#I always dread getting to the boots in a drawing and then have a great time

[eusuchia]

at the formal event

[keefwho]

October 25 - 2023 Wednesday

8:12am

I think I'm worried I'm still nourishing an unbalanced dynamic with people. I always used to see myself as the inferior one with friends and I'd put other people on a pedestal. I fear I am still doing that, even though I'm trying hard not to. I try to see myself as equals with people but sometimes their language or admissions suggest I am like a pet to them or that they generally hold power in the dynamic. It might be a case of giving too much as well. Maybe giving even though I don't receive back can give someone the impression that they deserve that from me so it becomes the norm. Then I get treated unfairly despite no one's intention to do so. Maybe I neglect my own social needs too much. I wear a mask and appease others so I can try to ensure they actually like me. I end up sacrificing a lot because it feels like no one is right for me. No one ever sticks. I feel doomed to always be the one giving just so I'm not alone.

3:29pm

As usual this time of day I just feel lonely. I feel hopeless and it's affecting my desire to do literally anything. I don't wanna put in any work if I only have more bland life to look forward to. I'm not sure how to even pretend like there is a better future waiting for me. I really do want to see the positive outcomes of anything I might do. Ideally right now I'd be having fun drawing the things I gotta do but it's hard to do that when I'm anticipating sorrow and misery in the near future.

6:15pm

I'm done drawing and I didn't even have good results. Now I'm lonely, tired, and disappointed in myself. This happens a lot.

10:51pm

This morning I had left over beef rice a roni for breakfast. I was very tired also since I've been losing small amounts of sleep every night for about a week. It's taken it's toll. I got to stream late after napping on my desk. I really didn't want to stream, I felt terrible. I felt like today was going to be like every other. Working on commissions I don't want to do, internally berating myself for not being able to really connect or relate with 570 or the rare others that show up, hoping Daisy will join at some point, and dreading the cleaning/workout I have to do after. I did the commission and the episodes of Mia and He-Man were good. Inktober didn't turn out great.

Afterwards I only had enough time for 30 minutes of wood chopping and a good chunk of that was spend getting a sled and looking for other things. I didn't get much done. I didn't clean too much after either, just my toilet some. In the shower I wanted release. I had a hard time figuring out what to do, I spent way too long in the shower. I bothered Daisy about it and felt bad after because I know she's at work and has a lot of other stuff going on. It's frustrating that we handle this so differently. When I'm under stress, my go to is to nut generally. It helps take my mind off of things and express my emotions in some ways. She seems to stray far from it during difficult times which is fine, just a way that we don't connect. I just don't want it to cause conflict at any point which it shouldn't if we're both understanding about how each other feels.

I didn't have much time for lunch so I made Ramen, a granola bar, and a pear cup. I got to my afternoon work late as well. I also had a hard time getting myself to do it but I found a lofi stream (I usually hate lofi), ambient rain noise, and I hopped in a call while I did today's request and a couple meme drawings that didn't turn out as well as I wanted.

Afterwards I booted up Legendary Tales and decided to stream while I waited for Daisy to be free because at this point I was lonely and just wanted to talk to her. No one showed up which made me feel even lonelier. I also lost my current character and had to start over but I worked up almost to where I was before.

When Daisy was free she worked on her costume for the con while we watched She Ra which is a great show, I'm excited to watch it. We watched the first 3 episodes. While she went to bed I played Cities Skylines. She was holding Rosalina for awhile, her pet rat who is near her time with a massive tumor on her neck. I feel extreme sorrow at her inevitable loss. I feel awful that Daisy is having such a hard time lately. I feel bad that I'm struggling lately too. I just wish I could do more to make things better but that's not my job and it's something I literally can't do. I can't change all the terrible things happening, I can only offer my support.

Lately I've been focusing on making sure I'm not suppressing my feelings again. That means admitting some uncomfortable truths about how I feel about certain things. It means really letting my reactions be how they are. It's scary being unfiltered because I feel like I have problems that WILL scare people away, even though this is a necessary step for me to get past them. I feel horrible that to most people I think I used to be more fun and care free to be around but now I'm so emotional and withdrawn. I feel like I have no social value because I can't really fit into any chill get togethers and I can't seem to actually care about anyone besides Daisy usually. I'm scared because I can't figure out why. I can't figure out why I can't accept new people into my life as friends. I can't figure out why I get so obsessive about things. I feel ashamed at myself and will be crying in bed tonight. But in a way that feels good because usually I try to hold it in or pretend like I should feel okay. Well I'm not okay, I have a lot to cry about. I have extreme amounts of fear and sadness and I have to let them out.

[vera-keller]

Hey I saw that your ships are open and was wondering if I could request one?

I have short dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have pearl earrings currently. I am 5'6. I am also ftm and gay. He/him pronouns

I am currently learning German and Ukrainian. I play the cello (I would say that I'm pretty decent at it). I want to join the paratroopers soon and maybe get a doctorate degree in the medical field. I like writing books, reading, and drawing. I am very interested in history, mainly the 20th century. I also know how to cross-country ski and love the winter.

My MBTI type if I remember correctly is INTJ. I love procrastinating and do well under a lot of pressure. I'm also very stubborn and awkward with talking to people so I don't have many close friends. For some reason, I have a sort of knack for doing things well, even if it's the first time I've tried it and that might be because I listen really closely to stuff to make sure I'm doing everything correctly. I need a straightforward path and a list of things I should do to get something done.

I have depression, anxiety and maybe (I say maybe because it's undiagnosed) maladaptive daydreaming, which basically means I daydream too much that it's a problem. Any small words of affection or reassurance sends me through the roof and makes me happy for the rest of the day (idk why). I also get angry very quickly and forget things quickly.

I am converting to Judaism so that’s cool. My sense of clothing style is just me pretending I’m in the military, pleather jackets, heavy jackets that are either camo or dark green, aviator sunglasses, a lot of neutral colours, fancy dress shirts/blouses, combat boots (which I currently do not own so just tennis shoes or winter boots), I have a few BoB pins which I have created on my own :) I like wearing t-shirts in winter under my jacket just because. The t-shirts usually have designs like aeroplanes, space, and museum shirts. I also have a collection of shirts from places I’ve never been cause I think it’s hilarious. I do a lot of things just cuz I think they’re funny.

I keep a lot of stuff in my pockets “just in case”. I impulse buy, which is a big insecurity of mine. People intimidate me easily so I usually wait to get approached to start a conversation. I like watching adventure shows like extinct or alive or expedition unknown.

 I would say that I have a very dark sense of humour and am almost always sarcastic when talking to my friends (also I love irony). I have an interesting music taste, most any song I listen to goes onto my liked songs on Spotify heh. I sometimes slip into a British accent or one that isn’t mine at all. I also tend to get myself injured at least once daily and now it’s a running joke with my friends.

I don’t really know much about romance, but I try. I don’t like that much physical affection but I do like praise, as I said before, and gifts. I love giving gifts to people.

Thank you!!

hey mister anon i was wondering whether you've been introduced to carwood lipton yet?

that's him looking at you up close to make sure you're real because christ on a cracker you're perfect.

this old boy earned his chevrons as first sergeant of easy company for a good reason. he gets into friendly campus tour guide mode every time he hears someone express interest in joining the paratroopers and he's a seasoned nco at this point, so he's pretty good at telling those who are genuinely committed to seeing through their interest apart from those who blouse their trousers over their boots just because they can. you fall into the former category. that's already one point in his books.

being off to a great start already, the other points come soon enough, quicker than he can count them. as genuinely excited as he is for the possibility that one day soon enough you'll be part of easy company, standing in perfect rank and file with the rest of his comrades-in-arms at camp toccoa after warming up for pt, he almost dreads the day you'll have to set your own clothes aside in favour of the paratroopers' standardised uniform because the way you dress is utterly striking to him. the image of you in your clearly military-inspired getup, your silhouette clean-cut and dashing in the way he imagines only gary cooper or errol flynn or someone worlds away from him can pull off, is burned into his mind as though by firebrand. both the initial sight of it and every time he then proceeds to reconstruct it in his mind following your first meeting bring forth a foreign sensation without a name or shape. it comes in like a tide, washes over him, pulls him under.

he knows he can never dress like you. he doesn't think he can pull it off, but by god do you make a good case for every outfit you put together. the aviators? yum. maybe lip does appreciate a man who knows how to dress himself.

your chemistry and compatibility become palpable facts the more time you spend together. lip is a meticulous planner who relies on structure to get things done. he plans down to to the minute. and he's always been a little in awe of the genius types who can seemingly be on hiatus for days and then get all the work accumulated throughout that time done to an incredulously high standard within hours of it all being due. you're a dark horse, a prodigy, who embodies this archetype right down to your bones. he doesn't resent you for it in the slightest, as you might initially suspect someone with his style of work ethic might do. he finds it an absolute phenomenon to watch and will never even think about asking you to change the habits of yours which fascinate him so endlessly. if you pull an all-nighter, he'll almost certainly go boil the kettle and make you a hot drink. he reads your writing with pleasure and often asks if he can help with organising any notes you might take from your historical research. he makes it a point to research judaism on his own when he learns you're converting. every now and then he worries for your wellbeing, worries that you're pushing yourself too much, but along with his worries comes resolve that he'll be there to catch you if you burn out. having figured out your communication style and working habits fairly early on in your acquaintanceship, he's more than happy to provide you with that straightforward past and to-do list that will allow you to exercise your efficiency to the maximum.

and, in recognition of your brilliance, he asks you to teach him german while you study the language yourself, considering it would be a practical second language to know and everything, given the circumstances. ukrainian is a smidge more difficult for him to master. he intends on making a proper start on it later, perhaps when the war is over. when he asks you good-naturedly whether you'll find some time to teach him then, you understand that it's another way of asking you to stay in contact after europe.

lip is the human embodiment of a packet of twinings superblends tea. his very presence is grounding. he reads your body language, memorises it like code, knows it by heart, by instinct. those big arms of his? yeah, he lifts. your fucking spirits up! he's your number one fan and he's not at all obnoxious about it. when you bend down at the table in the mess hall to pick up some dropped item on the floor, his hand – without him even thinking about it – goes to cover the corner of the table so you don't hit your head on your way back up. he calms your moments of acute frustration with that steadiness of his that you find yourself thinking of more and more even when he isn't there. when your mind begins to take you elsewhere into a daydream that threatens to keep you captive, he alone detects the almost imperceptible changes in your face and brings you back to reality with a gentle and non-intrusive touch. he has a soothing way about him that only serves to elevate 1.) his command abilities in the field and 2.) his ability to connect with you. he gets in all the places you don't expect, finding honesty and vulnerability behind the stubbornness. talking to him is easy because he expects nothing of you and does not hold you to judgement. he's familiar with you and accepts you, and you have nothing to prove to him. that's how it always will be. he makes that clear to you.

perhaps it's the way he always tells you "well done" or "good job" or "you did great", the act of acknowledging and praising you coming easy to him. he is reserved but tender this way, gilding each of your days with reassurance without going overboard with declarations of love and devotion that he's never been particularly good at. perhaps it's the way that, despite his occasional awkwardness with verbalising his deeper feelings, he refuses to be vague about the fact that he cares for you. but falling in love with carwood lipton is natural and slow-seeping, like water into sand, like coming home at the end of a long day.

and, to him, falling in love with you does not come as a surprise at all.

if we're going era-appropriate, then heteronormativity and its associated ugly side are rife in the 40s but lip cannot give two hoots about any of that. he loves who he loves, and either way it's nobody else's business but his own (and the beloved in question). perhaps he might put it in the sense that he falls for a soul and not a gender. so who you are now, who you were before, all of that is you, and he loves you, every single iteration of you that has led up to the man standing in front of him today. he never wavers on this. but – just because of the times you and he live in – he knows the importance of discretion and boundaries. there are subjects that he will only broach with you if you let him, information that he will only seek out if you choose to share it with him first. he's also smart enough to know not to let any of this on in public, but he promises you one night when you're lying next to him, your head on his chest, that the two of you will someday live in a world that will look upon your love with clear eyes.

but if we're not going era-appropriate because fuck that angst and fuck homophobia, then lip shows his love for you in the most gentlest of forms, little gestures imbued with his feelings for you. pda as a concept doesn't really exist to him. he's not a touchy person either and his affection never breaches boundaries in public or in private, but it is never withheld for even a moment should you want it.

and, of course, it is no question that your sense of humour just. straight up fucking baffles him. one might call you various things: the "archbishop of banterbury", an "absolute madlad" or a "menace" are just a few of the many different options available to choose from, and lip is honestly just out here smiling uncontrollably in spite of himself at your antics and right about here is when you get presented with a medal for making the mom friend break character in his complete amusement. besides, even he must admit that "clifford" is most fun to say in a british accent.

he keeps the gifts you give him with him, on his person if possible, but if not then in his footlocker, along with other precious mementos from your relationship. he looks at them often but what he sees in his mind's eye is the two of you, after the war, making a home for yourselves together.

first sergeant lipton is very much in love with you and he's a man who loves without reservation. congrats mister anon! this is the good ending. if y'all want to go ahead and adopt me i'm not saying no

[thornedrose44]

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class. 

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work. 

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there. 

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists. 

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves. 

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront. 

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people. 

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories. 

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten  prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks.  “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again. 

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts. 

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” 

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.” 

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week. 

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork. 

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by. 

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes. 

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life. 

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class. 

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled. 

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.  

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.” 

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either. 

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing. 

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime. 

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant. 

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”  

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs. 

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew. 

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying. 

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope. 

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.  

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.” 

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards. 

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night). 

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most. 

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers. 

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait. 

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

[just-your-emo-sensei]

Hello I hope you’re having a good day, could I request some fluff with (The real ghostbusters) Peter Venkman x reader. Please and thank you☺️

Of course!!! Anything for a lovely reader!! And yes I'm having a good day because I just received my Ghostbuster video game for my ps4! Now just sit back and relax while I give you your order of a Peter Venkman fluff!

I didn't know to make this x female or male so.... I went with (y/g) for "Your gender" hope that works!!!

(B/G) boy/girl

(BF/GF) boyfriend/girlfriend

Title:

Our Special Place~

As the November grey pasted in New York, December white was approaching fast. Winter was the beautiful time of the season as everything was frozen in time as nature took time to restore anything that was damaged or destroyed. As the calls for ghostbusters declined, the more free time they started to get started to get to them. They were workaholics, during these times they dreaded it. But not for one ghostbuster, being only there for 11 months, (y/g) was happy about these decline in calls.

As Ray was baking so sweets, Egon was tuning all their proton packs and other equipment as usual. You, Winston, and Peter was play uno to help past time. Nothing to rough. It was these times you wished last forever.

"Ok, (Y/N) let's see if you top this." Winston gave you that look that you knew so well, that one look he gives you before piling all his best cards on you during Uno. He laid down +4.... 'Great....' you thought. "And I changing the colors to blue as well." He said all while giving his contagious smile. "Hey, Winston don't be so hard on her. Besides do my (b/g) that way and I'll do it back to you, here's a plus 4 all for you and I'm changing the color to red." Peter gave Winston a cheeky smile. "Oh come on man, you always back your (b/g) up during these game man." Winston complained while drawing 4 praying he gets a red card. Now it was your turning. Just as you were about to place a card down, yelling could be heard. The sound of boots pounding on hard wood echoed through the firehouse. As the 3 of you turn your head to the open door, slimer bust through with Ray hot on his trail. The rambling of slimer unknown language went in one of your ear and out the other, he went through your game on the table slimming the cards in the process. Peter was about to yell at the green gremlin until you held his hand, he calmed down immediately when you done that. Till this day he still don't know how you manage to clam his anger down. But he loved you for that, and always will.

"Well that's one way to end a game. Never thought it would happen yet I can be proven wrong." Winston broke the silence, earning a chuckle from everyone in the room.

"Hey Winston want to help me bake more cookies?" Ray asked Winston. "Sure, the game ended anyways." He chuckled while standing up, following Ray to the kitchen.

Now it was just you and Peter. Oh how you love spend alone time with him. Leaning back on the couch, he moved onto the couch with you. Slipping himself between you and the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you onto his lap while layingback in the couch. The warmth he provided was intoxicating. Both of your coveralls keeping the harsh winter cold away from both of your bodies.

"I love you." You told him. He smiled even though you couldn't see it.

"I love you too, (Y/N). Only you can clam me ya know? It feels like you bring to a special place. Our special place... And I love it. And I thank you for that." He admitted to you quietly, his voice was sweet and smooth like honey. Something you always loved to hear. As the warmth lulled you to sleep, Peter smiled softly to himself, wandering how he got luck for having you as his (bf/gf). But he didn't care after all, as long your were in his arms, safe and sound, that's all he needs. Your all that he needs...

The End

[thuranni]

take your hammer, take your anvil, take your very soul

1k, aurora & jorlanna, dread metrol

prior to the events of dread metrol. the dynamic between these two is always so *chef's kiss* with aurora getting excoriated for the same thing that made jorlanna disappear completely from the public eye for years, and i personally love writing aurora getting yelled at. context: aurora has regular check-ins with cannith to make sure she's not getting up to anything stupid or house-disgracing in her excoriation. usually, she's up to both.

"I've been told by a certain source that you were seen out with Corporal Dubois' wife."

"Sure? We knew each other back during secondary education. What, can't I have friends, or is Cannith allergic to that, too?"

"Out with her in a romantic capacity when she is a married mother of two."

Aurora shrugs. "Yeah, sure. I'm helping the woman have an affair. But even you have to recognize this is better than me fucking a Thuranni or something, Jorlanna."

The Baroness of Cannith West peers over her half-moon lenses at Aurora. Any snip about being addressed by the correct title has already been said and ignored; it's apparently easier to drop it than try and make Aurora fall in line.

"But you must recognize the need for subtlety, and a duty not to shame the House."

