#Oh I decided to give the shooting star the name of Twinkle.

[wanderfan2000]

Last year, I reblogged a post from Cody about her saying that Wander could be some mystical figure you might hear in a a chrildren’s bedtime story. Then I noticed that it would be a great idea for a children’s storybook. I happed to be great storyteller and I love making stories And since there is a bunch of Wander fans who want to make little books for kids with our favorite characters from the Wander universe, I decided to make my own called, Wander and the Shooting Star!

[darthmaulification]

(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first  request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?” 

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious. 

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—” 

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side. 

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face. 

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

[semischarmed]

Chrysalis

People say that college is where you “find yourself” and I can’t help but agree. It’s just, well, how I truly found myself was through my roommate Kyle. Or rather, inside him.

How to describe Kyle? He’s basically the perfect roommate. He’s kind, quiet, studious, relatively clean. He goes to soccer practice for some kind of campus league every weekend. Kyle is also rushing one of the frats on campus- Sig something or the other, so I get quite a few long nights to myself. Long, hot nights where I can’t help but scramble over to his side and pleasure myself in a pile of dirty Kyle-scented undergarments. The biggest treats were the nights when he had to do his frat stuff after a match. The nights when I could slip on his unwashed sweaty gear and just lie in the bliss of being surrounded in him. Every few days, we go out to grab a bite to eat and shoot the shit- the guy’s been a great friend to me, despite his typical serious demeanor. Since he was rushing this semester, he’s been busier and busier but he still makes time for me, even inviting me to some of his soccer team or frat bro hangouts. What can I say? I lucked out with Kyle. Still, I’m a greedy son of a bitch, and I wanted more of him. 

I decided fairly early on that I would possess him, make him wholly mine. I can’t even quite explain why Kyle specifically. He’s cute-sure, tone-definitely, but he isn’t super buff, he isn’t red-carpet-movie star hot, so it’s really hard to place why, out of anyone I could take in this entire school, I decided he would be my target. My forever home. Something about him was just enticing. Maybe it was the way his coffee brown eyes relayed a sense of mystery and serious matters, but lit up with the faintest twinkle of amusement when he recapped his games. Or maybe the way his body only gave me the briefest of glimpses at his musculature when he switched shirts. Maybe it was his kindness, unexpectedly bright for a frat-boy-soccer-star-roomate. Or maybe the way his scent lingered in the room after a workout. God, that scent. Pleasant, warm, humid, musky- like summer rain. Doesn’t matter. I wanted him. I wanted to spend my every moment with him. In him. I wanted to be wrapped up in Kyle’s flesh till the end of time, to wake up with Kyle’s eyes, to take every breath with his lungs, feel every beat of his heart pump as mine.

This possession was going to be special. I prepped for weeks- months even. Truthfully, it’s not all that difficult to possess someone for sometime and when you’re as good at it as I am, you can even maintain it indefinitely by putting the smallest pieces of yourself in them. Kyle would be different. Full, integrative possession- a one-way ticket. I wanted this shit to be permanent. I was going to stuff my entire physical form inside his. To take someone at their core, to violate every law of nature both physical and metaphysical- this, this needed setup, needed planning, needed Kyle to be present during the entire process. Therein lies the issue- how to get a lucid Kyle to sit still long enough for me to complete the slow process of integrating to him. 

I came to the conclusion that a catalyst of sorts was necessary. Something that could lock us in together physically, could stop him from leaving or stopping process, could break open after let the new and improved me emerge. Guess who drafted plans for a one such catalyst? Guess who switched majors to Material Science, who befriended a professor just to figure out a good semi-permeable material to use? No one can say I didn’t love him- at least in my own special way. After weeks of trial, weeks of iteration, I decided on a tight-fitting, sleeping-bag-esque contraption. The material and shape were special- virtually impossible for a human being to break out of, kept fluids in but let some air flow through for ventilation, shaped such that we could only fit directly stacked on top of each other, leaving him unable to escape the process. I also set the release mechanism in the back, so only a completed Kyle could escape. Like any good invention, I gave it a name befitting its purpose: Chrysalis.

I settled on a day where he would be weakest- cardio day, a day where I could easily slip some compound into his post workout mix. I finished preparations with the chrysalis, secretly hidden in his bed.

“Hey dude, sup?” He asks nonchalantly with a slight head nod, as he enters our room, visibly tired from the workout. “Nothing, man” I reciprocate in amusement. I watch in secret anticipation as he downs his special post-workout mixture, scratches his cock through his boxers- unconcerned, comfortable, and gives off a loud yawn. “Hey man, I-I-don’t....feel..” I rush to help him, corralling the grimy, tired, post-workout Kyle into place. He asleep almost immediately. I strip us both naked, marveling at my new vessel. Damn. A light pelting of hair covers the deceptively muscular soccer star. A blanket of sweat surrounds him while a bit of the spiked post workout drink pools at the corners of his plump lips. Deliciously plump lips beckoning for a taste. I aim to lick it off and give him a kiss before I immediately realize what the repercussions would be. Shit. Close call. I stroke his hair, leaning in to tell him how much I wanted this. I take a quick sniff at his pits, at his groin and god they smell fantastic. I roll him to his side, as I take my naked form beside him and pull the Chrysalis around ourselves. I roll to have my back face the bed and the bottom of my cocoon, pulling Kyle on top of me and engaging the the contraption to wrap around us. I find the button to tighten it, effectively locking the position of our stacked bodies in place. I find the final button to lock the Chrysalis into its release valve. No going back.

When I seal us together in my little love cocoon, I begin to feel the gravity of his form above mine, slick with perspiration. My future body was dense, probably from years of building muscle, perfectly tempered, toned, streamlined by every game, every win. Inside our encasement, I rocked back and forth, getting into as comfortable of a position as I could and rubbing our sweaty bods together. I lock my legs around his, intertwine our fingers together and wait patiently for Kyle to come to.

The scent was indescribable, orgasmic even. I’ve never felt closer to him. I am in tune with his slightest movements as he lay on top. With every breath, every inhale our bodies rise and fall in sync. With every steamy inhale I draw in his breath. like we were breathing in each other. No one else deserved to experience Kyle this way, not even his girlfriend Steph. Kyle was mine and mine alone. With mine still intertwined with his, I drag Kyle’s limp hands around his belly, his light abs, give him a feel for himself.

An intrusive wave of uncertainty hits me. Oh god what am I doing? Am I really doing this? This, this is unnatural. I release my hands from his grasp and reach them around him, lightly dancing them across my future body and feeling the new vessel so close, feeling his damp, gently sculpted abs for myself, squeezing his supple ass. Stupid natural order shit. I tug on his hefty, limp dick, which begins to harden involuntarily at my provacation. This is mine. Fuck the natural order, not giving you up baby.

He wakes, disoriented in the Chrysalis. “Uh...I...What the fuck...” Panic sets in, as he feels my immobile flesh behind him and he tries to get his bearings to no avail. He keeps moving back and forth, trying to dislodge himself from the Chrysalis, from me, but it’s far too tight and too strong. I made sure of that. “Oh god, oh god...” he trails as he tries to rationalize the past events. I decide at that point to reveal my identity, faking the sounds of myself waking up before sleepily asking him “Kyle? Uh... w-what are you doing here? What are we doing? W-Where is this? Did you do this? Kyle? Kyle!” I’m a shitty actor but he seems to have bought it. I relish the moment when he sighs in relief at the realization that the naked form on his back was mine. I guess he trusts me. Cute, but you shouldn’t trust me, Kyle.  

“Oh thank god, dude I don’t know, I just woke up. I- uh- sorry, I’m gonna try to get us out of this thing,” He states as he wiggles to try to release us from my cocoon. And fuck did that feel good. 

“Mmmmm Kyle” I trail, as my dick starts to harden and poke at his ass. The wiggling does not helping him, as every movement gets me harder and pushes my dick further in him. 

“Oh! EW! Fuck! What the fuck man!” He shouts, before he realizes all this was turning me on. “Fuck dude stop!” he exclaims. 

“Why would I stop this, baby, we’re just getting started.” I give his back shoulder a quick lick. “I’m gonna make you feel like a new man”.

“Y-You! YOU! You did this! the Fuck! Get me out of here!!” He spat, only for it to rain back on to us through gravity. 

He squirms, trying to escape once more only to be met with the Chrysalis’ tight hold on our forms and my engorged cock. “Only one person can come out of this thing” I moan, as I start gyrating myself into him. “Get the fuck off me, Fag!” He screams in vain as parts of me already start connecting into him. The parts of his body connected to mine light up, like sparks dancing across mine. Euphoria. “There’s that soccer rage” I state seductively as I wrap my arms around his torso and abs and push us impossibly closer. “Suits you... suits...me”.

By this point, My body was halfway submerged into his and he finally starts to feel my nerves, my cells as his. With our shared senses, he feels my arms pushing us together as if his own self was doing the deed. “AHHHH OH MY GOD. Oh! nonononono” He exclaims in terror. He is reduced to incoherent babbling as he smells the suffocating concoction of his post-workout filth. The air is thick and brimming with pheromones. He is reduced to disgust, when he tastes the droplets in the air of our putrid selves locked inside my Chrysalis. Of course, in our connected state, I taste them too, only I love this taste. His taste. Our taste. I can only moan as I continue merging into him and my limbs and his are one. I feel my new biceps as I trace them around the new me. Tone. Nimble. Champion. And I feel my new, experience-tempered legs. Vascular. Virile. Powerful. I’m a goddamn athlete.

Animalistic, guttural sounds escape his mouth as the last of my torso and neck coalesce into his, and all that remains is my head, firmly planted to the back of his. I take a deep whiff of his now-drenched hair with our new, shared, workhorse lungs. “We’re so close, baby.”

Inserting myself into his mind was equally orgasmic. He screams at contact. The first plunge of my forehead tp the back of his was some useless frat shit. Whatever. I dig my head deeper into him and felt his years of soccer practice leak into me. More goodstuff. Then deeper still- and fond memories with friends, fond memories of school bleed into me. I plunge further and further in, taking in every piece of him I could, while he pants and winces at my insertion. His first kiss, grandfather’s funeral, deepest urges all MINE. Fuck. I pull back slightly, as I feel his him gently sob, before I push more myself deeper into his psyche. He screams at the injection of more of my memories and at the realization that this was a one way trip for both of us. “FUCK! FUCK! Stop Please! Too much! Too much!” I mentally sneer as I thrust even deeper into his mind, grabbing some more of him, and leaving more of myself. Childhood memories and feelings flood into my mind and I experience everything that has led to Kyle becoming Kyle. The feeling of winning my first game. The feeling I felt the first time I masturbated. More. Kyle’s deep love for Steph.

Damn, this guy was ready to pop the question and start a family with her-Not Anymore baby. You’re with me now, Kyle. I corrode this particular aspect of him with my own innermost desires. My perversions, the pure lust I felt in finally taking him. He laughs, moans at the lust he now had, before catching himself.

“Oh god what... doing... me!” he whimpers as his body convulses and drools. Our shared pupils dilate at the process as his body thrashes in futility. And yet, I press into him deeper still. Deeper and deeper inside until all but the very last of my old self is left. His deepest secrets, his dreams, self worth belong to me. He cries, mouth mumbling incoherently into a crescendo as I worm in that last bit my head into his and my own life become his. My old body’s childhood memories, My old thoughts, feelings, knowledge, secrets flood his. I give all of it to my new self, ingraining me in him, and cementing us together.

“AHHHH DAMN IT! Fuck Fuck! get-get the fuck out!” he screams as his hands start pulling on his hair, as his head shakes left and right trying to get the intrusion of my mind out of his. He recoils as I briefly take control. “No way dude, this [moan] oh god this is fucking great.” We continue panting, continue convulsing as his body is forced to accept me. “M-My name is Kyle, and I feel fucking good!” He shakes a bit more. “STOP-“ I cut in to force him to tell me “God I fucking love you inside me. Take me! Use me!” He begins gently sobbing, but I make him do it with a smile. “My name is Kyle and I’m a sick fuck who’s gonna cum inside and possess his closest friends”. I make us moan. 

Eventually, the seizing stops, and Kyle finds a moment of clarity. With my memories in him, He finds the release built into the Chrysalis and we emerge out of our slick cocoon as one. Sweat and cum trickle out as we come out a new man. A changed man. He walks to mirror in horror, checking himself to look for any wounds in his form. Instead he finds pulsing of my flesh-or what used to be my flesh-at various parts of his body beneath his skin. Abberant. Inhuman.

“Oh god oh god oh god this-this-this, this can’t be happening”. My new heart quickens as Kyle continues to panic. He tries to slap himself awake, but with each slap my control tightens and I make him moan in approval. He feels impossibly full with something-someone pulsing deep inside his skin, integrating. A natural violation of the highest order. He whimpers as he takes nervous, shaking hands all around him, feeling the intrusiveness of the eroticism I feel in being in him. The pulsing in him stops. “Keep going, baby [moan] fill me up. Make me you,” I force him to tell me with a tone that oozed sex. A tone that was alien to his voice. “My name is Kyle and I love dick. I love dick because the man inside me, the man controlling my every action loves dick. And he’s never leaving me. I love that too, because he’s inside me, making me love that.”

“Kyle I’m giving you one last morsel choice before I take it all the way- I decide everything for us from now on” I state to my reflection in the mirror, giving it a slobbery kiss. “We got a cute ass...I’m sure we can snag a few more bodies to play with... I wanna get a little party going. You know, our teammates are pretty cute, aren’t they? Maybe we can stick some me inside them”. I make him lick his lips. “Your frat bros are pretty cute too [moan] you wanna be frat president? I can arrange that, once I make you put me inside them...I’m getting ahead of myself... Let’s start with one. Pick someone...someone we can take, can use, can fuck” I force his face into an out of place, lustful, deranged smile before returning control to him. “Stay the fuck away from my bros! I..... uh...sorry. S-Sorry for shouting. Just please-please! Get out!” he whimpers in desperation, before descending into more hysteric sobbing. Hysteric sobbing which becomes cute, unsettling giggling, which becomes a roaring laughter as I wrestle back control of my new meat-suit. I wipe his tears off my new face, giving it a quick taste before taking a tour of the new me. “You and I both know there is no going back. The old me? Doesn’t exist. I am You, now. This is your body doing these actions, your brain thinking these thoughts”.

A tremor begins from our extremities, limbs become numb as our shared nerves light up in stimulation. More internal sparks fly through us. This was it. Like an earthquake in my new body, a wave of new feelings wash over me, rocking me to my core. The world around us shook, as the final pieces of my physical self interlocks with his and two become one. 

I reach down to pleasure myself, before deciding instead to first push Kyle’s consciousness to the front so he can watch. This would be my first time in this body. Lets make it special. I do a quick reverse crunch, holding the position. Fucking easy in this body. And then pull the crunch close till the body starts to struggle “Arrgh Fuck! Stop!” he screams. I pull even further and he cries from the uncomfortable position I put us in. “This is mine now” I state with his voice, “I decide how far..[pant]..how far we go” And decide I do, as I pull us even further back, prompting another pained “FUCK” from Kyle. I line my growing hard on-our growing hard-on, up to our shared mouth. “Look.. look at what you can do” I moan as him, before letting his consciousness back in front, leaving only control of his face. He is in hysterics as I keep him locked in his position and continue breaking this new bod. 

“Look at what we’re capable of when I’m driving” I state in our shared mind. His head thrashes back and forth before I freeze it in place. I take brief control of just his plump lips and mouth, and position his thick dick inside. Fuck we taste good. Salty, with the smallest hint of bitterness. I continue, pumping head faster and faster, forcing my occupant to feel every motion. We make little noise beyond the soft smacking sounds as we continue. The feeling was fucking euphoria. Im sure he feels it too, since he’s been uncharacteristically quiet. I’ve seen him do his warmup stretches before. I knew what he was capable of- with just a little push from me. When he shoots, when I let him shoot, I keep our shared mouth firmly wrapped around our engorged dick, guzzling our creation greedily. This mouth cannot contain it all and a bit spill below. Even more dribbles out of as I slowly release our position. Wet cum spills and pools on our shared chest and abs. I smear it around like a lotion. 

I jump and stretch myself into straight standing abruptly, forcing a slight jolt of pain from previously contorting this new body in a way it never had to before. His blood rushes through me, through us, and I let out a sigh of relief and contentment in the afterglow of my possession. I lick my new self clean, exploring all of Kyle’s crevices, before I coat our mouth in my new seed for a taste and swallow the excess in one gulp. We taste Delicious. Kyle, you sexy, tasty fuck, I knew there was something different about you. That last stunt seemed to have satisfied him as he recedes into me. I am in a dreamy smile as I tap my head gently with my finger. “All me now”.

The alarm on Kyle’s phone-my phone rings suddenly. Oh Shit. Kyle-er I had a game in a few minutes. I head over to the field with a breeze behind me, to the sight of slight discomfort and subtle gagging from my teammates. Fuck that. Smell more of me motherfuckers. They smile with strained faces as we do some small warmups for the game. His teammates really were cute- I briefly consider possessing them right there in broad daylight. Fuck it, what can anyone fucking do? I’m Kyle. And when Kyle wants something, Kyle gets it. Still, I only came for a test drive, so I decide to postpone their fates.

The match was tense. My teammates were alright, sure. But Kyle? Me? I played his body like an expert- no movement wasted, every single action carefully considered and executed. It was my brain in here after all. Onlookers stared in awe as, almost inhumanly, I block everything that goes my way. Despite my brain’s expert calculation, his body also deserved to praise. His muscled legs gliding my form through the grass, effortlessly, the twisting his body at just the right spot for the most efficient block. This body following my every command, like I’ve owned it for years. The old me was not one for sports, but this? Working his musculature into these complex maneuvers? Straining his form to just the right amount to maximize performance? Bliss. I can see why some people like this shit. The more I move through him, the closer I felt. Despite my heavy panting at the end, I can’t help but feel energized. Being in him is invigorating. I could keep going at this for days and days- this was truly an athlete’s body. 

I do a little dance as, in the end, we squeeze a 1-0 victory. All thanks to me, of course. My teammates brace themselves slightly-likely from the deep, concentrated musk and gallons of sweat I was emanating- before they surround me in a group huddle. New and improved Kyle is kinky little shit though, so I grab and pull their sweaty bodies uncomfortably close, and then squeeze them to me even closer so they can leave with the scent of my sweat on them. They recoil at my actions, at my words, as the normally stoic Kyle gently coos “Great job, team”. They laugh nervously and try to pull away, but I keep them in the embrace just an awkward second too long, sniffing each of them and remarking them. One day, you’ll all be mine.

