms. Lee? just Y/N?

"Y/N, stop!" You exited the building, thankful that everyone was too engrossed in partying to notice your absence. You fought back the tears threatening to spill, terrified of how he would react if he learned the truth. You were anxious about your job, fearing he might fire you on top of everything else, and you worried about the pregnancy too. How could you have let it slip so easily, especially the pregnancy? Jungkook was quick to catch up with you, grabbing your arm to halt your steps.

He was done with your half-truths, he wanted the whole story or nothing at all. You never gave him the option of nothing; you always gave him more reasons to overthink, and he had enough of it. "Enough of the crap, Y/N." His voice was filled with urgency and anger. You stopped, feeling his tight grip on your wrist, and swallowed hard, knowing he wouldn't let this go. You didn't face him, staring blankly at the ground while he stood behind you, both of you struggling to catch your breath from the chase.

He moved to stand in front of you, just a few feet away, trying to make eye contact, but you weren't ready to meet his gaze. His intense stare, however, felt like it was burning through you, leaving you no choice but to look at him. Jungkook tried to read your expression, to understand the issue or even guess it, but he couldn't.

You had perfected a mask to hide your emotions, and it was working; he couldn't decipher what you were feeling. "What is all this about?" He finally voiced his frustration. If you wouldn't speak first, he would. He would do whatever it took to find out what you had been whispering and what you had screamed about moments ago. "What is what about?"

"Oh, not again," he groaned, turning aside and rubbing his forehead. "Y/N, don't play with me." "Mr. Jeon—" "Cut the formalities," Jungkook interrupted, stepping closer with a piercing gaze that only intensified your fear. His body language was sharp and forceful, though he maintained a respectful distance between you. "What do you mean by 'kill your child'?"

His question left you feeling exposed, your heart pounding in your chest. Everything was unraveling. The one person you wanted to avoid was now demanding answers. Deny, deny, deny. It was your only option. "What are you talking about?" You laughed nervously, avoiding his intense eye contact. Diverting his attention seemed like the best strategy. "When did I say that? What does it even mean?" Jungkook exhaled deeply, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Tell me, Y/N! Just tell me, stop covering this up!" "What are you asking me? When did I ever say—" "Fucking tell me!" he yelled, his face flushing red with anger. He couldn't let this go. You had directed those words at him, looking into his eyes when you said them. "It has to mean something!" You flinched at his raised tone, feeling the impatience and authority in his voice.

It echoed through your bones. He was desperate to understand the meaning behind your words and why you had said them. You stared at the ground, questioning all your life choices. Your gaze fell on his polished black office shoes while he continued to watch you, waiting for an answer. 'No, Y/N. You can't tell him.' But what else can you do? Who can you confide in about this? He has the right to know, doesn't he?

Jungkook counted the seconds, biting his inner cheeks with each passing moment. "i asked you something." "but i don't know what you're talking abo-" he caught you off guard by gripping your shoulders, making you look up at him in fear. He noticed your visible gulp, and his eyes softened slightly as he let go of your arms. "I'm asking you respectfully and kindly, Y/N. I expect you to give me my rightful answers." His words carried a sense of understanding, his tone calm.

He noticed your quickened breathing and realized you were hiding something significant. No one would react this way if it were trivial. You glanced at Jungkook and then at your fingers, which you had been fiddling with for hours. You were grateful for his patience, waiting for you to find the right words. You weren't just his employee; you were part of his past and now his future too. Even though it was just one night, that night had its significance.

What was supposed to be a simple fling had led to this situation. If Jungkook and you had never met and were merely employee and boss, this drama would never have occurred. But now, because of that night, everything was complicated.

Jungkook hadn't had a one-night stand in years. He had left his bad habits and addiction behind when he turned nineteen, determined to make a name for himself. After eleven years and only a few brief flings, you were his first one-night stand that he spent the whole night with, and he was furious that it had to be you. He might have suspected some things, but he wouldn't voice them unless you did. After about five minutes and some quick breathing tricks, you resolved to tell him. It was his decision once he knew the truth. "I'm waiting—"

"I am pregnant," you whispered under your breath, hoping he didn't hear it because you realized you lacked the confidence to say it louder. But Jungkook heard every word. He wasn't convinced, though. He had suspected you were pregnant but needed more confirmation, especially about the emphasis on 'your' at the stairs. "So the nurse was right?" "She was."

"And?" Now the discomfort was almost unbearable. Jungkook frowned as he saw your eyes filling with tears. He didn't understand why you were so emotional and vulnerable. He felt himself getting nervous and scared, as if you were about to drop a bomb that would hurt both of you. "I—I didn't want you to find out about th—" "Just tell me," he insisted.

"If this is something about pregnancy, then—" "Haven't you already guessed it?" you asked softly, looking at the ground, spotting each stone. He gaped at you, the thought crossing his mind, but he couldn't believe it. You looked at him with guilt, hoping he'd understand without you having to say it out loud. His instinctive and quick reaction made you chuckle.

"I don't understand this, Y/N. Stop beating around the bush for God's sake." "What more do you want me to tell you?" "So you're telling me that you're pregnant and that kid is mine? Are you insane?" You laughed out loud sarcastically with tears at his reaction. Of course, that was expected. No man, especially someone like Jeon Jungkook, would readily believe a normal, middle-class woman claiming to have his baby.

Jungkook was trying to process everything, but his mind felt like it had shut down. "You don't have to believe me. It's exactly why I told you it's nothing. You've got money, reputation. There's no way you're going to accept what I say," you spoke, and he tried to calm his mind. He didn't want to leave this conversation without fully understanding everything.

You pointed out the same things every woman he'd met did—money and reputation. At least he was glad that you weren't trying to manipulate him. "How are you so sure it's me? It could be anyone—your boy—" "I'm not in any relationship, and neither have I slept with anyone except you. That explains everything."

Jungkook's expression shifted, the reality of your words sinking in. He was struggling to accept the situation, but he knew you weren't lying. This wasn't just about money or reputation; it was about the truth, no matter how complicated and inconvenient it might be.

Jungkook took a deep breath, looking up at the sky as he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the tension. You bit your lip to keep from crying. 'See, Y/N, he's not going to say anything. Why would he?' You must make a choice, alone now. "When did you find out about this?" he asked. "Why are you still curious to know?" "Because I want to know." His responses were instant, straightforward, and clear, as if he had it all on the tip of his tongue.

His gaze made you speak up. You weren't afraid, just mentally exhausted, ready to give up. Maybe saying it all would ease your burden, even if he wasn't going to help much. "I found out the same day you told me to get a checkup done." "That's a long time." His eyes showed more concern than anger. You could see his eyes widening before he huffed and zoned out.

You weren't sure what he was thinking, but his reaction was unexpected. Why wasn't he bombarding you with questions and making you feel guilty? The silence was killing you. "Mr. Jeo—" "Just call me Jungkook. I'm not your boss right now." His tone was soft, almost a whisper, telling you it was fine to call him by his name. He wasn't your boss right now; he was the man you slept with and the man who might be the father of your child.

"I'm not sure why you're still standing here and listening when you don't believe me. I get it. Anyone would think I'm joking or playing with you, but I'm not. I never wanted you to know about this in the first place." "Why not?" He looked into your eyes, searching for a reason. "Jungkook, do you really believe me?!" He exhaled deeply, chuckling at your continued disbelief.

He knew and believed. "Doesn't it make sense? Do you even remember what happened that nig— you know what, come with me." He didn't want to discuss that night in detail in front of the company. He walked toward the elevator, glancing over his shoulder to see if you were following. Hesitantly, you did, wanting to clear this out.

It felt weird. Even though you both had a one-night stand before being boss and employee, this whole place made it seem like you were committing a sin by discussing that night. You followed him to his office room, where no one would come, especially with everyone busy partying upstairs. "I'm just going to ask you a simple question. Were you aware of this from the beginning and pretending that you didn't know, or is this all serious?"

You stared at him, disbelief and frustration mixing in your expression. "You're really asking if I got myself pregnant on purpose and was pretending about it? What?" He scowled, knowing the implication behind his words. "You really think I would do this for money? For your name? You know what, fuck this. I should've never told you about this!" Your voice trembled with anger. You were having the worst time of your life since finding out about the pregnancy, and now he was implying it was an act for money. He may not have said it outright, but his look said it all.

Here you were, being questioned as if you were some gold digger putting on a dramatic act to get money. Your eyes darted around the room, and the only thing you could think of was a drink. Screw the pregnancy, screw him, and screw the world. "I need a drink—"

"Y/N, no." He grabbed your wrist before you could run away again like you did before."Yes, I did this all for your money and name, happy? I don't need money or a name. The problem is this freaking pregnancy, so I'm gonna get rid of it so we both are safe—your money and reputation too." "Y/N, you're not gonna do anything stupid." "You're no one to tell me that I'm stupid! Let me go." Your words came through gritted teeth as you glared at him.

He wasn't afraid of your glare; he was afraid of what you might do once you left the room. There was no way he was going to let you out until this was sorted. "We need to talk, Y/N.""Talk? About what? You just told me what you thought about all this." "Don't jump to conclusions." You faced him fully, stepping closer, eyes locked on his. Jungkook never thought of you that way, but all this reminded him of his past, making him fear it would repeat.

He didn't know you well; you were still a mystery to him. But he was afraid of being misled again. "Firstly, I'm not the woman you're assuming I am. Secondly, this is all a mistake!" Your words were bitter, and he felt it deep in his chest. He looked down into your eyes, and you looked up into his.

You were angry, and he could see it. Meanwhile, he was staying calm, which infuriated you even more. "If this is a mistake, then why haven't you gotten rid of it?" His question hit you right where it hurt, the question that had been gnawing at you but had no answer.

"Why haven't you gotten rid of it yet? If this is a mistake, then why?" The anger inside you turned into sadness, confusion, and guilt. You couldn't meet his gaze, feeling his eyes burning into you. Jungkook clenched his jaw, memories of that night flashing through his mind. "Answer me." He spoke softly, almost a whisper, desperate to understand. He knew you weren't someone who would do anything for money and status. Anyone else in your place would have gotten rid of it, but you hadn't. "I-I don't know."

You stammered, your words barely audible. You gulped, taking a deep breath as your chest tightened. Being questioned was the worst situation to be in. "Why don't you know? You said this is a mistake. What's stopping you from correcting it?" It felt like your heart was in your mouth, and you couldn't speak. Your hands were numb, and you were sweating despite the air-conditioned room. "I-I don't know." "You can't say you don't know! There has to be an answer—"

His voice grew louder, ringing in your ears and making you question everything. "What do you mean you don't—" "I'm scared. I'm just so scared to take a step. I'm alone in this! I don't know what to do, who to ask. I'm so stressed out, my mind isn't working. I'm so fucked up!" You blurted out everything in your mind, bursting into tears. The pressure you had been holding inside finally released, and you felt a bit of relief.

"I'm sleep-deprived, I can't focus, I can't make a decision!" "Why don't you just get rid of it?" "Because it makes me feel guilty!" You looked up to meet his eyes, his furrowed brows and worried eyes showing that your words affected him. He didn't fully understand, but he was trying, and he could see why you'd been acting strangely. You weren't okay.

He could see it now, you were vulnerable, not because you wanted to show it, but because your emotions could no longer be contained. "It makes me feel guilty. I tried to do it, but it wasn't working out."

Jungkook decided to give you time, not wanting to push further questions considering how much was on your mind and heart. He had to calm you down but didn't know how. He'd never helped a woman calm down before. "First, breathe. Take a deep breath." You followed his instructions, controlling your tears until they stopped. "Okay? Can we talk calmly now?" You nodded, and he did too. "Do you want to keep it or not? I need a clear answer. Whatever it is, I will support you in any way I can."

You looked up at him, seeing his seriousness. You had a decision in mind but weren't sure how he could support you. But that was something to address after giving him the answer he sought.

"I want to keep it."

next chapter ⇢

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

Hi! 59+107 for the trope mashup please!

helloooo thank you for asking !!

59 Miscommunication + 107 Accidental/Embarrassing/Unusual Turn Ons 

It started on their honeymoon. 

The day was beautiful, and wonderful and inconspicuously emotionally draining. Between scrambling for a venue and marrying the love of his life, Mickey felt this jarring tiredness and vulnerability at the end of the day. Instead of closing up or brushing it off, he realized he was settled comfortably in the arms of his husband and just spilled over.

If Ian knew getting married was all it took to get Mickey to actually talk to him, he would have done it when he was sixteen. Mickey told him everything; his doubts, childhood fears, self criticisms all laid out so beautifully and openly for him. 

He was asking Ian too, questions no one had ever asked. Questions that must have been mulling around for years that made him realize no one had ever wanted to know him so deeply before. 

Once Mickey’s eyes started shining, it was game over for Ian. Affection, admiration, and arousal had been building up in him since Mickey started talking, but when he began crying and staring up at Ian through dark, wet lashes Ian couldn’t help but kiss along heated skin until words turned to breathy sighs.

He didn’t think it was weird that night, obviously it was a very romantic environment, their emotions were running high. He didn’t question it during lockdown, they’d learned early on to keep things light, and as the de facto adults in the house they struggled to get time together for much more than a quick bite, a quick talk, or a quick fuck. 

It was always Liam needing help with online schooling, or one of them finding a gig that would let them make some much needed cash, or everyone needing three whole meals a day. So it didn’t come up again until they moved into the new place.

Their apartment became this place of refuge for the newlyweds. The warm radiance of the fireplace blanketed over them as Ian brought an arm around Mickey’s shoulders, rubbing firmly as he they traded stories, jokes, anecdotes. The dim glow of the range light in their kitchen softly illuminated the crests of cheeks and brows and lips as they leaned in close over a tub of ice cream at night, voices low despite not worrying about waking anyone up. 

And most importantly, the last thing they did at the end of most days was climb into bed together, laying close before they turned off the soft, blushing light of their bedside lamp. Only one, because Mickey liked to be pressed up against the wall, eyes dancing as he curled up facing Ian.

All their most private conversations ended in sex. Ian couldn’t imagine a world in which their married life became any less exiting sexually, he was just so turned on by the sheer intimacy of the life they shared together.

It was getting worse, and Mickey was getting suspicious. He started giving Ian weird looks when he got a blowjob against the kitchen table while begrudgingly folding laundry, but actually confronted him while they were talking about the first days with the new hires, propped up in bed together. 

“-And it was fine when it was just me and you figuring it out, it was fine because all we had was a stolen ambulance and the fucking Alibi brownie business. But now it’s all official and we’ve really invested in it, and now we’re bringing on employees and we have to be bosses. And I guess I’m just worried-like, how is anyone going to take me seriously as a fucking boss man?”

Ian grinned, rolling slightly so he could rub softly against Mickey’s lower belly, cooing reassurances into the skin of his neck and shoulder until he was just pressing his lips there, hand wandering lower and hips jutting-

“Okay, stop-stop, Ian cut it out” Mickey cut in urgently, sitting up further. 

“What?” Ian said, staring curiously up at him.

“I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but it’s like every time I try to y’know-talk to you, about how I’m fucking feeling you try to shut me up with sex. It’s like you’re chomping at the fucking bit to get me to stop talking so you can fucking plow me and thats fucking fine it just comes across as a little strange for you to act like you don’t even care after years of getting on me about not opening up enough.”

Ian’s stomach dropped, he couldn’t understand how Mickey had gotten it so wrong, but when he thought about it, maybe he did instigate sex a lot more in the middle of a conversation because he just got so incredibly turned on at the sound of emotion in his husbands voice. He backed up slightly, keeping a hand on Mickey’s chest but moving back so he could look him in the eye properly.

“I’m-I didn’t realize I was doing that, I - we - listen” Ian stuttered. “I don’t really know how to explain this.”

Mickey stared at him uncertainly, not bailing him out. So Ian laid back and rubbed a hand over his face, “I just love you so much, and ever since we’ve been married you’ve been so…open with me. And every time you share how you’re feeling it just proves how much you trust me and how healthy we are” Ian explained haltingly gesturing between them “and it just really, really turns me on.”

Face screwing up in confusion, Mickey’s eyes flicked back and forth and his hands frozen the air, “so you’re humping me when I tell you I’m worried about being taken seriously by our fucking employees because I…love you?”

“Yes-no! It’s, yes because we love each other, but also because we trust each other, and we confide in each other and I finally get to know everything about you because we’re fucking married.”

Mickey’s face melted slightly into something more understanding, then something a little more teasing “so you’re saying that, your super secret kink is loving married people sex?”

Ian thought about it for a second, “I have a ton of other, much cooler kinks, just to be clear. But yeah, it’s looking like that’s definitely one of them.”

To his surprise Mickey just laughed a little, leaning in to kiss his husband teasingly “you have always been such a boy-scout, Gallagher.”

Hope you liked it!

Also yes, I did take inspriation from that Scmitt and Cece scene in New Girl, iykyk ;)

[emoticonheart]

lol kinda spontaneous, but the next chapter of the burp soulmate story inspired by @moraygrotto is here!! as always, i'll link the story on ao3 here and post it below as well!!

The line in front of the nearest SIMA building was, as expected, extremely long.

SIMA-- which stood for Soulsign Identification and Matching Agency-- was an international organization meant to help expedite the process of finding someone with the same soulmate sign as you. It was supposedly a simple process; all you had to do was prove that you had a soulmate sign, and they would add it to the registry. Once there was a match with someone else, you would get a text or a call. Sometimes, if the sign was too vague (like: i can feel whatever emotions my soulmate is feeling) then a list would be mailed to you with people that have similar soulmate signs. From there, you could at least try to narrow it down.

The organization was meant to make it easier to find your soulmate, especially if said soulmate lived on the other side of the world, but the way the organization was RUN made it harder that it should've been. The long wait times were a prime example of this.

