#I’m going to go lie in a pit until tomorrow night excuse me

[im-no-jedi]

J E N N I F E R

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

“I’m just… saying that it might make things worse, to shut off and—” Jason pointed at the mound of paper on the table, “obsess over this stuff instead.”

“You think?” Dick asked. “No shit.”

Jason blinked. “Wait, are you—”

“Did you think it never occurred to me,” said Dick, “that I might be spinning out?”

“I didn’t say you were spinning out.”

“Were you thinking that maybe,” Dick leaned back against the table edge and crossed his arms, carefully casual in a way Jason didn’t like, “hey maybe I, Dick Grayson, haven’t noticed how it feels to be forty-nine hours into a case and puking in the bathroom sink?”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe I just haven’t realized why my vision blurs out and I can’t think straight, and it’s weird how this happens—” Dick held up a hand, and Jason could see his fingers shaking, “—if I keep going for too long.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, this might be,” Dick said, flatly, “bad.” 

Jason glanced down at his boots to break the eye contact. “I’ll back off,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“It might be bad that I can’t sleep until I’m falling-over exhausted. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking all these cases—”

“I said I’ll back off.”

“Or writing all these notes or spending weeks on research, more than that on training—”

“Listen—”

“I probably shouldn’t be leading all these teams, huh?” Dick smiled in a way that reminded Jason of what he should have remembered before he opened his own mouth: that Dick could be very, very dangerous. “Can I get your opinion on that?”

“I’ll—”

“I KNOW!”

Jason stumbled back a step in shock. 

“I KNOW that I’m working too hard!” Dick yelled, “And I KNOW why I do it!”

“Okay!” Jason backed away again. “Okay, I get it!”

“I work so I don’t have to think! I’d rather drop dead doing this shit than stop for the millisecond it would take to feel again! Are you happy now?”

“Calm down, okay? I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to feel,” said Dick, gesturing around him, “so I’m going to stand right here over and over again.”

“Fine!”

“And I’m going to keep shutting down because it goddamn WORKS!”

Dick turned away again, bending over the table like he hadn’t said anything at all. Jason stood frozen for a moment, staring. 

“Does it?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Do you have something better?”

Jason looked down at his own hands and saw that they were shaking too.

“No,” he said.

“Then fuck off.”

Jason turned to leave, but Dick, it appeared, wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“I’m alive,” he said. “I’m standing and walking and doing all the things that matter.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve had enough of— enough of asking for help and getting—” Dick jerked an arm above his head, still turned away. “I don’t want to hear that the way I live is self-destructive. I already know. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I’m saying, that’s why I’m trying.” 

“Yeah.”

“Just… show me something better, or let me self-destruct.”

Jason fumbled awkwardly for something to say. “I’m sure— I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but whoever that is— I’m sure they’re… trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” said Dick.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were trying to land a cheap shot,” said Dick, “and feel like you’re better than me.”

Yes, that was true. Jason wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he regretted it, and those were different things.  

“I guess that makes me an asshole.”

“And a hypocrite.” Dick turned around again and leaned back in the same way, quiet, in control. “You never stop either… not since the pit anyway.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean it’s different, obviously, because I don’t think you’re trying to hide it. Me, I don’t want cracks to show. I don’t want all this grief and anger and— you said despair, right?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want the despair to show because I want to look whole, but you—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“You want to look like a week-old corpse rotting on the concrete, and may I say?” Dick smiled. “Excellent performance. You look exactly like that.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“It’s a world of difference,” Dick continued, “because I— I’m pushing through pain… and you’re pushing to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jason found that it was difficult to breathe. 

“I could yell back for that,” he said. It came out softly, more soft than he meant, as Jason shoved away something very close to shame.

“Do it.”

“No. I think it’s funny when people call me the angry one.” Jason looked down at his shaking hands again. 

“I am angry,” he conceded, “but you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Thematic,” Dick snapped. “Get out.” 

“No. You opened this book, so we’re going to read it. You’re right.”

“Leave.”

“You’re right, I do exactly what you just said I do. Sometimes I don’t sleep for days, and it’s not because I can’t.”

Well, that might not be fully true, so Jason stopped to backtrack.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I don’t know if I could sleep, if I really tried, but that’s the point I’m making. I don’t try. I don’t want to sleep.”

“I said leave.”

“It’ll be four in the morning and I’m slumped sideways on my couch watching surveillance footage I don’t need to watch, because I know when I finally drag myself to the bathroom mirror, I’ll look like hell—”

“Get out!”

“—and I want to! I feel like hell, I feel like goddamn Brutus in the Devil’s jaws, and I want to look like it. If I look like death, that means my pain is real.”

“Get out or regret it.”

“Oh, I know it’s self-destructive,” said Jason, smiling his best unnerving smile. “How could I miss it when I’m blacking out in stairwells and picking fights on purpose, just to get kicked around?”

That particular sentence, it appeared, caught Dick’s attention, because he stayed quiet this time, glaring from across the room.

Well then, Jason decided, it was time to push further. 

“Let’s get personal, shall we? Why do I live in this fucking city to see you or him or whoever else is living in the capes this week? I’m not shooting for reconciliation!”

“Well?”

“I’m going to stay here and cause problems until every single one of you hates me enough to shove me away. How’s my performance, by the way? Is it working? I’d love to get your opinion.”

Dick made a face that Jason couldn’t interpret, so Jason chose to press on. 

“It’ll hurt when I pull that off because I do actually care about you, but you know what? I’ll like that. Maybe someday all of this will kill me, and I’ll kind of like that too.” 

Jason paused a beat to let Dick interject, but Dick didn’t. 

“Your turn,” said Jason pleasantly. “Thoughts?”

Nothing.

“I like the aesthetic of self-destruction,” said Jason. “I’m going to look in the mirror tomorrow and see dark circles and scars, and it’s going to feel like being myself in a way that nothing else does.”

In that moment, watching Dick glare, Jason felt very tired— not in a way that sleep could solve, and not in a way that anyone could fix. No matter what Jason did, no matter what he tried, he could always feel himself sinking. He was empty and heavy at the same time, somehow trapped in place, unable to do anything except lie in his own blood.

A rotting corpse indeed.

“I’m not judging you,” said Jason. “I don’t have the space for that. I won’t tell you to just… change. I’m sick of hearing that too, hearing that I don’t have to do this to myself, that I am doing this to myself.”

Dick nodded. Jason wasn’t sure at what, but it felt like permission to keep going, so he did.

“I know I’m holding on to something I shouldn’t,” Jason admitted, even though it hurt to say out loud. “I know, but I can’t let go when there’s nothing else to take. I don’t have anything profound to say. I don’t… know what else there is.”

That was it. That was all Jason had, so he shrugged and stared down at the floor, waiting.

“I think if I stop working I’ll fall apart,” said Dick, finally, “and this time I won’t be able to scrape myself together.”

“Yeah.”

“I think fine, so I don’t have to keep going. I don’t have to shove away the dark and force myself through, but what would happen if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would be a shivering, hollow shape on my floor, maybe forever. I don’t know what I want to be, but I can’t be… I can’t be only that.” 

Jason understood.

“It’s hard,” said Dick. “I always hear— and say, I say this to other people— that things can be okay. I guess it’s true, but does it matter?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Unless I leave the cave right now and never come back, this is my life. I have an apartment and a fucked-up family—”

“Thanks.”

“—and I spend every night jumping through smog and the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done.”

“Saving people,” Jason noted.

“Win some,” said Dick, “lose some. How many times have you watched a person die?”

“A few.”

“A few.” Dick shook his head. “I know too much, but I have too much to leave behind.”

“I have a guy who makes passports on demand, if you change your mind,” said Jason. “He’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Prints while you wait.”

Dick shot Jason a flat kind of look.

“What?” Jason asked. “It would simplify my plans.”

Dick half-smiled at that, and Jason got the sense that they were done yelling, maybe, for awhile.

“I feel trapped, and I don’t know how to fix myself,” said Dick, “while I’m still… here.” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I know. Me too.”

“It isn’t getting any easier.” 

Jason thought about that for awhile. It would be nice to have an answer— something simple to say, some match to light in their common ground— but Jason couldn’t find one, so he shrugged again and hoped that understanding would be enough. 

It had to be something, didn’t it?

It was the best he could do. There were times, Jason figured, to talk about breathing exercises and the mess of self-help books piled on his dresser, but he knew this wasn’t one of them. They could call it catharsis, he decided, and leave it at that. 

“We could say it’s Bruce’s fault?” Jason suggested, since he was out of other ideas. “I like blaming Bruce for the shit I do.”

“You do?”

“Fuck off.”

Dick smiled fully at that one. “I’m not above it either.”

“Great,” said Jason. “Can I leave a note saying we blame him? No context at all, maybe on a single post-it? I think it would be really funny.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bounce after that, for real this time.” Jason spun a finger in a circle a few times, pointing around the cave. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah.” Dick tapped a finger against the table a few times, like he was thinking. After a moment, he pulled a bag from the edge and started packing up his things. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

Fin.

---

art by @doc-squash​

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Nice To Meet You

Bucky x Wilson!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut (duh, so kids go home.), Godzilla Vs Kong spoiler

A/N: I’m trying to get back to it. I’m so rusty, so please bear with me. 😩

Also, this story has unprotected sex. Remember that this is just fiction and if he ain’t got no rubber then he can’t be your lover.

Word Count: 3,554 (My bad.)

********

You pulled into the driveway of the home you shared with your older siblings and nephews. You popped the trunk before getting out in preparation to get the many groceries you'd just bought. 

You were bent over in the trunk when you heard a man's voice. 

"Excuse me?" He called out. 

You stopped what you were doing and turned to him. "Yes?" 

"Hi, I'm looking for Sam Wilson, does he live here?" He asked. 

"Yes, he does, but he isn't here right now." You answered. 

"Oh okay, um, I'm —" he started. 

"I know who you are," you interrupted him. I'm Y/N Wilson." 

"I didn't know Sam was married," he said shocked. 

You turned around and pulled a case of water from the trunk and gave it to him. Then sat another on top of it. 

"I'm not Sam's wife. I'm his youngest sister." You told him and hooked bags onto his arms. "This way," you led him to the large porch and into the house. 

You walked him into the kitchen where he set everything down, thanked him and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge for him. 

"I didn't know Sam had a sister. It's nice to meet you," he reached out to shake your hand. 

You grabbed the gloved hand and shook it. 

"Sam won't be back until tomorrow. He and Sarah went to get supplies for the boat a few towns over and they’re staying the night." 

"Sam has a boat?" He asked, confused. 

"What exactly do you know about my brother?" 

"Not much, I guess," he shrugged. 

"Wow, a man risks his life and has to go on the run for two years because of you and you couldn't take the time to ask him about his life or family?" You raised your brow at him. 

"Okay, I deserved that," he agreed. 

"Mmm hmm," you turned to put the groceries away. 

"Uh, I'll come back tomorrow when Sam's here." 

"How'd you get here? I didn't see a car out there." 

"I kind of walked from the bus station," he scratched the back of his neck. 

"And where are you staying?" You followed up. 

"I'm good at figuring those things out." 

"Right," you rolled your eyes. "You can stay here tonight. I have to meet my brother and sister at the docks tomorrow and we can just ride up together." 

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose. I'll be fine." He insisted. 

"Have you eaten?" You asked. 

His stomach decided to growl loudly at that moment. It wasn't exactly unusual for Bucky to forget to eat. 

"I'm gonna fry some fish for lunch. The guest room is the third room on the left upstairs. You can put your things in there. Also, lose the gloves. You don't have to hide who you are here." 

Bucky smiled at your back and followed your instructions. He looked at all of the family photos on the wall as he made his way to the room. 

He felt bad for the twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at how happy you all looked. He wished he still had photos of his family to look back on. 

Bucky put his bag on the big plush bed and changed his shirt. He was happy you said he didn't have to hide who he was there. It was hot as hell with those gloves on. 

********

When he returned to the kitchen you were already outside lighting up the deep fryer. 

"Anything I can help with?" He asked when he walked out onto the deck. 

"Absolutely, you can make the salad," you handed him the ingredients and a knife. 

The two of you worked in silence until you were finished and sat down to eat. 

"Thank you for letting me stay here," he finally said. 

"Of course, you're Sam's friend." 

"I don't know about friends. More like coworkers," he laughed. 

"Wow, is that a smile? You should do it more often. It's nice." You suggested. 

Bucky turned red. He couldn't remember when he was complimented last for a non violent act. 

"So, why are you here, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Just needed to talk to Sam about some things and you can call me Bucky." 

"I hope you aren't here to talk to him about the shield. We tried to talk him out of it at first, but he made a decision and just like the rest of us, you need to respect that." 

"He gave it away," he said with an attitude. 

"Actually, he didn't. He put it away, there's a difference. And maybe if you tried to understand his choices instead of having an attitude about it, you'd understand why he did what he did." You matched his fire. 

"Either way, I'm taking it back, because he deserves it. He's the only one who should have it." 

"I agree, but I won't let you give him anymore shit about what he felt was right." 

"I thought Sam was the superhero in this family?" He asked sarcastically. 

"Yeah, Sam protects the world and I protect Sam. You should be happy you're talking to me and not Sarah though, she would've punched you by now," you got up and took your empty plate inside. 

Bucky chuckled and watched as you walked away. His intention wasn't to come there and talk about the shield, but he still admired the way you had your brother's back. 

When you walked back out you had two drinks in your hands. You sat one down in front of him and went to your chair. 

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the red and orange drink. 

"A tequila sunrise. Heavy on the tequila," you sipped from your straw. 

"You know I can't get drunk, right?" 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah, the serum speeds up my metabolism, so I can't get drunk," he shrugged as he took a huge gulp. 

"I'm sure that sucks." 

"You have no idea." 

You sat outside and talked until the sun went down and then you went inside to clean up the kitchen. You washed dishes while Bucky dried them off and put them away. 

Bucky's phone was sitting on the table when you first heard the familiar dating app notification sound. You ignored it, but by the third time you finally asked if he was gonna check it. 

"It's probably no one," he said. 

"No one? You're getting matches like crazy. Let's see if they're any good," you picked up the phone. 

"What? No, absolutely not." He took the phone from you. 

"Why not? You could potentially find the love of your life out here," you sat down and patted the seat of the chair next to you. 

He finally gave in and sat next to you. Bucky opened his dating app and the two of you looked through his potential baes. He was swiping left on most of them so quick that you had to stop him. 

"You're not even reading their bios. Give it a chance, jeez." 

He slowed down a bit. 

"Melissa, likes long walks on the beach and playing in the mud? Next." He swiped. 

"Ooh, she's cute. Ella, an aspiring model who loves comedy. And look at that, her favorite movie is Robocop," you bit your lip to hold in your laugh. 

"You're worse than Sam," he said annoyed and put his phone away. “And it’s Robocop 3. That’s like the worst one.”

"Oh come on, Bucky, give her a chance she has two dogs!" You laughed. 

"I'm more of a cat guy actually," he said. 

"You're adorable," you continued laughing, “let's go watch a movie," you put your hand out for him to grab and led him into the front room. 

You turned on the TV and scrolled through for something to watch and finally settled on Godzilla Vs Kong figuring the action would be fun. 

"Five bucks says Godzilla kicks the crap out of Kong," you said. 

"What?? King Kong was first. It's only right that he reigns supreme in this situation," he countered. 

"Put up or shut up, Buck," you shrugged. 

He pulled the money from his wallet and sat it on the table. 

Halfway through the movie you were both talking smack to one another. Bucky hadn't even realized how comfortable he'd become. Your legs were across his lap and he was holding them in place. Casually rubbing circles on your thigh every few minutes. 

When Godzilla pinned Kong down and the fight seemed to be over, you jumped up in celebration. 

"Yessss!!!! The dinosaur for the winnnn!!" You danced in front of him. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, show off," he chuckled. 

You finished the remainder of the movie teasing one another along the way, when it ended you went up to get ready for bed. 

*******

Once you were done with your shower you put on your pajamas and went to the guest room to check on Bucky. 

He was standing in the window shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned looking out into the dark yard. You stared at his back. Your eyes tracing his entire body. 

You shifted your stance as you felt your body starting to react to the sight of him. Your pussy was getting wet causing you to forget why you'd even gone to the room in the first place. 

"Everything okay?" You heard his voice break your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Um, yeah, I was just coming to make sure you didn't need anything before I went to bed?" 

"No, I'm okay, thank you." He smirked. "You know you can just ask whatever you want to know." 

You walked further into the room never taking your eyes off where his flesh ended and his metal arm began. You reached up to touch him and he flexed his arm a little causing the plates to shift. 

You jumped back slightly before running your finger down the cool metal and then touching the scar he had. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked quietly. 

"Not anymore, but I still remember the pain," he answered. 

"You're a nice guy, Bucky and I really wish that this never had to happen to you. Although, I can't lie and say that I don't think it's really cool." You ran your fingers over the metal again. 

He took your chin in between his fingers and redirected your gaze to his eyes. He's wanted to kiss you since lunch and has been doing his best to hold back out of respect for his friend. 

"Can I kiss you?" He said barely above a whisper. 

You didn't even answer, just pressed your lips to his. The kiss was needy. You'd both been craving each other all day. He let his hands fall to the small of your back and you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Bucky picked you up and was leading you over to the bed when you could hear your phone ringing in the other room. You broke the kiss and he lowered you to the floor. 

"Shit!" You ran from the room. 

You picked up the phone and saw that it was Sam trying to FaceTime you. You hurried to answer. 

"Hey bro!" You said happily. 

"What you doing? What took you so long?" He immediately asked. 

"I was downstairs when I heard the phone, rudeness," you lied. 

Sam just looked at you. He could always tell when you were lying. Even one as small as that. You decided to switch the subject before he asked more questions. 

"Hey so guess who stopped by?" You said as you walked down the hall to the other room. 

You peeked into the guest room before going in. Bucky had put his shirt back on and stood when he saw you coming in. You stood next to him and put him in the camera. 

" Hi, Sam," Bucky said dryly. 

It may have seemed like a normal greeting, but he was really annoyed that he'd interrupted a moment he'd built up the courage to have all day. 

"Hey, what are you doing in my house Wall-E?" He chuckled. 

"I came to talk to you, but you're obviously not here." 

"Yeah, I put him up in the guest room for the night and we'll meet you down at the docks tomorrow." 

"Alright... You'd better not be getting sweet on my baby sister either," he cut his eyes at Bucky. 

"First of all, my sex life is none of your business. Secondly, there is no sweetness." You rolled your eyes. "Where's Sarah?" 

"You know she needs an hour long shower before bed just like you," he responded in a snarky tone. 

"Well, I'm going to bed, so tell her I said goodnight. I love y'all and we'll see you tomorrow." You said before hanging up. 

You put your phone on the charger for the night and when you turned around Bucky was standing at the door. 

"Goodness!" You yelled as you pressed a hand to your chest. 

He didn't say anything, just rushed over and started kissing you again. This time, even hungrier. 

Your tongues met and your body tingled. His hand gripped beneath your thigh as the other held him up. 

You broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. The few seconds felt like an eternity for Bucky. He never wanted to take his lips off you, but he did once more. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked as he trailed kisses down your body. 

He was finally on his knees in front of you. Face in between your thighs. 

"I need to hear you say it, doll." He kissed one thigh. 

"Yes," you breathed. 

"Yes, what?" He kissed the other thigh further down. 

"I'm sure, Bucky. I want you. Please," you buried your fingers in his hair. 

He licked your clit slowly at first. Taking you all in and tasting your nectar. It had been so damn long since he had such a pretty pussy in his face. 

You could hear him moaning as he sucked and slurped on your clit. 

"Ooh, fuck baby, yes," you moaned. 

Bucky's dick was screaming for release from his jeans. It was pressing hard against the fabric and ready for your touch, but he wasn't done with you just yet. 

He spread your thighs wider and stuck his tongue in your tight pussy. He tongue fucked you until you felt your first orgasm approaching. You reached down and started rubbing your clit. 

"Yeah, play with that pussy. Good girl," he praised. 

You rubbed faster. Bucky stuck his tongue back inside and let you fuck his face some more. Your legs shook and the warm juices flowed onto his tongue. He moved your hand and licked from your hole to your clit. 

"Told you I was more of a cat guy," he smiled. 

"Shut up and share," you grabbed his face and stuck your tongue out to taste yourself on his lips. 

You pushed his pants down and tried to flip him, so you could take him into your mouth, but he wouldn't budge. 

"No, need you now," he said as he slowly pushed inside of you. "Fuck," he said in your ear. 

He paused. He knew that if he moved he'd embarrass himself for sure, but you were so wet and tight. Fitting him perfectly. 

Bucky buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly started to move inside of you. Allowing you to adjust to him without hurting you too much. 

"You feel so good." 

Hearing you say that made him pick up the pace. He rolled his hips faster and pushed your knees to your chest. He wanted you to feel every last inch of him inside of you. 

He ripped your night shirt in half and exposed your breasts, watching them jiggle as he slammed into your pussy. 

Now he wanted to watch something else jiggle, so he pulled out and turned you on to your stomach. He pulled you up by the waist onto your knees and slid his hard cock back inside of you. 

"Fuck me," he demanded as he slapped each of your ass cheeks. 

You obliged and threw your ass back on his slick coated dick and he watched your ass bounce in the process. He knew he wasn't going to last long like this. 

"That's it, doll, fuck me. I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours." He said. 

His words caused you to cum. Your pussy clenched around him so tight and you knew when you heard the soft, "Oh fuck," leave his lips that he was about to explode. 

Bucky pulled out of you and stood on the bed. He pumped his warm thickness into your waiting mouth while moaning loudly. 

When he was done, you let some of the cum drip from your tongue. He slapped his dick in it and you swallowed the rest. 

"Good girl," he dropped to his knees and kissed you roughly. 

He fell back onto the bed taking you with him. You laid on his arm and traced his jawline with your finger. 

"You're beautiful," he said to you. 

"Thank you," you smiled. 

"Should I start you another bath?" 

"No, I can take one in the morning." 

"Good, because I don't want you to leave anyway." He kissed your forehead. 

"Get some rest," you told him. 

He looked tired and you could tell that he sleeps horribly at night. 

Bucky closed his eyes. You waited for a few minutes before going to the bathroom to clean up. When you came back and laid down, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. 

You snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep.

********

When you awoke the next morning Bucky's arms were still wrapped around you. 

"Good morning," he said and planted a kiss on your shoulder. 

"How'd you know I was awake?" Your voice still laced with sleep. 

"Your breathing changed," he kissed you again. 

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. His metal hand traced a cool trail between your breasts and down to your clit. 

You spread your legs to give him better access and then your phone started ringing. You rolled eyes when you saw Sam's name. This is the second time he's ruined your moment. 

"Hello?" You answered with an attitude. 

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," he said. 

"Samuel, it's literally," you looked at your phone for the time, "shit, it's 10am??" 

"Yeah, exactly you slept in. Get your butt up." 

Bucky didn't care that Sam was on the phone. He slid his fingers inside your pussy and pumped them slowly. Your body quivered beneath his touch. 

"I'm getting — I'll call you when we're on the way." You quickly hung up. 

Bucky chuckled. He moved his fingers faster inside of you and sucked a nipple into his mouth. 

Your orgasm was so close and then he pulled his fingers out. Your eyes popped open and the satisfied smirk on his face let you know that he'd done it on purpose. 

"Next time, don't answer the phone, doll." He kissed your lips and walked towards the door. "Oh and don't even think about touching yourself." He said before he disappeared. 

He was out of his mind. You quickly grabbed your toy from your drawer and went into the bathroom. You turned on the shower and sucked the vibrator into your mouth to wet it. 

You put your foot up on the tub and slowly fucked yourself with the toy. Your eyes were pinched shut and you were so into what you were feeling that you hadn't heard the door open. 

Bucky watched as you pleasured yourself. He was turned on by the sight, but pissed, because he told you not to. He walked over and snatched the toy from you. Covering your mouth, so you couldn't scream. 

"Now, I remember telling you not to do this, doll." He moved his hand and nipped at your collar bone. 

"No, you told me not to touch myself. I used the toy," you said. 

"Real cute," he growled. 

He put the toy on the counter and walked you into the shower. He got down on his knees and started eating your pussy again. 

He should've been punishing you, but instead he was treating himself. Bucky knew in that moment that you were now his addiction. 

You gripped his hair while he held on to the leg that was thrown over his shoulder. 