After the game, I return to our room and look at my sweaty, dirty self in the mirror. I take a whiff of the freshly filthy soccer game and  soccer team smells we impregnate our room with. I take a quick sniff of our shared armpits, deciding to forgo showering this bod. Exquisitely noxious. Not getting rid of this.

I called his girlfriend Steph to break up abruptly over phone, citing my “newfound” sudden onset homosexuality. She was upset, understandably, but supportive. Really, I had no issues with the girl, and in another life, we’d be best friends fawning over the same straight dude. But this was Kyle, new-Kyle, new-gay-Kyle-who-only-loves-possessed-dick. My Kyle. He was mine, and mine alone.

Having finished my short list of post-takeover errands, my new self was on the prowl for some new recruits, new bodies to take, to possess, to pleasure me. Since he never really gave me an answer to my question earlier, I search through the remnants of the Old Kyle in my mind, force them to give me the name of someone to to take. I smiled. In the echoes of my mind, one face, one name reverberated in my head.  

Red.

I start giggling in a cute tone, out of place coming out of jock Kyle before I break out into a full cackle. “Kyle, you sick, sick, fuck...Red? Big Bro Red? After all he’s done to try to bond with you? Sick, incestuous son of a bitch.” I let out a soft moan as I drag my new vascular hands all over myself, stopping at my new nipples to give them a slight tickle, and my eyes flutter. I give them a hard twist, whining in elation when his body delivers the sensations to me. The smells we’ve been emitting has been pungent, concentrated, putrid from that sweaty group hug earlier. “Traitorous, depraved fucks like me don’t deserve a shower” I make him say in dirty whispers.

Red was Kyle’s big bro at the frat, and someone I had only met once previously. Once was enough to leave an impression. Unlike cute, naturally introspective, reserved athlete Kyle, Big Bro Red was extroverted, artsy, and fucking hot. Apparently, he’s been trying to connect to Kyle ever since the two were paired. Well, Kyle’s under new management, and I planned to use every bit of their tenuous relationship to get Big Bro Red under that same management. This was going to be fun. 

I am stopped abruptly as my phone vibrates. “Hey, wanna grab a bite to eat?” I close my eyes in sweet satisfaction, lick my lips seductively and shift my mouth into a filthy smile when I catch the name of who it’s from:

Red. 

—————End—————

Took a bit of inspiration from some past stories I’ve read in writing this one. The story implies a continuation but I’m still a bit on the fence. Hope you liked it/ Happy New Year’s!

[bukojuiice]

something in the rain   — todoroki shoto

ೃ you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.

ೃ  pairing: shoto todoroki x fem! reader

ೃ  tags: childhood friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff

ೃ  warnings: none! 

ೃ wc: 1k

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr!  if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

ೃ song inspo: film out by bts

Puppy Love…

What a sweet and trivial concept.

Was it not?

You and Shoto met each other at the tender age of 7. Roughly two years into his intense and odious training brought upon him by his father. His mother who still unwaveringly continued to support him, would sneak the half and half boy out in between his trainings. Whether to bring him out to play in the local playground, run around in the flower fields, or to just go shopping in the local grocer. These simple things were enough to make the boy happy. Even for just a short moment.

Then, during one fated day, the sun was about to go down, and no other child was frolicking around the playground.

It was just you.

Alone on the swing, your eyes cast down on the ground, wriggling your feet and dipping them into the play sand. You hear a faint creaking sound of the seat next to you and now you were accompanied by a boy the same age as you were. Heterochromatic eyes filled with innocence and love, a smile that looked like it never left the curves of his face, floofy half red and white hair that gave him a very distinct yet striking appearance.

“Why are you all alone?” He inquires, tilting his head. “It’s almost night time too. It’s going to get scary…”

“You came here alone too.” You snapped back, averting his gaze and your mouth forming into a pout.

He shakes his head, “No I didn’t. My Mommy is just there.” He points to a faint silhouette of a woman not far from the two of you.

“Oh.” You blink. “Well, um- my house is just over there! So, my parents don’t need to always keep an eye on me!” You cross your arms, pointing to your house a few feet away from the playground.

“You’re lucky. My dad keeps an eye on me a lot. He’s scary most of the time too and I think it’s because of my quirk…” His shoulders visibly slump as he breathes out a hefty sigh. “Mommy takes me out to go play when I’m done with my training and I’m happy because of it!”

“D-do you wanna play on the slide?” You ask him, twiddling with your fingers. A faint shade of pink present on your cheeks. “If it’s okay, I wanna share my happiness with you!“

His eyes sparkle. “Sure! But…. wait! I don’t even know your name yet!”

“Ah my name’s (Y/N)!”

“I’m Shoto!” He grins, his eyes sparkling once more and you can’t help but become flustered even more.

 Oh, how you wish to see those bright blue and grey eyes again. His fluffy white and crimson hair, and just… feel his lingering presence in your life once more.

Why did time have to go by so fast?

Why did he have to leave?

After a year of feeling nothing but the purest and most blissful emotions whenever you were with him, that all came crashing down when Shoto and his family moved to another city. The reason why was because the neighborhood that you lived in wasn’t “healthy” for him or rather, it was too friendly and Shoto was getting attached to you even though he shouldn’t.

Heroes are built to be as strong as steel after all. Emotionally and Physically. Endeavor doesn’t want his son to be a soft little marshmallow who only beams so brightly whenever he hangs out with the little girl from the quaint neighborhood.

…It’s been 12 years since then.

You’re now a perpetually tired and no-nonsense sophomore college student. Studied hard enough to get a scholarship at one of the most prestigious universities in Japan and now it feels like you’re drowning in a massive amount of school works and extra cred.

Now, looking back at your whimsical childhood life that was only made possible because of one particular Icy-Hot boy, you get a sudden feeling of euphoria course through you as you reminisce the good times.

There was a feeling of inevitability when you met Shoto.

There was something about him that drew you in.

Even at such a young age, you had the sense that the two of you would be together.

That a moment in time would come in where he would look at you in a certain way and the two of you would cross the threshold of friendship into something so much more.

Which proved to be true, as he has always felt the same way as you did.

The two of you knew each other a little better than everyone else.

All the little secrets shared through giggles and fits of laughter, the embarrassing moments shared in a small and dusty playground, and the sweet little memories that the two of you were too young to understand, but what your prying yet loving mothers both noticed.

Your lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. Like two shooting stars descending from the night sky. It was always fate.

It was fate that the two of you met. It was fate that the two of you would become friends, playmates, and childhood sweethearts.

But you guess it wasn’t fate that the two of you would remain friends forever.

You are still hoping for a sign in the sky or a word from the stars.

If the two of you are fated to meet again.

The soft boom of thunder and sparkle of lightning awoken you from your slumber.

You had fallen asleep whilst studying for your finals. Just ten minutes of rest. You whispered to yourself.

Those ten minutes ended up becoming an hour and a half wasted and instead of studying and memorizing the chemical formulas, you ended up dreaming about ramen instead.

Some pages of your chemistry book were creased as you had ended up using it as a pillow. You pay this no mind as you mindlessly rub your eyes out of habit, looking out the window, as rain had begun to pour outside.  

You continue to observe the rainfall as the soft sound of droplets hitting the windowpane was so soothing to you, giving you a momentary peace of mind.

Your short meditation moment was soon interrupted with the grumbling of your stomach.

“Mom and Dad aren’t home till 9…” You stretch your arms, groggily murmuring to yourself. “Might as well have a trip to the convenience store.” You hop out of your chair, reaching for a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants from your closet, trying to channel the comfy girl look as you head out.

You lock the door to your house, opening your umbrella as you whistle your way to the convenience store, taking each step carefully hoping you don’t step on any dirty puddles and hoping you see some cute little frogs on the pathway.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a black sedan parked not too far from your house. You raise suspicion a little bit until you remembered that a new family was moving in the house near you, so you decided to just brush off your skepticism.

“Welcome to Conbini! May I kindly ask you to leave your umbrella by the door?” The cashier greets you, trying to force a customer-friendly smile. They might have had a rough week and you don’t want to be labeled as those jerk kinds of customers so you nod at her and leave your parasol at the entrance.

“Oh my god.” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands when you notice that your umbrella was gone from the parasol stand, another customer possibly mistaking their umbrella for yours. You sigh in defeat. “You know what, heck it. I could care less at this point.” You pull up your hoodie, dashing your way back home, hoping you don’t end up getting sick from this careless situation you’ve put yourself into.

You stop in your tracks once again when you see a dashing-looking man standing in front of the gates of your house.

tall, well built, half and half colored hair that was wet and tangled, wearing a long and patterned coat, hands in his pockets… it felt as if he was waiting for someone to come out of your home.

Could this be…?

He was alerted by the sound of your steps rippling with the puddles in the pavement, turning to face you, his umbrella twirling with him.

His eyes grow wide at the sight of seeing you, and you notice his chest rise up, like a feeling of relief and of hope.

“(Y/N)…?”

“S-shoto?”

These are still the beautiful heterochromatic eyes you know and love. Only this time, it had a darker hue reflecting from his orbs. These are eyes who have seen and who have gone through so much.

You can’t even believe it.

Here he was, standing right in front of you. The boy you loved all those years ago.

Even more handsome, mature, and striking, and yet you could feel this broken emptiness radiating from him. Emotional scars that still run deep through him and… at this moment, you just want him to bare his heart to you. All this pain and suffering he has felt all these years.

You feel droplets of water sliding down your cheek like crystal teardrops.

“It’s really you…” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands due to your blissful bewilderment but Shoto rushes to you with his umbrella, shielding you from the storm.

He was a bit too close and you could feel the heat rush up to your cheeks again, a feeling you have not experienced in so many years.

“Ah. I’m sorry.” He steps back a little from you and you can hear yourself internally monologue “nooo” as he takes a few steps away. “It’s been 12 years isn’t it?” He catches your attention again.

“It is. Yeah...” You nod, still looking up at him, a certain twinkle in your eyes and an inexplicable feeling growing in your chest. “W-what brings you here?” You add, your voice soft and sweet, whether you did this on purpose or not will forever remain a question.

“My family… we’re moving back here.” He replies quickly. solemn, yet there was a tint of excitement in his tone. “My father thought it was best if my mother, my siblings and I lived in a different house than him after… all the pain that he made us go through… and so… here we are.”

“Oh! Would you like to come inside and have some coffee?” You ask, pointing your finger to your humble abode. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” You giggle jokingly, trying to keep the atmosphere light and warm despite the cold weather present around you.

You start heading to the direction of your house, knowing that Shoto will follow you inside until… 

he grabs you by the arm, enveloping and pulling you in for a tight yet soft and comforting hug. A feeling that you’ve been wistfully longing for such a long time. 

A feeling that only Shoto Todoroki could give.

“I missed you so much (Y/N)… can you share your happiness again with me?”

In the midst of the rainy summer season that brought nothing but dim and grey skies, wet and damp atmosphere, and endless floods of sorrow, you were his spring. The rosebud opening in the watery sunshine.

The whimsical girl with grass-stained knees running around the meadow with him… like a prophecy telling him that new beginnings were about to come, your personality and your appearance reminded him of the cherry blossom trees that symbolized a time of renewal.

You were the rainbow after a storm. Spreading light and color to those around her…

The one who brought back light and color to his life again.

 “from all the memories stored in my heart”

I only picked up and connected the ones of you.”

  ೃ taglist: @chibishae34  @lovelytarou​ @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy @laudthingcat​

[aellynera]

Goddess (Orestes x Reader)

GODDESS

(Hi. I wrote an Orestes story - it started as a joke about the way Apocalypse says “my goddess”, and then I was like “oh man I want Orestes to call me his goddess” and then as usual, I don’t know how, but this happened. It’s rather different than most things I write, but I quite enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4400

Summary: Orestes is a constant in your life and has a particular way of constantly reminding you.

Warnings: Mentions of character death (briefly described but not graphically.) Implied female reader. Definite probable historical inaccuracies taken for poetic license and dramatic effect. ANGST (I made myself cry while I was writing this.) Christians doing morally void but historically accurate things. Fictional timelines.

When you are four years old, your parents leave everything they’ve built in Rome - their jobs in the palace, their lives in the city, your father’s position on the council -upon the orders of the Emperor and move to Alexandria. Your father’s new role is to assist in turning that city into a bastion of the Empire, to help strengthen the government and support the supremacy of Rome. Your mother is to be a gentle guide to the women, in hearth and home and higher society. And because you are theirs, you go with them.

They meet with the prefect upon your arrival and he welcomes your family. He is bright and cheerful, yet loud and pompous and booming, stern but wise, and while he is a kind man, his volume frightens you. You cower behind your mother’s skirts, steadfastly clinging to her and  refusing to join in any pleasantries.

Another woman suddenly appears, a small boy with curly hair and bright dark eyes holding her hand. The boy regards you curiously and asks why you won’t come out and say hello. His mother tells him you’re shy, while your mother encourages you to release your death grip on her gown. Finally, after much coaxing, you relent and she pushes you gently towards the little boy.

His mother says you should go play in the garden while the grown-ups talk, and he reaches a tiny hand out to you, wide-eyed and smiling. His name is Orestes, and he is six.

And when you take his hand with a shy little smile, his voice comes out as a whisper and tells you he thinks you’re a goddess, and he drags you towards the garden to show you the little blue flowers that dot the grass, and you believe him.

***

When you are eight years old, one day you finish your chores early and decide to spend your extra time in the yard, weaving some wildflowers together into a chain while the mid-afternoon sun warms your shoulders.

You are quite happy to be alone and not around the grown-ups for now; they’re so loud, sometimes too loud. You crave the quiet, seek it out often, and you bask in it.

Until a rush of dark curls and bright eyes tears past your house, into your yard, and grabs you by the hand, knocking your flower chain carelessly to the ground. He insists you come play with him on the hill nearby and with a squeal of indignation, you let yourself be dragged along behind him.

Your ire over the discarded flower chain is soon forgotten as your squeals become laughter as you roll and roll down the hill together, grass and dirt sticking to your robes and tufts sticking to his unruly curls. 

When you tell him he looks silly, he tells you he doesn’t, and you insist that he does and he protests that he doesn’t. And so it goes back and forth and back again, until you push him or he pushes you or someone pushes the other and you both go tumbling down that hill, end over head over feet, your descent only stopped by a patch of mud at the bottom.

He might be the son of the prefect, and he might be your best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enormous brat sometimes.

For a minute you’re both panting and red-faced and near tears, until he starts to giggle and you can’t help but join in, and only laugh harder at his outraged gasp when you hit him square in the chest with a chunk of mud.

And on the way back to your house, when you’re worrying your bottom lip thinking on how to explain to your mother why you’re covered in dead grass and damp bits of dirt, your robes most likely ruined, he tells you with the kind of confidence only possessed by a boy of ten years that everything will be fine, because you are a goddess and brave and strong, and you believe him.

***

When you are twelve years old, you hear of the school that Hypatia is running, because Orestes tells you about it when he starts going. You don’t like that he’s doing something without you. You don’t like being left behind and left out and you want to go to this school too. 

Your mother would easily say yes, but your father is reluctant, and it’s not that he thinks a woman shouldn’t learn philosophy and how to read and do arithmetic; it’s  more that enough other people in the city do think like this and he is convinced it will not be safe for you.

You care little for your safety. All you want, all you desire, is to be part of this group of scholars and to go to this school and learn. And what danger can possibly be there, when a woman is the one in charge?

So you beg and plead and bargain with your father, until a boy - now a young man - with curls like nighttime and eyes nearly as dark and twinkling with stars, steps in and says he’ll watch over you during your classes, and your father gives his permission. And so you start attending Hypatia’s school.

And when the older boys, boys who were nearly men and should know better, start to bully and deride you for desiring knowledge, when they taunt you and steal your scrolls and yank the ribbons from your hair, he steps in and tells them in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. Neither of your fathers, especially his, are particularly thrilled with the tussles he gets in on your behalf, or the black eye that one petulant snipe Cyrus gives him when he connects a punch when Orestes isn’t properly paying attention.

You frown at him as he sits in a chair next to the washbasin, a clean wet cloth clutched in your hand. He winces as you clean the blood from his cheek and gingerly probe the bruise swelling around his eye.

And when you softly ask why he’d do such a stupid thing, he tells you that even a goddess needs a hero to protect them sometimes, and even though you think him entirely ridiculous and heat comes unbidden to your cheeks, it makes you giddy to believe him.

***

When you are sixteen years old, you watch the boy with the wild ebony curls and liquid chocolate eyes fall in love with a girl. Only it isn’t a girl, it’s a woman, and you realize he’s been doing it for years.

Ever since your first day in the new city, he has always been by your side and you by his, an inseparable duo. You thought that would never change, but here you are, finding yourself forced to watch your best friend slowly but surely let his heart be ensnared by your very own teacher.

All he can talk about now, it seems, is Hypatia and her philosophies; Hypatia and her scrolls and the amazing things she is currently reading; Hypatia and her outlandish theories on the universe and the stars. Always Hypatia, all things Hypatia.

You never knew you could hate someone as amazing and wonderful as Hypatia.

It doesn’t seem to matter that his attentions are not equally returned, that she never fully indulges his lovesick whims and overreaching attempts to gain her attention. She continues to treat him as a student, and outside of class possibly even as a dear friend, and he continues to pine.

One afternoon you’re among the stacks of scrolls at the library, trying to find the parchment necessary to complete an assignment Hypatia has given you. You honestly would rather not find it and not even bother finishing your assigned work right now, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he takes the scroll you’re clutching from your hand and leads you to a mostly hidden nook in the room. And he stops talking about Hypatia for a moment to ask you what is wrong.

You want to tell him you miss him, that you want him back, that he’s making a mistake, but you can’t, you don’t. It takes a bit more coaxing, but you finally tell him you’re lonely and you wish there was someone you could find, someone you had to love as much as he had his person, he smiles and tells you that one day you will, because you’re a goddess and the right person will be pulled to the love and light you always emit. You smile back weakly and blink and look away and you want nothing more than to believe him.

***

When you are twenty years old, the library at Alexandria is destroyed.

It happens on a sunny afternoon not unlike so many others that have passed before, when suddenly the doors are broken down and the Christians rush in and the chaos ensues.

You’re sitting at a table with a quill in your hand, carefully writing your thoughts on a piece of parchment, when you hear the shouting in the entryway. And before you know what’s going on, shelves are being knocked over, papers tossed into the air like so much confetti, scrolls being thrown left and right. The air is beginning to smell acrid; you can see a few people setting small fires in some of the stacks.