But Sierra didn't seem to mind, and so the two of them took their spots in the back of the line, a smug smile on her face.

Conner stood awkwardly next to her, sweating with nerves. One of the things that came with registering your soulmate sign with SIMA was that you were given a new ID on the spot, one that had your soulmate sign written just below your picture. You'd have to trash your old ID and replace it with the new one, and Conner did not want to replace his old drivers license with one that has BURP SYNCHRONIZATION or something like that written on it.

He was hoping that since he had already found his soulmate, he wouldn't have to worry about registering, but it seemed Sierra had other plans.

As they crawled their way through the line, they approached one of the SIMA agents, who was watching over the line.

"Excuse me, sir," Conner said, getting his attention. "About how much longer should we expect to be waiting in line?"

"Two hours," he said sharply.

Conner frowned as he turned to Sierra. "Are you sure you don't wanna come back a different day? Maybe we can get here right as they open on Saturday and maybe the line won't be so--"

"Nope," Sierra shook her head. "We're doing this today."

Conner sighed. So be it.

They continued to wait in line in silence, until suddenly a commotion in the front of the line caused Conner to look up.

"Fuck!" someone shouted from up front. "Someone up front reeks!"

A bunch of people began filing out of the building as quickly as they could, pinching their noses and waving their hands in front of them. Conner took this as a sign to leave, but before he could take a step, Sierra grabbed a hand.

"We're staying," she said.

"But, everyone else is--"

"That just means our wait will be shorter."

Conner sighed. There really was no getting out of this.

By the time everyone had cleared out and order had been restored, Conner and Sierra found themselves to be next in line. As they walked toward the next available agent, they passed by a man in a suit and tie making his way towards the exit. But first, he looked over at the two of them and winked. "You're welcome."

Conner just gave him a weird look, but Sierra whisperered. "He probably set off a stink bomb so that he could be first in line. I've heard that's been happening a lot recently."

Conner frowned, but decided not to ask anymore questions. As they approached the desk, Conner could finally pick up the stench lingering in the air. Yeah, definitely a stink bomb.

The lady on the other side of the desk looked like she wanted to die. "IDs?"

Conner and Sierra slid their driver's licenses over to her. She took a quick scan of them before sitting back down, but she didn't give them back.

"Are you both registering under the same soulmate sign?"

Sierra nodded. "We just need new IDs."

Conner's heart dropped. So that's what this was about? But he specifically didn't want a new ID!

He opened his mouth to tell Sierra just this, but she must've sensed what he was about to say, because she shot him a glare that made his blood run cold. He kept his mouth shut.

"Fine," the lady said. "And what's the soulmate sign you'd like to register yourself under."

"I'm sure you don't have this one in your registry yet," she smirked. "'Burp synchronization.'"

She gave Sierra a look behind her glasses. "Come again?"

"It's simple, really. When I burp, he burps. And when he burps, I burp."

"Are... are you sure that's what your sign is?"

Sierra raised an eyebrow cockily. "Want proof?"

Conner began waving his hands, already seeing where she was going with this. "Sierra, no. No no no no--"

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP

Without warning, Sierra opened her mouth and ripped an insanely loud belch, one that echoed around the walls of the entire office. And since Conner didn't have time to close his mouth, his burp was just as loud, making the volume of their combined gas almost unbearable.

When it was over, Conner slapped both hands over his mouth, burning from embarrassment from head to toe. Sierra, on the other hand, just smirked at the agent.

"That good enough for ya?"

Conner made the mistake of looking around, and he saw all the eyes on them, all the looks of disgust. Oh how he wished the ground would open up and swallow them whole.

The agent sighed. "I guess so. 'Burp Synchronization' it is. I'll go ahead and print out those new IDs."

Sierra smiled as the agent walked to the back office to do just that. Once she was out of sight, Conner glared at Sierra. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" she said innocently. "She said she needed proof!"

"So you had to embarrass me like that?"

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, but what else were we supposed to prove it?"

"Why do we even need new IDs in the first place. Soulmark IDs are only for those who need extra help with finding their soulmate, but we already found each other!"

Sierra rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You wouldn't get it."

"You're right about that."

The two of them crossed their arms and huffed as they turned away from each other. Conner just couldn't wait for this to be over so that he could go home and forget all this embarrassment.

Finally, the agent came back and slid their new IDs over to them. Conner frowned as, sure enough, BURP SYNCHRONIZATION was plastered right underneath his ID photo.

Joy.

"Here you go," she said "NEXT!"

The two of them quickly shoved their new IDs in their wallets before making their way out of the building. As soon as they were out of the stuffy office, Sierra waved to Conner.

"Well, uh, see you later, I guess."

"Wait!"

Sierra stopped trying to walk away and turned to Conner, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Can I... have your number?"

Sierra's face twisted in disgust. "Why?"

Conner ignored the sting that came along with that as he shrugged. "I mean, as much as you may not like it, we are soulmates. Don't you wanna at least try making this work?"

Sierra narrowed her eyes in contemplation before finally sighing, making her way back over to him. "Fine. Give me your phone."

Conner did just that, and he watched as she aggressively typed out the number on his phone before handing it back. He took a look, and saw that she had already sent herself a text with just his name, assumedly so that she could save his number on her phone.

"There," she said. "Now, just don't blow up my phone, okay? Let's take things slow."

Conner nodded. He couldn't agree more.

As Sierra walked away for good this time, Conner couldn't help but pull out his new ID. Tears began forming in his eyes as he took at the two new words plastered on it.

What did he do to deserve this?

[mindfuljujutsu]

No Strings Attached, Part 2

Yuki returns to Jujutsu Tech to assist with a complex cursed case. Her encounters with Gojo, her former friend and source of past heartbreak, stir up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

words: 1 930

Warnings: None. It does get a bit angsty at the end, but not really.

a/n: Welcome to Part 2 of the 'No Strings Attached' series. We've jumped ten years ahead from the last part. While it might seem a bit confusing, rest assured, all will become clear as you delve deeper into the story. Trust the process 😉. Happy reading!"

2023

Yuki was hit with waves of nostalgia as she walked the grounds of Jujutsu Tech. It had been ten years since she last set foot in this place, and not much had changed. She hummed to herself as she strolled down the familiar corridors toward the dorms, where she would temporarily be staying.

A few days ago, Yuki had received an urgent phone call from Yaga, practically begging her to come to Tokyo for a cursed job. He had described the case as unlike anything he'd ever seen, and they needed all the help they could get, especially from special-grade sorcerers like herself. She had agreed to help but could only make it after wrapping up her current job in Kyoto.

She had just finished a meeting with Yaga, discussing the details of this extraordinary case. According to him, Geto was responsible for the massive mess they were dealing with. Her heart ached at the thought of someone she once knew turning to such evil ways, and she couldn't help but wonder what Gojo was going through.

Gojo. A name she hadn't given much thought to in the past ten years. After leaving Tokyo abruptly, she had never looked back, erasing Gojo and everyone else she left behind from her memory.

As she exited the building, her attention was briefly caught by a group of friends walking toward her. However, it was the tall and quiet boy among them who truly captured her focus. 

Megumi was walking in the midst of his friends, seemingly lost in his own world. He looked exactly as she remembered him, except he was now practically an adult.

"Megumi," she said in disbelief, stopping and staring at the boy who walked past her without notice.

Hearing his name, Megumi paused and looked at her. At first, there was no recognition in his eyes, but Yuki knew the moment when he finally recognized her.

"Yuki?" Megumi whispered, taking a hesitant step toward her.

Yuki examined the grown-up Megumi and laughed in disbelief at the man he had become. "Wow," she said, covering her mouth. "You've grown up to be quite handsome."

Without thinking, she closed the distance between them and pulled Megumi into a tight embrace, which he hardly returned. Megumi, who had only reached her waist ten years ago, now towered over her in height.

She pulled away and placed a loving hand on his cheek, examining his features. He was truly handsome. "Gumi, look at you. You're all grown up now."

A light pink blush tinged Megumi's cheeks at her attention. "What are you doing here?"

"Yaga called me in to help with a job. I won't be here for long," Yuki admitted, noticing a slight deflation in his posture. "But while I'm here, I'd like to take you out for lunch one day."

"I'd really like that," Megumi nodded, giving her a rare smile.

"What's going on here?" A very familiar voice teased. It was a voice Yuki knew she'd have to face, but she had hoped it wouldn't be so soon after her arrival.

Yuki turned to see the white-haired man standing behind her and smiled hesitantly at him. "Gojo."

The smile vanished from Gojo's face, replaced by a look of utter shock and disbelief.

Gojo still looked exactly as she remembered him—tall, handsome, and cocky. The only change was that his sunglasses were replaced with a black blindfold over his eyes.

"Hello," Yuki offered, feeling unsure about how Gojo would react to her unexpected reappearance. "It's nice to see you again, Gojo."

Gojo visibly gulped before he cleared his throat. He offered Yuki a smile that seemed too tense to be real or genuine. "Yuki, what brings you back to Jujutsu Tech?"

"Yaga called me in for some help."

He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "I see."

"Excuse me, but are we missing something here?" An unknown boy with pink hair asked, raising his hands as if asking a question in class.

"Oh," Megumi mumbled. "This is Yuki. She used to be a student here. She's an… old friend of Gojo's."

"Yuki, let me introduce you to everyone. This is Yuji, Nobara, Maki, Panda, and Toge."

Yuki smiled sweetly at each student as they were introduced. "It's nice to meet all of you. It's an honor to meet friends of Megumi."

"Aren't you a little young to be friends with Gojo?" Nobara asked, tilting her head and eyeing Yuki up and down.

"I'm not as young as I appear," Yuki began, feeling somewhat flattered that they thought she was much younger than Gojo. "But Gojo is a few years older than me."

"And you two are friends?" Panda asked, pointing between Yuki and Gojo. 

Yuki could tell that the rest of the group was suspicious about their relationship because the two of them were definitely not acting like friends, but more like strangers.

"Yes, we're friends," Yuki confirmed, trying to sound confident. However, her statement lacked something, and Nobara snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They're 100% exes," she smirked. "I know this kind of body language anywhere. Saw it all the time."

"What nonsense!" Gojo nervously laughed and swatted the air as if trying to dismiss Nobara's words. “We never dated.”

"Then if you didn't date, you were probably doing some other things," Nobara playfully raised her eyebrows with a cheeky smile.

Yuki was too dumbstruck to say anything. Was it normal for students to have such a casual conversation with their teacher, especially about their personal lives? She didn't remember having this kind of relationship with her own teacher, but perhaps these students acted this way because Gojo was their teacher. He was too nonchalant and chill to be a typical authority figure.

"Bingo," Panda laughed. "Look at their faces!"

"Don't all of you have someplace to be?" Gojo asked, attempting to change the subject and get them to leave him alone with Yuki.

"Let's go," Megumi mumbled, already walking away before anyone could protest. He paused and turned to look back at Yuki. "I'll see you around?"

Yuki nodded, "Yes. We'll have lunch like I promised."

Megumi nodded once more before continuing his walk. His group of friends followed closely behind, waving at Yuki and shouting that it was nice meeting her.

"They're a nice group," Yuki mused, still watching the friends walking into the distance. "I'm glad that Megumi has finally found a group he fits in with."

"They can be a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes," Gojo said, smiling at Yuki.

"Well, now you know what Yaga must've felt like when he was your teacher, but multiply it by 100," Yuki teased.

"I wasn't that bad," Gojo shook his head. "Besides, it was never just me. The rest were bad influences."

"Where are the rest of your friends? Are they teaching too?"

"Nanami works here, and Utahime is in Kyoto, but Shoko works in the school morgue and also serves as the school healer."

"Wow. Nanami as a teacher? I'd love to see that," Yuki mused, trying to picture the usually stiff and stoic Nanami teaching a group of young teenagers in a place he never wanted to be.

"It's a long story," Gojo shrugged. "Where are you staying?"

"Yaga said I could sleep in one of the dorms while I'm here. There are plenty of empty ones, so I'll have my pick."

"You can stay with me if you want."

Yuki raised an eyebrow at Gojo, but from his expression, she could tell that Gojo had blurted out the offer without much thought.

Yuki chuckled but politely declined. "I think the dorms will be fine. I need to be close to the Tech in case Yaga needs me for something."

Deciding that she had spent enough time chatting with Gojo, Yuki smiled at him one more time.

"It was nice seeing you again, Gojo. I'll probably be seeing you around."

She nodded in farewell before turning and heading on her way.

"We should catch up whenever you're free!" Gojo called out from behind her, but instead of responding, she just continued walking and raised her hand in acknowledgment.

If Gojo thought it would be that easy to be friends again, well, he had another thing coming. All couldn't be forgiven after what had happened between them ten years ago. She would never forget how much he had hurt her on that last day she saw him before leaving.

—————

Yuki had settled into one of the empty dorm rooms, unpacking her belongings while glancing at the old photos she had brought with her. Memories flooded back as she looked at pictures of her younger self with Gojo and Megumi. She couldn't deny that a part of her missed those times, even though they ended on a bitter note.

As she sorted through her things, there was a soft knock on the door. Yuki opened it to find Gojo standing there, a casual yet somewhat nervous expression on his face.

Yuki felt herself internally sighing. Seeing Gojo earlier was her daily limit of being in his presence. Too much of Gojo was just going to put her in a cranky mood, which she was really trying to avoid. She was also trying to avoid the confrontation she knew was going to happen.

"Hey," he greeted, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "I thought I'd drop by and see if you're settling in okay."

Yuki nodded, surprised by his visit but not entirely unwelcoming. "Yeah, everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

They stood there for a moment, an awkward silence hanging in the air. It was clear that Gojo had a lot he wanted to say but was unsure how to begin.

Gojo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Look, Yuki, about earlier... I know it was a bit of a surprise. I didn't expect to see you again, and I'm sure you didn't expect to see me either."

Yuki folded her arms, her gaze steady but guarded. “When I got the call from Yaga I knew I would inevitably bump into you, Gojo.”

He nodded, understanding the unspoken tension between them. "I just want you to know that I'm not the same person I was back then. I've changed, Yuki."

Yuki met his gaze, her expression hardening. "Have you really?"

Gojo sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know I messed up, and I'm not expecting you to forgive me just like that. But if you're willing to give it a chance, I'd like to try and make things right, even if it's just as friends."

Yuki's eyes narrowed, her voice laced with bitterness. "You think you can waltz back into my life after what you did? You destroyed everything.”

He winced, pain flashing across his face. "I know, Yuki. I can't change the past, but I want to try and make amends. I've spent years regretting what I said and how I acted that day.”

Yuki shook her head, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Gojo. You hurt me in ways you can't even imagine. I can't just forget that and be friends with you."

Gojo swallowed hard, the weight of his past mistakes heavy on his shoulders. "I understand, Yuki. If you ever change your mind, know that I'll be here."

With that, Gojo turned and walked away, leaving Yuki alone in her dorm room with a heart heavy with unresolved pain and anger. They had both changed, but some wounds ran too deep to be healed by a simple apology.

a/n: I hope you found this chapter enjoyable! Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. Also, what do you think happened between Yuki and Gojo? Why did Yuki leave Tokyo? You'll find out soon!

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

dw rewatch - takes from "rose"

companion watch:

Rose kinda plays the role of Ian in this episode. Action man. Etc

When Nine exits the frame in the Famous Walking Single Shot and Rose is left befuddled, after a second, she runs back- but it’s too late. The TARDIS is gone. It’s OK though because she’ll get a second chance. This moment is then repeated again at the end, giving us an expectation for Rose’s choices and specially, their timing. And... Rose takes a while to take the plunge… but gets there in the end. This is the emotional arc of the episode. If there’s an "appeal" to this story, beyond aliens, comedy, and its weight.. on its own, the pull of "Rose" is inspiring bravery. As Rose will say later, it’s not about the adventures or the aliens or the wonder... “it’s about taking a stance and doing what’s right, when everyone else just runs away”.

And it’s true: no one wants to solve the issues at hand: Jackie is more concerned with compensation, Mickey says “leave him!” when Nine is about to be slurped in physchic plastic lava, and no one on earth seems to know what is going on. But Rose is there to show that we all have a part to play in history, we all have a call at some point to do what’s right and to act. Even if we’re afraid or widely out of our depths. This is what makes the first adventure click, it's a universal story.

- “I got the bronze” even at "most condecorated" stage, Rose's archivement are very mundane and down-to-earth.

- Jimmy Stone / The Doctor parallels? Perhaps...? She definitely swore off pursuing her A-levels after this adventure.

- With just a few pointed lines, we learn that Rose’s relationship with her mom has some friction. It’s not a day after she almost died and Jackie is already pushing Rose to look for another job. She won’t coddle her and will make that loud and clear. There’s also a bit of… resentment? envy? In how she says it’s good Rose lost her job at the shop because it was giving her “airs and graces” (!!). It seems she wants her succeed but not in a way that makes her leaver her (oh hello, Jackie’s arc, nice to meet you). Also this line: “ Honestly, it's aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now you'd think I was her daughter.”

- At the same time, we get from this episode’s climax (with Rose’s moment being intercut with Jackie’s almost dying, almost as if the editing is suggesting she can feel her mom’s in danger) that... at this moment, she’s the most important person for Rose. Which is sweet, it's a complicated, real relationship.

Themes: - Bodies used and discarded, separation of physical bodies and consciousness. The Doctor inspiring people to do brave actions. Mundanity and the extraordinary. Internet Culture and Fandom. Environmental crisis (blink and you'll miss it). London as a cosmo-politan city. Diplomacy vs violence. - vigilante justice and underground wars. conspiracies. "Well, who else is there? I mean, you lot, all you do is eat chips, go to bed, and watch telly, while all the time, underneath you, there's a war going on." A clear tension between the (relatively) comfy lives the Tylers live and the "world out there" that's burning in flames.

