#( she tries to pretend her past never happened but over time it shows itself more and more )

[lausticzt-a]

Things that make me sad is someone asking Laura to hold their baby for a moment while they do something and god does she freak out, what do you want her to do with it? Ask someone else- this is awkward, she is holding the baby awkwardly, she's trying to play it off but she's so panicked that she looks at the baby in discomfort. But all it takes is a few seconds of actually looking down at them for her to be captivated, with so much heartbreak. That she's holding a baby who stares up at her with curiosity and the most innocent eyes, and it takes the mother a few tries to get her attention. She'd watch them leave and even after they are gone just, stare in that direction. If it's her first time holding a baby, she'd be on the brink of tears, and if you witness that, no you don't, she's already storming away because if she says anything she knows she'll break, little by little.

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (crossposted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 2

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it – except you didn’t know quite how wrong it was, and you don’t know what to do. That feeling of being watched that Shirakumo mentioned has come. It isn’t constant, like he described it. You can feel that there are moments when the ghost’s eyes are elsewhere, moments when it’s just existing alongside you, like it did before. And then there are moments where it’s scrutinizing your every move, its eyes – if it even has eyes – running over you again and again, even if you haven’t moved. You never know when it will happen or why. All you know is that sometimes you’re being watched and sometimes you aren’t, by a thing that can at least pretend to look human.

You don’t want to feel unsettled. You don’t want to let it win. This is your goddamn house, and it’s too late for you to leave. You like it here. You might even love it. The ghost can’t change that, even if it tries. Or so you tell yourself. You’re not sure that the ghost is trying to get rid of you at all. But when it comes to whatever’s happening here, the ghost has the upper hand, and there’s not much you can do to fight back – except negate its main advantage over you. It likes to be invisible. And now you know how to force it to show itself.

For a few days you make do with a spray bottle, misting the air every so often and watching the water droplets settle around an invisible figure, revealing shoulders, torso, the shape of a head. The spray bottle doesn’t last for long enough, so you scale up your efforts. The next time you’re outside watering the small garden you’ve planted, you wait until the ghost’s gaze settles on you, then turn around and spray the spot where you think it’s standing with the hose. Unfortunately you also spray Phantom, who was sprawled out in the grass, and she runs away with an indignant yelp.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you call uselessly after her. But the hose is working a hell of a lot better than the spray bottle did. Enough that you can see the whole shape of the ghost for the first time, head to toe. You don’t get any details of its face, but you know its height (a few inches taller than you) and its build (not bulky, but lean), and you’re not sure, but you think its hair might be long. Past its chin, just brushing its shoulders. That isn’t that long, if you’re talking about a woman. But Jin and Himiko were pretty insistent that your ghost is male, and you think they’re probably right. You don’t know how you feel about that.

There’s also nothing you can do about it. All you can do is keep escalating. The ghost can steal your privacy, but now you can steal its privacy, too. Even when you don’t catch the ghost, you can catch where it’s just been – a trail of fading footsteps, a handprint on the banister, a disturbed spot in the velour cushions on the couch. That weirds you out more than anything else. Your couch has three cushions. One for you, the one in the middle for Phantom, and apparently the ghost has been hanging out on the third one. If it’s going to start using your furniture, you should start charging it rent.

You haven’t tried talking to it in a while, and it hasn’t shown itself to you purposely since it made you drop your flour. The silence feels weird and awkward, but you don’t really know what to fill it with anymore. It was easier to talk to the thing in your house when it was just a presence. It’s harder when it’s got a mind and a will of its own, and when it’s clearly got plans for you. You don’t want to encourage any of those plans until you know what they are. And because of that, you find yourself spending a lot less time in your house.

You’ve been trying to walk Phantom more, and trying to meet more of your neighbors other than Himiko and Jin, and you’ve sort of had some luck. You’ve met another late-teens, early-twenties guy with a Switch and a skateboard who lives in an orange house with his mom, or his older sister, or something – his name is Spinner, and his older female relative’s name is Magne. You’ve met a kid named Shinsou who lives up near the top of the street with his parents and baby sister, and a guy named Keigo whose house always seems to be smoking faintly. He raced out of his house to stop you the first time you tried to call the emergency line about it.

They seem nice, but there’s a certain way they look at you. Expectantly. Like they’re waiting for something. You wish you knew what it was.

One afternoon the sky is grey, and you seize the opportunity offered by the cooler weather to take Phantom for a longer walk than usual. That turns out to be a mistake. The rain starts when you’re a solid three kilometers away from home, and the lightning and thunder kicks up before you’re even halfway back. Phantom hates thunder, and she tries to bolt. You manage to avoid getting yanked off your feet long enough to scoop her up in your arms, and even though she’s heavy, you carry her the rest of the way home.

By the time you get back, you’re both drenched, and Phantom is shivering. You manage to hold off your awareness of the cold until after you’ve dried Phantom off and dragged out a space heater for her to sit in front of, but once you’ve got that taken care of, you realize that you’re shivering just as badly as she is. It’s August and you’ve somehow managed to give yourself a chill, and drying yourself off and joining Phantom in front of the heater isn’t going to cut it. You need a shower. A hot one.

As dumb as it feels to be taking a hot shower in August, you can’t deny that it feels really good to warm up. You almost never like being warm. You’ve always preferred the comfort of being cold, of curling up tight in a blanket or an oversized sweater to keep it out. Cold is comforting. But warmth is – relaxing. Relaxing enough that you forget, just a little bit, the nonsense of your job and the nonsense with your ghost. Relaxing enough that instead of staying quiet, you sing.

Singing in the shower was something you did in your apartment, back before your roommate told you that you had a shitty voice and she hated hearing it. But there’s no one around to complain now, so you sing whatever pops into your head without worrying about what it sounds like. This is your house, and you live here alone. You can sing if you want to.

You’ve sung through your favorite song five times before you finally start to warm up, and you switch off the water at last. You open the shower door just far enough to grab your towel and wrap it around yourself, not wanting to give the chill even the smallest chance at you. Then you push the door the rest of the way open and step out onto the mat.

The bathroom is full of steam. A lot more steam than you thought there’d be. You can barely see the mirror through it, and there’s something blocking your view. It takes you long seconds to piece it together, to remember the first time anyone saw evidence of your ghost, to think of all the things you’ve done to try to reveal its presence. The figure of the ghost displaces the steam completely. For the first time, you’re looking directly at the ghost. The whole ghost. Face to face.

Jin and Himiko were right. Your ghost is a man. Not a particularly old man – in fact, he looks like he’s your age, or like he was your age, when he was alive. The definition provided by the room full of steam shows you details you couldn’t see before. Your ghost has a small scar over the corner of his mouth, a larger one over his right eye. He raises one hand to scratch at the side of his neck, brushing aside his overlong hair as he looks you up and down. You, in your towel, with your hair plastered to your skull from the water and your skin flushed from the heat. Your ghost looks you up and down, makes eye contact, and smiles.

You can’t decide whether that smile is creepy or not. Either way, you don’t want to look at it any longer. You turn away until you’re facing the condensation-covered mirror, but that’s no good. You can just barely see a blurry reflection of your own shocked face, and behind you, over your shoulder, the ghost’s maybe-creepy smile. You squeeze your eyes shut before you speak. “You’re my ghost.”

You regret the possessive almost instantly. You expect the ghost to argue, but it doesn’t speak. All you hear is an odd squeaking sound, and when you open your eyes again, you find the shape of a hand in the steam, drawing letters in the condensation on the mirror. Yes.

Okay, it talks. He talks. “Who are you?”

Your ghost.

Maybe he can only repeat what he’s heard. You ask him a question he won’t be able to answer with your words. “Who am I?”

Mine.

“No,” you say reflexively. The steam ripples behind you. “What do you mean?”

The ghost’s handwriting isn’t great. Mine to haunt.

Your first impulse is to say that the ghost isn’t all that great at haunting. You haven’t been scared until just now, and you’re not even all that sure you’re scared. You’re confused. You’re not pleased about the fact that you’re wearing a towel and nothing else while the ghost is hanging out fully clothed in the steam. And you still don’t know what the ghost wants. You don’t even know its name. Does it have a name? Does it even remember what its name was?

“What do I call you?” you ask. This time you keep looking at him, and you see a puzzled expression cross the ghost’s face. “Your name.”

He gets that, at least. He reaches forward eagerly. His handwriting is worse when he’s excited about something. It takes you a few moments to decipher it. “Tomura,” you say slowly, and the ghost grins at you in the mirror. That smile isn’t creepy. At least, you don’t think it is. “Hi.”

Hi.

So you’ve made introductions. You take stock of the situation. Your ghost has a name, and it’s Tomura, and he still doesn’t seem to want to hurt you – just haunt you, although he kind of sucks at it. But the biggest question is one you still don’t have an answer to. “Tomura,” you say, “what do you want?”

His expression shifts in a way that makes you really nervous. He’s focused on something, almost scowling – and then his expression distorts into a snarl. You flinch back from the mirror as a hand smears through Tomura’s answers to your questions. Is it his hand? What did you do? Why did he get angry so quickly? Your flinch has carried you backwards, right into the cold spot, and suddenly you lose all your nerve. You push open the bathroom door and bolt for your room.

Once you’re there, you grab the first clothes you can find, pulling them on without caring whether they match. Then you race downstairs, scoop up Phantom and your wallet and your phone, and scramble into your car. You can’t remember if you locked your house. You don’t care. You turn the key in the ignition, throw your car into reverse, and drive.

You’re not sure how long you drive, but you know you’re driving in circles, never getting too far away from home. Is it actually home? It was the ghost’s home – Tomura’s home – before it was yours. You thought you and the ghost were getting along okay, but now he’s angry, and you don’t know why. What did you do? What would have happened if you stayed? What’s going to happen if you go back? Is it going to feel as unfriendly to you as it apparently does to everybody else the next time you set foot inside? You pull over on the side of the road and force yourself to focus. Phantom is whining, so you lift her out of the backseat and cuddle her in your lap, trying to think rationally. It’s hard to do when your heart is beating this hard.

You really don’t want to think of this thing with your ghost as a relationship, but it doesn’t feel like having a roommate. Roommates don’t hang out in the bathroom while you’re showering, or watch you when you least expect it. If you’re comparing it to a relationship, you haven’t had many good ones. When you think of your last relationship, all you feel is trapped and scared. You felt safe enough with the ghost until it – until he got mad. But he wasn’t mad at you, was he? Or if he was, he didn’t hurt you. He wiped out the mirror and vanished. By the time you stepped back, the cold spot was all that was left. All you did was go back to the status quo.

You stroke Phantom’s ears, taking deep breaths. You like your house, and so does your dog. The ghost that lives in your house hasn’t hurt you, even if it’s supposed to be haunting you, and the one time you felt truly unsafe, the ghost protected you. The ghost told you his name when you asked him. It’s okay. You can go home. You and Tomura could probably stand to talk a little more, anyway. Roommates are supposed to set up ground rules.

By the time you’re parked in the driveway, your heart rate’s slowed down, and Phantom is wagging her tail and whining to be let out of the car. She races inside as soon as you open the door, and you follow her in a little more cautiously. “Tomura?” you call out, and that sense of being watched descends on you again. It doesn’t feel malevolent, exactly, but it feels heavier than before. “Uh, can we talk?”

There’s no response. Maybe he can only talk through the mirror. You lock your front door behind yourself and head upstairs to the bathroom. It kills you to think of what your water bill is going to look like, but you switch on the water anyway, waiting as the steam fills the room and the mirror fogs over. You can tell Tomura is there. When you twist around to look behind you, you can even see him. “Tomura,” you say, and his lips curve upwards slightly. “Are you mad at me?”

You hate yourself for the question. He shakes his head, but you feel the pressure of his gaze on you again, heavier than before. “If you’re not mad at me, why won’t you talk to me?”

Tomura shakes his head again. Maybe he is mad at you, or punishing you, and he doesn’t want to admit it. There’s nothing you’ve ever heard about ghosts that says they can’t lie, and the thought that something you don’t understand is angry at you for reasons it won’t explain sets off an ugly twist of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You’re not going to beg for a response, but you’re not going to back down, either. You sit in the steam until it dissipates and Tomura vanishes from view.

Later, you find a huge dead spider in the corner of the bathroom. Maybe ghosts can lie after all – they can, and they do, and they will.

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and now that you know exactly what’s wrong with it, an anxiety that’s got nothing to do with the haunted nature of your house fills the pit of your stomach. You know Tomura’s here, and now you know the difference between the way a room feels when he’s in it and the way it feels when it’s empty. He shadows you, sometimes into places he shouldn’t – the bathroom, for instance. Sometimes his presence in the corner of your bedroom keeps you up at night, long past when you needed to fall asleep for work. The situation’s not sustainable. You have a feeling that some of it could be fixed if you could just talk to Tomura, but he’s not talking to you. Asshole.

You try to spend as much time outside the house as possible, even though you know his influence stretches into the yard and probably stops at the fence. Your yard’s never looked so nice, and neither has your garden – the front garden, or the back garden. And it’s a good thing you’re spending so much time out there, too. The yard wants to be full of weeds and mushrooms, all of them constantly encroaching on your fragile plants. You spend all your time in the yard, never on the back porch. Which means that when you do go up on the back porch, looking for a tool you stashed there sometime this spring, the presence of the massive hornets’ nest takes you completely by surprised.

In the time it takes you to notice and register the problem, you’re stung twice, and you lurch backwards off the porch, missing the last step and falling on your ass. You swear, clutching your hand close to your chest as you stare in dismay at your newest house-related catastrophe. The nest is huge. You can’t leave it there – what if Phantom gets stung? You can’t afford an exterminator, either, and your solitary can of bug spray isn’t going to do the job. You back away from the porch, further into the yard, and try to come up with a plan.

Finally, you settle on something that feels sort of likely to work. You’ll get a garbage can, put it under the nest, and knock the nest down into it. Then you’ll slam the lid shut and leave the little creeps in there to starve. Or you’ll roll the trash can into the river and drown them. Whatever it takes. You nurse your hand for another moment, wishing you hadn’t been stung, then set off in search of supplies.

It takes you a while to find something you can use to knock the nest down from a sort of safe distance, and another little while to put on a few layers of clothes that should hopefully be hard to sting through. You remind yourself that this is a part of home ownership, and that you’d still rather do this than fight with a roommate about doing the dishes. Then you steel yourself and head onto the back porch to set your trap.

But when you get there, the nest is gone, and something in its place. Tomura, your ghost, looking way too solid and way too real, with a solitary hornet pinned by its wings between his fingers. As you watch, it disintegrates into ash, drifting down to join a larger pile of ash on the porch.

“Um,” you say, like an idiot, and Tomura looks up at you. “I was going to get that.”

“I haven’t not been talking to you,” Tomura says, and a jolt runs through you. He can talk. His voice is raspy in a way that makes you want to beg him to clear his throat or drink some water. “I can’t influence this world without life-force. And I can’t get it from you or the dog.”

You piece it together slowly. He has to take power from somewhere to materialize, to touch things, to talk. “Why not?”

Tomura gives you a look like you’re the dumbest person on the planet. You wonder how many times you’ve gotten a look like that and didn’t see it. “You’d die,” he says. “My house would be empty.”

“And you don’t want it to be empty,” you surmise. “Then why do you scare everybody away?”

Tomura’s scarred mouth twists into a scowl. “You left,” he snaps. “You can’t leave.”

“Like hell I can’t,” you say. “I came back, didn’t I? I needed time to think. Your little temper tantrum with the mirror –”

“I couldn’t answer. I ran out of time.” Tomura kicks through the pile of ash, scattering it. “That spider wasn’t enough. No matter how slow I drained it.”