"Nah, my duty to the House ended when you gave me the boot." Aurora slings a leg over the armrest of her chair, manspreading on a new level, observing the office with exhaustion. Jorlanna's a fan of ships in bottles, historical and non-functional models of old rifles, stylistic paintings he can't identify; his heel taps against the corner of the cherrywood desk. "Anything I can offer now is a favor. Since. Y'know. I'm not a d'Cannith legally anymore. It's not my House."

Jorlanna isn't impressed. "Which hasn't stopped you from using the name regardless of it being stricken from your legal records, has it."

He shrugs. "Force of habit." A lie.

"Regardless of whether or not you owe House Cannith anything, Aurora." Jorlanna's tone sharpens, pen clicking as she fiddles. "You owe it to Mrs. Dubois to be subtle. The Corporal could draw the wrong kind of conclusion from the relationship between you two."

"With all due respect to Aundair's army, which is none, Stuart couldn't see his own dick in front of his eyes."

Her expression remains unchanged, pen clicking away. "Be that as it may, it only takes one informant."

"And it only takes me to thank Stu for his service by getting up in her cervix."

Jorlanna sputters, icy demeanor cracking as she laughs into her hand, the pen silenced. Despite their now four years of back-and-forth antagonism, Aurora feels a little glow of pride in her chest; even for many years before he would have carried that for weeks.

Now, well- she's the executioner and the petitioner staying her own hand. Aurora feels no gratitude as the one on the chopping block, not even considering that Jorlanna is the woman who took Aurora seriously, gave her the necessary recommendations to get her visa to enter Cyre during the war. That died a long time ago. But Aurora can respect the cutthroat in Jorlanna. There's no other way to survive in Cannith, let alone with Merrix and Zorlan as siblings vying for the title of Baron. She is a creature of necessity borne of the House's unending competitive streak.

Aurora wonders if her mother was anything like her cousin Jorlanna as the Baroness drops the pen into a carved wooden cup on her desk, still smiling.

"By the Host, Aurora, stop making me laugh," she says. "I am disciplining you."

"No, I'm fucking hilarious and will not consider it." Aurora crosses his arms. "And it's only a problem if you let a money-grabbing outsider to the House make it a problem."

"Show your father slightly more respect," Jorlanna admonishes. It's enough to make Aurora snort in turn. "I have done a great deal to protect you from the consequences of your actions, but even I can't quell the power of rumor."

"If you'd let that Phiarlan stick around then I wouldn't need you to."

"Aurora Odette."

The entire mood of the room changes as soon as it's out of his mouth, but Aurora sticks to her guns, stares Jorlanna's sudden anger in the eye regardless, arms crossing tighter to his chest. It's true, regardless of how far it is, but bringing up the past- Ripley- is the quickest way to make any meeting with her end in a two-way screaming match.

"I cannot hide rumors that you are a rogue asset that House Cannith is improperly, nepotically favouring rather than removing from service like a malfunctioning firearm." The air between them is hostile and heavy with what's implied, Jorlanna's arms bearing her weight as she leans close and low to try and close their distance.

"Then remove me." She settles back in her seat, unblinking. "What's the big fucking deal, Jorlanna? Do you hesitate like this with all the other excoriates, or just the ones you like?"

"The deal is that I think it would be a shame if you were killed, Aurora."

"Then let Cannith suffer the briefer shame of my death instead of continuing with my disgraceful existence. You won't." Aurora leans in now, uncrossing her arms to lean across the desk back at Jorlanna. "If you wanted me dead you'd have done it on the Day of Mourning. And you didn't do it then, when I was blatantly breaking the Twelve's rules. You're sure as fuck not going to do it now while I help a low-ranking corporal's wife have some fun. No. You want me alive. Why?"

Silence hangs heavy as they lock eyes. Jorlanna looks like she might headbutt Aurora for a moment, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

"You know the risks you're taking." Her voice is icy, but this closely, Aurora can see her concealer hiding the dark circles under her eyes doesn't stand up to scrutiny. "Show discretion. And get the hell out of my office."

He's never going to know why. Aurora white-knuckles the side of the desk. There is too much about House Cannith that she is never going to get an answer to, and he's known that for years, but sometimes he butts right up against the edges of what she's allowed to know and someone is mad at her for having seen the edges themselves and Aurora could go after this house and dismantle it brick by brick sometimes with the anger that bubbles up in her chest.

She settles instead for nicking the pen out of Jorlanna's cup.

"With pleasure, Baroness."

[psychdelia]

christmas used to be billy’s favorite holiday. he loved setting up the tree every year with his mom, matching big smiles on their faces as she carried him to set the star on top. he would help her cook and bake, dance around the kitchen with her. she always surprised him with more gifts than he anticipated, and he would give her a card with messy handwriting and glitter and a drawing of the two of them with i love you mommy scribbled on the bottom.

and then she left and christmas joy was replaced with pain. his father screaming and presenting him with fists instead of gifts. and then max and susan came along and she was their little angel. spoiled with gifts and love while he received nothing but hurt.

billy hates christmas now. hates the holidays in general, but christmas the most. spends all day sulking, curled up in bed and crying. neil gets on him about it, maybe smacks him around before leaving him even worse than how he started. he lost all hope that maybe she’ll come back as a christmas miracle, scoop him up and take him away from all the hurt.

his plan for the day was to stay in bed. avoid the world. but then neil came barging in, demanding billy get off his ass and take max to the byers’ for a christmas party. he was stupid to think that he could catch a break after being forced to ‘celebrate’ with them yesterday, which essentially meant being forced to help susan in the kitchen and watch max get showered in love and gifts while he received nothing.

so he got up. threw on a dark green sweater, tight jeans and boots, still not nearly warm enough for hawkins winter. he silently drove max to the house, only looking at her when she didn’t get out after a minute of being parked.

“what.” billy spoke flatly, his first word of the day.

“come and hang out with us.” max rushed out, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

billy just sighed.

“i’m not really in the mood to hang out with a bunch of snotty little shits, so,” he shrugged. “maybe next year.”

“it’s not just us! nancy and jonathan are there. and mrs. byers and chief hopper! and,” a pause. “robin and steve.” she added on quietly.

“max i don’t really think-“ he was interrupted by a knock on his window. he turned to find a very happy and smiling mrs. byers eagerly waving at them.

“come inside!” she urged as billy rolled his window down.

billy just looked at max and gestured towards the house, ignoring her dramatic defeated groan before she got out.

“you too!” joyce grabbed billy’s shoulder, smile faltering at the way he flinched, her touch unexpected. “max told me you guys already celebrated yesterday. what’s another celebration?”

“i don’t think it’s a good idea mrs. byers.” he replied with a small smile, hoping to charm his way out of this situation.

she sighed. “honey, it’s your second and probably last christmas in hawkins before you go to school back home.” she responded to his shocked expression with a sad smile. “we all figured you’d be applying to schools there. and max might’ve slipped up. don’t be mad at her! she’s just scared to lose you, is all.”

billy frowned and looked down at his hands. he hadn’t even told her he was only applying to schools in california. just trying to graduate and get the hell out of indiana, go back home.

“come on, kiddo. your sister would appreciate it.” a pause. “i’ll spike your eggnog.”

billy sighed, taking a few seconds to contemplate before getting out of the car.

“oh you must be freezing.” joyce rolled her eyes as she tugged at his sweater. “you kids and your fashion. you’re gonna get yourself sick like this. hawkins isn’t california!”

billy snorted. “duh.” he mumbled as she dragged him inside.

billy should’ve expected the stares. the guarded, confused and slightly angry expressions at his presence. he felt small, being glared at by nearly everyone in the room. he wanted to turn around, walk right back out that door. almost did if it weren’t for joyce stopping him in his tracks and holding his arm.

“oh, stop that you brats.” joyce huffed. “it’s christmas. be nice! and if you can’t be nice… no more cookies.” she smirked as they all groaned in protest in unison.

billy didn’t really care about the kids. he apologized to lucas not too long after that night, even agreed to the stupid deal to drive him around town and rev his engine to receive his forgiveness in full. it took him longer to approach steve, though. didn’t have the balls to do it until a couple months before steve graduated. he found him alone in the library, studying to get his gpa high enough to be able to graduate and get his diploma.

“can i sit here?” billy gestured towards the empty chair across from steve, who was glaring at him.

“only if you don’t give me another concussion.”

billy gnawed on his bottom lip as he slid into the seat, staring at the table and avoiding eye contact like a goddamn child.

it took him a minute to finally look up and spit out those two words he’d been meaning to say since that night. but it wasn’t the apologizing he dreaded most, it was the explanation and conversation that followed. he expected steve would ask questions, and shit did he have a lot.

billy kept his answers short, general. didn’t spill too much about all the shit going on in his life and in his head. steve didn’t look satisfied with his answers, but he eventually stopped asking questions. gave billy a stiff nod with a,

“yeah. fine. i accept your apology, i guess. just don’t fuck with me or the kids anymore.”

and that was that. billy kept his distance from them altogether. he occasionally carted lucas and max around for their stupid little dates, teasing them here and there. but it was never malicious.

now he stood right in front of the door in joyce’s house, itching to get out. lucas, max and her friends el and will were the only ones not staring at him apprehensively. the curly haired one was whining, asking why he had to be there, throwing in a few words he was probably too young to be saying. boy wheeler was following suit, making grand gestures and calling him an asshole. nancy looked just as prissy as always, turning her nose up. jonathan avoided eye contact. steve wasn’t quite glaring, but he didn’t look too happy to see him either. just because they were on okay terms didn’t mean they were on great terms. his girl robin didn’t seem too thrilled either.

“i’m just gonna..” billy pointed towards the table filled with drinks and snacks. he walked away as the commotion continued behind him, helping himself to the bowl labeled adult eggnog. he grimaced after the first sip before pouring himself a little more.

it was hard to make himself comfortable. he sat stiff and tense on the edge of the couch, as far away from everyone as he could get. the burn of the rum didn’t do much to heal the hurt in his chest, the pain of abandonment and grief he felt this time every year. he tried to tune everyone out, ignoring the kids yelling as they played video and board games, hopper as he snuck the teenagers more eggnog and beer, joyce as she continued to force feed everyone her christmas appetizers.

he found himself staring at the tree, messily decorated to the brim and a little lopsided. his gaze shifted to the walls, family pictures of just the brothers, then joyce and the brothers, and some including hopper and el. he was unconsciously playing with the chain around his neck, chest getting tighter and tighter. he forced his eyes away from the pictures to find jonathan helping joyce cook and set up dinner in the kitchen, laughing and smiling.

that was his breaking point. he set down his empty cup and sped off to the bathroom, scrubbing at his wet eyes. he shut the door behind him, pacing back and forth, trying to breathe through the lump in his throat. he eventually gave up trying to fight the tears off, a christmas tradition for him at this point. he eventually sat down in and slumped back against the bathtub, closing the curtains and shielding him from the rest of the world. he tuned out the music and chatter from outside, instead hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face in his hands as he cried.

he knew he shouldn’t have listened to joyce. he shouldn’t have gotten out of his car and stepped foot into this house. he should’ve just gone home and lay in bed all day, much less embarrassing than crying in a goddamn bathtub with people right outside.

but here he was, trying to make up for lost time and bonding and memories with max, to show her that he cares and loves her and isn’t going to abandon her like his mother. and yet he was alone, abandoned and abandoning max in just 5 months. his chest hurt as he cried harder, tears freely slipping down his cheeks and staining his stupid sweater. he was nearly wheezing for air, not getting enough in between his sobs.

he must’ve been too loud because he didn’t hear the door open and shut. didn’t even know he wasn’t alone until steve pulled back the curtain, stunned to find him curled up there and crying.

billy wanted to snarl at him, glare at him with a smartass comment about the bathroom being occupied, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was another choked sob.

“shit, man, you don’t look so good.” steve spoke the obvious. “hargrove, you gotta breathe. don’t want you turning blue on me.”

billy turned away, shielded his face with his arms for god knows what. maybe he was expecting a punch, to be told he was a little bitch for crying like this. but all he received were hesitant hands gently prying his wrists away from his face.

“hey.” steve murmured, now only inches away from him. billy didn’t realize he climbed into the tub with him, kneeling before him in the cramped space.

“fuck off.” billy breathed out, all bark no bite, trying to pull his arms away from steve’s grip. but steve didn’t let up.

“why? so you can suffocate yourself to death in mrs. byers’ bathroom?” steve mused, rubbing circles into billy’s wrists with his thumb. “not gonna happen.”

“i don’t need-“ he choked up, words cracking as more tears unleashed. “i don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“i know.” steve let go of his wrists, sitting back against the opposite end of the small tub. billy almost whimpered at the loss. was so glad he could will himself against at least one thing.

“what about a friend?” steve took in the way billy’s eyes shifted towards him, expression guarded. “look, man, you’re graduating and leaving next summer,” how many people had max told? “and you’re obviously going through some shit so i don’t see why i can’t at least try to help you through this so we,” he sighed as he gestured between them. “so we can be friends and not on bad terms anymore because i’m tired of having enemies.” he rushed out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “i know what it feels like to want to leave this shithole, trust me. robin already applied to schools in cali too and i was maybe thinking about going with her and if we end up in the same place then maybe we can all be friends and help each other out.” he rushed out again.

billy just stared at him, bottom lip quivering pathetically. here steve was, offering to be his friend and follow both him and robin all the way to california. he’d be stupid if he didn’t take the offer.

“what? you following your little girlfriend out to cali for her to dump you on your ass like the last one?” billy was never too bright in the friendship industry.

“what? no. robin’s not - we’re not like that. we’re just friends.” steve frowned. “i already applied to some community colleges out there. but this isn’t about that right now.” he waved his hand dismissively. “you gonna tell me what’s up with you now? a secret for a secret?”

billy opened his mouth to try and reject the offer, to tell steve to fuck off again, but another sob wracked his body. he let out a frustrated groan through his tears as he scrubbed uselessly at his eyes.

“fuckin’ hate christmas.” he choked out, grabbing onto the saint necklace. his mother’s. “it-“ a whimper. “it was my favorite. at least until my mom,” he shut his eyes tightly, tears spilling out of the corners. “she just. up and left. left me with no note or explanation and a piece of shit father.” he exhaled shakily. “he beat her. and when she left..” he trailed off, gesturing towards himself. “there were no more fucking homemade pies or trees or gifts. just him. always drunk and angry every christmas, blaming me for her. then max and susan came into the picture and they had their perfect little family. celebrated every year.” the without me went unspoken.

billy hadn’t realized steve was inching closer and closer to him until he looked up from the bathtub and found steve inches away from him again, eyes big and sad as they looked over him.

“what are you-“ billy didn’t get to finish his sentence before he was enveloped in a big hug, the guy squeezing him tightly.

“hugging you.” steve mumbled into his shoulder, forcing billy’s face into the crook of his neck. in no time he was crying yet again, right into steve’s fucking shoulder.

steve was good at hugs. good at comfort. the way he rubbed all along billy’s back, one arm secured around his waist made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t in probably a decade. he let himself go again, freely ugly crying into his expensive and soft christmas sweater, clinging onto the material with weak, shaky fists.

“i didn’t know.” steve finally spoke after a minute. “shit, man, no one knows anything about you. i figured your dad was a hard ass after we talked about the fight but not that bad.” he pulled back just an inch, catching billy’s eyes with his own. “does anyone else know?”

billy shook his head.

“why don’t you tell hopper?” steve frowned. “that’s not normal or okay.”

“no point.” billy shook his head. “i turned 18 in november. can’t do jack shit now but wait until i graduate.”

“then move out.” steve said it like it was easy. like he could afford it, like he had anywhere to go.

billy laughed but it was more sad than humored.

“and where would i go?”

“with me.” steve’s response was immediate, no hesitation. “my dad’s always gone on business trips and my mom’s italian.” he said it like it was self explanatory. billy’s confused expression prompted him to continue. “she can’t stand bad parents and she loves company. you’re another mouth to force feed, too. she makes great pasta.”

billy shook his head. “i can’t just move in with you. what if they say no or-or it doesn’t work.”

“they won’t say no.” steve assured. “come on.” he urged. “it’s just one more semester and then we’re off to the golden coast.” he smiled dumbly. “it’ll work. trust me.”

billy went silent. thought about it for a minute. what it could be like to get out of that house. live and be friends with steve. go back home with him later on.

billy slowly nodded. “okay.” he mumbled. “okay.” he repeated again, louder and solidified.

they’d make it work.

[bluefirewrites]

8 and 45 for juke pls!

8. roommates AU

45. pretending to hate each other AU

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

*****

Julie and Luke collapse onto their couch, both looking worse for wear. But once the door shut behind them, and ensuring that the curtains are drawn, they let themselves relax into each other.

It’s a lot of work, running around and doing what they’re doing, putting on the theatrics to keep the whole world from finding out, but it’s all the more worth it- to come home and be with each other. 

Julie groans, kicking off her boots, not caring where they land on the floor,"One day...we're gonna tell them."

Her statement’s immediately met with a scoff, though it sounds more like a pained wince, given what they just narrowly escaped.

"Oh yeah, that'd be a good idea,” Luke grumbles, tugging Julie closer to him. He just wants to bury his face into her curls and let his worries slip away. 

But Julie, ever the realist, keeps prodding at the dreaded subject. 

“Can we keep this up though?”

“Alright, but what would I say? ‘I've been rooming with the girl who's always foiling our plans’?"

Julie untangles herself from his hold and gives her super villain roommate a pointed look, "They've already met me."

"Yeah. As Julie. They don't know you're Miss Butterfly." He nods at her purple leather get up. 

"But I know them as Alex and Reggie. Not your evil accomplices. Here's to- I don't know- hoping that when they find out, that they'll see me for me,"

The ‘like you did’ is very much there even if it has gone unspoken. 

Luke has to admit, he didn’t take the news very well when he found out about Julie’s identity. 

With the life he’s led- being one of L.A’s most notorious criminals, he’s always moving around, making sure his cover’s not blown. So when he got matched up with Julie on his hunt for a new roommate, he thought he hit the jackpot. 