- Nine rumages over Rose’s living room, and this is how he finds her last name. Is this awkwardness? Or is this trying to “figure her out” in advance like Auton mystery? How much of this adventure was The Doctor inadvertly trying to impress her?. The Doctor as the maligned “shoot the messenger” trope.

Timeless Child Retroactive Continuity Bonus:

- Nine answers Rose by saying what he can do, not really who he is… or does he? what is the doctor but a title for someone whose entire identity is built around what they do (and not their memories, personalities or physicalities, as these are in constant flux)? Axiom 2 from this: the doctor's sense of self is only defined in the present moment. their sense of identity holds no permanence.

- The closest we get in the answer is the “I’m in despair” with a “if we let go…” what does it mean? We fall into the vacuum? We fall to existential despair, like Nine is right now after the Time War? Or perhaps that, like in Torchwood… “we’re moths clinging to the flame”, in the cosmic scale, all life is really, really small and really, really fragile.

- Could this space/time sixth-sens be a unique ability of the Doctor’s OG species? The mythology used to be that all time lords developed this sensibility to time, and that’s what allowed them to time travel. However, all other time lord characters dont seem to care very much about the universe around them. We know now that The Doctor has a special relationship to “Time”. Maybe, The Doctor’s gone so long assuming this is something every TL could do, when really is just something they could do.

Blorbos:

- Nine’s little “ok” when Rose’s turns him down TOT. Imagine taking a chance of being attached and vulnerable after being so traumatized and war-scarred and then. REJECTION. headcanon that that little eu gap is mostly him just processing this and getting the urge to ask the girl out again lol

- Nine and Rose hold hands so much here omg - Nine says he knew Mickey could survive but doesn’t confide this information to Rose. Was he trying to protect her feelings, in case it turned out Mickey was indeed dead? / - “Oh, I didn’t think about that”

Colonialism / Hegemony:

- The doctor shows a lot of prejudice to humans in this. And honestly, this gives me a lot of conflicting feelings. One thing I'm trying to do in this rewatch is keep a firm eye on the "white savior/colonialist fiction aesthetic/neoliberal power fantasy" spectrum of things and see what sort of things pop out. I think Nine's immediate "I'm so much Smarter and Intellectual THEREFORE I know what's best in Every situation" is a very good (bad) fuel to this strand of critique.

- but, it is narrative effective. it’s effective at showing us he’s quite full of himself, and humbling the viewer by telling them that hey, you don’t know everything that will happen in this show! - It also makes sense for Nine in particular to be this cynical, given what we know he's lived. But there’s also something a bit … grossly Victorian Intellectual about it. It feels like the pulpy DNA ethos, the one that comes from white “humanists” and “rationalists”, is very loud in those moments.

- In Dramatic Justice terms, The Doctor’s decision to seek a diplomatic solution comes at the cost Clive his life. Although we’re clearly meant to admire 9’s diplomacy, it is ultimately proven useless materially. But although there's an interest in reading the moment as virtuous, there's an ambiguity by Clive’s meta that in some ways The Doctor is a cause of destruction (which is a beat the series has never quite connected and I'll get to in s2... the timelords, and by extension, the doctor, were the cause of all these messes, but much like irl brittish imperialism and usa neoimperialism, the narrative is blind to their responsibility on the current mess).

- We learn the Nestene consciousness has high tech but not as high as the Time Lord’s (it gets scared by the TARDIS).

You cannot reason with an Invading force. That Nine attempts to do so without offering the Nastene any kind of deal, when he’s aware that they’re doing out of a need for Survival, for basic resources, seems almost like self-sabotage.

- Obviously, the implication is that humanity has caused this by being so damn contaminating. But The Nastene could’ve just eaten all the plastic and toxins honestly, would’ve done us a favor. Possibility for a symbiotic episode one day in the future?

[sio-writes]

Witch's Gambit - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I'd like to introduce you to my NaNoWriMo project, Witch's Gambit! It tells the story of Lucy Breban, a witch living in the magical city of Grayslate. After her good friend Elliot is murdered in cold blood, Lucy must employ the help of her reclusive, skeletal neighbor Weston when the answers the police provide aren't enough. As they get closer to the truth (as well as each other), the two begin to unravel an underground secret that could rock the very foundations of the place they call home.

I'm super excited to bring this to you guys! I actually have a buffer of about 10 chapters as opposed to...well none, lol, so hopefully that gives me enough time to make some proper edits and polish it even more for you all.

Tags for this chapter are: Heavy violence, and minor character death.

Elliot Forsythe died sometime between seven-thirty and midnight last night, decapitated and drained of his vampiric blood. He's tall and lanky, he had cropped black hair, and skin pale as marble. He was the first friend I made upon moving to Grayslate, my neighbor for close to five years. The winter cloak I'd been meaning to return to him still sits in my hallway closet. 

Reading his memories feels like a violation, but I try to tell myself that he'd want me to do this, he'd want me to confirm it. I'd been asked, begged really, by Alma to be here. My messaging stone had gone warm with all her calls, and when I'd finally answered she'd been frantic and out of sorts. The news hadn't had time to truly set in before I was being questioned by two white men in their late forties, then sat in front of my friend's body, tracing sigils on the floor around him in chalk.

I'm thrust into memories that aren't mine, taking his place as if I were there. His childhood in the countryside with two doting if slightly overprotective parents. The fling with a naga I recognize as owning the bakery down the street makes my heart flutter as his did. Adopting his golden retriever that he named Paul brings such a rush of joy I temporarily forget I'm reading the memories of a dead man. I can smell the apple crumble his mother would bake every year for his birthday, even bringing it out on a visit when he moved to the city. The breeze in my hair is refreshing as he rides his bike to the store. 

I've been on that bike, held my legs stiff on the back wheel as he pedaled, cutting a corner too quick and nearly throwing us into traffic. We went to dingy concerts together, celebrated holidays, drank tea on Sundays when all the attractive folk were exiting the yoga studio. 

And now I'm kneeling on the floor, touching his corpse, watching memories that aren't mine. 

Soul imprints start at the beginning, so I have to sift through half-remembered interactions with faces that shift like they're underwater. I see what he sees, and his emotions are my own. I'm seeing the world through his eyes, his recollection, his senses. Everything is laid bare like cards on a table. There's sections that're gone, repressed or more likely just forgotten because they were unimportant. But I don't mind pushing past years of his life. I want to be here as little as possible. To tell the detectives what they need to know and go back home to cry at the third crystal clear memory of him hugging Paul the dog.

"How long is this going to take?" I hear one of the detectives ask. His voice is the deep baritone of the taller gentleman I spoke with upon walking in, the one I'd never seen before today. 

"Give her a second," the other one says, Martinez. He's marginally more patient because he's been running homicide longer, but not by much. Every time I'm asked to come and consult in the morgue he offers me a coffee afterwards, giving me a look that says he wants to be there about as much as I do.

"Body's getting cold," the other one, not-Martinez, says under his breath. "She's gonna waste all the evidence."

"You know she can hear you, right?"

It's barely been five minutes and for the third time I have to resist rolling my eyes or break the imprint and start over.

I hit a patch in the imprint, something Elliot wouldn't want me to see. He didn't consciously block it out, but for being his last memories everything is faded like he wanted to forget.

I'm sprinting up the stairs leading to the office. That barricade at the door won't hold them long, and I need to get--

BAM!

The door flies open behind me but I'm too afraid to turn around. I need to get to the study, it's only a few steps more.

"Oh Elliot," a female voice mocks behind me. "Where ya goin, Ellie?"

Quickly, I need to act quickly. Barricading the door could work, so I start at that, slamming the door to the study shut, my eyes landing on the biggest, nearest object and dragging it over.

"He uh, he was in this room," I say, trying to breathe only through my mouth so I don't inhale Elliot's stench. The burning basil and essential oils only do so much. 

"Yes, we know that," the new detective says, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"He's breathing pretty heavy." I frown, concentrating. Everything becomes blurry, he's blinking a lot, and the whole world shakes. 

"I think he's crying," I say as the vision whips wildly back and forth--Elliot is looking for something. My heart flutters in my chest. "He's-- he's really scared." 

Elliot's emotions and thoughts slam into me like a train. If he had been more careful, kept his head down, they wouldn't have found him. He wouldn't be running from one of Donahue's pawns in his own damn home. He couldn't escape, there was no point in trying to run. Maybe if he let out Paul it could distract them enough that--no, what the fuck was wrong with him? Paul did nothing wrong, it was him. All of this was his fault. 

I nearly fall backwards as something grabs me by the collar and hauls me backwards. Elliot screams, desperately grasping for the hands on his back, before the vision rolls, blurring as he skids across the floor. 

"No, please," he breathes out, bringing his arms up as the assailant brings a fist up and knocks it across his face. I can make out the barest of features. This is what the detectives want.

"A half-orc woman. Green skin, dark brown hair."

She punches him again, the sickening crunch of his nose rattling my skull.

"Shouldn't'a left us, Ellie!" Another jab to the face. The image is still blurred, by tears and blood, but he manages to spit a tooth in her face. Good on you, Elliot.

I can only watch as Elliot tries to crawl away and is dragged back by the ankle and tossed into his desk like a dishrag. The vision goes black on impact, immediately followed by the crack of splintering wood. I wince in sympathy. That toss definitely broke some ribs. 

Elliot opens his eyes, blurry and blinking against the pain. It's like a slideshow of images, in each photo that half-orc woman moves closer. She kneels in front of Elliot, a hand reaching out to yank him by the hair and drag him across the floor. I hear her voice,  muffled like he has earmuffs on, and I hear her cackle. Elliot begs for his life, barely intelligible strings of words born of fear and desperation.

"No please, I'll double," "Make your dreams true," "Please, please, please don't hurt my dog."

Does he remember any magic from school? A basic defense spell, a ward against evil, anything? He raises his hand to cast a defensive spell, and his hand is slammed down against the ground for his effort. 

"You thought you could hide?" The boot on his hand grinds it into the ground. "You thought you could escape?"

I feel Elliot's panic rising, acid in the back of my throat. I want to scream, but the boot on my throat cuts off my air. 

"No--" He chokes out, begging over and over. 

They quickly draw a sigil with their index finger, a sigil I've never seen before. My stomach drops and I feel like I'm falling, the sheer depth of what's about to happen hitting me all at once. I'm going to die. She's going to kill me. I open my mouth to scream, but the woman sends the glyph with the flick of a finger and everything goes black. 

I come back to the world with a harsh inhale, grasping at my throat for the--no, that isn't me.

My head is spinning with memories I never experienced, sensations I've never felt. Coming out of soul imprints are always rough, but I've never had whiplash like this. It's hard to separate the vision from reality as the brain tries to consolidate the two. 

I squeeze my eyes shut against the headache forming under my temples, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

"Where's Paul?" 

The detectives look at each other, then to me. Martinez speaks up, "The dog has been taken to the pound."

The pound?! He'll never survive in--

No, wait. That's Elliot, still in my head. 

Okay, deep breath. In, then out. One more. Okay. The moment of silence stretches as I center myself again. I can feel both detectives staring at me, judging me. 

When I open my eyes, I'm blinded by the light streaming in through the far window. The early morning sun cuts the room into even thirds, and floods me in a sea of gold.  As my eyes adjust gradually to the light, I can make out the desk, nearly split in half. 

I relay Elliot's final moments to them, the more I talk the grimmer their faces become. Martinez takes notes as I speak, his heavy brow folding further and further inward as I go. 

Of the few cases I've consulted on, none have been a murder case. Memories are fickle things, easily manipulated or just flat out erased. It's why this ritual isn't taken seriously anymore, why it's not admissible in court. The brain is suggestible, temperamental. This assailant could wind up having the face of a dead relative, or transform into Paul the dog, it depends on the victim. But the face I see is the same one I saw in the back of the police car on the way here. The last moments of a soul can vary in presentation, depending on the manner of death, the memory of the passed, and a whole bunch of other things I don't have control over. 

As Martinez flips his notebook shut, the two of them share a look and then walk out of the room to talk, leaving me alone.

I stand, averting my gaze from the corpse of my friend, trying to look anywhere else. Elliot knew her, knew this woman, but he never mentioned any half-orc. Was she a vengeful ex, or maybe an old friend? The imprint didn't tell me much, but Elliot wasn't confused by her presence, he knew her from somewhere--but where?

A glint of light catches my eye, right under the desk. Like a bit of exposed metal or a screw. The curious part of my soul wants to pick it up, to have something of Elliot's that I can cherish. The coat is going in the donation pile-- knowing I never returned it will be a boon on my soul.

It's almost completely jammed inside the wood, my nails just long enough to pry it out without breaking any. Upon inspection, the piece isn't a piece at all--it's a button, about the size of a dollar coin. On the face is a sigil, but one that looks corrupted. It's similar to the symbols on Elliot's body, chaotic, with no flow to it. I've never seen it before. There's a splash of blood on one face, dark red and dried. Could it be important? It's small enough to miss on an initial sweep of the premise, and logic dictates that I should give it to the police. 

I go to the door, hoping to provide some useful information, when the voices of the two men make me stop.

"Did we really need her here? We have our murderer."

"I don't like it either, but the boss asked for her specifically. When that magic shit actually works it helps a lot, apparently."

"Well it didn't help today. She looked around and told us what we already knew."

"At least we don't have to pay her," the new one says, and Martinez scoffs a laugh. 

I scoff under my breath. They think I'm useless? Well, I'm going to find out what this button means--without their help. It slips easily to the bottom of my pocket when the two walk back in and I'm pretending to examine the cracked desk.

"Please don't touch anything," not-Martinez drones. "This is an active crime scene."

I put on my cheeriest face, the one I use when grouchy customers try to call me a hack when my luck charm didn't win them the lottery. "Of course not, detectives. Did you need anything else?"

Martinez offers me a sympathetic expression. "Do you have anything else to tell us?"

For a split moment, I fear my thievery has been discovered. My hand falls to my dress pocket where the button is stored, but neither of the detectives are looking at me accusingly. They're just bored. They're not after me, they want me gone.

"I wish I had more to tell," I confess, gesturing down to Elliot, but still resolutely not looking at him. "He knew the murderer--"

"Alleged," the new one  mutters.

"And I don't recognize any of these sigils." I sweep my arm over the circle on his body and the floor. Bright orange, arranged in a circle, the center right where Elliot's head should be.

"Well, thanks for the help," he mutters sarcastically.

"This is a pretty open and shut case," Martinez says, looking down at Elliot. "We have the perp in custody. Think you could magic up a better confession?"

The two of them share a chuckle, and I try not to seem too indignant as I force a smile. I know Martinez isn't being cruel on purpose, he's just a callous guy. I'm glad I don't work with him.

I step out of the room and I feel like I can breathe. There's another room to the right of me, filled with officers. That's Elliot's bedroom. I can walk in there as easy as breathing, I know there's a sliding glass door that leads to a balcony that overlooks the yoga studio across the street. The wheel on the door squeaks when it opens. 

Elliot's shop is next to mine, but his home is a few blocks away, about a ten minute walk in the opposite direction. I wonder if the shop is closed, or if his brother Brenan is running it today.

"Lucy!" Alma's voice rings out from the bottom of the stairs. She pushes through her subordinates, flitting over to me on her translucent pink wings. At first she seems excited to see me, but her face falls as she gets closer. "You look like hell."

I rub my arm. I just want to go. "Been a long day."

She reads something in my face, her brows pinching in concern. "Did you know him?"

I can't lie my way out of a paper bag, so I nod.

Alma grimaces. "Shit, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have asked if--"

"It's fine," I say in a rush. "Honestly if I had heard it from somewhere else I would've broken."

She rubs her hands up and down my arms. "If you're sure…"

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Yeah, yeah."

"Were Martinez and Becker nice?"

I shrug and offer her a smile. "They were just doing their jobs."

She looks past me, and glares. She's a full head shorter than me, nearly my opposite in appearance. Short blonde hair, pale white skin, petite frame and an angular face. We've been friends since grade school, and she always has my back. "I'll talk to them later."

I cringe. "You really don't have to." I'd hate for her to yell at them over me, they were just doing their jobs.

She turns those hard brown eyes to me. "I asked you here for a reason. If they don't respect that, they need an attitude adjustment."

I pull her into my chest in a hug. "Thanks, Alma."

Her tiny hands pat my back reassuringly. "Go home and get some rest. You need a ride?"

"I'll walk." I pull back and Alma eyes me skeptically. "I need the fresh air, promise."

She squeezes my arm. "Call if you need anything, and I'll stop by on Friday."

After another hug, I start down the stairs and out the front door. I don't get very far before I'm stopped by Carlos, another relatively new officer who doesn't look up from his laptop to hand me a business card.

"If you think of anything, give us a call," he drones, and I slip the card, which presumably has his number on it, in my pocket. It's going straight in the garbage.

After another lengthy questioning session, some papers to sign stating my silence on the subject, and more condescending glances I really don't need, I'm finally allowed to step out of Elliot's home and into the street.

A crowd has gathered, just past the barricade setup by the department. Police lights and their bright yellow border spells are like magnets to the general populace. There's a group of reporters with their cameras and flash bulbs, surrounding several officers already trying to get as much information as possible out of them. 

I slink by unnoticed, and for that I'm glad. I push through the sparse crowd on the sidewalk and into the freedom of the street. It's a clear day, blue skies, the wind in my hair would be nice on the bike--

No, I don't have a bike.

The street is full of cars, the sidewalk full of pedestrians. Human, fae, fiend, and everything in between crowd around me, commuting to work, or going home, or even just out for a stroll. All of them blithely unaware that just around the corner, on the second floor of the suite, lies a dead man. And the world just keeps turning. It doesn't feel fair.