“So that’s why it was in one piece,” you say. Tomura nods shortly. “You drained the hornets faster, though. Does that work better?”

“I guess.” Tomura scratches at the side of his neck. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

Something occurs to you. “You don’t know how this works, do you?”

“I know how it works. Shut up.” Tomura’s face is flushing unevenly. He raises his hands, touches it. “What is this? What’s happening to me?”

“I think you’re embarrassed,” you say. “You’re blushing.”

“No I’m not.” Tomura scratches harder at his neck. “You can’t leave.”

You wish he’d stop scratching. It looks like it hurts. “I can leave if I want to,” you say. “If you don’t want me to leave, you need to respect my rules.”

“Your rules?” Tomura scoffs. “It’s my house.”

“And I can leave whenever I want to,” you say. “Rule number one: Stay out of the bathroom when I’m in there.”

“It was fine before.”

“It wasn’t. I just didn’t know about it,” you say. “Now that I do, I’m still not fine with it, and I want you to stop. Same with watching me at night.”

“You sleep fine.”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “Stop.”

Tomura’s expression takes on a stubborn cast. “What, so it’s fine when he does it but not when I do?”

“What?” you say blankly. A chill runs down your spine, one that’s got nothing to do with the fact that there’s a ghost on your back porch. “Has someone else been in here?”

“No.” Tomura scoffs again. “Nobody comes in unless I let them.”

“Then who’s he?”

“The one in those movies you watched. He hangs out in that person’s bedroom all night and he doesn’t get in trouble.”

It clicks for you. “You mean in Twilight?” you repeat incredulously. “That’s not good, either. She’s just too dumb to know it’s bad. No hanging out in my room at night. Or I leave.”

“You’ll leave,” Tomura repeats. “And go where?”

He’s right, but you’re not going to let him know just how stuck you are. “Anywhere,” you say. “I’m pretty sure you can’t follow me past the fences.”

“Who cares about what’s out there? I’ve got this.” Tomura gestures around at the house – gestures with a hand that’s starting to go transparent. “No. No, not yet. Damn it!”

“Hey,” you say, alarmed. “If you need energy to materialize and talk, I’ve got tons of weeds and mushrooms in the yard that you can kill. Or some of the blackberry bushes by the fence. There’s ways for us to talk without you killing me or Phantom.”

And without him getting mad. It scares you a little bit when he gets mad. “I have to go,” you say. His expression, what you can see of it, is unhappy. “I have to pick up some stuff to treat the stings I got, but I’ll be back later. We can talk more then.”

He’s faded almost entirely now. All that’s left is his voice, still so raspy. “You’ll come back.”

“I’ll come back,” you promise. “I wouldn’t leave Phantom, and she likes you.”

You think you see him smile again, but it’s gone a moment later, along with the rest of him. It takes all your self-control not to run.

You go to the store, like you said you would. The stings really do hurt. And while you’re there, you think over your situation with Tomura. Seeing him looking so – alive – was weird. He has blueish-grey hair and red eyes and pale skin that looks dry and easily cracked. You find yourself hesitating over an extra bottle of the hand lotion you use when your eczema acts up and shake your head at the ridiculousness of the thought. He doesn’t need hand cream. He’s a ghost.

A ghost, and you were apparently the last one in the neighborhood to know about him. All those expectant looks from everybody else make sense, sort of. The only thing that doesn’t add up is Himiko’s reaction to the house. Tomura wasn’t visible when she stepped into the yard, but she acted like she could see him, and talk to him. Twelve is a little old for playing pretend. What if she could see him? What do she and her older brother know? As you browse for antihistamine cream, you decide you need to find out.

When you get back to your neighborhood, you park your car at the top of the street, out of sight of your house. Then you head down to the street to the pink house where Jin and Himiko live and knock on the door. When that doesn’t work, you ring the doorbell, and Jin opens it wearing tube socks and a pair of boxer shorts, looking like he just rolled out of bed. “Huh?”

“Sorry,” you say. “I, um –”

Understanding flashes across Jin’s face. “You saw him, huh?” he asks, and you nod wordlessly. “Finally! Stay here, we’re going on a field trip!”

He leaves the door open, vanishes into the recesses of the house, and re-emerges a minute and a half later, fully dressed. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“Where are we going?”

“Up the street. You got questions. Old man Aizawa’s got answers.”

You’re not sure which house is Aizawa’s, or who Aizawa even is. But you want answers, so you follow Jin. You pass the orange house where Spinner lives on the way. Spinner is on the front porch, fixing his skateboard, and he looks up as you pass by. “Where are you two going?”

“Aizawa’s,” Jin says. He nods at you. “She saw him.”

“No shit,” Spinner says. “What did he do?”

“Um –”

“You gotta tell us,” Jin says. “Was it pervy?”

There’s no way you’re saying that your ghost likes to hang out in the bathroom while you’re in there and your bedroom at night. “He killed a hornets’ nest after two of them stung me.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Huh,” Jin says. “Damn. I owe Keigo ¥3000.”

“You owe me ¥4500,” Spinner says. He sets down his skateboard and stands up. “I’m coming with you. Let’s go see Aizawa.”

Aizawa, it turns out, lives in the house at the top of the street where Shinsou lives. Is Aizawa one of Shinsou’s dad? Spinner hangs back while Jin marches up to the door and bangs on it repeatedly, with you cringing and trying to shush him the entire time. The door opens with maybe thirty seconds of knocking, revealing a dark-haired man with an eyepatch who looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week. “What?” he barks.

“She saw it,” Jin says, pointing at you. Understanding crosses his face, the same as it did with Jin. “She has questions.”

“Which you can’t answer because?”

“Wrong kind of ghost, my man!” Jin crows, like he’s the announcer on a game show. Then he lowers his voice. “She’s got one like yours.”

“Like whose?” you demand. You stare hard at Aizawa, who looks back, expressionless. “You have a ghost in your house?”

“He’s got two ghosts,” Spinner says.

Aizawa shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

That makes no sense to you, which is frustrating, since Jin and Spinner seem to think it’s totally reasonable. You feel tears spring to your eyes and you look away, embarrassed. You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not stupid. “Look, I didn’t want to come here,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “I just went to ask Jin and he dragged me here. I don’t need – ”

“Miss?” A small, squeaky voice emanates from the doorway, and you look back to find a small girl peering out at you from behind Aizawa’s legs. She has greyish hair and red eyes, like Tomura does. “Why are you crying?”

You look blankly at her, and she looks back. A moment later, her pupils open and shut vertically, just like Himiko’s did. And that’s when it clicks into place. You look from the little girl to Jin and back to Aizawa. In the time since you looked away, Aizawa’s gone from expressionless to looking like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in decades. “You’d better come inside.”

The inside of Aizawa’s house – Shinsou’s house, too, you realize when you see the framed photos – is bright and somewhat cluttered. There are kids’ toys all over the floor and the walls are painted brightly. There’s an upright piano with a guitar balanced on top of it and a record player wedged into one corner of the room. Aizawa navigates through the chaos, limping slightly, while the little girl – the ghost? – scrambles over everything with ease. You follow Aizawa through the living room and into the kitchen, Spinner and Jin trailing after you. Aizawa sits at the kitchen table. You sit down across from him. And then it’s quiet. “Um –”

“Start at the beginning,” Aizawa says. “What happened?”

You don’t know what counts as the beginning, but once you start talking, it all spills out – the coyote, the hornets, the bad vibes, the sudden appearances and the temper tantrums and the whole voyeuristic thing you can’t figure out. That last starts an argument between Jin and Spinner about whether it counts as pervy behavior if the ghost isn’t getting off on it, and whether or not the ghost is actually getting off on it, and how to tell whether the ghost is actually getting off on it, which continues until Aizawa tells them to shut up. “Don’t say shut up,” the little girl instructs. She’s shown you three or four of her toys so far, and you’ve managed to muster some kind of positive response to all of them. “It’s not nice. Papa says.”

“Papa’s the loudest person on the planet. Of course he says that.” Aizawa turns a glare on Jin and Spinner. “I don’t want to hear another word about that while Eri’s in the room.”

“I know all about that,” Eri says impatiently. “Humans do all kinds of weird things with their bodies when they’re alone. Humans are gross.”

“You’re human now,” Aizawa tells her. Eri pouts. You just stare. “The longer you think it’s gross, the happier I’ll be. Go work on that picture you were drawing for Hitoshi.”

“I don’t want to,” Eri protests. “I want to hear about him. He’s why Papa said we had to move here!”

“Wait, what?” You feel like you’re spending a lot of time staring at people today, but you can’t help it. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Enough to fill several books. You’ll be going home with some required reading,” Aizawa says. Spinner and Jin groan, but weirdly enough, it makes you feel better. There are books to read. Someone knows more about this than you do. “But there’s context you’re unaware of. Your house contains a very powerful ghost. The fact that your ghost is apparently incompetent at haunting does not change its strength. The psychic vibrations it emits are powerful enough to cloak this entire neighborhood. And to draw others to it.”

Your stomach lurches. “What do you mean?”

“This neighborhood is full of ghosts,” Aizawa says. “Former ghosts.”

“What do you mean, former ghosts? Ghosts are dead people. They can’t come back to life.”

“Ghosts were never people,” Spinner says. “They’re, like – wraiths. Spirits. They don’t come from here. They come from the world between this one and the next one. They’re not people, but they can become people. That’s what Magne did.”

“And Himiko,” Jin adds.

“And me!” Eri chimes in.

You sit there with that for a second, stunned. “Is there anybody in this neighborhood who didn’t use to be a ghost?”

“Yes,” Aizawa says, “but every house in this neighborhood has at least one. Forget everything you think you know about ghosts and hauntings. We’ll start at the beginning.”

[tobiasdrake]

Oh, and then we have to deal with the fallout of the bad motive.

So, that First Blood Perk. Obviously the game wasn't going to let that actually be a thing, because it would deprive us of a core feature of the games: the Class Trial.

Honestly, I might have more respect for the game's whole "Rise up against Danganronpa itself!" thing if they had. If they actually let the killer claim the First Blood Perk and walk. Fuck you, no fun Class Trial will be had here!

That would be aggravating. But it would be aggravating in a way that feels truly resonant with the game's ultimate goal of tearing down Danganronpa brick by brick. The game is later going to say that the fandom is part of the problem and appeal to them to become part of the solution. So. Yeah. It does piss you off that we never got to play the fun trial game, doesn't it? Maybe you should think about that.

(Though I still wouldn't want the killer to actually be Kaede, especially with the crime scene clearly showing that she couldn't have done it. I'm not actually that impressed by "Your PC is the Blackened" after we already did "Your PC is the Mastermind" one game ago.)

But no. You knew they were going to cop out. I knew they were going to cop out. Despite insisting repeatedly at the end that they are making an unsatisfying Danganronpa experience on purpose, they are still trying to do that as a satisfying Danganronpa experience so they wouldn't dare deprive us of such an important feature.

So how do they cop out? Is it because the killer themselves don't know they're the killer and thus can't claim the perk? Could it be that the killer wants to weaponize the Killing Game to kill us all, like Hina and Nagito have tried in the past?

Nope. The killer decides she wants to get caught and die so that Shuichi can develop and grow as a character. That's it. That's the reason.

This is how Kodaka, recognizing that what he's about to do is a pretty shitty thing to do to an audience that he's spent time getting hyped for this character, tries to grease the wheels. It's not technically a Fridging because she wanted to die! She chose to sacrifice herself on the altar of Shuichi's growth! She climbed into the refrigerator and slit her own throat! That was her choice! So you can't be mad about it! She had complete agency over the reduction of her character to a footnote in the real protagonist Shuichi's personal journey! I didn't do it! SHE did it!

Whether these are valid reasons that make it Okay, Actually or if they're just overcompensating paper-thin excuses to justify an incredibly mean-spirited prank, that's up to you. I think you know where I fall on that dichotomy.

What's especially weird about the First Blood Perk is that it makes sense in retrospect. Trying to cancel the Class Trial makes perfect sense as something Tsumugi might do to conceal her own involvement in Rantaro's death and role as the true culprit. But it was offered well before any plans for killing were ever even a teensy-tiny thought in the back of anyone's minds.

So either Tsumugi is secretly an omniscient 4-D chess predictive grandmaster who knows every single thought that will ever pass through the minds of every single person in every single second of every single day only pretending to be an incompetent hack, or this was pure serendipitous coincidence. Something that seems complex and compelling but is actually a hollow, vacuous shell devoid of any real meaning.

Which is true? Eh, whichever you want to be true. The game's actually proud of itself for never committing to its own story, so there is no actual truth behind anything that happens. Even the reality show stuff ends on "But what if THAT was another lie and the REAL REAL real plot has never been revealed!? I'M SO CLEVER."

"This seems meaningful but actually it doesn't really fit quite right and in fact it might just be clever-sounding nonsense the more I think about it" is basically V3 in a nutshell.

[melis-writes]

Why you don’t like Apollonia? (I get this vibe from u, but correct me if I’m wrong)

You're 100% correct about the vibes. 🤣🤣 I don't like Apollonia at all, whatsoever and it's because the Godfather fandom completely ruined her character for me. 🥰

It's not just the new Godfather enjoyers, like gen z or millennials but also the boomers. Apollonia is sadly a vessel for misogyny in the Godfather from Apollonia stans alone. I can't look past it even if I tried; I get Apollonia stans commenting nasty shit on my gifsets of Kay (that's how annoying + bothered they are) and trying to start discourse over any post that highlights a miniscule positive thing about Kay Adams.

It's disgusting to see how Apollonia is glorified for being the quiet, submissive and obedient housewife. She's what Michael "needs" and is the "perfect wife" and the ones that put Apollonia on a pedestal like this are misogynists, vehemently sprout the nastiest shit about Kay and women like Kay that you'll ever hear, talk about how Apollonia could have "changed" and "fixed" Michael (dude is beyond redemption and is almost a sociopath) and could have birthed him "lots of babies". Literally, that's all Apollonia is "known" for and loved for, it's pathetically sad. The bar really is in hell.

So while Apollonia is praised for all of these hypothetical scenarios, Kay and women like Kay are shit on, ridiculed and picked apart to pieces. It's disgusting and whether it's a boomer enjoyer or someone my age, they'll be saying the exact same shit like it's scripted or clockwork or something about Apollonia every single time.

Apollonia's young age is also glorified even though she's a minor/child, and don't even get me started on the scene of her undressing in front of Michael--I know it's a little off topic and more about Simonetta as an actress but the fact that there's grown ass men fawning over a minor's breasts makes me want to actually vomit.

Putting aside the misogynistic culture some Godfather fans have placed upon Apollonia here, I don't like the character itself. To me, it's obvious she was a filler, empty character Mario Puzo wrote and used to develop Michael's character development because she's literally never mentioned again unless you want to count Michael confessing to Kay he "slept with someone" in the book while he was abroad.

Apollonia was never in love with Michael and Michael wasn't in love with her. Apollonia's father got giddy at the idea of his daughter's beauty bringing in a rich, powerful and influential man who was the son of a Vito Corleone. Nobody cared what else Michael had to offer the Vitelli family besides reputation, wealth and physical protection. Nothing even mentions if anyone cared how Michael would treat Apollonia but oh boy, Michael showed it well. He literally refused to let her leave home for a week and all he did was have sex with her over and over again. And every single time, Apollonia would just get up, shower, fuck off and do something and Michael would just lay there. She would just do whatever he wanted and yet somehow, the Godfather fandom is screaming "true love" and "soulmate" when it's literally just Michael being horny. I need y'all to understand this man was thinking with his dick only.

I don't care who likes/stans Apollonia, all I want is for people to be respectful about the whole Apollonia and Kay thing. If Apollonia's as amazing as some people claim, then I'd sure hope she can brought up without the mention of Michael being in a relationship with her and without dissing Kay in the same sentence (IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGE EDITION).