Works late hours? Rarely home? Friendly but keeps to herself? That way he could keep doing his job. 

Little did he know it’s because Julie was hiding a secret of her very own. 

For Julie, as reputable hero Miss Butterfly, would keep running into Dark Riff and his band of thieves on her rounds. Actually fighting him almost every night. The papers had actually dubbed them as the arch nemeses, which had been true. For a while. 

That was until, they both caught the other one trying to sneak back into their apartment, still suit up no less. 

(The fight on their balcony had been intense- kinda legendary-until they figured it out). 

They had sat at their kitchen table afterwards, nursing their injuries. At point, Julie had tossed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Which was the least she could do since she had given him the black eye to begin with. 

“So what happens now?”

Luke thought that now that Julie knows who he is, she would march him to the station and turn him in. Julie thought the same. 

“Sounds like a morning conversation,” 

And with that they dropped it, and headed to their respective rooms. They spend the whole night ruminating over what happened, trying to grapple with the fact that their lovely roommate had been their arch nemesis this whole time. 

Breakfast the following morning was normal. The sight of Julie, out of her costume, making pancakes for them like usual, is enough to knock some sense into Luke. 

He likes rooming with her. And he likes the area. He doesn’t want to up and move just yet. He could tell that’s the last thing Julie wants too. 

“No one else knows?” Julie had asked him over coffee. No handcuffs, no calls to the police just yet. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” 

“For both of our sakes,” 

And so the arrangement was struck. 

They keep up their hero-villain act at night, but in the day they’re just Julie and Luke, roommates. 

Somehow along the way ‘roommates’ turned to ‘friends’. 

Maybe it started when Julie found out Luke’s background. How he and his friends had been on the streets for the longest time until they joined up with The Magician, the city’s crime boss, and began their life of crime. 

Maybe it started when Luke found out why Julie became a vigilante in the first place. To help those like her mother did, the original Miss Butterfly, until her untimely passing. 

They started to understand each other more, though Julie never fully approved of Luke’s less than legal activities. But Julie has to admit that out of her villain roster, Dark Riff may be the least rotten of them all. He’s a thief but at least he’s not like The Magician (hence his knack for making people ‘disappear’). 

And ‘friends’ eventually morphed into- well... whatever it is they have now. 

On off nights, Luke would be waiting by their balcony, ready to tend to Julie’s injuries if necessary. On one memorable occasion, he pressed a kiss to her bandaged knuckles, with a warning to be careful next time. Julie must have turned a few shades redder from that simple act alone... 

And there was another time when Reggie’s cover was about to be blown, the closest he had ever been to getting caught by the police, and Miss Butterfly had ‘accidentally’ left her knife behind, which helped him escape. 

Luke had returned the knife to her, grateful. Because if anything were to happen to his boys-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She merely said, “And is it your turn to pick the movie or mine?” 

He smiled and chose Dirty Dancing. Her favorite. They end up snuggling into each other on the couch. 

Then It happened at a museum heist. Finally. After nearly half a year of them living together. When she spotted him on the roof, humming that song he’s been working on- music being his true passion, much like hers. 

And so she kissed him, the skyscrapers and night sky as their backdrop, the wailing security alarms as their soundtrack. 

How romantic. 

Another secret to keep. 

Julie knows it’s been tough on Luke, hiding this, hiding her, from Alex and Reggie- who had nearly walked in on their personas making out an hour earlier before Julie took action and swiped at Luke’s feet and initiating a well convincing fight. (They always pull their punches). 

Now they’re back in their apartment and Luke is tired.

"Look, Julie. I want to tell the guys. Really. But it's not Alex and Reggie that I'm worried about,"

"The Magician doesn't scare me," Julie assures. 

He bristles at the mention of his ‘boss’, "I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't the bubble to pop. And he for sure would pop it."

If Caleb found out that he’s with Julie, then he would for sure exploit it. Blackmail, threaten her loved ones, not to mention what would be waiting for Luke since he had elected to keep this vital information to himself. 

"Or maybe you could... leave the life of crime behind?” Julie throws out there. She bats her eyelashes at him, “Join me?"

"But being ‘bad’,” He mimes the air quotations, “is all I've ever known.” 

“You’re not bad,” Reaching for his face, Julie peels the domino mask off of him, “You’re...” 

Luke leans in, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m what?” 

“You...” Julie does the same, but as she nears, her face puckers into a sour expression and recoils, “You reek!” 

Luke pouts, sniffing his own leather garb, “I don’t smell that bad!” 

“We fought at a cannery! You smell like fish”

With a chuckle, he ignores this and wraps his arms around her. She squeals. 

“No, no, no- ew! Luke!” 

Luke takes it a step further and tickles her into submission, and so now that he’s hovering over her on the couch. 

“I guess I found out Miss Butterfly’s weakness then,” he smirks before he kisses her.

Julie’s hands weave into his hair, drawing him closer, and with a smirk of her own, still in the kiss, she tugs on the strands, making Luke gasp and pull away. She takes the opening and rolls him off of her. 

“And I know yours,” she retorts. 

Luke groans, “Not fair,”

“You started it!” She sticks her tongue out at him and points to the hallway, “Go take a shower!”

“And then Great British Bake-Off?” 

Julie smiles, “Yes.” 

“Sweet,”

They both take their turns getting cleaned up. Now, costumes off, back to being Julie and Luke again, they flip on the TV. 

“One day,” Luke says as they scroll through Netflix, “One day we’ll figure this out. And we won’t have to hide anymore.” 

“Yeah,” Julie agrees, “One day. But for now, for me, this is good.” 

“Me too,” 

credit to @lydias--stiles for their super hero/ super villain names. 

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 10)

Previously on LBitR...

“Calm down,” Lena whispers, even though she’s having trouble doing exactly that at the sight of the empty bench where she had left Kara waiting not even an hour ago.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Alex hisses; the muzzle of her gun dis rather painfully on her back, and Lena would really like to step away from it, but the agent has her arm locked in a vice grip. “Where the hell is she, Lena? She was here when I followed you in!”

“Walk with me,” Lena says, quickly scanning the area--they’re standing in a stiff, unnatural way, and the last thing she wants is to draw any attention, especially when they’re both wearing stolen LuthorCorp lab coats right outside the building. She takes one tentative step away, hooking her arm around Alex’s as if they were just friends walking down the street arm-in-arm.

Thankfully, Alex understands Lena’s not-so-subtle hint faster than Kara ever could; her image-induced expression relaxes into a smile that barely looks forced, and her grip of Lena’s arm, though still tight and borderline painful, shifts so that it appears more casual.

“Is there any way you could have been followed?” Lena asks, subtly looking around them, noting that Alex is doing the same.

“That’s always a possibility,” Alex admits, sounding both panicked and defeated at once. “But I was very careful.”

“OK, let’s not panic yet,” Lena tells both Alex and herself. “Kara and I made plans to rendezvous back at the motel if I was gone too long or if anything happened.”

Alex gives her a look--it’s weird to have a patented Alex-Danvers-look-of-disapproval coming from a stranger’s face. “You weren’t gone for long, though.” She doesn’t voice the alternative.

Unthinkably, Lena reaches out and gently pats the hand on her arm. She means for it to be reassuring--it’s the kind of thing she would do for Kara--the kind of thing she has been doing for Kara over the last couple of weeks, but Alex looks just as puzzled by the action as Lena is.

She removes her hand and clears her throat. “Still, our best bet is the motel. Did you drive here?”

Alex nods. “Great,” Lena continues, mind already working a mile a minute. “Kara probably took the bus back--we didn’t want the car to be seen downtown,” she explains, and Alex lets out an undignified snort.

“That’s remarkably sensible of you,” she quips sarcastically. Lena ignores her.

“What I’m saying is, if you drove here and we take your vehicle, we may beat Kara to the motel, or get there shortly after her. It’s one hour from LuthorCorp to the motel by bus--she’ll switch routes at least twice on the way.”

Alex looks impressed despite herself. “And if she doesn’t show, what then, genius?” she challenges, lips pursed.

Lena breathes out steadily, calmly. “She will,” she says with as much conviction as she can possibly muster in her tone, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.

Alex smacks her lips, slowing her walk as she considers their limited options. “Fine,” she finally concedes, dragging Lena down an alleyway.

They dispose of their lab coats in a trashcan in that same alley, and Alex practically hauls Lena towards a secluded spot behind down another alley a few blocks away.

“You better hold on,” she says, removing a few strategically placed cardboard boxes to reveal a sleek black motorcycle, discreetly parked behind a dumpster. “I did not bring an extra helmet.”

Lena does hold on, mainly because Alex weaves and cuts through traffic like an absolute manic as she follows the directions Lena has to practically shout in her ear as they go. She knows Alex is desperate to find Kara and make sure she’s OK, but Lena also wishes she would ease off the gas a little; she’s got enough to be afraid of at the moment.

She feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest when they finally reach the hotel; they’re nowhere close to the room she and Kara had checked into, but she’s already fumbling in her purse for her key card. with Alex hot on her heels.

They stumble into the room together, and Lena has to stop, has to take a second to try to stop the cold dread she immediately feels at finding it empty, exactly as they had left it this morning.

Alex begins pacing like a caged tiger immediately. “She’s not here,” she gasps, tapping at the image inducer at her temple, and then it’s Alex, really Alex, looking worried and panicked and slightly disheveled in this empty room, and now Lena is belatedly realizing it’s up to her, Supergirl’s would-be killer, to try and comfort the hero’s sister while they wait.

As if she is not on the verge of a panic attack herself.

“We knew she wouldn’t be,” she tries to reason, keeping her voice as even as she can, though she can’t stop tugging at her fingers out of sheer nervousness.

She’s doing the math in her head, thinking of the bus schedules, of which one Kara probably had gotten on and when; she’s mapping out the routes in her mind, considering the usual trip times, factoring in the average Metropolis traffic at two in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Alex takes one look at Lena’s fidgeting hands and immediately sighs, sinking into one of the beds. “Take that stupid wig off,” she barks. “Blonde you is freaking me out.”

That lets out a little chuckle, but it feels like some kind of hysteria. She takes a seat on the opposite bed, and Alex regards her quizzically.

“Kara said something similar yesterday,” she explains, carefully removing the wig and setting it on the nightstand. “That’s too bad; I really thought I was pulling it off.”

The attempt at humour falls completely flat--Lena can see it plainly in Alex’s wooden expression. “You definitely weren’t,” she deadpans. Her knee is bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down, boot tapping dully on the carpet.

It’s driving Lena insane.

“Kara will be here soon,” Lena says, still tugging at her fingers. Alex doesn’t look convinced. 

“And if she doesn’t?”

Lena has no answers to that, refuses to consider the possibility.

“She will,” she says again, in an almost silent whisper, for her own comfort. “She will, she will, she will.”

Alex says nothing, only continues with her bouncing knee, keeps her gaze locked onto Lena. And Lena, Lena tries not to squirm under the agent’s scrutiny; she fidgets, she stares at the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock, steals glances at the door--she looks at anything and anywhere to avoid Alex’s gaze.

When Alex does speak again, her voice is low, but it still startles Lena enough for her to jump a little in surprise.

“What do you remember about that day, Lena?”

When Lena turns to face her, Alex’s eyes are as hard as stone. Her scowl has returned, and the way her brows are furrowed is far more telling than the cold tone of her voice. It says, plain and simple, I don’t trust you.

It takes Lena a long time to come up with an answer Alex may find even remotely satisfactory--she knows that ‘I don’t know’ that is on the tip of her tongue simply won’t cut it, even if it is the honest answer. Her memories, the few that she does have from that day, are murky and sparse, and don’t feel altogether hers.

She struggles to recall any details, searches the blurred images interred somewhere in her subconscious and tries to make sense of the tangled mess she has been left with. “Flashes,” she tries, settling for as much truth as she can muster at the moment. She swallows. “I remember... I remember Kara falling--I remember seeing her from the top floor at LuthorCorp.”

Alex raises a brow like she doesn’t fully believe her. “The top floor?” she asks, voice oddly neutral. “Not from the basement labs? You didn’t watch it from the screens?”

Lena furrows her brows, tries to poke at whatever remnants of memory she has latched on to. “No, I don’t...” she closes her eyes, sees Kara falling, riddled with green, her body limp falling past her windows as fast as a bullet. “I-I don’t think so, I was... I think I was at the top floor.”

“You were apprehended in the basement, Lena,” Alex says brusquely.

“N-no, that can’t be right,” Lena chokes out, but all she sees behind her lids is Kara’s body falling, and her mind provides the most horrifying sound effect as it hits the pavement. “That can’t be, I watched her fall, I w-watched from my window.”

Alex shakes her head. “What do you remember before the rockets?”

Lena rattles her brain with difficulty; her lungs can’t quite return to their normal rhythm with the images her mind is supplying. “Before?” she gasps, keeping her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to wither under Alex’s unyielding disappointment and doubt.

“M-myriad, the, um, the Fortress, ah... I was there with K-kara, and--”

She’s close to hyperventilating; she can’t get the image of Kara’s body--her bloody, broken body falling, falling--out of her mind.

“The Fortress? Lena that was two weeks befo--Lena? Lena, are you OK?”

Lena can’t respond--she can’t speak, she can’t even breathe. her brain is giving her the most terrifying flashes of memories, memories that don’t feel like her own, and she’s scrambling to fill that gaps at the same time as the images come, unbidden, to her mind. Her mental boxes are teetering, swaying in their little organized, compartmentalized stacks, unbalanced, and she can’t, she can’t breathe.

“Shit,” she vaguely hears Alex say, marginally registers the agent rushing to her side, but then someone is touching her and there is another flash--it is white hot and painful in her brain, like an electric shock, and she feels someone grabbing at her shoulders, pushing her down hard, pulling, and dragging, and, and--

Lena yelps and recoils, bats away at the hands reaching for her shoulders in uncontrollable, all-consuming panic.

“HEY!”

It’s another voice, worried, coming from someone bursting through the door with force, nearly slamming it off its hinges. Lena’s only somewhat aware of Alex yelling--she sounds happy, surprised, worried, and a whole gamut of other things Lena cannot focus on, because suddenly, there’s just warmth all around her.

She’s being held, tight, tight, tight, but it isn’t restrictive--it’s the opposite, warm and comforting and it envelops her almost entirely, like a heavy blanket, muting the sounds of her own frantic heartbeat.

“Sh, Lena, it’s just me. You’re OK. I’m here, I’m here.”

It’s Kara’s voice--low in a soothing murmur, rumbling in her chest as she whispers right at Lena’s ear, and the vibrations are soft, reassuring, and tranquil, almost enough to ease Lena’s trembling.

She’s wrapped tight in Kara’s arms as her awareness returns, slowly and fuzzy. Kara’s hand rubs circles on her back, and Lena instinctively tucks her head under Kara’s chin, seeking more of her warmth. Kara is taking deep, deliberate breaths, and Lena finds herself subconsciously trying to match them at every inhale and exhale, using the pressure of the rise and fall of Kara’s chest against hers as guidance.

When the flashes cease, she dares open her eyes again. Over Kara’s shoulder, her gaze locks with Alex, who’s awkwardly standing to the side, watching them closely.

“OK,” the agent says, gaping a little. “What the fuck?”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

<< Previous || Next >>

[ravenluvsppnbc]

Tattoo parlor au

thanks for the request! i hope this is suffice. <3

Chloe woke up on Tuesday, nerves filling her body. The sun had just risen. The birds were chirping and flying around in circles through the sky. Chloe’s alarm had woken her at eight. She took a cold shower, wishing not to waste the hot water, and was drinking a warm latte just ten minutes after. She watched the morning news, mumbling curses at the political pieces. By the time she was dressed, the news was playing a puppy segment. She smiled, switching off the television when it was done. She left the apartment by ten.

The redhead walked down the street to meet her two best friends. Aubrey and Amy were standing on the block corner, waving obnoxiously. Today was the day Chloe had been waiting for with nerve. It was also the day Aubrey had been dreading. Amy was very excited. They would be getting tattoos. Matching tattoos. The three girls had become a “groupe de trois” in college when they joined an a cappella group. Chloe and Aubrey were already years into college when freshman Amy met them.

They decided to get matching tattoos weeks ago. Today was finally the day. Aubrey leads the others to her car, which she had parked in a carpark an hour prior. The girls laughed, driving to the only tattoo parlor that Aubrey had approved. Aubrey could be a bit picky, but it balanced out Chloe’s open mindedness and Amy’s boldness. The three pulled into the lot at 11:50, which Chloe thought was perfect. Aubrey thought that they were late. Their appointment was at noon.

Chloe’s boot clomped against the ground as they entered the shop. Aubrey was taken aback by the soft rock that filled her ears as the door shut behind them. A little man with long hair peeked his head over the desk. He had a sleeve of skulls, and a nose ring. Amy walked closer to the desk and said, “Hi, we’re here for some tats.”

“Did you have an appointment already?” Little man asks.

“Yeah. We’re supposed to be scheduled for noon.” Aubrey chimes in, stepping closer to the desk.

“Alright perfect. Uh Beca is just finishing up with somebody at the moment and then Jackson is just hanging out in the back. We’ll get going in a minute.” The man said, standing up and walking back.

A guy, who Chloe assumes is Jackson, walks to the front desk and takes Aubrey to the back. Chloe and Amy stand at the front, listening to the music. A brown-haired woman in a leather jacket and doc martens walks out of a curtain with front desk man and another guy in a black tank top. Chloe can’t stop staring at this woman, who she assumes just got a tattoo. Only now, Chloe realizes, the woman jumps behind the front desk and looks at the computer. Amy walks to the back with the small man, waving.

“You’re also getting one?” The woman asks, making eye contact with Chloe.

“Yeah.” Chloe mumbles bashfully, as the other woman scans her body.

“Alright, I’m Beca” The woman says, grabbing Chloe’s hand, “Come on then.”