The windows above you shatter as others throw rocks and even a chair, and you look around wildly for a way out. You don’t know which way is the right way to go, or even if there is a right way to go.

Everything is madness.

A pair of arms suddenly shoot out and grab you around the waist and your scream pierces the air like the horn on the top of the lighthouse trying to guide a ship to shore. Instead you realize you’re trying to drive this ship to its ruin, to free yourself from its depths with wildly swinging elbows and kicks, until you hear a familiar voice shouting your name over the ruckus.

You take in your assailant, all frantic curls and impossibly wide, dark eyes, and collapse into him in relief. Orestes tells you that you need to go, you need to get out, and to find both your fathers in the nearby council chambers and they’ll know where to go, where it’s safe. You ask him to come with you, but he shakes his head.

He tells you he needs to help save as many of the books and scrolls as he can, and you tell him to give you all you can carry and when you run, you’ll take them with you. So he loads your arms full to bursting, and when a rock flies by inches from your face and you drop the items at the top of the pile, he ignores that and pushes you roughly in the direction of the side exit. He says you must leave now, and he’ll be behind you before you know it.

He presses his lips to your temple ever so briefly, spares you a pained smile, and says you’re a goddess for the small bit of assistance you are giving.

As you run for safety, or what might be further peril, you spare a glance over your shoulder and see him helping Hypatia grab as much of the library’s contents as they can, and you don’t have another second to spare on deciding whether or not to believe him.

***

When you are twenty four, it’s your wedding day and everyone tells you this will be the most joyous day of your life so far. Your mother helps you dress in the softest, most expensively beautiful gown you’ve ever owned, and one of your sisters weaves a crown of laurels for your hair. Another sister makes a chain of wildflowers to wind around your wrist. You have never felt as beautiful as you do on this day.

Your father comes to the door of the chamber where your preparations are taking place, to let you know that the guests have all arrived and the groom is nearly ready, and it is almost time. He gives you a kiss on both cheeks, a gesture not common from him, and tells you he will be waiting out by the garden gate when you are ready. Your mother and sisters each kiss your cheek and leave as well, giving you a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and emotionally prepare for the ceremony.

The door opens again a few minutes later and you turn to face the person behind it, Your eyes go wide, confused, as you take in the man before you. His dark curls are smoothed back and elegantly styled, his robes are regal and dashing, and his eyes are bright and nervous.

You tell him he shouldn’t be here.

He tells you that he knows, but he can’t help it, he has to see you. That he has been thinking of you all morning, wondering how beautiful you look, how happy you must be, and he just had to see you before you walk down the aisle to take your vows.

You bite your lip and tell him, again, that he shouldn’t be here and you can’t stop your voice from shaking. You turn your head away and look anywhere but at him.

And he repeats that he knows this, and he knows it’s wrong, it goes against all protocols, but he can’t help himself, can’t stop thinking that this is the last time he’s going to see you, see your smile and maybe hear your laugh, might be the last time your eyes can gaze upon each other and the last time he can hold you in his arms as his best friend.

You can’t think of a single thing to say to him, and even if you could, you’re certain your body will not cooperate.

Because he is not the one you are marrying. No, this marriage was arranged by your father and the Emperor, and there is the overwhelming chance that you must go back to Rome, and if you and your new husband leave Alexandria it is not likely you will ever return.

This might be the last time he can tell you that you shine with a light brighter than all the heavens, that you are beautiful and he hopes you will be happy, and you truly are a goddess among mortals.

And so Orestes does. He kisses you softly on your forehead, staying there a bit longer than propriety suggests, and quietly slips from the room. And you can’t see for the tears swimming in your eyes, and you want with all your heart to believe him, but you can’t help but find his words hollow and realize this will be far from the greatest day of your life.

***

When you are barely turned twenty-five, there is a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Perhaps knock is not the correct word, it’s more of an insistent pounding, and you swear under your breath at what could possibly be so important to rouse you out of bed at this unacceptable hour.

You pull a robe over your nightdress and open the door, and all the air leaves your lungs.

Four centurions are standing on your stoop, with a man who looks vaguely familiar; is he a general, maybe, or a captain? You can’t remember where you’ve seen him before, but it doesn’t matter, when he greets you solemnly and begins to speak, and tells you that your husband will not be returning from the front.

You did not return to Rome, as had originally been decreed. You stayed in Alexandria after your marriage because skirmishes had broken out along a few of the empire’s borders, and your new husband was called to action to fight for his ruler and the kingdom. Deep down, you could not have been more glad of it, for though you were born there, Rome had not been your home for over twenty years, and starting a new life there with a new husband would not have made it any more so. 

Your knees give out from under you and you consider for a moment that you should be crying, but you aren’t really sad and it strikes you as odd, but you can’t force the tears to come. You love your husband, in a way, but you’re not sad that he won’t be coming home. You’re relieved, and the instant that thought hits you and sends a jolt through your body, you start to laugh. The general, or captain, or whoever he is and his guards look at each other, then at you, and back to each other in utter confusion as you continue to giggle.

It all happens in mere seconds, and you’re sinking to the stone floor beneath, and a very familiar voice, one you have not heard since the day you were wed, tells the guards to stand aside and strong arms catch you before you can tumble completely.

His hair is wild and curly like he was just pulled out of bed himself, and his dark eyes shine with worry and compassion, and he asks you if you’re alright, and this is what finally breaks you from your laughter and brings wetness to your eyes.

Orestes holds you as you cry into his chest and you don’t see the pointed look he gives to the captain and the guards, nor do you see them pull back enough to close the door and wait outside.

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor in the front hall, or how you’ve possibly gotten his robes that soggy, but eventually you calm and the thoughts roll through your brain again. You are crying because someone has died, you realize this is true even if you’re not so very sad it was your husband. You’re crying because it was your husband and now there will be the mourning period you must dutifully attend as a grieving widow. And now that you’re a widow, eventually you will be expected to take another husband, if one even dares to want you.

And you’re crying because the one reason you were glad to stay in this forsaken city - in the Alexandria which had become your home - the one reason you hoped every day to lay eyes on again and every night resigned that you never would, was suddenly here, his arms wrapped around you and his voice whispering words of comfort into your hair.

You’re not sure when he picks you up and carries you back to your bed, carefully laying you on your pillows and pulling the sheet up to cover your shoulders. You’re not sure how long he stays, holding your hand and brushing stray tendrils of hair from your face. And you’re not sure how long you drift in and out, emotional exhaustion finally catching up and pulling you into nothingness, but before you fade out completely, you feel his thumb gently brush the remaining tears from your cheek, and feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead as he calls you a goddess and tells you to rest.

And as you finally give yourself to the twilight, you aren’t sure if you imagined it, but you choose to believe him, and you cling to it.

***

You’re not sure when it happens, to be honest. Time starts to blend together after that, you just know that you’re older and that it happens, and it isn’t right and it isn’t moral and it isn’t fair. Not to anyone involved, not to the city, not at all.

Hypatia has died, been murdered in the temple at the hands of those who profess themselves to be righteous saviors, brutally stoned and ripped apart as she stood there, proud and defiant to the end. How anyone could do such a thing to another human, especially one such as her, is beyond your comprehension.

It only gets worse when they burn her corpse on a pyre in effigy in the middle of the agora.

Word comes to you of the horrible events, and your first instinct is to find him, the way he found you, came to you when word of your husband’s death made its way back to the city. You set down the parchment you’re scribbling on the desk in your room and grab a dark cloak, partly to conceal yourself and party to ward off the slight chill from the wind.

You make your way to the prefect’s palace but you’re turned away at the gate by pair of surly-looking guards, and giving your name, and then your father’s name, and then the fact that your father reports directly to Rome makes no difference to them. They have  been told to let no one in, and let no one out.

No one except the person you’re looking for, apparently, because somewhere in the aftermath you discover that Orestes is nowhere to be found.

No one knows where he’s gone, and no one knows when he left, just that it was sometime between Hypatia being murdered and the fake funeral pyre. He had words with Cyril, someone told you, and then after that, no one knows.

And the Christians take over the city, much like the library so many years ago, and more people are burned at the stake, more people are murdered, more progress is halted, all in the name of what is right and what is true.

They will kill you, too, if they find you, or find out you’re looking for Orestes. It’s been years since you’ve really been in his presence in anything but the smallest of ways, especially in public, but you know there are still enough people who know how close you were. And if they know you used to be close, you know they won’t hesitate to come after you the same way they came for the philosopher. 

So you make inquiries as discreetly as possible, ask the gossips that litter the merchants’ stalls in the most innocent way possible, like you’re just a curious citizen asking what’s happened to the rule of order in the city. You even ask your father, once, but he doesn’t reply and his stony gaze makes you certain to never ask again.

And you bury yourself in scrolls and reading, in star charts and theories; in anything, really, that will take your mind off everything that is happening and your lost prefect. Your lost friend, your best friend.

The man you truly love, even if it’s taken you years of self-doubt and missed chances to fully realize and admit it, and now, perhaps do something about it.

One day as you’re sitting at your desk, quill in hand and head in the clouds, you think of something. Something that may be nothing, but it comes to you in a flash and you have an idea of where to go, where to find him, somewhere that few others might know.

You carefully pack a bag with some clothes and supplies, and a crudely drawn map that you sketch from memory and hope you’ve gotten right. It’s been so long since you were there but you’re fairly sure you remember the way. You know that Orestes would remember.

A long day’s journey and a fitful night’s sleep take you into the next day, and the afternoon turns into dusk when the hillside comes into view. It is not the same hill you tumbled down more than once when the two of you got into a scrum, but it’s the one that you would go when you could both sneak away and no one would notice for a few days, and you’d stare at clouds by day and the stars by night.

There is an outcropping set back from the hill, in the base of the mountains nearby, that a person wouldn’t see if they didn’t know where to look. You’d found it one day during a particularly vicious thunderstorm and taken refuge in the cave there, and you’d both commented on how someone had clearly found it once before you, for it was somewhat set up as a living space, with some mats and blankets and  a few rations left on makeshift shelves. Anytime you were on these excursions and it would rain, or you simply wanted to be out of the sun, that was where you would go.

And you hope against hope that this is where your answer lies.

You crest the hill and make your way to the foot of the mountain and you can’t help but smile, just a little, thinking this is where he would have gone, should have gone, as his name means of the mountains. In his abandonment, his escape from the city, could he have taken it literally? You’ve known him so long and it feels like the kind of thing Orestes would do.

The hovel comes into view, and you drop your pack, because he does too. Tending to a fire at the mouth of the cave, his back turned slightly to you, his curls a glorious disaster, and he’s grown a beard since last you’d seen him. It’s a look you’ve not seen on him before, but you quite like it, although you consider for just a moment you’d like any look on him at this moment, because he is real and he is standing right in front of you.

The sound of the pack hitting the ground makes him turn, and his dark eyes shine in the firelight, and he looks at you for long moments but doesn’t say anything. Orestes just stares at you, disbelieving, like you might be some kind of mirage or a trick of the light or even some kind of wicked spirit sent to torment him, and so he just stares.

Until you breathe his name.

He blinks once, and his face is suddenly full of hope and relief, all the tension and disbelief of the previous moments falling away, and your heart soars to the heavens and thumps ever so boldly in your chest, and your smile threatens to crack your lips, and the tears fall freely as words finally leave his mouth.

“My goddess.”

~end~

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[yandere-society]

The Devil in the ICU

Pairing:

Synopsis: You’ve rarely spoken to your neighbor Jimin, but he’s always been kind to you. When you get into an accident that lands you in the ER, you’re grateful to see who’s taking such good care of you. It isn’t until later that you start to wonder… will you ever be leaving the hospital?

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Blood, murder/death, yandere themes, stalking themes, needles/IVs

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

Request:

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fist, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

~Three weeks earlier~

Taehyung, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looks as handsome as the day you married him. “Have a good day at work!”

You give him a quick kiss, shivering in the brisk morning air. “You too. Remember that we have that dinner tonight!”

Tae laughs. “Is that what we’re calling the awards ceremony? You know you’ve earned bragging rights.”

“Shush!” You boop him on the nose before turning and making for your car. On the other side of the fence, you can see your neighbor Jimin step out onto his porch. He catches your eye and, as Taehyung goes back inside, you smile amicably and nod at Jimin before getting into your car. You see him at his front door every morning, and he’s always friendly.

On your drive to the university campus, you think about tonight’s dinner. You’ll be presented with an awards for Arts Education despite being one of the youngest professors in the university’s faculty. You were thrilled when the dean of the school contacted you for the honor.

Once you park, you speedwalk to your first class of the day and burst through the door. You soon find yourself looking at twenty students, some bright-eyed, some more zombie-like.

“I’d apologize for being late,” you say, “But at this point I don’t think anyone is surprised.” The more awake students laugh, and you sling your bag onto your desk at the front of the room. “Let’s get started. Yoongi, you’re up first for workshop. Why don’t you stand up and read?”

Of all of your students, you think Yoongi is the most likely to pursue his career in creative writing. 

He nods and stands. You can see his hands trembling as he clutches the paper. 

When he sits back down after reading his poem, there’s a smattering of applause. “Very nice,” you say. “Now, who’d like to offer their feedback?”

~~~

Hours later, you dismiss your last class. You can’t wait to go home and tell Taehyung all about your day.

“So this one kid really decided the best move, instead of asking for an extension, was to plagiarize Twilight. Fucking Twilight!” 

Taehyung laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What did you tell her?”

“Ugh, I hate to report anyone for plagiarism, I told her to write something new and turn it in for half credit.”

“No wonder your students love you. I think you’re personally responsible for all of the creative writing majors on campus.”

You finish zipping up your dress. “Probably. Let’s get going, yeah?” 

“Your wish, my command,” Taehyung says, gallantly bowing you out the door. You giggle as he opens the passenger side door for you. “For real, Y/n, want to get away for a weekend to celebrate? This is a nationally recognized award!”

“Hm…” you pretend to think. “Maybe we could go somewhere warm and sunny, with lots of beaches.”

Taehyung interlaces his fingers with yours, lifts your hand to his mouth, and kisses your palm. “Whatever you want. Christmas is coming up, maybe we can travel somewhere for the winter.”

You smile and look out of the window as Taehyung begins the drive. The ceremony is being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. And in a few weeks, you’ll be spending Christmas with the love of your life somewhere warm.

Under the twinkling night sky, everything feels so peaceful. Suddenly, you see a flash of light overhead. “Tae! A shooting star! Look-”

BANG. You hear the sound of crunching metal, feel a violent jerk, and everything goes dark.

~~~

“When she wakes up, start her on 20 milligrams of morphine. If her blood pressure is still low, go ahead and add saline to the IV. She shouldn’t need a transfusion unless anything opens up again.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor. Are you in the hospital, then? Was there an accident? “Ugh…” You blink hard in the blinding light. You’re woozy, and your mouth tastes like copper.

“Y/n! Doctor, she’s awake!” You hear a familiar voice, and feel a hand grip your own.

“M-Mom?”

“Y/n. Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Your mom’s voice is strained and thick, as though she’s been crying. When your eyes finally focus on her, she’s sniffling, and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s wearing a formal black dress – did she come straight from the ceremony?

“What happened?” You croak.

“You were in an accident,” your mom says, her voice breaking. “A bad one. We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

You wince. That doesn’t make sense, and the cost of a hospital stay isn’t in your budget. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

Your mother is silent for a moment too long, and you feel your chest grow tight. “Mom, where is Taehyung? He was in the car with me!”

“He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” your mom whispers. “The doctors did everything they could.”

No. “You’re lying.” Of course she is, she has to be, he’s your husband, he can’t be gone. “Don’t lie. He’s fine.” 

“Y/n, baby…” 

“No!” You weakly pull your hand from her grip. Angry tears form and begin to spill down your swollen, tender cheeks. “You’re lying!” Please, you beg inside your head, please be lying. Not Taehyung. He’s healthy, strong, smart, he has to be fine. 

You can see unshed tears shining in your mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t going that fast,” you say desperately. “It can’t have been bad.”

“You broke a leg and a rib, fractured your collarbone, and punctured your lung,” Your mother says quietly. “They said you were lucky to have no brain damage.”

You sit back, stunned. It’s true, you’re wrapped in bandages and the parts of your skin that you can see are black and blue. When you lift the blanket, you can see a small clear tube protruding from your chest. Still, it’s impossible. You had only been driving for a few minutes. “What happened? The accident?”

“I-It was a hit-and-run,” your mother responds shakily. “They T-boned your car and drove away. There were witnesses, but no cameras and nobody got a license plate. They put out a notice for the car.”

You swallow. Despite your injuries, it seems like you’re unable to feel anything at all. Please, no… 

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Y/n?” You look up and through the dark fog in your head you feel a tinge of shock.

Standing in front of you, wearing blue scrubs and a mask, is… your neighbor.

“Jimin?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I just need to adjust your IV – are you in pain?”

“No- yes.” As soon as the word escapes your mouth, feeling spills back into your body. Fuck. Suddenly you can’t breathe, your chest feels like it’s on fire, and your leg… “It hurts really badly.”

“Let me increase the morphine dosage.” He steps towards the machines and IV to which you’re hooked up and fiddles with some buttons.

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped on Taehyung. You refuse to believe it, and so you refuse to grieve. “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you say to Jimin. Your voice sounds like a robotic copy of itself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your mother glancing at you with worry.

“I’m not, I’m a nurse,” he replies. 

“You take good care of her, you hear?” Your mom says to Jimin, clearly understanding your silent signal not to bring up Taehyung. She was lying – he has to be fine.

Jimin nods firmly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be up and about soon, but for now she needs rest.”

As your mom rises slowly from her chair beside your bed, she grasps Jimin’s hand in hers. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I will.”

Once your mom leaves, your eyelids feel heavy. Your brain is foggy with distorted thoughts of Taehyung. Why can’t you remember anything? “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Jimin supplies.

That surprises you. “It’s been hours.” 

“It has.” “Do you know what happened to the awards ceremony?”

“The… what?”

Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? You sink as far as you can into your pillow, wishing only that it would suffocate you. It feels like there’s an all-consuming black hole in your chest, clawing at every part of you. Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimin says gravely. “I met him several times. He was a very kind man.”

“He’s not gone,” you reply stubbornly. He can’t be. “I just need to get better and get home.” Tae will be there.

Jimin pauses. “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“The doctor will be back in soon,” Jimin adds. “I can give you something to help you sleep after.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” After everything that’s happened, you don’t think you can ever sleep again. At least, not until you’re with Taehyung. Surely, the doctor will be able to tell you the truth. 