Apollonia and the whole Sicily arc is so far gone and damaged to me that I just skip that scene when watching the movie and pretend it didn't happen because of all the bullshit that went out in the fandom and is still ongoing today. 😐

[tokageh]

and yūji said i love you? what then 🙂‍↕️

i love you, he says, and megumi's heart does two things simultaneously. it swells. and it breaks. he says i love you, but he only knows those words to be a curse.

he thinks of tsumiki: warm hands, stitching threadbare socks when they became too worn down for him to wear anymore. always adorned with a smile even when megumi spat at her with venom on his tongue. he thinks fondly of the times she would read to him, or question how his day went, or scold him for getting himself into another tussle at school. these memories become clouded, dark, grey, stormy, when he remembers standing vigil at her bedside. he stood, counting the number of beeps between the minutes from all the machines hooked into her. only yesterday she had been chattering away happily at him over breakfast, gossiping about nonsense he had been so flippantly ignoring. he remembers doctors and nurses and their pitying stares. good for nothing. them, and the love in his chest.

he thinks of his mother: or, more to the point, the absence of her in his life. he likes to pretend he can remember her. a sweet scent of patchouli and jasmine. he thinks of all the memories he pretended to make with her. showing off scribbled drawings to an empty room. pretending to hear her praise. a soothing voice to lull him back to sleep as his small body cradled against her chest. he thinks of all the love he tried to fill into that mother-shaped hole, but it was insatiable. no matter how much he poured into it, the bottom never came. what was left behind was the heart of a boy, battered and bruised and never quite the same again.

he thinks of gojo, and shoko, and kugisaki. he thinks of all their unconditional love.

and now, he looks at yūji. sweet yūji. the boy who eats curses. who threw himself into harm's way again, and again, and again, for the love that fills and overflows out of him for all the people he cares about. his strength shone like the sun the very first day they met, and cut through the smoky haze that had settled over megumi's life. he thought he had lost it, when it had been washed away in the fallen rain with yūji's blood outside the eishu detention centre. megumi had mourned him, over and over, every night into his pillow with tear-soaked cheeks. he thought it had happened again. that love had once again been cursed by his existence. that another good person had died because they placed that love into him.

but he's still here. flesh and blood and bones. a heart still in his chest that is bravely offered for megumi to take.

‟ itadori --- ” megumi catches himself. they are well past the need for such formalities. he can feel his pulse slamming against the base of his throat, hummingbird wings catching in his throat. he thinks being dragged to movie theatres, of sharing cold drinks on hot summer days between training. he thinks of nights spent, whispering to each other secrets they wouldn't tell anyone else. he thinks of everything he wants to share in this life with him. it is a careful hand that reaches out and places itself on the space between yūji's ribs. a place that had been torn asunder, a place megumi will never forget. ‟ yūji ... ”

between the words there is the sharp knife of a plea. don't leave me again. promise me this doesn't mean you're going to die.

‟ i love you, too. ”

[regarding-stories]

Deeply manipulative, slightly flawed: Your Lie In April

Well, I got into this one expecting more of a rom-com vibe. (Thanks for nothing, people writing those synopses.) Underneath the veneer of a romantic and funny start ticks away a very calculated machine delivering hurt and pain like clockwork. None of this is by accident.

In fact, "Your Lie In April" is a good example of a carefully crafted story that executes its basic idea to finish, and if I had to fault it for something it's the very fact of how much manipulation it employs. It became hard to ignore towards the end. Ironically it raises the same idea of craft versus art that the story itself also tries to discuss (and where it is most flawed, albeit to not to a big degree.)

This story is almost a decade old, so expect massive spoilers.

The Machine That Grinds (And Transforms)

If you view "Your Lie" from its last episode backwards, you will get the most honest view of how it is designed. In her posthumous letter to the protagonist our heroine explains why she did what she did, and why she needed to do it that way. But in principle she simply describes the basic setup by which the original author put the pieces on the board, how he immobilized them to create the situation to begin with, and how the heroine decides to interact with the situation in a way that she sees as the only one but which creates more tragedy down the road.

The basic setup is that our protagonist is horribly traumatized by child abuse, the death of his mother, and the guilt he feels over it induced by her warped upbringing. Our heroine is in love with him due to... reasons (more on this later)... but is dying. Her death due to "soap opera disease" (thanks, TV Tropes) is conveniently forestalled for several years while our MC agonizes in a personal hell. He's tight with his childhood buddies, and the girl one is the classical "childhood friend" who's in love with him (but doesn't realize yet).

Through her decision to make most out of her (remaining) life she begins a transformation in him away from his pained relationship with music to a joyous one, and from mere execution to art. But in order to do so she has to navigate past the childhood friend, hide her feelings, and get close to him. So she lies about her feelings (which are eventually evident even to her dim chosen boyfriend) and the only one she convinces is the MC. (Because the story needs to work.)

From this point on the cast's dynamic is mostly encased in amber - MC loves heroine, but thinks it's unrequited; heroine loves MC but needs the childhood friend's help to get even past the gate, so she pretends to love his buddy; childhood friend gets to watch while her love interest's heart is filled with another person; and even dim buddy gets to live with the feeling that he lost someone special which he truly never had.

We watch on as the MC moves from the original trauma to the next trauma, all the while evolving from a virtuoso to an actual artist. While this is happening, nobody gets any real satisfaction, not even temporarily (at least not truly). The best you can get in this show is being held while you cry. We see the tragedy of two lives cut short, the tragedy of a mother who can't raise her child or deal with her imminent death, the tragedy of a girl who can only do so much before her time runs out and is blocked from it from all sides. We see how the MC hurts, we see how people around him hurt.

Truth to be told, when the show is funny, it's damn funny. But it charms you like a disaster movie. It will kill the pooch from the beginning in the end. And its design is merciless. It never truly resolves any of the amber it casts each character in - unless you count playing a concert with what might be the spirit of another person departing to the afterlife.

In the end, all the other characters become background to the MC's transformation. The heroine's transformation happened off-screen and is told in flashback.

But all of this is well-executed. You don't feel like there are major gaps in the narrative, the logic is stringent though forced, but it holds surprisingly well before it's undone. But what it left me with was the feeling of having been manipulated by intent. This is the part that the audience shouldn't catch on to be truly great.

Here the show falls (somewhat) flat because it doesn't dare to be honest before it's too late, and in my book that was the straw that broke the camel's back. You can withhold only so much in the end before it strains things too much.

Machinations and the Living Metronome

I said "machine" above and I mean it. The story takes all the choices that are convenient for its dramatic-tragedic goal. It cannot let the heroine live past her dramatic usefulness, especially since it set up conditions that indicate that being cut off from making music is worse than death.

In this sense the heroine dies for the story's sake, and this reduces her from character to storytelling device in the end. In general, however, the story manages to brings its cast alive quite well, it's just that the cast is chained to rowing benches of a sinking galley.

What flies under the radar is that the inciting incidents of this story do not work. Several of the characters in the story (all the musicians) are drawn into the MC's wake by his performance. Except his performance is robotic and perfect because it's the result of drill. If that was what touched humans, we would have completely replaced orchestras and solo performances with MIDI sequencers. (We haven't.)

While a good part of the series tries to tell us that carrying emotion and expressing an idea is the true art (and not skill), all the people in the show have been swayed by the protagonist's performances when he had nothing but skill. Doesn't work. And yet this is the reason why they either fall in love with music, with him, or both. He is supposedly a catalyst for all of them, but in his own story he has not yet been transmuted.

We could assume that he had always a hint of genius about him, but that would be a story-telling cop-out. While it's not binary, either-or, he fails to impress a lot of people beyond pure clinical skill. A very interesting take came again from TV Tropes: His mom probably taught him perfection on the skill side because the time was too short to instill the art side which could come later.

Don't pull that thread or it all unravels.

While I can see how sticking to the score can be important in competitions, score is a very incomplete thing. It lists timing, pitch, and duration. Everything else is annotated in. It's a shorthand that by itself might be too little to deliver a touching performance for a piece with depth. It cannot tell you truly how hard or soft to play each note, even if it can demonstrate emphasis. This is where the performer comes in.

But while this requires skill to deliver it, skill cannot tell you what to do here. It is your understanding of a piece that delivers this, and this understanding can only be hinted at by the score. And hence the journey of classical music never ends.

The show itself tries to make a similar point, but ironically completely ignores it when it's convenient for its own setup. This is something I felt while watching it - why are they all so enchanted by his playing when he's a slave to the score? (And lacks the maturity to understand the piece.) And if the score does not convey the piece completely, what did they see in him?

The same is true for the story itself, but in reverse. It never deviates from the rails the author sets. It's unwilling to go for anything but maximum drama in the end, and by letting the convenient define the ending and, if in doubt, the characters, it loses some of its humanity in its attempt to leave the biggest impression.

Don't get me wrong, it's good and expertly crafted. The author telegraphs all his intentions, and I knew by episode 4 how it would end. I just didn't know the details. There are no truly serious flaws in its storytelling, and it trounces a lot of other shows in terms of consistency, characters, and storytelling. So why am I griping?

Because even the sendoff the story gives to heroine loses some of its glory because it's so deliberate and calculated. She had to die there. Him seeing her in his vision does not feel like mercy or grace, but leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Your mileage may vary.

I mean, look at it. Look at the childhood friend after the heroine's revelation. Even that last scene is designed to tell us "If you love that person, prepare to hurt for a long time." There's no acknowledgment for her. Because there's no room for true mercy. The story has a degree of human warmth, but it's tied to tragedy like an addiction.

Till the very end.

[jungkxook]

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad. 

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?” 

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly. 

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you. 

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work. 

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[widow-maximov]

Whole again

Pairing: Wanda x Fem Reader, Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, angst, fluff

Summary: Y/n never had an easy life in every aspect of life, finding love again but being betrayed is the worse feeling...

Word count: 4.7K

Tag-list: @diaryoflife

(If you want to join my tag list, click here and enjoy my future posts :3)

⸻⸻⋙🗲⋘⸻⸻

Life couldn't be better at the moment, in your whole life you have always been pushed, not only by the Avengers but by your parents are well.

They always wanted the best for you and you did the best you could but it never was enough so you simply moved away from them when you turned 18, it was hard living alone, working somewhere that only paid for your rent and bills but never left you enough for food.

When you joined the Avengers, you instantly felt the difference here, food was always here and you never had to worry about not having enough. Everyone was accepting, especially Wanda.

The two of you got along quite quickly, she shared some interest you did and visa versa.

It was perfect, she always listened to you and reassured you that you always did your best, it was amazing being with Wanda. You felt safe around her and she always held you with so much love that it made you feel useful.

You loved her and each day spent with her, made you fall for the witch deeper, little did you know she did as well. She loved listening to you talk about your childhood, and how bravely you would overcome struggles.

She loved everything about you, from the way you would stick your tongue out when you couldn't get something right to little snorting that came out when you were very tired.

She adored you in secret and you did the same, you were always amazed by her powers, the way she would always find new ways to improve them or find out more about them. The way she would pay to every detail of every mission you told her.

The questioning that followed after, made your heart melt at how much she cared. She always wanted to be near you and hold you tight in her arms, this only worsen when the two of you have gotten together.

The dates would be amazing, she was really romantic and you would be hopelessly in love with everything she did for you. You would shower her with gifts and always be there for her whenever she had a rough night.

For some people being with one person for a long time is boring but for you it wasn't. You felt that you were always learning new things about Wanda, from the way she would tilt her head to the side slightly when you made a teasing comment.

~~~~~

Sitting in a meeting full with your teammates and unable to contain your desires is the worse feeling. Your powers are similar to Wanda's but only with the telekinesis part, the rest you just have to reply on your fighting skills.

You looked over to Wanda who was opposite you, she was too focused on what the meeting was about, rather than looking at you. You looked down at the papers in front of you and smirked, as you gotten inside her head and spoke.

"Would you like to do this?" You asked as you showed her an image of Wanda being pressed against the wall and your face pressed against her core.

She looked at you as soon as that image disappeared with wide eyes "or this?" You showed her another image, a lot more filthier than the one before.

When she came out of it, you could sense the confusion and the lust coming off her "We are in the middle of a meeting!" Her voice found itself in your head.

You smirked slightly at her and spoke back "So?"

"So? How can you expect me to concentrate on what they are talking about"

The way your eyes darken as you looked at her lips "I don't, I want you to focus on me and the way you'll be a mess after"

Her head tilted to the side with a small smirk across her face as she looked away from you and at the person who was at the front. You looked around and no one even noticed that the two of you had a whole ass conversation in your head.

~~~~~

To the way she would hide her face in the crook of your neck when she was embarrassed.

~~~~~

It has been a month since Wanda went on a mission, she was suppose to come back today, they were on a stake out to watch a hydra base, it was a successful mission but the only drawback was the fact that she was away for so long.

You kept yourself occupied and that was mainly with missions that required a lot of brainstorming, so when you heard that Wanda was coming back, you decided to prepare something for her.

You prepared everything for a warm bath and even went out of the way to get her favourite chocolate that she always loves to eat, along with that, nice dinner so after she is done she can eat proper food.

You sent her a message saying to shower and meet you in the room the both of you accidently found, that practically no one visited, obviously there was a little note with your clothes that she always loved wearing.

She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms, but agreed to your message because it doesn't matter where she falls asleep as long as it is next to you she was more than happy.

When she walked in to all of the things you did for her, she was blooming with happiness, she held her hands close to her chest as a smile spread across her. She went through everything you listed in the note, and when she made it to the room, it was something she wouldn't expect.

You might not have been the best at showing your love but you learnt and tried your best, so you stood there with everything prepared for her and the way her heart would beat so fast just at the sight of you surrounded by the little lights.

She walked over to you as she took a proper look this time at the things inside, you smiled as you opened your arms for her and she took the hug without hesitation, she pulled away and without letting you say anything, she kissed you.

At the contact of your lips, a small moan escaped her mouth, causing you to raise your eyebrows at her and pulling away "Did you just... moan?"

Her cheeks turned a red colour so fast, she manged to giggle and hide her face in the crook of your neck "Shut up, it has been a month.."

You laughed and smiled as you tighten your embrace around her and allowed yourself to enjoy this.

~~~~~

But that all changed.. The day Vision was introduced to the team, he was connected to her by the stone the way you would never be connected, the way she would always spend her time with him instead of you.

The way she would listen to his story and never ask about yours, always avoiding you and your way of showing her your love, she would scold you for touching her, even if that was simply walking past her and your shoulders would brush.

It was difficult keeping this from the team, they loved you, like literally adored you, you always were the one to check up on everyone who went out on a mission. If anyone was injured even a little scratch you would always offer to help them in any way they want.

Everyone appreciated you and when they found out you found someone who claimed to love you in a different way they did... They were excited and happy for you, which meant they would always be up your business and Wanda's.

They grown to love Wanda as well, she was harmless and shy but you wouldn't want to be on her bad side, though some don't really care whether she was powerful, they would easily knock her out.

Today was movie night, the whole team sat on the huge couch Natasha on your left whilst your right side was empty, that would be Wanda's side, she wasn't here which didn't really concern you.

She was always late or sometimes didn't come but she promised to be here with you today, yet she wasn't coming. There was a gut feeling that something wasn't right yet you couldn't just walk out as Tony wanted to show you some things during this time so you stayed.

You tried your best to pay attention but it failed so when the movie was over, you stood up quickly and made your way to find Wanda, you rounded the corner and when you gotten closer to your shared bedroom, the noises only gotten louder you gulped as you opened the door carefully.