"I want to feel you. Please," you begged. 

He wanted to deny you, but he simply couldn't. Your wish was his command. 

He stood and lifted you up, slowly sliding you down on his hard dick. He was sure to keep you against the wall, so your hair wouldn't get wet. 

Bucky fucked into you slowly. Enjoying the feeling of your slick walls. He wanted to stay inside of you forever. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby!" You mewled. 

You heard him grunt in response. He was close himself and when you tighten your grip around him he exploded inside of you. 

You bit his neck as your own orgasm washed over you. He finally let you down and the two of you finished the shower together.

Bucky had no clue how he'd break this news to Sam, but he knew he had to, because there was no way he wanted to ever go without your touch again. 

********

[needleanddead]

remember when i was like ‘i will probably use this blog to write some horrible reader-insert fanfiction too’? yeah. 

knife-edge, strade x reader, 3.2k

trigger warnings: not sfw, non-con, blood, violence, gore, references to torture/snuff films, honestly i figure you probably know what you’re getting into if you’re seeing this. reader uses no pronouns/neutral pronouns but is vaguely implied to be afab. 

cross-posted to ao3

You do not know how you still have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg.

Well.

That’s a lie, really; you have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg, because you know that the moment you stop – the moment you let yourself truly succumb to that pit of nothingness that lies heavy and waiting in your chest – he will lose interest in you completely, and you will meet the same fate as all of the rest of them do.

Despite the shock collar that lies heavy around your throat; the proof that he had seen some value in you beyond what you might feel like if he tore you into pieces and let you rot, you know that any peace you have here is temporary. He’ll get bored. He’ll lose control. He’ll--

Sometimes you wonder if those things might be better. The idea of death hovers at the edges of your vision like a spectre, waiting for you – and you are a coward and you run from it, whimpering and sensitive with tears rolling down your cheeks whenever he takes you back down the creaking basement stairs and wraps rope around already rubbed-raw wrists.

You don’t think you’d recognise the sight of your own wrists without the rope burn any more. It seems so long since you’ve been anything other than captive. You’re not sure you even know who you are unless you have a blade half-buried in your thigh or thick fingers digging and reopening wounds or pliers too close to vulnerable flesh.

You think he likes that, too – that you don’t seem to exist unless you’re hurting. Delights that he’s broken you without breaking the part of you that he really likes; the one with the trembling lip and the gasping and the tears beading in your eyes. You beg less now; you have learnt that he’s always able to turn a ‘please, please don’t, not that--’ into something that’s somehow worse. But when you’d first woken up all rope-burnt and disoriented with your arms wrapped around a pole in a basement that smelt like copper and oil, you had begged until your throat was sore.

What you had gotten for your troubles was your own hand wrapped around the knife handle as you sliced into too soft, too giving flesh and stared in horror at bubbling rivulets of blood with the dim thought in the back of your mind; I did this to myself.

It’s a dangerous knife-edge that you’re walking; don’t fight too much, but don’t give in too much. Don’t break, but don’t entirely yield. If he gets bored of you, or if you push him too far – then the collar around your neck will be carefully unlocked and you’ll regret everything. You’ll meet the fate that you so narrowly avoided, bleeding and broken and disoriented as your life slips away to the tune of Strade’s fingers wrapped too hard about your throat.

Or worse, you’ll meet the fate you’ve seen some of the ones who have broken too early become acquainted with; bandana wrapped around his mouth and camera painstakingly readjusted to perfectly centre a sobbing, terrified face. You have been far too close to the ones who end up that way; brought down to the basement and given a nail gun as you’re shoved onto your knees in front of a girl who might once have been pretty but is a little too matted with blood and bruises to be called the same any more.

“I thought they might like to see someone else hurt her this time, schatzi,” his smile had not dimmed a watt. When you had first met him, that smile had put you at ease; his eyes had reminded you of honey, and you’d been so flattered, so warmed, to have the attention of someone who oozed easy charm--

You know now his eyes are not the soft amber of honey but the sharp yellow-orange of a hawk; a predator. When he had smiled at you, he had not been thinking of the kindness of making someone feel comfortable – he had merely been imagining how prettily you would break. Which, as he had not failed to tell you after you’d sobbed out every plea you could and had jagged stitches and broken bones and blood crusted on your face to prove it, had been even more lovely than he had imagined.

The nail gun had been too heavy in your hand; the trigger sweaty, because Strade himself was over-excited and flushed dark pink under tanned skin and excitement beading at his brow. Your fingers had slipped all over it as he’d murmured;

“They want you to put a pretty pattern in her up her shins to her knees. Start at the . . . haa, start at the ankle--”

You’d felt something inside of you snap as if it was very far away as you stared at her legs; already cut up a little and stitched messily, as Strade is so wont to do to make sure his captives last longer. You hesitate too long, because suddenly thick, strong fingers are gripping your jaw and squeezing too hard as they turn your face towards the camera like a rabbit caught in headlights.

His fingers will bruise your face, you know – and he will see it tomorrow, and dig them harder, make the bruises deeper until you can barely open your jaw--

“Ah, they think you’re cute, mäuschen,” Strade says, an uncomfortable lilt in his voice that sets your teeth on edge. “They’d be happy to see you as the star instead – and I’m sure our other guest would much prefer it too.”

(The girl in the chair leans forward, babbling words that don’t make sense; bubbling drool slips from her lips, tinged pink, and you think that this one must have talked too much and Strade has done something to her tongue).

“Now,” his tone is endlessly patient. “You know I want to keep you, ja? You’re very sweet. I like you a lot - so be good and do what the audience want, and I won’t have to do something I don’t want to, will I?”

He is hard to read. Cheerful to angry in moments; snapping and bouncing from side to side with a laugh and a wild light in his eyes that you don’t understand. He does like you – insofar as you think Strade is capable of really feeling for other people – but you can’t wager your life on him bluffing. The girl looks at you with agonised eyes and you pull the trigger, the nose of the gun pressed against her ankle.

You hear her scream – wet, through a throat clogged with blood, the sound mixing with the disgusting crunch-squelch of the nail being driven into her skin too close to the bone – and it echoes far longer in your head than it actually lasts. You feel far away as you trail the gun further up her leg, pulling the trigger, your marks on her surprisingly straight considering how much the both of you are trembling – but you know you’re crying because you can hear Strade breathing a little heavy, see the bulge in his pants (level with your face) from the corner of your eye as you finish the first leg and move to the second.

It’s not the last time he makes you hurt someone on stream. Sometimes, he checks the stream whilst you’re there and whichever poor soul he’s got taped to a chair whimpers and squirms, whistling cheerily through his teeth as if the situation is perfectly normal. You see the comments as they scroll by; asking you to do horrible things, the ping of donations, the occasional plea to dig a screwdriver into your eye socket and make you scream or pull out your teeth with pliers or slash a heavy knife through your ribcage and fuck the wound he leaves there--

You think he lets you see them on purpose, as a reminder of what he could do to you. He always makes sure the stream sees your face perfectly clearly, too – and you never fail to think; ‘he is making me an accessory to his murders’.

(It is not just you; you find out that Ren is subjected to this same treatment, this same reminder that Strade’s moods are volatile and he loses self-control too quickly and there’s every chance that one day, he will go too far. You do not share your thoughts with Ren that even if, by some miracle, the two of you found yourself outside of Strade’s control, your face is probably plastered all over the darkest shadows of the deep web. You never talk about what might happen. You do not quite trust each other beyond sharing in patching up each other’s wounds, occasionally seeking one another out for company, trembling in the night. There is a kind of tension between you; fear that the other is the favourite. That Strade perhaps isn’t capable of keeping both of you long-term.

It makes Strade himself laugh when he sees that you’re on edge around each other and he leans forward to rest elbows on knees and tells you with a wicked glint in his eye that he just wants the both of you to get along. Perhaps you two need to share something very special, like what he shares with the both of you.

When he tells you to hurt one another, Ren has the advantage of animal nature. It’s clear to you where you stand in the pecking order of predators. You think, too, that Strade prefers you there. Master, fox, mouse.)

You never hear anything from the room designated as yours; it doesn’t escape notice that there is no other bedroom, aside from Ren’s domain and the one that Strade himself barely uses. Nowhere for someone else, if Strade were to take it into his head that another captive would be an interesting pet to keep--

It has been long enough that there are some things you have asked for, tremulous and whimpering, decorating surfaces and scattered about the room. There are also reminders of Strade, too; a hammer and nails on a chest of drawers, a knife in the bedside cabinet, too many things that could be used as weapons at the same time as being summarily excused as simply the detritus of a man doing home improvements.

You’d woken up that morning (you know it is morning because early fingers of dawn have penetrated even through the curtains you keep closed) to see Strade silhouetted in the doorway, smile on his face, shirt spattered with dark red and brown. You know that expression. You sit up, letting the covers fall, and he keeps smiling as he closes the door behind him and approaches you like a wolf approaches a frightened rabbit.

“Last night was disappointing,” he says, his tone light. You’d heard a thump in the middle of the night; assumed it to be Strade dragging a body down to the basement, and had resolutely buried your face into your pillow and pretended you heard nothing.

It’s easier to think of Strade’s other victims – the ones not so lucky as you or Ren – as faceless, foolish creatures. Food. Sustenance. Not people.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice quiet, cracking. Strade reaches across and chucks your chin, too fondly, bright smile and bright eyes.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. He’s pleased with the apology. He likes it when you’re polite. “It just means that I’m feeling a little . . . ahh. Restless. You’ll help me with that, won’t you?”

“Of c-course I will.” The stutter; he likes that, you know. He shifts as he sits on the bed.

A chuckle.

“You’re always so well-behaved,” he tells you. “sehr süß.”

The knife-edge you walk; the tight-rope. Well-behaved, but not broken. Responsive, but not troublesome. You’ve gotten it down to a fine art.

He’s on top of you before you can respond, knees shoved between your legs, your hand shoved hard against the bedside table so it knocks uncomfortably against hard wood and you flinch at the shock of pain.

The brief pain, though, is nothing to the anxiety that crawls up your throat as you realise he grabbed the hammer and nails as he walked in.

He chuckles as he sees your eyes widen in fear, cooing softly to you;

“That expression. So hübsch. Stay still for me.”

Your wrist is shaking as Strade carefully places a nail right in the centre of your hand; testing the angle, the positioning. His breath is uneven and panting in excitement at what he’s going to do – and excitement, too, that he knows you won’t pull away. Because you know if you do, it will not merely be a nail through one hand, but perhaps through your other and your knees and your feet, perhaps a knife slicing through you like butter, perhaps the feel of chisels and needles and sharper and more painful objects (knife, pliers, screwdriver, chisel, bradawl, drill--).

He lifts the hammer. He watches intently. His eyes are lit with bright excitement, chest heaving, sweat-soaked and greasy. You taste copper and realise you’ve bitten through your lip.

You’ve grown used to the smell of copper and motor oil and meat. If it weren’t for the flood of blood across your tongue you doubt you’d have noticed.

Crack. The first blow. The pain is blinding.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every single hit of the hammer sends a new shock of pain through you that echoes through the inside of your arm through to the bone marrow, shaking you. It’s not the most painful thing you’ve felt at Strade’s hands; but you are still partly asleep, still not quite aware, and you are simply looking at your hand with the crunch of fractured bones (twenty seven bones in the human hand; is that your capitate, that’s been splintered through?) and the sick wet noise of blood and muscle and you can’t think.

You stare, unblinking, at where your hand is nailed to the bedside table - the gore and blood that oozes from the wound as he uses the clawed end of the hammer to drag it out again. Strade’s smile is beatific, eyes wide and bright, sweat dampening his collar and his cheeks flushed and ruddy.

You’re unable to process anything for another long, agonising second; relief flooding you when finally, you respond. The whimper a delayed reaction, the tears that roll fat and hot down your own face taking a beat longer than usual.

You fear that you’ve broken for the moment you’re staring in horror; that he has finally, well and truly snapped you in half. Because if you’re broken, that means he’ll lose interest, and that means the basement and the fear of death finally catching up with you.

Occasionally the thought flits across your mind that death perhaps would be preferable; but you are a coward, and you have hurt people (even if it was on Strade’s command), and you do not want to know what awaits you on the other side of a non-beating heart and the light in a tunnel.

Strade chuckles, affectionately rubbing his nose against the line of your jaw, teeth digging just a little too hard into the flesh of your neck.

“You had me worried for a second, mäuschen,” he practically purrs. “I thought I’d heard the last of your squeaking.” Big fingers, tugging at your thighs, guiding you to wrap them around his hips. Despite the softness of his body, the proof that he enjoys lazing around and cheap beer and meat a little too much, there’s raw muscle beneath the chub. Even his hands on you are a reminder of how strong he is.

(Strong enough to drag dead bodies across floors, to lift them into kilns, to hold down unwilling, screaming captives and make them regret they ever laid eyes on him.)

“Unzip,” he tells you. One of your hands is free; unpierced, though scarred from being pressed against stove burned and soldering irons and heat guns, from grabbing the blade of a knife when he’s told you to fuck yourself with the handle, from sanders applied to formerly soft skin. You do not use that hand.

You force yourself to move the one dripping in your own blood, the ruined hand pierced straight through. The movement of your fingers burns, sending shock waves of pain all through you; but you tug at the zip of his pants nonetheless. You get blood all over his clothes but he just chuckles low and dangerous, as you reach into his underwear too and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel how hot and hard and heavy his cock is in your grip.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you, soft, and you force yourself to open them. He drinks in the expression on your face like he’s a starved man and it’s his first meal.

There’s a bloody handprint on his shaft when your fingers and wrist finally give out and your hand falls onto the sheets and pillows beneath you, staining them too, and you think that Strade is going to drive more nails through your hand just to prove a point about not doing as he says.

But his cock presses hot and needy against your inner thigh, smearing blood and pre-come on your scarred skin, and he’s panting and practically drooling as he murmurs;

“You know you’re not going to break, schatz. You want to live too much.” He leans his face further down. He does not kiss you so much as take control of you; worry teeth into your bottom lip, transfer his own saliva into your mouth, conquer the cavern behind your lips and teeth (one of them is loose; from being hit and squeezed. He pushes his tongue just a little too hard against that one and your body contracts, a whimper transferred from your throat to his mouth, and he swallows it up like your protests are a fine steak). “Ah. That’s what I like about you.”

Are you going to break? The push of him pressing inside of you makes your toes curl, a soft noise that might be a moan escape; Strade laughs, again, the sound too hearty and friendly to come out of the monster that you know he is.

“You like it,” he presses, as his thumbs come to your hips and dig into wounds that have been stitched together; you hear the stitches pop, feel him re-open barely healed gashes. “You like being special to me. You like this.”

You don’t think you do.

You don’t think you like any of this; his body on top of yours, the pain, the mistrust, the fear that prickles hot and sharp and sour in your throat whenever you hear the door (the one you can’t go near) open. But you also know that saying that is the wrong answer. Hitting and screaming like a wildcat is the wrong answer. Saying nothing at all is the wrong answer.

So instead, you open your mouth, you shiver and shudder as his thumb presses deeper into the re-opened wound, and you manage to choke out a mouse-squeak of;

“Pl-please—”

It’s the right answer. His face does not soften; but his smile widens, his hips tilting until you’re so full you can barely move and you ache everywhere, and Strade simply smiles down at you as whatever passes for affection for him leaks into his tone and he coos;

“Don’t worry, mäuschen. I’ll give you exactly what you want. For as long as you need.”

[german translation dictionary;  schatzi - sweetheart/dear/darling/treasure mäuschen - little mouse sehr süß - very sweet/very cute so hübsch - so pretty idk how accurate these are i am just using google translate always]

[odelschwanky]

Don’t Leave (Coyote Starrk x Female Reader)

Word Count: 4055

**SMUT**

You sat there looking out at the desolate black of Hueco Mundo. The sand was so pretty, how it danced like gray glitter on the whispering wind.  The sky was deep, the clouds moved ever so slowly, and the horizon was just a thin line that you couldn't even decipher. Your hair stirred in the wind, only slightly, as you sulked and stared out at the only place you've ever known.

"Why are you out?"

You turned slowly to see him, and your heart jumped. You smiled softly as you admired the way his chestnut tinted hair swayed, grazing his shoulders. His silver eyes narrowed at you, and he appeared slightly concerned. It wasn't like him to show much emotion. You could see the slight furrow in his brow and the softening of his frown. He was worried about you, even though he wouldn't admit it. You could just tell.

"I wanted to look," you say quietly, turning back to the empty world that matched your heart. You didn't get to see the outside very often, for you were always deep inside the fortress of Las Noches. You were always inside that room. How were you an Espada, one of the most powerful beings in Hueco Mundo, yet so tamed and broken? You never understood it, but that's all you ever knew.

"It never changes, (y/n)."

He comes to your side, not quite standing shoulder to shoulder. You could still feel his pressure next to you. It was... overwhelming. He was always so intense. That intensity made you feel safe.

"I know," you reply because there wasn't any purpose in arguing. It did change. The wind was blowing Northeast today. Well, this time. You couldn't keep track of the days here. All you ever saw was the perpetual night. The only indication to the time was the slow and lonely cycle through full and empty that the moon traversed between. This time it was almost full.

He waited outside with you generously, allowing you to drink in the gloom for a while longer. You grabbed his hand when you were finished, and he took it firmly in his. He was wearing gloves, like usual. You liked the way the leather purchased in your hand, but you liked the way his skin felt much better. You haven't touched his hand in a long while. You thought about the last time, months ago perhaps. You sighed with the longing for it as he walked you back inside.

Your footsteps brilliantly resonated throughout the long empty halls of marble, almost as loud as the silence. You decided to ask him since you didn't ask for permission today. He never liked it when you disobeyed him, but he never seemed to punish you for it.

"Can I look outside again tomorrow?" You turn to glance at him. You didn't know what he would say. You hoped he would let you.

He grunted, running his hand over his neck. You were approaching the room. You didn't want to go back in there. You desperately wanted to stay, at least in the hallway, holding his gloved hand.

"Aizen won't like that," he sighed lazily.

Aizen never liked anything you did or didn't do. Anything that had anything to do with you, Aizen was already disapproving. You didn't understand why he hated you so.

"Then again, he never likes anything." He seemed to say exactly what you were thinking. Starrk looked at the ground and takes a deep breath again. He seemed to be trying to find either an excuse to keep you in or an excuse to let you out. You couldn't tell which. You patiently looked at him in eager anticipation. You loved the passive pout he always wore on his face.

"Maybe. Be good and I'll decide later."

"Okay," you say without protest.

You arrived at the place where you've spent years, maybe more, (you didn't know). You couldn't keep track of time because your monotonous life only had a few irregularities.

He pushed open the stone door you left unbarred when you escaped. Starrk looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and reprimand. You know better than to leave, he seemed to say with his gaze. And you didn't even try to be subtle about it either.

You both enter the dark, cold room. Starrk glances at the back wall with his eyes opened only a little larger than the restricted expression he kept them in. You hoped this meant he was pleased.

"What's this?"

You had done some painting while he was away. You hadn't seen him for a few days maybe. The black ink was now dry on the canvas you had propped up. The work was taller than both of you put together and wider than that. You had finished it before you had gone outside.

"It's something I did while you were gone," you tell him. He hadn't let go of your hand yet. You didn't want him to let it go. You wish he wouldn't leave so much.

"It's a beautiful painting." He said, assessing it. He seemed unimpressed. You sank, despite his compliment.

"Do you mean that?" You inquired this, not taking your eyes off of him.

He nods.

"I painted it for you." You squeeze his hand.

Starrk smiles for the first time in a long while. Seeing it made you happy.

It was strange, what you felt for him. He kept you locked up in a prison, not allowed to see or be seen by others, but you didn't hold any contempt for him. He likened you to some kind of pet, keeping you in a kennel all day, but you knew that he was keeping you safe. He was the only person you were allowed to see. When you think of human interaction, you think of him. All of your memories are made with him. Your life revolves around him. You were okay with that.

"Why?"

You look at him, confused. "What, you don't like it?

"It's not that. I'm grateful." He turned to you, face stone, void of emotion. "Why do you do these things for me?"

It wasn't the first time you had done a generous act for him. Many times you've made art for him. You've brought him things you find in the sand of Hueco Mundo, little trinkets you'd like him to have. You've made food for him on many occasions. You gave him gifts.

"I know you have the capacity to think. Why don't you want more for yourself?"

You did want more. You wanted freedom, autonomy, liberation from this place. You wanted to see a more beautiful world, like the one Starrk told you about when he went away to fight the Soul Reapers. You wanted to be free of this horrid, horrid place but the desire was never enough to light a fire under you and cause you to pursue it. The desire to be at Starrk's side was stronger.

"I... do." You say quietly. You wanted to be more. To him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he feel guilty? Sad? Confused? Angry? You didn't want him to feel like this.

"You never wonder why, or who caused you to be this way? Or are you content with living like this?" He walked away from you, pacing about the room slowly, and deliberately.

You did wonder. You wondered about it all the time. Why you kept like bird when you had the tattoo on your front saying you were an Espada? Why didn't you have any knowledge of what you used to be? You didn't know anything except for him.

"Of course I wonder," you reply. You never raised your voice. You didn't have it in you to do it. You were making him upset, but he was breaking your heart.

"Then why don't you ever ask me what happened? Doesn't that matter to you?"

"I would like it to matter...  but it doesn't," you say.

It didn't.

Whether you knew about your past or not, nothing was going to change, was it? That's the only thing that you had faith in, was that things would be the same. "You know that, Starrk."

Starrk sighed again, shaking his head. He looked at you tentatively. He wanted to say something, but he decided against it. You could see it on his face. The single stream of light from the tall window high in the room crossed his face with an intense white glint. You could see every strand of hair glimmer, every strand of his stubbled goatee and thick brows.

"You make everything so hard."

"St- Starrk?" The tears pricked and began rolling down your face in one swift motion. He looked displeased with you. What did you do wrong?

The fury in his face wavered for only a moment when he saw you start to cry. As quickly as he faltered, he bulwarked his expression with deep-set brows, forming in a tight disapproving line.

"Don't leave again." He commanded.

Your stomach dropped as he turned to go. You reached out your hand to grab him, but you barely missed him. "What're you talking about?" You called, a lump in your throat.

"You're content with living like a helot. I can't accept that."

This comment shattered you like glass. His tone was full of disdain. He sounded like he hated you. His voice hurt you more than his words. You'd never heard him sound so angry before. Hopelessness filled you like a bubbling pit of tar, causing you to choke up on the hot, black tears.

How dare he be mad at you for that? He was the one keeping you hostage. He locked you away and treated you like a prisoner. How could he be mad at you for not doing anything about it when this was all you knew?

He walked so swiftly away from you, you couldn't bear to see him go. Who knew when he'd be back? He barred the door and was gone. "Don't leave again," you wanted to say to him. Why did he leave you? You were bound to this room with nothing in it, but you were also bound to him. Why didn't he know that?

Defeated, you drug the painting to the corner of the large, empty marble room. You wanted to burn it, but you didn't. It was for him. You still wanted him to have it.

Your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets tucked neatly between two pillars in the center of the floor, looked so inviting. You were destroyed. You just wanted to sob until he came back.

Time passed so slowly. Still, the days had passed. Over and over, the moon fell out of the line of the window, and you were left in total darkness, only for it to come back again. When the moon passed out of view for the tenth or eleventh time, you lit a few candles and placed them near your bed. You lie there, carved out and left empty. You wished another Espada would come to find you, and kill you. That would be the nicest thing they could do. You would ever be so lucky.

The door locked from the inside. You could leave. You could go look outside. You didn't. No desire came to you to disobey him. You couldn't stand yourself. Why don't you care? Why don't you have this desperate need to know your past? Why couldn't you act how he wanted you to? Independent, free-thinking, with a mind of your own.

You didn't know the answer.

You got up and went to the corner of the room, where the silent wall of water for your bathing was. It dripped down into a pool, big enough for you lie down three times over. You shed your clothes and stared at yourself in the solid, unwavering reflection. The number was branded across your chest, down your stomach extending to your hips. What did had it meant before? Why didn't you care? You didn't want to live like this anymore.

Crawling into the water, you lie down in it. Underneath the water, there was more sound than above. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could hear your heartbeat. That was the only way you could even tell you were alive.

You were tempted to breathe in the water. Just to see what would happen.

Could you even drown?

It's been an unbearable time since you'd last seen Starrk. All those horrible things he said to you kept replaying in your mind. He was the only thing you had, the only one you loved. Could you even call it love?