Categorizing what I need to do in my head is a decent enough distraction. Mrs. Kinoko ordered a long-lasting protective charm for her daughter that's moving at the end of the month, and I can work on that in my lunch. The Dredsy twins need their weekly cleansing water which I have waiting for them in the back room. A gentleman named Leon asked for a bundle of lavender charms for his home to ward of thieves.

I round the corner and nearly stop walking. There's a line outside my shop that reaches the next shop over. I walk past the black marble and darkened windows of Mr. Engstrom's clock repair, also taking the chance to catch a glimpse inside. Nothing, as usual. 

I walk to the front door and dissolve the seal keeping the door locked. “Good afternoon everyone, thank you for waiting!”

“You in trouble, hun?” Ms. Garrett asks with a smile. “The cops finally caught ya?”

“You know it,” I reply with a wink, and a few people chuckle.

There's a lot to do, a lot of orders to fill, and I'm jittery. This morning threw me off, toppled my plans. I have charms to make and talismans to saturate. The wards around the shop to notify me of theft are starting to dim so I need to reset those, and the sprigs of lavender growing in my windowsill are starting to sag, so I probably need to water them with extra love. There's just so much to do my head is spinning as everyone outside rushes into my shop.

"Do you have any more of this cream?"

"How about my Polly--you know her, right?--any charms to make her schooling go well?"

"Did you see all the police down the street?"

"Oh yes, I've seen them! Nasty business, that."

Conversation and the buzz of a busy afternoon flows over me like water, I'm so overstimulated that nothing has any meaning anymore. The talk of Elliot feels like a thorn in my side, something I need to square away for later. That's an issue for after the shop has closed, after everyone has gone home and I go upstairs to mourn in silence.

"Here Mrs. Briggs, give three doses to your husband and his arthritis should start to feel better."

"No--! Please don't touch that! It's decoration only!"

"Yes, I'm so sorry about that, let me offer you a refund."

I don't get a chance to think about much of anything. It's all turned into noise, a pleasant fuzz that surrounds my head like a raincloud. By the time the day is over, I'm collapsing into a hot bath and nearly falling asleep in it.

Only when I fold my dress over a chair does that button fall out of my pocket. I pick it up off the floor, examining it in the low light of the room. Taking it to the sink, I scrub the dried blood off, watching it swirl down the sink in a red-brown haze.

The button glows, a soft silver light projecting onto my hand. The corrupted glyph on both faces is apparent, and when I angle it away from my face, I see the glyph almost takes on the image of a face. It's got an angry expression, with horns jutting out from the head and cheeks.

The button catches the light again, reflecting the yellow glow of the room, and reflects onto my hand. Suddenly, the button glows red-hot, the sigil burning into my palm like a brand. I drop the button with a yelp, the smell of burnt skin invading my nose. Rushing to turn on the sink I run my hand under cold water to assuage the pain, and it helps a little, but when I pat my hand dry, in the center of my palm sits that corrupted sigil.

From my bathroom, I grab a salve, rubbing it over the burn mark and leaving the button on the counter. Sigils don't…do that. At least, no sigil I've come across has ever burnt me. Eyeing it from the bathroom like the button will grow legs and charge at me, I step into my room and shut the door. Today has been chaos, absolute chaos, and I don't have time for demonic buttons. I can worry about it tomorrow.

Hand throbbing, I fall into a fitful sleep, hoping tomorrow brings less heartbreak.

Chapter 2 >>

[lustrumlane]

Circle VII | Kit

Life takes you to funny places, doesn’t it? One minute, you’re in the too-small, too-expensive London apartment with a pillow over your head (because, no matter how many times you’ve asked, the neighbors will not turn their music down), and the next, you’re watching someone who’s not-an-elf get her head cut off.

The fact that everyone seems calm- disgustingly reasonable- even in their grief sets Kit more tonally apart than he already might have been. How is no one fighting back? A room full of detectives, and how is he the one who can’t see justice here? When the guillotine falls, Kit is screaming- what else is he supposed to do? There is no system of rules that he can conjure up to account for such a brutal end, no jury in the world that he believes would have so quickly reached this verdict. What kind of place is this, to have no allowance for conditional evidence, for emotional reasoning, for not cutting someone’s God damned head off for being alone and out of place and frightened?!

He does not fall quiet after he screams (after the end, the end, the end). Instead, he is almost certainly the loudest of the group, wet sobs wracking his body. His hands, pale and shaky, harness him to the podium only out of a bizarre guilt to see this thing through. It brings him no satisfaction to see how the show ends. He doesn’t understand. What round table, what club?

This is not a god damn fairytale. This is real life- his life- and he has never watched someone die.

(And it’s too late to tell her that he would have understood. It’s too late to reach out. He could have been there, could have told her she wasn’t alone in this place-)

The young man stays there longer than some of the others before he exits. If he leaves, the script is set in stone. The episode ends, the story closes. It becomes unchangeable. In his mind, the man can already picture the reviews pouring in for this particular case, the comments that would be left under the IMDb page. Kit Carlisle has managed to pull off another great escape, another brush with death. The fandom would have a field day with it. Not that they expect anything else, of course. Kit Carlisle can never get closer than near to anything; to commit either way is to alienate both sides. Think about what that would do to the ratings, Evan.

The guillotine glints in his eye. It comes down over, and over, and over again. Al had the excuse of a job, of an identity created for the work she was kidnapped out of. What justification will he- can he- even offer, should his head end up next on the chopping block?

[storiesforallfandoms]

small world ~ corpse husband

word count: 2053

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Corpse x fem reader where reader an corpse are both streamers and they meet each other for the first time and realize they used to know each other as kids? I know Corpse has said that he didn’t have many friends when he was younger so maybe have it where reader was someone that was really nice to him? Sorry for the long request and thank you if you do it! 😊🖤”

description: he never would’ve thought that the new addition to their friend group would be someone from his past

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Hey Corpse,” Karl said. Corpse hummed in response, focused on the drawing he was doing for their Jackbox game. “(Y/N) is also from San Diego. Do you know her?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Karl, San Diego is pretty big. We’re not bound to know one another. Besides, just because he lives here doesn’t mean he grew up here.”

“I did grow up in San Diego actually,” Corpse said. “I don’t think we would’ve known each other though. Even if we happened to be in the same area, I didn’t talk to many people and I dropped out in the seventh grade.”

“I was, regrettably, popular in school,” (Y/N) added.

“Regrettably?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Looking back, I hated being popular. I hated it when I was popular even. My friends were mega jerks and made fun of everyone, even me sometimes. I would try and make them be nice but they just let the popularity go to their heads. I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated. There was this sort of outcast in middle school I used to have a crush on. I tried to be friends with him, but he preferred to keep to himself. I always wished I had been friends with him because I feel like I would’ve been so much happier. I never saw him again either. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

Something about her story triggered a memory in Corpse. The year before he dropped out, there was a girl in is class who was always nice to him and tried to talk to him. He brushed it off as another way he was being made fun of. When it kept up, though, he realized she was likely being genuine. He still kept his distance, but he found himself gaining some feelings for her as well. When he dropped out, he never heard from her again.

I wonder where she is now, Corpse thought to himself. Man, what was her name?

Corpse accidentally gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the Discord call.

“You good Corpse?” George asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Corpse responded. “Just uh...just realized I fucked up my idea a bit. No big deal, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The game started prompting for everyone to show what they had created. Taking the opportunity of not having to speak, Corpse went to Google (Y/N)’s YouTube channel. She had come into the game as a friend of Karl’s and Corpse hadn’t heard of her channel, but now somethings were starting to click together.

The first thing that popped up with the top Google Image for (Y/N)’s channel name. It was a beautiful girl laying in a garden of flowers with a wide smile on her face. Corpse sucked in a breath as he realized that the girl in the picture looked familiar.

“Corpse,” came Karl’s voice, snapping Corpse out of his trance. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry,” Corpse said. “I was distracted.”

The rest of the stream Corpse felt like he was in a daze. He continued to play the games and forced out laughs when he realized someone was making a joke. Every time (Y/N) spoke, he felt his heart flutter with excitement. He couldn’t believe that after all these years he had finally been reunited with her. And what was better was that she had actually admitted to having feelings for him too!

Don’t get too excited, he thought to himself. She said she used to have a crush on you. That was a very long time ago.

He tried not to seem too eager when the stream finally ended. He waited for someone else to leave the call first before he exited out of it himself. He waited another few minutes before messaging (Y/N) directly on Discord.

hey. it was fun playing with you tonight. weird request, but can we voice call maybe? just the two of us?

Corpse didn’t expect her to respond any time soon. It was late in San Diego, like nearly 3am late. Most people were going to bed by now. She had mentioned once during the stream that she was starting to get sleepy. He figured she’d see it in the morning and either call, or just ignore the message.

To his surprise, near seconds later, she was calling him.

“Hey stranger,” she said when he answered. “Long time, no speak. You must’ve missed my voice a lot, huh?”

Corpse chuckled. “Exactly, I really did.”

“Makes sense. I do have the best voice on the internet.” She laughed this time. It sounded like such a perfect sound. “For real though, is everything alright? Why did you want to call?”

How did he even tell her? Hey, so you know that outcast you liked? It was me! Surprise!

No, he couldn’t say that. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. He had to figure out some way to bring it up.

“I kind of wanted to talk more about your popular school days,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “It’s not every day I meet a streamer who’s in my own area code. It would be nice to get to know someone who isn’t like a five hour drive away.”

“Oh!” She seemed excited by this response. Her excitement was almost contagious. “Okay, where should I start? The shitty friends or the shallow popularity?”

Corpse chuckled. “You pick.”

She talked for nearly an hour about her high school experiences with her popular friend group. Despite how much she despised being popular, (Y/N) still spoke with a light tone in her voice. She tried to bypass a lot of the more negative details and speak only of the good experiences she went though, which was nice to hear.

Corpse nearly jumped with excitement when she began to talk about middle school unprompted.

“It really was the last good years I had in school,” she admitted. “All my friends, the ones who went on to be super popular with me, they were nice then. Annoying, but all middle schoolers are. We didn’t care about popularity or social rankings. We were just...we were just kids. We didn’t even really know the difference between ‘losers’ and ‘popular’, which was why it was so easy for me to talk to that guy that I liked at the time. My friends weren’t mocking me for having feelings for an outcast.”

“You said you never saw that guy again,” Corpse said. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She sighed heavily. “No, I don’t. He just stopped showing up before we hit high school. I thought he moved, but I knew his mom and I saw her around everywhere. I don’t even remember his name anymore to look him up. Wherever he is, though, I hope he’s doing better. Even if they weren’t sucked completely into their popularity at the time, my friends and the other kids were still awful to him.”

“I feel that,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly the most liked kid in school. Before I dropped out I didn’t even have any friends.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not really a friendly person I don’t think. I’ve worked on it since that time, but the thought of trying to maintain a social relationship still gives me anxiety from time to time. There was one girl who tried to be friends with me the year before I dropped out though. She was nice.”

“What happened to her?”

Corpse smiled to himself. She would figure it out soon, he knew she would.

“I just didn’t hear from her after I dropped out,” he responded. “I guess that’s mainly my fault. I never reached out to her or anything, but I barley knew her name. Just her first time, and she never gave me a number or anything. I couldn’t look her up online. Maybe we just weren’t destined to be together.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you two were just right people, wrong time. Maybe you’ll cross paths again and finally have that opportunity to be friends with her again.”

“Maybe you’ll cross paths with that guy from your middle school, too.”

There was a prolonged silence. Corpse wondered if (Y/N) was starting to put the pieces together. He could barley even hear her breathe. The longer she went, the more worried he was becoming. He was about to say something when she finally spoke again.

“I made him a Valentine,” she said, her voice soft. “Special handmade one. He was the only one I gave it to. It had some really badly written, sappy poem in it. I watched him open it and...I really think he got emotional while reading it. Of course, he’d never tell anyone that.”

Corpse had gotten emotional over the Valentine (Y/N) had given him. It was the first real Valentine he had ever gotten. It wasn’t one of the generic ones that everyone gave out to every classmate so no one felt excluded. It was made from the heart, and that fact alone touched his. Like (Y/N) said, though, he didn’t let anyone know how emotional he had gotten. It would’ve just been more mental ammo for them to use to bully him.

He quickly got up from his chair, racing to his room where he had his box of memories shoved in his closet. It was little things from throughout his life that he kept in a shoebox. Whenever he felt particularly down or depressed, he would open the shoebox and look at all the things that made him smile.

At the very top of the box was (Y/N)’s Valentine.

He went back to his computer and took a picture of the Valentine using his phone.

“That sounds really nice,” he said as he went into the Discord app on his voice. “It must’ve meant a lot to him that you put so much time and effort into a handmade gift.”

“I don’t know if it did. I never got to ask him what his reaction was.”

“Oh, I’d bet anything he was happy.”

He sent the picture through Discord and waited for (Y/N) to open it. The silence between them felt deafening. The seconds felt like they had slowed to hours. He wondered what (Y/N)’s reaction would be. Maybe she’d be weirded out by the fact that Corpse kept the Valentine, or by the fact that Corpse was the middle school crush in general.

What if she’s upset that this is who I am now? he asked himself. What if her crush was just a middle school thing, and the moment you dropped out she moved on?

“I knew it.”

Corpse couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard the slight excitement in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I knew it was you!” she continued. “Well, I didn’t know know, but when you asked me to call you I had a bit of a suspicion. I can’t believe it...it’s actually you!”

“It is me,” he confirmed. “And it’s you.”

“Small world we live in, huh?”

“Yeah, small world.” Do you still like me? Did you ever stop? Do you know that your kindness stuck with me for so long?

The silence returned. Corpse was starting to get sick of it, but he didn’t know how to fill the void between them. When he heard her yawn, he realized how late it had gotten. “I’ll let you go, you sound tired.”

“We just had this breakthrough and you’re asking me to sleep?!”

Corpse chuckled. “You have to sleep eventually, (Y/N). It’s like 3:30am, normal people sleep at this hour.”

“I am offended you would think I’m anywhere near normal.” She yawned again, cutting off her short lived rant. “But you’re right, I am tired. Listen...promise me you’ll answer when I call tomorrow. I...I’d really like to catch up. Maybe...to pick up where we left off.”

“Okay,” Corpse said, then realized that wasn’t really a response. “I promise. I’ll be waiting by the phone the moment I open my peepers.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I’ll be sure to call you the moment I open mine.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Corpse underscore Husband.”

kind of a bad ending, but i wasn’t really sure where else to go with it as i wrote it. sorry! :(

[justjams2003]

Blossoms-Chapter 8

Leather and candle wax fill every one of my senses. I can feel the leather of my Prince's hands on my waist. My corset is lightweight for the summer weather. Though, it doesn't help the heat pooling in my insides. The closeness of his chest on my back causing every nerve in my body to light up in flames. My breath hitches every now and then. When the horse goes over a bump too fast or we stop too quickly.

 Each time our bodies cause friction, fabrics and skin rubbing perfectly. I can't help but want more than just light touches. At the moment I have to attack my lips just to keep myself from letting out a moan. 

We have been riding for a while. He took me through some back exit I have never seen before. Then onto the biggest most beautiful sleek black horse. We've been following back roads and we're currently riding through the most beautiful forest. I've heard the most charming sounding birds and the most elegant tree.

These trees are so big too. They are growing the thickest roots, covering the entire forest floor. Moss growing over those roots. Flowers and mushrooms litter it everywhere. Causing the most enchanting feeling. As if I am travelling through a fantasy realm, towards my castle that awaits me. I am so writing this into my book.

"We are getting close now, my dear." He curls my hair behind my ear and then whispers to me. I can't believe I rode off with I man I barely know. Yet, it doesn't feel like that. It feels as though our souls are entirely connected from the beginning. Though, I wouldn't mind getting to know each and every little detail of him.

Yet, before I could respond I see the most breathtaking sight. A field of wildflowers, an utter mixture of daisies, tulips, lavender and many other of the wildest colours. My eyes grow wide at the sight. There is a slight incline making it perfect for sledging in the deep Winter. Though, I don't want to even think about that.

Then again I feel strong hands around my waist. It's a strong grip around my body. My coat immediately gets discarded. I just want to feel the sun on my skin. Therefore the moment I'm settled I start running toward the field. My body explodes with joy. Jumping, spinning and dancing in every possible direction.

Even when I give in and fall down, all the grass and flowers catching me causes me to last ever so softly. The flower petals fly up all around me. My hair swooping around me in every direction. The emotions escape me and a laugh falls out of my mouth. My mind races and finally settles, "I made it."

"Made what?" I look up and see a stark white mask. Does he fit in this ideal fantasy I have created for myself? I've always wanted a big family, especially after growing up as an only child. Can I imagine myself doing that with him? I'm moving too fast. I am sure of it. Yet, if my mind thinks of giving myself over to him, I should always be ready for children.

Without even asking for a reply he places the black blanket down. Then places down the basket and takes out several foods. "I grew up in London," I start out, sitting down next to him. "Everyone was so glum there, except my aunt. She travels a lot and would tell me all the stories of her adventures. And the moment she told me about France and the Opera Populaire, I just knew."

I pop a grape into my mouth and look out at the view. It's impeccable. I can see almost every part of the busy city. Especially the famous Opera house. He throws me a cheeky smile, "You are so beautiful." I hear his deep voice compliment. My cheeks light up, "Thank you," I smile at him. "You are every piece of sunshine in one person." The compliment just flows from him.

I can't stop smiling and try my best to hide by playing with the grass under me. "There's a lot of sunshine in the world," I comment, not being able to keep my eyes off him. He merely rolls his eyes and looks at the amazing view of Paris. As I look at him, every bone highlighted by the sun, I can't help but realise once more just how truly attractive he is.

Though I can't help but wonder why he covers up his beauty? I would never force him to show me his full face. He clearly doesn't want the world to see. That would be like stripping someone naked in front of an entire audience.