Beca leads Chloe to the back of the tattoo shop where theres a black curtain hanging from the ceiling. She helps Chloe into the chair. Chloe scans the space. Beca has band posters on the walls, a record player in the corner. “OO Oasis,” Chloe says, pointing to the wall, “I love them.”

“Yeah,” Beca says, sitting down on a chair, getting out a tattoo gun and ink. She spins her chair towards Chloe with a smirk. “So are you gonna tell me what your name is?”

“Oh, sorry. Just nervous that’s all. Uh. I’m Chloe.”

Beca smiles. “Don’t be too nervous,” she says, turning around to prepare the equipment, “You’re really pretty, whatever you get is gonna look dope.” Chloe smiles, blushing.

After a moment of silence, Beca speaks up again, brushing the previous comment off of her shoulder. “So what were we thinking of getting?”

“Oh I’m thinking something simple. I want it to say, ‘Bella’ and then I want to put a burrito next to it.” Chloe says.

“Well I do hope that you and Bella stay together for awhile. This one might be a little hard to explain.” Beca says, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh it’s not a relationship tattoo-”

“Oh I’m sorry. I totally just-”

“No it’s cool. It makes sense that you’d think that,” Chloe says, giggling. “My friends and I met in college. We were in an a cappella group called ‘The Bellas’ and then a guy threw a big ass burrito on one of them. So. That’s what that is.”

“So,” Beca says, sitting back down, “No burrito-obsessed girlfriend named Bella?”

“Nah.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Beca turns to Chloe to show her some sample stencils. Chloe really likes all of them, even though it is very hard to take a burrito seriously. Chloe points to the one on the left, and Beca tosses the other one onto the table. “So where do you want this thing?”

“Well I don’t really know. I was thinking maybe my shoulder. I don’t know where they’re getting theirs.”

“Shoulder sounds good. I can put a stencil there so you can see what it looks like.” Beca says, printing a second stencil. “Which arm?”

Chloe points to her left. “Do you want me to move my shirt?” She says, nervously fumbling with the hem of her sweater.

“Only if you’re comfy with it, but I don’t know how great I can do it through this. It is recommended.” Beca jokes, before Chloe pulls her top off entirely. Beca gasps, her eyes lingering on Chloe’s toned abs. Beca curses herself. She shouldn’t be flirting with a client.

Beca places the stencil onto Chloe’s left shoulder, and grabs the mirror to show her. “That looks great.”

“Alright, then we can get going. Do you want some tunes? I have a record player back here, you can pick something. But beware. It sounds super hipster coming outta that thing.” Beca says, pulling Chloe in the direction of the record player. Chloe picked Nirvana.

“Good choice.”

Chloe’s eyes follow Beca as the brunette went to the sink to wash her hands. She throws her leather jacket to the chair next to her, revealing a sleeve of patchwork. “Oo. Did you do those yourself? I love that.”

“Some of them,” Beca says, wheeling a cart over to the chair, “What’s your favorite?”

“I like this one,” Chloe says, pointing to a skull with Hozier lyrics next to it.

“Yeah I did that one. I like the skull, but the song isn’t as meaningful as it was when I did it.” She explains, chuckling. “Don’t do song lyrics.”

“Noted.” Chloe mumbles.

“Ready?” Beca says, hooking up the machine.

“Yeah.” Chloe says, exhaling.

Beca reaches for Chloe’s arm, and grabs the machine. Chloe scans over Beca’s sleeve, looking at each tattoo. After a few minutes, Chloe mumbles, “Shit.”

Beca immediately takes the needle away, and sits back in her chair. “Everything okay?” She asks quickly.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something. Didn’t mean to spook you or anything. It’s all good.”

“Alright.” Beca says, moving back towards the redhead. She continues tattooing, looking up at Chloe each time she felt her tense up. At one point, the redhead moved Beca’s hair out of her face. Beca swears that she saw Chloe bite her lip. The brunette blushed and continued working on Chloe’s arm. Chloe knew what she was doing, and she liked it.

“Okay, I’ll get started on the burrito now. Just to be clear—you wanted a line drawing? Like not shaded in?” Beca asked, moving the needle away from Chloe’s arm.

“Yeah that sounds perfect.” Chloe said.

After a few more minutes of tattooing, Beca tilted her head to the side, running the needle along Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe caught a whiff of Beca’s perfume. She was intoxicated by it. The slight woodsy scent, but not campfire. The sweet scent made Chloe’s mind wander. “Oh my god. What perfume are you wearing? I literally. Like. I just want to keep smelling you. That sounds weird. What is it?” Chloe said, stuttering over almost all of her words.

“Well. Thanks. It’s ‘Sappho’ by Lush. All the girls love it.” Beca said with a wink.

“So that’s the goal?”

“Not always, but it’s appreciated.” Beca flirts, smiling, wiping a towel over Chloe’s shoulder.

“Do you flirt with all of your clients?”

“No. I’m really not supposed to. But you’re making it a little hard at the moment.” Beca says, blushing as she cleans up the cart.

“Oh. Sorry.” Chloe says, feeling a little ashamed.

“Don’t be sorry. I like it,” Beca flirts, writing on a few papers. “Here’s your guide to having a tattoo. Basically what you should and shouldn’t do. And something you should do—uh. My number. It’s in there. I don’t know what you’re into but I’d love to take you out.”

“I’ll definitely call you.” Chloe says, leaving the space.

She meets Amy and Aubrey back at the front, where they compare tattoos and pay. Chloe leaves a nice tip. She makes eye contact with Beca, who is now standing behind the desk, as she exits the shop. Beca sends her another wink.

When Chloe gets into the car, she opens up the paper to find Beca’s number written neatly with a signature next to it, and a heart. She adds Beca’s number to her phone, as they drive away.

[mxvladdy]

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

  You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed.  The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”  

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him.  “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?" 

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

[purplesurveys]

1560

Do you own any knee-high boots? No, not my style. I was really into them as a teenager, but since I live in a super conservative country I couldn’t really wear them in public unless I was confident enough to survive all the inevitable stares. At some point though I grew out of the look.

Do you like swimming in lakes? No. Lakes are not common here to begin with.

Have you ever tubed down a river? I don’t know what this means but in any case I’ve never hung around rivers much; we don’t have lots of them here, either.

Have you ever kissed a dog on the mouth? Plenty of times. Doesn’t gross me out for the most part.

Are you accident prone? Quite, yeah. For some reason I always happen to knock over drink-filled glasses around my co-workers, so that’s been an inside joke and they ceaselessly give me shit about it. Outside of that I’m just generally clumsy.

How many squares of toilet paper do you use at a time? 5-6 at most.

Have you ever had acupuncture done to you? Nope. Needles – automatic no.

Are you a menace to society? Uh, I wouldn’t go ahead and say that.

Do you eat regurgitated bee food? Almost never.

Do you play hopscotch? Not these days, but I definitely liked drawing on the ground and playing it as a kid. In the Philippines we call it piko :)

Are you jealous of beautiful people? I’m envious largely towards the pretty privilege that undoubtedly comes easy to them, not so much their physical looks.

Are you foolish and naive? I can be pretty naïve and innocent still, yes.

Do you play with the food on your plate? No.

Do you know any eunuchs? Uh, I don’t think so.

When you were born was the umbilical cord wrapped around your neck? As far as I know, no.

Drums or flute? Drums.

What do you dread? The scenario of never resigning from my current job. Man, I really need to get that done sometime in the foreseeable future lol.

What do you look forward to? In the short-term, Tuesday - my dad is coming home and I got assigned to pick him up from the airport, so I’ve finally gotten a valid reason to file a leave ;)

Have you ever taken a mud bath? I haven’t. Sounds like something I’d love to try at least once!

Can you twist your tongue upside down? what about sideways? Sideways, sure. I tried doing upside down now but my tongue just ended up hurting, lol.

Have you ever tried to photograph a ghost? No.

Do you have nude photos of yourself posted on the internet? No.

Do you have a guilty conscience? About some things, yes.

Would you enter a burning building to save a kitten? If I feel like they were accessible enough/there’s enough time to get back in there and pick the kitten up, yes.

Are you considered “normal”? I consider myself as pretty basic, yep. The whole “I’m not like other girls” narrative is a huge fuckin bore anyway.

Do you want to skydive? Only if I had an expert strapped to my back and if they were handling absolutely everything, and all I had to do was scream and have fun lol.

Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John? If we’re talking just name preferences, Luke. But if we’re talking about the four Gospels, I used to be intrigued by John’s the most since his was written much differently than the others. 

Do you like avocados? I actually do, yes.

Have you ever been told that you talk too much? No. I feel like I’d take that personally and that such remark would stick, but since nothing comes mind then my guess is I haven’t been told this.

What’s the worst name you’ve ever been called? Don’t feel like racking such bad memories in my head.

Do you like to party? Sure, as long as the crowd is alright, the music is great, and I’m with people I’m comfortable with. Parties can be so dull if even one of these things is off.

Do you like to clean? The process itself can be tiring but the end result makes it worth it.

What did you learn today? Jin is gonna be on Running Man, heh heh. I’ve always been more of a 2 Days 1 Night girl, but I’m excited nonetheless! I’m so happy he’s gotten to be in variety shows before enlisting; he’s always been a natural at them.

Have you ever been hazed by an upperclassmen? Nah.

[dinthehottotty]

A Thing About Silver (Part 2)

Summary: You face Din after sleeping with Cobb, partially out of spite and fight with Mando. 

Warnings: Angst, smut, gratitious smut. So much. More creampies. Unprotected sex. This is fanfiction. USE PROTECTION. Slight Dom!Din

A/N: I enjoyed writing this wayyyy too much. Good luck. Also I rushed a little bit towards the end cause I’m tired.

Part 1

Mando was moved on to cleaning his blaster now, still waiting. It made you sick.

Ducking your head, you shuffle through the sand and don't bother to look at him as you approach the little dome. He doesn't say anything as you climb the steps he sits on and wordlessly move toward the building.

Sleep called for you.

Leather snatches your wrist, not delicate at all. "Look at me," he manages. It's got no bite. No edge. It's soft and coaxing. Too sweet for your eager ears because now tears are welling in your eyes again at the shame. Immediately you know the truth of things. There is no illusion that you've truly and sorely fucked up. The worry in his voice twists you apart. Would you ever be able to repair the shot your hurt pride took?

Instead you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back, desperately hoping that he won't insist. But it's Din. "Please, look at me," he begs. The attempt to steel yourself and stand your ground crumbles like the sand in your boots.

"I can't," you manage, voice breaking harshly. "Let me go." You pull your hand away and trudge into the little room he'd rented. The child was long since passed out in his floating crib. There was a tiny kitchenette in the corner, one that had been cleaned but a bowl still sat at the table. Then there was a bed and a sofa. Toward the back sat a door, you assume to the 'fresher.

You can hear Din following behind you, heavy boots making the floors creak. "You should eat something," he tries, voice turning tense but he's still just as soft as before. Instead of listening, you move toward the sofa and sink down on it, the fresh tears hot on your cheeks.

There is a split second between when he moves around and sees the tears, and him reaching for you. "Don't," you rasp.

"Did he hurt you?" He snarls, despite his gentleness of his hands flutter over you.

"No," you snap back at him. Finally glaring deep into the visor of his helm. It lasts only a moment. "No, Din, he didn't do anything wrong." You sniffle and fixate on a spot on the wall, then stop fighting the urge and curl in on yourself. How could you sit here and feel sorry for yourself when you'd ruined everything so easily. All for a quick fuck. (Well, not necessarily quick.) You'd pushed and prodded, always hoping for a different reaction but deep down, you'd always known the truth. Din didn't love you in that way.

He paces across the floor in front of you, very quiet, very anxious. Despite feeling the increasing anxiety from it, you decide to push it down. Your own frustration twisting and tightening like a coil. The air was heavy.

That is until your eyes fall on the floating cradle in the corner. Your heartaches, you weren't just losing Din. The kid would go with him.

You had two options. This was an ugly sore that neither of you could ignore. Should you try to resolve it now? Best case, you ride out this wave of shame and stick with Din and the child. They were home to you, but you'd be subjected to the truth that Din would never love you in this way. Trust was probably broken and until you both had mended from the hurt of the situation, the ship couldn't sail smoothly. You'd have to learn to not love Din in that manner, if that was possible. You fear that it would make you bitter. How long would you be staying with Din? Until the kid was gone? Would he be okay after he'd delivered him? Should you both spend the next few nights thinking and settling on your stupidity or would that just encourage further brewing? You didn't know if you could trust yourself to stay level headed or not burst into wails if Din so much as raised his voice.

But you needed it. You need him to scream at you about your recklessness. You needed to be shamed because how could you possibly take Din being this sweet and worried about you. Bile worked it's way up from your stomach, fighting with burning fingertips.

His pacing froze, seeming to watch you with distress, but you couldn't tear your blurred eyes from the levitating bassinette.

"Are you going to leave me?" He asks, his voice much firmer than before.

"I..." You start but slowly trailed off. There were too many words in your head. It was muddled and confused. In the very center of it was the enormous weight of shame and guilt. The utter dread cored from them but gravitating all of the negativity that surrounds your situation. It was tossing you in the oceans of panic, you were drowning. Din's anxiety was driving him to go rigid.

The idea of going to sleep was teasing you. Your eyelids were heavy. What time was it even? It was an empty thought. You wouldn't sleep. Just chasing your tail endlessly.

Din is moving between you and the kid and you realize the possessive tone his voice had carried. The real question was he wanted to ask was 'are you going to try to steal my child?' and he had obviously taken that as a threat. How this must look, you gazing longingly at the sleeping babe in his cradle and not giving the man a true answer.

Your eyes move up the curves of beskar that blocked your view of the little one. More hurt is rising. He wasn't worried you'd leave. He was worried you'd take the wrinkly green baby. Somehow you felt the need to blame the metal that separated him from you. You didn't normally curse the only think that had kept him alive this long, but it seemed to mock you like in Cobb's hut. It spurs a dangerous thought.

If Din wanted to fight, you'd fight.

"Wouldn't you like that? Like me to just walk away?" You hiss, rising off the couch to stare at him. Din's helmet doesn't waver a bit as you close in enough to see the puffiness of your eyes.

"Do you want to walk away?" He snaps back.

"Wouldn't that be easier!" You give a sarcastic laugh. "One of your problems could just walk away! Just say it! Just say you want me to leave you alone!" You shove at his chest weakly.

"Stop," he orders sharply. "You don't know what your talking about."

"Really!? Are you kriffing kidding, Din?"

"You need to eat and go to bed."

"Do you somehow have this sick notion that I'm your kid, too? Because I'm not! I am not a child! I am a hurt, angry, and frustrated adult woman!"

Din places his hands on his hips and towers over you. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Where are you even getting these ideas?"

"You treat me like a kid! I'm trying to show you I'm not one!"

"Well, you're acting worse than one right now!" He snarls through his modulator. You grit your teeth at his response. That one hurt. You knew it was true, the spotchka from tonight had left early tonight. It hadn't been enough to truly get you drunk.

"I have no problem listening to you when you give me a damn reason! Just fucking explain things!"

"I don't want to argue with you." He resolves.

"THERE IT IS!" You nearly screech. "That! You barely give me any scraps! You are so fucking hard to read sometimes and I fucking hate it! All I wanted was you to tell me 'no' tonight but instead you just stared! YOU JUST WATCHED ME WALK AWAY!" Din's visor drops at that. It's not trained on you, but off to the side, down towards the floor. "I COULDN'T EVEN ENJOY IT BECAUSE YOU WERE FUCKING THERE THE WHOLE TIME LIKE SOME DEVIL!" You break, sobbing.

His head twists up. "What?"

"You just stare and mock and-"

"I have never mocked you," he butts quieter than before.

"Why didn't you say 'no'?" You snap, eyes blazing, needing an answer.

He only gives you silence. You squeeze your lips into a hard line in the deafening scream of it. Shaking your head, you twist away. "Fucking great," you mutter to yourself.

A hand reaches tentatively for you, it brushes over the underside of your wrist and onto your palm. "What do you mean I was there?" He asks softly.

"You don't get to do that," you warn him, drawing your hand away again. Normally, you would blissfully sunk into his rare touch but you couldn't shake off the fire that was filling you. Guilt was nagging the back of your mind, knowing you were punishing good behavior. It was fruitless. He didn't want to touch you like that. "You don't get to answers from me while avoiding your own. That's not fair to me!"

Din sighs, turning his head to the side. "I'm... I'm not always good... with words." That one hurts more than you expect to. This man was bound to carve you up and spit you out.

You stop, turning your head towards him. You can see him shift his weight, stepping closer. He's standing right behind you. For the millionth time, you wished that fucking armor wasn't blocking his expressions from you.

"I... don't, just so you know."

"Don't what?"

"Want you to leave."

"Why don't I believe that?" You prod, still feeling antagonistic. Din steps closer, he grasps your arm and turns you. He twists you about so suddenly and forcefully that you're taken by surprise. A gasp leaves you when he suddenly grasps your face.

The air stills as you vibrate with the sudden aggression he's showing. His boots hit hard and heavy. Each step is slow and steady, his helmet only inches from your face that he's tilting up in the borderline painful grip he's got on your face. He's forcing you to walk backwards, supporting your form with the other hand that's gripping your arm. Air is suddenly harder to acquire. The air twisting tightly. "Bruise your cervix?" He prompts lowly. It drags across his tongue, extra ragged. "Use you. Make you feel something." It's not possible for your heart to beat out of your chest but when he's done walking you backwards, you feel like it will.

The air has changed, charged with the electricity of anticipation rather than shame and rage.

"Did Cobb do that?" He asks, nearly whispering. It's not an accusation. You glance towards the bassinette where the kid still sleeps, amazingly.

"I used him," you admit, shame filling you, he doesn't give you the opportunity to dwell on it too long because he's shoving you backwards onto something soft. The bed.