How could you love a man who kept you in a cage?

You opened your mouth and let the water rush in. Your deep breath was a terrible one. Instant regret-filled your lungs, making them burn. Still you took another... but it was too much. Natural instict kicked in and you shot upright through the surface, coughing and sputtering. You threw up the water back in the pool. The retching combined with nausea building up in your gut was too much to take and you began to cry. The silence was broken with your childish bawling. You just wanted something, someone to stop your pain and loneliness.

You wanted Starrk to come back.

After you washed, you fumbled around in the trunk full of the clothes you owned. Most of them were elaborate, white robes with black trim that looked a little like Starrk's. You wore these as an Espada no doubt, but now you just wear them because it's all you have. You managed to find one of the less flashy items, a white shift gown made of satin. You liked to wear it when you slept.

With tears still in your eyes, you crawled into bed and let the feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and dread consume you. Within a few hours, you had finally wept yourself to sleep.

***

"Open the door."

You heard a firm order come from he another side. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in a hurry. The blankets you buried yourself under had been strewn and draped all over your body. You heard the pounding again, more clearly now that you were awake.

"(y/n), open this damn door."

You throw off your cover and walk to the door, trying to wake up. Your bare feet pattering on the floor was the only noise that echoed in your hollow room.

"Did you hear me?" Starrk sounded urgent. You obeyed. It took all your strength to lift the bar on the door. You were weak, tired, sad. But you obeyed.

"(Y/n)!"

"I'm here."

The heavy stone door inched open and there you stood. Your long hair was still wet, your eyes were sunken and dark circles plagued them. You didn't look well at all. Your grief had gotten the best of you. You missed him.  You didn't smile when you saw him though. You couldn't smile. He had made you think about all of the things you hated about your life and made you realize how miserable you were. You were hurting. The look on his face let you know he could see that.

"What is it?" You ask slowly. You wanted to leap into his arms and tell him how you felt about him. You were so happy to see him, but you were so angry with yourself for feeling that way.

"Why don't you hate me?"

There was no feeling in his face. His indifferent eyes bore into you and it intimidated you. Your tears showed themselves to him and your lips parted to speak. You wanted to explain yourself but there were no words to explain how you felt.

"Because I can't."

Starrk's lips were on your in a second, and he had gathered you up in his arms. A sniffle escaped from you as you let him have your body. Starrk strode in, flawlessly multitasking between holding you in one arm and closing the door with the other, shoving the bar down with no effort at all, locking the both of you in your private world.

The only assertion you showed was the way you shoved off his clothes. Off came his jacket, then his shirt. They fell to the floor in a trail as he marched you to your bed. He laid you down, cupping your neck gently, but kissing you forcefully. The motivation in his motions was ravenous, as he tore your lips apart with his own. You had trouble keeping up. You tried to get some purchase on his back, but you couldn't find the strength to dig your nails in. Instead, you rubbed sensually on his bare skin. His bare skin...

He worked your gown off in no time at all. You couldn't feel the warmth of his touch. All you felt was leather. You seized his hands firmly and aggressively tugged both of the gloves off and forced his hands to your chest for him to grab. He eagerly obliged with a deep grunt and groped your body all over. Your heat was rising, ascending to something otherworldly. You needed him, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He ground against your hips and you could feel him, gasping through the endless, messy kiss. His pants were hard to move, so you fumbled with them until he barked at you, removing them himself.

You said his name, softly yet desperately as he tried to enter you. It hurt, and you only clutched him tighter.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

He parted from your lips to ask this important question. You couldn't see his face much in the utter darkness of the room, but you could see his pale blue eyes. The met yours with sincerity and intensity. You nod.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Starrk reassures you. He sounded soothing, exact, intentional. He wanted you to know it was okay. You felt like it was. You weren't worried.

You heard a slight slurp as Starrk licked his finger. It slid down your front, tracing the line of your tattoo and arrived at your sex, which wasn't quite as wet as it needed to be. He gently worked its way in, moving in gentle, circular movements that caused your core to tighten. "Talk to me," he commanded. "How does it feel?"

You nodded slowly and murmured your response. "It.. feels. good," you finished with a moan as he slowly, calmly entered another finger. You reached down to feel him. The length and girth of him was much more than his fingers could imitate. You rubbed your thumb across his opening, causing him to curse. Your thumb became a little slick. You continued to handle him, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He bucked into your hand, letting you know he liked it.

"Starrk..." you began. You wanted to tell him you loved him. It wasn't the right time, but you wanted to tell him anyway.

"Yes?"

Your the rustling of the blankets was all that you could hear beyond your voices. He positioned himself at your opening again, not giving your body any time to readjust back to the tightness it was before. He replaced his fingers with himself smoothly, it was like magic. It was easier this time when he pushed his way inside you. You moaned softly as your body gave way. You couldn't formulate the words.

"That's beautiful," he said, pinching your face in his hand. "You sound... Beautiful."

The way he rocked into your body sent chills through you. He filled you up with every stroke and you tightened around him every time. He went deeper and deeper into you until you could feel his hips press into yours. You were stuffed with him, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

He knelt now, back straight up and grabbed your hips. The inside of your thighs gave in to the pressure from his thumbs and you could feel the bruises already starting to form. In and out he went, growing faster and faster. His strokes were still light, like gentle swift kisses that barely swept the surface of the skin. By now you were a mess of whines and cries, but these were not of pain. You wanted so desperately to climax. The building pressure was aching inside you and all you wanted was release. You grabbed his wrists and squeezed them, saying his name over ad over.

"Starrk...please." You begged him.

"Not yet," he huffs.

He turned you over on to your stomach, and your breath caught. A firm hand came down on your shoulder blade, pressing you down into the cushions. You grabbed onto a blanket for some kind of outlet. Your hands clutched and Starrk lay down on top of you, his heavy weight feeling like a mass of stone. His face came close to your ear, and he spoke to you quietly, deeply, as he continued to drive you.

"Just relax," he groaned, making you feel all of him. His front was hot against your back and your sweat had started to mingle, making all his movements slick. You did as you were told, not knowing how much tension you'd been putting onto yourself. You were tightened on your own volition, and when you relaxed slowly, the sex felt better than you could've imagined.

He turned your head to kiss you, deeply, passionately. It was as if your tongues knew each other already, how familiarly they intertwined. It got messy, and soon his spit was dripping down your chin and your hair stuck to your sweaty cheeks and forehead. Your voice was fading with the strain. He had you in a hold and the only way out was to come.

You finished violently, tensing and clenching and crying loudly. Starrk gritted his teeth, the way you felt was too much for him. He came inside you while the two of you kissed, and he rolled over on his side with you still in his arms. He encased you in his grip, refusing to stop kissing you.

"I... don't want you to hurt anymore."

He said this between kisses, and you could feel the genuineness of the statement. It warmed your heart. All you wanted was him. Now that you had him... you were spent.

You fell asleep kissing him. There wasn't much energy left inside you. You had been hurt and healed by the same person. It exhausted you to the point of fainting and soon you were in a dreamless sleep.

***

The guise of the morning came by soft grey light, leaking in through the single window. You blinked open your eyes to see and feel Starrk still around you. His fingers lazily played in your hair and his legs draped over you, keeping you sheltered and safe. You looked up at him, the exhaustion hitting you.

"You're still here?" You sleepily mumble in surprise.

He plants a kiss on your lips and stirs, letting out a raspy groan.

"You're a wreck when I'm not around."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right.

"Thank you for noticing," you pout, closing your eyes again.

"I didn't know it, but I need you too, (y/n)."

You felt around for his hand, which you found encircling your neck. You wriggled your fingers inside his hold and grasped it softly. "You... need me?"

You were dumbfounded. Starrk wasn't the type to need anyone. He was a lone wolf that didn't talk much to anyone, an apathetic, heartless man. The way he left and went days without coming to see you told you everything you needed to know about that. He couldn't be telling the truth.

"I'm telling the truth. When we're apart, something isn't quite right. I feel... incomplete. I don't like feeling like that."

So he only needed you to clear his conscience?

"But. That hurt on your face, when I came to you last night..." He squeezed your hand. "It looked like you were dying."

You were. You were dying without him. Now that he was here though, you felt better than you ever remember feeling.

"I'm not leaving you anymore."

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

I’ll Never Be The Moon

Pairings: Sokka x Reader

Summary: It’s hard to get someone to notice you when you’re competition is the moon but Aang’s always there to make you feel better.

Warnings: Talk of death, Aang says ass

Word Count: 2000

_________________________________________

Every night, there was always a little pocket of time when the camp was uncharacteristically silent and Sokka was sitting to the side, staring up at the night sky instead of cracking jokes and telling stories. It was your least favorite time of night because it was a constant reminder of what you’d never be. Katara, Aang, Toph, and you all usually talked amongst yourselves, used to this routine. Everyone knew why Sokka got like this, though, so nobody bothered him about it. Not even Toph. There were just some things that you didn't joke about and Yue’s death was one of them. 

But on some nights, like tonight, it got to you. Every single night, you watched the man you’d been crazy about for so long stare up at the moon, yearning for a lost love. He looked up at the moon like it held all the love and beauty in the world. He looked at you like you had mud on your face. 

You sighed and pushed yourself up from your seat by the fire amidst a story Toph was telling, “I’m getting warm. I’m gonna go get some air.” You excused yourself, ignoring the little comments of acknowledgement from the group. 

The view was beautiful here in this little piece of the Earth Kingdom. Camp was set up on the edge of a large pristine lake that was surrounded by a thick luscious forest. The mountains on the opposite side of the lake were reflected perfectly on the still surface of the water through the moonlight. 

Beauty always came back to the moon. 

You spotted a fallen log on the edge of the shore and found a home on it, just far enough away from the group to be allowed to have your own thoughts. But from here, you could see Sokka sitting there on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees as he gazed up at the celestial being, mesmerized by her beauty.

“I’ll never be the moon…” You mumbled to yourself sadly. 

“Everything okay?” Aang’s voice asked from behind you. You spun around to see the boy walking up the path you took. 

“Hm? Yeah, I’m alright.” You lied, tucking your knees in and resting your chin on it. 

Aang walked around and moved to sit on the log beside you, “Are you sure? You said something about not being the moon?” 

You chuckled sadly. That must have sounded either psychotic or pathetic to him. “It’s nothing. Just talking to myself.” Were you even trying to not sound crazy? 

“About being the moon?” He questioned with a hint of humor in his tone. You didn’t know how to respond. All you’d done was make yourself sound dumb and you already felt inadequate tonight as it was. You weren’t exactly eager to continue that so you only responded with a shrug. “This is about Sokka, isn’t it?” Aang put the pieces together. But honestly, it wasn’t that hard to tell. Your crush wasn’t blatantly obvious or anything but if you paid attention, like Aang had found himself doing for the past few weeks, the signs weren’t difficult to see. 

You looked over at Aang with pleading eyes, “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” He crossed his fist over his heart with a confident smile. But when he saw that you were still down, he shrunk down to match your demeanor, “So I’m guessing it’s Yue, since you’re talking about the moon, right?” 

You nodded, cheeks squished up against the palms of your hands as you leaned over onto them, “I never had a chance compared to her. She was a princess! And she was absolutely beautiful and kind and selfless. I’d never seen Sokka so entranced by someone. I'm just me. A girl from a poor family in a small Earth Kingdom village. Sure, I can fling rocks but it’s nothing compared to being a beautiful princess. And who would want the Earth when you could have the moon?” 

“Y/N, you are beautiful, kind, selfless and more! And I really don’t think Sokka liked her because she was a princess. Yue wasn’t better than you; you two are just different people and that’s not a bad thing.” Aang comforted in his honest way. 

Crickets began to chirp around the two of you in the clearing. “I don’t know… I just… I know I’ll never be her.” 

“Why would you want to be her?” Aang asked, “I like you as you.” 

“Because she has Sokka,” You started before you chuckled and a small smile appeared on your face despite your down mood, “But thank you, Aang.”

Aang leaned back on his arms against the log, “Well, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but she doesn’t really have Sokka anymore. I mean, she’s the moon. It’s kind of hard to date the moon.” He pointed out the obvious observation. 

“That’s what I don’t understand! I know how bad that sounds. But… she’s gone.” You finally allowed yourself to say that dark little point (well, honestly, it was a pretty big point). Gosh, why did you feel like such a monster for saying that? “I know how terrible that sounds but when it comes down to it, Yue is literally the moon now. They can’t be together unless Sokka pulls some stupid hero stunt and gets himself blasted into the spirit world too but that seems pretty unlikely. I completely understand that her dying doesn’t take away his feelings for her or the hurt that came with losing her but it just hurts. It hurts me to see him hurting but it also hurts me to see him pining for a girl he fell in love with after three days when I can’t get him to give me a second glance.”

Your gaze fell on where the moon was reflecting in ripples on the water and followed its light back up to its large celestial source with a small sigh, “Even in death she’s beautiful. No wonder he’ll always love her.” 

Aang stood up with a sense of finality, “No,” He crossed his arms before grabbing your hand and forcing you to stand up, “I won’t allow this. You don’t get to think you’re worth less than someone else just because she was a princess or part moon spirit. Come here and look in the water.” He led you to the shore and leaned over the water with you until you saw both of your reflections. “Now what do you see?” 

Your face twisted as you made eye contact with your reflection, “Me? You? Us?” You guessed, not sure what he was getting at. 

“No, I want you to look at you and tell me what you see.” Aang insisted, pointing at your reflection. 

This time, you really tried to see what Aang wanted you to see. Though the reflection was dark from the limited light, you could still make out enough of your image. You just looked like you. Your hair was actually in place for once, which you attributed to not flying on Appa for the last few hours. You did have a smudge of ash on your cheek that you must have accidentally swiped across your face after moving a burning piece of wood back into the fire pit earlier. A small splice at the tail of your eyebrow was healing up but still visible, a "trophy", as Toph called it, after a run in with some Fire Nation soldiers the other day. You wore a green top that covered your shoulders and crossed around the front, held together with a tan tie. The top of your dark brown pants were visible but those looked a little ragged too. The wrappings that started around your thumb and went around your forearms, up to your elbows were getting dirty as well, more tan than off white now. Coming from the outer villages that were run by Earth Kingdom "soldiers", if you could even call them that after all the extortion, it wasn't exactly like you joined the group with super nice clothing to begin with. 

"I see a girl with a busted eyebrow, a dirty face, and clothes that she needs to wash tomorrow." You huffed a little, beginning to pull away before Aang pushed you back to stay where you were. 

You rolled your eyes before he started talking, "I see someone who fights for what she believes in, someone who didn't come from much but is going to help change the world. Someone that doesn't need to be a princess to be awesome or beautiful. Sure, you got a little scuffed up and you got ash on your face but who cares? I know Sokka sure doesn't. Besides, Sokka needs to do his laundry tomorrow too… he’s starting to smell kind of bad." You snorted as you stifled a laugh. Aang wasn’t necessarily wrong though. 

Before he continued, he looked over your shoulder to make sure you two were still alone. When he ensured it was still just the two of you in ear shot, he leaned in close, putting his arm around your shoulders and whispered, "And between you and me, Sokka was practically drooling over you when you took out those Fire Nation soldiers the other day. He thinks the badass thing you've got going on is super attractive." 

You turned your head to him with a skeptical look on your face, unsure if he was just saying that to make you feel better but when you thought about it, you didn't think you'd ever actually heard Aang lie before. That probably meant he wasn't lying now, though. "Really?" 

Aang nodded, "Yeah, but don't tell him I told you. He'll kill me." 

You couldn't help but smile at your friend. All he ever did was try and help people, even it was just dumb stuff like making a friend feel better about a boy. "Thank you." You reached over and pulled him into a side hug. 

When you pulled away, you looked back over to camp to see that Sokka had returned from his nightly mourn. He now sat on top of his sleeping bag, a stick in his hand, as if he'd been poking the fire, but instead of doing that, he was actually looking at you. It was only for a brief moment that your E/C eyes locked with his brilliant blue ones because he quickly looked down at fire, a tint of pink rising in his cheeks.

"Told you," Aang hummed, "He's been looking over at you for the last few minutes."  

A small glimmer of hope rose up in your chest but it felt tainted somehow, "Maybe he just zoned out…" Defeat already laced your voice, "I mean, if he likes me, why doesn't he say anything? He's never been exactly subtle with girls he's liked in the past." 

Aang stood up and walked around the log to the other side of you, "I think he just feels conflicted. A part of him still loves Yue even though he knows he can't have her, but he really likes you too." He put a hand on your shoulder, "I'm gonna head back to camp. But just give him a little more time, okay? I have a feeling that things are actually going to work out between you guys and my feelings are almost always right." He gave you a wink with childish confidence. 

Your gaze followed Aang as he jogged back to the camp, ready to follow suit, figuring the gang would start pestering you about being moody if you didn't return soon. Though you started watching Aang, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to flick over to Sokka again, just out of curiosity (okay, fine, maybe just because you really liked to look at him). Sokka's bright blue eyes were already trained on your firm when you glanced over but this time, instead of pretending to be burning a stick, he made a big show of reaching behind him to grab his boomerang, trying just a little too hard to look 'natural (if you could call it that). A warm smile crept up on your face and you giggled to yourself as you finally stood up from the log to make your way back to camp. Maybe Aang's feeling could be right after all. 

[i-write-about-anything]

Two Betas and the Beneficial Friendships

Prompt: The reader is in not only one screwing one beta but two. Neither of the boys know, but a recent threat exposes her, what will the boys do? (WOW)

Pairings: Theo Raeken x Reader, Isaac Lahey x Reader 

Third Person POV

(Y/N) had always been part of the pack, despite her lack in being supernatural. Scott had told her about his werewolf abilities the same day he told Stiles. Isaac had made his way into the pack only a year later after discovering Scott’s secret. She had kept the secret for six months, she hadn’t thought it was going to last long, hell she didn’t even know she was attracted to the pair. It started with Isaac; she had been on a steak out with him that lasted way too long. She found him attractive, of course she did, you’d had to be blind not to find Isaac Lahey attractive. However, she never found the appeal of dating, getting your heartbroken wasn’t something she wanted to experience. So that night, while they were arguing their lips crashed, she hadn’t thought of fucking Isaac, she hadn’t even thought of kissing him, but one thing led to another and a week later, that thing happened again, they agreed not to tell anyone. It became a weekly thing, until Theo showed up. She initiated the first kiss with Theo, and Theo being the cocky son of a Bitch he is didn’t seem surprised. She meant to stop things with Isaac, but she couldn’t phantom the thought of losing him. So, she kept Theo a secret too. Theo and Isaac hated each other, so it worked out for her, neither of them had brought up their beneficial friendship with her and she was thankful for that. It wasn’t until she saw Isaac flirting with a girl that she truly felt the jealousy. She yelled at him that night, they had agreed to meet up two days before for their weekly fuck but there was no fuck that night. Instead she threw shit at him while he stood in complete shook. They had never agreed they couldn’t be with other people, regardless, she was no one to talk, she was fucking Theo behind his back. They shook it off, agreeing not to sleep with other people and when she went to end things with Theo, well, it didn’t go as planned. So, she continued to keep Theo a secret, even though she had promised Isaac she wouldn’t sleep with anyone. Now there she is, six months into her friends with benefits with both betas, she wouldn’t admit it but she had grown feelings for the both of them. She had wanted to end things with both of them, not wanting her feelings for them to continue to grow but that was easier said than done.  

She sighed for the third time as she stared into her hands, the recent threat in beacon hills getting too exhausting for her to handle. It had been two weeks, and in the two weeks she had kept her distance from both betas, her fear of being caught increasing. She took a job at a local coffee shop, to distract herself from adulthood and also to have an excuse to not see Isaac and Theo. She wanted to distant herself from them, not wanting the feelings to continuously grow. It had been a slow day causing her to overthink about the two betas, she had been the only one working the night shift and she was due to close in only thirty minutes. Her phone rang, Isaac’s face flashing on the screen before she sighed and looked at the empty café. She answered his call bringing her phone to her ear. “Isaac.” She sighed out. Isaac was relieved to hear her voice, he wouldn’t admit it either but his feelings for her had also grown, how couldn’t they?  

“Hey sweetheart.” His pet name for her sinking into her stomach causing butterflies, she loved being talked to like that, especially by him. “I haven’t seen you in a while, what time do you get off, I can go pick you up and we can come back to my place.” His happy voice rang through the phone causing (y/n) to shut her eyes.  

“I can't Isaac, I have morning shift tomorrow and all I want to do is go home and sleep.” It wasn't all a lie, she did have morning shift however she wanted nothing more than to be with him, in his arms.

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, help you relax?” He’d try anything and everything just to see her, two weeks without her had been hell.  

“I’m sorry Isaac, not today.” She heard him sigh and her heart broke.  

“Just, call me when you’re up for it?” He waited for her response and when she said nothing, he hung up. She mentally cursed herself for denying him, she knew she needed to release some stress but she couldn't not while her feelings were involved. Closing the cafe she found herself throwing a fit and cursing at the door. The key always got stuck when she locked it.  

“Need some help princess?” She stopped in her tracks, she knew his voice, she knew his scent. She found herself closing her eyes before releasing her grip on the key loosening as she turned to see him. “Damn is it good to see you.” Theo spoke as his eyes wondered around her body.  

“Not today Theo.” She sighed as she focused her attention to the key again. She tried another four times before cursing at the key and kicking the door. Theo chuckled lightly pushing her out the way before taking the key off the door. “Thank you.” She gave him a small smile before taking the keys from his hands.  

“Why have you been ignoring me? It’s been what, two weeks?” Theo bit his lip. He found himself falling for her, even with his darkened heart, he allowed himself to feel something for her, only her.  

“You’re counting?” She rolled her eyes and began walking home, Theo following her.  

“Is it so hard to believe?” He grabbed her wrist spinning her around to face him, that was one thing Isaac and Theo didn’t share. Theo was always handsy, he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it. Isaac was a little bit more on the shy side. “I've missed you.” Theo whispered causing her to sigh and shake her head.  

“Please Theo, not today.” She pulled her hand from his grasp before continuing her walk towards her home.  

“At least let me walk you home, it’s not safe out there, you know that.” And as if it was in queue, she was thrown onto the street, her entire right-side scrapping on the pavement as Theo registered what had just happened. She heard a loud growl coming towards her as she struggled to get up, her side hurting as tears started to drip from her eyes, something was definitely broken. Theo sprang into action, tossing the unknown werewolf away from (y/n). “Are you okay?” Theo breathed out; he swore he felt his heart at the pit of his stomach. He looked around, the werewolf nowhere to be seen. She cried out in pain when she tried to sit up. “Hey, hey, stay down, I'll call the paramedics.” Theo’s hands shook as he took the phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t ever been this terrified in his life. He quickly gave 9-1-1, his heart beating faster by the minute. “Where’s it hurt?” Theo spoke as he hung up the phone, trying to get his mind to think clearly as he waited for the ambulance.  

“My whole right side, I think I broke a rib.” She hissed out; sure, she could tolerate pain but this hurt like hell. “Fuck.” She hissed out as tears continued to drip from her eyes.  

“Let me help you.” Theo gulped his hand reaching for hers but she quickly shook her head. She knew him taking her pain would be too much for her to handle. She knew Theo, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn't care about her, and she refused to let him in, especially like that. “(Y/N).” He whispered and before she could reply, the sound of sirens cut them both off. Before they knew it they were in Beacon Hills Hospital, Scott and the rest of the pack already there as Theo had texted Scott when they were in the ambulance. They wheeled her away, leaving Theo to stare after her as the pack asked him questions.  

“Theo!” Scott shook him out of his own mind. Theo turned to look at the worried pack, Isaac biting his nails as he waited for him to say something. “What the hell happen?” Scott asked and Theo shook his head trying to recollect the details of what had just happened.  

“A werewolf, it came out of nowhere, just threw her across the street and when I tried to fight him, he just left.” Theo looked at Scott, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  

“It’s after her.” Lydia spoke and they all looked at her. “Why else wouldn’t he have stayed and fought?” She questioned Theo, his mind already thinking of what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up to talk to her.  

“It’s a good thing you were with her.” Stiles spoke patting Theo’s back.  

“Why were you with her anyways?” Isaac questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him. The pack looked at Isaac.  

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” Theo spoke shaking his head as he sat down on a chair. “How are we going to handle this?” He looked at Scott before they all sat down.