Even if I am the only one in the room. I don't want to question him either. It's probably a sensitive subject, I can't imagine he wants to talk about it. Yet, my mind can't help but wonder. To creative fantasies of all the allurement that hides underneath that polished mask of his. It only creates more attraction for him. That there might forever be a part of him that not a single person in this world knows about.

"Tell me about yourself, my Prince," I ask, placing my head on my arms and knees. He laughs and shakes his head. "I am no Prince, my dear." He says with such matter-a-fact that it causes pain in my heart. "Then who are you?" I ask, furrowing my brows with a bit more of a directed tone.

He thinks for a moment, "I am Erik, Phantom of the Opera." he places his hand on his heart as if he is giving a piece of it to me. "I think you are much more than a ghost, my dear Erik." The words fall from my mouth. It's true, I can tell there is so much more to him than some unseen mystical being.

"Quite funny, I thought you were Prince Philip. I suppose you're my Prince Erik. I am glad you're the one with a voice. You sing much better than I ever have." I explain to him, in between eating from the array of foods. His cheeks blush ever so lightly, if we were in the dark corners of the Opera House I would not have noticed it.

He plucks are a wildflower, then tucks it behind my ear in my hair. "Who are you then? If not Princess Aurora?" His hand lingers a second on my cheek. Just long enough to cause tingles in my body. A proud smile comes over me, "I'm not exactly Princess Aurora, but my name is Mariposa Aurora Claremont." He thinks for a moment then a cheeky smile comes over his face. "Why my dear, it fits you so perfectly. Mariposa, free as a butterfly. Aurora, as sweet as an angel. Claremont, as refreshing as a clementine." His words are as if he is quoting a famous poem to me. A poem entirely dedicated to me.

"Do you prefer one?" He questions, referring to my various names. I shake my head no. "I shall call you my Clementine." He settles, making each name his own. I nod, "I would like that very much." I smile at him, enjoying every moment with him. We've barely said anything deep to each other yet it still feels like I know all his inners.

I swallow my bite, "You're not a very good ghost, you know." He looks beyond offended. I can't help but laugh at his reaction. "Why do you say so?" He questions, his accent is ever so slightly vibrating through him. I giggle once again, "You claim to watch my every move yet do not know my name." I explain to him.

He freezes up, then I can see his charm gets turned on again. "My sweet Clementine, I was so distracted by your talent." My cheeks immediately flare up and I can't help but cover up my face with my cold hands. Though, Erik gently takes my hand and pulls it away. "I enjoy seeing you smile." He states, his mixed dirty emerald eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

I throw a look at him, and he sighs looking down. "I know I am not one to talk, but it is better this way." His entire body stiffens up yet also emanates pain. I can't help but feel bad, "Thank you, for not trying to remove my mask." His eyes hold years of agony behind them.

I furrow my brows, "Of course, I would never do that." I shake my head in utter disbelief that anyone would even think of doing that. "I'm sorry that people have done that to you." I hold his hand, which has retracted after his comment. His eyes seem to light up at my words but also sorrow from remembrance.

Without even thinking I give each knuckle a gentle kiss. "Thank you for all this," I say looking over at now the empty plates. "It's been the most perfect evening," I smile, taking in each blade of grass. "you have truly spoiled me." His smile swells with pride at my words. This time he takes my hand and gives it a kiss. "Anything for my Princess." His heavy voice echoes out in my mind. Every nerve lights a blaze in my body. Just aching for those lips to be on mine. 

[corpsedaydream]

Hi! I dont know if you write this, but can i request for angsty-fluff imagine for corpse? Maybe when you’re jealous? Thank u❤️ love ur writings

u ask for jealousy and angst, and i said hell fucking yeah

hope u enjoy! 

word count: 1.6k

_________________________

it’s fine

Corpse was ever so charismatic. It was something about him that was impossible to deny. Even when he would get misjudged by people, thinking he may be this intimidating presence purely because of how he dressed and sounded, it would only take a few exchanges of sentences between him and a stranger for them to instantly change their mind and feel drawn to him, instead. You knew this better than anyone, after all, it had been one of the factors in what had made you fall for him so hard and so fast.

The only issue was that, sometimes, he could have the same effect on others and, sometimes, when you caught someone else clearly having some heart eyes for your man, that brought forth the little green monster inside of you. He was magnetic, and as happy as you were that the world was so intrigued by him and he was having all the success he deserved, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wished that magnetic pull only worked on you.

It seemed there were certain days when Corpse managed to turn on this charismatic side of him even more so. Today had happened to be one of those days. It was good, because it was a day the two of you had planned to spend together. But when you went out to lunch and the server definitely let her hand rest on his arm a little too long and said things a little too flirtatious and hardly acknowledged your presence, you started to lose that good feeling.

You didn’t say anything about it, even though you kind of wished he would have figured that him giving the girl a back and forth was encouraging her more and upsetting you further. But you were determined to have a good day with your boyfriend, you didn’t want to start any drama with him.

He asked you if you were okay on the way back to his place, noticing you were being quiet. You told him you were and left it at that, even if you did want to say more.

Finally, in the safety of his home that was like a bubble in which was just for the two of you, you were feeling better. Quality time was your love language and his was physical touch, something you could both give each other with ease when there was no outside interruption. Between the little talks, the exploration of hands over each other, the giggles that turned into wiping tears of laughter from your face and shared kisses, you swore you could spend the rest of your life like this and be happy.

And then the bubble burst.

“Ah, shit, (Y/N).” He began, and the mood between you instantly changed.

“What?”

“They need a tenth player right now and no one else can get online.” He had promised that today was about you. And usually, you would be completely okay with him going and joining in on the streams, often you loved sitting by him and watching him get so invested in the games. Except lately, you’d been feeling at an arms length from him and you hated it. You wanted his undivided attention today.

“And?” You were being short with him, you wanted him to know you weren’t okay with this right now.

“It’ll just be a few games...”

You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, looking away from him. You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to tell him what to do, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, that you didn’t want him to play and wanted him to stay right here in this moment with you.

“You can come sit with me?” He spoke again as you remained silent, seemed as if he wasn’t figuring it out.

“Just go play. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

-

Sitting on your own now, you felt bare without your limbs being all tangled with his beneath the blanket like they were earlier. You had tried to turn on the television to watch something, but everything on just seemed to annoy you.

With a sigh, you pressed your hands to your knees and stood up, walking towards Corpses gaming room. At first, you were going to walk in, giving in to the want that was craving to be by his side, but upon hearing a number of female voices, that jealousy appeared inside you again and you walked away.

It was slightly irrational, you knew these people were his friends, but today had really gotten to you.

At an attempt to distract yourself, you opened up Tik Tok, but all your for you page seemed to be was more girls wanting your boyfriend.

“Fucking hell.” You said out loud, closing the app and opening up Twitter next. But you should’ve known it would’ve been worse on there, Corpse seemed to be trending every day on that app, you told yourself you really should have known better for that one.

However, the next social media app click was deliberate. You knew that Corpse had been reposting stories of people using his song and you decided on treating yourself to some more sweet torture. And sure enough, his story was filled with more girls. Firing that jealousy and insecurity you had been feeling today even more.

“Fuck this.” You announced, standing to your feet and feeling tears of frustration build in your eyes.

Once you had finished gathering your belongings, you were just about to make an exit when that crazy thing of timing pulled a fast one on you as Corpse emerged from his gaming room.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you, spotting your hand gripping the handle on his front door.

Seeing him should’ve made you feel better, but it only caused more tears to well up, so you quickly looked away from him.

“I’m going home.”

“What-no, why?” He came closer to you then and you turned more towards the door.

“Because you obviously don’t want me here.”

“What the fuck? (Y/N), of course I do. What are you even saying right now?” He was by your side now, grabbing your hand from the handle and holding it in his. His other went up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to face him and that’s when he saw the glaze of tears in your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Worry sparked up in him. “You’re upset...” He stated the obvious and you shook your head out of his grip, directing your vision to the ground.

You thought he might create some distance between you both when you did that, but instead, he did the opposite. He pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapping snugly around your waist and his other hand resting on the back of your head to encourage you against him.

“Don’t, I’m going.” You spoke, but your words were meek, you didn’t actually want to leave and he knew that.

“No. You’re not.” He argued back, his arms pulling you in even closer. “I want you here.” He told you and that’s what made you snap.

“No you don’t!” Your voice got louder, matching the movements of you bracing your arms against him and pushing him back, breaking the human contact. He was in shock, watching you with cautious eyes. “If you did, you would’ve spent time with me and only me today. You wouldn’t have left me alone!” You became more emotional as you spoke, a few tears managing to spill onto your cheeks.

“Baby-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Don’t ‘baby’ me right now.” You took a moment to wipe under your eyes before continuing because you knew this next admission would cause you some more tears. “You know how hard it is to compete it with every other girl who’s all about you right now? They’re everywhere, and they’re all so fucking beautiful. I know you see them, I’m not them, Corpse.” Your voice broke into a sob as his name left your lips and he felt his heart break to see you in that state.

He wasn’t sure if you still needed space, but he couldn’t stand in front of you while you cried and not do anything. So instead, he once again brought his arms around you, but this time he scooped you up, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips so he could carry you.

You continued to cry against his neck as he walked the both of you to his room and when he placed you down onto his bed, he was instantly beside you, cradling you against him.

“I need you to listen me,” He began once you had started to calm down, he wanted to make sure you paid attention. “You are so important to me. So fucking important to me, (Y/N).” His eyes were boring into yours and he brought his hand up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks before continuing. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.” He was speaking with force, but it wasn’t aggressive, he was wanting to make sure that you really understood the depth to his words.

“It’s just, everyone seems to want you and I’m just-”

“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” Corpse cut you off before you could finish. For a moment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before moving his face back so he could look at you again. “I only want you. You’re it for me, baby.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“With my whole fucking heart.”

“I love you, I really love you.” You told him, your emotions were still running high, but you were feeling a whole lot better.

“I love you, too.”

[omiscurls]

Heyhey! I couldn’t find your rules, so idk if this is allowed or not, and if it isn’t feel free to ignore this, but may I request Childe with a reader who has depression? Thank you

tough

a/n: hi!! sorry for that, the rules are added by now, i chose not to describe depression itself, because it looks different on everyone, and you may not relate to what applies to me, but i'm hoping you'll find this enjoyable instead!!

plot: character helping the reader out of a breakdown, or a bad headspace

contains: tartaglia, kaeya

warnings: bad copying mechanisms, low mental place, nothing too serious mentioned

tartaglia

now, he's a man of action less than words, even though he's good with those, too

and to add to that, he's also a very perceptive person - if some negative vibe lingers on you for too long, he'll notice right away

however, relying on his experience, he opts to give you space to figure it out on your own, first, he wouldn't like to be making a huge deal of something that was just a worse couple of days

it's when you don't show up at your usual dinner spot, that he gets a little tingle in his brain, telling him to not dismiss it this time.

and so, he makes his way over to your place.

"ya there?" you hear on the other side of the door, followed by urgent knocking, sort of breaking you out of a trance, but you can't find it in you to go and answer it. he'll go away, you think, even better. your apartment is messy, you're messy, too, and it's not the right time to be receiving visitors. so you stay quiet.

"you do know i know you're in there, right?" he speaks up again "the blinds would be down if you weren't"

come in, you want to shout, and although no voice leaves your throat, soon the door opens anyway.

"hey, what's up, you weren't on the- oh." he stops in his tracks in the middle of the corridor, and you're already mentally prepared to a snarky remark about your sorroundings, but the only thing he says is a lighthearted "why're you sitting on the floor?"

the first thing he thinks about is to level with you, so he plops himself down right beside you, and you bet it looks funny - you in yesterday's clothes, in a big, probably smelly, mess, and then a harbinger in full military outfit right beside you.

"i-" you try to say, but your throat seems too dry and worn out, so you opt for a whisper "look at his place"

he indeed does, hinting the small note of desperation in your voice.

"what about it?"

"it's a mess!" you sigh, covering your face with your hands, out of both embarrassment, and fatigue. you take a big breath before continuing "so i wanted to clean it up, i even brought all the... all the things, but it's so much stuff to do, and i'm tired, and- and i don't know!" you choose to stop as not to snap right then and there. "i can't even do my shitty chores right like an adult" you mumble, massaging your temples.

"and is sitting on the floor helping?" he simply asks, and for a second, you're almost mad at him for not being more... cooey and fuss over you a bit more. he sounds cold.

"what are you-"

"really, is it helping?" he repeats "because from how i see it, every little thing would seem bigger if you looked at it from this angle. come on" he nudges you before standing up, and offering a hand to lift you up. you, however, shake your head.

"i really can't deal with it today, childe, i'm sorry"

"just stand up" he pleas, and the second you take his hand, he helps you up in less than a second. when you're on his level again, he sneaks both his arms on the sides of your waist, and sort of sways around a little, before speaking again. "what if, what if we do it little by little? look, we'll start over there" he puts his hand on top of yours, and lifts your arm to point to the full sink along with his. "and that'd be it for today! and then tomorrow... actually, let's not make plans. we'll just pick something tomorrow, and do it then. does the sink sound like a lot to do?" he asks.

"do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to say no" you mutter, earning the heartiest and brightest laughter you've heard in days from him.

"always honest. but come on, i'll help." he rolls you out of his embrace, causing you to feel a sudden wave of cold, it was comfortable back there, you think.

however, as he works through the dishes with you, the pile does seem to lessen, and doesn't rule over your kitchen anymore. every time he hands you a plate to dry, he smiles as wide as he can, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all when you don't smile back.

"remember" he starts again, after a while of comfortable silence. he looks ridiculous, doing the kitchen duties in an outfit designed mostly to look presentable and slay enemies in it, but the look on his face is dead set. "the first lesson you've gotta learn before going off to battle something, is that the best defense is always, always to fight back. and if you don't think you can manage that, well, that's why nobody ever battles alone. it's common sense to have someone watching your back. and as for you, not only are you a great warrior yourself, but you've also got the best second-in-command willing to help you out. don't forget that."

kaeya

as for him, he's also perceptive and empathic, but the difference between him and tartaglia is that he does believe people have the right to figure some things out on their own, he's a firm believer in the magic of secrets

that's probably because he himself doesn't like to share too much about his deeply personal feelings

so he'd obviously see some wave of difficult emotions coming your way, but would he immediately start worrying? probably not

the guy doesn't have healthy copying mechanisms himself, don't think he expects those of others

every other night the two of you meet up at the tavern, kaeya always ordering wine, you asking the bartender for whatever was in store today, but it's never anything alcoholic.

and just like nearly always, you're seated at angel's share, him noticing you're not particularly in the mood for talking, and choosing to entertain you with as many stories of the day that went by as he can remember.

the waiter interrupts him, asking if your minds are already made up regarding the drink. now, kaeya always has you picking first, but since he sees you're still analyzing the card (as if you expected to find anything new), he goes first with a drink he knows charles makes really strong.

to his surprise, when it comes to you, you just mumble "i'll have the same he had"

before the waiter has a chance of writing that down, kaeya tells him that actually, you're gonna need a minute or two more, and to erase the order you've both put in.

as he walks away, the calvary captain's eyes pierce through yours.

"that's a pretty nasty drink you wanted there" he starts, feeling he can't let you handle your mess this time, preparing to dig a little deeper into what's on your mind.

you shrug your shoulders.

"hey" he speaks up a little firmer, hand moving to cover yours, and even though they twitch as to retreat from his grip, you let it be. "tell me what's up."

"nothing's <up>" you accentuate. "can't i even have a drink now?"

"obviously you can" he nods "as long as i know you're trying it just for the taste, and not for the strong kick it's gonna offer, cause that's a dangerous path that only leads to nasty places." concern shines through his gaze, and an encouraging smile is wandering somewhere in his expression, however his lips are still pressed into a tight line, the same he forms when he's either fighting or arguing.

you stay silent for a good long while, before sighing.

"maybe i want the kick. good, or bad, maybe i want to feel... something."

the sentence sounds all too familiar, as he shakes his head and takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

"what're you-"

"you're obviously not in the right state to be in a bar, of all places" he states almost coldly "so i'm getting you somewhere safer."

the two of you leave the bar, and walk out into the cold of mondstadt's street, covered in the darkness of the night. you walk past him, not leveling up to him, just tagging along to whatever he's going.

it comes as a surprise, that you're neither headed for your apartment, nor his, nor the knights' headquarters. he's guiding you in an unknown direction, until you reach a dead end.

he clims up a small building, offering you a hand and shaking off your confused expressions and questions. "you'll see" he says. the two of you walk from roof to roof, and countless times you tell him it's ridiculous, but then, he jumps onto the city's wall, helping you out with two hands this time, sitting you down right next to him on the stone surface of the wall. it's a little wet from the night's humidity, and cold, and probably dirty too, but the moon shines right at you, and from this perspective, you see thousands of lights in houses, taverns and shops, from the bottom up to the cathedral.

going up from that, a calm and peaceful lake paints the landscape blue on the left, and even from up here, you see a sea of lampgrasses shining through the leaves of wolvendom forest. if you squint, lights are still on in dawn winery, and the path to liyue and all the other lands swirls around near diluc's house. there's so much you can see, even if the night limits your vision.

"i like to come here when i need to gain some perspective over what is happening in my life right now" kaeya speaks really softly and quietly, bordering on a whisper. "it's a beautiful view, even someone as insensitive to art as i am can see that, but other than that... it's huge. and even though it is, it's also alive. every single one of those beings whose lights are dying out as they slowly go to sleep one by one, they're alive. they're not a scenery, they're their own, individual worlds. and they all coexist with each other in such a clever manner, don't you think? they have their differences, they might even hate each other, or wish the worst upon the other's name, but from up here? they fit together like puzzles of one, big picture."