The doctor comes in, a middle-aged Black woman who introduces herself as Dr. Greene. She walks you through your injuries and the path to recovery. “Luckily, they could have been a lot worse,” she says, eyeing your chart appreciatively. “You should be discharged in two weeks, give or take. After that, it’ll be a while still with your leg in a cast. You’ll have to come back for more check-ups. And as soon as your lung heals, we want you to start physical therapy to counteract all the bed rest. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where is my husband?” You ask desperately. Behind Dr. Greene, you see Jimin’s face has turned stony. “He was in the car with me, his name is Kim Taehyung–”

“Your husband has passed away,” the doctor says simply, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

At last, with this authority figure having sealed his fate, you allow yourself to cry for Taehyung. Loud, animalistic sobs tear from your chest until your abused ribs and lungs can’t support you anymore and you collapse, screaming silently into hands that hurt to lift. 

“Y/n…”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! It should have been me.” The two of you were only on your way to the dinner because of you. It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. “It should have been me!”

You feel fingertips lightly touch your aching shoulder. From his earlier position near the doorway, Jimin is suddenly right next to you. “No, it shouldn’t have. And it’s not your fault, Y/n,” he says. 

“Grief is natural and necessary, really, for the healing process,” Dr. Greene adds. “But Nurse Jimin is right, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She looked back at her chart. “Jimin, you’re on call for the night, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep an eye on her pain levels. Y/n, if you’re uncomfortable or need anything during the night, press this button and Jimin will come check in on you, alright?”

You nod numbly. You don’t care. You hope you do die during the night, so you can at least be with Taehyung. 

Jimin leaves and returns in what feels like both an hour and two seconds, holding a clear bag full of liquid and a bottle of pills.

“Take one of these to help you sleep. This is for your blood pressure – it’s still low – and we’ve added more morphine.”

You simply hold out your hand for the bottle, shake out a pill, and swallow it down without water. Why would you need water when the love of your life is gone?

“Remember, press the button if you need anything,” Jimin says. “I’ll be right here for you.”

“Mm.” You turn over as much as you comfortably can and almost immediately fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

If only you were so lucky.

The crash. The moment of the shooting star. Over and over and over again.

“Y/n! Come on, baby, wake up!” You can’t see anything, but you can hear his voice. “They’ll be here soon, you have to hang on for me, okay?”

7.

“Help! Somebody help! No, she’s worse than me, hurry up!”

H.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” 

“Shit, he’s coding!”

L.

“Y/n?” You feel yourself being gently shaken, and still half-dreaming, your body gives a great shudder from the accident. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just need to take your vitals.”

“Blue,” you reply, barely able to form the word. You saw it. “The car was blue.” 

When you look up, you realize that it’s not Jimin, but a nurse you’ve never seen before. She pauses for a moment, clearly perplexed, before she blinks.

“Oh! You were in a car accident?”

“The car was blue,” you continue, scared to lose the thought. You’re a professor of writing at a top university, you should be able to express yourself more fluently. But your words seem to escape you before you can capture them. “License 7-H-L.”

“Oh, my… the nurse looks around before grabbing a pen clipped to her scrubs and scribbling the numbers onto a notepad beside you. “You’re a regular detective!”

“Where’s Jimin?” You ask. You don’t know this new nurse, but at least you trust Jimin.

“Oh, his shift ended,” she replies. “He’ll be back tonight! In the meantime, can you tell me how you feel?”

“I’m… dizzy. My heart…” You can hear it pounding hard in your ears, far too quickly, and leaving you lightheaded. Your whole body hurts, centralized in your leg and chest, far worse than last night.

“Your blood pressure must have gone back to normal, let me get that saline off for you. How’s the pain? Your morphine should have worn off by now.”

You wince. “Bad.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust that.” The nurse fiddles with your IV before turning back to you. “I think your mother will be here soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually… can you tell her not to come?” A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, but it’s overpowered by the darkness already inside. “I just want to sleep today. She shouldn’t bother.” You pause. “I don’t want any visitors.” “Ah- sure thing, whatever you’d like,” the nurse chirps hesitantly. “Oh, and… what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse points. “You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident. Hey, maybe when you get out you can try a new style!”

“Yeah, maybe.” You lay back down and stare at the ceiling, wishing only that it would fall apart and crush you. What’s the point of anything without Taehyung? But… what about your students, your classes?

The day passes in a blur, and your intermittent napping keeps you barely aware of your surroundings. You don’t dream of the crash again – it’s a blessing, but at the same time you wish you could remember the rest of the license plate. You finally awaken for real once dusk has settled on the hospital.

You press the button, and immediately Jimin is in your room. “What can I do for you, Y/n?”

You take a deep breath. “Can you please bring me a pad of paper and a pencil?” You were a teenager when your father passed away, and writing was the only thing that saved you then. Perhaps it will be your healing salve now.

“Sure, there’s paper right-” Jimin pauses beside your bed before handing you the pad of paper. “Here, sorry. And you can use one of my pens. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” you reply. You’re surprised by how weak your grip on the pencil feels. “Numb. It hurts, but…”

“I’ll make a note for the doctor. Don’t worry, I promised your mom that I’d help you get better. Your lung should be healing soon,” Jimin says. “But I need to change the bandages on your chest tube, if that’s okay?” “Yeah.” You forgot it was there, the clear tube coming out of your chest. It’s held in place with bandages, which Jimin carefully removes before cleaning off your skin and placing new ones down. He’s wearing a silver locket that you’ve never noticed before. It suits him, shining against his skin.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes taking your vitals. 

“I’m happy to help.”

The next week passes in a blur; between crying fits for Taehyung, assuring your mother that you’re alright, scribbling down everything on your mind, and forcing yourself to sleep simply to avoid the reality of waking hours, you barely have a second to consider your own healing process.

It isn’t until Dr. Greene beams at you that you register: physically, you’re feeling a lot better, and after a week of bed rest and god awful depression, you’re ready to try hobbling around. 

“Looks like you might actually get out a few days early,” Dr. Greene says. “We’ll be able to remove that chest tube tonight.” Beside you, your mother begins crying with relief. 

“Wonderful.” It’s still hard to smile, but you manage a weak attempt. Later that day, you hear a bit of commotion in the hallway, and soon the nurse brings in a huge basket of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals.

“Woah… what’s all this?” With effort, you sit up and take the offered basket. The sweet smell of the flowers is a welcome change to the cold sanitation of the hospital. 

“From your students!” The nurse says happily. “Some even sent you books!”

“Aww, they’re sweet.” You flip through one of the books and notice that all your advisees have signed the title page and scribbled well-wishes in the margins of the chapters. Their kindness and love sparks your first real smile since the accident.

You spend the day reading, counting down the hours until your chest tube is removed. When you’re finally wheeled to the OR and numbed up so they can sew the hole in your chest shut, you feel relief. Your leg is still in a cast, but at least your body is fighting for you. 

That night, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel a painful tugging on your chest, right where your stitches are. “Mm?” You blink sleepily and see Jimin’s silhouette standing over you.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m sanitizing your wound so it heals well, don’t mind me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little sore,” you reply honestly. “It’s not too bad, though.” “Let me fix that for you.” You can see Jimin’s dark figure change something on your IV. “That’ll help you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling sleep begin to overtake you.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/n.” That night, your dreams are choppy and chaotic. At one point, you dream that your body is on fire; at another, you’re back in the accident but instead of Taehyung, it’s Jimin. The sun has barely risen before you bolt upwards. “Gah!” Your throat is burning, dry, painful – it feels like you’ve swallowed sand.

It must be extra early, because Jimin is still there. He rushes to your bedside. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I- who are you? I need… water…” you croak, your vision swimming before you. You don’t know who this man is, and you don’t know where you are. You can vaguely feel yourself falling backwards.

“Okay, let me get you some- wait, Y/n!”

~~~

You awaken with Jimin, Dr. Greene, and another nurse standing over you. Packed in bed beside you are several ice packs. Even so, you feel your body sweating. 

“What… happened?” You manage. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“You woke up with a bad fever. It’s lucky Jimin thought fast and worked to cool you down.” Dr. Greene said. “We’ll have to keep you monitored for longer than we anticipated.”

“W-Why do I have a fever?”

Dr. Greene’s brows knit together. “I… I’m not sure. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next couple of days and see if anything changes.”

Your fever goes up and down throughout the day, occasionally spiking dangerously enough that the monitors around you begin to beep in alarm. Around noon, Jimin comes in with water and a bottle of pills. He’s wearing a lopsided Santa hat along with his scrubs.

“Merry almost-Christmas. Here, take two for the fever.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask weakly. Even in your fever-addled mind, you remember he only comes at night.

“My shift changed. You need more urgent care anyways, and I volunteered.”

You swallow down the pills and nod. “Thanks.”

“Your bruises have improved,” Jimin observes, lightly touching your face.

“I guess. Fuck.” You feel the sudden urge to douse yourself in cold water. “I just want to get out of here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Have they found the car that hit you?”

“How would I know?” You feel a wave of dizziness hit you, likely brought on by a heartbeat that never seems to slow down. “Jimin, please…” Save me.

“We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now, you should stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Favorite food?” You can barely think. “Sushi.”

Jimin grins. “Favorite neighbor?”

You try to summon a chuckle. “Whichever one is saving my life.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you later tonight. Your mother should be in here soon – let me adjust your pain meds, we kept you off of them from the fever but they might just help.”

The night feels eternal; you can’t sleep a wink, and your mother stays with you the whole night. Your fever continues to climb and although at first your breathing is rapid to cool you down, by the time the sun rises it feels as though your lungs have stopped working entirely. You don’t know if that’s normal for a fever.

“Doctor!” Your mother calls for what feels like the thousandth time. 

Dr. Greene hurries into the room, Jimin right behind her. “Is it her fever?”

“No, it’s…” Your mother points wordlessly at your hands. You can’t see what she’s talking about, but when you raise your hands you see your fingertips are blue. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You don’t care. Everything is fuzzy, so fuzzy… the monitors are beeping again, but you can barely hear them. You’re gasping for air now, choking on nothing. You can’t breathe.

“Doctor Greene,” Jimin says loudly, “I think she’s overdosing.”

“Lord, you may be right. Get the Narcan!”

Jimin darts out of the room and returns just as your eyes begin to flutter closed. Taehyung… 

~~~

There’s a cliff. Taehyung is there, you know it. You just need to jump. The moment you start walking, though, it’s almost as if you’re being pulled away from the edge. No! You open your eyes. Has it been minutes? Days?

“Dear god,” your mother says breathlessly. “She’s awake.”

“How on earth…?” Dr. Greene wonders, wiping her forehead. “Jimin, props to you for your quick thinking. But an overdose? How?”

“Doctor, it’s possible that with her weakness and weight loss, plus the fact that we held off the morphine for several days, an average dose might have caused her to OD.” Jimin suggests. His voice seems to carry more authority than even Dr. Greene’s.

“Yes, perhaps… but the fever?”

“Hm…” Jimin reaches forward and prods at the stitches on your chest. You immediately flinch, your raspy voice yelping in pain. “An infection. Possibly blood poisoning.”

“You know, you really might be right,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. Okay, we’ll start you on an antibacterial and switch to lower-grade painkillers.” With this note, Dr. Greene and Jimin file out, leaving you with your mother.

“Momma, did you ever find the car?” You ask, gripping her hand urgently. The owner of that car killed your husband; you want them brought to justice.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“What about the license plate?”

“Well, none of the witnesses saw it-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I- the nurse wrote it down. On…” you point to the notepad beside you. “The first page.”

Your mother picks up the abused pad of paper, filled with random journal entries and doodles, and flips to the front. “Y/n, there’s nothing here. It’s blank. Maybe you dreamed it?”

“What? No.” You’re sure that the nurse wrote it down for you. “Check on the floor.”

After a brief but thorough search, the paper doesn’t turn up. What had happened? You can’t possibly remember the partial plate now. Shit. And even so, it was a literal fever dream – you could have made the numbers up.

“Y/n, I’m going to go for an early Christmas dinner at Aunt Ella’s, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?” 

“Sure, mom.” She’s barely slept, after all. 

The next several days pass and you gradually begin to recover. The lab tests confirmed your blood poisoning, and you feel more grateful than ever that Jimin managed to catch it early – it could have killed you. It’s now been more than two weeks since the accident, and finally the doctor tells you that you’ll be ready to go home soon. As Christmas approaches, you’ve heard holiday music float through the air and bows and wreaths appear in your hospital room and down the hall. Even with the holiday cheer, the loss of the license plate weighs heavy on your mind.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Time to get up and try walking around!” The afternoon nurse says cheerfully as she helps you out of bed. With your heavy green cast making your leg feel detached, you clunk around while holding the nurse’s arm. You near the window, which overlooks a parking lot decorated with dirty snow, and gaze down onto the cars. Can you ever feel safe in a car again?

“Which one’s yours?” You ask the nurse absentmindedly, suddenly struck by another bolt of grief. Her life is normal. She has a car and goes to work.

“That white one right there next to the blue Prius,” she replies, pointing. You mindlessly follow her finger, when suddenly –

Blue. You clutch at your chest and stumble backwards, nearly falling if she hadn’t caught you. “That’s…” No, it can’t be. But in your heart and deep, deep in your memory… “Can you read the plate number on that blue car next to yours?”

“Uh, it’s a little too far away,” she replies, squinting. “I think it’s Jimin,’s though, I always see him pulling in just as my shift is over.”

Jimin. “Does it look dented at all?” You manage. “His car?”

“Ah… a little? I’m not sure.”

Jimin does have a blue Prius, you know that from seeing it in his driveway every day. So why, today, did the thought strike you so violently?

“You know, I think I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want some water or to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” The nurse looks worried, but leaves you settled back in your bed. Night falls quickly and you hear a knock on the door. Jimin lets himself in, a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Hey, I heard you’ll be getting discharged soon,” he says cheerfully. He’s still wearing the Santa hat.

Blue. “Yeah, hopefully.”

“Awesome. Well, you need to take these,” he says, shaking two pills from the bottle in his hand and handing them to you.”

“What are they for?”

“They’ll help you sleep and let your blood vessels dilate to regulate your blood pressure.”

“Mm.” You wash them down with his offered water. Almost as soon as you swallow, you feel your body rebel against you – you lean over and vomit onto the floor. The smell makes you gag and you feel everything you’ve eaten come up a second time, the stomach acid burning your throat.

“What- what did you give-” you can’t finish your sentence as your stomach convulses again. Jimin rushes over to you with a bucket and you lean into it, retching. You continue dry heaving long after your body is completely emptied, while Jimin rubs your back reassuringly. “G-get the doctor,” you croak.

“Are you going to be okay alone-?” “Yes. Please, just…” your body shivers as he gets up and leaves. What did he give you? You’re doubtless that those pills caused your vomiting. Just the thought sends you back to your bucket, although you’ve no more left to give. 

“What on earth happened?” Dr. Greene says, rushing in. Jimin is close behind her.

“He gave me pills…” you gasp as your body tries to vomit again. The muscle contractions leave you feeling boneless. “They made me throw up.”

“You’ve got no known allergies on file…” Dr. Greene says, consulting a chart by your bed. “Jimin, what did you give her?”

Jimin produces a bottle clearly labelled DOXEPINE. “Just to help her sleep, she was asking for something earlier.”

Your heart drops. “That’s not-” you’re interrupted by another gagging fit. You want to scream at your body that there’s nothing left, but you can barely speak. “Not the same-” fuck.

“She must have a sensitivity to the Doxepine,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “Jimin, make sure she stays hydrated. If she keeps throwing up we’ll need to keep her longer for observation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ngh… no…” Dr. Greene leaves before you can tell her that that wasn’t the same pill bottle.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin says, offering you a bottle of water.

“What did you give to me?” You ask, panting. As soon as the water touches your tongue you reach for the bucket, your body rejecting it immediately.

Jimin blinks innocently. “Sleeping pills.”

“Fuck off, that wasn’t the… same bottle.”

“Y/n, you’re sick and grieving, it’s understandable that your eyes are playing tricks on you-”

“No. You… poisoned me!” You summon what strength you have left and swipe at the nurse, who’s now leaning over you. Your fingers catch the silver chain around his neck, and the motion knocks the locket open.

Fluttering out of the locket and onto your bandaged chest is… hair?

No, not hair. Your hair. The color, and texture… it’s exactly the same.

You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident, the nurse had said.

Not from the accident. Almost in slow motion, your eyes travel up to meet Jimin’s. 

“Y/n, you’re acting erratic.” As if nothing happened, he plucks your hair from the bed, tucks it back into the locket, and straightens his Santa hat. “I’ll have to tell the doctor to consider sedatives. Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

“No-” Your stomach contracts once more and by the time you look up, gasping for breath, he’s gone.

You spend another sleepless night in the hospital, growing more paranoid by the minute. You refuse to eat or drink anything you’re given – you’re still nauseous, and what if it’s full of sedatives? 

When dawn breaks on Christmas Day, you’ve never felt less cheer. You’re concerned about Jimin; the car is surely a coincidence, but the hair? And the pills?

“Y/n?” Dr. Greene knocks on the door. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?”

“I want to get out of here,” you respond immediately.

Dr. Greene smiles. “We’ll see how you do moving around today. How’s your nausea?” 

“Better,” you lie. Anything to leave. You can handle nausea at home.

“Wonderful. Well, Nurse Jimin will be taking care of you today, since your other nurses are off duty. Press the button if you need anything.”

You nod, shivering. Should you tell Dr. Greene? Before you can consider it, though, she’s left the room.

Hours later, Jimin pops his head in, his Santa hat crooked. The locket is still swinging from his neck. 

“Hey! Dr. Greene said if you’re doing well by the end of the day, you might be discharged for tomorrow!”

You stare at him. Can he really pretend nothing is wrong? “Great.”

“Let’s get you up and walking around.” Jimin offers you his arm. At first you don’t want to take it, but your legs are too weak on your own. He slowly leads you out of your room and down the hall before circling back. You pass another window overlooking the parking lot and there, in the same spot, is the blue car. From this window, you can see much better.

“Which car’s yours?” you ask quietly.

“That blue Prius next to the white one,” he says cheerfully, pointing.

Finally, when you squint you can read the license plate: 7HLC946.

7HL. Your body stiffens. It’s the same car. Then, that means… you swivel slowly until you’re staring at Jimin, who’s still looking out of the window. He killed your husband.

He leads you back to your room. You feel frozen, and not from the wintertime. When you go inside, you hear a soft click. Your eyes widen. He locked the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly from behind you.

“F-fine. Perfect,” you reply, your voice shaking.