It was like a horror movie, you opening the door as if there would be a monster behind it, but this was much worse than any monster. If heartbreak had a sound, you would be definitely heard. You stood there taking in what is in front of you, Wanda and Vision in the bed you shared with Wanda before.

He was on top of her and she was a mess riddled with pleasure, it doesn't take any idiot to understand what they were doing, with so much pain in your heart, you walked out of that room and walked back to your room.

The stiffness in your walking was obvious that you was hurt, that's how anyone who knew you for a long time would know you were hurt. You knew this was the end of your relationship with Wanda..

The worse part is that this has happened before, not with Wanda but with someone else you dated, Wanda promised you that she would never do anything like that when you opened up to her.

You yet again failed your own promise, the promise that you would never let anyone in but yet that witch did something to you and you fell for her.

And here you are, sitting against the door as you muffle your sobs with your hands, you were so glad to have picked a room far away from the others so no one could hear you.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

You seemed to create a schedule to be out of the way of everyone, making sure no one saw you or even tried to bother you but you did clash with someone eventually and the way you would pretend, made no one question if you were hurt or not.

No one would notice, they just thought it was you being you. Good that you had a habit of avoiding people from time to time when things were overwhelming so no one questioned it.

You thought no one noticed your strange behaviour but you were wrong, Natasha did. She was a spy after all so analysing people was like walking, easy and smooth and she gotten so used to it she forgets she even does it.

She caught on the times you went to the gym where you would spend all of your day, you would avoid everyone including Wanda. You didn't even know she was on a mission for 6 months so your avoiding was pointless, she wouldn't even notice your absence.

You was in the gym, assaulting the punching bag as if it took everything away from you. You punched it with so much energy, you were kind of surprised it didn't come off the ceiling.

Natasha stood there, staring at you as you threw such powerful punches. It was odd how you looked so emotionless when you would practically made the bag look so weak. She did what she thought would make you talk, she walked over as she made herself known with her clearing her throat.

Your looked over your shoulder and relaxed when you noticed it was Natasha "Sorry, did you book today? I thought it was clear for today"

She shook her head as she walked closer towards you "No I didn’t, usually it’s empty..- Actually do you want to spar with me?"

You faced her now as you took a sip of your water and nodded, usually you would just be here alone and no one bothered you but since she was already here, you might as well, the two of you made it inside the ring and took your poses, she was rested and less of a mess than you, you was exhausted from no sleep and constant nightmares so you were no match for her.

With one move, you was down as she pinned you down and hovered above you, you tried with every strength in your body to move from her grip but you had no chance.

"What happened Y/n?" She asked with seriousness in her tone.

You tried your luck again to free yourself "Nothing"

"I can get Wanda to do this for me" She bluntly spoke as she watched your reaction.

Your eyes widen at her words "No, I don't want her here"

Natasha let you go as she sat down next to you but you just laid there, you knew she will question to why suddenly you don't want to be around the witch.

"Why?" Was the only word that came out from the Russian.

You shook your head as you tried to erase the embedded scene "No"

Natasha narrowed her eyes at you "What do you mean no? Why can't Wanda be here Y/n?"

You covered your face with your hand as you took a deep breath, feeling the tears form in your eyes "She cheated"

Natasha's eyes widen at your words, the feeling of range building up, she knew Wanda was suppose to go on a mission today so she will be able to catch her "With who?"

"Vision" You managed to choke out as sobs were threatening to spill out of your mouth.

Natasha felt so angry, the fact that Wanda was capable of doing something so horrible to you and she was so close to getting up and making sure that Wanda gets knocked into the next universe for what she did but when a sob came out of your mouth, she was quick to forget what she would do but quickly pulled herself near you and held you as you cried in her shoulder.

Natasha was your true friend but for Natasha you was more than a friend for her. She was deeply in love with you and when she heard that you are dating Wanda, she was heart broken. She started to slowly distance herself and hoped you would notice but Wanda was occupying your head for you to even notice Natasha missing, well at least that what the redhead thought.

She loved everything about you, from the way your eyes would sparkle at the mention of a new movie that was coming out to how you would drink too much and sing bunch of songs that didn't even make sense.

She loved you but you never felt the same even if she could swear to herself that you did feel something for her but she convinced herself she was just seeing things, she wanted to believe that you would fall for her the way she fell for you but that didn't happen so she had to live with herself and these feelings.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

She took you to your room so you could rest and made her way towards Wanda, she was in your old bedroom acting as if nothing happened, she didn't even care that you wasn't here, actually she was happy you didn't bother her.

Natasha marched inside as she could feel her anger boiling over, and when her gaze met Wanda's she couldn't control herself "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

The way Wanda's eyebrows raised as if she didn't know what the Russian was talking about "Are you okay Natasha?"

"You try to seem so innocent and shy but you are a fucking liar and the worst person in the planet!" Natasha raised her voice as she pointed towards Wanda.

She stood up as she looked at the spy with shock "What the hell are talking about!"

Natasha scoffed "Please, keep pretending but I know what you did with Vision"

The Sokovian's face fell as she heard those words "What do you know?"

The Russian rolled her eyes at the witch "How much you fucked up the only good thing you had in your pathetic life"

"You can't tell Y/n.."

The redheads eye's narrowed "She already knows.."

The gasp wasn't a shocked one but more of a surprised one, why didn't you say anything? She had to find out, so she did what was on her mind but Natasha moved in her direction.

"You won't disturb her, you will go on your mission and leave Y/n alone"

Just as Wanda was going to protest, she was alerted that she had to go, she was the only way this mission would be successful. She barged past Natasha as she left for the mission, in hopes that when she comes back, she will finally talk to you about the subject she should've voiced way before.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

The past 2 months have been hard on you, you tried to not drag Natasha into this but she was there regardless of your attempts. You even somehow ended up sleeping in her room because your nightmares have gotten worse, she reassured you that you were safe.

~~~~~

Natasha couldn't sleep, she decided to go through some work reports, hoping that will make her somehow sleepy and she would be able to finally get some rest.

Her eyes darted up at you and her expression softened at you and the way you was snoring, you passed out on the couch watching a movie so Natasha took you into her room and tucked you into her bed, she decided to grab bottle of water and some more files.

When she walked out, as if her present kept you at bay, your nightmares started to wake you up, the second they got heavy you jumped up so still as your eyes went wide, looking ahead of you slowly registering where you are.

Natasha walked through the door with everything but when she noticed the fear in your eyes, she rushed to you and at her touch you relaxed, the way her strong arms held you as you hugged into her, your breath steadied as Natasha rubbed your back in soothing motions.

Your head rested on her shoulder and wiped the fallen tear from your face, there was silence, for Natasha it was comfortable silence but for you it was embarrassing, she had to witness you in this state.

You unglued yourself from her as you covered your face "I'm sorry you had to witness that"

She shook her head as she gently grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face "You have nothing to be sorry for, красивая (beautiful). This is a normal thing that people experience so don't be sorry"

You looked at her as tears filled your eyes and with a sad smile you spoke "Well then I'm glad it's you who is by my side through this"

Natasha smiled as she pulled you into a hug and the both of you decided to finally sleep, she was your safe haven from nightmares.

~~~~~

When she had her nightmares, you were there even if you were suffering.

~~~~~

Natasha went to bed earlier than usual and you not waking to disturb her as she slept so lightly, you decided to just go back to your room and try sleeping there.

Aside from your nightmares sometimes you was able to sleep through the night without constantly jumping, you tried to do something to occupy your mind, even ended up sitting by the window as you stared out in the stares just in hopes that it would make you sleepy.

You took a deep breath and walked towards the kitchen, you opened the fridge and took the cold water, taking a sip as shivers ran through your body, you turned around and started to walk towards your room again.

You stopped at Natasha's door, pressed your ear against it to listen. Maybe she was awake? but there was no movement so you sighed and slowly opened the door.

Making your way inside, as you see Natasha sitting in the middle of the bed, with her head resting on top her knees, she looked so small and fragile, you placed your water down and quickly made your way to her.

Your arms found themselves around her as she so easily fell into you, her face covered in trails of tears causing unsteady breathes to escape her mouth.

"It's okay Natty.. I'm here" You tried your best to reassure her as you whispered.

She loved your voice and each time it worked to calm her so she just nodded as she let her arms snake around you, gripping onto your shirt.

Your hand played with her hair as your free hand was placed firmly against her so you could tighten your embrace around her "I'm sorry"

You smiled sadly at her as she looked up at you when she spoke "There is nothing to apologise for, I am more than happy to be here for you"

She shook her head "This shouldn't be about me Y/n/n, you are the one with the most painful pain here"

You cupped her face as you stared into her eyes "You are just as important as my pain Natty.. Please don't say that"

A tear rolled down her face, you wiped it with your thumb and kissed her forehead and pulled her into you again "You are important Nat, don't tell yourself otherwise.."

No matter how much you wanted to break down from the pain in your heart, but you kept yourself together for her because in this moment she needs you and you were happy to do that...

~~~~~

Natasha never wanted anything back for what she did for you, she did it because she still very much loved you, she would even jump in front of a speeding car if you told her to, because being away from you pained her more than watching you fall in love with someone else.

After those 2 months you finally gotten a grip on your life, you started to heal and having someone near you only helped you heal faster, Wanda wasn't around but her walking microwave was, he would observe you and what you did.

So far for the past 4 months, you did pretty good, you seem to smile more often than at the start, you started to feel normal again and that was all because of Natasha, she stuck beside you at your worst and you wouldn't want it any other way.

Right now it was one of Tony's parties, you weren't so much in the mood for one but Natasha being here was more than motivating, so you attended.

Wearing one of the dresses you never had the chance to use, with some minimal make up, finally feeling good about yourself, so you made your way towards where the party was held. The first person you searched for in the crowd was Natasha and with ease you located her near the bar.

You made your way towards her as she slid over a drink that she prepared, you eyed the drink "How did you know what I like"

She shrugged as she sipped hers "I'm very observant"

You smiled widely as you took the drink and sipped on it as well, she was watching you, turning her body towards you "How are you?"

The tone she used wasn't something she used with everyone, you knew the meaning behind it "Definitely better now.. What about you?"

She shrugged once again as she looked down "I'm not sure actually"

You placed the drink as you grabbed her hand "It's okay to not know. You know you can talk to me, right?"

She looked up as her eyes locked with yours and she nodded bringing a smile upon your lips "Great, now drink that and let's go dance, before you turn into a grandma"

She raised her eyebrow "Grandma? Are you trying-"

"Sorry! I can't hear you, the music is too loud!" You shouted over her as she shook her head with a playful smile as she drank the rest of her drink.

You was already done with yours so as soon as she placed the glass down, the hand you held from earlier, you pulled towards the dance floor, feeling the burning sensation in your throat as alcohol made it's way into your blood.

Both of you danced for so long until you started to feel sober again, Natasha never left your side since she knew how you were when you drank, a little of alcohol made you so brave that she feared you might accidently punch someone.

You went to the bar alone, Natasha had clear sight of you but she was distracted with dancing as she waited for you. You knew this night was too good to be true, especially when you forgot that Wanda would be back today.

You didn't even notice the witch until she aggressively tapped your shoulder, making your head whip towards her and your eyes widen at her angry face.

"What do you think you're doing?" She questioned you as if you were suppose to be scared.

You rolled your eyes and ignored her as you continued to wait for your drink but she grabbed your shoulder and span you to face her, angering her more.

"What do you want?" You asked so unbothered by her presence.

"When did you start acting like a slut, Y/n?"

You raised your eyebrows at her, the way those words easily slipped out of her mouth "I'm acting like a slut? I am waiting for my drink and you are disturbing me"

She rolled her eyes, she felt her powers pumping inside her veins "You are the only person here, all over all those women"

You looked around to see what women she was talking about "What women? I was just dancing with Nata-" You paused "I don't have to explain myself to you, now leave me alone"

"Yes you do! You definitely need to tell me why you are all over Natasha? Are you sleeping with her?"

It was started to irritate you, she didn't care about you so many months ago and suddenly when things get better, she takes an interest, it's like her life goal is to destroy your happiness.

"You have to be joking right now.." You scoffed as you stared at her with so much disbelief across your face.

"Yes we sleep together, in the same bed! As she fucking helps me through my nightmares you gave me!" You poked her chest as you raised your voice at her.

"You think I will believe you? I seen the way you look at her Y/n-!"

You grabbed her hand as you showed her what you dream off, each night. Jumping up in fear and sweat as tears roll down your face and how each time those nightmares get worse, seeing how Wanda betrayed you over and over again and you were forced to see it, enduring more pain than it is healthy.

You let go of her hand as she finally looked at you but with a different emotion; guilt.

You scoffed as you walked away that's when Natasha noticed you was gone for too long, her gaze caught you walking away towards the elevators away from Wanda, she felt the anger in her raise but you were more important than dealing with Wanda.

You made your way towards the kitchen, as you wiped the runny make up down your face, using the reflecting bit of the coffee maker to see where the make up was ruined.

Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind you "How did you think that would end?"

It wasn't the voice you would expect to hear, you straighten yourself as you swiftly turned towards Vision "Are you as stupid as Wanda, I left to be left alone so why are you here?"

Your tone didn't faze him "Wanda never really loved you Y/n"

You rolled your eyes "Look you walking fridge, I don't give two shits what Wanda felt or not, I care about you leaving me the fuck alone before you regret it"

He stood there completely still, no emotions displayed "Did you think Wanda would love someone so simple, she has a connection with me through the mind stone but with you? Nothing"

You wanted to be angry but you knew this is why she left you, she had that connection with him that you could never understand, he laughed at your reaction "See, pathetic little girl who can't even get over the fact that she left"

"You never was enough. I am so much more better than you-" His sudden stop to his words, made you look up.

"If you don't leave this room, I swear the only thing that will be left is that stupid gem from your stupid head"

He raised his arms up as the gun was pointed at his head, Natasha might've drank a little too much, then again she doesn't exactly gets drunk, she is Russian and Russians are really hard to get drunk.

"Now leave" It was a demand that fell from the redheads mouth, he nodded and stepped out of the kitchen and left. He knew better than to start a war with the former assassin.

She placed her gun down as she rushed towards you and without a word just hugged you, you took a deep breath "Thank you.."

She pulled away slightly as she looked worryingly into your eyes "Whatever he said, it's not true-"

"Natty, there is no need to sugar coat it anymore" The smile that was spread across your lips wasn't as sad as it was before "She left me because I just wasn't what she wanted in the end, she might've left me in a horrible way but it's okay"

The Russian shook her head as she cupped your face with both of her hands as tears of her own dropped "You are just perfect, she made a horrible mistake"

You bought your hand to wipe her tears "Maybe, but that's her problem now and I couldn't be happier with where I am and who I am surrounded by"

She smiled as she pulled you into her, letting out a breath she was holding back, you always seem to have that effect on her whenever your face would be too close to hers.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Another 6 months went by so quickly, and you seem to be closer to Natasha than before. She trained you and you in return showed her what fun tricks you can do with your mind.

She was amused by you but also annoyed each time she would place something and it suddenly it was gone. The team soon started to snoop around your business as they noticed Wanda no longer being all over you.

You told the team and they were more than understanding, respecting your wishes or else they would know what Natasha's fist tastes like.

You noticed how much you grew fond of the feeling for Natasha, you seen her in a whole different light and if you were honest you actually really liked it.

You could've promised yourself that you would never want to be with someone again but you knew that this is a whole lie and the more you spend your time with Natasha the stronger you felt towards her.