Cue the swell of disbelief. Mando leans down and immediately starts working at your pants, tugging them open effectively. He gathers the edges in his hands just as you remember what is currently leaking from between your thighs. You gasp out, "Din, wait!" much softer than you intend. Your voice failing you in the way you need it to.

Too late. He tugs the fabric down your legs effectively. Once glance tells you enough, he's staring at the mess that is was made between your thighs. "You let him cum in you?" His helm tilts up to your face that you cover with your hands. Your brain is too busy trying to decide if he's awed or offended by the newly reveled information. You try to press your thighs together.

"I'm sorry," you plead between the palms on your face.

Din hooks his hands roughly under your knees and jerks. You're dragged over the bed until your bare ass is seated at the end of the bed and then he pushes your knees up and apart and just... just stares. It's enough of a sight to have you peaking from behind your hands. "Are you sore?"

Fuck, you were supposed to be fighting not... not... well, what even was this? Some kind of slut-shaming? Was it bad that you were this turned on by it. The morbid curiosity was battling the mortification at being examined by the Mandalorian bounty hunter in this manner. His fingers were squeezing and massaging where they rested under your knees, trying to coax an answer from you. "Ah... a little, I suppose."

"Doesn't sound bruised to me."

You gulp.

"Don't move." How could you? You were petrified and incredibly, embarrassingly aroused. He lifts his hands from your legs, leaving you hanging on whatever he decided to torture you with.

The last thing you expect is for those gloves to make their way to his belt and unbuckle it. "I said, 'don't move'," he repeats, pausing in his movements. It's only when he says that you notice you've propped yourself up to get a better view of him. Suddenly bashful, you sink back down to your back. "Open them further," he rumbles lowly. None of his words seem to have any aggression despite his aggressive actions. His town maybe low and he might be ordering you around but there is no real bark to him. It's raspy in a way that you've never heard from him. Drawn out slow in a way that indicates he's in no rush. The balance has you spinning.

But fuck, pulling his pants open and you nearly wheeze when a he palms your forehead, pushing it back into the bed while he reaches within the confides of his clothes. Your left with only a view of the ceiling and his wrist. His bronzed skin peaks out just a hair. "You don't get to look."

"Oh, shit," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut. What sort of wet dream were you stuck in? There was no way-

Something runs across your most sensitive area, something too thick to be a finger. You gasp and arch as it hits your oversensitive clit right off the bat. A little 'ah' leaves you for only a moment. "It's your eyes," he says and you think you've missed something when he wheezes it out. Then he lines up and slowly, maker, so slowly and completely unhindered, he's breaching you with the cock you've been dreaming of for months. You give a torn moan and arch up, grasping at the sheets. Still it's quiet because of all the things tonight, this is the last thing you want the kid seeing. "Ca-can't speak when... when you look at me." Heat blooms in your chest. He's still pushing deeper. He sinks against your cervix like no one's done before and pushes against it. When his pelvis meets yours, it's stretching you almost painfully. Your cervix is straining at the intrusion. It's lewd how wet it sounds already.

"Din," you sigh.

He gives a shaky groan when you squeeze around him. "Sh-should've told you 'no'," he admits, drawing back. And then he drives back in with force enough to make you cry out, and open further for him. "Ruin you," he murmurs with such a slur you wonder if he's drunk on it. And then his hips start to canter deep and hard. Not fast. Just deep and hard, stretching you beyond what you think you can. You're left mewling and trembling beneath him. "Should go... shove my...," he curses and his hand shifts from your forehead to your throat. "Shove my blaster, ah, kriff, down Vanth's throat."

Wait, he was jealous? Fuck, did that make you clamp down on him.

"Shit, like that?" He rasps out, still like he's whispering to you. "Want you," he promises, lower down so his chest is pinning you to the bed. He's so heavy, but you don't feel like you're breathing anyway. "All the time."

Please, don't let this be another delusion. Please.

"Did-did you just say... say that you saw me... to piss me off?" He urges.

"No," your arms tangle around him, grasping for purchase on his back. "No, I want you so- Kriff! Feels so good - want you so bad, s-saw you the whole time." He shudders in your hold, rolling the cool helmet against your neck as he continued his unhurried pace. He was going to kill you at this rate. "Please," you beg, "Please, Din. F-faster. Need it."

"No, I'm using you," he responds. A hand grips your hip and it's like he doesn't know whether he wants to push you further into the bed or pull you closer.

A familiar feeling rises in you, another orgasm creeping closer. The thought is pushed from your mind as the other hand covers your eyes. The one gripping your hip disappears and then something drops onto the bed. "Don't... don't look." Unmodulated and raw. Din is kissing you then. His mouth wet and hot and welcoming in this inferno of a hut.

He tastes so good and his tongue slips against yours eagerly. You would tear your eyes out if it meant you could feel his soft stubble against your mouth like this. You moan into his mouth and he eats it up with a particularly hard thrust. "Stay," he groans. "Be mine, be mine, be mine, bemine, beminebeminebemine...." he mantras like he can't breathe. His hips are finally moving faster.

"Yours," you promise, "Yours, yours, yours." You've lost your mind, unable to even conjure why you were mad at him in the first place because this sweet haze was too thick to look through and it takes you a moment to realize it’s a slow orgasm releasing. It’s not overwhelming, it’s just hot and sticky. It has you stretching across the sheets. His teeth sink into your neck as you shake below him. He settles down when you begin your own mantra. Instead, he grinds deeply into you. You're only vaguely aware of the way you both grasp and tug each other closer.

It's not long after before he spills himself into you with a string of expletives. "I'm sorry," he whispers against your neck. It's so nice to feel his breath for once.

"Me too." And nothing else seemed to be needed for it. It's not long before he's rocking his hips and spill his own seed out around himself.

You kind of like his beskar in this instance. The room feels too hot and it's cool against you both. Yeah, you could get used to this. Maybe tomorrow you'll remember what you're supposed to be fighting about.

Taglist: 

@lxdyred​, and I promised to tag you in this, Ava, have some iffy smut. @buttercup--bee​

[mimiwrites2000]

Fire and Rain

First Aruani Snippet! thank you all for submitting prompts!

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Words count: 2212

Summary:

Fire

Igniting from within herself

Rain

Pouring, cold on her skin

And just like any other human, she has a limit as well.

She cries, on their bed, alone.

Until the door creaks open, and he walks in.

Annie is facing a new feeling that she never experienced before, jealousy, and her insecurities only fuel it.

However, Armin knows exactly how to blow these insecurities away.

And so he does.

Unfamiliar.

Foreign.

The shiny-new novelty of it is shocking, unexpected.

And yet there she is. No denying can change it, no distractions can tame it.

The fire inside her unbearably massive, flames dancing to the drums in her chest, beating with every breath she takes, pouring more fuel on it, breathing rage into it.

She doesn’t want it to extinguish.

The fire seethes and scathes, boiling inside of her, threatening to spill out of her, burning down their bed, their room, their whole house, out the door and all around the neighborhood.

She wants the whole world to hear her screaming pain, she wants it to burn and crumble and shred into pieces.

Just like her.

Her insides screamed until their throats bleed. When no sounds came out, their fury trekked to their hands, legs, fuming and thrashing everything into dust, destroying everything with their wild rage.

And the fire burgeons, devouring her whole, until she is swallowed in red, an angry orange, and straying, out-of-their-place golden sparks.

Those golden sparks that glimmer in shades of red.

Matching the red spark in her eyes.

The pouring, salty rain, spilling out her eyes, unhurriedly putting the fire down. Cold tears that went down her cheeks, onto their pillow, left nothing but a confined fire underneath a wet, burnt land. The smell of rain drops with the char pungent to her nose, unbearably painful to breathe, impossible to breathe.

Her jaw clenches, teeth rubbing against each other, turning into soft heaps of bones in her mouth.

Her chest heaves as more tears squeeze their way out her eyes, down her face, glistening under the moonlight that filters through their window. Blue waterfalls, grey ribbons of silk. The moon comforts her, draining all colors from the world, layering it in a blanket of greys, making every living creature scurry into their caverns, hiding spots, ceasing life for a few hours. Falling into a mourning, silent choir.

She squeezes her eyes shut, she can’t bear it, she can’t, she can’t she can’t.

But she did.

For a few, agonizingly long months, she did.

She kept it all inside, decaying under its pressure, but here she is, in their bed, alone.

I’ll stay late,

 He said,

you’re tired, go rest.

He said,

 I'll follow once I'm done.

 He concluded, before going into a dim lit office, closing the door behind. She only had a glimpse of who waited for him in that room.

She waited, in their bed.

The trance of getting home, undressing, showring, eating, all but a forgotten blur.

Cold, their home was cold, the warmth sucked out of it, while outside, the heat of summer frayed the grass into long, feeble golden sticks.

She’s too pretty, Annie thought, I can’t compare to her.

Long, dark hair, black obsidian eyes, tall, her skirt tight, highlighting the curve of her wide hips, curvy body. Intelligent, her smartness over throwing Annie's with no doubt. Her speeches, words, resonated in the halls of the conferences, long after she said them, their effect lingering in everyone’s mind.

 She is everything Annie isn’t.

 Annie buries herself deeper into the blankets, worrying that she might've lost him, that she stole him from her.

Then the door creaks open, a second of silence, apprehension, before it closes with a soft click. Another second of silence, then the sound of boots thudding on the carpeted floor, ruffles of clothes being taken off.

The sheets lift up, a warm body slides next to her. She brings the blankets closer to her face, squeezing her eyelids shut.

Then, slowly, warm hands wrap around her, his face at the back of her neck.

“I know you are awake,” he whispers, in her ear.

She doesn’t shift.

The fire in her battles with the rain, conquering each other, until they swayed, in harmony. Flames that danced to the rhythm of the rain drops. Tik tik tik, and the water does what it’s not supposed to do. Broadening the fire, encouraging it into a massive figure of infernal beauty.

His hands soft on her body, goes up, to her shoulders, wrapping around them, before reaching her cheeks, caressing them-

He halts, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice panicked, worried, he leans backwards, inspecting her from behind the blanket, “are you hurt? Is something hurting you?”

She doesn’t reply, her throat too tight to speak.

He calls her name, once, twice, when she doesn’t respond, he gets out of bed, walks to her side, and sits on the floor, his sight on level with her closed eyes.

He calls her name.

Her eyes flutter open.

Red.

A blue orb in a middle of a light red. He opens his mouth to ask about how long she has been crying, but nothing comes out.

He rests his hand on her shoulder, squeezing a bit.

Tell me

His eyes say

You can tell me

So she sniffs, tries to clear her throat, lifting her chin up.

She speaks, but he shakes his head; her voice slurry, alphabets sprawled all over the place.

He motions with his fingers; wait, gets up, goes out, a minute passes, and he’s back with a glass of water.

Cold, she thought, as she straightens in their bed, pulling the sheets closer to her chest. She takes the glass from him, nodding, not meeting his eyes.

He sits on the edge of the bed, silently watching her, as she takes tiny sips of the water, bit by bit, making it last for as long as she can, stretching a mere glass of water onto an excruciatingly slow seconds of a dreadful wait.

He’s patient, he has always been patient with her, giving her the time she needs.

When the water is drained to its last droplets, and there’s no escape, she speaks.

"How was your meeting?" She asks, she hates the hoarseness in her voice, she tries to clear her throat, but it only itches more.

Armin raises an eyebrow.

"How was it?" She asks again.

He sighs, finding no other solution but to answer her: "It went ok, too many paper work, which I despise."

"I could've stayed late and helped you, you know," her hand goes up to rub her arm.

"You were so exhausted, you've already done extra work today, besides, the new assistant was there and she was a great help, so it was ok."

Annie tenses, of course she was a great help.

"I never thought you would ever need an assistant," she says, and she tries so hard to not spit out the words.

"Neither did I," he amuses, "but, well, she showed up and honestly, she does know what she's doing, so I said, why not?" 

"Because I could've stayed late with you instead of her," she lets out in one go, her words overlapping each other.

Armin furrows his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling.

When he doesn't reply, she repeats: "I could've stayed with you, I can be your assistant, I don't care if it's extra work. I could've stayed late with you."

She's looking around the room, watching everything except his eyes.

The dots connect in his mind.

A new assistant, staying late at work…

"Annie..." He calls out, the wrinkles in his forehead curving upwards as his eyebrows rise.

You're jealous, he thinks, but doesn't say out loud. 

He sighs, crawls onto bed. Annie curls on herself, turning her head away from him.

He sits in front of her, thinking from where to start. He would've never thought, in a million years, that Annie would be jealous.

It’s ridiculous… how could she ever think about…

He scrutinizes her. Vulnerable, insecure, hugging herself, avoiding his eyes.

If anything, he knows that Annie isn’t a woman of word.

With that in mind, he starts by kissing her knee, despite the blanket covering it. She swivels her head to him, confused.

His kisses go up, kissing her thighs. He murmurs against the fabric: "Annie..." 

Her name on his tongue, low and careful, each syllable pronounced with fragile-cautiousness, a desperate need to call her out, feel her name tingling on his tongue.

"You're the only one who would ever have my nights," he says.

He kisses her stomach, "to have my mornings," another kiss, "my afternoons, my evenings."

She's silent, watching him.

He goes up, kissing her clothed chest, "You're the only one I want to wake up by her side," he kisses her collarbone, his voice dropping a few notches.

He feels Annie swallowing.

He shuffles closer to her, kissing her neck, he whispers: "you're the only one who will ever touch me," one of his hands resting on her waist, while the other propped him up.

He kisses the spot underneath her chin, the skin soft on his lips, he says: "You're the only one I want to laugh with," another kiss, "cry with," a third kiss, "smile with."

He closes his eyes, his raw, genuine feelings pouring with every word, every touch.

"You're the only one I want to be with,"

He's kissing her face, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the corner of her lips, her forehead, tasting salt from her tears. He doesn't know when she started crying, but he knows that she's hurt, vulnerable, and that is all he needs to know.

He wraps his arms around her, bringing her closer to him.

Hugging her tighter, never letting go.

Until he feels her arms wrapping around him, hugging him back, that's when he pushes his weight onto her, toppling her balance, landing on top of her.

She gasps, and he swallows the sound as he kisses her, lips on lips, tasting more salt, pressing his lips harder onto her. He kisses her with incomparable delicacy, touches soft on her body. Her lips warm, her cheeks cold.

He cups her face, wiping the tears, her skin glimmers where tears once were, leaving two silvery traces, meandering down her cheeks. He kisses them, slow, one by one, drawing it with his lips, until she relaxes against him.

Then hands happen, and they're on each other, skin on skin, in the quiet of the night.

He breathes her name out through it all, engraving it on the folds of her mind, for it to stay there for as long as she lived.

He wants her to hear his heart beating to the rhythm of her name on his tongue, each time he says it, his heart pulsating life through him, into his veins, into his hands that caress all over her body, memorizing every dip of her skin, every ridge of a bone. Her chest heaving under him, erratic breathing, and yet, she doesn't utter a word.

She lets him show her his words, blowing life into them, show her that he is only for her.

He gladly does.

He tells her that she's the only one who makes him feel this way, as he kisses down her neck, he tells her that she's the only one to touch him like she does. He whispers that he can't imagine anyone else doing what she does to him, that no one can make him feel the way that she does.

Then the first word slips out of her mouth, mixed with a sob.

It's his name.

Armin Armin Armin

She repeats his name, over and over, other words getting lost in moans and cries, and he savors it all.

After he made sweet love to her, once, twice. Gentle and soft. He kisses her neck, but she stops him, and he takes it as a sign.

He engulfs her in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom, where he runs the bath. Steam emits from the bath as she slowly tip toes into the warm water, he follows suit, sitting behind her, her back pressed onto his chest.

He washes her hair, her body, compliments falling off his tongue, gorgeous, pretty, an angel. She turns her head, rose dusting her cheeks.

When she wants to return the favor, he only pushes her hands, telling her that he got himself covered, so she sits on the stool by the bathtub, watching him rinse himself under the spray of the shower, his hair slick and wet, his shoulders broad, arms sculpted with muscle.

He acts like he doesn’t notice her stare.

He steps out the shower, then wraps her in a towel, before wrapping himself.

Not long after, he covers her in their blanket, tucking himself beside her, hugging her bare frame to his chest.

He kisses her forehead, tells her that he loves her, and he did for so long, and will never cease to a stop.

Because she is the spring in these emotions, and the thought of her on his mind had kept him going for years, and to have her in his arms… would be enough to live the rest of his life with his eyes on no one but her.

She smiles, planting a kiss on his bare chest, tangling their legs together.

He chuckles, and her heart flutters at the sound.

He rests his chin on her head, pulling her even closer to him, and like a mantra on his tongue, he whispers her name until sleep takes over him.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 6   ||  chapter 7  ||  chapter 9  ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh. 

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks 

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next. 

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this  :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^) 

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Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

 ‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering. 

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches. 

 His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks. 

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl. 

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy. 

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

 Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive. 

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms. 

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

 The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies. 

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved. 

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much. 

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours. 

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

 It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all— 

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first. 

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven. 

 ...

 But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

 Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached. 

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

 [you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

 Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

 You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder. 

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of. 

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide. 

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks. 

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all. 

You didn’t even cross his mind. 

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful. 

All the same, the absence would burn later. 

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair. 

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic. 

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign. 

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized. 

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams. 

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment. 

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing. 

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well. 

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.  

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind. 

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior. 

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment. 

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull. 

 You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together. 

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay. 

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko. 

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse. 

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar. 

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled. 

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire. 

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine . 

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

 The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot. 

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out— 

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former. 

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior. 

The absences burned. 

 Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant. 

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority— 

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still. 

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state. 

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit. 

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye. 

 ...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized. 

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often. 

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late) 

More on his mind meant more to forget. 

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone. 

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized. 

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken— 

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day. 

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing. 

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring. 

 You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation. 

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

 [birdboy <3] calling...

 You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. 

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered. 

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off— 

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job. 