“You know, you really have to stop getting yourself in trouble,” he says, strolling to the bed and smoothing down your sheets. Your eyes dart to the locked door. If you made a break for it with your cast, he could still beat you to it. “Every time you’re supposed to get discharged, something happens, and then who has to save you?”

“I’ve recovered,” you say firmly. Is it an ego thing? He wants credit for doing his job?

“Before, you always had your husband to save you,” Jimin says, standing. His eyes are drilling holes into you. “Do you know why he’d always see you off at the door?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” “It’s so I couldn’t even look at you. He was always around, but not this time. And this time it was me that saved your life.” Jimin is advancing now, still smiling serenely. Your heart pounding, you back away, your cast clunking against the floor. 

“It was you,” you whisper when your back hits the window. “Your car. You hit us.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack when I saw you remembered my plate,” he says now, examining his nails. “Lucky I saw it before your mother did. How is she, by the way?”

“You… you killed my husband!” Your scream is more animal than human when it rips from your throat. You’re fully prepared to leap at Jimin and take the life he took from Taehyung when he pulls out a syringe.

“Shhh…” he says, stepping forward. “What did I say about sedation?”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t want to know what’s in the syringe, or what he’d do to you if he injected you with it.

Caught between him and the window, you freeze. You have to get away from him. You turn around and swing your heavy cast at the window. 

With a painful CRASH, the glass shatters. Shards fly everywhere, several of them catching and slicing your skin. You hear commotion outside and below as you shoot for the window and try to grab onto the windowsill. You nearly sob when the glass in your grip breaks off the windowsill. Almost… just like your dream of the cliff, though, you’re dragged back from the escape. Jimin locks one arm around your neck and pulls you away from the window.

You feel a sharp prick in your arm and, seconds later, your muscles seem to melt. If Jimin weren’t supporting your weight you would have fallen. Shit. What did he do to you?

“It’s for your own good, my love,” he says, carrying you to the bed and tucking the blankets in around you. Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth; you can’t speak, and you can barely move your arms. 

There’s a loud banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you alright?”

“One second,”Jimin says to you before striding to the door and opening it.

“Jimin! What happened?” The voice belongs to a doctor you don’t recognize.

“Hey, Dr. Kim. Y/n started being combative and went for the window. Luckily, I got her calmed down and back into bed.”

Help. Your vocal chords won’t respond to you. “Hhe…”

“Goodness. We should get her moved out while the window is being repaired.” “I agree, but she did just fall asleep and she hasn’t slept in a while. I suggest giving her an hour.”

“Alright, well, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Doctor.” Jimin shuts the door and locks eyes with you. 

“I’ve waited for you for a while, you know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. His position pins down your left arm, but your right is still free. If only you could move it. “You never got sick, or hurt. I checked. You never even came to visit.” Jimin continues smiling, but his eyes are cold. “That wasn’t very nice. It’s your fault that I had to make you come visit.”

“Stuh… you,” you gasp, forcing your head to clear. “Psy…” Let me go, you want to scream. You’re straining with the effort just to lift your head.

“I know, I know, why didn’t I just talk to you at your house? Well, your guardian was always there. But here, I’m in control. And I’m the one that can save you.”

You can sense feeling returning to your arms. If he keeps talking, it might give you more time to recover from your paralysis. Luckily, Jimin seems so relieved that he can finally tell you everything that he doesn’t seem close to shutting up. 

“Do you know how many times your mother has thanked me for saving your life? How Dr. Greene said I was her favorite nurse?” Jimin caresses your cheek, becoming more animated as he speaks. “Even you, Y/n, you called me your angel.”

You try to bite him when his hand gets close, but your jaw muscles are slack. C’mon… 

“And you’re right, I am your angel. I’m your guardian angel, and I’ll always keep you safe.” You can almost lift your hand. At his words, he leans in to kiss your forehead and with enormous effort, you use the same moment to lift and swipe your bloody hand, still gripping the jagged glass from the window, at him. The glass catches Jimin right in the neck and he gasps and sputters, pressing a hand to his throat as bright red blood gushes from the wound, spattering you and staining the bed. Meanwhile, you collapse, your strength entirely spent.

Jimin staggers upright, hand outstretched towards you. When he tries to speak, his voice is a mere gurgle.

“Y/n- you… no…” with that, he falls to the floor. You see him try and fail to rise again before Jimin sighs and is still at last.

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fits, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

[god1ngs]

━‎ visitation

synopsis; a certain someone pays a visit

contains; major angst, arguing, one mention of vomit, swearing

day two + 1.6k wc

note; sorry this took so long! but here is day two :]

previous part ; seven days masterlist ; next part

   your rage fit from yesterday had calmed down, allowing you to be at peace once you awoke. the ache of your knuckles, red and scraped, had reminded you of it ─ the anger that coursed through your feelings, for not only your nation but yourself as well.

   the deal you made with dream hasn't, and won't, gone away. how you wished it was that easy. how you wished the contract would leave you alone. the nagging of his words, constantly on repeat in your head, made your everyday life harder and harder.

   knowing when you would die haunted you.

   it was the second day, you had noticed. you didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to face the world that morning. however, life didn't quite work out in your favor. you sighed, dreading the hours that would follow once you got up.

   a banging at your door had been the push to get you out of bed. you frowned, almost ignoring the other before getting out of bed. you frowned, an anguishing weight being shoved on to your shoulders as you got up. you pushed open the door, revealing a familiar brunette.

   wilbur, who had been making his daily rounds around the crater that was his country, had decided to come check up on you. the state you were in yesterday had worried him, not allowing a peaceful night. he gave a small, yet weak all the time, smile. a hopeful flame ignited in the smile.

   "are you alright? i wanted to check on you." his thick british made you more hopeful of a greater future, one where you weren't threatened by the laws of the land. you have a sigh, nodding your head before apologizing for your outburst. wilbur, in his naturally good nature, waved you off with a smile.

   "don't worry about it, [name]. we all get mad sometimes. i'm just glad i found you before you hurt yourself more." the brunette said, placing a hand on your shoulder. wilbur was someone who always knew how to calm others down, someone who could pick a persons brain in a matter of moments.

   you leaned into the touch, one of the only comforting feelings you've had in days. dream's words came to your mind, making you shudder. wilbur, having noticed, spared you a glance. "are you cold?" he asked and, although you wanted to say no, you couldn't give any indication that you were scared.

   at your nod, wilbur stripped himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders. the man smiled at you, truly a gentleman. "it is a bit cold around here. you can keep my jacket until you find one for yourself, yeah?" he told you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

   wilbur had always been kind like that, gentlemanly in his own sweet ways. the brunette had always acted like this around you, giving you his jacket whenever you were cold or shooting you a smile whenever you were sad. he was like your rock in hard times.

   he was one of your most trusted friends, you could even say you would trust him with your life.

   you and wilbur talked more, although the conversation was mostly him. dream's words still haunted you. they replayed in your mind like a broken record, scratchy and out of tune, yet terrifying all the same. you weren't ready to face death yet.

   you weren't ready to die.

   you still had so much to live for.

   and yet, fate worked in cruel ways.

   wilbur had noticed how weird you were acting. he had always been observant, coming with his natural person and his role as president. you weren't there, off in a distant world doing god knows what. he wasn't the one to be nosy, but he was curious as to what was on your mind.

   the birds chirped their melodious tune, a peaceful melody to interrupt the dreadful silence.

   explosions cut through the silence. loud and abrupt, the explosives at the entrance of l'manberg, already blown up beyond recognition, exploded. people came rushing out of their homes, scared and confused and tired. the war was still taking its toll on them.

   always making the grand entrance, stood dream. his smiley face mask, chipped at the edges from years of wear and tear, stared back tauntingly at the citizens; it mocked their fear. he didn't say anything for a moment, only staring. waiting and watching for someboy else to make the first move.

   "for fucks sake, dream," shouted tommy, irritated. "what do you want now!? you already blew up l'manberg and now you're doin' it even more!" the tangent he was about to go on was interrupted by wilbur placing a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. wilbur stepped up, appearing to not be afraid of stepping up to dream.

   "what do you want dream?" he asked coldly, eyes of steel narrowed at the other man. dream only snickered, his smirk obvious. he only came to taunt you all, to shove his win in l'manbergs face. the face that l'manberg wasn't free overjoyed him.

   "oh nothing," dream said in a sing song tone. "just wanted to come by to see one your people, wilbur." wilbur hadn't known what to reply, the response from dream confusing him. he opened his mouth to speak, yet you couldn't hear or decipher his words.

   dread washed over you. it enveloped you in its cold embrace, smothering you while you begged for it to stop. you almost wanted to plead, to plead dream to leave you alone. you swallowed harshly, nervous as dream scanned the crowd ─ presumably for you.

   maybe you could leave. if you slipped out quickly, no one would notice. you could leave so easily, without interfering with what was happening. although it would be a cowardice move. you blinked back your fears as you stood there, silently hoping he wasn't there to see you.

   the universe didn't seem to hear your pleas.

   dream had came up to you, grinning and glowing with glee. "[name]!" he exclaimed, the sadistic undertone clear in his words. "how've you been?" you could only stand there in shock, all eyes on you. your next few moments depended on this, for you could lose your life within a few minutes.

   your lack of an answer clearly displeased him, his grip on your shoulder increasing. you winced, hissing underneath your breath. "i've been okay." you stammered meekly, reluctant in answering his question. he only smiled wider, letting go of your shoulder.

   "good, good! i came to remind you of our little deal. remember what my words were, okay?" your blood ran dry at his words, and so did everyone else's judging by their reactions. dream only turned, saying goodbye to the citizens of l'manberg and being on his way.

   all eyes were still on you when he left. they didn't leave you even as you crumpled in on yourself, grasping at whatever warm skin you could find. shouting began quickly. tommy was shouting, yelling at you for what deal you had made with dream.

   you could see wilbur's shocked face. disappointment shone on his features, his creased brow in confusion making you want to vomit. he stopped tommy yelling, although only a short amount of time before it began again, while walking up to you. "you made a deal with dream? the villain?"

   you couldn't speak even if you wanted to. words wouldn't make it past your throat, you almost clawed them out. you only choked on them, eyes wide and panic filled. you were scared of losing your friends, as well as your life.

   telling them about the deal would be going against him, right?

   you nearly started sobbing. the reminder that you were around people who expected you to be strong stopped the urge. you sniffled, opening and closing your mouth to speak yet no words making it past. wilbur's disappointment strengthened.

   "[name], tell me what deal you made with dream." the firmness of wilbur's voice had been one you hadn't heard directed at you before. to tommy, and sometimes tubbo, but never you before. you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that voice came with. he put a hand on your shoulder, and the familiar comfort didn't come with it this time.

   "i can't, wilbur..." you choked out, the fear of power from dream outweighing any of your friendships. you couldn't bear your death coming earlier, as well as your friends having to watch it. tears steamed down your face, lip quivering and eyes fluttering. wilbur showed no pity. he wasn't the kind man who had offered his jacket before.

   "i'm sorry, [name], but until you tell us what deal you made with dream, you can't be here anymore."

   the words taunted you. they laughed and mocked and jeered you while you sobbed. you could only look up at wilbur, stammering out words you don't even know made sense or not. he apologized again and, with that, escorted you out of l'manberg.

   you cried as you left.

   you had no where to go. your home was l'manberg, and now you had been escorted out by your friend of years. you didn't know where else to go except the lake. the lake you had met dream only days ago, your own pathetic relfection staring back at you. your eyes were red and puffy, a significant indication you had been bawling.

   footsteps approached you, and much like that night only days ago, there dream stood.

   you flinched as he sat next to you. he hummed, leaning back on his palms, grass blades tickling his fingers. he looked up at the sky, the twinkling night stars. you sniffled. he let out a sigh, one of content and pleasure.

   "this is going to be the worst week of your life, and i'll make sure of it."

   he would keep his promise.

taglist, (open)

━‎ ‎ ‎@paradigmax ; @pachowpachowbucket ; @acatstalkingyou ; @angelicaschuyler-church ; @saucey-kneecapzz42020 ; @piano-boo ; @i-need-hugs ; @strawbrinkofdeath ; @halloweenpoison13 ; @boiled-onionrings ; @feverish-dove ; @ahmya-4 ; @queenwastaken

[spookbusters]

Space Age Love Song

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend is never really easy, but it can be so worth it.

Pairing: Ray Stantz x astronomist!Reader // Warnings: bit of manipulative ex // Words: 2.2k

A/N: The process of writing these over the last few months was so intense, but it was so worth it. It was truly a work of the heart, and I hope you all love it as much as I do.

You met in 1982, almost two full years before Ghostbusters were even a thing, in a hallway on campus at Columbia University. It was almost two in the morning.

You’d seen each other before in passing in the Chem and Physics building, on long nights, but you’d never spoken before.

All you really knew about him was that he had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

It was both of your first years out of your PhDs.

You had gotten a job at the school right out of the gate teaching incoming freshman.

From what you knew, he was working in an on-campus parapsychology research lab with two other graduates.

One of whom he had a second, parachemistry lab with.

You were working on some diagrams for the freshman students you’d be teaching that semester.

They were spread all over the wall in front of your office, since you’d run out of space in your tiny broom closet.

You had your Walkman in your pocket, your favorite tape on blast, and flecks of paint on your glasses.

Your budget from the university couldn’t cover largely scaled, full-color pictures of the recent Voyager 2 Saturn discoveries, so you had taken it upon yourself to scale them yourself and paint them for your students to see.

Ray was on his way out of the lab that night, after having worked on developing some negatives and going over some tapes while Venkman (who was supposed to be helping) snoozed in his office chair.

He noticed from across the hallway how frenzied you were working and was genuinely surprised by how much energy you seemed to have.

When he got a little closer, you finally noticed him out of the corner of your eye.

You offered him a smile he’d seen several times before, a little bashful, but ultimately warm and very kind.

You tried to shimmy out of the way so he could get by you and your yellow, orange, and brown paints without much incident.

Now that he was closer, he could see your paintings. He noticed the mess on your hands, the brush tucked into your ear.

And he was in awe.

When he didn’t pass you by as you expected him to, you looked at him.

He was talking!! You hadn’t been paying attention!!

You pulled your headphones off your ears, and his voice suddenly flooded in to replace the music.

“-taken you to do this?”

He must’ve noticed the way your music was suddenly audible, because he suddenly redirected his attention from the painting to you, gave a light chuckle and gestured to your Walkman.

“Sorry! Couldn’t see the headphones, they kind of blended in with your hair.”

You returned his laugh.

You explained your situation to him, and the reasons behind your painting.

He thinks it’s incredible. Not just your artistic skill, but also your dedication to your students.

That is the moment the two of you are formally introduced.

You stand there and chat for a few minutes, and eventually part ways.

But that’s not the last time you talk. Not by a long shot.

You see him a few more times to and from your class, and instead of just offering a smile, you always shoot him a “Hi, Ray!”

He likes seeing you, truth be told. You always have an infectiously positive energy about you.

After a while, he finds he likes it so much, he stops to say hey to you even when he’s just passing by your open office door.

You’re mostly acquaintances, but there are often times you find yourself wanting to get to know him more.

Like when you see him just absolutely gunning it down the hallway past your open office door with a colander on his head. Or the time you could hear a muffled ‘boom’ from the lab down the hall, followed by a similarly muffled cry of “Success!”

The day you’d finally begin your friendship would come a couple weeks later.

When he passed by your office, you were bent over your desk grading quizzes, looking stressed out of your mind. Your students just weren’t getting the material and you were wondering 

The sight stirred concern in him.

“Hey,” he’d said, and you’d look up at him with tired eyes. He looked just as exhausted. “I’m headed out to get a coffee. Do you want to come?”

You accepted.

It was all uphill from there.

He told you some of the best jokes you’d ever heard, and you inspired a lot of dedication in him.

You became close with him, and you’d spend a lot of time in each other’s labs.

It wasn’t until you met the girl he’d started dating after you got to know him that you finally admitted to yourself that you had feelings for him.

It was so hard. Not just admitting it to yourself that you had fallen for him like a boulder in the ocean, but seeing him as happy as he was.

Her name was Suzanne, and they’d end up being together for almost 7 months.

Around Ray you’d think she was the sweetest thing.

But when he’d leave you with her to go grab something from somewhere, she was bitter and catty.

She couldn’t stand how much time the two of you spent together.

You’d often sigh when you thought about them together. How wrong it was.

She didn’t deserve him, and he was such a sweetheart willing to give people the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t notice how thick her façade was.

Part of you didn’t want to tell him about any of your interactions with her. You didn’t want to be responsible for ruining things for him.

But, your better judgement knew that that wasn’t right.

So, you talked to him about how she’d been acting with you during their time together.

He trusted you, and decided to talk to Suzanne about it.

The next day, he came back to your office, and you instantly knew the conversation hadn’t gone well.

His face was sullen in a way you’d never seen before, and it worried you.

You sat together for some coffee to talk it over.

Apparently, she became extremely defensive when he tried to talk to her about it.

As time went on while they were talking, he became increasingly aware of how controlling and toxic she was.

He also realized he really wasn’t as happy as he had thought he was.

They broke it off.

He actually thanked you for taking the time to talk to him the way you did.

It was a bitter-sweet moment, but it reinforced your friendship.

It took a while for Ray to heal, but when he did, he was happier than he ever was.

You were happy that he was happy. Truly happy.

You’d also given yourself time to come to terms with the fact that you were in love with him.

You were hesitant to tell him, afraid of ruining your friendship which was so dear to you. 

But, deep down, you knew you’d have to tell him eventually.

One day he came to you talking about something he’d be working on that weekend.

One of Ray’s friends, Egon, told Ray about a meteor shower that could potentially generate crazy amounts of energy.

“You’re the resident star-gazer,” he said with a kind, eye-twinkling smile, “Would you want to come see it with me? I wanted to get some readings when it’s going on.”

And, God, if you weren’t completely crazy about him before, you certainly were now.

You agreed instantly.

That weekend, you two packed up the back of the 70s Chevy truck Ray inherited from his dad, and headed out to Allegany State Park for the night.

The roadtrip alone would be ingrained in your mind for the rest of your life.

You guys sang along to the radio the whole time, cracking jokes in the afternoon sun, and talking about anything and everything you could think of.

When you got to the park, that sweet, light-hearted energy lived on.

You were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, parked next to a ridge that overlooked the rest of the park.

You spent the first few hours hanging out, having some drinks out of the cooler you’d brought, and setting things up for the night ahead.

You’d brought your best telescope, Ray’s equipment for his readings, a radio, and some blankets for when the spring night began to chill.