"that's a nice way to put it, for sure" you whisper, looking down onto your knees. his finger pushes your chin slightly to make you face him, and he smiles at you gently, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek.

"you know, we each have our own worlds, built from scratch from such fragile materials. we have our worlds rise, shine, and crumble before our sights. we look over the ruins of them and think, this is the end of the world. there's nothing more, it's all dust now. but from up here, you see how many other worlds there are - everyone has their own. not everything that is happening in your world is true. you see it from first person's perspective, and therefore the view might be disturbed by many different aspects. you might not see the picture, you just see the broken puzzle fragment that can't fit with the rest, and you're ready to throw away the entire picture, without finishing it. but being here, it reminds me... the world doesn't end on the ruins you see. you can always ask someone to help you build them up again, and of course, you can expect it to fall into pieces once more, but this time, you'll keep in mind, there're-" he stopped, pointing to the city's lights. "so many people to help you raise it up to the clouds."

"your metaphor is really complex" you chuckle, but his face stays still.

"it's not the end of the world if your puzzle piece is broken. and the ruins are not unfixable if you feel too tired to build them up all by yourself. if anything, that's a start." his hand travels up to keep the hair from getting on your face, since the wind blows pretty hard on this height. "what do you say we start your puzzle once more, toghether?"

-

your friendly reminder that you can request things [here]

[rockislandadultreads]

Fantastical Recommendations: World Building Books

In a Garden Burning Gold by Rory Power

Rhea and her twin brother, Lexos, have spent an eternity helping their father rule their small, unstable country, using their control over the seasons, tides, and stars to keep the people in line. For a hundred years, they've been each other's only ally, defending each other and their younger siblings against their father's increasingly unpredictable anger. Now, with an independence movement gaining ground and their father's rule weakening, the twins must take matters into their own hands to keep their family—and their entire world—from crashing down around them. But other nations are jockeying for power, ready to cross and double cross, and if Rhea and Lexos aren't careful, they'll end up facing each other across the battlefield.

Last Exit by Max Gladstone

Ten years ago, Zelda led a band of merry adventurers whose knacks let them travel to alternate realities and battle the black rot that threatened to unmake each world. Zelda was the warrior; Ish could locate people anywhere; Ramon always knew what path to take; Sarah could turn catastrophe aside. Keeping them all connected: Sal, Zelda’s lover and the group's heart. Until their final, failed mission, when Sal was lost. When they all fell apart. Ten years on, Ish, Ramon, and Sarah are happy and successful. Zelda is alone, always traveling, destroying rot throughout the US. When it boils through the crack in the Liberty Bell, the rot gives Zelda proof that Sal is alive, trapped somewhere in the alts. Zelda’s getting the band back together—plus Sal’s young cousin June, who has a knack none of them have ever seen before. As relationships rekindle, the friends begin to believe they can find Sal and heal all the worlds. It’s not going to be easy, but they’ve faced worse before. But things have changed, out there in the alts. And in everyone's hearts. Fresh from winning the Hugo and Nebula Awards, Max Gladstone weaves elements of American myth--the muscle car, the open road, the white-hatted cowboy--into a deeply emotional tale where his characters must find their own truths if they are to survive.

Inhibitor Phase by Alastair Reynolds

Miguel de Ruyter is a man with a past. Fleeing the 'wolves' - the xenocidal alien machines known as Inhibitors - he has protected his family and community from attack for forty years, sheltering in the caves of an airless, battered world called Michaelmas. The slightest hint of human activity could draw the wolves to their home, to destroy everything ... utterly. Which is how Miguel finds himself on a one-way mission with his own destructive mandate: to eliminate a passing ship, before it can bring unwanted attention down on them. Only something goes wrong. There's a lone survivor. And she knows far more about Miguel than she's letting on . . . Ranging from the depths of space to the deeps of Pattern Juggler waters, from nervous, isolated communities to the ruins of empire, this is a stealthy space opera from an author at the top of his game.

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel

So begins Kaikeyi’s story. The only daughter of the kingdom of Kekaya, she is raised on tales about the might and benevolence of the gods: how they churned the vast ocean to obtain the nectar of immortality, how they vanquish evil and ensure the land of Bharat prospers, and how they offer powerful boons to the devout and the wise. Yet she watches as her father unceremoniously banishes her mother, listens as her own worth is reduced to how great a marriage alliance she can secure. And when she calls upon the gods for help, they never seem to hear. Desperate for some measure of independence, she turns to the texts she once read with her mother and discovers a magic that is hers alone. With this power, Kaikeyi transforms herself from an overlooked princess into a warrior, diplomat, and most favored queen, determined to carve a better world for herself and the women around her. But as the evil from her childhood stories threatens the cosmic order, the path she has forged clashes with the destiny the gods have chosen for her family. And Kaikeyi must decide if resistance is worth the destruction it will wreak—and what legacy she intends to leave behind.

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Three

chapter two - Chapter Three: Ceasefire - chapter four

Series Masterlist

Plot: Bucky, Sam and Y/n visit Baltimore and unearth a long kept, heartbreaking secret. Bucky and Y/n’s tension comes to a head when they meet with Dr. Raynor.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 2, angst, language, racial undertones, racial profiling, PTSD, mention of torture, mention of suicide, fluffy angst, Walker is an asshole and Y/n is a bad bitch, the start of the slow burn 🔥

A/N: This shit was heavy to write because of the subject matter so hopefully the fluff towards the end makes up for all the angst I’m about to put you through lol. Honestly, it’s so hard to write this series not having the ending of the show yet 😂 Like I’m trying to build this and I know where I need it to go but it all depends on the show. This week’s episode was 👀 and I’m already drafting in my head. Anyways, enjoy!

----

Military craft bathrooms, I had found out, were not an ideal place to apply makeup.

I had woken up in the early morning hours stiff, achy and with a deep purple bruise on my cheek. I’d done my best to conceal it as to not attract attention wherever Bucky was taking us, but I wasn’t a magician.

Sam and I had yet to speak about me going home, but the tense exchange we’d shared before I passed out still hung over us. It wasn’t like we’d never fought, but the reasoning had never been over one of our lives being endangered. I didn’t want to leave him, but it was futile to argue the point.

The neighborhood that we were passing through didn’t look all that different from New Orleans. Bucky still had yet to tell us who we were here to see, only that it was important that Sam met him. I was done asking questions and trailed behind them on the sidewalk, my hands shoved in my jacket pockets and my head hung in defeat. I’d tried to do the superhero thing and failed miserably.

“Hey, it’s Black Falcon! What’s up?” “It’s just Falcon, kid,” Sam replied to the boy sat in front of a chain-linked fence with his friend.

“No, no, my daddy told me it’s Black Falcon,” the kid insisted. 

Sam stopped in front of them, “Is it because I’m black and I’m the Falcon?” “Well, technically, I mean, yes,” he shrugged. “So are you, like, Black Kid?” The kid’s friend burst into laughter and Sam did the same, “I got him, right?”

“Whatever, man…” the kid sat down, I was just about to pass him when he stopped me, “Are you a superhero too?” Sam stopped and looked back at me, his lips pressed in a thin frown. His eyes were sympathetic but I wasn’t in any mood to discuss my unsuccessful attempt to enter his world. I gave a sad smile to the kid, “No, I’m not.” I patted his shoulder and left, Sam chose to walk with me instead of ahead of me.

Bucky was already on the house’s front porch when we climbed the stairs, he banged on the door marked with a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. We waited a few seconds before it opened to reveal a boy, 16 or 17 maybe.

“We’re here to see Isaiah,” Bucky said. “Nobody named Isaiah live here,” the teen replied.

“Look, we just want to talk to him,” Bucky gently pushed.

“You must not hear what I just said, you ain’t getting in this house. Ya’ll can leave now.” Bucky dropped his head and shut his eyes, looking as if what he was about to say pained him. “Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here,” his voice dropped, “He’s gonna know what that means.”

The boy’s eyes bounced between the three of us before backing away from the door, “All right, wait here.” “Nice kid,” Sam commented once he was gone, “How do you know this guy?” “I used to, we had a skirmish during the Korean War,” Bucky explained. The screened door opened once again to reveal the teen, “Today’s your lucky day. He said he wanna see for himself.”

Bucky led the way inside followed by Sam and I. Where the living room met the dining room was where a tall, grey haired black man stood. “Isaiah,” Bucky greeted him as we stepped inside. “Look at you,” Isaiah said, taking cautious steps toward Bucky. “This is, uh, Sam. Sam, this is Isaiah,” Bucky raised his hand toward the man, “He was a hero. One of the ones that HYDRA feared the most, like Steve. We met in ’51.”

“If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah,” Isaiah interrupted to correct Bucky’s inaccurate storytelling. “We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him, never came back. So the U.S. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him,” he spat the last part of the sentence. “I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he’s managed to grow it back. I just wanted to see if he got the arm back or if he’d come to kill me.” I watched over Sam’s shoulder as Bucky shook his head. “I’m not a killer anymore,” his voice hitched slightly.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? It doesn’t work like that,” Isaiah’s voice hardened, “Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” There was a pause as Bucky collected himself before we got to the heart of the matter, “Isaiah, the reason we’re here is because there’s more of you and me out there.” 

“You and me…” Isaiah seethed, his eyes boring into Bucky.

“And we need to know how…” “I’m not gonna talk about it anymore,” Isaiah growled before picking up a metal tin and flinging it across the room. Sam threw an arm out to shield me but the tin lodged itself in the wooden paneling of the walls. With that power at his age, Isaiah was undoubtably a Super Soldier. 

He took deliberate steps toward us till he stood only a foot away from Bucky. “You know what they did to me for being a hero? They put my ass in jail,” Isaiah’s voice broke, the traumatic memories were hitting him as he spoke, “For thirty years. People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren’t done with me.” “Isaiah…” Sam said carefully.

“Get out of my house!” Sam and I startled at the sudden noise, but I didn’t fault Isaiah for his reaction. My heart broke for him in fact. Tears had welled in my eyes as he told us fragments of his life, my hand slipped to my mouth to prevent my sobs from escaping. Bucky turned away first, leading me out as Isaiah’s presumed grandson did the same to Sam. He pushed ahead of us both, every emotion possible playing out on his face.

“Sam…” Bucky began as we descended the front steps of the house.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up?” Sam angrily pointed a finger towards Bucky, who remained quiet as the three of us walked down the middle of the road. “I asked you a question, Bucky.” “I know…” “Steve didn’t know about him?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t, I didn’t tell him,” Bucky answered, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“How could you not tell him?” I exclaimed, my tears still tracing abstract patterns down my cheeks, “If there were anybody to tell, it would have been him!” “So you’re telling me,” Sam stopped walking and pointed back to Isaiah’s house, “That there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?” 

Before Bucky got the chance to answer, the siren on a nearby police car sounded off. Two officers pulled up and exited the vehicle, “Hey.” “What’s up, man?” Sam said.

“Is there a problem here?” one asked, focusing on Sam.

“No, we’re just talking,” he answered, gesturing between the three of us. “We’re fine,” Bucky answered, visibly put out by the interruption.

“Really, we’re fine,” I shakily spoke up, wiping my palms under my wet eyes.

The officers didn’t accept our answers, instead coming closer towards Sam. “Can I see your ID?”

“I don’t have ID, why?”

“Okay, sir,” the officer held up his hands, “Just calm down.” “I am calm,” Sam responded, I could see the anger bubbling below his surface, “What do you want? We’re just standing here talking.” Bucky gestured towards the policemen, “Just give him your ID so we can leave.” The tears I was fighting so hard to control couldn’t be stopped as I watched the scene play out. “No,” Sam protested, “I’m not giving him shit, we’re just talking.” “Officers, there’s nothing going on,” I insisted, sniffling as I tried to speak. “Ma’am,” one of the men approached me, holding his hands out carefully as if to shield me from Sam, “If this man is making you uncomfortable in any way-“ “He’s my brother,” I sidestepped away from the cop, “You’re the only ones making us feel uncomfortable.” “He’s not bothering either of us, do you know who this is?” Bucky gestured towards Sam, I came to stand between both of them and placed a protective hand on Sam’s shoulder. If anything was going down, I was going down with him.

The cop that had briefly stepped away to his car came back and whispered something into his co-worker’s ear. His jaw dropped as he looked Sam over again, this time with a much less aggressive stare. “I am so sorry, Mr Wilson,” the bastard had the audacity to chuckle, “I didn’t recognize you without the goggles. I’m really, really sorry about this.” A second police car came down the street and stopped in front of us. The officers told us to wait as they hurried to try and clean up their mistake. It didn’t matter, the damage had already been done. Neighbors and people passing by were stood outside houses and on the sidewalk watching the scene unfold. And there stood Sam, the leading role of a story these men had written and forced him into. I’d never felt more helpless in that moment when I realized that had he not been recognized, there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done to save him.

“I didn’t…I didn’t tell anybody because he had already been through enough,” Bucky said quietly, reeling us back to our original point of conversation.

“Mr. Barnes,” the officer who had tried to cage me from Sam approached Bucky, “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.” “Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam said. “Not for that. You missed your court-mandated therapy. It’s like missing a check-in with your PO. I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, you’re under arrest.” Resigned was the only word I could think of to describe Bucky’s expression. He willingly followed and allowed them to handcuff him, quickly shaking his head at us as if to apologize for the ridiculousness as he got into the car. The worst part was I knew that if Sam or I were stupid enough to speak up, the consequences would be far worse than our reluctant cooperation. The car drove off, carrying Bucky and all his demons he hadn’t told his therapist about this week.

Sam and I remained frozen in the street, playing the last five minutes back in our heads. In a little house in a corner of Baltimore sat a war torn, wrongfully imprisoned, black Super Soldier who hadn’t had the suddenly privileged lifestyle Steve Rogers had. Isaiah had been beaten down, experimented on and abused for almost half of his life. The samples that had been taken from his body against his will had been used to create the Super Soldiers we’d met, ones that were out for blood. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam muttered, putting a hand on my back and pulling me into his side protectively. I snuck one last glance at Isaiah’s home, praying that whatever time he had left on earth was spent in the peace he deserved.

——

We hitched a cab ride to the downtown police station and were informed at the front desk that Bucky was being released. His therapist was flying in from New York to come and meet with him.

Sam and I sat in the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting area, him on his phone and me zoning out on the wall. The ‘what ifs’ of our confrontation with the police were still swirling around in my head, each one more brutal than the last.

“I’m not leaving,” I blurted out, “After this, I’m not leaving you guys.” Sam sighed and switched off his phone, “I’m not gonna argue this again with you. I’m keeping you safe, I don’t care whether you like it or not.” “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m feeling,” I turned to him, my eyes watery and my fidgeting fists clenched in my lap. “I’m not going home just so I can sit from a safe distance and worry whether or not you’re gonna die at the hands of some cop who feels brave. Or a bunch of Super Soldiers with a grudge against the world,” I forced the lump building in my throat down, “I’m not going to leave and wait for your body to come back in a casket. The only way I’m going home is if you’re with me.” His lips parted like he was about to say something before deciding against it. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I could see that my speech had affected him. He pulled me into him, my head laying on his shoulder and his arm around my neck. I had worried for my brother’s life when he was first in the service, even more when he first became an Avenger. But that fear couldn’t compare to the kind I felt when the cops disregard each of his truths. I sniffled as I rested against him, trying hard not to imagine a world where Sam Wilson wasn’t by my side.

“Sam,” a women approached us, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor, James’ therapist.” We rose and Sam shook her hand, “So nice to meet you.” “Y/n Y/l/n,” I introduced myself as she extended the same greeting, “Thank you for getting Bucky out.”

“That was not me,” she smiled politely.

“Christina!” a nearby voice shouted, “It’s great to see you again.” 

When bulls see the color red, it angers them to the point that they’ll charge toward it in a fit of rage. My reaction to seeing John Walker in the red white and blue suit was one of a similar caliber.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled, covering my face with my palm. 

“You know him?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day,” Dr. Raynor answered.

Walker strutted towards us, “I heard you were working with Bucky so I thought I’d step in. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.” 

“We haven’t finished our work,” she asserted, “Who authorized this?” Walker held up two hands and aimed them at his arrogant self. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I,” he pointed to me and Sam, “You guys too. I’ll be outside.”

He marched back out through the door he’d come through and if we hadn’t been in a police station, I might have reeled him back in with my energy to inform him of just how low of a chance there was that we’d ever take an order from him. But if we had to go through him to spring Bucky, I’d bite my tongue for his sake.

“James,” Dr. Raynor turned, addressing Bucky who was now leaned up against the nearby counter, “Condition of your release, session now,” she looked over her shoulder towards us, “You too, Sam, Y/n.” Sam was quick to decline for us both, “That’s okay, we’ll be out here-“ “That wasn’t a request.”

Judging by the unenthusiastic glare we were getting from Bucky, he wasn’t any more excited than we were. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave,” I said to Sam, taking the initiative and following Dr. Raynor, once again with the men in my tow.

“What exactly is your relationship with James, Miss Y/l/n?” Dr. Raynor asked as she slowed her pace to match mine. “I don’t have a relationship with him,” I answered plainly, “I only met him yesterday. We got our asses kicked in Munich together.”

We were led into an interrogation room, just as cold and bleak as the ones I’d seen on tv. There were two chairs on each side of the table awaiting us. “Since I’m here primarily to speak with James and Sam, Y/n,” Dr. Raynor removed her coat and placed it on the back of her seat, “You can observe alongside me. You two on that end.” A simple thing as even sitting next to one another seemed like too big an ask for Sam and Bucky. The two of them looked like kids sent to the principal’s office as they begrudgingly sat down. I for one was looking forward to watching them sort out whatever beef they had that I had gotten tangled up in.