____________

It had been three hours when they finally confirmed her thoughts, not only one broken rib but three. The skin on her right leg and arm completely broken from the pavement, they had wrapped them, in efforts to help the healing, they had given her something for the pain so she was a little loopy. A knock on the door startled her as she looked up from her arm. The pack filling the room as multiple sighs of relief were heard. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” Isaac spoke moving through the pack to go to her side. She couldn’t help but smile up at him when he took her hand in his, his lips placing a kiss on her scratched-up forehead. Theo looked at them, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

“The hell is going on there?” Stiles asked Scott who shrugged.

“You’re here.” She whispered placing her hand on his cheek, she was way out of it. She wouldn’t have done this, not in front of the pack, in front of Theo.

“Of course, I am sweetheart, where else would I be?” He gave her a small smile causing Theo to clear his throat.  

“Wait, what the fuck is happening right now?” Theo’s loud voice caused her head to snap towards him, her smile widening.  

“Theo.” She motioned for him to move closer and when he did Isaac looked at him. “Thank you for saving me.” She grabbed Theo’s hand, his confusion easing as the small act of affection cleared his mind. Isaac looking down at their hands as he looked at the pack, their eyes analyzing what the hell was going on.

“You know I'd do anything for you princess.” Theo whispered but his efforts to keep the pet name hushed was a fail, they all heard it, even Stiles and Lydia who weren't werewolves.  

“Princess?” Isaac huffed and Theo looked at him, both of their hands still resting in one of hers. “Look, why don't you and the rest of the pack go wait outside, yeah? I’ll keep her company.” Theo looked down at (y/n) her smile not fading as the medication continued to flow in her blood stream.  

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Look I was the one there, I was the one who helped her, I'm not going anywhere. So, how about you, go and wait outside.” Theo’s voice was always loud.  

“Guys, calm down.” Scott whispered as he looked at Stiles who shrugged. No one knew what the hell was going on.  

“What were you doing with her tonight Theo?” Isaac spoke and Theo rolled his eyes.  

“Look, not like it’s your business or anything but I was walking her home, alright.” Theo gave in, anything to shut him up already, you didn’t need this, you needed rest.  

“And why would you do that? You’re not her boyfriend.” Isaac spat out.

“Last time I checked; you weren’t either.” Theo snapped back. They both looked at each other, their eyes darkening before (y/n) giggled. They looked down at her confused on why she was laughing.  

“This is not how I expected things to go.” She shrugged.  

“What are you talking about?” Theo spoke.  

“I may have been seeing the both of you for six months.” She smiled before she giggled and closed her eyes. They both looked at her for a second, their mouths opening in shock before they looked at each other.

“Oh shit.” Stiles’ voice broke the silence in the room, they all looked at him before (y/n) laughed at his language.  

_____

[apexqueenie]

I’ve Missed You (Shoto Todoroki x Reader)

Warnings: Swearing, A N G S T

Hey everyone! I’m super excited to post the first request I’ve gotten by @bubblegum-bnha

Thank you all so much for reading!! Enjoy da spiciness❤️

“Sh-shoto,” you breathed, “again…?”

Shoto brushed his lips down your bare stomach, nuzzling against your soft skin. “Mmmmm why not?”

“Shooooooo-” you said as you playfully lifted his face off you. You looked into his dual colored eyes and smiled, happy to have such a wonderful boyfriend. “I have a patrol tomorrow and...I’d like to be able to walk you know…”

Shoto sighs in defeat and lifts his naked body off yours, shifting to cage your head in between his elbows. “You know I love you, right?” he mumbled, slowly lowering his face to yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep and slow kiss, a complete 180 from the rough and passionate one you were having ten minutes before. He pulled away, leaving you nearly breathless. “I love you so much more Sho” you smiled.

He smiled back and sat up, allowing you to get off the bed and retrieve your clothes scattered around the room. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?” he asked.

You shook your head no. “don’t wanna get caught by your old man again, remember last time?”

Shoto grimaced, remembering the ugly encounter the three of you experienced just a month ago. Endeavor caught you both (fully clothed) on the front porch, Shoto planting kisses along your jawline. Furious that his son was ‘tarnishing the Todoroki household’, Endeavor forbade Shoto from leaving the house for an entire week. He would hate to imagine what would happen if he caught the both of you naked. Sho still lived with his father just like his big siblings Fuyumi and Natsuo. As much as he wanted to move out into a place of his own, he was only 18. His pride wouldn’t allow himself to borrow his father’s money for a house. Instead, he bides his time, saving whatever he can from his hero career.

“Good point” he said, getting up to put on his own clothes. He watched as you slid your arms through your jacket and opened the window. You turned around, giving your lover one last ‘I love you’ before sneaking down to the roof of the second story floor. Shortly after he saw your figure disappear into the darkness of the night, he closed his window and sighed, walking to his door to grab a glass of water downstairs. That plan went to shit as soon as he opened the door.

Endeavor’s large stature filled the doorframe, radiating a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Shoto,” he said, dangerously calm.

“Father,” he replied, unfazed, mirroring the same glare he was given.

Endeavor sighed, bringing a hand up to his face to pinch the top of his nose, “I thought I told you to stop seeing that girl?”

Uneasiness hit Shoto’sentire body. Did his father find out about the two of you sleeping with each other? Relax, Shoto thought to himself, he didn’t say anything about that yet.

“I had someone install cameras around the property for...safety reasons…” Endeavor said, but Shoto could see right through the lies.

Shoto’s face scowled up at his father, “And?”

“And, I saw her come out of your window, Shoto. I understand you two do a lot of hero work together, but I think she needs to-”

“She has a name” he hissed.

“She-”

“(y/n)”

Endeavor sighed, getting more and more frustrated with his son’s behavior. Ever since the fire hero became number one in Japan, he’s tried to become a better father towards his kids, talking to them, spending time with them, giving them the attention they should’ve had a long time ago. Still, he hasn’t forgotten about making his youngest son the greatest hero in Japan. The Todoroki family has high expectations from the public, and with the elder siblings having no interest in hero work, Shoto was the only one to continue the legacy.

“Fine, I think that (y/n) needs to spend less time with you” Endeavor grunted, crossing his arms.

“Less time with me?” Shoto scoffed, “Enji, you don’t control me-”

Enji, not father, Shoto has struck a nerve. Endeavor’s face erupted in flames in a clear display of dominance as he glared down at his son. “Do you even hear yourself Shoto? You’re lacking at your job again, almost letting a civilian die the other day! Why? Because you failed to take your eyes off her when there were people in danger, (y/n)’s a hero for Pete’s sake! She can save herself when a civilian can’t!”

“I-“ For once, Shoto showed his father genuine emotion. His father was right, he did do everything that was just said. The guilt of that mistake crawling back to the pit of his stomach. “I thought the place was clear of civilians-” he started.

Lie. He knew there was one left, and he assumed the lady would run, but she didn’t. She was frozen with fear.

“And now you make pitiful excuses for your behavior?” Endeavor narrowed his eyebrows.

Shoto looked down, unable to say anything else in return. He remembered encasing the woman in ice before the debri could fall on her, but he could only do that because you were there, frantically pointing to the frightened lady before dodging one of the villain’s attacks. If you hadn’t done that, well...he didn’t even want to think about that. There was no excuse for his behavior. He turned his back on the helpless to focus on you, and that itself might as well be a crime.

His father sighed and extinguished the flames, placing a hand on Shoto's shoulders, “I understand that you love her Shoto, but this isn’t the first time this has happened. That’s four times this year so far, I can’t let you get distracted so easily when you’re putting civilian lives in danger-” Endeavor paused, bracing himself for what’s to come. He didn’t want it to come to this, but he had been pushed too far, so he said it.

One simple sentence, just one, was all it took to throw his son off track completely.

Shoto slapped his father’s hand away and stepped back in and anger. “What?!?”

“Shoto-“ Endeavor started

Shoto’s left side was the one erupting in flames now. “No, no I will not…I-“

“Shoto, it has already been arranged. Your mother has agreed to the arrangement as well.”

“M-mom?” Shoto stuttered, his parents actually agreed on something? The flames died down as he bowed his head, his anger dissolving into guilt. If his mom, his number one fan, had taken notice, then he really is screwing up.

“Yes, Rei is...worried about you Shoto, everyone is”

Silence.

“Of course, she supports this relationship anyhow, foolish if you ask me-”

Shoto couldn’t hear the words, it was all gibberish. He tried to get upset at his father, like he used to be, but he couldn’t. He knew it was his fault. Ever since he met you on the field, your quirk nearly outdoing his, he couldn’t help but awkwardly ask for your name, asking for a date, asking for your love. He was head over heels with you, the fire from your relationship burning brighter than what could ever be created through his left hand. But it was burning too bright, blinding him from seeing reality, preventing him from doing his part to protect the lives of others.

Endeavor looked at his miserable son, feeling slightly guilty from bringing this upon him so quickly. “You leave in 2 weeks son, I’m sorry but, this is what we think is best for you” he said before walking away to give Shoto space.

Shoto sat at the edge of his bed wondering what the hell he was gonna do now.

***

In the blink of an eye, two weeks have passed, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. You were always smiling with him. He'd rather see that for two weeks than dampen your personality with his own problems...but that backfired on him once he realized he had to tell you at some point, and that had to be soon. This was his last day with you, and you both chose to walk in the park at night, enjoying the emptiness and the cool spring breeze.

“Shoooooooo” you whined leaning up against your boyfriend’s arm “talk to me, you’ve been so moody today”. Your beautiful eyes looked up at his tired ones, pleading for an explanation. He stared back with sadness, striking anxiety in you, but you waited, giving him time to collect his thoughts. You thought you were prepared for anything...anything but this.

“I’m leaving”

Your eyes widened, “what? Waiiit, you’re just joking aren’t ya-“ but you looked at him, and he was dead serious.

“You- you’re done with me?”

The mood shifted quickly, the cool air surrounding you both turning ice cold.

“What? No, I’m leaving for America in about two hours. I love you more than anything (y/n), and I would never leave you”

You looked down at your feet coming to a stop in the middle of the pavement. That piece of news was just as bad as the last. Emotions flooded your system as you tried to process his words. America? That’s so far away.

“...For how long?” You asked quietly.

“Four years” he sighed.

Four years

Your stomach dropped as you struggled to absorb that information. “Sho, why-?” You started, biting back the tears that threatened to fall.

Shoto pursed his lips, unable to look you straight in the eyes, “My family said I need to focus on being a hero, that our relationship- that I was putting lives at risk-“

“And you agree with them?”

“Yes (y/n), I-“

“And you hadn’t bothered telling me you were leaving Shoto? You kept this from me until the last fucking minute when we said we wouldn’t hide anything from each other???”

“I didn’t have a choice (y/n)-”

“Of course you have a choice! What? Now that your daddy’s the number one hero, you have to-”

“My mother said it too (y/n)!” Shoto yelled. He never yelled at you, and seeing you flinch like that broke his heart. He reached out to you, your figure slowly backing away from him. “I’m sorry baby, I-“

“No” you interrupted, tears falling freely from your eyes “no, I understand, if...if your mom wants you to go then, then you should go”

Shoto tried to grab your arm, but you were fast, and quickly ran aimlessly through the park, ignoring your boyfriend’s cries for you to come back. You ran for what seemed like hours until you realized you were at the city limits. Away from the pain, away from the sounds of the city, away from Shoto- but the guilt was there, gnawing at your chest like a parasite.

You should have stayed.

You should have told him you love him.

You should have said goodbye.

But you didn’t, you let your emotions take control, you let your anger get the best of you and now you’re paying the consequences.

You placed a hand on your stomach, wincing at the physical pain that was catching up to you now that your adrenaline was gone

You should have told him you were pregnant.

It was too late now. Still, you ran back to his house, ringing the doorbell impatiently for someone to answer the door. Fuyumi answered, hair messy from just waking up, glasses sitting crooked at the bridge of her nose.

“(y/n)?” she blinked.

You grabbed her shoulders, shaking her wide awake. “Where’s Sho?”

“You uh, you just missed him, he was looking around for you for as long as he could but dad dragged him off to the airport” she said, clutching on to her glasses.

Shit

You fucked up big time, now he’s gone.

“Dammit” you cursed, sinking to the floor. “Fuyumi… I didn’t get to say goodbye” You wiped the tears from your face, but they just kept falling, one after the other. “He told me but...but I freaked out and ran away and imjustsuchafuckindumbassandijustwantshototocomeback-“

“Hush hush, let’s get you inside first before you catch a cold” she said, urging you inside. She made you tea and listened to you ramble on about Sho for nearly an hour. You really loved that idiot. After you calmed down a bit, she grabbed a hoodie from his room, handing it to you neatly folded. “Here, he’d want you to have this”.

You took the hoodie, holding it close as you breathed in his scent. “Thanks…” you sniffed. “I’ll get out of your hair now Fuyumi, thanks for listening to me”

“Are you sure you don’t need a cab home?” she asked, grabbing her phone to call a Todoroki family chauffeur.

You waved your hands “ah no thanks, its ok, my house isn’t that far from here anyways.”. You got up and hurried to open the door before she could insist any further.

“(y/n)?” she said. You stopped, the door halfway open. “You’re welcome to stop by anytime for tea”.

You smiled and whispered a thank you before embracing the cool night air again and starting the walk home.

***

For four years, you kept your child secret, careful not to make it known to the public that you were raising Shoto’s child without him. After a year of “hero vacation” you resumed your hero work as normal, re-designing your costume to cover your stretch marks. The public didn’t need to know the drama. The last thing you needed were headlines all over the news that Shoto had ditched you and… for him to read those headlines in America and forget about his studies to rush back to Japan.

Your beautiful baby boy was born with bright turquoise eyes, with the right one later reflecting the same color as yours. His soft hair bright red, definitely a Todoroki family marking. The physical similarities to Shoto ended there, the rest were attributed by none other than you.

You watched in adoration as your son sat on the floor, playing around with the action figures he received from “uncle” Deku and “auntie” Ochako, the only two who knew your secret. They were a godsend, regularly helping out with babysitting when it was your turn to go on patrols. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d make it this far if it weren’t for them.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized that your son had put his toys down and was staring right at you.

“Mama,” he said, “do I really have a dad?”.

Your eyes widened, astonished at how perceptive he is...just like Sho. No matter how many times you tell him the man in the pictures is his father, it doesn’t change the fact that he isn’t here in the flesh.

You slid off the couch to join him on the floor, pulling him gently onto your lap. “Baby, of course you have a dad-“

“-where is he?” He interrupted, looking at you with wide eyes.

“He’s….he’s not here right now baby, but you’ll see him some day” you replied, giving him a soft squeeze.

He pouted, “you always say that mama”

“I know, but it's true. You wanna see videos of him again?”

His eyes lit up. He loved watching old YouTube videos of Shoto’s hero work, amazed at how he used both fire and ice to take down the villains threatening the city. He excitedly made his way to the computer, both his Deku and Uravity figures forgotten on the floor, to watch his favorite hero in action.

Dinner was approaching in about an hour or so and you needed to quickly get some grocery shopping done. Just fifteen minutes or so, he’ll be fine right?

“Alright, I’m going to go get food ok? You sit here, understand? No opening the door for anyone except me, ok?”

“And papa?” He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

You looked back at him, the door already open “sure honey” you smiled, and closed the door, locking it from the outside.

Your shopping trip took a little longer than expected due to the long lines, and overall, it took you about half an hour to get back home. You were planning to make cold soba, your son’s favorite. Plain and simple, yet it put a smile on his face every time. You hummed to yourself as you unlocked the door to your house, no longer hearing the blaring sound of combat from the computer. Your son must be tuckered out, possibly asleep on the desk.

You opened the door, preoccupied with your thoughts and the groceries to notice your son wasn’t passed out like you thought. “I’m home” you said, slipping off your shoes.

“Mama! Look!”

You looked up, expecting to see a giant mess of toys instead when you saw-

“Sho…?” You breathed, unable to believe your eyes.

There he was, dressed in just a plain grey sweater, jeans, and the same old haircut he had four years ago. Despite all this, he was noticeably brawnier, his muscles becoming more defined underneath his clothing. You didn’t think it was possible for him to get even more handsome than he already was, but here he is. He looked up at you with the same look of awe as he sat next to your son, cross legged on the floor with the Deku action figure in one hand.

“It’s papa!” Your son exclaimed excitedly, running over to give your leg a hug.

You reached your hand down to give your son a pat on the back, not taking your eyes from his dad. “Sho, how in the world-“

“Uh, sorry for intruding but, Midoriya sent me your address earlier. Apparently, I’ve been sending letters to an empty mailbox for quite some time now” he smiled sheepishly, pulling out a stack of envelopes from his book bag next to him. “Are you...wearing my hoodie?”

So he has tried to contact you. You thought all along that he’d forgotten about you, that he found some beautiful American girl while he was out there. Relief washed over you until another question nagged at the back of your mind. He had a phone didn’t he? You opened your mouth to say something, but it was like he could read your thoughts.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to call you, they didn’t allow phones in this school. After all...” he shrugged, “my father obviously had to pick the most prestigious hero program in America”.

Your son’s eyes lit up, “America? Papa, I wanna show you a thing!” he said before scrambling off to his room.

“Sho…” you said as soon as your son left, your voice cracking a bit with tension. You dropped the bag you were carrying and took small wobbly steps towards your lover. He sat up on his knees, arms wide open to catch you as you lunged forward, wrapping him up in a giant bear hug. You couldn’t hold back any longer and let your tears flow, quietly sobbing Shoto’s name in the crook of his neck. He rubbed slow circles on your back as he gripped you just as tightly as you held on to him. He pulled away moments afterwards to catch your lips in a sweet kiss, releasing all the pent up feelings you thought you could lock away deep inside your memories.

“I missed you so fucking much” he said. He rarely ever swore.

“Shhhhh, don’t teach our son how to swear this early” you smiled, pressing a finger to hush his lips.

Shoto sat back on his hunches, pulling you into a cradle with his strong arms, “so he really is ours huh” he said, bringing his hands down to your waist, “...I’m sorry I wasn’t here for him (y/n)...”. He looked straight into your eyes, reaching to squeeze your hand “I promise, I’m going to be here for him from now on, I’m not leaving you ever again.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. All those tears, all those years of anger and frustration, they all melted away as you two sat there, lost in your own world.

“Papa?” your son called. You smiled and got off Shoto’s lap, letting ‘papa’ stand up.

“We’re getting married next week, just so you know” he whispered in your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead and heading to see what his little rascal had to show him.

“About time” you mumbled with a grin.

[ororowrites]

Stripped -  (Yahya x Black OC)

Sweet Thang Series - Chapter 2

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2,735

One-Shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1

By the end of the first song, Candace was in her comfort zone. Yahya never let his eyes leave her and she no longer felt shy. The club had rules about no touching but Candace suddenly wanted this man’s hands all over her. Those long fingers and smooth brown skin were doing things to her. Maybe it was the liquor making her horny over a man she didn’t even know. 

Little did Candace know, Yahya had thoughts racing in his mind too. He couldn’t stop thinking about her petite body under his or how her lips would feel on him. Candace was a beautiful woman and something about her intrigued Yahya. When she straddled his legs and began to grind on his lap, the urge to touch her grew. The scent of her perfume was as intoxicating as her hips, almost putting a spell on him. 

It must have been the alcohol that gave Candace the courage to make her next move. She could feel his breath on her lips before they were interrupted by the dance timer. The euphoria they had experienced quickly disappeared as they fell back to Earth. 

“Shit, sorry,” Candace apologized, swinging her legs to the floor. Yahya became any other customer and she held her hand out to collect her payment. “Thank you. You enjoy the rest of your night.” 

Yahya opened his mouth but Candace was already heading out the door, stuffing the bills in her bra. 

-------

Well into the next morning, Yahya was still thinking about the mystery girl from the club. He’d been to many strip clubs and never felt a connection with any of the ladies he encountered. Something about her grabbed him and sucked him in and had her on his mind hours later. 

“You still stuck on that hoe from the club.” Damon lit his blunt and relaxed his head against the back of the sofa. “Nigga, we ain’t taking you to the club again.”

“Word on the street is that the shawties at Dynasty have golden pussy or some shit,” his brother added with a drug induced chuckle. 

“Respect the ladies, man. Being a stripper doesn’t make them hoes. And Kevin that’s enough kush for you. Golden pussy? Really,” Yahya snatched the blunt from his friend and put it back in the ashtray. 

“Aight, let me respect the skrippas. But still, you don’t know her. What if she’s crazy? You will be going back home tomorrow night and no tellin’ when you’re coming back to LA, so why does it matter,” Damon explained. 

“Both of ya’ll are some fucking haters. Trash asses.” Yahya grabbed his phone and took his troubles to the balcony. Kevin and Damon were great friends but their childish, misogynistic antics got on his nerves when he was around them. At times, he felt like he was outgrowing them, even though he still considered them brothers he never had. While he was looking to settle down sooner rather than later, they were stuck in the same phase they were in throughout high school and college and it appeared to be a never ending cycle. 

Was it ridiculous to think that the stripper he met at the club was the one? Yep. But, that didn’t keep Yahya from wishing he could see her again before he was back to the reality of being jobless. 

-------

“Are you sure you saw him with her?” The very question had Candace’s heart pounding against her chest. Natalie, Maxwell’s ex-girlfriend, had entered the picture again after Candace thought her dropping out of school was the blessing they needed. Now with her back in California via North Carolina, she had access to Maxwell as did he to her. 

“Sis, would I lie to you? I saw that bastard with her in the Commons. Took everything out of me not to run up on them and start whooping ass,” Trinity said, fuming on her sister’s behalf. Truth be told, she never liked Maxwell and knew the type of guy he was from the beginning. Maxwell was charming and had the ability to make any girl weak in the knees. Especially a woman like her sister that was in love with being in love. 

Anger built from the pits of her stomach. Feelings of betrayal had never quite faded since they had made up and she ignored it in the name of love. “Did he see you?” 

“Nope. But I’ll make myself seen when it comes to my sister. Candy, why are you still trying to make things work with this immature, cheating ass, motherfucker? I try to hold my tongue like you ask but I refuse to hold it again. You’re too good for him.” When it came to family. Trinity was the sister that would physically fight for her siblings. At times, Candace admired her sister’s tenacity and wished she wasn’t as timid when it came to relationships with people. That was one negative trait that kept Candace anchored to people that did not deserve her time. 

“I honestly don’t know.” Tears began to form in Candace’s eyes as the shame set in for her. She knew Maxwell was no good for her but he always found a way back into her heart. “I’m...um...I’m going to talk to him.”

“Candace,” Trinity called out, noticing her sister’s emotions getting the best of her. “Please don’t cry over that man. Please.” 

If only Candace knew her worth. 

-------

Candace took the scenic route to Maxwell’s apartment, playing different scenarios in her head on the way. If she murdered him, where would she hide the body? Did she just hit him with questions or soften him up first? 

None of those scenarios played out once Candace reached her destination and was met by Natalie in the hall outside Maxwell’s apartment. The three of them froze, each of them searching for words to break up the awkward moment. 

“I should get going. I’ll call you when I get home,” Natalie mumbled, lowering her eyes and pushing past Candace. 

“I knew that apology was a lie and you were full of shit,” Candace spoke through clenched teeth. She was taught to never put her hands on anyone and it took a strong prayer to keep her fists at her sides. “What the hell is Natalie doing here and don’t even think about lying.” 

Maxwell didn’t even put up a fight. Besides, after the news he had learned, he didn’t have the energy to lie or smooth talk his way out of this one. 

“What was she doing here, Maxwell?”

“Natalie’s pregnant,” he replied, leaning against the wall across from Candace. He watched as his girlfriend’s face fell blank. “I fucked up and I’m sorry for that. You don’t deserve the shit I put you through.” 

Still lost for words, Candace slid down the wall until her rear hit the concrete floor. Pregnant. That had to be the final straw, right? The game they had been playing for the past three years had come to a tragic end that Candace feared. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I know I stay apologizing but I mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

Maxwell kept his distance. “Did what?” 

“If you didn’t mean to hurt me, this would have stopped after the first incident. But I gave you chance after chance and you still didn’t fucking stop. I’m done, Max. I can’t put myself through this shit because it’s obvious you won’t stop. I’m foolish to even think you would,” Candace spoke in a hushed tone, never raising her voice or releasing the tears that threatened to fall. 

“I’m-”

“I don’t wanna hear another one of your tired excuses. I sure the hell hope your dick is clean. I’ll come back for my shit another day.” 