You could pinpoint the exact moment you realised that what you felt wasn't friendly but more romantic

~~~~~

You always loved cooking as a way to relax and that's what you were doing today, Natasha was against cooking, she wanted to do her reports but you managed to convince her with your famous cookies.

The mission the both of you attended was tense but not as hard as others so a little cooking couldn't hurt anyone, you looked at Natasha who just sat there as she leaned on her hands.

"You could help me instead of being a weirdo and just staring" You spoke as you eyed her from what you were doing.

She chuckled as she protested "I was told to accompany you not be your elf"

You raised your brows at her "Elf? it's not Christmas season just yet darling"

If you were silent enough you could've heard Natasha's heart skip a beat at the nickname you used, she just stared at you with a smile so you continued not realising her obvious staring "Plus elf's are cute and very useful so more your ass and help me if you want some of these cookies"

She rolled her eyes playfully as she made her way towards you, you handed her some ingredients to mix together as you did your part as well.

She stood there, mixing it as her muscles flexed catching your eye once or twice... or all the time. You tried your best to keep your focus on what you were doing and finally when she was finished, she pushed the bowl towards you without saying anything.

You looked at her and the smile that was spread across her lips was the most innocent smile anyone could witness. Sometimes Natasha manages to act like a child just to impress you and it did work most of the time.

You smirked as you took your finger and dipped it into the melted chocolate and with one swift motion you rubbed it onto her face, her mouth fell open as you started to giggle at her.

She frown at you but failed to act upset as your giggles made her smile, so she did what she thought was payback and took some of the chocolate as she rubbed it on your cheek.

You looked at her when you suddenly stopped laughing "Okay, okay, I deserved that"

You tried to wiped the chocolate away but she stopped you and looked into your eyes, the sense of innocence was gone "Let me get it for you"

When her face moved closed to your cheek, you froze and then you felt her tongue on your cheek as she licked off the chocolate she just wiped on you, when she moved away and hummed at the deliciousness, your eyes were slightly wider as you stared at her.

This feeling wasn't friendly and definitely not innocent

~~~~~

You was sitting next to Natasha on the couch, with your head on her shoulder as she scrolled down her phone to bunch of 10 second videos of cats. You planned to ask Natasha out for a walk later in the day to finally talk to her but the thought of planning what you were going to say to her was interrupted.

"Sorry Y/n, can I quickly talk to you?" Wanda spoke up as she stood couple feet away from the couch.

You felt Natasha tense which made you look at her and nod slightly to let her know it's okay, she relaxed and smiled at you but her narrowed eyes came back as soon as it landed on Wanda.

"Sure" You spoke with just one word as the two of you made your way towards the kitchen, far enough from Natasha's hearing range.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to apologise.."

You took a deep breath, thinking it will be one of those scenes where the ex begs to get back but she held her hand up as she spoke before you could "I'm not here to 'beg' you to come back to me, I just wanted to say that I am really sorry how things turned out"

"I had a lot of time to think about what you showed me and I didn't realise the pain I had in flicked on you by doing what I did. It was a mistake with how I handled it and I am sorry"

You took a deep breath, this is all you wanted from her and in the end she finally understood her wrong "Like I said, I'm not here to beg you because I did fall out of love with you and nothing has changed since that time but I just wanted to say I'm sorry Y/n"

You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt, because you used to love her with your whole being but at the same time, you didn't love her like that anymore, someone else owned your heart and you were more than happy to gift it to them.

You nodded with a smile across your lips "I know Wanda, Thank you for this"

She nodded as she looked past you at Natasha "I'm just glad you were able to fall in love again.."

You looked where she was looking and smiled widely to yourself as you whispered "I know.."

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

You dragged Natasha along with you by her hand, she wanted to stay inside as it was cold but of course to managed to convince her, she of course said she would blame you if she gotten sick and you promised to be there for her if she was.

You pulled her towards this tall bridge that had a little pond beneath it, it was covered in ice which was more beautiful, the way the lights would light up the darkness and that's exactly how you felt with Natasha.

You stood in the middle of the bridge, smiling widely as Natasha's cheeks were slightly pink "Why are you smiling so much?"

The smile across of your lips never left as you answered her "Because Tasha! Look around it's beautiful"

She kept her gaze on you as you looked around "I agree with you" she didn't care about anything else but you in this moment admiring the beautiful of the world whilst her world stood right in front of her.

"Well why are we here?" She asked curious to why you wanted to drag her out here.

You took a deep breath and finally looked into her emerald eyes, taking in her warm hand "I brought you here so I can tell you something important-"

She whined "You could've told me in the warmth of my bedroom"

You rolled your eyes "No, no I could not have"

"Fine, okay.. Tell me" She sighed with a small smile.

"Natasha, where do I start... You have changed so much in my life and I really hope this will change a lot of things for good"

She looked confused at you as her heart started to beat fast in her chest and you continued "I never thought I could get over what has happened but you made it so much more easier which is what made me fall in love with you"

"You have been nothing but amazing to me and I regret not seeing how strongly I feel about you. Because of you Tasha, I am whole again and-"

Before you could continue, Natasha pulled your face into hers as she smashed her lips against yours, the way her lips moved against yours made you feel so loved and happy.

She pulled away with the biggest smile as she pressed her forehead against yours "I had always loved you медовый (honey) and I would've done anything you told me even if that meant staying away"

You sighed at her words "I don't want you to stay away"

Natasha smiled with so much love "Good, I couldn't even if I wanted to"

You pulled her in for a kiss but before actually kissing her you whispered "I love you too Natty" and finally allowed yourself to kiss Natasha with the same love as she was giving you.

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[lady-byleth]

Sooooo, Shepard had a clone right? Knowing how much Cerberus likes to go above and beyond, there's a high chance that there's more than one. And the one we meet was comatose until needed, which she never was...so what if there's a whole bunch of clones in various stages of growth that just got frozen after Shepard went rogue

And after the war Miranda decides to see if she can find the rest and uncovers a whole storage of clones. Most of them are dead, either due to complications during development or because of cryo getting interrupted during the war

But one is still alive and asleep, so Miranda tells Shepard, who has only recently been released from the hospital, and takes her there so she can decide what to do with the clone herself.

Of course Garrus is there too cuz he's not letting Shepard out of sight until he's 100% sure she's not gonna get herself blown up again

Tali, Liara, Joker and EDI obviously can't be dissuade from joining either - EDI makes a compelling argument about having to test her new body that is actually complete bullshit, she's just curious - and James and Cortez just tag along because everyone else is going and it's about clones and the have Experience.

Javik comes too, cuz he's bored and Liara made vague comments about there maybe being Cerberus agents to fight, and Kaidan has a Bad Feeling about all these knuckleheads being in one room together so he comes along to keep the peace. That's a lie actually, he's just happy to be here.

Samara somehow shows up too, though no one actually contacted her cuz no one knew how. She just heard "Shepard" and "Cerberus" and decided "that could be trouble" and here she is

Grunt would have loved to go but Wrex tells him if he can't go then Grunt can't either cuz that would be unfair.

Jack has the kids to take care of and Jacob has his kid to take care of, so they're not able to come but promise help should there be some Cerberus agents that need blowing up.

Zaeed just sends a photo of himself at the pool titled "I'm fucking retired".

So Miranda ends up having to fly a huge group of people to that lab she found, which she grumbles about but she's not fooling anyone anymore.

As it turns out the facility is completely abandoned and powered down, except for the emergency power in the lab that's supposed to keep the clones alive. They check the whole place before they descend into the basement, looking for the one pod still active that Miranda found

They move past a bunch of pods with clones ranging from young girls to women the same age as Shepard and it's both fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

Shepard for her part seems to take it pretty well though she does stick close to Garrus who slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Tali links arms with her and Shepard gives her a small smile.

The active pod is in the far back and, at first glance, looks empty. Liara immediately grabs the data pad sitting beside it and flips through the many charts and notes on it, frowning in thought.

She mumbles something about "no growth hormones administered", gasps a small "oh" and holds the pad out a little so Miranda can read along with her as EDI starts typing on the console attached to the pod itself

"Oh!" she says after a moment, as if to echo Liara. Joker steps up next to her, trying to make sense of what she's looking at.

"What? How evil is it gonna be?"

EDI doesn't answer but turns to Shepard, a strange sparkle in her eyes that wasn't there when she first got a body. She looks both delighted and amazed. "Shall I open it?"

Shepard looks at the pod, worries her lower lip for a moment. Garrus squeezes her gently, Tali hugs her arm closer. The rest of their group closes rank around her, steadying her with their presence.

They're all here for her, no matter what. So she nods.

"Do it."

There's a low hissing sound and a blast of cold air, fog rolls out of the pod as the lid slides open slowly. For some reason Miranda and Liara look almost giddy, though Liara has to keep pushing Javik's hand down because he keeps trying to aim his gun.

James is standing on his tip toes to see into the pod before its even fully open and almost falls over when a very unexpected sound suddenly echoes through the room.

It's a crying voice. A baby's crying voice.

Samara immediately bolts forward, the instincts of a mother taking over, and she bends down into the pod and emerges with what's indeed a baby.

"Holy shit!" James looks flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." Cortez doesn't look any better.

"Holy shit, indeed!" Somehow Kasumi is here too.

Samara rocks the little girl in her arms, scrutinizes her closely and smiles.

"Yes, I feel a strong resemblance to you," she says, gracefully moving to a completely stunned Shepard.

If you've never seen a galactic hero speechless, suddenly confront them with a baby clone of themself and that should do the trick.

The baby of course doesn't know that, she's just screaming, probably cold and scared and disoriented. She's squirming in Samara's arms, oblivious to Liara, Miranda, Tali, Kaidan and - surprisingly - EDI who are crowding around Samara to catch a glimpse, cooing already

Samara doesn't even try calming the little girl down, she has other ideas. Before Shepard can refuse Samara deposits the baby into her arms, adjusts her grip and then steps back, an almost mischievous tilt to her serene smile.

The baby calms immediately, big eyes the same color as Shepard's blinking up at a face that will he hers one day.

Shepard is motionless, looking like someone just slapped her with a frying pan...until the baby suddenly starts squealing in delight.

The unease melts from Shepard's face, a slightly confused but warm smile replacing it, and she gently shifts the baby closer to her chest, speaking to her quietly.

Little feet kick with delight, small hands reach out to grab at her face, and careful, scarred fingers brush plump baby cheeks and Samara watches with obvious satisfaction as her friends crowd around Shepard to continue cooing at the little girl now laughing happily

Shepard doesn't see it, focused on the baby as she is, but James just bursts into tears at the adorable picture while Cortez tries to console him without looking away. .

Joker is sniffing a little bit too but instead of staying in the background he loudly says "brittle bones coming through" and pushes to the front of the group. The baby immediately steals his cap. He is delighted. EDI is delighted that he is delighted.

Javik pretends very hard not to be mesmerized by the first human baby he's ever seen. He's failing miserably, much to Kaidan's amusement.

Garrus sticks to the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He remembers London, the half joking half serious conversation about adopting kids after the war is finished.

He'd shelved the thought in favor of focusing on recuperating, fixing what the war had destroyed, and building up Shepard who had to wrestle with severe injuries, PTSD and survivor's guilt without the distraction of a galactic war to keep her from realizing how much she was suffering.

But...it had been months, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy - as much as was possible after the heavy losses - and Shepard was getting better. Therapy was going well. She would never be fully free of what she'd been through, but she was determined to get better and Hackett had arranged for the best help in the galaxy.

She was getting better. And restless. She had started spending more time with the orphans, playing with them, teaching them.

She'd always loved children. And Garrus had been very serious about starting a family with her, not so much about the cross species babies that biologically wouldn't happen.

But here was a baby that Shepard already had a connection with, a baby that she obviously already adored. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Yes. This could be good.

He feels Samara sidle up beside him, smiling knowingly. "You should suggest it," she says.

Garrus nods, shoots her a smile. "Yeah, I think I will."

[midgardianweasley]

Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

It’s very ambiguous

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You have finally come to age; your soulmate mark draws itself in your skin. You can't figure out who it connects you with, but, oh dear, you can only hope and wish it is to him. But Loki won't make it easy for you to find out. Will you both overcome the pride and fear that would involve your love?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: a bit of angst. (English is not my mother tongue and it’s my first time writing fanfiction in english, so forgive me if there’s any errors, and feel free to correct them!)

Sighing at your reflection, you stared for the Norns know how long to the fresh image that drew itself in the side of your abdomen.

You thanked it was easy to hide; saving you endless mockery from your friends if they saw that. The vivid portrayal of who you loved the most, in the most ambiguous drawing you could’ve ever gotten. How ironic.

What the Heavens would that mean, you asked yourself at least five times until the impatient knocking on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hurry up, we’re late”, said Sif. You knew she was already all dressed up for the Ball, and she would kill you, seeing you were still on your robes. You opened the bathroom door slowly, with burrowed frows. You couldn’t hide it, as much as you tried to. “Oh, for God’s sa…” she started complaining, but stopped as soon as she realized you were in a terrible state of mind.

“I got it”, you explained after she made you get out of the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. “I got the mark. Impossible to guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know who they is when the time is right”, said she, comforting you and eyeing the outfit you’d chosen earlier. “But crytime is over. Guess what time it is now. Yes, you guessed right. The Ball”.

The last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to dance; or to stay in a chair drinking wine the entirety of the night, for that matter. You didn’t need another reminder of your frustrated attempts at making him notice you. And you knew he wasn’t the one (if he were your soulmate, it would’ve already happened years; no, decades ago). But you still couldn’t help but falling in love at every little smirk, every little comment, every little thing he did. Dear, you were lost, completely gone in love.

That’s why you knew you wouldn’t find your soulmate for a long, long time. At least not until your crush for Loki had finally gone away.

“I’d rather stay”, you stated, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I want to go, and I can’t go alone. Please, at least do it for me”.

“Why would you want to go? Ever since we’re on age of being asked to dance, we have only gotten invitations from… well, anyone except them. And in the Balls we can’t even be their friends”.

“We can be friends, if they talk to us first we can talk back”.

“Yeah, we could, but they don’t talk first. They never do”.

Both of you were completely lost for the princes. But, unlike you, Sif had a chance with Thor. She was graceful, divine, a wonderful woman; a whole Goddess, an amazing warrior. There was no question Thor would sooner or later find love in her friend. But you… why would a prince like Loki lay his eyes on you? Romantically, he never showed a single trace of interest in anyone, much less someone in his friendgroup. You were the closest to him, yet he never said a thing.

He probably knew you drooled over him. He must have noticed how you looked at him in the library when he read to you, how you always defended him from everyone else’s mockery, how you intentionally pretended like you didn’t know any better in spells so that he could help you out. How your heartbeat raced when he fell asleep on your lap. He must have noticed, yet he said nothing.

She finally managed to convince you to go, with the condition that if you weren’t asked to dance at all, or even talk, you’d go back to your manor early.

You got in your best clothes, and undressing the best attitude possible, you both arrived at the palace and entered the ballroom as quick as your feet let you. The ambient was marvelous. Subtle lighting, most of them by candles. The golden details that characterized Asgard so well were everywhere. Both King and Queen were sat in their thrones, waiting patiently for the rest of the royal family to arrive before giving the annual speech and getting the party started.

“Do you think they’re not coming?” asked Sif as you got comfortable in your seats, eyeing the entrances.

“They can’t miss it, they’re sort of the hosts”, you said, “but… well, I don’t know. The other day after training, Thor mentioned something about this year being particularly difficult for them”, you added in such a low whisper that Sif had to pull closer.

“What did he say? He didn’t mention anything to me”, she whispered back. You two looked like you were merely gossiping, if it weren’t for the lack of giggling that would usually follow.

“He said… he said something along the lines of ‘we’re expected so much more than before in these dances, they’re more than just for fun now’, and, Sif, I think he meant…”, but she abruptly interrupted you.

“Courting? Oh, for the Norns, they’re not expected to choose a partner now, so soon, aren’t they?”.