“So,” Dr. Raynor set her notebook down on the table, “Who would like to start?” “All right, look, Dr. Raynor?” Sam began, “I get it, why you want me to talk to Freaky Magoo over here. But I’m 100% fine.” Sam’s fatal mistake was darting his eyes over to me before looking back at her. I already knew he was lying, but his tell confirmed it.

“It is my job to make sure that you’re okay,” Dr. Raynor addressed Bucky, “And so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see if you’re getting over whatever’s eating at you.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I agree,” Bucky shook his head.

“This is the first time they’ve agreed on anything for the past twenty four hours,” I spoke up, leaning back in my seat to watch the show unfold.

“See? We’re making progress already,” Dr. Raynor said, “So, who wants to go first?”

Silence.

“No volunteers? Wow, how surprising…” she remarked, “Okay, we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky answered. 

“Of course not,” Sam’s voice overlapped with Bucky’s.

“Okay, it goes like this. Suppose that while you’re sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?’

Bucky suddenly became chatty, “In my miracle, um, he would…he would talk less.”

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” Sam replied, “Isn’t that ironic?”

“You guys are leaving me with no choice,” Dr. Raynor shrugged, “It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise.” “I like this better,” Bucky perkily pointed a finger towards his shrink.

Sam chuckled quietly to himself, “He’s gonna love this.” “Yeah, I’m ready.” “This is right up your alley…” Dr. Raynor motioned for them to rotate, ”Turn around, face each other.” “You should really enjoy this,” Sam said acidly. 

“I’m going to,” Bucky said with a sarcastic smile, the only one I’d seen him wear. “Let’s do it,” he said happily as Sam moved to face him, “Let’s stare. This is a good exercise, thanks Doc.” “Alright, get close,” Dr. Raynor instructed, they scooted slightly towards one another, “Come on, get closer.” With their knees touching, any further would put them much closer than either of them would ever want. “Which way do you want to go?” Bucky asked, “Right or left?” “Why are your legs open?” Sam asked impatiently, “You know what? Fine, here, you happy now?” He used Bucky’s chair to pull him forward so they legs were locked together.

“That’s a little close,” Bucky said loudly, adjusting in his seat. Sam nodded in agreement, “It’s very close, that’s what you wanted, right?” 

I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore, causing both of them to shoot daggers at me. “Is this fun for you?” Sam snapped, gesturing towards their touching thighs. “Very,” I grinned unapologetically.

“Guys,” Dr. Raynor held up a hand to silence us all, “Now, look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes,” they obeyed and lifted their eyes to meet, “There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.” The stares they wore intensified, “Wait, what are you doing?” Dr. Raynor asked, “Are you having a staring contest?” Sam adjusting his eyebrows was her answer, she leaned over the table and snapped her fingers. “Just blink! All right, James, why does Sam aggravate you?” Bucky turned to his therapist with as close to a real smile as I’d seen on him when she cut him off, “And don’t say something childish.” His head lolled to the side in defeat, his pink tongue came out to wet his lips as he thought over his answer. “Why did you give up that shield?” “Why are you making such a big deal over something that has nothing to do with you?” Sam shot back.

“Steve believed in you, he trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason,” Bucky’s emotions were starting to seep out, “That shield, that is- that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield and you threw it away like it was nothing.” “Shut up…” Sam muttered.

“So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”

The way that Bucky’s voice had quivered at the end was telling of just how deep the wound ran. But Sam’s forgoing of the shield was backed by reasons that Bucky could never wrap his mind around.

“You finished?” Sam spoke up, when Bucky said yes, he continued, “All right, good. Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?”

This was the issue that made the heavy silence we were sitting in all the more complicated. Both men were valid in their feelings, but there would be no resolve for either of them. Steve was gone, Walker carried the shield and Bucky and Sam were trying their best to navigate a new world.

Sam scoffed, burying the emotions that I knew he was trying to hide from. “You know what, Doc? I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on separate long vacations and never see each other again.” My eyes widened at how quickly the conversation had escalated. “I like that,” Bucky agreed.

“Great. Well, let’s get to work,” Sam turned to Dr. Raynor, “Thanks, Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better,” he turned to Bucky, “I’ll see you outside.” With a slap to his shoulder, he rose from his seat and was out the door in seconds. There was so much left unresolved that didn’t sit well with me. As Bucky went to stand up, I did too. “Actually, Doctor,” I walked around to table to take Sam’s empty seat, “I’d like to say a few things.” Bucky annoyedly fell back down into his chair and shook his head in irritation. I didn’t particularly care that he didn’t want to speak with me, all he had to do was listen. “I know you and Steve were best friends and I know how much he means to you. But I can’t sit here and watch you berate my brother relentlessly over the fact that he didn’t take up that mantle. It’s easy for someone like Steve to be Captain America without any pushback, but Sam?” I pointed to the closed door, “It’s a whole ‘other ballgame. And while Steve would never have fully understood it, he would have made an effort to. And he wouldn’t be pressuring Sam like you are. You need to drop this and you need to drop it now.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” his razor sharp jaw ticked in anger, “You don’t get to talk about Steve like you knew him or like you understand anything about our friendship. You never met him, you don’t get to speak for him.” He could have never known what button he had just pressed, but my reaction wouldn’t have changed even if he had. I sat up straighter in my chair, my steely eyes boring into him. “I didn’t know Steve? Well, then I guess it was a different Steve Rogers that Sam introduced me to when I came to visit him in D.C. And it must have been a different Steve Rogers that I visited at the Avengers compound when I helped Sam move in,” I leaned forward, the dam in my eyes threatening to break, “It must have been a different Steve Rogers that I ran to when people all around me started turning to dust.”

————

It was pouring rain outside the Avengers compound, the piles of dust that had rested on the ground having long since been washed away. Y/n stormed across the front lawn of the compound to the entrance, she had driven straight through for 20 hours from Delacroix to upstate New York. Getting past security hadn’t been hard once she had said who she needed to speak to and who it regarded.

Her boots squeaked across the floor as she marched through the compound, she’d only been once but she still remembered her way around. She navigated through hallways until she’d found the main room, she only recognized one of the figures that stood hunched over a table in deep discussion. At the sound of her entrance, each one of them turned around. “Y/n…” Steve said in shock, a relieved sigh spilling from his lips, “You’re okay.” “He’s here, right?” she trembled, “He’s in his room or the kitchen? Steve, tell me he’s here.” When Steve didn’t answer and ducked his head, Y/n pushed harder. “Tell me he’s here, Steve.” He looked back up, finally meeting her eyes. “I can’t do that.”

Y/n let the last bit of strength she had slip through her fingers as her soaked form dropped to the floor. Steve was quick to hold her, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that he wasn’t the person she wanted to see most in the world. She sobbed in his arms, the first step in the long process of mourning her brother.

Steve made a true effort to keep in contact with Y/n over the next five years. He flew down to New Orleans to visit every couple months or he offered to fly Y/n up to New York. About two years post Blip were when financial struggles really started to hit Sarah and Y/n’s business and Y/n had to decline each kind offer to meet him on his turf. When she explained why, Steve showed up on her doorstep two days later, ready to stay for the week and help out however he could. It wasn’t hard to see why Sam had bonded so deeply with Steve, he had just as big a heart as her brother.

The day that Sarah and Y/n received the joyous call from Sam that he was back from the dead was the best day of their lives. Y/n called Steve immediately after to tell him the news and thank him for whatever part she had guessed he’d played in reuniting their family. Her calls kept going to voicemail. After Sam’s reunion with his sisters and nephews, he took Y/n aside and handed her an envelope. Inside it was a letter from Steve explaining that he wouldn’t be returning after the restoration of the population. He wished her a good life with her family and that he had valued her friendship and kindness towards him. As brokenhearted as Y/n had been over the loss of her friend, when Sam told her the true reason behind Steve’s sudden disappearance, she was overjoyed that Steve had gotten somebody he loved back too.

Steve Rogers was there for Y/n in some of her darkest hours. They had bonded deeply, their friendship a single ray of light in their then darkened world. To see his shield paraded around by someone who didn’t embody the same qualities and values that he did hurt more than she let on. The world may have accepted John Walker, but he’d never be Captain America in Y/n’s eyes.

————

I had somehow made it through my retelling of my time with Steve without completely breaking down. A river of silent tears streamed down my cheeks but my voice held firm. 

Bucky’s harsh stare had diminished significantly the longer I spoke. His plush lips were parted in surprise, words I didn’t care to hear hanging off of them.

“I don’t ever want to hear that I didn’t know Steve Rogers,” my voice threatened to break finally, “You’re not the only one who wants to protect his legacy.” Dr. Raynor had remained so silent while I talked, I’d forgotten she was there until she offered me a tissue. I hastily wiped my cheeks, ducking away from Bucky’s gaze. “Thank you, Doctor,” I said softly as I stood up, “This has been really helpful.” I wrapped my arms tight around my torso and exited the room as quick as I could, making a beeline for the lobby to find Sam. When he spotted me, he stood to attention. “What’s wrong? What happened?” “Nothing,” I shook my head, “I just want to get out of here.” He placed a protective hand on my shoulder as he watched me sniffle the last of my tears away. Bucky joined us seconds later, I couldn’t look directly at him after bearing so much of myself to him. The three of us left the police station in a now familiar silence, each deep in thought about what we’d revealed. 

“Well, I feel better,” Sam said as we stepped out into the cool evening air. “I feel awful,” Bucky grumbled.

A siren whooping caught our attention, I wished it hadn’t. There stood Lemar Hoskins and John Walker, waving at us and calling us over. The three of us reluctantly made our way towards them. “Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and humored him, “So what do you got?”

“Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau,” Walker explained, “We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.” “They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal,” Hoskins interjected, “But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.” 

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps,” Walker finished.

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip,” Bucky spoke up across from me, “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” Walker smiled, “Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” “Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky asked. “No, we don’t know, Bucky,” his voiced raised, highlighting his frustrations, “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” If I knew anything about Bucky by now, it was that he had no issue with provoking people. “Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” I clapped my hands together once, “Okay, if this keeps going, someone’s probably gonna end up back in there behind bars so let’s just settle down.” “Look, Walker’s right,” Sam stepped forward, “It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

We didn’t make it further than a three steps when Walker spoke up again. “Miss Y/l/n,” I stopped walking at his call, “You’re an enhanced individual, right?” “I’m what they call a mutant,” I spun on my heels to face him, “But to simplify it, sure, I’m enhanced.” Walker raised a condescending eyebrow, “Are you familiar with the Sokovian Accords?”

My spine stiffened, he was trying to blackmail me without actually saying the words. I was far too familiar with the accords and the ramifications they’d had on the Avengers. They’d sent Steve and Sam on the run for two years. “I think I’ve heard of them, yeah,” I smiled humorlessly. “It clearly states that any enhanced individuals who haven’t signed are not authorized to participate in any national or international conflicts or any missions run by private organizations such as the Avengers,” he gestured towards Sam, “You’re running with an Avenger, aren’t you?” A mirthless chuckle fell from my mouth as I watched him try and intimidate me. “Look, Craptain America,” I took slow and calculated steps towards him, “You can order your partner around or the soldiers that look up to you, but don’t think for one second that you can threaten me and try to pull the same shit the government did with Wanda Maximoff. I’m not going to be told who I can and cannot help.” Walker looked down at me menacingly, resembling a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way. “A word of advice then,” he said, eyes flicking between Sam, Bucky and I, “Stay the hell out of my way.” The juxtaposition between him and Steve had never been more apparent. Here he was daring to threaten me with incarceration followed by an ominous warning when it hadn’t worked. Bucky, Sam and I waited until him and Hoskins had left before heading our own way. “‘Craptain America?’” Sam echoed, slinging an arm around my neck, “I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.” “It was a low blow,” I admitted with a contradictory smirk.

“Someone needed to say it,” Bucky chimed in, hesitantly looking over to me before quickly averting his gaze back to the sidewalk.

“Do I need to be worried that he threatened me with the accords? Are Sarah and I going to have S.H.I.E.L.D showing up on our door or something?” I asked.

“I think he’s just trying to intimidate you, but…” Sam inhaled wearily, “But I’d rather keep you here with us, just to be safe. If anybody were to come, we could protect you.” My smile grew as I looked up at Sam, the parameters of how to keep me safe had changed in my favor. I was almost grateful Walker had threatened me. “I can stay?” “Stop looking so happy about it,” Sam dropped his arm from around me, “This isn’t going to be easy,” he looked to our left to Bucky, “So what are you thinking?”

“Well, I know what we have to do,” he answered, if he had reservations about me sticking around, he was kind enough not to mention them. “When Isaiah said “my people…””

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant HYDRA, HYDRA used to be my people.”

Sam thought the answer over for a second, decoding it. “Not a chance,” he scoffed.

“Walker doesn’t have any leads,” Bucky shrugged.

“I know where you’re going with this, no.” “He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” “Wait, you’re not talking about…” I sought out Bucky’s eyes that were still dodging mine. I didn’t need a history lesson on who he was referring to. “No. Not him. He’s crazy.” “We don’t exactly have a lot of other options,” Bucky said as if that was justification for what he wanted to do. “So you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?” Sam asked. Bucky hesitated, searching for a more sophisticated answer. “Y-yes.” I may have been allowed to stay, but I knew that I wasn’t experienced enough yet to argue on their level. They knew when and how to make the difficult calls, they could operate in a grey area with little to no issues. All I could do was sit back, be taken along for the ride and tolerate any passengers who got in along the way.

“Okay, then,” Sam finally concurred, “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

————

I couldn’t sleep.

We were back on the jet speeding back to Germany, this time with an even more sinister problem at hand. I had wanted to come along, I just hadn’t guessed that the reason I’d be allowed to stay would be because of a threat to my safety. All because of my powers. This was the reason why my father had been hellbent on keeping them a secret. I felt in a way that I’d failed him, that somewhere in the afterlife he was disappointed in me for telling the truth, even if I’d done it for the right reasons. Sam was conked out next to me, I envied his military training to get quick sleep wherever he could. I personally felt like I’d injected caffeine into my veins back in Maryland and hadn’t been able to come down since.

“Can’t sleep?” Bucky asked from where he laid on the floor, I thought he’d been unconscious the whole time.

“Can’t imagine why,” I dryly chuckled, “We’re only flying cross country to sit down and meet with one of the world’s most dangerous criminals. Why the floor?” “Oh,” he’d sat up and was looking back down at his lousy makeshift bed, his jacket balled up as a pillow and an itchy blanket, “It’s, uh, hard to explain.”

After a few seconds of near uncomfortable silence, he pushed himself up and made his way to where I sat. I tucked my legs under me to make room for his burly body. He was big enough that with all the space I’d tried to give him, my knees still brushed against his thick thigh. He sighed loudly, giving voice to the divide that if we’d have gone our separate ways, as planned, wouldn’t have mattered. Now that we were going to be working together, we couldn’t ignore what had been said in that interrogation room.

“Listen, about what…happened,” his face contorted in a mild cringe as he played the scene back in his head, “I’m sorry, for what I said.” “You didn’t know,” I offered, picking at a loose thread on my jacket, “I don’t talk about Steve a whole lot except with Sam.” “Still, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” Bucky continued, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ve been rude since we met and that’s not okay. Especially when all you’ve done is try and help.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I leaned my head against the back of my seat, “No permanent damage done.” His thumbs danced together, his brows were knitted in concentration as he prepared to speak. “Can I, uh, ask you about your powers?”

I twisted so that I could properly face him, “Ask away.” “How did they happen?” “I was born with them, actually. I’ve got this thing called the X-gene, it’s supposed to manifest at puberty but for me it activated when I was really young,” I ran a hand through my hair, “Imagine being five years old and having blue come out of your fingers when you were reaching for a juice box.” A miracle occurred and Bucky’s lips actually quirked up in a half smile. It encouraged me to keep talking. “My mom wanted to take me to this school for kids like me but my dad forbade it. He kept saying that it was too dangerous and that somebody could find me. It was like he didn’t realize that it was a refuge for people with powers, not a hunting ground,” I paused, flashing back to arguments between my parents of which one of them actually knew what was best for me. “So instead, I just taught myself how to control them. There were a couple incidents but other than that, I’ve kept them under lock and key for a long time.”

Bucky had remained still and fascinated as I spoke, switching between watching my eyes and my lips. Suddenly it felt like nothing had ever gone on between us. We were just fellow soldiers or co-workers having a conversation outside of work.

“What do they think now? Your parents?” he asked, the ease of the moment slipping away with a simple question. He couldn’t have known the minefield he was stepping into.

“My mom doesn’t know yet that I told Sam,” I sighed deeply, inhaling strength and exhaling bad memories, “And my dad killed himself when I was a kid.” “Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into-“

“No, no, it’s fine…” I waved him off, “Whether I want it to be or not, it’s a part of me. He was in the service and when he returned, he was diagnosed with severe PTSD. I was so young when he came home that I don’t really have any memories of him before it happened. He had all the classic symptoms; flashbacks, nightmares, paranoia, fits of anger, at some point he even stopped believing that he was a good father and husband,” I tear slipped down my cheek, “That was around the time it happened. We tried for so long to help him but the trauma consumed him. Every day he was just doing his best to survive himself.” I glanced up at Bucky to find that his eyes were just as watery as mine. It hadn’t dawned on me that I was telling him everything that he already knew about what happened when someone returned from war. He was living it out right now. 