You were having such a good time that you barely noticed the way the sun was almost completely below the horizon.

You were really only made aware when your watch alarm started beeping.

“Oh, hey,” you muttered, “It should be starting soon!”

As the sun set further and the sky turned dark, the two of you sat curled up waiting for the first meteors to streak across the night.

At the first sign of a meteor, Ray’s electrical equipment starts beeping off the charts, and you could swear you'd never seen him so excited.

He’s all but jumping between his electronics, noting to himself the various measurements of a form of energy that you didn’t completely understand.

It only takes him about an hour to get what he needs.

“Do you want to go home,” you ask, and you hoped with all your heart that he’d say no.

And he did. “Actually, I was thinking we could stay here a little longer. Enjoy the view for a little bit, if you want to.”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” you’d reply, and when he grinned at you, your heart warmed.

You both retired yourself to the bed of the truck, curled up in the blankets and just watching the streaks cross the sky.

You’d turned on the radio, and were passing a thermos of hot chocolate between the two of you.

You’d seen at least a few dozen celestial events in your life so far, but you’d never experienced one that had made you feel the way you did in that moment.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really asked why you got into all this,” he’d say, gesturing to the meteor shower.

“Hmm,” you mused, “No, I don’t think you have, actually.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, silently urging you to go on.

And, of course, you do.

“When I was little, on a trip to Arizona, my family went out to the middle of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere,” you explained, “And when we got away from all the light pollution, it was still so bright outside from all the stars you could see.”

When you turned to look at him, he was staring right at you. You felt your face flush.

“I just remember wanting to learn everything I could about outer space,” you finished, “I’d never seen something so beautiful.”

When he looked back up at the stars, you leaned over and put your head on his shoulder, and you smiled.

You didn’t want this moment to ever end.

The two of you spend some time quiet, just listening to the songs softly play over the radio.

A Flock of Seagulls comes on and you smile.

You absentmindedly hum along.

He slowly reaches an arm around your shoulders.

He’s hoping you don’t really notice.

You totally notice.

Doesn’t take long for you to start singing under your breath.

"Saw your eyes, and they touched my mind. Though it took a while, I was falling in love.”

But it’s the soft muttered question of your name that really captures your attention.

You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him and you can swear that you’d never seen that look in his eyes before.

“Is everything ok,” you ask, concern tinting your tone.

You brushed your fingers across his cheekbone, and he all but leaned into your palm. The eyes that look back at you are stormy. Conflicted.

“You know I could never ask of you what I want to ask you,” he sighed. “You’re one of my best friends and I never want to lose having you in my life.”

The words nearly made you cry.

“You don’t have to ask,” you sniffled.

When you kissed him, it felt like coming home. It was warm and grounding.

Now you were crying. When you took a breath again you were crying and laughing. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you confessed, your heart about ready to leap out of your chest. It nearly does when you hear him whisper, “Me too.”

The two of you spend the remainder of the night talking about whatever you can think of and giving small chuckles against one another’s lips. 

You feel like you’re on cloud nine.

You decide to head home about an hour later, packing up the truck and watching light streak across the windshield as you drive out of the park.

“This view was really something,” you say, smiling with your head leaning against the window.

And, as he looked at you in his passenger seat, holding one of his hands while he drove, he felt his heart swell with all the love he had for you.

“I had two beautiful views tonight.”

[tillthelandslide]

Jersey Love (Part 1): The Durrell Challenge

Authors Note: Hi guys, this is a fanfic I have been working on recently, there will be more parts to it but its called Jersey Love. I hope you all like it, I wasn’t sure whether to post it as it long (6K words) but i hope those who do read it like it. Love you all so much and I am so thankful for everyone’s support.

Sorry if there any typos or grammar mistakes, think I’ve read it a thousands times over but I have still probably missed some - L

Tag list : @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira​ @summersong69 (if you want to be added to my tag list, please message me)

(if you want to be added to my tag list, please message me)

The Durrell Challenge

It was another beautiful day in London , the hot sun was beaming down, melting away the morning dew. You were currently on your morning run, the fresh air was crisp against your cheeks, the music playing in your ears was set to a low volume so you could still hear the birds chirping peacefully in the trees. You were truly happy that this was your life. You were nearing the end of your route, drawing closer to Henry's house when you started to think about your relationship with him. Your relationship with Henry always made you chuckle, there wasn't anything particularly funny about it but you always found yourself laughing because you couldn't believe he was your boyfriend. The both of you had met in Henry's hometown during the Durrell Challenge, you had came first with the quickest time and Henry had come over to congratulate you, you were talking to a friend when he came over and he stood next to you awkwardly for a few minutes because he didn't want to interrupt your conversation. Your friend left a couple minutes later and you turned to him and smiled widely.

You remember thinking he was really attractive, recognising him instantly, not that you allowed him to know that.

You had asked him "did you enjoy the run?" before he even got the chance to congratulate you on your time.

"I really did yeah. Congratulations by the way, I'm Henry" he said, smiling down at you, placing his hand in yours and shaking

"Oh thanks I'm Yn. Haha. Do you do this every year then?" you said, making his eyebrows furrow slightly, he was kind of surprised you didn't know who he was. Not in a cocky way, but this was his hometown and practically everyone knew him here, they were all so friendly and didn't treat him any different from how they treated everyone else, it was the biggest reason he loved coming home so much.

"I do, you?" he said casually. There was something quite nice and comforting about how casual it was, he felt like an ordinary guy meeting an ordinary girl for the first time, it was nice.

"No actually, this is my first time , my mum and her partner retired here, so decided to take part. Raising money for the amazing cause" you said, smiling up at him, the sun began to get in your eyes so you moved slightly, so you were standing in the shade.

"Promise I'm not trying to get away from you, it's just the sun is in my eyes" you said, making him giggle as you nearly tripped when you moved backwards.

"It truly is an amazing cause, I have to say, I'm impressed" he said, making you pull a puzzled look up at him.

"How so?" you said, making him move closer to you.

"Your first run and you not only came first but I heard you raised the most money?" he said, making you chuckle and smile widely up at him. That smile, he thought, everything about you was drawing him in closer and he was so taken back by it all, he does this run every year and never has anything like this happened before, he hadn't expected anything else this year.

"I may have" you said, making him smile again.

"How did you do it?" he said. Someone tried to move past you but you were too focused on Henry that you didn't realise, making him place his hand on your shoulder to gently move you out of the way so the person could get past.

"Oh sorry" you said, to the person who walked past you, you looked back up at Henry who still had his hand on your shoulder "thanks. I'm probably the most oblivious person you'll ever meet" you said making the both of you laugh, somehow you lost your balance making you wobble slightly and making Henry grab your waist to steady you.

"And the clumsiest by the looks of it" he said making you blush and laugh as you were embarrassed.

"Oh lord, you have no idea" you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. Henry looked at your blushed cheeks and smiled to himself, he thought it was sweet, again he doesn't mean to sound cocky but he's used to blushing women around him but when you blushed it sparked something inside of him, he wanted to be the one the tuck the hair behind your ear, he wanted to place a kiss to your rosy cheeks.

"uhh anyway, what was I saying? Umm oh yeah, how did you raise so much money?" he said, suddenly turning into a stuttering mess.

"Okay... I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone" you said jokingly making him giggle. What the hell? He thought, when have I ever giggled?

"Promise not to tell" he said holding his pinky finger up, you then realised he wanted to make a pinky promise so you linked yours with his. That's cute you thought. Henry coughed and crossed his arms over one another thinking about how awkward he was being, seriously Henry who still does pinky promises? He thought to himself, mental hitting himself.

You however were just focusing on how somehow his arms looked bigger when he did that.

"I'm a famous movie star" you said, raising your eyebrows up at him, making him cough awkwardly. He didn't say anything for a few seconds making you throw your head back with another chuckle, you hit his chest lightly.

"I'm joking Henry. I'm on the conservation team here at Durrell, joined early last year " you said making him smile.

"And you know how I am" he said, making you place your hand on his forearm, sparks igniting there for the both of you.

"Hate to break it to you, but I think everyone here knows who you are. In fact they're all staring at us right now" you said, looking around which made Henry look around too.

"But you're so... Normal" he said making you chuckle again.

"Sorry about that. Would you rather me gawk from afar, come over and be a rambling mess and then just drool over you?" you said, you were looking up at him in the simplest way, yet it made Henry's stomach flip, your eyes twinkled as you saw Henry's lip turn up into a smirk.

"Have a feeling that's not your style" he said with a flirty tone.

"Ah, but I have a feeling it's what you're used to" you remarked back. Quick comeback he thought to himself, he liked you.

"It's refreshing honestly" he said making you roll your eyes at him, oh how he wanted to see you do that over and over, and maybe one day he'd be able to punish you for it.

"Oh I just love being called refreshing. Such a compliment, thank you Henry, I think I'm in love with you" you said, jokingly, yet his stomach did a flip again. You were cheeky and he liked that, you weren't afraid to say too much.

"Ah Henry, I see you've met our little star" one of the male race organisers who Henry recognised, his name tag read "James" said as he came over to the both of you, he placed a hand on your shoulder. Henry felt jealous for some reason, was this your boyfriend? He'd feel bad for flirting with you if it was, although he thought you were flirting back, maybe that was just your personality though, he thought. Were the two of you flirting? he then began assessing the conversation the both of you had just had, trying to work out whether you were being flirty or just nice.

"I was just congratulating her. First place for her time and the amount of money she has raised" Henry said, making him smile, his hand was still on your shoulder and oh how Henry wished he would move it.

"Ah, actually you donated the most money Henry but I guess that doesn't count does it haha" James said, making you look at him weirdly, almost giving him a warning look. The man looked at you and then back at Henry before he said "we're very thankful for all that you do here Henry. I'll leave you to it" he said walking off. You were thankful he had left and so was Henry to be honest.

"Sorry about him, that was a bit rude" you said, rubbing your eyebrow awkwardly.

"It's okay. Is he your boyfriend?" Henry said, making your head shoot up to look at him.

"James? No, no no no no" you said shaking your head repeatedly.

"Sorry that was inappropriate." he said, shaking his own head.

"It's okay." you said. You were then being called to collect a medal so Henry frowned slightly.

"Um I'm sorry I have to go, it was really nice meeting you Henry" you said, beginning to walk off. Henry looked at the ground and ran a hand through his curls. Should've asked for her number you idiot, he thought. He felt a small hand in his and he looked up and saw you standing there again.

"Take this" you said, removing your hand and walking away again, in his clasp was a piece of paper with your number written on it , he smiled to himself and put it in his pocket, walking over to his brothers again who he ran with.

"Hello again stranger" his brother said, patting him on the back.

"Hey" he said, falling into a conversation with his brothers again.

A little while later Henry was called to talk to some of the staff members at Durrell who wanted to thank him for all of his hard work and thank him for being an amazing ambassador. You were standing amongst your colleagues, laughing about something when he walked up to you.

"Could I borrow you for a second please?" he said, making your best friend and colleague raise her eyebrows up at you.

"Of course" you said, saying goodbye to your colleagues making them call out “congratulations” to you as you left with Henry.

"What's up?" you said, continuing to walk somewhere with Henry.

"I know we've just met but I really enjoyed talking to you and I want to get to know you more. Would you want to go out later?" he said, the both of you slowly coming to a stop a while away from everyone else. Before you got to answer Henry started rambling" can understand if you don't want to, you're probably really busy with stuff and don't have the time for a relationship, let alone one with me and probably don't want what comes with me... " he continued making you lean up and place a peck to his cheek, shutting him up.

"For a famous superstar you really aren't very smooth" you joked, making him sigh deeply and smile.

"I swear I'm not usually like this, you make me nervous" he said, closing his eyes and breathing in heavily after he said it because there he goes blurting something stupid out again.

"Hmm. You can prove that to me later then" you said, lightly nudging him.

"Really?" he said, bashfully, seriously what's wrong with him today.

"It would be an honor" you said, your friend ran over to you and you sighed, you really couldn't catch a break today.

"Yn we need you" she said laughing about something, beginning to pull you away. "text me" you mouthed as you were being pulled away.

Henry texted you later that day and you both decided to go for a walk along the beach together, you met just as the sun was setting, the sky was a beautiful mixture of pink, blue and purple and the sea was gently kissing the shore.

You met at a small ice cream hut which was closed, you were wearing a white summer dress and a thin pink cardigan over the top.

Henry was wearing a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and a blazer. He walked up to you and you smiled up at him, he leant down and placed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

"Hi" he said, his hand resting on your waist.

"Hi. What's in the basket?" you said referring to what was in his hand.

"It's a surprise," he said, confidently taking your hand and beginning to walk down to the shore. You liked his new found confidence and you smiled to yourself, his hand felt huge wrapped around yours and it warmed your hand up instantly, it was tingling so much you swear he would've felt it. You walked in silence for a little bit, stopping about 50 yards from the shore line. Henry's hand dropped yours lightly, placing the basket on the floor, pulling out a blanket from it and placing it on the floor. He gestured to the blanket and said "my lady" which made you giggle, you sat down and he followed suit.

"You look beautiful," he said, making you blush.

"Oh stop" you said, looking away for a second as you were now very aware of him looking at you.

"You do." he said.

"Thank you, you look very handsome yourself" you said.

"What? this? Oh it's nothing" he said jokingly making you giggle.

"That's cute." he said, referring to your giggle, making you blush again.

"You're making me all shy" you said, looking down which made a piece of hair fall in front of your eyes, Henry's fingers came up to your face, grazing your cheek as he tucked it behind your ear. Before leaning back on his palms.

"Tell me more about yourself" he said, grabbing some wine and some glasses, pouring you a glass as he spoke, you loved the change in his attitude, earlier he was this rambling mess and now he was this confident and well put together guy who tucked your hair behind your ear and then acted like nothing had happened.

"Umm, what do you want to know?" you said, turning your whole body to face him as you took a glass from him taking a sip of the delicious wine.

"Everything. How did you come to work at Durrell?" he said with that same level of confidence.

"I've worked in conservation for 9 years now, I used to travel all across the world working on different conservation projects. I absolutely loved it and I started to get a name for myself. But something was always missing. I guess I just wanted consistency, I wanted somewhere I could call home. When my mum moved here she heard of this job at Durrell and she told me and it sounded ideal. It was quite a big role on the conservation team so I thought I wouldn't get it but I applied anyway and got the job and I've now been working there for a year now and it's amazing" you said, Henry listened carefully to every single word you said and you loved it.

"That's amazing. So what is it you do exactly?" he said, he moved so he was no longer leaning back on his palms but so one hand resting on his lap and one hand resting on your knee.

You smiled down at his hand on your knee before saying "So my official title is, Director of Conservation Science. I manage the Trust’s scientific research programmes to support Durrell’s conservation mission. But I also carry out keeper duties 3 times a week, its not usually what someone does in my position but I asked and they agreed. I love working with animals and you don't really get to do that in my position, it's mainly just research” you said, making him smile widely.

"That's so cool, it's good you're doing something you're really passionate about" he said, his hand began to massage your knee lightly making you sigh happily.

"Well from what I hear you're pretty passionate about it too?" you said, your own hand coming to rest over his on your knee.

"I am yeah, Durrell has always been a huge part of my life, it was a place I always visited when I was growing up. So when I started acting and got into the public eye I wanted to make a change and I wanted to use my position to help" he said.

"And you really are making a massive difference Henry" you said, squeezing his hand.

"Tell me about your family" he said, his hand caressing your hand as he spoke.

"I have 3 brothers and I'm the youngest and the only girl which made for an interesting childhood. My mum and dad got divorce when I was around 4. And then my mum found her partner when I was about 21 and they've been together ever since. My dad remarried 2 years ago now and he lives in London with my stepmum" you said smiling at him. "what about you?"

"Well I grew up here, although you knew that. I have 4 brothers and I'm the second youngest so that too made from an interesting childhood" he said making the both of you chuckle. "I went to boarding school, Stow School , you might have heard of it? That was interesting too, I left a year early though as I got a role in the Count of Monte Cristo in 2002 and I've been acting ever since” he spoke with an aura of confidence and pride and it made you smile so much your cheeks ached. You nodded along, listening to every word.

“That sounds amazing” 

"Wow, it's so beautiful" you said, looking out to the sea and sky a second later.

"It really is" Henry replied, little did you know he was looking at you.

"Do you enjoy being back home?" you said, making him nod at you.

"Yeah I really do. I don't get to do it all that often anymore, usually just for the challenge and then for Christmas. I love it here" he said making you smile and say "me too, it's wonderful"

"I see the way people treat you here, it must be nice" you say.

"Yeah. I mean don't get me wrong, I love my fans and I love meeting them. I love the life I have because of them and I love talking about my job. But here... I'm just Henry. That's why I like you so much, it just feels right, feels like I'm just an ordinary guy who met a girl he likes in an ordinary way. There's no pressure, I don't feel like I have to be Henry Cavill the movie star" he said.

"I'm glad" you said, bringing his hand up to your lips and placing a kiss against it. It made him look at you, really look at you, his eyes staring into yours and he lent closer, closing the gap between you, his hand coming to cradle your face as he placed his lips against yours. The both of your lips stayed against each other for a few seconds before he pulled away briefly, leaning in to mold them together again. Sparks flew between you, and your hand came to gently grasp his chin, pulling him in further against you before you both pulled away, smiling widely.

"Wow. That makes a change from earlier" you said, making him chuckle, and wrap his arms around you, laying the both of you down on the blanket, the both of you looked up into the sky, your head on his arm.

You both then spent some more time getting to know each other, you found out the others favourite colour, food, book, film, tv show, anything and everything you could talk about you did. By the end of the conversation you felt like you really knew Henry, not the famous Henry but the real Henry.

"Can I tell you something?" you said, your hands were playing with each other against Henry's stomach when you felt him nod against you, you turned over slightly so your head was against his arm but so you could see him.

"I was really trying to seem cool earlier but I was going crazy" you said, making him chuckle.

"And there I was thinking you didn't know who I was." he said, bringing your hand up to his lips like you did earlier.

"I just wanted you to feel comfortable but I was seriously freaking out inside. Everyone had told me so much about you and you seemed like this really nice guy. I wasn't even going to come up to you because I didn't want to freak you out or whatever. As you said, this is your home and everyone treats you like just Henry so I did the same when you came up to me"

"I really appreciate that. I was kind of shocked though, I think that's why I was such a mess, you were so cool and calm and I was just like wow who is this wonderful girl" he said, moving so he was leaning over you slightly, beginning to play with your hair.

"Does it change anything?" you said making him smirk at you.