Why does this all feel so bad?

 “Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support— 

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

 ...

 Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right. 

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

 ...

 You hardly slept. 

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all. 

You ‘rationalized’. 

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize. 

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase. 

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering. 

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

 Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety. 

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still. 

He gave you a call.

 You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky. 

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality. 

 “Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

 “It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt. 

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive. 

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise. 

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it. 

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

 You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver. 

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||

 ko-fi

||||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess  @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @msgrungie @mia--merc @a-monsters-love @peach-buns-unicorns@amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidelsewhere

(send me an ask if you would like to be added!)

[mf-despair-queen]

Stranded - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 11,426

Summary: You hated him. You despised him. He was arrogant for what he had done, taking down WICKED. He was the reason that your friends had died in the attack. But, when you find yourself stuck at sea, or even worse, stranded on a deserted island with Thomas, you find yourself realizing you were wrong. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral, Choking, Sex in the Water, kinda public sex I guess?, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk

Notes: I guess I live??? I guess I still write. I don’t even know anymore y’all. I’m sorry I don’t post often these days. And I’m sorry this is as late as it is. It was meant for @writingsbychlo​‘s Thomas month three months ago but between work and laziness, I didn’t finish on time. Because, essentially, I suck ass. And tbh, I’m not incredibly happy with the outcome of this. It could have been way better than it was because I loved the idea a lot. But at this point, it’s as good as it’s going to get and I just want it done and out there. Hope y’all enjoy it. Big thanks to @roscoeknows​ and @brien-odylan​ for always pushing me with this, and @jagked-up​ for being a sweetie and proofreading for me. 

“Gather around everyone!” Vince yelled, his voice dictating the crowd of survivors to the beach front for the early morning discussions. You flopped to the sandy ground, wrapping your arms loosely around your knees that were tucked into your chest. Sharing a few nods with your friends as they passed by, you avoided the gaze of the ex-WICKED test subjects from maze A.

Many of the boys were kind and you got along with easily, but it was the tall, dark haired former runner that never struck you right. Upon learning that he had worked with WICKED growing up, and the downfall of the Right Arm shortly after his arrival, you decided to stay clear of the man, choosing to never forgive him for ruining the home you worked so hard for - causing the death of those who were close to you and raised you to who you are now. That, and he always seemed to be full of himself for his help in saving many people and stopping WICKED. 

Well, that’s what you heard from some of your closest friends at least. 

You had never truly interacted with the male for long periods of time. It was always in passing during dinner or around camp while getting work done. He would occasionally try to strike up a conversation, but you gave some excuse before running off, letting out a huff of annoyance that he would never get the hint. His aura was aggravating without reason, but you had no plans to befriend the amnesiac. 

Turning your gaze towards Vince, who stood upon a rickety stage made of driftwood and fallen branches along the edge of the forest behind camp that you feared would break under his heavy, muscled stature and weighted boots, your ears perked up to hear his morning announcements.

“Good morning everyone,” he called, voice as authoritative as ever. “Based on some recent discussions and feedback from everyone for their tasks around the Safe Haven we have decided to try out a new method for jobs. Moral has been low because people have been mentioning that they have felt things have gone stale because they’ve been doing the same job every day since we situated here, free of infection, free from WICKED."

“So, in an attempt to raise the mood around here, we will be testing out a lottery draw for daily tasks. Remember, this is just a trial run to see how people like it and I think it’ll be good for everyone to be familiar with all of the jobs. And so you are all aware, there will be no job swapping. Once you choose something, that is what you’ll be doing for that day.”

You pouted at yourself, huffing in annoyance. A lottery? Seriously? There were a number of jobs you wished to avoid, namely the ones that involved tending to the pigs that were being raised and handling slimy things that made you cringe. To top it off, you would potentially have to work with people you didn’t know or get along with instead of the people you knew you could stand for more than a few hours.

“We have set up a station outside the dining commons for you to choose your job for the day. And we’ll get some feedback during dinner to see how things went. We’ll decide after a couple weeks if we want to keep it like this, try something new, or go back to how it was before. So please everyone, line up to draw your job for the day.”

You let out a heavy sigh, watching numerous people rush towards the job drawing, uttering something about wanting to be first in line or hoping that they have a better chance at a better task. You were slow to stand, regrettably joining the line of people while patting the sand off your backside. Silently praying you didn’t get struck with a case of bad luck for once, you watched people one by one choose their jobs. Some cheered while others wept, being consoled by their friends. Your own friends - or the group you typically hung with - chose their jobs, luckily ending up in the same task of harvesting the gardens.

Your eyes narrowed on the group of former test subjects that chatted happily after choosing their jobs. Minho, the hulky athletic male of the group, flexed and laughed at his choosing of forest running, gathering food and wood for the village. Newt, the timid brainiac that was lucky to have survived not only a stab wound but the Flare as well, was working the medical room, which he seemed pleased about. Whereas Thomas, your least favorite person in the Safe Haven, was silent, showing an awkward, lopsided smile that you couldn’t read. Was he happy about his job? Disappointed? Apathetic? 

Who cares.

You turned from the trio as you approached the box yourself, staring one of the leaders named Mark in the eye. With a short nod at the older gentleman, you stuck your small hand through the hold in the top, feeling the dwindled number of papers inside. One last inaudible prayer later, you were pulling the slip out, eyes clenched shut and bated breath. 

Your heart fell when you finally cracked your eyes open, seeing the words sloppily written on the strip. Fishing. You dreaded fishing. As much as you loved to eat the seafood that was brought back each day, you couldn’t stand the task itself. You hated the tedious task of dropping a net or sitting with a pole, waiting for something to happen while the boat that you felt would capsize with ease, swaying with the ocean waves. Add in dealing with the fish, grabbing at their slimy, scaly bodies while they wiggled aimlessly was less than appealing.

Why, of all things, did you have to draw fishing?

You let your thoughts consume you as you dragged your feet towards the beach where the small boat was waiting. With the lack of resources, and a recently lost boat from a hole in the bottom, only two people that could go fishing at the moment. There was a stockpile in the Safe Haven, luckily, but no one wanted to let the supply drop too low too fast. Your thoughts drifted to who you could be paired with. Hopefully it was someone that could manage for you both, that enjoyed fishing more than you. Maybe you would get paired with Gally, or even Aris. They were people that could manage stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N.”

With a screech, you fell forward into the sand, caught off guard at the deep voice before you. The person cursed, rushing forward to help you up. A somewhat tanned, veiny hand extended towards you, appearing in your sight to counter the grainy ground under you that your knees and hands were buried in. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, a blush spreading over your cheeks as you took their hand. But the blush disappeared, your face paling when you realized who it was. Thomas stood before you, helping you to stand to your feet. He gave a toothy smile, staring at you with chocolate hazelnut eyes. The sparkle in his orbs diminished slightly when you slid your hand from his, turning away to brush off your jeans. “Oh, hi Thomas.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled to see me,” he sarcastically bit, tilting his head. You scoffed at him, earning a frown from the man. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked shortly.

Thomas rose a brow, turning and pointing at the small boat that was sitting on the shore, already filled with the various fishing supplies you would need. “I drew fishing today,” he said, turning back to you. “I assume you did too?”

“Great,” you mumbled under your breath, letting out a sigh. Holding up the small paper for him to see, you spoke up, “Yeah. I’m unfortunately fishing today.”

“Unfortunate because you hate fishing?” He asked. You were about to nod in confirmation before he continued. “Or, unfortunate because you’re with me?”

At his harsh statement, you frowned, gaping at the man. You struggled to find the right words for him, mouth opening and closing a few times before you managed to utter one word. “Thomas…”

“Come on,” he cut you off, nodding towards the small boat, giving that same awkward smile as before. “We have fishing to do and I’d rather not get bitched at by Vince later.”

That made you snicker, nodding in agreement. “Same though.”

Before long, you were rowing out into the middle of the ocean, the shoreline disappearing. You struggled to prepare the nets and rods, not wanting to watch Thomas row the boat. You hated to admit, but up close, he was handsome. And with him straining his muscles to row, you could easily see his biceps flexing through his dark blue shirt. The sleeves ended just below his elbow, so you had a clear shot of the veins that protruded along his arms. 

It was a struggle not to watch him, constantly reminding yourself that you didn’t care for the man before you after everything that happened. 

An uncomfortable silence settled between you both when he settled on a spot that seemed to be flourishing with fish. The net was dropped and the rods were cast. You sat in the boat away from each other, staring off into the distance with your backs together, the waiting game upon you. The sun was slowly moving overhead, taunting you with the passage of time. Despite the abundance of fish, nothing seemed to be biting.

Your heart was steadily hammering faster, yet you couldn’t tell if it was because you were sitting alone with Thomas or if it was because every jostle of the boat left you anxious. Thomas seemed to notice your skittish nature behind him, feeling your body jerk and tremble every time the boat would rock more than the last time.

“Are you ok?” he asked, turning to look at you over his shoulder. The second he asked, the boat shook, making you squeal in surprise. 

“Fuck, I’m going to die,” you cried, placing the rod aside and resting your elbows on your knees. Thomas blinked, placing his own rod down so he could turn and stare at you.

“Come again?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m too young to die at sea!” you cried louder. The boat shook again, making you squeak once more. “Fuck, I swear that has got to be a shark. This is something straight out of Jaws!”

“...Jaws?”

“Yeah, you know,” you ranted, turning to face him. “That classic movie about the shark that was terrorizing Amity Beach? They had like… three sequels? It was a massive shark that would come and kill people!”

“I… don’t know.”

“Well, what about 47 Meters Down? Granted, we don’t have a diving cage, but we could basically be surrounded by sharks and we have nowhere to go. We are in the middle of the ocean, Thomas!”

“I don’t know that one either.”

“How could you not know them?” you hollered.

Thomas scoffed. “Well, excuse me for losing my memory while in the maze.”

“But I thought you got some memories back from that… that one thing.” You faintly remember hearing about that from your friends. 

“I remembered stuff about WICKED. Doesn’t mean I remember your shitty movies!” he snapped. 

You growled at him. “God, why are you such an asshole?”

“Why are you such a bitch?” he huffed.

“Thanks for the compliment. I know I’m a babe in total control of herself,” was your smug response, flashing him a smirk. Thomas rolled his eyes, turning away from you. 

“God, why did I have to get stuck with you?” he grumbled. 

“Because I’m obviously amazing,” you told him, turning to stare at the horizon.

“Fuck you.”

“You would like that.”

You expect him to retort, but he said nothing. You blinked in confusion, turning back to him. He wasn’t facing you, so you only got the backside of his head. Your face fell, a sorrowful thump in your chest making it ache. For some reason, you felt bad for his silence, afraid you had done something wrong. It felt as though his mood dropped, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Instead of asking though, you turned and picked up the rod, hoping something would bite soon. 

“You know,” he spoke up suddenly, making you jump. “I know you don’t like me.”

Shocked, you turned to him, only to find he still wasn’t facing you. “What? Thomas, no. I don’t-”

“I understand though,” he murmured. “You were happy with the Right Arm before we came. And then within one day, everything you knew and loved was lost. You lost those who practically raised you, like Mary. And it’s all my fault.”

“Thomas…”

“I’ve been trying to make amends for what happened. I know I can’t change what happened, but I wanted to apologize. And you’re the last person I need to apologize to for what happened. I really fucked up that day and I feel bad that I caused so many problems. But you never give me the chance to apologize to you because you are always ignoring me.”

You stared down at your feet, guilt washing over you. This entire time, you had scrutinized him for what he had done and what had happened, judging him for things of his past. You never took the chance to learn who he was and understand how he was feeling. You sighed softly, shifting in your seat, letting silence befall you again.

The boat shook, making you gasp, grasping at the edges of the boat. “Oh my god. What the fuck was that?”

Thomas chuckled. “It was just the waves, Y/N. Calm down.”

“If I get eaten by a shark-” The boat shook more, making you both stumble slightly in the uneven waves. “Oh my god. It’s Jaws!”

“There is no Jaws!”

“I’m too young to die at sea! Why did I have to get ‘fishing’? If I was going to die, why couldn’t I, oh I don’t know, follow the butterflies?” you bellowed. “Fuck, I hate the ocean. Nothing good ever happens out here.”

“Y/N-”

“Is it Jaws?!” 

Thomas turned quickly in his seat, just as you turned to face him, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Hold on!”

Your eyes widened, feeling the boat shake and shift, being tossed around as the water around you grew aggressive. Your skin paled, barely managing to take a gulp of air before the large wave that was hurtling towards you crashed into the boat, sending you and Thomas toppling into the dark ocean. The waves pushed you around, Thomas barely able to keep his grasp on you.  

Your head was spinning.

Your eyes were blurry and unfocused, burning from the salt water.

Your throat ached, wanting to breathe air that wasn’t present as you struggled to figure out which way was up.

Your vision slowly blurred, going black before long, suffocating on the water around you.

~

A burst of air filled your lungs, your body retching to rid itself of water. You were turned on your side as the water escaped, low heaves and coughs leaving you. When you managed to catch your breath, breathing normally, you flopped back onto your back, staring up at the blue sky. Blinking a few times, you tried to remember what happened.

“Are you ok?” Thomas spoke beside you.

That’s when it hit. You turned to him, eyes slowly widening. You jumped to your feet, stumbling around to look at your surroundings. There was a forest on one side, and the ocean on the other. Wood from the destroyed boat was still washing onto the shore, some of your belongings that managed to survive were scattered in the sand. Nothing was in sight around you - no Safe Haven close to return to.  

You glanced down at Thomas, taking note of his dripping wet locks that stuck to his forehead. His shirt and pants clung to his limbs, making his chest and arms stick out more, accentuating the thick thighs you never took the time to notice. Sand stuck to his wet skin, but he didn’t seem fazed by the grainy substance. He was panting, slouched in the sand before where you form once laid.

“Be careful,” he called. “Don’t rush too fast. You just woke up from nearly drowning.”

“Where are we?” you asked. 

“I don’t know,” he hummed lowly. “When I finally managed to get us to the surface, this is where we had ended up.”

“So, are you trying to say,” you choked, crouching down into a ball. “That we are stranded?”

“I think so.”

“I’m stranded here with you?” Thomas nodded. You groaned, taking a handful of sand and throwing it away from you both. “Fuck!”

“Y/N, calm down-”

You didn’t listen, rushing to the edge of the water. The waves splashed around your already wet feet, your shoes sinking into the wet sand. “Hello?” you called loudly, cupping your mouth to amplify your voice. “Can anyone hear me? Help! We are stuck out here!”

“Hey, hey. Stop that,” Thomas called, standing from his seat and making his way towards you. He took your hands as you continued to scream into the abyss, turning you to face him. “Stop screaming like that.”

“No, leave me alone! I’m not going to die here with you!”

“Y/N, stop!” he called, holding you struggling form tighter. You eased into him when he raised his voice. “That’s not going to help. You’re just going to wear yourself out faster that way.”

“But-”

“If you continue to scream, you will just make yourself tired and thirsty. And the last thing we need is for you to be dehydrated. You will die faster if that’s the case.” You swallowed thickly, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. “We need to focus on finding food, water and shelter. Then we can figure out how to get home. We need to make sure we are safe first.”

“But, how?” you sniffled, fear finally kicking in. “I can barely fish.”

“Don’t worry about it. I will handle it,” he whispered, pushing your wet hair back. He grimaced when he felt grains of sand interlaced in your strands, but kept a smile on his face. “Just make sure to keep up, alright smallfry?”

You huffed when he turned away, moving to gather some of the supplies that survived. “I’m not a smallfry, you tree!” you called out to him, chasing after the man.

You managed to gather some emergency supplies that had been luckily sealed to keep from getting wet, giving you a blanket, flint for a fire, and a small knife. It wasn’t much, but it was all Thomas needed before he ventured into the jungle. Though, it wasn’t before you had convinced him to let you spell out an SOS in the sand with rather heavy rocks you found along the coast. 

Trekking through the dense jungle, soaked from head to toe in salt water, the humidity piercing the air until your skin stuck more than before, and exhaustion beginning to set into your limbs, was the last thing you had thought would happen when you awoke that morning. Let alone you were with Thomas of all people. 

On one hand, if you were going to be stuck with anyone, Thomas was a prime candidate. He had survived the Maze and the Scorch, he was fit and able to hunt for food if needed, and he'd carry you with ease if you suddenly fell flat on your face after tripping over the many tree roots that seemed to wrap themselves around your ankles, tugging at your despair.  On the other hand, it was Thomas. The traitor, the ex-WICKED member, the know it all.

You frowned at the thought, glancing up to stare at the back of his head, watching the brown tuft of hair flowing in the breeze that skated by. His shirt stuck to his form with sea water and sweat, his arms effortlessly flexing whenever he pushed aside branches, leaves and bushes. Your mind raced back to the discussion on the boat and Thomas’ plea for forgiveness echoing in your ears. Our stomach clenched with the familiar sense of guilt you had before the tsunami-like wave capsized your tiny haven. 

Maybe you had judged him too quickly after all. He was making advances to move on and seek retribution for everything. You were stuck in the past, unwilling to forgive what happened to friends back then.

Maybe it was time to start moving on...

Though, that thought didn’t change that you were stuck alone on this uninhabited island with him. Alone with a fairly attractive man...

Shaking your head quickly to rid yourself of the indecent thoughts, your cheeks flaring up, you hustled forward to join his side. The silence between you was unnerving, the only sound around being your rapid heartbeat that seemed to speed up when you sideways glanced at his face. Unconsciously, you found yourself counting the moles that starred his jawline.

No, stop. What are you doing?

“So, uh,” you cleared your throat speaking up, trying to distract yourself from the plague that kept entering your mind. “What is the plan?”