“I’m not trying to strike any nerves but…in that session tonight, I saw how much you were holding in. With Sam, with me…” I started, praying I wasn’t going to end up pushing him further away, “I’ve seen what bottling things up and isolating yourself can do to a person and it’s a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I know you don’t trust me yet but…if you ever do need somebody to talk to…I can’t understand your experiences, but I can recognize some of it.” Bucky truly looked lost, like he’d never been in the position of receiving such an offer. His face, usually so hardened, had softened so much he was almost unrecognizable. And yet there was still some barrier, some pain weaved between the hope and vulnerability that kept him from receiving my kindness with open arms. In the session, the pain I had seen in his eyes reminded me so desperately of that in my father’s eyes. If I didn’t try to help him, that look would haunt me for a long time.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice raspy enough to make me shiver. We sat there in the dark, both our walls we’d built around ourselves starting to crumble as we chipped away at one another. There was some feeling I couldn’t put a name to that had settled over us. The eyes that I’d avoided all day were now all I could focus on, digging into the deep blue pools and feeling like I could lay down my sword there. If we were going to get through this mission, we needed to be friends at least and I felt confidant we were on the path.

Bucky eventually cleared his throat, shaking me from my thoughts that he was at the center of. “We’re gonna be to Berlin soon, you should get some sleep.”

Internally, I smiled at the familiarity, it was almost word for word what he’d told me the other night. Only now the hostility had been dropped.

“You need it too,” I replied as he rose and made his way across the plane, “Goodnight, Barnes.” I curled up in a ball near Sam’s feet, praying he didn’t kick me in his sleep. I had just shut my eyes to try when a voice spoke up, “Bucky.”

“Hmm?” I opened one eye to see him lay back down on the floor, attempting to get comfortable.

“Call me Bucky.”

I pursed my lips slightly to decrease the size of my smile, I wasn’t the only one laying down their weapons. “Alright. Goodnight, Bucky.”

----

A/N: There’s something so powerful about name dropping Wanda Maximoff and Y/n having been besties with Steve Rogers lol. Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged! 

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[danielxricciardo]

Hi there! I don’t know if you got my ask before😭 but I did sent one about Daniel being jealous type? Like Max is Reader’s ex and got bit too touchy and familiar to the reader at party, and like Daniel and Max got into a fight and where other drivers need to break them up. Angst story please! I wanna see Daniel super jealous and protective over his gf.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I am so sorry for not writing the last request!!! I had an extremely busy period and there will be a few more crazy weeks! At first I tried to write in order but I didn't have much inspiration so I started writing randomly! So sorry again!

Summary: You are Daniel's girlfriend and he is jealous on Max, your ex.

Warnings: angst, a little swearing

Word count: 1.7k

Jealousy is an insane feeling... It comes out when you are very affectionately attached to someone or that even the thought of its possession with someone else creates a rage in your heart.

It can be constructive or destructive depending on how you presume to take it.

For him, in any way, it feels like his heart is in a constant state of dropping, his legs get shaky, he feels a twisting in his stomach and all he wants to do is snap at people. It's a horrible feeling that he feels a lot.

Jealousy can come from the fear of losing one or more of the following: power, love, sex, and possessions. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. It exists for a reason, to protect ourselves, but can cause havoc if left unchecked.

A jealous man who feels insecure in himself believes he’s not good enough to keep another person attracted to him over time. He fears that someone better than him is going to make his loved one reconsider their relationship.

Daniel never showed you that he was jealous. Although you were Max's ex-girlfriend, Max should be the one upset and jealous of the two, right? Because after you two broke up, friendly, of course, you soon got together with his best friend.

"Hey, love!" Daniel called to you from the bathroom. "I know you won't let me see the dress, although it is bullshit to me because we're going to a gala, not to our wedding, but can you at least tell me what color it will be? I need to choose a tie."

"Red." you answer from the bedroom, focused not to ruin your nail polish. "And it's not bullshit. I want to surprise you."

"For all I care, you can come dressed in a sack of potatoes and I will still think you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Mmm I smell bullshit!" you joke.

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is an annual event promoted by Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile which honors the achievements of all drivers over the past season.

Although you are not new to this sport, going to Grand Prix as the girlfriend of a driver for more than 5 years, you have never been present at a gala. Of course, you were invited every year, only something always happened and you couldn't go. This year, however, you wanted to be present, especially since Daniel was going to receive the Action of the Year award.

Daniel left before you, he and the boys rented a limousine with which they would get there, and you and the other girls would arrive, also with a limousine. You're not the type to refuse a limousine, especially since you've never been in one, but Daniel and the other boys had to leave their personal cars at the gala because the limousine won't leave you at home, you'll each go to your homes with your own cars.

You were wearing a beautiful backless, tight-fitting red dress, having almost like a silk texture to it, perfectly shaped to fit your figure, strapless, having a corset that makes your breasts bigger than they really were.

When Daniel saw you, you were sure he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His already large eyes seemed to protrude from his pupils. Your heart had started beating faster, and you had butterflies in your stomach. Even though you had been together for more than three years, you still felt like you were looking at him for the first time.

"You're splendid," he tells you when he helps you out of the limousine. He kisses your hand and you see the dozens of paparazzi flashes towards you.

"You don't look bad either," you answer and enter the building.

Inside were hundreds of people talking to each other and looking like they were having fun. Daniel leads you to your table where you two were seated with Max, Charles, Esteban, and Sebastian with their girlfriends.

"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asks you as he takes off his jacket and leaves it on the back of the chair.

"A glass of white wine."

Daniel kissed you on the cheek and went to get you your drinks. You look around to try to recognize someone and notice that Max is coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! Wow, you're so beautiful!" he says and takes your hand to spin you to see you well. "Daniel is a lucky man."

You giggle.

"I saw Kelly, she's gorgeous too! And you're a lucky man because you have her."

He laughs and takes a sip of his drink.

"Yes, you're right. She looks great," he says and looks after her.

Kelly was talking with two women you didn't recognize. It was as if she felt the two of you looking at her, she turned her head towards you and waved.

"Daniel will receive an award, right? Good for him."

"Yes!" you say joyful. "I'm so proud of him."

Max leans over and lightly touches your cheek. You look at him with wide eyes, not understanding what was happening.

"You had a fallen eyelash," he says. "Make a wish."

Before you even thought about a wish to make, you heard glasses breaking, then you saw Max thrown to the floor by someone. Not just someone. Daniel.

Your head was buzzing and you couldn't hear what Daniel was shouting. But you could hear the sound of his fists and the screams of several people who immediately came to separate them.

"What the fuck? Daniel!" Max said as soon as he was lifted from under Daniel.

Kelly immediately ran to him and took his face in her hands, looking for the wounds. He was going to have some pretty big bruises.

"She's my girlfriend!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately looked at Max, who mimicked your movements. What the hell was Daniel talking about?

"Yeah, and Kelly is my girlfriend too. Are we still getting to know each other or are you going to tell me what the fuck happened to you, dickhead?"

"And your girlfriend, Kelly, does she agree with this intimacy between you and Y/N? And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw you earlier, you almost kissed!"

"Do you hear what you're saying, jerk? She had a fallen eyelash! Get your head out of your ass and realize that no one is trying to steal your girlfriend. Neither I nor anyone else."

You snort and everyone turns to you. Your face had taken on the color of the dress: red. You were angry. You were shaking and you wanted to beat Daniel, but you were at a formal event; although that didn't stop Daniel from punching Max a few times. You take a step towards Daniel and slap him across the face, hard enough to sting.

"In the car. Now!" You command Daniel and head for the exit, all the people who had gathered around you now getting out of your way.

In the car, none of you had said anything. You didn't know if you had to start saying something or you should wait for him. You had so much to say, but how did you get started? You had so many curses prepared for him, but in what order did you tell them? You wanted to die of shame because of the little stunt Daniel did inside.

You snort, probably for the hundredth time in just a few minutes, and get out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Daniel shouted after me.

He's joking? Because it seems so to you. How dare he ask you where you're going, considering that since you got back in the car he hasn't said a damn thing. He even acted as if your presence bothered him. It's like he doesn't care about you.

You wanted to leave. Go home.

It's just a small problem. The building where the gala took place was in a part of town where you had never been before. You didn't know the way back to the house, you didn't have any money with you to get an Uber and you didn't want to enter the building you just left, ashamed, to ask someone to take you home.

Even though you didn't know where you were, you got out of the car and head for the gate you entered by car.

"Y/N!"

You snort angrily and hurry up. You try to keep calm and not run away, although you are sure that you could not run considering that you are wearing huge heels. You don't realize when he got behind you but now he grabs your hand and stops you. You try to jerk, but he only tightens his grip around your wrist. You face him, giving him the angriest look you're capable of, but he doesn't even deserve it.

"Let me go, please."

You frown. Daniel doesn't say anything and doesn't move, as if he were a stone sheepfold. He is tense and slightly agitated. Finally, he withdraws his hand, then passes it through his curly hair, then puts it in the pocket of his cloth pants.

"I am sorry," he says softly and you can barely hear what he said. "I was jealous."

"Jealousy? Why?"

He shrugs.

"I have no idea."

"You do not trust me?" you ask, feeling like you're about to cry.

He nods frantically.

"It's not like that at all... My jealousy does not come from a lack of trust. It comes with the insecurity when I thought that someone may take my place or was trying to take my place."

"But Max and I are in the past, you are my future..." you say and bite your lip. "You had to talk to me, not pull that little stunt inside. Do you realize what the papers will say tomorrow?"

"Do you think you can forgive me?"

"You need to apologize to Max. I won't have the whole face bruised tomorrow."

[strawbearisamu]

for a day like this

timeskip! hanamaki takahiro x gn! reader

summary: a coincidence on a train ride home leads to a confession and kissing in the rain.

note: requested by anon :) here, semi long one guys

cw: light swearing, semi makeout scene

wc: 1.8k 

the sky shrouded by a dense fog, the blue of it completely concealed by a covering of wooly grey clouds. rain continuing to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard a disembodied female voice announce the departure of the train. you sighed, train starting to move as you look out your window only to see a strike of lightning, the muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of the impending consequences of today's events.

"miss..miss...excuse me miss?" shaken from your daze, you meet the face of a middle aged woman carrying an infant and a young child, "miss, would you mind switching seats with me? there just isn't enough space for my baby's breastfeeding equipment on the other side." she asked apologetically, "even though i specifically requested it," mumbling the last part under her breath.

you press your lips in to a small smile, grabbing your things as she thanked you in relief, your eyes light up at a familiar shade of strawberry brown, occupying the very seat next to the one you were supposed to replace, "makki?" you couldn’t help the grin as called out from behind.

he whipped his head towards you, eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he eyed you a few times. as if making sure you weren't a fake, making sure the familiar resonance and tenor of your voice, the one he replays to himself some nights, making sure it wasn't just an auditory hallucination. "y/n."

eyes lighting up with excitement, you speed up towards him, engulfing his sitting form in a warm hug, arms wrapped around his neck as he breaths in your scent.

"missed me huh?" you don't miss the playful glint in his eyes as you finally let him go. "yeah," a beaming grin displacing the forlorn look on your face.

"what were you doing in the city?" you asked, squeezing past him into the window seat as he towered over to the side of the walkway to make room, you see his eyes glaze over for a split second before he says "just a reunion with the boys."

"how are they! you guys were always quite the gang."

"yeah," he paused, slight hesitation lingering in his voice, "they're good i mean, really good."

the thunder crackling, a shot of lightning briefly lighting the gloomy sky as the scenery beyond your cabin window blurred with the speeding train.

"you look awful," he says, words slipping out absentmindedly, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he spluttered an apology, rambling on, "not as in you're ugly but your clothes, your stuff, it just looks a little...disheveled."

you burst into laughter, the first time today, "my bag was stolen today, some guy on a motorbike snatched it and knocked me over, it was crazy! i tried chasing him too!" you recounted the story again, but for the first time today, in humour.

"pfft, sorry not the point, you tried chasing him?" his mouth curving into his signature lazy grin.

"what's your point strawberry head?" narrowing your eyes at him as he raised his hands, pleading innocence. "you okay though?"

"i'll survive, can't say the same for my job, had some really important work documents there, weren't supposed make copies, now they're gone."

"oh..."

"yeah, i'm so pissed but well the jury will be out after the weekend," you sighed, "but anyway should we be talking about how you look just as bad as me, makki?"

a boyish laugh resonates from him, it does something to you, the familiar scratchiness of it inscribed in your mind from long ago. the corner of his eyes crinkled, "shit i guess i do," he said. "mhmm," you hummed, nodded along in laughter.

"the reunion," he cleared his throat, "i mean first off, this is not even close to being as bad as your day," he precautioned.

"just get on with it," you rolled your eyes.

twisting and fiddling the ring on his pinky, "just saw everyone doing really well, what with oikawa and iwaizumi being on olympic teams, even mattsun has a steady career and plan you know? i think i'm second guessing myself? i thought i was living life, having fun, but sometimes everything feels like filler before death.”

you nodded along to him, listening intently. you had always known makki to be more of a free spirit so this was rare.

"we all have those days," you mumble under your breath.

you let a comfortable silence fall between you, rummaging your bag for the slightly squished convenience store sandwich and your earphones.

"it’s tough huh, trying to find our place now.” you said, handing him one side of your earphones.

“yeah, so much easier when you’re two dumbasses goofing around, playing with erasers and tic tac toe during class," he slotted in the bud, and you do the same, as the ambient music filled your ears.

“you and mattsun?" you probed.

“no you, you and me.” for second his playful facade falters. his eyes lingering on yours as you held each other captive, your stare burning through his enigmatic grey eyes, a raw emotional intensity that made it seem like time had slowed down, neither of you finding the courage to make a move in the moment of impenetrable tension.

"i guess the rain is quite fitting for a day like this." you finally dared to look away, taking in the storm weathering just beyond your window, "but somehow i feel a little better now makki. maybe it's your pink hair."

"you do love it," he said, "i feel a little better too," he whispered, and you barely catch it.

—

he took a deep breath in, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “miyagi air right? nothing like it.”

“can’t tell if you’re a free spirit or an old man now.” you stepped off the platform, bags in hand.

"let me walk you tonight. you don’t have an umbrella.”

“neither do you?” you pointed out, handing him one of your bags as the both of you walked towards the exit.

"don't worry, i've got a plan," he winked a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

—

the wind howls, your hair violently blowing into his face, "this was your genius plan makki? run a little faster will you!" you shout over the blaring pour of the rain, incredulous.

"easy for you to say, you're not the one hauling your heavy ass bag." one of your bags slung around his shoulder, arms stretched around the both of you as he holds his jacket up for cover. well, your cover, his exposed side completely drenched.

"we're close," you called out, awkwardly trudging across the puddle ridden road, his warmth emanating from beside you as your heart raced in your chest, though you couldn't decide if that was the rain or makki, more probably both you finally decided.

"we actually made it in one piece." you breathe a sigh of relief as you finally made it under the roof of your home, catching your breath a little as he twisted his rain soaked jacket.

"what are you waiting for? aren't you gonna open it?" he asked.

"okay what?"

"open the door?"

"i don't have the keys, they got stolen remember?" you said dubiously, now working the water out of your clothes as he gave you a baffled look.

"what? how are we gonna get in?

"well i assumed you had the keys?"

"how in the world would in have your keys?"

"in that confe-, letter i gave you? said you were here all the time you might as well have the key and gave you a key?"

"letter? what letter, y/n?"

"wait the letter...you didn't receive it?" the colour in your face drained, you took a sudden notice to his drenched figure.

"you're soaked dumbass." you say in an attempt to quickly move on, unzipping your bag to pull out a fresh t-shirt. he tries to stop you but you don't let him.

"shut up just let me do this makki." you pull on his forearm, tugging him down to meet your eye-level, his face inches from yours as you gently pat his face and neck dry.

"is this just an excuse to kiss me?" the same lazy smirk playing on his face again but his expression morphs into an unreadable one, eyes clouding, "the letter," he whispered looking down at you, his bangs skirting his lashes as you dabbed his cheek with a t-shirt.

"you wish you could kiss me," you joke.

"i do wish," he doesn't.

"was it a confession?" you didn't answer him, "can i kiss you makki?" the burning desire held off long enough as you somehow found the courage to ask.

makki broke into a smile, clumsily taking your hands in his, hurriedly dragging you back into the rain shower. hard rain hitting you, massaging your head, but even as you felt your senses become overwhelmed your attention was still singly engrossed by the man in front of you.

"what are you doing? i just patted you dry!" you reprimanded him, shouting over the pour of the rain, looking up at him, now 6'1, his soft gaze easily slipping past your faux stern one.

"it's more dramatic this way," he whispered, his hand gently caressing your face, thumb running circles on the now flushed apples of your cheek, his eyes becoming clearer to you as you finally begun to understand the liquid grey eyes that held you captive for so long. your heart speeding up again, butterflies fluttering aggressively in your stomach.

you tiptoed a little, eagerly reaching a hand into his now drenched strawberry pink hair that you were always so fixated on. he responded in kind, securing an arm around your waist, hoisting you up, you body colliding into his warmth, lower lip tingling a little as he traced it with his slightly calloused thumb. finally, he cups your jaw, taking your lips in his.

his lips warm, soft, impossibly plush against your own, the soft tickle of your hair on his cheek, your honeyed taste playing on his tongue, the shared warmth between you melding into one, your heartbeat synchronous, in perfect parallel with your harmonised movement. lips slightly parted, he bit your lower lip as you moaned a little.

"you think the neighbours can see us?" you pulled away, holding his cheeks in your hands, still in a slight daze.

"don't know, don't care."

"when did it become a drizzle?" you asked as he shrugged in response, desperate to capture your lips in his again.

and you guys stood there, in the light drizzle of the rain, soft rays of sunlight finally peaking through the glum clouds, making out for the audience of your entire neighbourhood, enjoying the petrichor of the rain. because yeah you were still locked out of your house, yeah you were probably getting fired and yeah he still didn't know shit about what he was gonna do, but everything seemed just a little bit better.

"i guess the rain was quite fitting for a day like this.”

sol's comments: can you tell i have no idea how to write a makeout scene? :")

m.list | each and every reblop is appreciated ☻ (+ free hugs)