“Candy, come on-” 

“Move! Don’t fucking touch me.” Blood rushed to Candace’s face as the embarrassment set in and she could no longer look Maxwell in the eye. This relationship had become a part of her identity and she allowed it to consume her so much that she forgot to love herself. “We’re done, Maxwell.” 

Candace ignored the apologies and groveling. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she didn’t intend to put it back ever again. 

------

Yahya had one more day to enjoy Los Angeles before he had to return to San Francisco to figure out his next move. He was desperate to burn off steam and decided to hit the park for a workout. The skies were clear, granting Yahya  a good dose of vitamin D while he ran the steps. He pushed himself to do one more set before taking a lap around the trail for a cool down. Yahya was so focused, he didn’t notice Candace approaching him from the opposite sidewalk. 

“Hey...wassup,” he said, removing his headphones when he finally saw the brown beauty in his path. 

“Hey. Didn’t think I’d run into one of my customers...ever,” Candace chuckled nervously. The breakup had her emotions all over the place and gave her the bravado to approach a man from the club. Keeping those two lives separate  was important to her except in that moment. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t want to think of myself as your customer. That’s a little weird,” Yahya admitted, earning a nod from Candace in agreement. “But since we’re outside of your job, can I get your real name?” 

“Candace.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Candace. I’m Yahya.”

A short, awkward moment of silence gave Candace time to get a better look at the man she had danced on in a dark strip club. Beautiful dark brown skin covered a body that looked like it was sculpted with the utmost care. If you looked up tall, dark and handsome in the dictionary, Yahya’s picture would be used as the definition. Once her eyes traveled back up to his face, his bright, white smile captured her and held on for dear life. The man was fine and seeing him in the light had Candace acting like a shy, school girl. 

“You live around here,” Candace asked, breaking the silence. 

“No, I’m visiting my boys from back home. I’m living in San Francisco right now. I go back tomorrow evening,” he explained, looking Candace over. She was petite compared to his 6′3 frame. “You?” 

“I’m from Chicago but moved here to go to school. Trying to live the dream, ya know?” 

“I hear that,” Yahya nodded. “Well Candace, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we ran into each other. Would you like to get a recovery smoothie with me? My treat. Unless you’re still in the middle of your workout.” 

“I can cut out early. I know a good smoothie spot not too far from here if you don’t mind walking.” 

Yahya’s smile grew, “Sounds like a plan, let me put on a shirt.” 

Or not, Candace thought to herself. 

--------

After the ice was broken, Candace and Yahya began to enjoy each other’s company. The break-up earlier that day was still on Candace’s mind, but she felt at ease being around Yahya. Sure, they didn’t know one another on a deep level, yet she could sense Yahya’s compassion. When she spoke, his eyes stayed on her and he truly listened. One thing that irked her about Maxwell was his inability to listen below the surface level. 

“That’s too bad. Many of these fellas out here don’t appreciate their lady until she’s gone.” Maxwell sounded like many men Yahya knew and the type of man his parents raised him not to be. He could see the hurt in Candace’s face when she described what had led up to the end of their relationship. 

“Yeah, it’s just a shame I wasted my time and my heart on a guy that didn’t want to protect it.”

“His loss, your win.” 

Dumping personal information on a stranger was not how Candace usually moved, nonetheless it felt good. “I’m sorry for treating you like a therapist.”

“Nah, you’re good. You had a rough day. I don’t mind listening.” 

“Thanks, but I wanna hear more about you. What do you do in expensive ass San Francisco,” Candace quizzed, sipping her raspberry/banana smoothie. 

Yahya hoped telling Candace about his unemployment wouldn’t ruin his chances. He still hadn’t shared the news with anyone else. “I was a City Planner for the Mayor’s office but I was laid off on Friday. I honestly don’t even know what the hell I’m going to do when I go back home.” 

One of Candace’s strongest traits was her empathy. She had no issue stepping into a person’s shoes and feeling what they felt. Those that were worthy enough to spend time with her felt Candace’s warmth right away. Yahya could feel it, which is why he felt comfortable sharing the news with her.

“I’m sorry, Yahya. Shit sucks when you get well into your career and your job is in another person’s hands,” Candace sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Are you thinking about staying there and getting another job?”

“To be honest, I need a change of scenery. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise because I think I got comfortable in my lifestyle. I loved my job but things were stagnant,” he explained, tracing the lettering on his smoothie cup. “Right now, I’m thinking about taking a break and figuring out what I want to do from there. I’ll get unemployment, so I’ll manage until I find another career that makes me happy.” 

“That’s brave of you. I’m too damn scary and would need to have a plan right away. Good luck with that. You seem to be a determined man so you’ll find your way. I’m hoping I can graduate and get into Yale then we will see if I make a career out of this acting thing. If not, I’ll go back to school for education and teach theatre.” 

“Wow, Yale? I did some acting classes back in the day and they seemed pretty cool. I don’t know if I have the talent to get into a school like Yale though. I need to work on my Denzel cry first.” The two shared a laugh and finished up their smoothies. 

Time passed as their conversation ranged from discussing their childhoods to recent life events. They were so deep into discussion, they didn’t notice that two hours had gone by since they first arrived at the smoothie shop. Candace was more easy going than Yahya thought. That shy exterior had fallen down, exposing the sweet and funny side of her. Like many women in the stripping industry, her persona in the club was a lot different from her true self. He wished he could get to know more of that side.

They walked back towards the park, where their cars were parked on a side street. Yahya walked Candace to her Jeep and waited for her to load the backseat with her duffle bag. 

“Thanks for the smoothie and talk. I needed that more than I thought,” Candace closed the back door and stood in front of the driver’s side door. “Dr. Yahya is a great listener, even though we’re complete strangers.” 

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I wasn’t kidding about taking some acting classes with you when I’m in town,” he replied, flashing his wide grin. 

“I’ll hold you to that Mr. Abdul-Mateen. Like I said, acting is like recess so it’ll be fun. Who knows, maybe you’re a natural at the shit.” 

“We’ll see, we’ll see. I won’t hold you up, you should probably get home before it gets too dark. Text me when you make it.” 

“Alright. Thanks again, Yahya. For real,” Candace’s soft curls blew over her face as the wind picked up. 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for listening to me ramble. Get home safely and don’t forget to let me know.” Yahya leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Candace’s cheek. The simple act almost made her melt into a puddle in the LA street. Opening her car door, Yahya waved her inside. “Bye, Candace.” 

“See you later.” 

Candace drove away feeling like a new chapter of her life was on the horizon and she was ready to face whatever it had in store. 

Taglist: @blackburnbook​ @just-peachee​ @emjayewrites​

Want a tag? Let me know. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part five

An unexpected phone call from Harry while he was out of town certainly wasn’t what your rising level of hormones needed. You were seven weeks pregnant, nauseous at random times in the day, and still incredibly tight lipped about the tiny pea-sized human inside of you. 

But the phone call wasn’t really what had you in tears--it was his request for a FaceTime call so you could meet his mum and his sister. He promised that they were shocked but excited nonetheless, happy that you weren’t a complete stranger and certainly not just a random hook up. 

Okay, so I guess he’s a liar, Lexi laughed, unintentionally dredging up the embarrassment that slept in the pit of your stomach. 

But he swore they were excited, especially once he promised you that he didn’t make it sound like you were a longtime friend or a girlfriend. Don’t lie to them about how we know each other, Harry, don’t make it sound like this wasn’t an accident. 

So when the call came across your phone, you swallowed the panic and the nausea and hoped for the best. Lexi and Glenne sipped margaritas at the counter and pretended they weren’t there. They wrote notes on paper and slid suggestions your way. Ask about what they’ve done as a family while he’s home. Say you can’t wait to meet them in person!

It was fine enough--they wished you well and promised to meet face to face soon. His mother cried a bit and said she was happy--shocked, I’m not going to lie, but happy nonetheless. 

So you didn’t expect to hear from him for a few days. He’d be home on Sunday--he’d mentioned it in passing on the FaceTime call--so you were sure you’d have time to settle and prepare for whatever was upcoming.

But when your phone rang on the counter Thursday night, Lexi was eating a bowl of cereal in her underwear in front of an SVU marathon. You slid your thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

His voice was quiet, you tried to do the math of what time it was there. “Hi--s’me.”

“Hi,” you paused to stand over the sink, your back to Lexi for whatever sliver of privacy your apartment could afford. 

“What are you up to?”

“Just got home from work, actually. We’re just gonna hang out tonight, kind of tired, honestly.”

He hummed in response, you could hear the sleep in his voice. You wondered where he was. In bed? About to brush his teeth? You didn’t ask why he called.

“Do you feel alright?”

“Yeah,” you reassured. “I’m fine. Kind of nauseous and just more tired than usual--but I think that’s normal.”

“Right. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know,” you laughed. “It’s been a minute. What have you been up to?”

“A lot of meetings, honestly. Spent a few nights in London for a photoshoot for the album cover, merch stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

You held the phone in place with your shoulder, shifting over to the fridge to find an appetizing snack. “That sounds cool--better than getting angry emails about your font choice.”

“Yeah I can’t say I’ve experienced that. But look, I, uh, I’m glad you got to talk to my family the other night.”

You paused, a swell of emotion in your eyes. It might not have been your most cherished social interaction to date, but he hadn’t said anything to make you think it had crashed and burned. “Me too, it was almost sort of fun--aside from all the crying I’m doing.”

Lexi’s ears perked up at that, she made a face from the living room. If she didn’t know who was on the phone, she did now.

“Right,” he laughed. “S’the hormones, I guess, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “When do you think I could, you know, see you again?”

“Dunno,” You sighed, a rush of heat on your cheeks. “You’re back Sunday and it’s a busy week at work, next week. So, maybe next weekend or something?”

“Yeah--okay, I just, miss you, is all.”

“Oh--uh, yeah, it’s been forever,” you looked over at Lexi, still pretending like she was watching TV and not eavesdropping. You didn’t know if you should say it back. Did you miss him? Sure--maybe you felt a little weird not knowing what he was up to or not wanting to text him about new symptoms, but--you didn’t know if that counted as missing him. In all honesty, you were kind of surprised he said it. 

So you settled on something in between. “Yeah--I can’t wait for you to come home. Or, back to LA, I guess.”

“I can stop by, when I land, if you’re around Sunday.”

“Yeah--I should be here, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“What time is it?”

“One in the morning,” he stifled a laugh. “I saw my dad for dinner tonight--hung out with my sister. Just getting to sleep now and wanted to see how you were.”

You licked at your lips, trying to ignore the spark in your veins when you realized that he was thinking about you. You were out of sight, but not out of mind. You expected to be out of both.

“Alright--well, I’m fine. You can sleep, you sound tired.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay--so I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then, Harry. Night.”

You hung up and set it down on the counter, surprised at the smile on your face.

Lexi looked up from the bowl of cereal she had on her lap. Eyes wide, she held your gaze for a second. “You are so catching feelings, homegirl.”

You made a face, a scoff before you retorted. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are!” She put the bowl on the coffee table and crawled over on the cushions to get a better view of you in the kitchen. “I had fun too, that sounds so cool, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

You rolled your eyes--her impression of you wasn’t too far off, but she managed to raise the octave of your voice when she twirled a piece of her hair around a finger. 

“I’m being nice to him, he’s the father of my unborn child, is that okay?”

“More than fine,” she laughed, waving a hand at you. “That’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard.”

You settled on a spoonful of peanut butter to hold you over until dinner. You uncapped the lid of the jar. “It’s nothing, okay? We’re friends. Don’t you think we need to be friends if we’re having a baby?”

“Y/N, look--” she stood from the couch and came over to the island, watching as you dipped a spoon inside. “I love you, with all my heart. I love the little lump of cells in your uterus--and I would regret it if I didn’t say that you and Harry falling in love would just about make my 2019 altogether.”

You shoved it in your mouth and spoke around it. “Alright, well, don’t hold your breath.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, dismissing your comment before she turned to go back to the couch. “You’re obnoxious.”

“I’m reasonable and rational. Just because I got over my whole hating him phase doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

“Okay, first off, you never hated him. So I don’t even know who you’re trying to play.”

“Well I didn’t really like him at first. And I definitely didn’t like the idea of being pregnant with a stranger’s baby, okay? This has been a weird two months.”

“Exactly. You’re two months pregnant with a popstar’s baby--one who happens to be cute and rich and charming as fuck! And you’re saying you’re not gonna catch any feelings.”

You shook your head. It wasn’t like that. “I’m co-existing with the father of my child and being friendly. We’ve hung out, what? Maybe like, seven times? And two of which were to sign paperwork about how I won’t sue him or blackmail him and another two were for doctors appointments? That’s not exactly for fun, Lexi.”

You didn’t mean to sound so defensive--but maybe you were saying it for your good as well as hers. No one needed to get their hopes up, especially not you. 

She laughed, reached for the remote to unmute her show. “Okay--well, when you wake up one day and realize you’ve got it bad for him, don’t say I didn’t call it.”

“Okay,” you promised sarcastically, “I’ll be sure to tell you when that happens.”

**

He didn’t stop by after the airport like he’d said. His flight was delayed and by the time he landed you were fast asleep, though you did wake up to a few messages. 

Harry (11:56pm): I just landed, took so long, I’m sorry. Are you up?

Harry (12:02am): I’d still love to stop by if you are. 

Harry (12:04am): I’ll see you soon xx

You replied the next morning, promising that it was fine and you were asleep and you’d definitely, certainly see him soon. You didn’t tell Lexi that you really wanted to. 

So you had to make an excuse when she asked if you wanted to meet her for dinner on Melrose, and then you had to dodge Simone on your way out of the office on Monday. 

“You were such a help today,” she said, catching up with you when you flicked off the lights in your office and shut the door. “I never thought Carson would admit that he made a mistake, but, there’s a first for everything.”

You had your work bag over your shoulder, sunglasses on your head when you laughed. “I’m glad he took me seriously, for once.”

“You’ve been busy lately--I feel like you’re never here.”

Her comment wasn’t loaded, Simone was always encouraging everyone to have a better work-life balance. 

“I know--I’ve had a lot going on, but I’m all good.”

“You sure? Do you need help with anything?”

“No--I finalized that ad today for the new line of home tech, so--we should be fine.”

“Okay,” she smiled, a sliver of skepticism in her eyes. “Where are you off to now?”

“A friend’s,” you said casually. Not a lie. “Haven’t seen him in forever, so--just catching up.” Not completely a lie. 

She raised her eyebrows a bit. “A male friend? That’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not, I swear. But I should go--the 405 is already a shit show, so.”

“Yeah, okay,” she fell into step beside you, pulling off at her office door that was only a few steps down the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The parking lot was full and the Southern California sun beat down on the pavement--you called your mom on your way to Harry’s and asked if hot flashes came along with being pregnant. She was glad you got to FaceTime with his family, but jealous, she admitted. I’ll come to town when they do, she promised. We’ll all go out to brunch!

The drive up through the hills was nice, windows down, radio hummed and made you feel as if all was normal. The butterflies didn’t kick in until you parked and walked up the front steps. 

He greeted you at the door, hair coiffed in the afternoon sun. He squinted, lips turned up at the corners when he let his eyes sweep over your figure. “Hi,” an outstretched arm to offer you a platonic side-hug. “How was work?”

“Fine,” you said, stepping inside the air conditioned walls. You let your work bag fall onto the floor beside you. “My coworkers definitely know that something is up.”

You were surprised when a look of panic didn’t cross his face. He laughed, headed over past the stairs and into the kitchen. “Yeah--why’s that?”

“Cause I’ve had to work from home a fair amount and I don’t tell them why.”

His forehead creased, worry on his face as if something was wrong.

“Just when I have a doctor’s appointment or something,” you reassured. “But normally I’d tell them why and I haven’t and then today when I was leaving, Simone--she’s on my team--asked why I was in a hurry to leave.”

“And?” He grabbed a glass from a sleek black cupboard, placed it beneath the faucet. 

“I just said I was seeing a friend.”

He handed the glass over, now filled three-quarters of the way with water. He raised his eyebrows in a triumphant smirk. 

“What?”

“You called me your friend.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think that baby daddy would be appropriate.”

“Fair,” he leaned his head to the side and watched as you sipped the water. After a second, he turned his back, stopped to look over a piece of paper on the counter. “Well, I’m gonna make us some dinner. Figured you might be sick of In N’ Out and seeing as take away is the only low key option, prepare yourself for a culinary masterpiece.”

You swallowed the water quickly, trying to hide the shock on your face. “Do you cook, like, ever?”

He turned around, offended. “What? Y/N are you kidding? Of course I cook.”

“Well I didn’t know if you have someone do that sort of thing for you.”

He made another face, blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Take a seat,” he said finally, motioning to a stool on the other side of his island. “Watch.”

He diced onion, chopped up carrots. What is this? You teased. Chicken soup? 

But you were close--a roast chicken dish that his grandmother had passed down to his mom. My specialty, he promised. So you sat there for a while, you told him about Carson and the rude emails, about the possible promotion and your nervousness about what would happen when--you know--there was someone else involved. 

“Someone else?”

“A child,” you said. “You know, that thing in my uterus that we saw the other week. It’s gonna be super different when it’s here. He or she or they or whoever. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be Team Lead if I have a baby on my nipple.”

Another smirk, then a shrug. “We can get a nanny.”

“No--I don’t--we don’t need that.”

“Well--if I’m going to be on tour at some point next year and you’re getting promoted, we might need some help.”

You hadn’t ever thought that far ahead. Not past the possibility of being pregnant at work and eventually having to tell everyone that you were, in fact, pregnant. “We have friends and family, though. I don’t want my baby raised by a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t be a stranger, love,” he picked up a pair of tongs, stirred the contents inside the pan. “It’d be a nanny.”

“Well, I think it’s too soon to go there.”

He let the tongs rest on the counter. A moment of silence passed between you. 

That’s when you looked around, looked over your shoulder at the living room behind you. The arm of the couch you sat on in a tight dress--the coffee table you’d left your drink on that night when he showed you the bedroom upstairs. 

“I haven’t actually been in here since that night,” you said, your words floated towards the ceiling, large windows overlooked the backyard, a pool, sleek white chairs to lay in the sun. 

“You stood in the foyer when you told me.”

You laughed, looked over your shoulder at him. He was leaned against the counter, sunlight giving you a good look at the ink on his arms. “I kind of wiped that day from my memory.”

“I can show you--upstairs--if you want.”

“The scene of the crime?”

“The conception of our child,” he said, pointed a finger in the air to correct you. He motioned with his chin towards the stairs, started walking before you agreed. “Come on.”

So you hopped off the stool, followed him up the large staircase that twisted around itself, bringing you up to a hardwood landing and a long hall. The master ensuite was at the end, apparently, he pointed out guest rooms and a home office before he opened a set of double doors.

“Wow,” you said, almost more to yourself than to him. 

He snickered, “you’ve seen it before, remember?”

“Yeah, but, I was drunk and it was dark.”

You didn’t remember the view--but you did remember him pressing a button on a remote somewhere to draw the curtains. He laughed and fell onto the bed that night, insisting that you must have been a real trooper to put up with Lexi running lines at all hours of the night prior to big auditions. 

“Yeah--well this is it,” he said, a few steps forward towards the end of the king sized bed. “Bathroom’s over there, good tub.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable, like somehow you were both back in that night, ghosts of your past selves tangled in the sheets.

“Yeah--definitely quite a romantic spot, so, I don’t blame us that night.”

You laughed at that, rolled your eyes when he walked over to the floor to ceiling windows, crossed his arms and took in the view of Los Angeles. You shrugged. “I mean--we could have done a few things better.”

“Hey,” he chastised, turning around with a smirk on his face. “It was a magical night!”

“Right--if you count the drunken fumbling and then, you know, the whole conceiving a child thing.”

“We were drunk but it was still--good.”

An awkward beat, pink on your cheeks before you turned around to look at the white duvet. He had to say that, right? He definitely couldn’t say it was bad or he didn’t remember or something.

“I remember almost falling off the bed at one point.”

“Right after I took your bra off--you tried to make sure it wasn’t improperly folded,” he choked back a laugh, a knowing look on his face about how you tended to be with neatness. “But in full transparency, Y/N, I wasn’t really worried about how it was folded. I was more just trying to kiss you.”

You ignored the look on his face, one that made you feel like he was flirting with you. “Then I remember you putting on a condom--like you should.”

“Right, grabbed it from the bedside table,” he went over and opened the drawer, pulling out a black and gold box, tiny foil squares inside. 

You sighed at the sight of them--the tiny devices that should have kept this from happening. A few steps forward, an extended hand to look at the box. “99% effective my ass.”

You flipped it over in your hands, he let out a sigh. 

“Harry, hold on--is this, it says expires 2018. It’s 2019.”

“What?” He reached for the box and took it out of your hands quickly, holding it closer to his face this time to look at the tiny, black numbers on the side. “Fuck.”

“Are you kidding?” You stepped back from him. “You had expired condoms and we had sex with an expired condom and that’s why this happened?”

You weren’t as angry as you sounded, mostly shocked and annoyed and honestly, sort of nauseous from all of the scents that followed you up from the kitchen.

“I didn’t know--I obviously wouldn’t have used them if I knew--I just, I hadn’t been here in a while before then!”

You let out a sigh and squeezed your eyes shut, pinched at the bridge of your nose.

He stepped towards you, his voice filled with concern. “Is something wrong? Are you sick?” 

You opened your eyes quickly, offered him a death glare. “No--I just can’t believe you’re that stupid!”

He rolled his eyes at that, tossed the box on the bed and let his hands fall against his sides. “Well, my apologies, then. It’s all my fault.”

“No--I’m not, I’m sorry, it’s just,” you opened your eyes now, rubbed at them a few times before letting him come back into focus. “That explains it. Now we know. It’s no one’s fault.”

He sat on the bed, a tiny laugh from between his lips. “I mean, it’s sort of mine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, dimples on his cheeks when he looked up at you. You sat beside him on the bed and let your back hit the mattress. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You stared at the ceiling, hoping that deep breaths would quell the nausea inside of you. In, out, in, out. Another plane was visible out the window, taking off this time, nose pointed towards the sky, bringing the people inside far away from a busy Los Angeles.

“You know,” he turned around, pulled a knee up onto the duvet when he stared down at you. His voice was quiet and the sun that seeped through the windows gave him a bit of a glow. “I have a feeling that one day we won’t regret it as much as we do right now.”

The word already left a bad taste in your mouth--regret. It was that stupid tracking app--as soon as you started seeing fruit sizes, you were done for. You could regret it or wish it hadn’t happened but the truth was that you were here and it was real and you already felt a growing love for the lump of cells that had attached to your uterine lining. 

“I know,” you said quietly. 

More silence. He watched you for a second until you stood up, heading back to the kitchen, suddenly hungry for dinner and desperate for more water. 

“This is bullshit,” you said later that night, feet up on the coffee table when he flipped through channels on TV. “Haven’t you seen those things where the guy doesn’t drink throughout the pregnancy either, cause he’s a good partner?” You caught the word as soon as it slipped out. “Not that--you know--just that most people are married in this situation.”

“I know what you mean,” he didn’t even look over at you, settled on Jeopardy before he put down the remote and picked up the glass of wine that he’d nursed through dinner. “That’s a big ask, Y/N.”

“Having your child because you used an expired condom is a big ask, Harry.”

He raised his glass of wine towards you, as if to cheers. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it was no one’s fault?”

“Well--it’s your fault I can’t have a glass of cabernet.”

He leaned over, let a hand rest on your thigh and looked you in the eyes. “When she’s here and you can drink, I’ll buy you all the wine you want.”

A thump in your chest--you’d kept yourself from taking a guess. “She’s a she?”

“Don’t you think?” He let go now, moved back to his seat and picked up his wine casually before he reached to check his phone. 

“I hadn’t thought at all, really, about it. One way or another.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

“Do you want it to be a girl?”

He pushed his lips out in thought. “No preference. Just a feeling.”

A pause--the daily double logo flashed on the screen. “Do you want to find out at some point?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. I don’t know when they can tell, so.”

“Me neither. We don’t have to.”

He changed the subject, then. Asked about Lexi and promised you that Jeff wasn’t upset. He had another glass of wine and showed you pictures from his trip home. One of him and his sister on a hike--another with his mom and her cat, socked feet on their couch one night after dinner. 

His world was a strange one--far away from yours but somehow it had already fully collided. At 9:30pm you decided it was best to head home. Traffic would be light if you were lucky, but a 7am wake up call was waiting on the other side of sleep. He handed you the work bag you’d dropped on the floor and offered a closed lip smile. “Can I see you again soon?”