“We should find water and shelter,” he voiced, cut off by the loud growl of your stomach. Your cheeks lit up, not only due to the embarrassment caused by the protests of hunger your body let out, but also the flips your stomach did at the sound of his deep, but melodic laughter. His dark eyes darted to you, a goofy, lopsided grin inching his cheeks upright. “And food too, I guess. We need fresh water and shelter first and foremost though.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to find that?” you questioned, jumping over a rock and nearly faceplanting. Thomas caught you swiftly, adding more heat to your already warm face. Uttering a low thank you, you continued after him, afraid to speak more. 

“Well, I guess we should try to listen for some water. If we can find a stream or river, we can probably follow it for a bit.”

“You mean like that?”

You spied a small stream beyond a set of trees, Thomas’ face lighting up at the sight. “Exactly! Let’s go!”

You laughed at his excitement, though you missed the soft smile Thomas gave hearing you laugh the way you did. He rushed towards the stream of water with you hot on his heel, following the water flowing down the island. A more comfortable silence fell between you this time, making your way through the jungle together.

“Eureka!” Thomas finally exclaimed, dashing away from you.

“H-hey! Don’t just leave me alone you asshole! Or I will never forgive you!”

“Story of my life,” was his snarky reply, but the joking words made your heart clench while wincing to yourself. He wasn’t wrong, but it stung to hear it so bluntly. “Now, hurry up and get over here!”

A silent sigh left your lips before rushing after him, stumbling to a stop at his side in awe. A small lake was at the end of the stream you were following, the water sparkling with the sun's rays glaring down at it. A small waterfall stood in the distance, white foam coating the base, rippling waves making the water glisten and shimmer. You stared in awe at the sight, gawking at the beauty.

“Yahoo!” Thomas screamed before diving straight into the water, belongings dropped carelessly to the ground, making you gasp in shock. Dots of cold water sprinkled along your face, causing you to shrink back in surprise and yelp loudly. 

“Thomas!” You screamed at him when he resurfaced, kicking his legs to stay afloat. The man pushed back his dark tresses of hair, wiping the water away from his face. He didn’t care that he was fully clothed, fabric clinging to his muscled form. He was content laying back in the water, eyes glued to the blue sky.

“This is nice.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scowled.

His heavenly laugh resounded through the air, your stomach knotting at the noise. Your eyes followed the man as he flipped in the water, diving into the water again before swimming to the other edge near the waterfall. A tired heave escaped as you sat in the nearby grass, sliding off your wet shoes and socks and slipping your aching, waterlogged feet into the lake. The cool water felt refreshing, a sense of calm hitting you almost instantly. You leaned back on your hands, allowing yourself to unwind for the first time since you awoke on the sandy beach. 

“Hey!” Thomas called, making you crack an eye in his direction. He was waving at you from afar, standing at the edge of the waterfall. He pointed towards the falling rapids, calling out, “There is a small cave back here! I think we can use this as shelter!”

“Are you sure?” You hollered back. Thomas nodded, diving into the water and swimming towards you. When he arrived, he stayed in the water, resting on the edge of the lake on his arms. 

“Yeah. It’s small, but I think it'll do. It’s dry enough for us to have a fire but it’ll keep any animals out.”

“If I die tonight because you are wrong and some animal mauls me while I sleep, I am coming back to haunt you.”

Thomas grinned, lifting himself out of the water to grab the gear he dropped. The water made his pants sag, exposing the elastic of the dark boxers he had on. You blushed and turned away, listening to him rummage around in the waterproof bag of emergency goods. 

“I’m going to try and gather some food from the trees. Do you think you can gather some wood for a fire? We can use the bag and tarp that was inside to keep it dry when we head in,” he suggested, tossing both in your direction. 

“I guess. But let me rest for a bit longer please,” you hummed, turning to look at him. Thomas nodded at your words, pocketing a knife set. Turning was a bad decision - Thomas at that moment was stripping off his wet shirt, giving you full display of his toned upper torso, complete with check hair and happy trail dipping into his waistband. His broad shoulders and arms flexed as he stretched, folding the shirt and placing it down with the spare belongings in the bag. His long legs carried him towards some trees with mysterious fruit hiding in the tops, your eyes tracing the back muscles you didn’t know you needed until now.

The man proceeded to climb the tree carefully, trying not to slip too much from his wet pants. Watching him pull himself up, arms bulging and veins prominent along his skin even from a distance, made your body heat up, legs rubbing together slightly. The attractive man left your mind reeling. A shaky breath left your lips, your head turning away quickly.

What the fuck? You thought to yourself, staring at your reflection. Since when did I think of Thomas as attractive?

The soft thunk of fruits being cut down from the tree made your ears ring, eyes darting to stare at the man in the tree before returning to the water. You saw how red your face was.

I thought I hated him. I thought I despised him. But ever since he said he’s been trying to apologize for what happened, I can’t help but think… You groaned, ruffling your knotted hair. Have I just always found him attractive but chose to ignore it because I was irrationally angry at him?

“Aw fuck,” you heard Thomas groan when he fell on his ass while descend the tree. The man stood from the ground, rubbing his sore buttox before moving to the next tree, repeating his attempts to gather food. You giggled to yourself, tucking some loose hair away.

“Maybe I have been too harsh on him,” you sighed to yourself, feeling your heartbeat picking up. “Maybe it’s time to move on and forgive him.That fucking attractive asshole.”

“Hey, don’t get too comfortable! Help a brotha out!” he joking called before jumping onto another tree ungracefully, shimmying up the trunk slowly.

“I know, asshole!” 

Hesitantly, you pulled yourself from the ground, grumbling lowly at yourself as you dragged the supplies to the small cave before heading off to find sticks. The entire time you gathered the broken twigs and branches that littered across the ground, your eyes kept lingering on the broad, muscular form in the distance. Setting your eyes on his form made your heart race, face heating up from something other than the setting sun in the distance. You ached, but not from the strenuous task of obtaining firewood for warmth that night. As you crouched for wood, your legs rubbed together to relieve the throbbing sensation that racked your lower body. Your mind was plagued with him - how you never noticed his beautiful or funny personality through your initial judgment. Deep down, you knew he was hot… but it didn’t strike until now just how much you really liked him.

And being stuck with him, seeing how much he cared, only deepened the feeling. Rapidly, at that. You were smitten in a matter of hours, putting aside your hatred to see the real side of the man.

When you walked into the cave, it was silent. Thomas said nothing, busy setting up the blanket so you had a somewhat comfortable place to rest until help, hopefully, arrived. You pouted, a sudden overwhelming sense of doubt hitting you. Though he never showed it, insecurity struck, suggesting to you that he was actually uncomfortable with the situation - that he actually was upset that you had resented him for so long. Despite his attempted apology in the smash boat, he really was unhappy that you wouldn’t accept him.

And here you were, pining over the man suddenly as a new light was making his presence glow in the darkness, giving you some hope, security and a very flushed face at the simplest thoughts. How the tables turned in your mind.

The sun was nearly gone, giving the sky a faint, blue glow, the remnants of pinks and oranges fading into black. Thomas quietly started a fire, the crackling embers flaring up after a few harsh breaths from the man to fan the flames. Both of you settled onto the blanket, nibbling on the fruits he had gathered. A decent gap was between you, your butt at the edge of the blanket just like his. 

Listening to the crackle of the fire made your mind race with uneasy thoughts. Occasionally, as you bit into the mysterious, but sweet food, you would glance at the man beside you, finding his eyes glued to the fire before you. Eyes traced his side profile, heating up as you admired his sharp jawline speckled in freckles and moles, bits of scruff forming on his chin. 

He hadn’t shaved recently.

Your stomach fluttered, knotting tightly with delight and discomfort. He was handsome, something you would have never admitted before today, but the cold shoulder was killing you. Your mouth was dry, tongue darting out in an attempt to relieve the crackling feeling with no result. Your heart pounded against your chest before turning away, tugging your lip between your teeth to nibble at unconsciously. 

Now that you were ready to forgive him, this new feeling was taking over. You really liked him, and you wanted to get to know him more. You were tired of judging him for what happened. You had the wrong perception of him. But, you had to make things right. 

“Thomas,” you croaked. The man turned his head; you could feel his chocolate colored eyes on the side of your head, trying to pierce you. The words didn’t want to come out when you opened your mouth, unsure what you wanted to say or ask. You finally managed after a handful of attempts to utter one line: “Do you hate me?”

“What?” he asked, more to himself than to you. When you glanced at him, he was shocked, gawking in your direction. The leg he had tucked into him as he ate was extended, body turned to face you better. 

“I just,” you started, twiddling your fingers together. “I’ve been so hard on you since we got to the safe haven. I hated you because of what happened with the Right Arm. But I never gave you a chance to make amends for that. I know you didn’t deserve the treatment I gave you, but I did it anyway, believing that you were this cocky know-it-all for being the savior that took down WICKED. And, I’m sorry for that. 

“I shouldn't have judged you so prematurely. I shouldn’t have shunned you or pushed you away when all you wanted was to be friends, to make up for what happened because I get it; you feel guilty for what happened. You blame yourself when you shouldn’t. It wasn’t even your fault when you think about it. And now… we’re stuck here and I just… I keep feeling like because of how poorly I’ve treated you that you hate me now. I’ve done you wrong and you have no reason to treat me kindly. Sure, survival is one thing but… I’m sure you hate me.”

“I could never,” he voiced without a thought, startling you. 

Staring up at him, you whispered, “What?”

“I could never hate you,” he hummed, returning to hugging a knee to his chest. “Quite the opposite really.”

“I’m not following.”

Thomas chuckled, continuing, “You were the one I wanted to apologize to the most because of how much I liked you. I’ve…” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve had a massive crush on you for the longest time. You’re the smartest, strongest and most beautiful woman in the safe haven to me. I couldn’t but to develop a small… well, a massive crush on you. And I wanted to ask you to give me a chance, but you would always walk away when I got the courage to talk to you. I knew I had hurt you but I wanted to try. So, yeah. I could never hate you.”

It was your turn to gawk at him. Your cheeks burned, staring at the handsome man in shock. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to say anything for the longest time. And when you finally managed to say anything, you only could say, “I’m going to take a bath!”

Thomas laughed when he watched you rush out, jumping into the shallow water just outside the cave fully clothed. Collapsing onto a rock, water coming up to your waist, you huffed, burrowing your face in your palms. 

“God, I’m stupid. He fucking likes me too. He has a crush on me. And here I’m starting to crush on him. What did I fucking run?!”

Sighing, you peeled the wet shirt over your head, struggling to strip yourself of your pants. Since you were already in the water, you figured you should at least wash up the best you could, choosing to scrub your tattered clothes a bit to rid them of dirt and grime. The wet clothes, after you were done, we placed aside, allowing you to sink further into the water. A content breath left your lips, looking up at the stars that made the sky glow. 

“So, you like me too?”

You jumped, turning around with arms crossed over your chest to hide your almost bare chest. The cocky male sat at the base of the cave, still shirtless from his earlier excursion. 

“Can you not?!” you screamed, splashing water in his direction.

“Sorry, sorry,” he teased. “I initially came to check on you after you ran off, and you’ve been out here for a bit. Wanted to make sure something didn’t eat you.”

“I appreciate the concern, but can you not stare at my chest?” you grumbled, noticing his stare at the water, right where your hands were. “And what gave you the impression that I like you too?”

“You know I could hear you, right?” You blushed, sinking further into the water. “Listen, I’m glad you are starting to like me too. But I will leave you be. I will let you tell me when you’re ready. I’m honestly just... “ He stopped for a second. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t think I ever really hated you,” you admitted to him. “I was just blind to how much I really did like you. I never took the time to notice how handsome, smart and funny you are. I lied to myself that I didn’t like you when I’m pretty sure I liked you a hell of a lot.”

“You know, being stranded on this island sucks,” he hummed playfully. “But, I’m glad I’m here with you. It really is something special.”

“Thomas.”

“I will leave you be to clean up. I shouldn’t bother you. But please give me a holler if you need me or something happens.”

He stood to leave, turning his back to retreat into your small dominion for the night. He didn’t hear the water splash as you rushed to the edge of the water, not caring to shield yourself as you called out to him again.

“Thomas!”

Slowly, he turned back to you, a red hot blush clearly appearing on his skin despite the darkness. “Yes?”

You were silent for a second before speaking up, “do you want to take a bath with me? You know, clean up and maybe wash your clothes?”

He chuckled, contemplating for a moment before letting his feelings cave over his rational thoughts. He turned around briskly, rushing to join you in the water. His jump into the shallow water, albeit not a big one, was enough to make the water splash against you, Thomas earning a squeal of surprise. He grinned, falling back into the water so he could float among the small waves so he could pull his pants off. 

You blushed, moving to sink into further water, deep enough to hide yourself but to not have to tread water. You avoid his eyes, keeping your eyes on the rippling waves, listening to the patter of the waterfall behind you. 

It wasn’t until you heard the wet slap of his pants on rock and felt his warm presence against your back at you became hyper aware of him standing right behind you. You could feel his hot breath fan against your neck as he pushed your wet locks aside, draping them over one shoulder. 

“Is this fine?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to go fast. I don’t want to scare you away, but I can’t keep myself away. I should have just walked away, but I can’t when you’re so close. You said you like me too and I’ve wanted this for so long. So please, if you don’t want this, tell me now.”

“Tommy,” you breathed. The name made his breath hitch - something you caught instantly. His body stiffened against yours, his breathing picking up. Your heart was beating just as fast as his was, though you couldn’t pick up on the rapid pounding in his chest. 

“Please. If I’ve gone too far, tell me. Because if you don’t stop me, I don’t know what I will do. I’m a hormonal guy, Y/N. And I’m stranded on an island alone with the most beautiful girl int eh world. The girl I’ve admired for too long. I don’t want to hurt-”

You turned quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands and pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss to silence him. The man’s muffled grunts were lost to your lips, his body instantly reacting to yours. He pushed closer to you, his erection obvious against your leg. His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his muscled chest, wet pecs flexing anxiously with the jump in his heartbeat. Your fingers curled against his cheeks before pulling away, grinning cheekily.

“You talk to much. Maybe I should have just continued hating you.”

“Nope. This is better.”

His lips crashed back onto yours after his hasty response, tilting his head to give him as much room as possible to engulf your lips with his. Your hands eagerly slid up to his wet chocolate tresses, tangling in them to scrape at his scalp. His hands ran along your waist until he found your ass, lifting you up against him so your legs could wrap around his midsection. Things escalated quickly, heat building with the sensual kiss.

And you weren’t arguing right now.

He backed you into the shallowest part of the water, placing you down to focus on the heated kiss. His tongue darted along your plump lips until they parted, automatically shoving past them to enter your wet cavern. Tongues battled for dominance, something you easily lost. His tongue ran along your mouth, tracing every inch of it before pulling away for air, a short string of saliva still connecting your lips. 

Your chests rose and fell quickly for air before instantly delving in for more open mouth kisses. Lips dragged against each other, wet smacks mixing with the rushing water beside you. Noses bumped whenever your heads turned to get a better position, teeth clashing with every heated crash. His lips dragged along yours, sucking them teasingly before devouring them again and again.

Your hands slid down from his hair, landing on his broad shoulder first before running down his chest. Your fingers skimming along his skin made him shiver, pecs jumping under your sultry touch. His arms flexed, more veins emerging from his skin as he got excited. When your thumbs brushed against his nipples, he shuddered, breaking the kiss to let out a gasping moan.

“Don’t do that,” he rasped, a glint in the glare he sent you.

“Oh. Are your nipples sensitive, Tommy?” you cooed, smirking up at the man. A deeper groan left his lips, his face burrowing in your neck. Tiny nips and kisses were left on your skin, Thomas earning himself a moan.

“I hate that you started using that name so quickly,” he uttered deeply. “It’s making it really hard to control myself.”

“Who said you needed to control yourself?” you spoke without warning. Thomas groaned once more, hands fussing with the bra strap against your back. 

The article was nearly ripped from your skin and tossed aside, lost to the lake as it drifted away in the water. His eyes were dark, near animalistic, like he was staring at his prey right before he pounced. You weren’t telling him no; you were encouraging the hungry tiger inside. He intended to take advantage of that, even if his mind told him not to. His body spoke louder. His hunger made him salivate, taking in the sight of your bare torso before lunging. 

His head dipped down, latching onto your breast instantly. Your head fell back, unleashing a loud moan at the pleasure. His mouth wrapped around your hard bud, tongue flicking at it happily. His large, veiny hand grasped the other one, fondling it fiercely, between his long fingers. Even if you told yourself you didn’t want this, your body screamed that you did. Even if you told yourself you didn’t want to be stuck with Thomas, you were glad it was him. Even if you told yourself you didn’t like him, you knew for a fact you did.

What he was doing felt phenomenal, and you wouldn’t change that for the world right then and there.

Thomas pulled away with a pop, sucking red marks along the skin of your mounds before resuming his licking barrage on the nipple, grunting against it happily. More moans left your lips, fingers tangling in his hair to keep yourself together, giving you something to tug at while you were pleasured. Your legs rubbed together, feeling heat pooling between them the more he attacked your chest, suckling at your nipple repeatedly. When he finally switched breasts, you lost control, nearly shouting his name into the night sky.

“Oh, fuck, Thomas!” you mewled, pressing his face further into your chest. “That feels so good.”

“Shit,” he choked, prying himself from your grasp to move up to your level. His body sliding against yours allowed you to feel the obvious bulge in his boxers, your core twitching as a result. “If you keep that up, I’m going to have to fuck you senseless. You have no idea how hot that is and how fucking horny I am right now.”

“Then do it,” you let out. “Fucking fuck me already.”

“God damn.”

He didn’t ask twice. He was stripping you of your only remaining garment, tossing them with his own onto the rocks behind you. Your stare turned south to catch a glimpse of his shaft, gawking at the size. “Holy shit,” you gasped. “Is that what I was missing by hating your guts?”

His was long and hard, his hand wrapped around the girthy base to stroke it casually. The tip was swollen and red, beads of precum coming out the tip when he tugged at himself. He was much larger than any other guy you had seen - the few one night stands you managed to have were nothing compared to this. You were silently thanking the world for what had happened, giving you a chance to make things right with Thomas and to get fucked senseless by a god. You were thankful for the realization of your feelings because right now, your pussy was pleading to be filled.