“Soon? Sif, they’re already at each other’s throats for who’s becoming King, and they have been for a while”.

“They’re not exactly competing, anyways. You don’t have to worry about this. It’s not like Loki’s the one winning” said she, earning a subtle kick in the leg. “Auch!”.

“Would you stop being so hard on him?”.

“You know I’m right!”. 

“You know it hurts him. If you think so, at least keep it to yourself, Sif”.

You could’ve kept lecturing her if it weren’t for the sarcastic clapping of the Queen upon seeing the arrival of her sons. You read the ‘you’re late!’ on her lips and the apologetic looks on their faces. But nothing of that distracted you from admiring how marvelous Loki could get sometimes. Just when you thought he couldn't look any better, he outdid himself. You let out a sigh and Sif laughed.

“You’re staring”.

“And rightfully so. Look at him”.

But no matter how much you looked at him for the whole evening, you couldn’t get even a gaze from him. He didn’t even eyed you from the distance. You would’ve even gotten actually mad at him if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t looking anywhere. He didn’t seem like he was avoiding you; he was actively staring at the floor, with the saddest look on his face. And Thor looked pissed off.

“There’s a story in there and I will ask for as many details as possible once Loki spills the beans to you”, said Sif, elbowing you.

“I don’t think he will. Look, it looks like more than a fight. He looks so upset”.

You could only wish you were brave enough to break the stupid rule of the royals approach first so you could take his hand tightly and comfort him in whatever he was going through. As you always did. As he always let you.

The music played for three hours. Everyone was on their feet, dancing away, drinking away and chatting away, as one should in a Ball dance. Everyone except you and certain dark prince you didn’t even bother staring at anymore. You gave up looking for his attention an hour after the dance properly started, and it did nothing good to your pride to have been trying for that long anyways.

Sif got her chance, of course. Thor took his time, but after long he gave up with whatever quarrel he was having with his brother and approached her decisively. You were past pissed. Disappointed. After another sip of your wine, you couldn’t resist and stole a glance to Loki’s seat. To your surprise, you met his gaze. The God of Mischief was staring at you, and he apparently has been for Gods know how long. He quickly dropped his head and went back to looking at the floor, now with a completely red face.

You soon realized he was even more upset than before, as he watched Thor and Sif dance. And then you understood. Everything fell into place. Of course. Of course he liked Sif. Who wouldn’t. That’s why he fought with Thor. That’s why he was so worked up. You didn’t even need to read his mind to confirm it. 

You waited, still holding your eyes on him. You waited for another half an hour, but your patience was already on thin ice and he didn’t look like he would do anything more, anyways. So you did what you should’ve done hours ago. You got up and left.

“No, brother, you can go, I’ll let Mother know I’m staying”, said Loki from his room.

He could hear Thor’s patience shatter in pieces from the other side of the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t miss the Ball. Father will kill you”.

“It’s not my problem”.

“I think it is quite your problem, brother”. Loki sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for his mockery. Thor sensed it and lowered his tone of voice, insisting. “Tell me what it is, Loki. I promise I’ll try to help out”.

But he only scoffed and locked the door, to start pacing around the room, feeding his anxiety even more. He covered his arm with his palm and tried his best to make it go away. It’s just an accidental illusion. I’m making it out of nervousness. I need to make it go away, he kept saying under his breath. But it didn’t go away. It wasn’t an illusion.

“Oh, FOR THE NINE REALMS”, he kicked his chair as a sudden burst of anger ate him alive.

“Loki, let me in!”, insisted Thor. “I’m going in”.

“You can’t help me”.

“I might, if you just tell me what is it. You love the dances. Come on”.

“I do love dances, Thor, I’m not particularly fond of the weight this one has on us; not this year” he growled from the floor, knees on his chest. “Not with what I had planned, I can’t do it now” he whispered. Thor pretended like he didn’t listen to that last bit.

Loki had been circling around the idea of asking you to dance for the last few months. It was all he wanted; to caress your hand and gently hold you by the waist, to move at the pace of the music, to feel your heart on his chest, his rising heartbeat with every breath you took. He wanted you, and if that wasn’t possible (and he was sure it wasn’t) he wanted to dance with you all night long.

But now, he would have to court you and marry you if he did. And, of course, it was what he wanted. It was definitely all he wanted. But he knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t risk your beautiful friendship over anything in the world. What if he lost you forever? He could never bring himself to lose you, in any form or way.

“Brother, let me in. Or get out of the room. We’re late”.

“You’re late, Thor. Must I repeat myself? I’m not going”.

“I’m kicking the door”.

Loki sighed, and waited to hear Thor’s intense footsteps get closer and closer to the door to open it just in time and see him land on his face. Thor got up off the floor with blood on his nose.

“It combines with your crimson cape, brother, no need to worry” said Loki mockingly.

But Thor paid little attention to his silvertongue. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his arm. Then, he understood exactly why he was acting so terrified. Loki covered his arm as soon as he realized, mortified, but it was now too late and Thor had already seen it.

“Do you need any other reason to invite them to dance with you?”, he said with a grin of pride.

“It's not them. I’m certain”.

“How are you so certain? It’s such an ambiguous drawing, and you haven’t seen theirs!”.

“They doesn’t even have a soulmate mark yet. They told me the other day”.

“You didn’t have one at that time either, it must have changed. Come on”.

Loki sighed and put on a long sleeved outfit, while letting Thor rant about how much he was sure you’d reciprocate his feelings. And Loki couldn’t say anything against it, because it would only bring ruin to everyone; to spill the obvious secret that haunted him everyday.

The fact that you lusted over Thor.

And it hurted him like anything else, because he knew even though you didn’t say anything. He knew he was the lesser prince. The one that gets looked over. The shadow in his brother’s spotlight. The always-prince, never-King. It hurted like Hell.

But there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had a mark that linked him to the Norns know who, but he only had eyes for you.

Because you were always there. You were the one to defend him against his own insecurities, and everyone else’s accusations. The one to laugh the loudest at his jokes, the one to hold him the tightest when you were in fear, the one to call him first to anything. And you were perfect. But you, for obvious reasons, didn’t think the same of him. You thought the world of him, but not in the way he wished.

And he wouldn’t even get to see you happy from someone else’s love, because his brother didn’t even have eyes for you. The idiot of Thor could not see your brightness, and Loki wondered how could anyone not fall in love with you.

“You need to try, Loki, you’ll never know if you don’t risk a little”.

“A little? To you this is a little? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost them forever? If the person that I love the most leaves me because I just decided to stop hiding my feelings?”, yelled Loki, completely angered.

“Ah, there it is. If I decided to stop hiding my feelings”, repeated Thor, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”.

“You are afraid; so incredibly afraid of letting anyone know you fully. That is your problem, Loki. They’ll accept you no matter what, because they already know you. You think you’re hiding, well, you’re not so good with this little lie of yours”, said finally Thor, tired of biting his tongue about it.

“You know nothing about their feelings”.

“I know enough”.

“Believe me, you don’t. And you don’t get to say a word about my love life, or anything about this situation, for that matter. You don’t get to make light of my situation, as you do with everything regarding me. Now, leave. Me. Alone”.

They continued fighting about it until one of their tutors had enough of their unpunctuality and came to look for them. Both entered the ballroom still highly upset at each other and said nothing about it all night. Frigga knew exactly what they were talking about, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about the delay in their arrival.

Loki tried to not look at you in the entirety of the night; avoided all the eye contact he could with anyone, specially you. He was too afraid you’d choose that exact time to practice your special abilities at mind reading (since you’ve done this at previous dances, when Loki didn’t approach you), and if he didn’t see you, you couldn’t do it. Because if you dared reading his mind you’d only find yourself. And in those little moments he got to glance at you, while you were distracted with something else, he sank in sadness, because all he wanted was to embrace you and dance with you. You looked as fantastic as you always were and more. You looked especially excellent. And it didn’t go unnoticed to him that you looked annoyed. From the eye-sided glances he got to steal from you, he saw you staring at the seat he and his brother were in. You were expectant. You wanted to be taken out to dance. And Loki’s suspicions about your crush on Thor only got reassured when he asked Sif for a dance and you looked the most annoyed you’d ever looked in ages.

You left the dance early. After about ten minutes Loki decided to go after you. Outside of the ballroom you could still be a friend; that was the whole point of swallowing his feelings. He wandered the palace until he heard fireballs collapsing against the huge walls of your typical training spot, but he lingered his entrance to observe you in an incredibly angry state of your magic.

“You’ll set the palace on fire” said a gut-wrenching familiar voice. Of course Thor was there. Of course Thor would get earlier to comfort you in something that he destroyed.

“Then so be it”, you answered with a crack in your voice. Loki didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself but to listen.

“I know why you’re upset. Believe me, it upsets me too”.

“You have no idea what upsets me”, you answered, and Thor chuckled. Loki could sense that Thor was thinking about how similar you and Loki were. You threw another fireball against the wall.

“Let me guess”.

“Enlighten me, your majesty”.

“You didn’t get to dance with the man you like”.

“You know nothing about the man I like”.

“When will you all stop treating me as if I were blind? Come on, why won’t you tell me? I’m your friend. I know you’re burning up in love and you still think you don’t have a chance because… because what? Because he’s the prince of Asgard?” said Thor. You stopped your magic and stared at him with teary eyes.

“Because the prince of Asgard I love, is in love with Sif. And there’s nothing I can do about it” you answered. Loki’s heart broke. Hearing you admit your raw feelings to Thor that way, and Thor not even understanding you were talking about him.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!” insisted, still clueless.

But Loki didn’t need to hear any more of that. He ran through the halls of the palace until he got to lock himself in his room.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!”, Thor asked, and you scoffed. You lowered your gaze to the floor, trying to make the tears go unnoticed. They didn’t, and Thor hugged you tightly.

Thor was almost like a brother to you. You grew up together, but it was more than that. You were always for each other. He never had to ask about your love for Loki, he always knew. And you never had to ask about his crush in Sif; it was transparent. So you both supported each other. You didn’t even bother telling him how she felt about him, it was bound to happen. Now, you and Loki, on the other hand…

“He is, you can’t deny it”.

“I’m denying it, I assure you”. You wiped your tears away and touched your mark over your clothes. He smiled. “You got the mark, didn’t you?”.

“Yeah”.

“What is it?”.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just forget him and start looking for my soulmate. If the mark showed up today, then it must be for something. There has to be a reason”. Thor nodded, still smiling. “What are you so happy about, dumbass? My heart’s broken".

“Nothing. You keep on looking. Can I see it?”, said he, patting your back.

“It’s too ambiguous, you won’t guess it”.

“So I expected”.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know anything?”.

“Nothing whatsoever”.

You got in your fighting position. Loki bent down in his seat, focusing on the next fight. He was sure you’d win; he has been teaching you new moves and you completely mastered them. And your rival didn’t know any better, anyways.

One kick from your opponent; you avoided it and threw a punch. Another kick. Another punch. The rival grabbed your leg, making you lose your balance and almost fall down, but you used that impulse to push him away and get him to the ground. He got up and started using magic. A blue light shone around him and started getting closer to your feet. You closed your eyes and focused intensely; soon, water drops started emerging from the tips of your fingers. They quickly transformed into a stream of water that wrapped your opponent from head to toes, making his electricity magic attack him, instead of you. Loki smiled.

Your rival pushed further his strength and one of the electrified waterjets hit your leg. You fell to the ground with a scream. It hurted, a lot. Loki gasped and Thor had to grab his shoulder to remind him it was just a training fight. For his tranquility, you got up on your feet soon and started using your magic again.

An aura of sparks and wind formed around you while you closed your fists, extremely concentrated. Your opponent waited without attacking, but behind the shield of his armour. Loki saw Thor smile proudly; this was the part he taught you. For your fire side of your powers, Thor was the one to train you thoroughly. Loki sighed, frustrated because you haven’t yet shown what Loki had taught you with such enthusiasm. He still observed you with attention.

“This part is awesome, look, brother”, whispered Thor in his ear, which only made him angrier.

“I’m sure it is. They is awesome. And wait until you see what I taught them”. Thor chuckled.

“No need for jealousy, Loki. They’s all yours”. Loki rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the fight again.

The sparks and wind grew bigger and bigger around you, circling your whole body. Once the sparks became fire, you directed your whole energy to your opponent, sending him against the wall. If it weren’t for the gigant fire-proof shield, he would’ve gotten completely roasted.

You put your guard down, and as you did so, the wind and fire around you dispersed. Loki got to see you again once the magic flew down, and realized you had your clothes slightly lifted up. He tried not to look out of respect, but Thor gasped, and that drew his attention directly to what surprised his brother. And it did not disappoint. Loki’s chest got as tight as it has ever been. His breathing became irregular and unsteady, and his face got completely red. You didn’t notice your shirt had lifted up, so you didn’t realize what was going on. You got closer to your defeated rival and shaked his hand.

“You win. I see you’ve been well trained”, he said.

“I have”, you answered, and directed your gaze to the princes who were watching the fight. You walked closer to them to chatter, as you always did, but Loki got up fast and ran out of the training room. Thor told you to follow him, and Loki heard your footsteps behind him for the entirety of the hall, until you two got to the gardens.

Loki was shaking. He didn’t want you to be there. He didn’t want you to see him that vulnerable. And you knew it, so you didn’t get closer than two meters apart.

“Loki”, you said after a while, behind his back. “What’s wrong?”.

He turned around, face still red. He was usually cold, but at that moment he was burning up inside and out. Maybe he was burning out of love for you. Maybe out of anger, for being so pessimistic and making himself a martyr when his brother was clearly right. Maybe out of rage to himself, for waiting so long to make a move and losing so much time lost in his own head. But you were still standing there, concerned. And he had to say something, because you still didn’t know anything.

“I saw your mark”, he stated. Now you were the one with the red face.

“Oh… I, I don’t, uh…”, you stuttered, and he got closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and you looked at him in the eyes, clueless. “I try not to give it that much attention”.

“Why?”, he asked. “It’s your soulmate. The person you’ll love the most”.

“I already love someone” you said, in a burst of confidence. Loki swallowed in nervousness. Your hands started to get sweaty. “I… ugh. Sorry. I don’t want to say…”.

“Who? Tell me, I’m your best friend”.

“I don’t want you to be”, you finally said. “It’s you, Loki. It’s always been you. I don’t care about this stupid soulmate mark, because I know I’m in love with you and I always have been”.

Loki stayed silent, which only made your anxiety increase. He finally looked at you in the eyes and formed a subtle smile.

“I thought you loved Thor”.

“What? Why would I…?”.

“I heard you after the Ball; you said the prince you love was in love with Sif”.

“Yeah, you”.

“I’m… what? I’m not… I’m not in love with Sif, darling”.

Your heart stirred, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the pet name he just gave you, or the fact that you got it all wrong. He wasn’t in love with Sif?

“I’m sorry, did we both think…?”.

“We’re idiots, apparently”.

You both laughed. That was it; that cotidianity, that normality that felt, even in the most embarrassing and intense moments, completely fine. Because you were, before anything, friends.

You hugged him. He returned the hug and caressed your neck and back with one hand. You felt his heartbeat rise, and from that position, he whispered in your ear with that beautifully deep and raspy voice; “I saw your mark”.

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, ignore my feelings if necessary. But my heart only beats for you”, you whispered back. He sank his nose on the crook of your neck and felt his mouth form a smile against your skin. You shivered and felt warmth in your stomach.

“I don’t want to ignore your feelings”.

“I love you”, you said once again, regretting it in that instant. You couldn't stop your words from falling out of your mouth. You felt like you sounded desperate.

“I love you too, my dear”.

You, in shock, looked at him in the eyes. He kept smiling, and putting a strand of your hair behind an ear, placed a small kiss on your red cheek.