"not at all, unless you're some stalker, you're not a stalker are you?" he said jokingly.

"No I'm not a stalker Henry. I just know where you live, your shoe size, what car you drive" you said jokingly getting interrupted by him tickling you.

"Henry" you laughing, wriggling against him "stop" you said, pushing his chest roughly, so he was lying down and your were over him, his legs opened slightly, allowing you to slide in between his legs, your arms coming to rest against his chest with your head placed on them, he began playing with your hair again making you close your eyes.

"Please stroke my ego just a little bit by assuring me that you have at least watched some of my films" he said, making you open your eyes.

"I have. And you were amazing" you said.

"Wow okay stalker" he said, making you nudge him in the stomach, making him let out a laugh mixed with a grunt. You pressed your lips firmly against his, his smile soon dropping so he could properly mold your lips together.

“When do you go back to London?” you said after pulling away from the kiss.

“Tomorrow” he said, making you frown.

“Looking forward to it?” you said, making him sigh, his forehead rested against yours and he placed two sweet kisses to your lips.

“I didn’t think this was going to happen. I don’t want to go home now” he said, making you chuckle, you both sat up, his arm still cradling you against his side.

“I didn’t think so either. But it's okay, sometimes you meet people who are supposed to be there for just a really fantastic day, maybe that's what this is. Doesn’t change how amazing it is” you said making him nod.

“That’s the thing, I think it’s more than that, I sure as hell want it to be” he said, making you smile.

“All we can do is wait and see I guess, we had one amazing date Henry. But you’re going back to London tomorrow and I’m staying here” you said, making him place a kiss against your forehead.

“If it's meant to be it will be, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck” he said making you smile at him and share one last memorable kiss.

The next time you saw each other was the first week of November, Henry had finished the filming of the first season of the Witcher and came home for a break. It was coming up to your birthday and your friends had been planning something to celebrate it, you weren't quite sure what they had planned but were happy nonetheless. You had heard Henry was back home but hadn't yet had the chance to see him because you were so busy with work, you were truly working your arse off and you found yourself becoming very tired. Today was a particularly long day, you came in early to lend a hand on the keeper duties and then had a full day of meetings alongside the conservation staff. You arrived home at 8pm which was quite a bit later than the usual time. Your friends had invited you to the annual pub quiz so you got ready as soon as you got home, showering and getting dressed. You had your hair in a bun all day so when you let it down it had nice curls in it, you brushed it through with your fingers to calm the curls just a little bit so it didn't look too crazy. You put on some black skinny jeans and a lace bodysuit and a black blazer.

You and your friends didn't have much spare time to go out so you made it a tradition to dress up for the annual quiz night. Lucky most of the locals at the pub knew all of you and understood why you did it. You weren't a fan of foundation or heavy makeup so instead applied some bb cream, some light contour to add some dimension to your face and some highlighting drops to accentuate your cheekbones which you loved, some light eyeshadow to your eyes and some mascara and then applied your favourite perfume. You picked up a clutch purse and put the essentials in it before heading out the door to the pub.

Your friends were dressed to the nines and you complimented them when you saw them. These were the people you worked with who were similar, if not the same age you were and you all got along very well.

"The boys are late as usual so let's just go in" your friend Emily said, nudging all 3 of you inside. You sat at your usual table, your friend Amy going to get a round for the three of you. One of the locals came up to you making some friendly chit chat. You and your friends got chatting when Amy came back and eventually you landed on the conversation of Henry.

"So Henry is back, saw him at the supermarket today, he asked about you" your friend Amy said, raising her eyebrows up at you.

"He did not" you laughed making Amy say "I swear it, he came over and said he recognised me from Durrel, asked if I was your friend...I invited him to your birthday bash" she said making Emily laugh.

"Are you crazy? I haven't seen him in months, it will be so awkward for him" you said, as you saw your guy friends come in (there were 3 of them in total). They quickly came to sit at your table giving out hugs and kisses.

"What's going to be awkward?" your friend Liam said, giving you a kiss on the cheek, his hand holding his boyfriend James'.

"The fact that Amy invited Henry to my birthday celebration" you said, taking a sip from your drink.

"Your birthday bash" Amy said, making everyone laugh.

"No one agreed to call it that" your friend Lewis said, making everyone laugh again.

"If you think that's awkward you should probably know that Henry and his brothers do this quiz every year" James said, making you choke on your drink.

"What?! Nobody told me that. Wait a second he wasn't here last year?" you said, referring to the first year you lived here and did the quiz.

"He was off being a big shot superstar" James said, rolling his eyes making you grunt.

"you don't have to say it like that. It's rude" you said making Liam stand up for you "yeah cmon, Yn told me what you said to him at Durrell, he hasn't given us any reason to treat him like that" you gave Liam a look to say thank you.

"I'm going to get a drink while the bar is fairly free, anyone want one?" Lewis said, making you all nod. 

"I'll give you a hand. Need to pee anyway" you said, everyone told Lewis what they wanted and then you both walked to the bar.

"Let me just use the ladies and then I'll be back to help with the drinks" you said, going off to the toilet, getting stopped by a local on your way who commented on how nice you looked. You thanked them before going into the ladies room.

You did what you had to do and started walking back to the bar to meet Lewis, you weren't looking where you were going to ended up bumping into someone as you heard them say "easy there love", you recognised the voice straight away and your heart began thumping quickly , his hand quickly came flying to your waist to stop you from falling, you looked up to him finally being met with two piercing blue eyes and you recognised instantly.

"Henry" you said, taking a step back, smiling to his brothers who all had a pint in their hand.

"Yn!" he said, stepping forward to hug you tightly, he lifted you off the ground slightly, making you giggle. You were glad he was happy to see you. "This is Yn" he said excitedly to his brothers as he took a step back again.

"nice to meet you, I'm Simon"

"pleased to meet you I'm Niki"

"Fastest time at Durrell right? I'm Piers"

"I'm Charlie. We'll leave you and Hen to it. It was lovely to meet you" you felt a bit overwhelmed, each of them introducing themselves, shaking your hand and placing a friendly greeting kiss to your cheek.

"Sorry about that." Henry said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

You heard your name being called by Lewis and you looked over to the bar and saw him struggling with the drinks.

"Uh- it's okay. Shit sorry my friend needs my help. I really want to catch up but-" you said, getting interrupted by another call of your name from Lewis. It was the first time he had heard you swear and he thought it was cute, you sounded a little bit angry at the person who was calling you and it made Henry smirk slightly, you were cute when you were mad.

"It's okay. Go, we can catch up later. It's really good to see you, love, you look great" he said, leaning down to place a kiss against your cheek.

"so do-" "YN!" "coming! Sorry Henry"

You paced over to Lewis, hitting him on the back making him wince.

"What was that for?" he said, you grabbed 3 drinks in your hand and walked to the table, Lewis following behind you.

"Did you not see who I was talking to?" you said to Lewis, passing everyone their drinks and sliding next to Amy, Lewis sliding in next to you.

"No? I was trying to get the drinks" he said dumbfoundedly.

"Well I was talking to Henry. Didn't get much chance to talk because all of his brothers introduced themselves and then you interrupted me" you said, making everyone scold Lewis.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise" he said, making you chuckle.

"Oh well, too late now" you said, nudging your shoulder against Lewis'.

"You already tried it with her, now it's his turn" Liam joked, making everyone laugh. Lewis had asked you on a date when you first started working at Durrell, you had agreed but after the date the two of you agreed you didn't feel any sparks. He was a good looking guy but nothing was there, of course it was now a running joke in your group.

"Oh shut up" you said, laughing with your friends again. The quiz began and you all continued drinking and laughing, you occasionally looked over at Henry's table, sometimes you would meet his eyes and you would both smile, you saw that they too were laughing and having a good time which made you smile.

Henry on the otherhand was getting a little bit jealous, Lewis was sitting very close to you and his arm was wrapped protectively around you shoulders, you knew there was nothing of this behaviour apart from the fact you were just such good friends, but Henry didn't know your history, all he knew was you looked like a couple and looked good together. He couldn't really expect much, you both agreed that what will happen will happen and he had been gone for a couple of months now and a lot can happen in that time.

The quiz finished and your team did terribly but none of you cared. You went to get some water from the bar, no one else wanting a drink. Henry saw you get up on your own and took this opportunity to come and talk to you.

"Enjoy the quiz?" he said, his hand resting on your lower back for a second before he moved it away, weird you thought.

"We did terribly but yeah I did. You?" you said, making him nod down at you.

"How have you been?" he said, making you smile.

"Really good. Busy but good" you said continuing with "How about you? How was filming?"

"Amazing as always. Good to be back though" he said, the both of you turning your head to your friends when you heard one of them wolf whistle.

"Excuse them. They're a bunch of children" you said, raising your voice a little so they hear, Amy and Emily hit the guys to shut them up, making Henry laugh.

"They seem nice." he said, making you look back at him.

"They're a pain in the ass but I love them" you said, making Henry smile.

"Your brothers were really sweet" you said, the both of you turning your heads the other way to see his brothers.

"They're a pain in my ass too but I love them" he said using your own words.

"I know this might seem like a weird question but are you seeing anyone at the moment?" he said and you saw him glance at Lewis.

"Nope. He's just a good friend. He's handsy with everyone" you said laughing to yourself.

"Hmm" Henry said, making a mental note. You're single, nice.

"Your friend Amy invited me to your birthday... What did she call it?"

"Bash" you said at the same time, making each other laugh.

"Yeah... Don't know why she decided to call it that. You don't have to come if you don't want to. I'd understand" you said, taking a sip from your water.

"Do you want me to come?" he said, making you smile.

"If you wanted to." you said, placing a hand over his.

"Okay, guess you'll see me there then. Maybe we could go for coffee before? Have a proper catch up?" he said making you nod quickly.

"I'd love that Henry" you said squeezing his hand.

"Good. You do look really good by the way. Beautiful" he said making you blush.

"Thank you. A bit overdressed for this place but none of us get the chance to go out so we made it a tradition to dress up a bit for this quiz. Stupid I know" you said, looking down slightly so your hair covered your blushing cheeks. Henry's fingers glided across your chin lightly, lifting your face up to look at him.

"Not at all. Sounds like a lovely tradition" he said, his fingers dropping from your chin. Your own fingers tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Thanks. Haha. I'll let you get back to your brothers. It was really nice seeing you. Text me about that coffee date yeah? You still have my number?" you said making him nod.

"Okay" you said walking back to your table. Henry smiled at you saying it was a date before walking back to his table. You sat down next to your friends breathing out deeply, you felt like you hadn't taken a breath since you were standing with him.

"How did it go?" they all said at the same time.

"Fine. We're going to meet up for coffee sometime before my birthday bash" you said cringing slightly at the name making Amy giggle.

"Everything with him feels so intense," you said, rubbing your temples.

"Ooo I love it. Imagine what the sex will be like" James said making everyone laugh. You looked over to his table again seeing him already looking at you, he winked at you making you blush and look back to your friends.

Well this is going to be... Interesting.

Part 2

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me. 

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes. 

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name. 

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him. 

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed. 

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him. 

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer. 

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes. 

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee. 

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking. 

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee. 

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion. 

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply. 

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker. 

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do. 

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned. 

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere? 

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions. 

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious. 

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing. 

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk. 

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has. 

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually. 

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face. 

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out. 

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue. 

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see. 

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.  

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection. 

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey. 

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work. 

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while. 

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open. 

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here. 

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go. 

I should... but I don’t want to. 

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. 

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas. 

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar. 

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time. 

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes. 

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide. 

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day. 

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over. 

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides. 

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan. 

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch. 

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it. 

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater. 

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over. 

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him. 

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy. 

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet. 

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it. 

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him. 

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit. 

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half. 

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car. 

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building. 

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside. 

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today. 

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss. 

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​ @elorcan-trash​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[donutloverxo]

My moon and stars

**not my gif**

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is for @our-marvel-universe's birthday! I'm so sorry I'm late and that I'm bad at summaries.

Divider by @writeyourmindaway

Date posted - 26-08-20/Wed

Summary - Steve swoops in and saves your birthday with some stargazing and confessions.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 1386

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You groaned as another person bumped into you, spilling a good amount of their drink on you. They didn't even bother apologizing, probably thinking that you're just a nobody, even though this was your party.

You had never had a huge birthday bash before or tons of presents, you were so naively excited when Tony told you he was throwing you one and inviting the whole city. You felt for some reason, they're here because they care for you or the super hero work you do everyday.

You couldn't be more wrong. Most of them didn't even know you. Your own family and friends, other than the Avengers had failed to show up. Now you could only look at the crowd of people and shake your head in disappointed.

Resisting the urge to punch Tony in his stupid face when he so smugly asked, 'You like the party?'

You would've, despite everything, but he wasn't here. He was gone on some stupid mission. Not that you cared that much. He wasn't yours, he didn't need to wish you a happy birthday or attend your party. You still couldn't help but hold out hope that you'd both stop dancing around each other.

No longer interested in the party where even the people you knew were completely drunk you made your way over to your favorite part of the compound.

You held on to your jacket a little tighter as you shivered, the wind messing up your fancy hairstyle. You looked up at the sky to see so many twinkling stars and beautiful colors, something you don't get in cities. You wouldn't trade this view for anything.

You instantly became alert when you heard someone stand behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see the man of your dreams, your captain, someone you had a hopeless schoolgirl crush on.

"Hey." Was all he said giving you a pathetic wave as you huffed.

Folding your hands over your chest you asked "Where were you? You didn't even tell me you were leaving. Not - not that I'd care why would I?" You stammered as you feared you had just accidentally revealed your deepest secret. "You're not that important Steve!" You yelled in an effort to backtrack.

He furrowed his brows before giving you a stupidly handsome smile, "I'm so sorry doll. But I'm here now. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter." You said dejectedly as you turned around to lean against the railing and continue your stargazing.

"I just knew you'd be here when I didn't see you at the party.” He mumbled under his breath as he stood next to you. You could see him staring at you through your peripheral vision. “What’s wrong kid?”

You winced at the nickname. That’s what he thought of you, that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A Kid. Over the months, you had tried your best to act like an adult, taking some tips from Maria and Nat, to be cool and non-chalant, you doubted he’ll ever change his mind and think of you as a woman or a possible romantic partner.

You shook your head which only made him probe further. “Doll. You’re sulking on your own birthday. You can talk to me.” He assured you putting his hand over yours.

The warmth of his palms and his finger drawing patterns on the back of your hand felt so familiar and comfortable. You tried looked for his sparkly blue eyes best you could in the dark, his pupils blown wide.

“I used to think... I know this is childish but I thought - I don’t know people appreciated me putting my life on the line everyday. And that’s not why I do it obviously.” You had to clarify. You could pretend to hate him but you never wanted him to have a low opinion of you. “It’s just sad that no one sees the work that I do while you’re all so well known and beloved. It’s sucks to be a female avenger I guess” You shrugged.

He gave you an understanding smile and walked a step closer to you as you tried to calm your heartbeat. “I understand. It’s not childish. You deserve to be appreciated. And I can think of at least a couple hundred people who’re thankful to you. All the lives you’ve saved. You make the world a better place.”

“I don’t know how true that is.”

“Well you make my world better just by being here.” He argued.

“Steve,” You shook your head, “You can’t just say things like that! I’m not – it gives me false hope.”

“False hope?” He repeated cocking his head to the side. “I only ever speak the truth sweetheart. In fact I think it’s time for your gift.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you.

You frowned as you tried to read the paper in the low lightening. “Oh... Steve.. you named a star after me?” You looked up at him to see him sheepishly scratch his neck. “That’s so romantic.” You sighed dreamily holding the document close to you.

“I asked around and Bruce told me I could do that. I could even get you a piece of moon but this felt more appropriate. I know how much you love stars.”

He rambled on about the whole process and how his assistant helped him, hoping you wouldn’t see notice how red he was. His gift wasn’t completely selfless. He had an objective, to make you his forever and ever. But he was too scared to ruin the relationship you two did have and lose a precious friend.

Bucky’s words echoed in his head ‘Real men can admit their feelings.’

He cleared his throat “I was hoping –“ he was cut off by your cool lips pressing against his, stealing his breath away. His hands naturally went to your waist to pull you closer to him, his taut body craving the warmth of your soft one.

You pulled away after a beat and blinked up at him. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I thought...”

“No no I liked it. In fact I was hoping to do that.” His fingers traced the outline of your lips.

“Good.” You nodded not sure of what to say next. But it felt better to just not say anything at all and look back up at the beautiful sky in comfortable silence.

Until the whole team decided to ambush you from, you heard Clint and a drunk Tony sneaking up on you, they really weren’t as sneaky as they thought but you still humored them by acting surprised.

“What the hell girrrl? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. But then I was like we can just ask FRIDAY! So we did.” Tony grinned proudly as his words slurred.

You took the beer bottle away from him “Yeah I’m going to cut you off now.”

“What were you doing here though?” Clint asked and you said something about needing air.

Steve couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to the rest of the team. Feeling a bit of jealousy and even frustration that they all had to interrupt the precious moment you both shared.

“Did you do it punk?” Bucky asked slapping a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Uh yeah. I mean I didn’t – she did.” He replied lowly so no one else could find out just yet.

“Of course she did.” Steve frowned as his oldest friend clutched his stomach, laughing loudly at him. “After all these years you still haven’t changed.” He shook his head and all Steve could do was smile. “I’m happy for you.” He said and meant it, so proud of his friend.

When Steve was finally able to get you alone, glad that your mood had gotten considerably better, you even seemed to be a bit buzzed from the booze.

“You were right Steve.” You said holding onto his arm treating him like your own personal heater as the night got cooler. “Everyone who matters to me does appreciate me. Especially you.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to peck his lips before scurrying off to tell everyone about the star named after you.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and feedback are really appreciated! ❤❤

[luthientinu]

Of Pirates, Healers and Commodores- Prologue

James Norrington x oc fic

AN- Hello everyone. Super excited to share this. This is posted on Ao3 and fanfiction.net. Without further ado here is the prologue.

The stars twinkled merrily in the night sky. An occasional shooting star would streak across the sky and disappear as suddenly as it came. A gust of wind would occasionally roll by, fluttering the sails as it passes.

A young woman stood by the railing staring up at the sky looking for constellations. An occasional mumble would escape her as she named the constellations she could find. So enthralled she was with the night sky she did not notice someone standing near her.

  "I bet ya a bottle a bottle of rum I can find more constellations than you" rang out Jack Sparrows drawling voice.

"Ah! The mighty Captain has finally decided to grace me with his presence. What is it Jack? Did the rum run out?"