“Should have talked to me sooner. We could have been fucking for a while now,” he teased. “Of course, I wanted you for more than a good lay, but I’m sure I can please you when you need it.”

“Oh? Low blow, cowboy. Sure you can stick to those guns?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

The tip ran along your folds a few times before he pushed in quickly, bottoming out in seconds. A loud, prolonged moan left your mouth, the noise drawn out and making your throat vibrate. Thomas grunted at the feeling of your tight cunt around him, your walls grasping at his hard cock eagerly. His eyes closed, trying to not cum instantly. You were wet and warm, clinging to him intermittently, hugging him tightly. The subtlest shift made you clench, another loud noise filling the air.

Before he started to move, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He gave you a chaste kiss before groaning, shifting you against him. “If it gets to be too much, stop me.”

“Alright.”

It started slow, your body bouncing against his. His hands sat on your backside, using your ass as leverage to guide your body against his. His long shaft slid in and out of you slowly, rubbing against your walls and poking at the sensitive spots. Whenever he was nearly freed, you were brought back down onto him, fully sheathing him inside your warmth. 

The speed picked up gradually until you were being slammed onto his thick cock repeatedly, enhancing the pleasure you were feeling. Your moans grew in volume, filling the night air around you. The water splashed against your sides with every diligent thrust into your tight core, aiding Thomas’ thick cock in sliding in and out of you. Nails clawed at his skin, diggin crescent-shaped moons into his shoulders while being bounced, keeping you steady and upright. 

Thomas groaned loudly, the sound of your seductive moans in his ears making him harder than he thought was possible. His chocolate pupils, darkened by lust, traveled south, traveling the features of your face the entire time. Your lips were rosy from the intense kisses you shared, your bright orbs were half-lidded with ecstasy, your cheeks were flushed under the moon that was rearing it face over the trees slowly. When his eyes befell your chest, watching your breasts bounce up and down against his moist chest, the former runner was floored. He had never seen something so wonderful - so attractive. His stomach tightened, hips thrusting faster into you, unleashing a more animalistic nature that had you screaming. 

“Oh, god!” you let out, throwing your head back. Your entire body shook, your knotting stomach flipping a million times a second. Thomas grunted out at your echoed speech, leaning forward to latch onto your breast, after a bit of trouble to keep a steady pace and attack the mound as it jostled aimlessly. One hand found its way to his wet locks, tugging at them harshly. The suckling to your peaked buds made your eyes flash white, the shaking increasing significantly as your high hit. “Oh fuck, Thomas!”

With your walls clenching, your warm cunt hugging him tightly and his cock growing slick with your arousal, his head began to spin. Maybe it was the lack of air; he wasn’t breathing while he bucked into you, nibbling at your breast with all of his might. His thrusts grew sloppy, fighting to control himself while you had your orgasm. When he finally felt your body going limp, he moved forward, resting you on a shallow rock and pulling himself free. 

You blinked your eyes opened, glancing at the dark haired man that no longer occupied your used core. Your pussy throbbed, trying to clench around nothing but air, screaming at its sudden emptiness. Thomas’ eyes were glued on you - all of you - taking in your fucked-out expression, round breasts that were littered with red love marks, and your chest heaving with uneven breaths. His large hand, covered in veins, wrapped around his cock, stroking himself quickly and harshly, pulling the skin of his length over the tip slightly. The man hunched forward slightly, refusing to give in until he was grunting loudly, utter a few curses before releasing himself onto your form.

Thick ropes of his hot seed shot from the tip, dotting up your stomach to your chest, covering your breasts in his white, steamy essence. Bits of water washed the droplets away when it splashed across your body, but he licked his lips at the sight of you covered in his cum, looking hot with the white strings as your form. His unruly noises got louder when you ran your fingers along the few drops that remained, particularly on your breasts, rubbing the thick substance around your taut buds slowly.

“Shit,” he huffed, kneeling on the rock beside you. His lips connected to yours in a searing kiss, your lips instantly parting to allow his tongue to invade your cheeks. Your tongues tangled together messily, noisy open-mouth kisses smacking against each other in haste. Thomas’ hand slithered between your legs, shamelessly shoving two fingers into your sensitive core. The moan that he ripped from your was lost to his throat. His fingers shoved into your pussy quickly, making you writhe under him. 

The kiss broke, allowing your shaking words to escape. “Don’t go so rough.”

“Are you a bit sensitive after you took me?” he asked cheekily, making you laugh slightly.

“I guess you could say that. I think I’m a little overstimulated. I haven’t had sex in a while.”

Thomas blinked, hand stilling. “You’re had sex before?”

Your eyes met, confusion in your eyes. “I mean, of course. I tried dating a guy once after we came to the safe haven, but he was only good for a single lay to relieve some stress from everything,” you revealed. With a giggle, you continued, “Don’t tell me you haven’t had some action since we got here.”

“Oh. I-I mean.. Well, yeah. Who hasn’t?” You didn’t seem convinced, earning a deep sigh from Thomas. His fingers removed themselves from your core, the man sitting on the rock beside you. You sat up yourself, hugging your chest slightly. “I guess if you count the one night stand I had after getting really drunk on Gally’s drink.”

“No way. With who?”

Thomas chuckled at your enthusiasm. “I can’t really remember. She was gone before I woke up in the chicken coop. I think her name was Mandy because after that night, she never talked to me again.”

Your laughter grew louder, leaning on the frowning male. “That’s fucking great.”

“Laugh it up, bitch.”

“I will,” you teased. “But, how come you never tried for more?”

“I mean,” he sighed, looking down at you. “I had my eyes on someone I really liked. But, she didn’t like me back. Wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me. She hated my guts.”

“Well,” you sighed, looking up at him with a joking smile, “she’s lost out. You should forget about her.”

Thomas laughed, leaning down to kiss you softly. His hand, wet and dripping with water, moved up to caress your cheek as his lips dragged against yours slowly. “I think I already am because I have someone amazing with me now.”

Together you sat under the moonlight in the water for a while, cuddling until you felt your feet wrinkling and your body shiver from the cold that was setting in. Thomas exited the water first, lending a hand to help you out afterwards. Gathering your discarded clothes, you hobbled back into the warmth of the cave. While you laid out the clothes to dry, Thomas added more wood to the dying fire, letting it flare back up before you both snuggled together on the blanket, seeking warmth with each other.

You faced him, staring up at his sharp features, fingers dancing along his muscled arms and speckled cheeks. His biceps flexed under your touch, cheeks curling upwards with a smile at the gentle skim of your touch. His own arm was draped over your waist, drawing imaginary shapes to the small of your back. You had never been so comfortable or content in your life, having spent so long running from Cranks or escaping from WICKED in hopes of finding a safe place to live in peace, praying to harmony in your unpredictable life. You frowned at the thought; you had misses so much because of your judgments. 

“I’m still sorry,” you whispered lowly. Thomas hummed, waiting for you to continue. “I’m sorry for everything, Tommy. For shunning you, judging you, mistreating you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine, babe,” he mused, kissing your forehead. “I get it. You don’t need to beat yourself up about it.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he laughed. His eyes met yours, giving you a soft smile before leaning in and kissing you on your lips softly. “We just need to move on from here.”

“I guess so.”

“Just give me a chance to show you that I’m a good guy,” he teased, making you laugh. 

“Yeah, if we ever get off this island,” you said. “But, being stranded with you isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Are you saying that shipwrecking with me here was going to suck?” he gasped.

“Tommy, I didn’t even want to fish with your ass!”

“But I have a fine ass.”

“Yeah, I know,” you teased, daring to roll onto him, straddling his waist with ease. Your lips connected in a fiery kiss, earning a deep grunt from the former runner. “I watched you climb a tree today. You have a nice behind.”

“So do you,” he rasped lowly, cupping your backside tightly in his palms. The action made you mewl, grinding your hips against his sharply. Your lips connected once more, letting your tongues tease each other. Thomas’ cock was growing hard under you, sliding between your moist pussy lips. The man murmured against your lips after breaking your kiss, “I’m getting horny again.”

“I can’t say I disagree,” you uttered, grinding on him harder, two moans filling your small hideaway. His cock was twitching against your wet core, the hands that remained on your ass helping you rock against him faster. “Fuck, I just want you inside me again.”

“If we do, I can’t promise I will last long… or pull out in time to not cum inside you.”

“That’s fine,” you let out. 

Thomas grinned seductively, teeth twinkling mischievously. “You know, if that happens, there will be a chance you could get pregnant.”

“I know, but I trust you.”

The words made his heart jump slightly. “So, are you saying that you want me to fill you with my cum? You want me to fuck you silly and maybe put a baby inside you?”

“I mean, I will take the fucking me silly, but if a baby comes with it, you’re helping to raise it.”

“Deal,” he gasped.

Within much thought, he was aligning with your core, sliding into you. You moaned at the feeling of him filling you up once more, your pussy full with his giant cock. The tip of his cock brushed against your g-spot, as well as new spots he hadn’t hit before. The new position came with a new angle, and the new angle let him reach deeper inside you. He stayed still for a moment before guiding you along his length, rocking you back and forth along his shaft.

You laid against his as you moved along his cock, breasts pressed against his chest. Your lips danced together occasionally, dragging against each other slowly before parting to let our low moans. The subtle smack from the kisses made your heart race and core clench, squeezing around him tightly. They were such loving kisses, but they made your walls tight and wet.

Pushing up on his chest, separating from the multitude of kisses you shared, you picked up speed, riding him quickly. His cock slid in and out of you quickly, your body rising up and slamming back onto him before he could escape your grasp. Your speed gradually built until you were slapping your hips together loudly, sweaty skin sticking together and pulling apart with slick noises. 

Thomas licked his lips, eying your bouncing breasts for a bit before turning to watch his cock slip in and out of you. He was familiar with your breasts moving when he was inside you, but he thoroughly enjoyed the way his cock would emerge covered in your sweet arousal, making his length glisten in the firelight, before it disappeared back inside your tight cunt, throbbing with the need to explode. He wanted to fill you up, spilling every last ounce he had into your hole. He wanted to watch the white seed drip from your lips, oozing out because you were so full of him.

The desire to do so was overwhelming, so much that the man lifted you off of him with a short whine, and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. He found himself ramming back into you from behind, hearing a short scream rip from your throat when he wasted no time in slamming himself into you. He bucked wildly, his speed nearly godly, thrusting himself deep into you. His new speed and position made you scream his name loudly, clawing at the bunched up blankets under you. Your body shifted with every thrust, only kept steady from a firm hand he kept on your hip. The other hand planted firmly to your backside, a reddening handprint pressed into your skin. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he growled, pushing harder. His hips snapped into your ass, balls slapping against your folds. The sounds of slapping skin mixed with the uncontrollable noises that left your mouth in panted breaths, making Thomas grin widely. “You like this, Y/N? You like when I fill you up with my giant fucking cock?”

“Tommy-”

“You love when I fuck you into the ground like this? You just can’t get enough, can you?”

“No,” you managed to utter. “I need more.”

“What was that?” he asked, the hand that had been slapping at your ass occasionally sliding up your back to your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, hearing a choked breath leave. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you made no effort to remove it, so he figured you were fine. Maybe, you were even enjoying the restriction. “Speak up, baby. I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck, Thomas. Fill me up already! Please!”

“God, you just love being filled up. Such a dirty girl, wanting to be filled up with my cum. You want all of my cum inside you? You want me to fill you up with all of my cum?”

“Yes!” You hollered weakly. Dots were blinking in your vision, your body tightening with your inevitable release. “Please fill me up Tommy. I want to cum with you. I love the feeling of your cock so much, but i want to feel you inside me.”

“Fuck, thats hot,” he muttered, shoving into you faster than before. He pushed up onto his feet, releasing your neck so he could steady you against him. His entire body was used to push into you, every part of his body leveraged to excite you over the top. He wanted to make your next orgasm one to remember. He wanted to have you releasing on his cock more than you thought was possible. He wanted to explode every drop into you. “Cum with me, Y/N. Please baby, cum all over my fucking cock.”

You moaned in response, body nearly going limp from your orgasm. Your stomach hurt from trying to hold back, so you didn’t keep it in. The knot was burned away, and you were spilling everything you had onto his length, making it slick enough to still slide in and out of you as he thrust sloppily. Your walls were clinging to him desperately, convulsing with every droplet you released that stuck to his length.

Your tight, wet cunt made Thomas’ head spin like before, his own high nearly. Your core was hugging him close, squeezing him lifeless. The warmth was making him throb and twitch, finally exploding his load into you with one loud grunting groan. His thick seed shot from the tip, painting along your inner walls like white paint. The former runner let out a prolonged mewl of approval, thrusts slowing, letting your walls milk him of every last bit he had built up. 

Your bodies finally collapsed from exhaustion, Thomas remaining inside you until he had softened to a tiny chub. His fascination led him to watch his arousal slip from your pussy lips, the man licking his lips slowly. 

“That’s something to remember…” he whispered to himself before moving to kiss your shoulder blades. “We should get some rest. Then tomorrow, we can try to find a way off this island and back home.”

He didn’t receive a response.

“Y/N?”

He turned you over, finding you sound asleep, chest rising and falling steadily. You had a gentle smile ebbed onto your lips, resting peacefully. The man chuckled, pushing back some of the hair that stuck to your sweaty forward, placing a sweet, loving kiss to your temple. Laying beside you, he curled you into his chest, struggling to pull the blanket over you to keep you warm in case the fire died out while you slept. His head rested on his sore arm, but he didn’t mind the pain; his comfort came from you beside him, in his arms - finally.

“Sleep well. And thank you for giving me a chance. I didn’t think getting stranded would be such a good thing...”

~

His eyes fluttered open, finding a small stream of sunlight filling the cave. It took a moment to process his surroundings. The fire had died, he was in a cave, and you were nuzzled into his side, bare naked and sound asleep. Thomas thought he was dreaming before recalling the wave and the boat crash, finding you stranded on an unknown island without a way home. He also remember the heated evening of confessions, apologies and sex that blew his mind.

Not in any rush to move, he pulled you into him, nestling his face in the rats nest atop your head. He could feel your lips curling up against his skin at this, the man chuckling. “Good morning,” he let out, voice raspy and deep with sleep.

“Good morning,” you muttered lowly. “Can we not move for a while? I hurt.”

“I’d figure,” he laughed. “I fucked you a lot last night.”

“And honestly?” you hummed. “I regret nothing.”

“That’s relieving actually. I’m glad I won’t have to be punched later to forcing you to have sex with me.”

“Never,” you laughed, struggling to look up at him. Thomas glanced down at your sleepy face, placing a soft peck to your lips. 

“So, you are going to give me a chance later right? Like, when we can finally get home?”

“I thought I made that clear when I apologized for how I’ve been treating you,” you scowled playfully, punching his chest weakly. “And you kind of fucked me a lot. You’re not leaving me dry for a while.”

“I can handle that,” he smirked, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

The steamy kiss would ahve led to a heated round of unruly morning sex if your ears hadn’t perked at the sounds outside the cave. You pulled away from a disappointed Thomas, sitting up abruptly. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked.

Listening carefully, you heard the faint call.

“-Mas!”

“-/N!”

“Someone is calling our names?” you asked, glancing at the man who shrugged. 

“Did someone manage to find us?” he thought aloud.

“Thomas!”

“Y/N!”

“Oh my god,” Thomas gasped, jumping to his feet and rushing to the cave entrance. “That’s Minho!”

“What?!” You exclaimed back, running after the man.

In your excitement, you both ran from the cave in search of the voices calling your names. Thomas’ hand clasped around yours to keep from getting separated, keeping you from falling over any trees or rocks. The voices grew louder as you rushed through the sea of green trees, pushing through bushes and in the mud. 

In the distance, you locked eyes with the boy calling your name - Thomas friend from the maze and the former leader of the runners. Minho’s eyes grew when he saw you both run from the bushed, calling his name. You halted in the middle of a small clearing, panting for breath.

“Thomas, Y/N,” Minho uttered softly before his eyebrows scrunched up. “Why are you guys naked?”

“Eh?” you let out, looking down at yourself. Realizing what had happened, you shrieked loudly, hugging yourself. Thomas turned to hug you, glaring back at Minho.

“Look away!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Minho called, turning around. “I don’t want to stare at your bare ass anyway!”

“Fuck you,” Thomas growled. “How did you find us anyway?”

“We’ve been searching all night. When you didn’t come back, we pulled out the small motorboat to search for you. Someone mentioned the waves had picked up, so we thought something might have happened. We found the boat wrecked on the island-”

“Wait,” you called, stopping him. “There was a motorboat?”

“Yeah,” Minho said. “It’s always in the boat we used to get here. It’s not used very often to conserve fuel and all, but it’s pretty decently sized and everything.”

“We had a motorboat, and you set us out to go fishing on a wooden rowboat?!”

Minho blinked “Ummmm…”

“I’m going to kill you, Minho!”

The former runner took off with you hot on his tail, uncaring that you were still barren to the world. Thomas sighed as he watched you chase the man around the clearing, weaving through trees before tackling the man to the ground, scarring him as you beat him up. 

“I guess I should be thankful,” Thomas told himself. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have ended up stranded here and had the night we did.”

“Thomas, help! Get her off me!”

“Can’t help, sorry,” Thomas called, turning away. “I need to go get our stuff from the cave. Plus, she hates me, remember?”

“Bullshit!”

“Take it easy on him, babe. He’s our way home!” Thomas teased, walking away.

“He dies tonight! I’m roasting Minho alive!”

“Good talk!”

“Thomas, don’t leave me with this monster! Something obviously happened and you can’t leave me like this!” Minho called, but Thomas was gone. “THOMAS!”

I’m not gonna tag anyone right now because my tag list is far too outdated and needs to be refreshed. I will figure that out... later.