You hesitated, slung the strap over your shoulder and tried to come up with the right response. “Yeah--I mean, if you want. I know you’re busy, you don’t--like--have to hang out with me, remember?”

He shook his head, his tone a bit harsh when he searched your eyes for an answer. “I want to--why is that so impossible for you to swallow?”

“It’s not impossible--I just, I don’t know. We don’t really know each other and we don’t have to pretend like this is anything other than what it is.”

“I want to know you. You’re the mother of my child, Y/N.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay,” you said, defeated. You didn’t know if you believed him. You wanted to. But the hormones in your system were likely untrustworthy. Getting to know him meant you could like it, like him. It meant you could get attached and getting attached meant you could get hurt. You pushed the thought out of your head. You were thinking about it too much already. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

**

Jeff watched as you sat in the chair, a rubber band tied tight around your arm. “He’ll be here,” he said. “He’s just running late, I guess.”

You nodded, hoping the nurse with blue gloves wouldn’t get excited when she saw who Jeff was referring to. 

They’d decided the paternity test would be done by a third-party lab. Another doctor’s office, this time in Burbank. Jeff watched as the needle slid into your vein, a vial in the nurse’s hand soon filled. 

A knock on the door, another nurse with Harry in tow once the first vial had been replaced with a second. “Hi,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Sorry--I was doing some stuff with Emma at the house.”

You waved awkwardly, left arm still held in the hands of the nurse. She smiled in his direction, you’d watched her sign the NDA that Jeff had brought, a letter from Dave’s office, a watermark made it official. 

How awkward, you thought. Various people here and there now knew. Dr. Weston’s office. These nurses. You wondered when there’d be the inevitable meeting about coming out with it. What would be said when something finally leaked? How would you keep your privacy or your sanity when people wanted more information from you? 

“Okay,” the nurse smiled, a wad of gauze over the crook of your elbow. “All set.”

“Am I up?” Harry took a step forward, ready to climb into the chair. 

“Just a cheek swab, from you,” she replied, setting the second vial in a stand beside the first. She stuck a label on to each of them, reached for a long q-tip and then turned around. Harry opened his mouth, looked around awkwardly when she held his chin and then rubbed at the inside of his cheek. 

You crossed your arms, “everything the man has to do is easier with this stuff, isn’t it?”

Jeff laughed at that, shrugged a bit before the nurse let go of Harry’s face. He moved his tongue around a bit, smacking his lips together as if the swab had a bad taste.

It was awkward, the whole thing. Apparently Dave had decided that Jeff should chaperone, watch you get poked and prodded to ensure that the results were accurate. Nothing had changed in Harry’s demeanor, and if you took his words at face value, he trusted you. Believed you. So why, of all people, was Jeff not?

Pam--that’s what the nametag on her scrubs said--set the swab in a tube. “So we’ll send this off now and the results will be mailed to the address you listed in 5-10 business days.”

“It’s going to Dave’s office,” Jeff informed the two of you. “He’ll call you both with the results.”

You grabbed your purse and you were all on your way to the parking lot to find your separate cars in the warm sun. You wanted to ask them if they really thought you were lying, ask if you were allowed to say I told you so when the results came back. Glenne promised it was just a legal requirement. Nothing to do with you, she said. They’d make anyone do it. 

“I’m supposed to meet Glenne for lunch,” Jeff said, a hand over his eyes when he turned around. “If you guys want to join.”

You looked over at Harry, were they your friends or his? If you’d been worried about people having to choose sides, now was the moment it came to fruition. Harry stood in the parking lot, sunglasses on his face when he seemed to wait for your response. Could you both go? 

“Oh--I don’t--you can go, Harry. I should go home anyway. Lexi and I said we’d clean today.”

“I think Lexi’s coming,” Jeff pulled his phone out of his pocket to check a text. “Yeah--Glenne said we’re meeting at Fin’s for brunch.”

“You can ride with me, Y/N,” Harry stepped forward now, still waiting for you to make a call. Hesitation, a nervousness in your stomach about what Jeff thought of it all. Would he allow you to go in the same car? Or was that somehow against something you’d signed? 

But the nervousness felt like nausea and the nausea sometimes felt like hunger. So you went.

Not because your apartment wasn’t a mess, but mostly because you knew Lexi’d give you shit if you bailed. You promised yourself you’d give her shit for roping you into a group outing. She knew what she was doing. When she agreed to tag along she knew she’d signed you up for it, too. 

“If she’s not then I’m not,” Harry smiled up at the waiter, shut his menu in front of him before smiling over at you.

“You can get a mimosa,” you rolled your eyes in response. Lexi’s manicured hands clapped together when Glenne ordered a pitcher for the table.

“M’fine, water’s fine.”

The waiter disappeared and you ignored the smirk on Lexi’s face. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he turned to you again, voice quieter as if the rest of the table wasn’t listening. “I can definitely go nine months.”

“Without alcohol? Yeah, right,” Glenne laughed. “You’ll make it two weeks before you want a glass of Merlot.”

“I’ll be fine,” he scoffed, sunglasses still on his face beneath the terraced patio. “I don’t even like Merlot.”

Glenne made a face and Jeff leaned forward. “You really think you can go nine months without drinking?”

Harry set his elbows on the table, narrowed his eyes. “Care to make it interesting?”

“Place your bets, everyone,” Glenne let out a laugh and reached for the water that had already been delivered. 

“Two weeks,” you said quickly. Another shocked look from Harry when turned to see you. 

“Two weeks?! You think I’m spineless, don’t you?”

“I watched you house two glasses of wine the other night after dinner.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows at that--Glenne seemed to give Lexi a look. You tried to backtrack, suddenly worried that maybe they weren’t supposed to know you and Harry had spent some time together outside of meetings and doctors appointments. 

“Whatever, how long do you think you can go?” You pushed the attention back to Harry, he shifted in his seat beside you.

“Nine months,” He nodded. “I think I can do it.”

“I give you two months,” Jeff sighed. “Tops.”

“I vote eight months,” Lexi said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “I think your downfall will be Christmas and New Years.”

“That counts as nine months if it’s New Years,” Harry said. “She’s due in January!”

“I vote halfway. Four or five months,” Glenne leaned back and watched him. 

You sipped at your water, a bit resentful about all of it. Here they were, all talking as if everything was normal. As if Harry’s lawyer hadn’t painted you to be a liar. As if the problem here was your negligence or greed, not the expired condoms in Harry’s bedside table. As if you didn’t feel out of place at a fancy restaurant in North Hollywood, likely the only person at the table who couldn’t afford an early retirement. 

Harry het a land rest on your knee beneath the table. “I’ll do my best, and whoever’s closest, I’ll buy you a nice dinner.”

“That’s all?” Jeff teased. “No yacht or car?”

“I’ll take you to Nobu,” he raised his eyebrows, giving Jeff a look he apparently couldn’t resist. 

“So I have a question, then,” Glenne changed the subject, her voice quieter than it was before. “Have you thought about any names?”

“No,” you said quickly, hands folded in your lap. Harry fumbled with his napkin but watched as you spoke. “We don’t even--we don’t have the results yet.” You motioned back to the street--back towards the chair and the tiny room with fluorescent lights--as if you couldn’t do any sort of planning until it was settled. The parentage, as Dave had said. 

Glenne nodded, lips pursed in a line. She knew where you stood with it--she thought it was just as shitty as unfair as you did, but she was stuck in the middle. “Sweetie--we know you wouldn’t lie about it, it’s just--”

You looked at Jeff quickly, pulled your eyes back to Glenne. The waiter appeared with three glasses, placed them right in front of Lexi as if she’d drink all three. She rubbed her hands together when they were poured. 

Jeff shrugged and offered you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s shitty and awkward,” he said. “But just think about what a shit show it could be if we didn’t test it. I mean--it’s you, I get that. You’re not just some random person or something, but--we’d be stupid to not just make sure.”

“I know,” you said. “I get it.”

“Once the results are back next week Dave will lighten up,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Harry was quiet, watched as Lexi handed the last mimosa over to Jeff. After a second, he shrugged. “I like Vienna.”

You turned to look at him quickly. “Vienna? As a name?”

He nodded.

“No,” you said. “I don’t like it.”

“Or Jane. Simple, pretty.”

Lexi looked at him like he had three heads. “You already decided it’ll be a girl?”

He nodded, shifted to look at you as if he couldn’t be any more serious. “She knows I’m right.”

“No I don’t,” you laughed. “He’s crazy. If you’re worried about one of us being a nut job, it’s him,” you looked directly at Jeff. 

Harry held up his glass of water, pushed it towards the center of the table. Glenne raised her mimosa, she laughed when Lexi took a gulp before clinking hers into the circle. 

“Here’s to me being a nut job, then,” Harry laughed. “Even though I’m right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I’m posting off schedule right now cause I know folks are home and looking for some positivity. So if you’ve got nothing else to do, read some fanfic!! Stay the fuck home, y’all. I’m a nurse. I mean it. 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat  @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey  @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles  @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo 

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Saturday, 16:43

Song: Ruel - Dazed & Confused

Jens peeks another look at his phone, but no notifications appear over the call screen. He picks the phone up and drags the top bar down, just in case there’s one he missed, but his notifications are empty.

“Jens!”

He whips his head up to look at the screen to find that he’s about to be shot down, and he drops his phone in favour of smashing the buttons on his control. He can hear Robbe’s protests through the phone and knows, seconds before he wipes out, that he’s too late. Robbe sighs only a second later, and Jens can hear the clatter of him tossing the control away as Jens flops back on his bed. He rubs a hand over his face and manages to mumble out, “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere. Just didn’t notice in time.”

“Jens. I called your name like four times before you reacted.”

Jens muffles a groan behind his hands then grabs for his phone, dropping it closer to his head. Robbe stays quiet, and Jens tries to figure out what to tell him. There is no truth that seems better than the other.

“What’s up?” Robbe prods gently, lightly, when Jens is taking too long to answer.

He tucks his shoulders up in a shrug, even though Robbe can’t see him. “Nothing. I was just distracted.”

“By?”

Jens huffs. He licks his lips as he stares at the ceiling, thinking of how he should explain when he’s not even sure himself. But he supposes it’s just Robbe. Robbe won’t judge him. “I haven’t heard from Lucas.”

There’s a moment of silence, in which Jens feels a little judged.

“Were you expecting to?” Robbe eventually asks, sounding more confused than anything.

Jens heaves a sigh. “Kind of? I’d at least like to know that he’s alive.”

Robbe gives a small laugh. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“He’s gone home for the weekend.”

“Oh. Really?”

Jens hums.

“But wasn’t he at the party with you?”

“Yeah but that’s also the thing. He left that without even saying goodbye.”

The silence this time is less nerve-wracking, because Jens knows that Robbe is simply thinking. It makes him feel less like he’s over-exaggerating. If Robbe thinks it’s weird, too, then he isn’t overreacting.

“When did he tell you he was going home then?”

Jens grabs his phone and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He shifts until he can flop back against the pillows, setting his phone on his stomach. “I caught up to him after school to tell him about the party and he told me he couldn’t go because he was going home. And I convinced him to just stick around and go for an hour, and he said he would if I hung out with him ‘til then. And he was super chill the whole evening. And then at the party I went to get us drinks, and I came back just to have Moyo tell me he left in a rush with no explanation.”

Robbe is quiet for another moment. Then he says, “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe he got a message or something? Or forgot he had to do something else before he left? I mean, that must have been a really late train you were making him get, Jens.”

“I wasn’t making him stay,” Jens mumbles. Although, looking back, he’d worried the same thing. The first thought he had, when Moyo told him that Lucas had left, was that he had scared him off. Without even thinking about why at the time, the fear had instantly sunk in and settled in the pit of Jens’s stomach, and then he’d begun picking it apart.

He’d been very insistent that Lucas stay, and that he should go to the party with him. He hadn’t even bothered to come up with any excuses. He’d just poked and prodded because he wanted Lucas there. That thought was eased by the argument that Lucas had given in easily enough and simply requested more time with Jens.

But he hadn’t asked Jens to take him to his favourite fast food place and make him a part of his beloved tradition. He hadn’t asked Jens to guide him through the streets with quite so much physical assistance. He hadn’t asked Jens to dance with him like that.

Jens has been very pleased, for the past week, to have a friend that feels like his. He’s used that as an excuse for every time he would seek Lucas out, every time he made sure Lucas was next to him, every time he sent a text only hours after seeing him in person. He was excited to have someone new that he got along with, someone who wasn’t obsessed with their relationship or too busy with their own life to pay him any attention.

He’s just beginning to think that maybe he’s been a little too excited, and it’s led him to push the boundaries with Lucas a little beyond what would be considered friendly.

Which is a thought that opens up a whole world of questions Jens doesn’t want to answer.

“I would understand that,” Jens continues quietly, when Robbe says nothing to rationalise his complaints. “It’s that I messaged him after to say I hope he has a good weekend and he hasn’t even read it. What if he like, got attacked on the way there or something?” Jens almost expects his friend to laugh this specific worry off, but Robbe stays quiet. It only makes the anxiety in his stomach kick up into something a little more frantic. He hadn’t even been considering that as the biggest possibility—thinking more along the lines of having freaked Lucas out and scared him off. He’s worrying now that it may have been a selfish thought and he should have genuinely been more worried.

“Do you text him often then? And he usually replies quickly?”

Jens is almost embarrassed to answer, but Robbe’s tone is merely curious and Lucas does message him often and quickly. That is never one-sided. None of their interactions have felt one-sided. “Yeah, instantly almost, most of the time.”

“Okay, so I agree that it’s strange,” Robbe says softly. “But these are different circumstances. He was probably in a rush last night, and then over-eager to see his friends this morning. Maybe he hasn’t even checked his DMs.”

“Yeah,” Jens mumbles. “Maybe.”

“Did you check to see when he was active last?”

“He hasn’t been active since yesterday. Isn’t it weird that he hasn’t posted anything either? Or that his friends haven’t?”

“You’ve already checked his friends too, then,” Robbe says, and now he sounds almost amused.

Jens pulls a breath in through his nose before letting it out on a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m overthinking it, aren’t I?”

Robbe hums. Jens can hear the smile in it. “Maybe a little bit. Which is weird for you, because you usually don’t think at all.”

“Ha, ha,” Jens replies dryly.

Robbe snorts. “It’s nice, though. That you’ve taken him in. He’s lucky to have been picked up by you.”

Jens doesn’t know about that, but his chest warms all the same. “So you think he’s okay?”

“I do. I think you would know if he wasn’t. You could text him again, just to see, but he’s supposed to be back tomorrow right? Maybe don’t worry about it until then.”

Jens sighs again. It’s harder than it probably should be, to do what Robbe says. To stop worrying. It is odd. He usually doesn’t think this much.

But there’s the worry that Lucas really is lying hurt and half-dead in an alley somewhere, or there’s the worry that Jens had messed things up. He’s currently not a big fan of either option, and he’d really been hoping that Robbe would have provided another.

He supposes he has. Jens feels like he would know, if something had happened to Lucas, would feel it deep down in his gut where all his natural instincts lie. The worry would be more prominent than this. This is an ache in his chest and a niggle in the back of his brain telling him that something is wrong, spurred on by his own insecurities.

Lucas probably is off having fun. With his friends. His real friends, back home, who know about his mother and his birthday and his favourite things that Jens is still in the dark about. He probably just isn’t even thinking about Jens at all.

“You’re right,” he eventually tells Robbe. “He’s a big boy. Doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m always right,” Robbe teases back. “And I do have more experience with complicated boys.”

“Do you think Lucas is complicated?”

“Everyone is complicated, Jens. Do you want to play another round?”

Jens considers, and begins to hum in agreement only for someone to knock on his door and then carefully push it open. He raises his brows as Lotte pokes her head in, with a wide, innocent smile on her face.

“Mama wants you in the kitchen.”

“Now?”

Robbe huffs in quiet amusement at the complaint in his voice as Lotte just nods.

Jens sighs. “Fine. Go tell her I’ll be there in a sec.”

Lotte gives a chipper nod and skips back down the hall, leaving his door open behind her. He rolls his eyes and picks up his phone, turning off the speakerphone and bringing the device to his ear. “Sorry, duty calls. Maybe later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robbe says easily.

“You don’t have any plans with Sander?”

“He can just come play, too.”

“I’m not sure I want to be involved in those games,” Jens teases.

Robbe snorts, and Jens can picture him shaking his head. “Goodbye, Jens. Let me know if you hear from Lucas, yeah?”

“Yep,” Jens promises as he finally climbs off the bed, making his way to his door and then the top of the stairs as he adds a, “Bye,” and Robbe hangs up.

He pockets his phone and takes a steadying breath in and out through his nose as he trots down the stairs. He rounds the door into the kitchen with his hand on the frame and a complaint already on his lips. “What did you wa—“

He stops in his tracks in the doorway when he doesn’t find his mother in the room. Instead it’s a woman of a smaller stature and darker hair with her back turned to him, wearing jeans and a cropped jumper he hopes to <i>never</i> see on his mother. She whirls around at the sound of his voice and beams.

“Lies?”

“Hey.” His sister wiggles her brows at him as her smile brightens even further. When he continues to stand there, staring, she holds her arms out towards him and wiggles her fingers instead, brows raised. “Since when do you have nothing to say?”

Jens barrels into her and wraps her up in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off her feet. She laughs and slings her arms around his shoulders to hold herself up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling fondly at his hair.

“Hi,” Jens breathes. He sets her back down but doesn’t let go, ducking his head down to rest on her shoulder instead. “What are you doing here?”

She pulls back and tucks her hands into her pockets once Jens lets go. “Reading week.”

Jens furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side. “Isn’t that next week?”

“No, midterm is next week. This is like a study week organised by my lecturers.”

“But...you haven’t even been back that long.”

Lies rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. “Are you happy to see me or not?” she prods.

Jens bats her hand away with a grin. He’s tempted to hug her again. It’s weird, maybe, that he is so happy to see his older sister, but he has never really gotten used to her being away. With only a two year age gap between them, Lies had grown up alongside him without appearing miles ahead. They’ve always been close, and Jens is getting used to missing her when she leaves and counting the days until she comes home. She has always made the home environment feel better to Jens. She has, oddly enough, always been on his team—and vice versa. He isn’t alone when Lies is home.

Which is why she usually tells him when she’s coming back.

He frowns just as quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lies deflates, sighing as she performs the same drawn-out shrug as Jens. “I don’t know, college life is stressful, and I didn’t even realise I hadn’t mentioned it to you. I thought you knew. And then Mom was surprised when I mentioned it last week and I realised. Then I thought it would be a nice surprise, but…”

“It is,” Jens argues quickly. “It’s a fucking great surprise. I missed you.”

“But I only just went back,” she mocks, teasing him. He draws her in with an arm around her neck and musses her hair, earning a shriek followed by a shout of protest and a jab to the stomach. Jens’s gasp turns quickly into a laugh and he changes the hold to another short hug, smiling when Lies gives in and hugs him back. “I bet I still have more interesting stories to catch you up on than you do with me.”

“Nope,” Jens denies happily. “Not this time. I have a whole new person to tell you about.”

Lies immediately leans back and snaps her head up to look at him, eyes wide. “You got a new girlfriend?”

“No,” Jens laughs.

She squints. “Boyfriend?”

He shoves her away with another laugh, shaking his head and ignoring the stutter of his heart. He can think about all the things that are confusing him later, when Lies isn’t carefully examining him. “Friend. Lucas. He just moved from Antwerp like a week ago.”

“And you’ve already managed to corrupt him?” Lies smiles.

Jens tilts his head side to side, smiling with her. “I’ve certainly started.”

[annab-nana]

Flowers Of Forgiveness - Colby Brock

You and Colby had known each other for five years, dated for two, and you’d think he would remember your birthday, right? Wrong and with birthdays being such a big deal to you, it hurt like hell. He messed up big time and it might be the last straw before your relationship crumbles unless he can manage to save it.

Requested by an amazing anon 💙

Warnings: some curse words; mentions of alcoholic parents

Word Count: 2.1k+

--------------------------------------------------

You look around the table to see who all is there. Tara is to your right, then it's Jake, Kevin, Reggie, Cassie, Devyn, Xepher, Griffin, Sam, Katrina, Corey, Mike, Aryia, and then there was an empty seat to the left of you. Colby's seat. You don't know why he isn't here yet. He couldn't have forgotten, could he? No, because last week he told you he cleared up his schedule for your birthday. So, where the hell was he?

"Excuse me for a second, guys. I am going to call Colby really quick to see where he is," You say as you stand up and walk out the front door of the restaurant.

"Hey babe!" you hear his chipper greeting flow out of the phone.

"Hey Colbs! Where are you?" you question. He must have got in some bad traffic and is just being held up a bit.

"I'm at my apartment, catching up on some Unus Annus videos." Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. He forgot your birthday. You had originally thought he was just being annoying or was trying to hide a surprise or something when he didn’t text you about it and avoided saying 'happy birthday' all day long. But he wasn't. He had forgotten it completely.

"Oh." The only response that came to mind spills out of your mouth.

"Yeah, what are you up to, babe?" He asks so nonchalantly.

"Um, I'm just out with the girls and wanted to check up on you. But I will let you get back to your videos," you say as tears brim your eyes. Your boyfriend of two years forgot your birthday.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later." You blink the tears that threaten to spill over away.

"Yeah, I might swing by your place before I go home. Talk to you later. Bye." Ending the call, you take a deep breath to calm yourself before heading back in.

"Okay, so Colby is just running late. He got caught up with some work stuff, but he'll be here soon," you lie as you sit down. You don't want to make the dinner awkward by saying that Colby forgot. You just want to enjoy the last bit of your birthday with the people who actually care enough about you to remember your birthday. You all order your food and talk and have a good time.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Y/n, wanna come with?" Tara asks. You nod before standing with her and following her to the restroom.

"Colby isn't coming, is he?" She asks as soon as the door shuts.

"No," you tell her the truth as the tears come back. "We've been together for two years. Friends for three before that and he just forgets. He has never forgotten before and he knows how much it hurts me when someone close and important to me does. My parents didn’t care enough to celebrate my birthday when I was younger which is fine, but Colby told me he would never do that to me. But here we are. He forgot."

"Oh y/n," Tara whispers as she pulls you into her tiny frame. "I am sure there is some reason for this, and you know better than I do that he is an idiot most of the time."

"Yeah," you laugh before going to the mirror to make sure that the few tears that did manage to escape did not mess up anything.

"I lied so that I wouldn't make anything awkward," you inform her as the two of you head back to the table and she nods understandingly. When y’all get back, the food had arrived, so you all eat. You thank everyone for coming as you leave the restaurant.

"Happy birthday y/n. I hate that Colby couldn't make it," Aryia tells you as he pulls you in for a goodbye hug.

"Yeah, traffic got the better of him, but we'll be doing something tomorrow," you lie again as you pull away from the embrace. After receiving many hugs and happy birthdays, you get in your car to go to Colby's.

Knocking his door, the anger and sadness in you boil. He swings the door open and lays his eyes on you, noticing how angry and upset you are.

"What happened babe?" He says as he opens the door wider to let you in. You walk in and turn to face him.

"What do you think happened?" you question him. His face drains of color as he thinks back on everything he has done to figure out what has set you off.

"Sweetie, I really don't know. Just tell me what I did," he pleads, completely oblivious to what was wrong.

"Did you forget something?" Again, he goes through everything he can think of and is stumped.

"I don't think so. I-"

"You aren't forgetting anything special. Like a holiday or someone's birthday..." you trail off, trying to get it through his thick skull.

"No, your birthday is tomorrow, and Kevin's is next week-"

"Oh sorry. I didn't realize my birthday was tomorrow. I thought it was on June 17th like it always has been for the past twenty or so years, but I must be mistaken," you sarcastically spit out. At this point, you were fuming.

"No, your birthday is on Thursday which is tomorrow," he retorts as you roll your eyes.

"Where is your phone? Have you been on that thing at all today? Normally your eyes are glued to it," you ask him. You can tell he is getting angrier with you, but at this point, you don't seem to care.

"No, I was taking a day away from my phone. I only answered important calls or texts but that was it," he informs you as he walks to where his phone was in his room.

"Tell me what today's date is, Colby."