“I don’t know what to do next. I like being your friend”, you said. “And I don’t think we’re meant to be. I got a mark, and you haven’t, so it’s obvious we won’t end up together anyways. And I want you by my side for all my life; even if it’s just as a friend, you know? I don’t want to lose you”. Loki chuckled at your rant. “What?”.

“What makes you think I didn’t get my mark yet?”.

“Well, I… I don’t know. Did you?”.

“Yes”.

“What does it look like?”.

He smiled.

“It’s very ambiguous”, said he, sarcastically.

“Hard to guess, is it?” you chuckled, realizing what was going on. Loki lifted his sleeve, uncovering an identical soulmate mark to yours.

“Hard to guess, yet so obvious”, he said. He grabbed your waist and neck and both melted in a long, desired kiss. You sank your fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp. “Yours?”

“It’s very ambiguous too, you know?”.

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 1

Jason smirked as the lock disengaged for him. Tim may be ‘the smart one’ but thank God he was predictable.  It made things like breaking into his townhouse so much easier.  Now he just had to convince him to let him hide at his place for a few days.  It shouldn’t be too hard once he knew it would piss off Damian, because again, Tim was predictable, and one thing he reveled in more than tormenting Jason was tormenting the gremlin.  And not being able to find Jason would absolutely kill Damian, meaning he couldn’t kill Jason.  And none of them would think to look for Jason at Tim’s place of all places.

“Hey, Preten… er… Tim.  You here?” Jason called out as he relocked the door behind him.  “Come on, Tim.  I know you’re here.  You said you were going to hang out with friends tonight, which we both know means you’re going to be home alone all night.”

Jason moved through the townhouse looking for Tim, getting increasingly paranoid as he moved.  He’d told Alfred he’d be around if he needed anything, and he would never lie to Alfred.  So where was he, Jason wondered to himself as he walked past Tim’s bedroom, noting the untouched bed and wandered into the spare bedroom.  And who was the woman in the bed?  The suspiciously, absolutely gorgeous woman, sleeping peacefully in the bed he was going to use.  When Tim was conspicuously missing?  Well that was unpredictable.  

What the fuck was going on?  Tim was paranoid as fuck.  And to just leave someone in his townhouse unsupervised?  Someone who was pretending like she could sleep through Jason screaming at the top of his lungs?  Something was off.  “Hey! Person who doesn’t live here!” Jason yelled.  “Who the fuck are you and why are you in my brother’s bed?”

The woman’s eyes popped open.  Her face scrunched in confusion after a beat, but she slowly closed her eyes again.  “Hey, no!” Jason kicked the bed hard enough to jostle the entire bed.  “Who the fuck are you?”  

This time the woman, who he now realized was probably Tim’s girlfriend that he hadn’t told any of them existed, which he couldn’t blame Tim for, he wouldn’t want to introduce anyone to this family unless he had to either, bolted up to sitting and gasped in a breath.  Her head whipped around clumsily to find the source of the disruption.  She blinked groggily as she looked around, almost like she wasn’t registering what she was seeing, not really.  Jason almost felt bad for waking her up because damn, she must have been really deeply asleep.  It was taking her a while to settle back into reality.

Jason’s theory about her not really taking in what she saw was confirmed when her gaze swept past him with no reaction at all.  The room was dim, but wasn’t dark.  He wasn’t hidden.  There was no way she could have missed him.  After a few seconds she stopped her scan of the room and blinked blankly, swaying slightly in place, and brought her gaze back to him.  She blinked more heavily a few more times as she stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was really there.

Her eyes met his, but didn’t seem to see him. They looked glazed over.  He would normally be a bit more sympathetic to the sleep induced daze, but he was already in a bad mood and she was fucking ignoring him and where was Tim?  “Yes, I’m real,” he gruffly answered her unasked question.  “Now, for the third time, what the fuck are you doing in my brother’s bed?”

She looked down at herself and the bed she was in.  Her head lolled unsteadily as she looked around until she fell back onto the bed with a grunt.  “I see why your brother is the detective, not you.”  

“Excuse me!” he growled at her.  Instead of flinching back like a normal person would have, a smile teased on her lips and she turned over on her side, curling happily into her pillow.  Jason almost thought she’d fallen asleep and was about to strip the comforter off of her until she slurred out a sleepy question.  “So, which brother are you?”

He stared at her, unsure how to react to her. She knew Tim was a detective.  How did she know that?  ‘Detective’ isn’t a term you could just throw in there like ‘he’s the smart one’ would be, which, he was used to hearing.  But ‘detective’ was extremely specific and directly related to their nightly activities.  Unless he told her he was a private detective for some reason?  Or an inside joke?  And she was acting so casual about it, like it was an understood thing.  “Jason,” he finally answered.  Regardless of whether she knew or not, giving that much wouldn’t hurt.

“Ooohhh,” she smiled against the pillow, not even bothering to open her eyes.  “I was supposed to never meet you.  You should definitely stay close by.  Take a picture of Tim’s face when he sees you with me.  It’s going to be brilliant.  I would pay to see it.”

He smiled in spite of himself, but quickly schooled his expression.  She wasn’t answering his questions.  She was deftly avoiding giving him any information.  It was so natural, he could almost believe it really was, but nobody in their lives was that innocent.  But then again, her body was completely relaxed.  He was accustomed to deceptive relaxation, body positioning that appeared outwardly to be relaxed, but the muscles were prone and ready to jump into action in an instant if a threat presented itself.  She didn’t show those signs.  She was either amazingly good, which would explain how she knew who Tim was, or she really was that relaxed and innocent.  

Either way, he still didn’t have a name.  “And who are you exactly?  For the fourth time,” he asked again.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured as she groped for the covers to pull them back up over her chest.  “So tired. Just sleep.  Tim will be back soon, maybe.  Ask h…” she trailed off.

“You don't care if I share the bed?” he asked suspiciously.  This seemed more and more like a trap, but what the hell the trap could be, he couldn’t figure out.  He wasn’t married or seeing anyone so it wasn’t like she could blackmail him with pictures. And she couldn’t exhort him by forcing him into a situation where he defends himself against her husband or boyfriend who just ‘happens’ to walk in on them in bed, that was actually a popular one in Gotham for some reason, because they were in Tim’s townhouse and she knew they were brothers so… what the hell could her game be?

“And there was one bed,” she mumbled amused, giggling softly to herself.

“What?”

She waved him off sloppily.  “Not worried. You lay one finger on me and Tim will kill you.” She clumsily patted the space in the bed next to her.  “Sleep.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he insisted surlily. He waited to see how she would react, but her only response was a soft snore.  He snorted.  He studied the woman, trying to figure out who exactly this woman was and how close to Tim she was, because not many girlfriends would suggest pranking their boyfriends with cheating… with the boyfriend’s brother, especially when she apparently knew there was animosity between them.  

Some of that could be because she was currently quite obviously not quite aware of reality.  He was now convinced it was a bit more than just being tired.  She had clearly enjoyed her night a bit too much, which he could completely understand. If he had to spend an entire night laughing with Tim, he’d need to be drunk too.

His head snapped in the direction of the front door when he heard the sounds of a lock disengaging and the door opening.  He glanced back at the woman in the bed, whose name he still didn’t know, and made a split second decision to trust her despite that fact.  The likelihood that she was conning him was far outweighed by the opportunity to prank Tim, and with his friend’s? girlfriend’s? whichever’s help!  This was unheard of.  Dick’s friends were more than willing to help with a prank, knowingly or unknowingly, but Tim’s friends?  Never. At least not with Jason.

He ripped off his jacket and shirt, throwing them toward the corner of the room and hopped toward the bed as he pulled off his boots.  He jumped under the covers behind the woman and let the covers pool around his hips, just above his pants waistband.  He pulled the covers up to the woman’s shoulders to hide the fact that she was still wearing her shirt.  She barely moved at all in response to his actions.  He wasn’t even sure if she knew he was there.  He really hoped when she woke up that she remembered the prank.

He could hear Tim’s footsteps as he got closer to the door.  Just before he reached the door, Jason threw his arm over the woman’s waist and moved closer to her.  He just barely cracked his eye open, enough to see Tim, but still look closed if the other person wasn’t watching closely enough.

Tim peeked quietly into the room.  He did a double take when he saw the bed.  “What the…” Tim started.  Jason couldn’t stop the small grin that spread on his face, that is until Tim reacted.  

He suddenly threw the door open and rushed the bed. He hauled Jason out of the bed with more strength than Jason remembered him having.  Tim threw him against the wall hard enough to knock a few pictures off the wall.  His face was contorted in the angriest scowl Jason had ever seen on him.  He shoved his forearm into Jason’s throat, pushing hard enough that Jason had to gasp to get air.

Tim moved closer, his eyes sparking with so much anger that for the first time Jason was a bit intimidated.  Maybe this hadn’t been such a brilliant idea after all.  But, this reaction from the normally composed Tim was definitely unpredictable.  The woman wasn’t kidding when she said Tim would kill him for touching her.  Tim paused and glanced down toward Jason’s cargo pants, still tightly belted and zipped.  When he looked back up, his eyes had somehow narrowed even more.  “That better have been just a terrible fucking joke.”

Jason rolled his eyes and tried to push Tim’s arm away from his throat, but Tim wouldn’t yield.  “Calm down, Timbers.  I didn’t sleep with your girlfriend,” Jason jeered.

“She isn’t my girlfriend, asshole,” Tim sneered back pushing his forearm harder into Jason’s throat.  “She’s a good friend who got drugged by someone tonight, intending to do God knows what.  So you can imagine how utterly not funny I find you joking about sleeping with her right now.”

Jason’s eyes widened in realization.  That… that would explain a lot.  “Oh Shit.  I’m really sorry, Tim.  I swear I didn’t do anything to her.”  Tim nodded slightly and lowered his arm, but his expression didn’t soften much.  He continued to glare at Jason.

His stare down was interrupted by a soft, tired, slightly slurred voice.  “What happened?  Tim?”  The woman smiled slightly.  “You’re home.”  Her eyes flicked over to Jason and she stopped to contemplate him.  “Hey, you’re real.  Did you take a picture?”

Tim whipped his head over to Jason, his heated glare back in place. “A picture of what, exactly?” he demanded.

Jason held up his hands in an effort to placate him.  She was really, really not helping them right now. “Of your face when you saw us together,” he explained slowly.  Tim drew in a deep breath and his jaw got even tighter.  “In my defense, it was her idea,” Jason said quickly, pointing to the woman, “and I didn’t know she was drugged.”

Tim looked away and huffed out an angry breath. He rubbed his forehead.  “Of course it was her idea.”  He turned to the woman with an exasperated sigh.  “You’re not funny, Marinette.”

The woman, Marinette, pouted at him and nestled deeper into the covers.  “I’m fucking hilarious,” she mumbled out from under the covers.  Her face emerged from the covers as she took them both in.  She looked down at Jason’s chest for a second and threw off the comforter to look down at her chest.  She pulled gently at the front of her shirt.  “Should have taken my shirt off too.  Would have been funnier,” she chastised lightly before collapsing back onto the bed and closing her eyes again.

“No,” Tim yelled out holding out his hands in a halting motion.

Marinette opened one eye to glare at him before turning over and snuggling into the covers on the other side.  “Fuck you.  I have great breasts.”

Tim groaned and looked down mortified.  “Oh God, that’s not something I wanted to ever hear coming out of your mouth.”

“And you’re in trouble anyway,” she continued, ignoring Tim’s comment, her words slurring slightly more as fatigue claimed more of her attention.  “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was sexy?”

Tim groaned and ran his hand down his face.  “And there’s another.”  He looked back at her with a serious expression.  “Not sexy, annoying asshole.”

“No, she clearly said sexy,” Jason corrected him with a cocky grin.

“Touch her and die,” Tim hissed.

“Protective much,” Jason taunted.

“That’s exactly what I am, protective of my drugged friend,” Tim growled back, reminding Jason of the situation and why Marinette was there in the first place.  He turned back to Marinette with a softer expression.  “You can do far better than him.”  He didn’t even flinch when Jason punched him hard in the shoulder. Jason discretely looked up to see how Marinette reacted to Tim’s words, but she was already sleeping again.

He only looked away from her when Tim punched his shoulder and shoved him toward the door.  “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he snapped.

“Yeah, yeah.  Okay.  Whatever, keep your friend,” Jason waved him off, but his eyes found their way back to her as they left the room.  “Tell me what happened while I raid your fridge.”

Chapter 2

@jasonette-july-event

[teyvattherapist]

Once you write for Baal, I'll request her with Mona and Kazuha with the god of fate.

Like the usual

I also added Thoma per your other inquiry!

tags: m!reader/Baal, m!reader/Mona, m!reader/Kazuha, m!reader/Thoma, God!Reader, Khaenri'ah spoilers, Inazuma archon quest spoilers, just spoilers in general.

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Khaenri’ah wouldn’t have had any survivors if it hadn’t been for a particular man that seemed unfazed by the battlefield the once prosperous nation of humanity became. Neither Khaenri’ahn nor from Celestia, simply an outlander. Despite showing great fighting prowess and strategic skill, Khaenri’ah had still fallen under the watchful gaze of the man. Of course, this was just a legend, a small rumour only known by the most curious of historians or academics. And even then, it’s debated. With the legacy of Khaenri’ah long gone, all that was left was anecdotal evidence.

Baal

-Divinity, humanity, both pale in comparison to eternity. You were nothing more than something in her way. Much like the rest of Khaenri’ah as a whole. To her you were nothing more than inferior. And she didn’t stop to take the time to investigate like Morax had nor did she take the time to recognise the marks of stars like Barbatos.

-Her ideals quickly shattered when she realised Divine Punishment means nothing when faced by another of her status. A divine being capable of braving the lightning’s glow. Too prideful to admit her defeat she proved to be quite a thorn in your side during the war. But even one whose ideal is closest unto Heaven cannot compete with the one who controlled Fate.

-Baal has all but forgotten the faraway God, too focused on her own ideals, too focused on herself in the present day to remember such an aimless point in time. In a closed off nation tucked away on the sea, talk of your presence in Teyvat went unheard by the Raiden Shogun.

The 100th vision hunt decree ceremony was commemorative. The Goddess turned to face the crowd of onlookers, violet eyes narrowing at an almost familiar face standing towards the back. You lifted your head to her, flashing the Shogun a smile before pulling the notebook from the black and gold cloak. Almost too quickly her attention turned back to the man kneeling at the foot of the statue. Her 100th vision.

Baal lifted her hand, summoning the pyro vision to her and despite the blond’s attempts at keeping his vision they were futile as it soared through the air towards the Goddess. You almost dropped your pen when Aether pushed by you, using his newfound electro abilities as a boost to snatch the vision. An interesting but not surprising turn of events that was scrawled into the notebook.

You watched as she brought her blade up to strike an unconscious Aether. The taller blond managed to get his binds off, throwing the polearm that she then deflected. The blowback caused Aether and Paimon to go flying backwards into the blond. As they ran off she gave the order to seize them under the decree, turning back to look up at the statue. That was your cue to leave, the work had been done for now.

When Baal turned to look back at the crowd she got the glimpse of that cloak that seemed to come back to haunt her departing from the crowd.

Mona

-Ah the great astrologist Mona. One who believes fate cannot be changed nor reversed, merely accepted. How funny an outlook. Though you’d never tell her that, she is for all that she’s worth, a wonderful astrologist. But that was the thing with mortal magicians, even they could get things such as fate wrong.

-She tried only once to glimpse into the mysterious stranger’s destiny. But when one has no destiny, what does she see? The threads of fate themselves have barred her vision into him. To her he is an uncertain piece in what should be absolute certainty.