"It's June 16th, I know it is because..." His voice fades out. He comes out of his room with his eyes on his phone.  "It's the 17th," he states bluntly before looking up to meet your sad and angry eyes.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry. I-"

"No Colby. You know how much birthdays mean to me. You know that. Do you know how embarrassing it was tonight when I was at dinner with all of our friends and the person who means the absolute most to me doesn't show? I hated being there and I couldn't even enjoy it because you weren't there."

"Did you tell them I forgot?" He asks me as he sits down on the couch, all ashamed.

"No, I didn't. Instead, I lied to all of them, but it was not to protect you and your feelings. It was for them so that they didn't have to feel awkward or feel bad for the girl that they were supposed to be celebrating. I told them you were caught up with work stuff and then got caught in traffic and couldn't make it. But Tara still figured it out. She was right. You are a damn idiot."

"No, I'm not!" He fights back as he rises to his feet in anger.

"Yes, you are," you laugh at him. "My parents even told me happy birthday this year Colby. They haven't done that since I was five. I guess they weren't drunk off their asses enough to forget it this morning." You take a breath before continuing.

"You must've not checked the group chat. They were all going off about my birthday and the dinner tonight. And you weren't on Twitter or Instagram either because then you would have seen your fans wishing me a happy birthday as well. People who don't even fucking know me knew my birthday was today."

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."

"There's nothing you can do. You can't replace the feeling I have of not feeling good enough. You of all people know that when my parents forgot my sixth birthday, I was crushed. Then they forgot year after year after year. Then I met you and all of your amazing friends and you guys have made me feel so special and loved, especially on my birthday. You know that on anyone else's birthday, I make sure that they feel so loved and cared about because I know what it feels like to not be."

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to forget. It just happened."

"Wow Colby, that makes me feel so much better. You know what? I am sorry. I probably sound like such a diva for getting upset about this, so I'm gonna go-"

"No y/n, please don't go."

"I'm going to leave and go back home. Probably cry myself to sleep? I don't know. We'll see." You place your hand on the doorknob.

"I've noticed how you never miss a beat when it comes to work stuff. But this isn't the first time you've forgotten something with me. It's just the first time it was something important. Get your priorities straight Colby if you want to keep me around." And with that, you leave his apartment, get in your car, and head home.

After walking in, you do exactly what you didn't want and start crying. You slip out of the clothes you were wearing and wipe off all your makeup. Throwing your hair into a messy bun, you walk to your phone to see the many messages and missed calls from Colby which you choose to ignore. The constant buzzing gets on your nerves so much that you turn the damn thing completely off before falling asleep.

…

"Oh, I'm so sorry, y/n," Devyn says as she walks into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. She had texted you last night when you had your phone turned off because of Colby and was asking if you were okay. She knew you were lying about the work and traffic stuff too. You called her this morning and asked her to come over because you were in need of some girl time, especially with your Dev, and she happily obliged. You told her all about it, providing the details of your past and all, and then you two decided a movie would make you feel better, specifically your favorite Moana.

"Yeah it sucks, but I'm going to give him a few days. I'll still like text him and stuff. I just don't want to see him for a bit," you tell her as the movie begins. The two of you sit back and enjoy the movie and popcorn until a knock at the door interrupts you.

"I'll get it," you huff as you make your way to the door before looking through the peephole to see the last person you wanted to at the moment.

"Colby," you mouth to Devyn. She nods, pausing the movie and skipping into your room. You open the door just enough for him to see you but that's it.

"Hey," you speak softly. You know you probably look like shit, but you honestly do not care. He should see how he made you feel.

"Hey, umm, y/n, I am really sorry and I-" you couldn't help but notice him steadily trying to peek behind you. Does he actually think you have some guy over or something? Is he really that jealous and think that low of you?

"Forgetful and jealous? Man, you really have changed Colby."

"No, I'm... never mind. I am here to apologize. I was a shitty boyfriend yesterday. I still am one today and I'll probably never be the best boyfriend in the world, but I will continue to try to be the best I can be for you. I know this isn't much at all, but it is something. It shows I pay attention to some details," he says as he pulls a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back.

After getting a better look at them, you notice that they are daffodils, your grandmother's favorite flower which became your favorite flower. You might have mentioned that once, maybe twice, but it was a long time ago. The fact that he remembered it warmed your heart. You smiled at him before taking the flowers from his grasp.

"You aren't completely off the hook, but I forgive you. Come here," you say as you pull the blue-eyed boy into your arms, wrapping them around his neck. His arms snake around your waist and lift you off the ground slightly.

"So, I haven't lost you yet?" He questions in your ear and you giggle into his before he sets you down. You bring the hand that wasn’t holding flowers to cup his face.

"Nope, but I suggest you don't forget my birthday again," you whisper as you place a small kiss on his nose.

"I won't. I promise. Your birthday will forever be engrained in here," he tells you as he taps on the side of his head.

"Oh yeah, what day is it?"

"June 23rd?" He jokes and you roll your eyes.

"That's Kevin's birthday sweetheart."

[evilqueensandlesbianvampires]

2020 Fic Author Questions

Tagged by: @singofsolace and @timelady-queenofhell​ thank you! You’re both true gems and this is just the kick I need while I get back to writing again!

Name: hypothetical_chainsaw

Fandom(s): Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (CAOS), Downton Abbey, True Blood

Where you post: AO3

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) this year:

If on a Winter's Night a High Preistess

The newly crowned Queen of Hell and her High Priestess have run out of viable locales for their rendezvous where they won't be disturbed by one of the Spellmans, a demon on the warpath, or a student desperate for a homework extension. The alley behind Greendale Town Hall will suffice, right?

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) overall: 

Same as above - y’all really love a little alley sex, huh?

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) this year:

Tales of a Midwife

A collection of oneshots that tell stories of the Spellman sisters as midwives, as told by timelady_queenofhell & hypothetical_chainsaw.

Inspired by Call The Midwife but set in the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina universe. Each chapter will be like an episode, a standalone, but all set in the same world. Be prepared for drama, emotions, heartache and fluff.

Written alongside the lovely @timelady-queenofhell 💜

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) overall:

Still Tales of a Midwife; I’d been a one shot writer until this year when I’ve finally been giving a few multi-chapters a go.

Favourite story you’ve written so far:

Oleander Yolling

This fic is my baby and is pure self indulgence on my part. It’s the first time I’d written from Hilda’s POV and if I had more stories that could be told through her eyes I would never write from another perspective again. (That’s a barefaced lie, I adore writing Zelda’s unspoken hope being crushed in the most angst-filled manner to ever give up writing her POV.) It let me research for days, which is my true weakness, and carries on my endless Zarie love. I’m currently working on the final chapter and I’m so excited for people to finally be able to read the scene that made me write this in the first place!

The mortuary has been quiet in the months since they defeated the pagans and Marie became a permanent resident. There have been no attempts on their lives, from external sources or those closer to home, and Hilda's eternally grateful. Now their peace is threatened, Zelda and Marie's relationship is met with a potentially difficult conversation and Hilda's left with the unnerving feeling that she'll be reacquainting herself with the Cain pit sooner than she'd hoped.

Fic you were nervous to post:

Water in a Whiskey Glass

Honestly everything about this one made me nervous. While I’m a-okay with writing dark and twisty this felt more delicate and far more in need of care and respect. Add to that that this isn’t my ship, I didn’t want to write it from a ship perspective, I wasn’t sure how it would be received, and the fact that I’m so much more comfortable writing women and pressing ‘post’ had me terrified. 

80 years before canon, a Spellman/Blackwood alliance would solidify their place at the head of two of the coven's most powerful families. Tomorrow would bring it about, tomorrow she would have Hilda confirm it, and tomorrow she would start the journey to most powerful witch the Church of Night had seen in centuries. 

How do you choose titles?:

I hate choosing titles! I got around it for a while by writing a series that featured what I saw as key musical movements of Zelda’s life (if you’re telling me dramatic polyglot, Miss Zelda Spellman, wouldn’t have listened to a bit of Pucchini or 18th century murder ballads then we’ll have to agree to disagree) but if there’s no music in it then I’ll pick a line that seems vaguely apt seconds before posting.

Do you outline?:

Gods no! I’ll write a two/three line summary, tops and then I’m completely relying on Zelda to take the reigns and do whatever the fuck she wants.

Complete: 

13

In-Progress: 

3 - Oleander Yolling, Tales of a Midwife, An Agreeable Match 

Coming soon/not yet started:

This is a dangerous question...I currently have 18 WIPs but the ones that will likely be coming soonest are a Zelda (and Ambrose) centric Christmas/Midwinter Solstice piece and a festive instalment of Tales of a Midwife

Prompts?:

Do challenges count? I’ve never taken a prompt before but honestly would love to! I’m open to Zarie, Zelda-centric and Hilda-centric prompts and would love you forever if you sent one!

Upcoming work you’re most excited about:

The Wedding Board (working title) which is a Spellman sister’s fic in which Hilda tries to balance her excitement at planning hers and Dr Cee’s wedding with being mindful of Zelda’s less than stellar wedding having been only a few months prior.

Tagging: Everyone was probably tagged an eternity ago but if you’re looking for an excuse to do this consider this it! (and please tag me so I can be nosy!!)

[kiliinstinct]

Hand of Sorrow - Reverse Bang Event

This is my Third and Final submission for the @ftguildevents Reverse Bang! (You can find the first two over on @rougearts ).  This story was written for the Erzajane art piece done by @pan-princess-levy  .  I’ve never written for Erzajane before, but this lovely piece of art pushed all my buttons for a story. (I’ve always been a sucker for fantasy au’s after all!)  You can find the event art here!:  https://pan-princess-levy.tumblr.com/post/629906397135601664/and-here-is-the-second-one-not-going-to-lie

---

‘Your life is not your own. 

To defend, to battle, to guard: that is your purpose. 

Born without a name; your identity is what we make it. 

And by the oath you swore,

You will defend your charge until death takes you. 

Above all else…

Duty comes first..’

“No more excuses, Oracle.”  Mirajane flinched at the elder’s reproachful glare. His demand sliced through months of planning and silent hopes and a foul taste filled Mirajane’s mouth. She knew convincing the elder’s against tradition would be near impossible, but the slim chance she would succeed had filled her with determination to meet the day. 

Now - she held back a grimace- Mirajane wished she’d never left her chambers that morning.  With brows furrowed, she tried again, “Do the words of your oracle carry so little weight? I already proven that my lack of a spouse will cause no damage to the valley. Is my foresight not enough?”

The hidden valley held no true name, but was full of vast riches and wild forests. The small village housed within had kept a delicate balance between nature and humanity for centuries with rituals and traditions meant to curry favor with the Gods. Marriage once of age, was one such tradition for all men and women alike. In the past, it was an eventuality that hadn’t bothered Mirajane to consider, but presently the mere thought chipped away at her heart. 

She wasn’t ready. No, unwilling. Despite her gifts of prophecy and supposed connection with the unknown forces of the world, the elders refused to bend. One deserving of reverence and respect. Mirajane had grown through life accustomed to the people of her realm fearing and loving her simultaneously and yet somehow, she couldn’t break free of this one ritual. The answering grumble among the men she argued with was proof enough. Though her insinuation they lacked respect for her title caused an uncomfortable squirm among the men, it did little to change their minds. The eldest of the counsel, a tall, spindly man with a beard as long as he was tall, gazed at her in the way a parent does when scolding their child. 

“You should know better, White Oracle.” He admonished her, using her full title. “Your words and insights are always taken seriously, but it does not exempt you from the law. Your life defender and companion will be chosen tomorrow, whether you like it or not. I suggest you check in with your suitors to better make your choice. Arguing with us is only a waste of time.”

“.... I see.” Mirajane looked to her feet, teeth gnawing against her lip while her pale fingers trembled against the silk of her dress. It took every ounce of willpower to keep her ire contained. I don’t want any of them. She thought, eyes clenched shut as the sting of tears burned them.  I want who I already have!

That. Was a dangerous thought. One she could never say out loud. Not without intense punishment towards herself and the very woman that flashed through her mind. No, no, she couldn’t dare say that. She couldn’t risk endangering either of them with the truth. 

 She steeled herself, lifting her gaze to face the eleven elders.  “I see your point, Gran Doma. This clearly was a waste of my time.”  She said coolly and turned toward the exit. A rising murmur followed, but The White Oracle, Mirajane, saw no reason to grace them with a respectful parting. 

If she was to be frustrated, then they could handle a little disrespect. She had done everything she could, from reading tea leaves to allowing a magic seer to bring her prophetic dreams to the minds of all members, proving her claims. An oracle was tied to Nature, they did not need marriage to continue that careful balance held between them and the Gods for all these years.  Her dreams were always accurate, never wrong. Previous white oracles could only dream to boast of such accuracy, and yet the old men were so bound by tradition, that all amount of proof meant nothing to do to them. Anger simmered just beneath her skin. And when the eyes and ears of the elders could no longer witness any misconduct, she let out a frustrated scream that echoed off the walls.

“If I wasn’t already here,” A voice came from the side, hidden behind one of the many marble pillars that circled the temple, “that scream would have convinced me you were being attacked.”

Mirajane clamped her mouth shut, heat fanning across her face in an instant. Looking towards the column, she sighed. “If you weren’t already here,” She started, a tired smile slowly curling her lips once her surprise wore off, “you’d be slacking on the job.”

Huffing, the owner of the voice stepped out. She stood decked in armor, standing tall as she frowned at Mirajane. The stern expression didn’t meet her eyes, however, and Mirajane caught the amusement with ease. Though Erza did her best to appear aloof, her careful facade held rare cracks that were unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Mirajane was more than trained.  For years, Erza had served as Mirajane’s silent protector, her scarlet hair gleaming from the shadows the only hint of her presence, seconds before she would disappear from sight.

It was law and tradition for an oracle to be given a guard since birth. One who would stay by their side until coming of age: a silent protector from the shadows. Mirajane reveled at the knowledge she and Erza had broken that unspoken rule for most of her adolescent years.  After all, it was near impossible to stay hidden from an Oracle’s sight. 

“Tch, are you saying you doubt my conviction?” Erza asked, gripping the pommel of her sword from habit. Her gaze turned icy, but her voice cracked from silent laughter. “As much as I can afford taking breaks, you know I would never slack in my duty. Don’t insult me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mirajane simpered, giggling behind her hand as she grinned devilishly. The sight of her secret friend helped ease her frustrations, though they were still close to the inner chambers. Nodding towards the hallway, Erza fell into step beside her from a distance and began a hasty trek towards Mirajane’s chambers. 

The further from the Elder’s rooms, the better. They couldn’t risk Erza being seen. 

“So,” Mirajane began again as their steps echoed in sync of the other, “Can you afford to slack off because I’m not in danger or,” And her eyes gleamed with a scintillating mischief as she added quietly, “is it because it would be foolish of anyone to assume they can get the drop on me?”

Erza snorted, “You’re the oracle. Figure it out yourself.”

“That’s no fun,” Mirajane pouted, disappointed at Erza’s obvious refusal to take the bait, “I wanted to hear you compliment me.”

“Don’t fish for it then.” 

“So rude! I should have you sent away.”

This broke Erza’s fast clip, stumbling over her own feet as she looked incredulously towards her charge. “Y-you would rat me out for not paying you false endearments?!” She had to resist slapping Erza’s shoulder as her reaction offended Mirajane. “After all these years, you’d think that low of me? You really are rude. I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day!”

This mollified Erza’s concern as sheepish guilt filtered across her face. “Sorry. I didn’t think things through.” “Hmph.” Mirajane gave no further reply, following through with her threat. Or, at least, she attempted it. 

As silence fell between them, the trek from the counsel chambers to Mirajane’s private quarters felt as if it took longer to reach. Guards made the rounds from room to room, inspected the gardens full of large trees, thick vines and giant blossoms. Each new approach sent Erza slipping back to the shadows, carefully unseen. It was a special skill that few could learn. They were destined to protect Oracles and seers like silent shadows. To be caught conversing with their charge, was to be stripped of their title and thrown out of the valley: a dishonor none wanted to face. Though she had teased it, Mirajane never considered revealing Erza’s misdeeds to the counsel or anyone else. She could never do that to the woman that became her closest confidant. 

It was her own fault that Erza was pulled from the shadows, after all. To give her away would be unfair. Admittedly, Mirajane hadn’t considered the repercussions of calling Erza out in the darkness of night, begging for a friendly face to speak with her, but she never regretted the choice either.  These thoughts and memories swirled in her mind and Mirajane cast her gaze back to Erza when she returned from her hidden vigil once again to open the first set of doors to Mirajane’s chamber.  Trickling water became their background noise as the room opened to a circular outcropping, surrounded by fountains. Her room was opulent, full of white marble, budding moonflowers and a skylight over her cushioned bed.  She stopped at the entrance, neither stepping in or staying out of it.

This was her life and by tomorrow evening, she would share it with another. 

“... are you all right?” Erza’s query echoed in Mirajane’s ears, but she didn’t respond, staring into the large space with an ever growing sickness in the pit of her stomach. 

A new guardian… who would also become her life partner… someone to share her bed and the rest of her life. Mirajane’s gaze turned to Erza and her resolve to ‘not speak’ crumbled. 

“They wouldn’t listen.” She said hollowly, voice cracking as her eyes stung with tears. “After giving up my life to serve as the Oracle, they didn’t care at all what I had to say. It… it didn’t matter… none of it did.”

She didn’t want to share her life with the group of suitors currently basking in the gardens and enjoying the comforts of the temple. She didn’t know them. They were strangers. The only one who knew her, understood her and filled her lonely room with banter and smiles was…

How could I want anyone else… when I have Erza?

Mirajane’s mind and body were in turmoil. She stood frozen in the doorway and didn’t acknowledge when Erza pulled her into the room, hands rough and calloused, but gentle with their hold. She moved quickly to shut the doors, returning to Mirajane’s side to ease her into a chair, expression frozen. What was she thinking? Did she feel the same impending sickness that Mirajane did? These were questions she feared to ask, and refused to use her gifts to learn them. That would involve delving into Erza’s heart. A severe breach in trust and privacy at that. “There are a few upsides to the change.” Erza said quietly, kneeling down to look into Mirajane’s eyes. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and shook her head causing a curtain of silver hair to fall over her face. 

Mirajane’s heart stuttered when Erza brushed the hair from her face, gaze holding fast with her own. 

“One,” She continued, not waiting for Mirajane to prompt her, “The counsel will stop pressuring you to choose a lover.” Her fingers paused before she continued playing with the tendrils of hair that unruly stayed out of place. “Two…,” she pulled her hand away, “Your brother and sister will finally be allowed to live with you. You’ll have your family back.”

Mirajane’s heart clenched, smiling despite the tug-o-war she was suffering. The mere thought that her siblings could be with her again, separated after she’d become the White Oracle, was enough to ease the weight off her shoulders, but she wasn’t an Oracle for nothing and she felt an impending darkness with what came next. “And?” She urged Erza to continue, though she felt the third positive would not trump the second, “What’s the final one?”

“Third,” Erza said, voice growing cold as her demeanor turned to stone, “you won’t have me stalking your shadows anymore.”

Mirajane hated being right. 

Rocks fell into the pit of her stomach, weighing Mirajane down by the second. She felt as if she’d been punched and all the air in her lungs refused to return as she exhaled sharply. Erza’s words rang true, but the third was a hollow truth. A consequence more than anything. Mirajane’s eyes clouded, became blurry and she wondered what would happen if she allowed the soft mask she carefully constructed to fall from her face. Erza’s reaction was instant, eyes widening at the sight of Mirajane’s tear-filled ones. Sputtering, she stepped closer and reached to grasp Mirajane’s shoulder.  Her hand wavered inches away, hesitating to follow through. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, Erza - Mirajane sighed,- how you missed the point entirely. This was not the positive outlook she was looking for. “Is that what you really think?” She asked, tone miniscule compared to her Guard’s. “That I would be happy with you gone?”

“Well, I- “ Erza managed to look abashed, swallowing thickly while her gaze turned towards the outdoors, “You never asked for a protector in the shadows.” “No,” Mirajane agreed, closing the gap between them to take Erza’s hand between her own. The delicate touch made the other slightly flinch, but she held fast. “I didn’t ask for it. Which is why I began talking to you instead.”

Her guard looked conflicted. Stuck between a small smile and stern glare. Her fingers twitched over Mirajane’s, tempted to return the hold, but stayed still. “I shouldn’t have responded. If I’m ever caught, it will ruin the reputation of my order. Choosing your intended will protect us both from that consequence.” “Yes, of course…” Mirajane bit her lip, a multitude of feelings and actions boiled under her skin. She struggled with which to act on. Grasp tightening on Erza’s, she sighed and looked to the floor, mustering up her courage. “But I don’t think just any intended could replace you.”

Her pounded in her ears, heat flared over her face and she wondered if her words crossed the line. If Erza understood the hidden meaning and would react negatively. The silence between them buzzed louder than true sound and their entwined fingers twitched and fell away. Mirajane looked up, horror filling her as Erza stepped away. .

Erza’s face was red. Too red. As if she’d forgotten to breathe, but her eyes cast over with hidden emotion and her fingers clenched to small fists. A brief fluttering of hope settled in Mirajane’s heart. Had she got the message? Did she understand now? “Mira,” The shortened name rolled from Erza’s lips with ease, but her gaze flickered in all directions, refusing to lock on her, “This isn’t…. I’m not supposed to-”

Words stopped. Erza breathed deep and Mirajane’s hope fizzled to a mere ember. She knew that reaction. It was Erza’s way of calming herself. Bracing herself to make a decision that she felt was correct, even if it ultimately wasn’t what others wanted to hear. “Don’t get attached.” She said, stepping back to the door. “I told you that when we first spoke. I’m temporary, Mira, and you WILL replace me. That’s how it must be.” “- Erza, wait,” Mirajane interjected, tried to advance before the other could follow through with her decision, but Erza was faster. Exiting swiftly, she turned her back and spoke with a cold finality. “Enjoy your evening, White Oracle,” Erza said, her voice echoing as the door shut behind her, “tomorrow will be a happier time. I promise.”

The shut door’s echo beat in time with Mirajane’s heart and she answered. Her answer was a choked sob.

For being gifted with the ability to see into the future, Mirajane couldn’t handle the difficulty that was explaining her emotions to a Knight whose sole purpose was to stay true to duty.  Why can’t I foresee into my own future? It was a thought she had wondered many times before, but the wish increased with every passing day. Now, there was no time left to find the answer. 

That’s it then, she realized, sinking to the floor. Misery soaked through her as fast as her whirling emotions struck through her in a roaring storm. Erza has made her peace and we’ll never see each other again.

Unseen, standing feet away from the doors, Erza grit her teeth, fists clenched by her side as she heard the soft cries in her charge’s room. It was painful, doing what was best for the other. What was best for all parties involved. There was no question towards Mirajane’s intentions by the end of their conversation. Erza was no fool.  Their years of secret talks in the dark, emotional bonding and care, did not leave her an oblivious woman. “I’m sorry.” She muttered, knowing Mirajane would never hear it. It’s for the best I don’t give you hope for something that’s not guaranteed.” She’d considered her options for weeks, but this was her fate. This was law. Who was she to go against it? Flinching as another sob echoed through the door, Erza bit into her lip enough to bruise it.  Every ounce of willpower was pulled from the depths of her resolve to keep her from rushing back in. 

“To protect your future, I must damage your heart,” She muttered, regret oozing from every word as she forced herself to escape through the halls, “Please forgive me for my inability to save you from this pain.”

Words spoken to unhearing walls: empty. What point did they serve? Nothing. And it sickened Erza to realize she spoke more to ease her own mind than to truly apologize. Her armored fist slammed against the wall and she cursed. “I’m pathetic! What good are my words when they change nothing?!”

Something would happen Something would have to give.  And tomorrow would either be the start or the end of whatever bond lie between Oracle and Shadowed Knight. What could Erza do? What could either of them do? She continued on through the shadows of the marbled halls, certain Mirajane’s cries would haunt her sleep. 

Morning came too quick.

Mirajane refused to leave her chambers that evening. Through the night her rest was full of fitful dreams and racing thoughts. Her gift of foresight showed her many things.  Her family was happy and smiling. The elders pleased as they passed through the village with cheers from every onlooker. A good harvest and mild winter. Many things flashed through her mind in rapid succession until she thought her soul would burst. 

She didn’t want to rise with the sun. The tap on her door was an alarm of dread and she burrowed into her blankets, eyes swollen from tears and a pounding head. A childish hope that staying beneath the covers would protect her from time advancing clung to her, but she knew the maids would burst through to dress and clean her anyway. There was nothing that could stop the day from coming. 

In silence, Mirajane allowed them to lead her to the springs for her morning meditation. She followed listlessly to the baths, and tasted nothing during breakfast. Her voice carried no emotion when she picked out her clothes for her choice of intended protector. They all looked nice, but why should she care for intricate details when her choices of suitor meant nothing?

“My Lady, Oracle,” One of the newer maids questioned her as they left her wing to enter the great hall, “have we displeased you? You’re awfully quiet.”

Guild swelled in her throat like bile. “N-no. Don’t worry yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.” It was the first time Mirajane forced a smile since she woke, hoping to ease her caretaker’s concerns.  Her emotions were no fault to the ladies in waiting and she would not stand for them feeling inadequate in any way. The girl sighed, relieved, but leaned close to whisper so only Mirajane could hear it, “Thank you, M’Lady, but I still feel as if something has upset you. If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know at any time.”

A bit of warmth filled her chest as she tapped the other’s shoulder, “You’re too kind. I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a brief moment, she felt like her old self again, but as she stepped into the Great Hall, those fleeting emotions melted and her feet felt weighed down by lead.  The elders and her suitors beat her to the halls and all eyes looked upon her as she entered. Her silken threads gleamed in sunbeams that shone from the upper skylights and she walked with a timid grace that bellied her true feelings. I don’t want this. Her feet tapped down the steps to the hall, and her eyes swept over the faces of her chosen suitors. I don’t want them. 

Reaching the center of the hall, she stopped her approach. Mirajane’s emotions were masked behind calm expression and spoke of wisdom gifted by a higher power and a kindness that could ease the most troubled of minds. Through the years she perfected this appearance and it would be of great use to her now. 

“Good Morning, Oracle,” Gran Doma greeted, followed by the others in practiced unison.  He swept his arm towards the men before her, long sleeves swinging from the exaggerated movement. He was all pomp. Nothing more than traditional and set in his ways. Mirajane forced her smile to stay.

“On this day, we celebrate you coming of age. No longer shall the Whie Oracle of the Gods be locked within the confines of these halls. Now, you are free to visit those you serve and confer with the realm, with your new Chosen by your side.”

Another grand sweep of his overly large sleeves to the men before her and Mirajane resisted rolling her eyes. These were words spoken from memory, said to Oracle before Oracle. No matter the year, the words stayed the same. She could recite them from memory without the use of her gifts. The Elders who stood behind Gran Doma looked on in quiet apathy and her suitors….

It was difficult not to choke. Some looked upon her with hopes of being chosen. Being the intended for the Oracle was a high honor that many would fight to have, but others…  She felt a sad empathy for them. They matched her own mask, hiding their true emotions behind their need to follow duty. Did they have others they loved, as she did? Or were they forced to show interest? If she chose to focus, Mirajane could have learned much from them, but she didn’t pry. 

The minds of the village were private and sneaking a glimpse inside for her own curiosity would not make up for what was soon to happen. She swallowed, tuning in to the end of Doma’s speech and the dread clutched her lungs until breathing became difficult. 

She wanted to scream. 

“Please regard these men, carefully, Oracle,” Elder Yajima chimed in, earning a stern gaze from Doma as his speech ended, “Each one has their own strengths and all are more than capable of defending you should the need arise. There’s no need to be hasty.”

No need to be hasty, and yet she had to choose today. The irony was not lost on her. A few snorts in the line of men revealed she was not the only one to catch this. That revelation eased her troubled heart, if by a little.  It was hard to choose, hard to willingly look at them. Many blended into the scenery, while others partially stood out. Tall and broad shouldered, small but eyes blazing and another full of passive indifference with dark eyes. She felt something from them. Camaraderie, perhaps, but little else. Mirajane tried to focus, considering each man before her. They were more than just men chosen to serve her. More than just the shackles that would lock away her heart. They were people, just like her, forced into duty, just as she was. 

That thought, alone, made it easier to reach out for a blade one of the guards held before her. A traditional sword gifted to an Oracle’s chosen and she’d have to bequeath it sooner rather than later. It was heavy. Too heavy. As if the very steel knew of her misgivings. “For the one who will have my heart,” She recited, emotions failing to come through the words she had practiced for months, “I give this sword to-...”

To… who? All she had to do was approach her chosen with blade held for him to take, but her feet refused to move. 

Silence filled the spaces between them and Gran Doma cleared his throat. “To whom, Oracle?” His words carried pressure. Mirajane grit her teeth, biting back a sharp, angry reply.  What happened to no haste?

Panic rose, causing Mirajane’s eyes to wildly fall upon her choices, casting over them in hopes to settle over one to choose. Anything to make it end, to make the stares and the pressure go away. Anything to move on and away from the realization her choice would put her that much farther away from the woman she wanted above all overs. “I- I give this sword to-” Erza’s voice rang from the stairs, “Me.”

Pandemonium broke and many voices spoke at once. Gran Doma sputtered and the Elder’s rose from their chairs, bewildered. The men looked between each other, confused while Mirajane’s despair vanished to hope and wonder.  She spun to look behind her, fearing she had misheard, but viewing the bright red of Erza’s hair and determined set of her jaw, brought immediate relief. Mirajane beamed through the salty sting of tears. She breathed Erza’s name like a prayer and clutched the blade to her chest. Erza’s steps echoed with each stomp, and her gaze never left Mirajane’s. “I swore today would be a good one,” She explained, “but I realized stepping aside would break that vow. Above my own oath and duty, I couldn’t allow that.”

“Does that mean,” Mirajane’s voice filled with awe, her words dying in her throat before she could finish her sentence. 

Gran Doma chose then to break from his stupor, sputtering as he stopped Erza from answering Mirajane’s unfinished question. “You! You’re just a Shadow Guardian, what right do you have to be here? The Oracle shouldn’t even know of your existence!”

Mirajane’s mouth clamped shut. The implications were clear. Speak and give away Erza’s transgressions or stay silent, feigning ignorance? Apprehension covered her relief and threatened to drown what hope she regained. Erza paused, considered the Elders with disdain and began her trek again. Each step brought her closer to Mirajane, but her eyes, now narrowed, looking beyond Mirajane and towards the Elders who grumbled in offense. “Whether she knows of it or not is irrelevant.” Erza stated, daring them to stop her advancement. “I have watched and guarded the White Oracle for years. I have shed blood from her pursuers, from thieves in the night. I have kept watched and observed her more than anyone can claim and with this being my final day as her secret protector, I’ve come to offer myself as more.”

Kneeling paces away from Mirajane, Erza’s voice rang out with the strength she carried behind every swing. “Oh, White Oracle, as unworthy as I am, I am here to offer up my services, not as your guardian from the shadows, but as your chosen… If.. If you will have me.”

Her words faltered in the end, giving way to the obvious anxiety that plagued her thoughts as her cheeks and ears grew red. It endeared Mirajane to her more, seeing Erza breaking through her range of comfort to make a stand. 

“This is unheard of!” Gran Doma shouted, “You weren’t among the suitors picked for our oracle. You have no ground to stand on here!”

“And yet,” Yajima, echoed by a few others, interrupted, “I find the idea intriguing.”

“Excuse me?!?”

“Well, yes. What reason is there, really, to say a Shadow Guard cannot become the Chosen of an Oracle?”

The Grand Elder grew red in the face, his anger and outrage boiling through him. “It breaks tradition. The order would never allow her to-”

“You’re right.” Erza said, voice cold. “They would not. Which is why I’ve abandoned my title and my vows. They can no longer hold me.”

His shock left him gaping like a fish, but before he could argue, another voice interrupted, coming from one of the very men waiting for her hand. The tallest of the bunch, grumbled his agitation and turned to face the elders. “I see no issue with this,” He said, “why would a man as great as myself want to be paired with a woman who cares nothing for me anyway? Perhaps you’re too strung up in tradition to accept it, but if this is what the Oracle chooses, then who are you to disagree?”

A low murmur of agreement followed the line of supposed suitors and tears dripped from Mirajane’s eyes. They agreed! Others, against the elders, felt the same as her!  Oh she could have sang! Instead, she smiled warmly and stepped towards Erza. Her voice no longer wavered or masked the emotions she held inside her. “No longer will the White Oracle be held by tradition,” Her voice rang out clear, echoing through the hall as if powered by the spirits who blessed her. “From now on, they will be free to choose whoever they see fit for themselves.  My dearest, Erza, you’ve given me more than I could have ever hoped for and for that…”

She held the sword out towards the Knight at her feet, “I gift this sword to you. For the one who has my heart. Will you accept?”

Through the outcry of rage behind them, Mirajane looked to Erza and Erza looked to Mirajane. No longer did duty and misunderstanding come between them. There was only a connection far deeper than any oath could overcome. Erza reached for the sword, fingers grasping the hilt of Mirajane’s. Stepping swiftly towards her, their lips met in a meeting Mirajane had dreamed of for years. Between them, their hopes and secret dreams came to light, flashing through Mirajane’s eyes before she could stop them. Tears streamed down her face as they opened themselves to the other and when they broke apart, it was only to breathe and rest their foreheads against the other. Erza’s smile was as bright as the sun as she gazed warmly at Mirajane. Squeezing their fingers together, she sealed the deal that would change their village for years to come. “I accept.”

[shipper-trash-bag]

Unlovable

Sam couldn’t focus, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t read another second of text in from of him, slamming the book closed and excusing himself from the library in a stiff tone, all but running to his room.

Gabriel was on a date. Without him. Not that Sam expected to be taken out by the former archangel, but he had hoped. Now that they were back home and safe, no portals open, no one coming for them, he had hoped maybe something could blossom between them. Maybe not love, mainly because of Sam’s own luck or lack there of in tbt department, but maybe a friendship. Something. But no, he was stuck at the bunker with Dean and his mother doing research while Gabriel went off doing who knows what with the waitress they’d met a state over the previous night.

Falling into bed with the lights off, he willed himself not to cry, the cloud of darkness in his mind doing its best to silence any shred of happiness he might have in his heart. He doesn’t love you, it whispered. He’ll never love you, you’re not worth his love. A former archangel, ha! You’re delusional. You don’t deserve him. He tried to block out the voice with a pillow, but it was no use. It was louder than even Lucifer’s was at times, the depression he’s had since he was a child never lifting long enough for him to feel like he mattered, like he was worthy of love.

Jess made him feel worthy at one point. And now she’s dead, the voice whispered. But his mother and his brother were here. And they both left, they only came back because they had no other choice, it hissed. But Cas- loves Dean more, always has. And Jack - could do better than you.

It dragged him down, down, down deeper in the pits of sorrow, the tears not shy now as they streamed down his face as he sobbed. He rolled himself under the covers, hiding from the world as the voice got what it demanded - defeat.

Sam fell asleep like that, tears stained on his cheeks, sleeping fitfully and waking up with a start several hours later. Uneasy, but too wired to sleep, he made his way to the kitchen to make a tea, stopping short as he found Gabriel sitting at the table, back to him, shoulders shaking. “Gabriel?”

The ex angel startled, wiping at his face as he sniffles and turned around, plastering a fake smile for his friend. “Hey Sam. Sorry, did I wake you?”

Sam shook his head, concerned. “No, couldn’t sleep. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, noth-“

“Gabriel.” Sam sat heavily across from him, face set in stone. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me, please.”

With the softness of his words, Gabriel broke down, head falling forward as he sobbed. Sam grabbed at his hands, squeezing tightly as Gabriel explained. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go out with her. I drove all the way over there and I just couldn’t- I had to tell her I wasn’t ready, and she looked at me like I was broken. Like I wasn’t even worth her time.”

“Gabriel, it just didn’t work out with her, I’m sure the next time you-“

“No!” He gasped, looking at Sam with watery eyes. “Asmodeus was right. I’m not worth anyone’s time.”

Sam was furious. How dare anyone tell his friend such a ridiculous thing. “You’re worth mine.”

Gabriel scoffed, snorting a little as he coughed. “But you deserve better. You deserve someone unbroken.”

Sam squeezed his hand, forcing Gabriel’s gaze on his own, feeling braver than he had in a long time. “You know what I did when you left yesterday?” Gabriel shook his head. “I tried to research with mom and Dean, to catalogue the library better, but I couldn’t focus. I ended up in my room, crying until I fell asleep.”

Gabriel reeled back as if he’d been slapped. “What? Why would you do something like that?”

Sam took a shaky breathe in, looking down at the Formica of the table. “Because the man I love went on a date with a waitress he met a state away.” Gabriel’s hands withdrew from Sam’s own and the ringing in his ears started up again, the voice not far behind. See? He doesn’t love you. Sam closed his eyes against the assault, letting the pain wash over him, it demanding to be felt. You ruined it, just like you ruin everything.

But as he felt the first tear threaten to fall, he also felt strong arms circle around him. He opened his eyes to find Gabriel no longer sitting across from him, but instead standing next to him, holding him tightly. Sam raised his hands up to hold him back, feeling Gabriel mutter into his neck, “do you really love me?” Nodding, he felt a shudder against him. “I thought you hated me?”

Sam pulled back, looking at Gabriel’s tear soaked face with nothing but surety. “No, I don’t hate you. Sometimes I hate what you do, but I haven’t hated you for a long time. The past three years? I’ve loved you so much I think I’d die.” Gabriel hiccuped a laugh, a small hopeful smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Seeing you with other people felt like being shot in the heart. I don’t deserve someone as good as you.”

“Oh, Sam,” Gabriel gasped, holding his hunter tightly as the kitchen clock ticked on. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s you who’s too good for me.” He shifted as Sam stood to hold him properly, tears soaking the shirt he’s buried his face into. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I went on that date, I’m sorry-“

But Sam had heard enough. He knew they’d both suffered enough, both feeling like they weren’t worthy of one another, of happiness. “Shh,” Sam hushed, rubbing at Gabriel’s back. “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s okay.”

“You cried yourself to sleep over me!”

“I once cried myself to sleep over Optimus Prime dying.”

Gabriel laughed, a wet chortling sound as he gripped onto Sam’s shirt. “I’m bearing my heart here and the man’s got jokes.”

“You’re always trying to make me laugh, thought I’d return the favour.”

They stood like that, holding one another for a while, soaking up the love from the other, calming the tears that slowly tapered off until Gabriel pulled his head away far enough to look up at Sam, eyes shining with happiness as well as tears. “You know,” Gabriel said slowly. “If we were to go on a first date, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Sam thought about it for a moment, and replied, “nothing wrong with dinner and a movie, you know.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You’re Sam freaking Winchester, you deserve something more special than that.”

Sam leaned down to kiss Gabriel on the cheek. “I don’t know about you, but I plan on having more than just the one date with you. There’s lots of time for special.”

Gabriel nodded, pulling away to hold Sam’s hand. “Would you like to accompany me to breakfast then? We can make it our first date, or we can use it to discuss where we want to go on our first date?” The hope in his eyes was palpable. Sam squeezed his hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. “Or we could do it tomorrow? Whenever. I don’t want to rush you.” Sam pulled on his hand, leading him out of the kitchen. “Sam?”

“I’m tired. I think I should go back to bed.”

“Oh, uh, okay” Gabriel nodded, confused and a little hurt. “I understand. It’s like, four am, so I get it.”

“You look tired too, maybe you should take a nap,” Sam smiled a wicked grin, Gabriel however, was still slow on the uptake.

“Okay, but you know my room’s the other way, so-“

Sam rolled his eyes, kissing Gabriel on the cheek again. “My bed’s big enough for two.”

“Oh. Oh! Oooooh!” Gabriel smiled, hand squeezing Sam’s. “I don’t have any expectations of you, just to let you know.”

Sam nodded, leading them to his room, flicking the lights off in the other rooms as they passed them. “It doesn’t have to be anything other than sleep.”

“And cuddling. I’m gonna cuddle the crap out of you.” Sam laughed, nodding as they rushed back to his room.

Ten minutes of getting the bed just right, another two to get the right angles, Gabriel nestled in his arms, Sam realized the voice in the back of his head was quiet. “I like this,” Gabriel whispered.

Sam nodded, leaning down to do what he had wanted to for three long years. The second their lips touched, Sam felt like he could cry. But this time, they would be tears of joy, especially when Gabriel pulled back to whisper, “I love you too.”

They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, and when he awoke many hours later, Gabriel’s face pressed to his chest, he felt more loved and cherished than he had in years.

Gabriel awoke slowly, and with a single breath, he filled Sam’s heart to the brim when he said “I promise you’ll never feel unloved again.”

[dear-selena]

All I See (Peter Parker x Soulmate! Reader): Chapter 2

Peter x Reader Soulmate!AU

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

Summary: You live in a world where women start to gain color when they meet their soulmate, but they cannot see all the colors at once until they’ve united with them. Peter Parker is your soulmate, but he has no idea. You want to tell him about the colors you see, but are afraid to. Sometimes, girls can be malicious with the soulmate troupe, and you don’t want Peter to think you’re doing the same. So you keep quiet, and experience one color at a time.

It isn’t until Liz Allan comes in the picture that all you see is green, and you hate it.

A/N: Thank you guys for the support so far! Im still having trouble with my tumblr account, so please excuse any typos to weirdness in format. I have a tagged list for this story now, so please let me know if you’d like to be added to it!

Chapter Two: Cool Colors

Words: 1567

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You anxiously wait for your phone to ring, purple engulfing your vision for fear.

Peter was out stopping a robbery at a nearby bank. He always texts you before he suits up, and calls after he’s completed his missions. He really doesn’t have to, but you insisted so much that it’s become routine. Ultimately, you just want to know your soulmate made it home safe.

And if anything, with the context you see purple in, you just want the fear of your soulmate dying to go away.

While scrolling through instagram, liking photos to distract yourself from your thoughts, your phone suddenly goes off and Peter’s picture appears on the screen. It’s a candid you took of him when he wasn’t looking. He’s shoving a giant slice of pizza in his mouth, and if you squinted, he was practically drooling. He hates the photo, claiming that’s the ugliest photo of him to exist.

To you, it was adorable.

You answer your phone so fast, you almost got whiplashed. “Hello? Peter?” You ask frantically. You were waiting longer than expected for his call.

“(Y/N)? You alright?” Peter asks, clearly caught off guard by your panic.

You sigh and close your eyes, trying to quickly calm yourself down. “Yes, I’m good. I just get really nervous when you don’t call after missions.”

“Well I can assure you that I just got home all safe. The robbers really did put up a fight, but I got em.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and say “Thank goodness,” as the purple faded into a light turquoise color, indicating relief.

Peter chuckles. “You get so worried about me. Ned doesn’t even worry about me as much as you do.”

“Yeah, but I care about you. You’re one of my best friends.” Saying best friend felt kind of forced if you were being honest. You wish you could tell him that you love him, and that your his soulmate. However, you haven’t had that conversation with him, so for now, best friend will do.

“Yeah,” You hear his voice waver. “You’re one of my best friends too.”

Your vision turns yellow.

“Well,” Peter continues. “It’s getting late, I think you should get some sleep knowing that your friendly neighborhood Spiderman once again saved the day,” You could almost see the smug look on your soulmate’s face.

“Aha yeah sure. But I wanna talk to you mooooorrreee,” you say playfully.

“(Y/N) you always say that,” Peter says laughing. “But it’s going to be a big day tomorrow. We have that english quiz and I’m going to try to talk to Liz again.”

You instantly frown at the mention of Liz, your vision immediately turning green once again. Peter has not stopped talking about Liz since she reappeared in school two weeks ago. He’s been trying to talk to her more as well. Even inviting her to sit with you guys at lunch once. She didn’t accept, as she had to leave school early.

It’s not like you had malicious feelings towards her. In fact, you had the chance to meet her. You walked into school one day and saw Peter talking to Liz, his face practically glowing and his body leaning towards hers. As you approached the two, Peter caught a glimpse of you and happily introduced you to the girl that made you see green. She was very friendly, and even complimented your hair and clothes. You had no reason to hate her. But nevertheless, every time Liz came up, your vision turned green and you felt your stomach bury itself in a pit.

Green was not a pretty color for you to see.

“Oh yeah,” You deadpan. You’re pretty sure Peter didn’t notice though. “How could I forget about the quiz.”

You give your quick goodbyes and hang up the phone, letting out a frustrated sigh you didn’t know you were holding. Knowing that Peter’s old crush was back in his life made you regret not telling him that you were his soulmate sooner. But you can’t just tell him, not with what he went through before. You weren’t there, but you know it really hurt him to have a girl pretending to be his soulmate. It’s a really cruel thing girls do sometimes, and you hated the idea of faking it. It didn’t make sense to you. You wanted your soulmate’s relationship with you to come naturally and lovingly. You wanted Peter to love you without you telling him anything.

But with Liz in the picture, things got a little more complicated.

________

The next day at lunch, your vision was back to yellow. You were sitting with Peter and Ned per usual. This time though, MJ sat next to you, nose stuffed in a book. Even though she was reading, she was also listening to a crazy conversation. Ned came in today telling everyone that his cousin, Gloria, finally got to see all the colors.

“She came to my place last night with her boyfriend, Cole, and she was in tears,” Ned says before quickly sipping on his Mountain Dew. “She said all the colors looked beautiful at once.”

“That’s amazing!” You exclaim. You love hearing about successful soulmate stories. It gave you hope that one day you’d have a successful one too.

“Our whole family was so happy too. We were practically thanking Cole for giving her color.”

“The soulmate thing is just so weird,” Peter states. “I can’t imagine seeing the world without color.”

“Yeah same!” Ned agrees. “I don’t get why it’s only the girls that gain the color.”

“It’s cause girls are smarter,” MJ responds, not lifting her eyes from her book.

“Hey, do you two see colors? Have you guys met your soulmate?” Ned asks.

You can feel yourself start to sweat. You did not know how to answer, especially with your soulmate sitting across the table from you.

Before you can answer, MJ beats you to it.

“No,” she snorts. “My soulmate is probably in jail for all I know.” You can’t help but laugh at that.

You look at the two boys to see them waiting for your answer. You suddenly feel anxious again. Should you tell the truth? You could always lie, and pretend you didn’t meet your soulmate yet like MJ. You could get away with it easily too…

But then you remember all those girls that like to lie about these things, and decide you don’t want to be like them.

“Actually yeah,” you say slowly, testing out your words. You’ve never talked about your soulmate out loud before, and it felt kind of weird. MJ looks up from her book, Ned’s eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise, and Peter’s eyes go wide as he suddenly looks down at his lap.

“Really?” Ned asks. “Do they know?”

You shake your head. “Not yet. I can only see one color at a time.”

“Shit that’s awesome! Which color do you see right now?” Ned asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Yellow. For friendship,” You look down and shrugged, trying not to gush over the color.

“Damn (Y/N), why haven’t you told them yet?” Ned asks, really intrigued by this.

You quickly glance at Peter to see him look away once again. Thankfully, no one else notices.

“Honestly, I want my soulmate to love me naturally, not because I told him I was his soulmate.”

“Oh my god,” MJ puts her book down and throws her hands to her head. “You’re one of those girls.”

You frown at MJ, a little offended at her comment. But she does make a point. Some girls really want things to happen naturally, and it’s definitely a cliche thing. You couldn’t help it that you wanted a cliche romance with your soulmate…

“You should just tell them,” MJ continues, going back to her book. “It makes things a lot easier and you get your colors quicker.”

“Yeah but it’s not that easy,” you retort. “I don’t want my soulmate to think I’m lying if I just say it all of a sudden. The last thing I want is for them to think I’m leading them on.”

“Oh yeah I get that,” Ned comments while nodding. “Men have to be careful who they trust when it comes to soulmate talk. You know, so things like what happened to Peter won’t happen to others,” Ned shoves his elbow into your soulmate’s side. Peter looks up and fakes a smile as his cheeks darken, obviously blushing. He looks back down at his lap sadly. You can tell he’s still not over what happened to him before, and it makes you wish you could take his pain away.

Suddenly, Peter slowly smiles to himself and looks up at Ned. “I wonder if I make Liz see colors.”

Your vision instantly turns green.

Ned starts to laugh. “Pete, when are you gonna give that up? You guys have so much history already. Wouldn’t she have said something by now?”

“Hey, a guy can dream can he?”

Peter suddenly stares off in the distance, and you turn to see Liz and a group of her friends about to walk past your table. She catches Peter’s stare and smiles back at him, waving at him in the process. In a trance-like state, Peter waves back, a smile beaming off his face.

The green gets more intense.

You hate the color green.

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