-This however just makes her curious to know more. She thinks she’s being sneaky as she follows you around to try and garner more information. But Mondstadt isn’t all that big and her hat is very telling.

You narrowed your eyes at the telltale sign of somebody watching you, you lifted your head to look around but there were no more stares than the usual ones that came with being a stranger in a small nation. You did notice, however, a very familiar witch occupying herself with the fruit stand. Could she even afford that? Probably not. You bowed your head to Flora, tucking the windwheel aster behind your ear as you made off.

Mona put the apple back, waiting a few moments before she followed you down the cobblestone path. This was the problem with magicians in every world, always far too curious for their own good. You turned a corner to try and get her off your tail, you had far too much work to do to deal with her nosing around. She was smart, though. You had to give her that as you pressed your back against the wall of the alleyway, waiting for her to go by.

“I just have a question!” Mona popped her head into the alleyway, figures you wouldn’t be able to escape her. Mona looked around before stepping into the alleyway. “You are not from this world and sand clouds my vision every time I try to view your true nature. I am merely intrigued by this turn of events.” She put her hands on her hips, green eyes trying to discern something about you. She was certainly blunt, at least she knew what she wanted at the end of the day.

Her stare was intense as she tried to see through you, but whenever she looked too hard she found herself attempting to shake off invisible strings. You merely offered her a smile, what’s the point in lying to somebody you may not ever see again? “I’m a record keeper of sorts. You have impressive skill, Mona.” The compliment had her smirking, praise would be her undoing. But it at least changed the subject. What a fascinating woman.

Kazuha

-Unsurprisingly or perhaps surprisingly you met him while he fled from the Raiden Shogun’s forces. As in he ran directly into you and nearly dropped the dead vision he was still clutching in his hand. Interesting isn’t it? What a simple change of cloak can do to conceal one’s identity. Always intervening whether or not you should, that seemed to be the staple when it came to Teyvat.

-You did not spend much time with Kazuha beyond that. His path was his to walk and you would not meddle further. Though you knew that he knew, somebody as observant as he would be able to tell, wouldn’t he?

-That was a while ago though. Now you once more found yourself face to face with Kaedehara Kazuha. Or well, less face to face and more in the same area.

“I hope you can afford all these mercs!” Beidou called as she and her crew rushed into battle against the Shogun’s forces. Far enough away to not involve yourself, but close enough to listen to the resulting conversations. You jotted things down, whatever seemed important in the moment, minor details you may forget, a rough draft, if one will.

Kazuha lifted his head after greeting Gorou, eyes scanning the rocks jutting out of the nearby sea on the beach that had become a location of endless bloodshed. And for a moment, he faltered, red eyes widening before narrowing. He should have expected this. You always seemed to be where big things happened. “Kazuha, watch out!” Beidou warned and Kazuha snapped out of it, returning to the battle.

The rain began to start and you safely tucked your notebook away as you watched the rest of the battle. Ultimately Sara called back her forces when Kokomi showed up, the Shogun’s army quickly retreating from the bloody battlefield to rethink their strategy. You held your hand up, rain soaking through your glove. The battlefield cleared itself of most soldiers, Gorou, Beidou, Kazuha, two soldiers, and Aether remained to talk to one another.

Kazuha turned, looking over his shoulder and back at the sea around him. He wondered if you’d come, help like you had helped him back then. He lifted a bandaged hand, no doubt the same hand you had once given him bandages to cover the injury from clasping a dying vision. In turn you gave him a wave. All these people whose lives you have impacted in some way or another. Small things here and there. You wondered how much he knew of your deeds.

Thoma

“State your business here!”

“Oh- he’s a friend! He’s with us.” Aether interrupted the teahouse lady before she could say anything else. The woman huffed but conceded, allowing you to move past her and towards Aether and the taller blond from the ceremony. The teahouse door was opened and you stepped inside with them, pulling your notebook out to take notes. “Thoma, Ayaka this is… Well he doesn’t have a name.” Aether turned his head to look at you and you merely shrugged.

“You may refer to me as the Recordkeeper. Ha, that’s kind of like the Doctor.. I’ll have to write that down.” You make a note in the front of your notebook. Ayaka, Thoma, and Paimon look confused but Aether understood the reference. At least. “I’m merely here to listen. Pretend I’m not here, yes?” And with reassurance from your traveler friend, they did just that. You noted their plans, their ideals, where they’d go. It was all fascinating. A resistance against a God. The last time that happened…

You shook the thoughts, that was then, this is now. You cannot get involved again. Ayaka stood to leave, saying her goodbyes. Aether was gone next, a promise to meet again. That left you with Thoma. “Are you sure you don’t have a name? I feel a job title shouldn’t be a name.” He joked, leaning on his elbows as he watched you write into your notebook. Your pen stopped against the pages, the edge of the D growing thicker. “At least, I think that’s your job, right?”

You looked up from your book, setting the pen down against the pages. He was curious to say the least, despite everything that happened earlier. “I suppose it is my job, yes. I keep records. And I’m known by many names Fate Weaver, the Recordkeeper, God of Fate, I believe I’ve also been referred to as the God of Time once.. That’d be incorrect though.” For a moment something unrecognisable passes through his green eyes before his smile is back on his face.

“How about we call you (Name)? That way you don’t have to admit what and who you really are everywhere you go.”

“(Name)? Hm.. Very well.”

[calumxkisses]

Dancing In The Sky | a.i.

pairing: ashton irwin x reader

genre: fluff to angst

warnings: death (not main characters)

summary: request - Hi!!! It’s very morbid but, I really want one with ash or cal, where they’re in one of the boys house just the boys and their girls, and then the reader receive a call in the middle of the conversation telling someone in her family is dead and she just in shock and she tells them, and the he hugs her and she breaks!!! Thanks

a/n: recently my granny had to be rushed to the hospital and i thought i was going to lose her - luckly it didn't happen. i felt this request particularly close. i always say 'i love you' to my grandma before hunging up on the phone (we live pretty far away from each other) and i thought about what would happen if i forgot to say it, not knowing it would be for the last time. i'm sorry to anyone of you if this triggers you. i love you.

you should read this imagine while listening to: before you go

➳

The light coming in from the window on your right illuminates the whole room, it’s late afternoon but the sun shines almost as if it were noon. The scorching heat has now passed, there is a breeze that cools the air and spreads the scent of the grill in the garden, alternating the scent of grilled vegetables and steaks throughout the house. The pool water is still moving, the inflatable flamingo is wedged near the pool stairs and you can still see the tracks of Michael's wet feet near the diving board.

Halsey's songs are repeated at a low volume, but the guys sing them out loud and a smile forms on your face as you see how they are always ready to support their friends, not only publicly with tweets or instagram stories, but also in private, enjoying music like normal people do.

You hold onto the sweatshirt Ashton gave you as you grab your cell phone from the sofa and put it in your shorts pocket. Your hair is still wet from the shower you just took and it’s leaking few drops of water as you head outside, where your friends are starting to set the table for dinner.

You don't know how it happened, you have vague memories, but you feel grateful to have them around you, to have the opportunity to consider them as a second family, to be able to hug them and to be able to laugh with them. It is a fortune that not everyone has and you make sure you don't waste this opportunity.

“Honey!” Ashton yells, shaking his hand up and looking at you with an amused look. A few tufts of hair fall in front of his face and with one hand he tries to move them back, only to find them in front of his eyes again. His swimsuit is now dry, his chest is red from staying under the sun all day but his tattoos still manage to stand out in the tan and a huge smile covers his face.

Seeing him so happy, confident, at peace with his mind and in love with life, warms your heart and you almost feel like crying of joy in seeing him like this.

You wiped his tears, hugged him under the covers and held him a million times as his demons took over, when mirrors became enemies and food scared him.

You turned off his cell phone every time he read comments about his body and spent sleepless nights keeping him company while he vented his frustration by playing the drums.

You held out your hand to him while accompanying him in his battle against himself, you kissed him as he went through hell and his joy was worth every single tear.

You are proud of him, of the way he went back to wearing his favorite t-shirts and of the way he has come to love all his flaws, even though you're still sure he doesn't even have one.

As you leave the house, a cool breeze passes through your hair and you instinctively close your eyes to be able to appreciate the moment of coolness in the terrible heat of the last few days.

When you open your eyes, amazement takes over your body: the sky is not simply blue like the water in the pool you've been in all afternoon, but pink and orange clouds cover it completely; the sun hides behind them, tinges the sky with more intense colors and you feel your soul leave your body at the sight of so much beauty.

The sunset is so mesmerizing that you don't even feel the need to pick up your phone and take a picture of it, it's so beautiful that you're sure not even the best cameras would be able to capture such a marvel.

It’s a pink and orange sunset, bigger clouds are the backdrop to smaller more intense colors and the skyline of the city is slowly tinged with black, the lights of the buildings begin to see each other more and the world slows down as it prepares for the quietest hours.

The sunset arouses familiar, nostalgic, certainly not typical emotions in you; it’s so beautiful that you feel like you are living a dream, you pinch your arm lightly to make sure you are awake but Ashton's laugh reminds you that it is reality and, with that melody in the background, you understand that the difference between dream and reality is not that big.

And even if it were a dream, you know that dreaming never hurt anybody.

As the sunset surrounds you in a warm hug, a small white butterfly begins to flutter around you, spinning around and bringing a smile to your lips. The insect is small, but in the orange sky it stands out in an important way, making you feel like a Disney princess. You stretch your hand up, raising your forefinger and inviting the little butterfly to lean on it and, without fear, it leans on it, resting its wings and showing itself even more beautiful than you thought.

It’s white but at the corners of its wings it has black spots, its gaze seems to be directed towards you as its antennae move delicately. A sense of awe and wonder makes its way inside of you and you slowly bring the butterfly closer to you so you can admire it better, noticing how safe it continues to feel with you.

“Is everything alright?” Sierra asks as she sets the plates on the table, she's too busy to notice how you seem to be in symbiosis with the butterfly.

“Yeah.” You whisper while the insect continues to stay on your finger, motionless, leading you to feel a sense of peace in the moment you are living.

Suddenly, while the blue sky is giving its space to the dark night, the butterfly takes off and, after making another turn around you, heads towards the sky and merges with the lights of the stars.

You walk back to your friends, still confused about what just happened, and you see Michael trying to move the fire bowl to the corner of the pool. “Mike, if I were you I'd be more careful, you're not the luckiest person when it comes to fire.” You smile and you hear your friends laughing out loud as a grin appears on Michael's face.

“Don't worry, Crystal has seen enough tv shows about doctors to know what to do if I get burned again.” He replies looking at his girlfriend and laughing.

“Shut up and come here,” Crystal responds by pretending to be offended. “Dinner’s ready.” her lips try to hold back the smile that is forming on her face.

You sit on your boyfriend's lap while Luke sets the meat on the plates and Sierra pours the beer into your glass. Ashton pushes your hair to the side and kisses you on the neck, giving you goosebumps and getting winks from his friends.

“You’re terrible.” he replies while looking at them and squeezing his hands on your lap, his head resting on your back while he rolls his eyes and smiles. Everyone burst out laughing and the sound of their laughter still feels like the most beautiful melody to you.

As you are about to take your first bite, your phone starts ringing and vibrating inside the pocket of your shorts. You put your fork down and stand up, being careful not to trip over Ashton's feet as he gives you a questioning look. You give him a kiss on his head and you go away slightly from your group so you can hear better.

Your mother's voice is low as you bring the phone to your ear, a smile forms on your face to hear the sound of her voice but the world collapses on you a few seconds later, when her words become understandable while she cries.

The conversation is short-lived, it is mostly made up of your mother's sobs and words you never wanted to hear. Your mouth opens slightly and your heart seems to stop. And when she closes the call, you have a hard time figuring out if you are having a nightmare or if you are still in reality.

“Was that your lover on the phone?” Calum smiles as you stare at your phone screen as soon as you hang up the call. You look up and see everyone's gaze on you as your eyes start to pinch.

“It was my mother,” you take a deep sigh as you try to find the courage to speak. “My grandmother died a couple of hours ago. She's gone and-” and the words die in your mouth.

Your friends' smiles quickly transform as their brows rise and their eyes lose their light. Crystal is the first to hug you, in less than a second her arms are around you but it's all so surreal that you can't even find the strength to move your body. You hear whispers, but your ears are muffled as Ashton takes the place of your best friend and holds you close to his chest, kissing your hair and whispering words of comfort.

It all happens so fast that you struggle to metabolize, it seems to you that the whole world has stopped or is going too fast, it is hard to try to understand as your mind repeats your mother's words all over again.

You talked to your grandmother the day before, you described to her the weather and you told her all the projects you had in mind, including going to see her as soon as possible. She had told you some stories from her past because she knew how much you loved hearing stories from other times and then you said goodbye to her in a hurry because someone had rang the doorbell.

You didn't tell her you loved her and your heart breaks even more at the realization that she left without knowing the affection you felt for her.

Did she know you loved her? Did she know that she was the most important person to you? Did she know you were grateful for all the sacrifices she had made to make you happy? Did she know you were proud of her? Did she know you loved the way she kissed your hands? Did she know how much you cared about her? Or did she pass wondering if you loved her?

If that were the case, you would never forgive yourself.

Part of you, however, is aware that behind those wrinkles and trembling hands, there were years of wisdom and intelligence and that, even when she was sick, she knew that you loved her unconditionally.

You still remember how she was the one who taught you to ride a bike when your parents were too busy working, how her hunched back bent even more as she pushed you along the street outside your childhood house, letting you go on your own when you learned, while still lying to you about how her hands were attached to the bike, to make you feel protected.

You certainly still remember the way she bragged about you, how she proudly used to tell all the ladies at the grocery store that you were her niece, her greatest joy and the best gift she ever received.

And, if you close your eyes and focus, you can still feel the warmth of the old fireplace in her home, of her hands holding yours while your face was resting on her shoulder. You can still hear the sound of burning wood, of her sweet voice singing melodies belonging to past eras while, between one verse and another, her lips kissed your head and whispered words of love.

Most of all, you have memories of how her arms wrapped around your little body when there was a thunderstorm, when the screams inside your house got too loud and when you saw her again after weeks, with your hearts coming back to beat in unison and your lungs beginning to breathe again.

Now that she is gone, who would be by your side? Who would teach you to cook and sew?

You would no longer hear her heart beating when you leaned against her chest, you would no longer hear the sound of her breaths when you slept next to her, you would no longer wake up with the smell of the flowers she grew and, above all, her dry, wrinkled lips would no longer whisper “I love you” to you.

All the fights, all the moments when you were bothered by her calls and all your snorting about the boredom of being with her bring a pang to your heart that tastes of guilt and arrogance, of shame and wasted moments that won't come back.

She was now gone, her heart had beaten for the last time and her eyes had stopped shining and the more time passes, the more her absence starts to hurt.

While your friends are around you to not leave you alone and Ashton hugs you tightly while caressing your hair, everything seems to start to make sense: the butterfly that just moments before had leaned on your hand, the sunset so beautiful and intense - she was there, she was giving you her last goodbye with all the delicacy possible.

She was reassuring you that she will always be there for you, that she will be in the sunsets under which you will fall asleep and that she will be the butterflies that will fly around in the sky, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be alright.

And with this new certainty and a weight in your chest that will slowly go away, you let yourself go, the tears begin to roll down your face and the sobs echo in the silence of the evening, as the stars light up the sky and God gains a new angel.

Ashton knows it won't be easy, that it will be months before that pain will become more bearable and that family lunches and dinners will be harder, that that empty chair around the table will be a stab in the heart every time.

But he also knows that you are strong, that you will be able to overcome everything, that sadness will turn into a smile when you’ll remember her and that, whatever happens, in a way or another, he will always be there next to you, just like your grandma used to be.

—