"I never run out of rum luv. So what say you, Eleanor Katherine? Do you accept my wager?"

"Without a doubt. Let us proceed'', Ellie stated with a smirk and a mock bow.

  "Ladies first"

Ellie did not lose a second as she stated "Cassiopeia"

"Orion"

"Cygnus", she shouted after a glimpse of the night sky.

Jack looked up for a moment. "What is it Jack? The rum addled your brains?", she smirked at him.

"Oh no! Quite the contrary! It enhances my wits"

The naming and bantering went on for sometime and the bottle of rum wagered was shared between the two. It gradually watered down into a quiet conversation. Jack stared at her affectionately, she had grown into quite the woman and he was so damn proud of her. 

"You are not going to fall in trouble aren't ya luv? You are not to sing Yo Ho and My Jolly Sailor Bold everywhere you go", he grinned at her suspiciously red face, "That will get you into a pickle and a jolly hunt similar to that followed like last time ."

"I was six and I did not know there were soldiers approaching me." Ellie stuttered and without missing a beat she shot back at Jack, "Besides you were supposed to be with me remember? Not enthralled with rum bottles!"

Jack held up his hands and conceded defeat. Ellie grinned victoriously. It was quiet for a while until she spoke up. "I will be fine Jack. I made promises that I will stay safe and I intend to honour it. Besides please visit me whenever possible because I am going to dearly miss you and our bantering."

 "Me too luv..me too."

Next- Chapter One

Series Master List

(AN- Hope you all liked it. I hope I did at least a miniscule of justice to Jack's amazing accent. Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome. If there is anything I need to improve in my writing please tell me. Thank you once again for reading this and giving my writing a chance❤)

Tag list: @kenirubes

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

-

PART 10

“Meet me in the meadows after hours? -D”

You smiled down at the piece of parchment that was sticking out of your Charms book. You looked around, trying to see how Draco managed to slip it in your book. Not seeing the blond anywhere, you tucked the note in your pocket and resumed your day. 

It was your first day back to Hogwarts from the holidays. Before you got to school, you picked up something for Draco as a thank you for his presents for you. At first you wanted to send it off, excitement getting the best of you, but his worried expression that was engraved in your mind made you worry. What if the wrong hands got the presents? You knew Draco didn’t like his home. You chose not to risk it and decided to hold onto it until you saw him in person again. So far, there hasn’t been a good time to talk to him. Everyone was too hyper with seeing each other again that Draco was almost, always surrounded by his Slytherin followers. 

On your way to the Great Hall, people were greeting each other, happy that they got to see their friends again. The trio were nowhere to be found, which isn’t a good sign, given the past few years. The twins were in the Great Hall, already making the entire Gryffindor table burst out in laughter. They were showing off their new product, another pranking item, as usual. Blaise was their first target. You shook your head, praying that they won’t get in too much trouble for their pranks. 

You couldn’t wait for the day to be over. You stayed silent at the Hufflepuff table, not in the mood to talk to any of your housemates, who avoided you like the plague anyway. As people started to disperse, you followed their lead and retreated to your dormitory. You glanced at the two bottles of cologne on your dresser, smiling at the memories each held. You sprayed some of the evergreen cologne on your wrist, something in the air drawing you to it more than the golden one for today. 

You’ve noticed that you were torn between the two most days. Some days you opted to use Cedric’s cologne, his absence hitting you more than you would like to admit. During those days, you would read his journal, which you’ve already finished, and spend extra time on the page where he declared his love for you. You would close your eyes and repeat, “I love you, Cedric.” You repeated it like a mantra, hoping that wherever he was, he was able to hear you too. 

Some days you used Draco’s cologne, missing the boy’s presence a bit more than normal. You’d spray it and imagine his hands writing the note to you in his perfect handwriting. How he was probably concentrated over the piece of parchment, maybe even sealing the envelope with a kiss. It’s wishful thinking, you knew that, thinking that Draco may feel something for you too. But it lived in your mind, never letting you rest from the thought. 

Once they called lights out, you waited a few minutes before slipping out to the garden and into the passageway. You looked at the small box in your hand, heart beating against your chest. You were more than nervous. What if he didn’t like it? What if you misread the situation entirely? 

“Y/N.” 

You didn’t realize you were already in the meadows. Your feet knew exactly where to go without directions from your brain. You stopped, breath hitched in your throat. Draco stood there, paler than ever before, eyes sunken in, and a bit skinnier than you remembered. He smiled widely when he saw you emerge from the passageway, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He walked over to you, arms parted as if he was about to hug you, then he hesitated. A blush covered his cheeks, dropping his arms by his sides, and shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his toes. 

Sensing his awkwardness, you outstretched your arms, beckoning him to come close. “C’mere.” 

He reluctantly obeyed, stiffly hugging you back. You sighed, running your hand across his back, feeling the hardness of his spine against his jumper. You squeezed him tighter as you felt him melt into your arms. You cradled him like that for a while, letting him bury his neck into the crook of your neck. He was hunched over, letting you cover him like a safety blanket. You treasured his scent, shivering when his cold fingers accidentally traced over the skin on your neck. 

He flinched, quickly moving away, “Sorry.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, hating the way he pulled back like it was second nature. You walked over to him, lacing your fingers with his, hoping he’d see that you didn’t mind the cold. You tugged on his hand and walked down deeper into the meadows. “I got you something.” 

Draco looked at you, confused, as he stared at the little box you held in the palm of your hand. He took it, inspecting it closely. “For what?” 

“For Christmas, silly.” You giggled, urging him to open it. You chewed on your bottom lip, growing more and more nervous as he made his way to undo the bow on top. “Thank you, by the way. For the cologne.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” He replied, sincerely. He opened the box and saw a silver ring in the middle of it. Draco picked it up, noticing the engraving on the outside of the ring. It looked like it was your handwriting. 

You are good.

Draco took in a harsh breath. He kept his head down, tears congregating in his eyes. Nobody has ever told him that. All his life he’s been known as the heir of Slytherin, the Slytherin prince, a Malfoy- a name that held so much weight that he didn’t want to carry. He re-read it, over and over again. His thumb rubbed against the engraving, memorizing the way it’s engraved within the metal. Before he slipped it on, he felt the ridges of the inner engraving. He tilted the ring to the right and read the words inside. 

You are not the choices forced upon you. 

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling once he read those words. He still kept his head down, embarrassed that he was crying so much from your present. He was silent, quietly sniffling and breathing out shaky breaths. Silence fell upon the two of you, meters apart. Draco was looking down while you stared at him, biting down on your thumb, unsure of what to make of his reaction. 

You grew scared and decided to break the ice, “I’m sorry if you don’t like it. I just noticed that you no longer had your Slytherin ring and I thought you’d like a ring as a replacement. N-not that this ring is as good as your Slytherin ring, Merlin knows it’s probably not as good of a quality but maybe you’d lik-”

“I love it.” Draco interrupted, finally looking up. A real smile was etched on his face, tears slipping out of his eyes once again. He slipped it on his finger, almost jumping when he saw a faint yellow light blink from the ring. “What was that?” 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You blushed, stepping closer to him. You held the hand that sported his ring, watching it light up again. “I used magic to make it more personal to us. Whenever I want you to know that I’m thinking of you, it shoots out the light. You wrote in your note that you were thinking of me and I just wanted to show you I’m thinking of you too.” 

“You’re thinking of me right now?” 

“Always am but I don’t think you’d want it shooting out yellow lights all the time.” You laughed. “I’m sure people would get a bit annoyed too.”

He stared at it, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “Let them be.” 

“I hope you like it.” 

“I love it.” 

“I’m glad.” 

Draco closed his eyes, thinking of everything that happened in the Malfoy Manor throughout the holidays. Would you still think of him as a good man if you found out what he did? To find out what he’s being forced to do? He knew you would never look at him the same if you found out. And if he was being honest, he doesn’t want you to ever stop looking at him the way you do now.

You look at him with stars in your eyes. You don’t look at him in hopes of getting something, in hopes to accomplish something. You’re not using him for his name, for his power. You’re not expecting anything from him but his true self. You’re looking at him like you want him. It’s the way you looked at Cedric the first time he saw the two of you. It’s the way he looked at you all those years. Now, you’re looking at him in the same way. Call him selfish, but he wasn’t ready to give that up. 

A piece of him broke knowing as much as he felt for you- dare he say it, as much as he loved you, he would never be able to love you the way he wants to. He itched his forearm, his reminder that life will not always be kind to him, the way it is now. Draco ignored the burning sensation on his arm and found the courage to look at you again. Your eyes twinkled with innocence, cheeks rosy, and nose red because of the cold. You were shivering under the moon, awkwardly rubbing your hands up and down your arms for warmth. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. He knew it probably didn’t help much, given his own struggles with being warm, but he did it anyway. Draco just wanted an excuse to be near you. 

Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist, head resting on his chest. You felt calm listening to his heartbeat against your ear, beating steadily. He let his lips ghost over the skin of your forehead, not daring to actually touch you. They were warm, much to your surprise, and continued to almost touch you. His lips hovered over your skin, blowing soft breaths of nervousness. You could feel his heart starting to beat quicker, uncertainty taking over his body. Draco wanted to kiss you. More than anything. 

You waited for him to do something, hoping that you weren’t reading into signs that meant nothing to him. He waited for a sign, afraid of what you might do if he acted on his urges. He wanted to make sure you wanted him the same way. He placed his chin on top of your head, looking down at his hands holding onto you tightly. A flash of yellow caught his attention. You were thinking of him. 

Before he lost his confidence, he pulled you away from his body for a moment, cursing at the way he already missed your weight on him. Your exterior faltered, afraid that Draco changed his mind about you already. You looked down, ashamed that you would even think that Draco could reciprocate the feelings you harbored. He tilted your chin upwards, eyes nervously flickering between your eyes and your lips. Draco looked for signs of hesitation in your features, growing more confident when he saw none. He kept his fingers under your chin as he leaned in, heart almost bursting out of his chest. He was sure you could feel it against your body. 

He watched as you closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. Your lips were red, plump and he couldn’t wait to place his on top of yours. He darted out his tongue, licking his lips to dampen them. Draco followed suit, eyes closing, as he leaned closer and closer to you. 

When his lips finally met yours, his knees almost gave out on him when he heard your soft whimper at the contact. He was in love with all the sounds you made, so innocent and so lovely to him. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your chests were pushed against each other as his grip on your hips tightened even more. His lips worked against yours flawlessly. You smiled into the kiss, making him do the same. Airy giggles and mutters of adoration were exchanged in the moments that you two kissed. 

Once you pulled away, Draco connected your foreheads, smile still plastered on his face. His eyes were closed and he looked so happy. This, you thought, this is what I want to remember for the rest of my life. Draco looked like he was glowing, his happiness radiating off his skin. You intertwined your fingers, using your other hand to touch the new ring on his finger. He opened his eyes, watching your movements. 

“You are good.” You whispered to him, lips kissing the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. Then his nose. Then his forehead. Finally, you placed a soft kiss on his lips, red and raw from the kiss you shared earlier. “You are not the choices forced upon you.”

-

A/N: just an fyi, there’s probably only 1-2 more happy chapters then it gets to heavy angst. beware. 

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[heyyyharry]

Love Bites

(a blurb from the “My Girl” Series)

Warning: Smut.

Word count: 2020 (lol)

AU: older!harry, younger!y/n (4-year age gap).

Anon: Hey mg harry making out with bambi and maybe she left some marks on him and thr next day he has to shoot for a naked scene .At first he tries to refrain from opening his shirt but later does and when everyone teases him about it he just gets do smug because he fucked her right. And then maybe telling bambi all about it at night when they're in bed or she is sucking him off. Could u write smthng about it??

.

.

.

One, two, three, four.

Four love bites scattered across his neck. He’d forgotten how long he’d been staring at them as if they would disappear if he looked long enough.

When he returned to the room, she was still perched on the bed, her hair damp and her skin flushed from their intense love-making. She pushed herself up and blinked innocently at him. “What?”

His irritation was easily detectable. He marched toward the bed and pointed to the red marks she’d left on his neck. On contrary to the horror on his face, she fell back, laughing into her palms.

“It’s not funny!” he grumbled, his face growing hot. She caught his wrist before he could storm out, dragged him back to the bed so he could sit on the edge. She scooted over on her knees, hugging his waist from behind, her cheek cool against his naked back.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Was he mad at her?

“I told you not to leave a mark,” he heard himself say and looked over his shoulder to find that she’d pulled back, frowning.

“I didn’t mean to.” She stroked one of the love bites with her thumb. “I’m sure they can cover it up with makeup.”

They could. But it’d be so unprofessional to show up on set with hickies all over and make people wait for you to get it covered up. He wanted to say that, but what came out of his mouth was a dejected sigh.

“I should go.”

As he rose, she moved toward the edge of the bed, looking up at him with her big twinkling eyes. “I didn’t mean it, really,” she whispered.

He considered her puppy dog face before dropping down on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her temple and gave a reassuring grin to ease her nervous frown. “It’s okay, kid. Might be a bit embarrassing but—” he chuckled, shaking his head. “God, Brian will tear me apart.”

Brian was his co-star, his best friend in the cast, and definitely the type to make plenty of dirty jokes about the love bites once he spotted it. Styles! Brian would call from the dressing room entrance so everyone could hear it, Looks like you had a fun morning, mate!

Harry snorted at all the reactions in the room, now more amused than annoyed.

“You’re sure it’ll be all right?” Bambi asked, eyebrows still furrowed. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

He squeezed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “It’ll be fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

.

.

.

She couldn’t help but worry about it.

She’d been reading and writing a bit since he’d left, in order to distract herself until he returned. He’d said it was no big deal, but the look on his face had said the opposite. In her defence, she hadn’t been aware of what she’d been doing. She never felt the need to use her head while he was buried deep inside of her, so she guessed it’d been her fault; she’d been careless.

She didn’t know if his contract had specifically stated that he should not get any marks on his body during the shooting period of the film. Even if there was, he still wouldn’t tell her. Also, his manager didn’t like her very much because Harry had dropped so many interviews and photoshoots for her, even before they were officially together. Maybe after this Jeff would hate her even more.

She had no idea when she’d drifted off on the sofa with a book opened and faced down on her stomach. She only stirred awake to the sound of her door being unlocked and opened. She pushed up slowly, stretching her limps as she welcomed him with a lazy smile. The aggression on his face worried her. As he marched toward where she sat, she opened her mouth to ask if he’d got into trouble, but he shut her up with his mouth against her before she could say a word. He gripped her hips, pushing her back on the couch with her head on the armrest.

They only broke the intense kiss so he could pull his shirt over her head and palmed each of her breasts roughly. Her nipples were hard, needy for him. She moaned his name when he kissed down her neck. She was only wearing her panties and he was wearing too much, so she pushed at his chest to get him to rise on his knees, stripped off his jacket and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

She got up to straddle his waist as he rotated to sit with his back against the couch. He gripped her thigh and brushed his nose across her chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. She held the nape of his neck, gasping and tossing her head back.

“What happened on set?” she asked breathlessly. He tried to drag her back in when she pushed away from him, gripping his shoulders. He started palming her buttocks, wanting to pull her to his cock which was poking against the fly of his trousers, but she fixed him with her eyes. “If you got hard after filming a sex scene with someone else, I swear–”

He shook his head rapidly and tried to kiss her again, but she didn’t let him until he answered.

“It’s the hickies,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed, either because he was horny or embarrassed to tell her why. “My castmates teased me for it.”

“And you got smug, didn’t you?” she flashed a grin, stroking his hair. He groaned into her neck and squeezed her bum as she ground her clothed pussy against his cock. She was already soaking through her panties.

“Brian said I must’ve fucked you right. You have no idea how much I wanted to say I did.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” she murmured, her eyes shut as he licked and sucked her neck, probably leaving his own marks on her.

“Not sure if I was allowed.” She felt his smirk against her hot skin as he stroked his tongue over her nipple and licked his way up to her mouth, sliding his tongue over hers. “Does it turn you on?” he whispered. “The idea of me...telling my friends...how hard I...fucked...you,” he said between sloppy kisses.

She couldn’t speak; her mouth was wide open but all she could do was nod. She took no time to unbuckle his belt and got him sitting butt naked on the couch. His eyes went dark, piercing at her as he ripped her panties in half and she let out a frightful scream. Before she could scold him, he shut her up with a passionate kiss.

“I’ll buy you ten new pairs,” he hissed against her lips while rubbing her clit. She was so wet she could hear the delicious sound of his fingers moving against her and then inside her. He pulled out before she could cum and inched his dick into her tight dripping pussy. They both gasped when he was all the way inside with nothing between them.

“Move,” she groaned, frustrated, unable to open her eyes.

His hips stuttered a bit before he started thrusting slowly. “Give me a moment. I don’t wanna cum now,” he chuckled, his face dazed with ecstasy. She ignored his helpless expression and started moving her hips and giggled when he smacked her arse as a warning.

“Do that again and I won’t let you cum.”

She simpered at his empty threat. “You don’t have the power to decide, Harry.” She fucked him slowly, rewarded by the wet delicious sounds coming from his throat. “I can just finger myself on that armchair over there while you watch. Get myself off the way I do when you’re not here.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she hissed, fingers tightened in his hair.

Harry growled as he clenched his jaw and palmed her arse, thrusting increasingly faster. He was so big and deep that she could feel him all the way in her stomach. He stuck his thumb into her mouth as he fucked her harder so she wouldn’t scream. The last time they’d been too loud, one of the old ladies from across the hallway had threatened to call the police. She couldn’t look at the lady in the eye after that.

“God, yes, fuck me. Just like that,” she gasped. “Want to see your face when you come in me.” She rolled her hips faster, every nerve in her body tingle and flare in response to his affectionate roughness.

Harry gave a long and rough groan, “Yeah. God–love you so much.”

“I know, baby. Love you too.” She stroked his cheek, biting her lip. “So fucking good, God, don’t stop, please --”

She leaned over him, hair falling across his chest as she moved, fucking herself on him in a rhythm that started slow, almost hesitant, but gained in speed and force as she went.

“So big, Harry. Filling me up, fuck.” One of her hands was in his hair, but her other hand had slid to one of her breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipple. “Gonna come on your cock. Gonna come on you.” Her hand moved from his chest to her clit, and she started to work herself over again, stumbling on the rhythm.

“Shit, let me,” Harry said as his fingers tangled over hers. “Want to–Want to get you off. Please let me?”

She nodded, eyelids fluttering as she found her pace again. He groaned and thrust up into her, matching her rhythm as his fingers rubbed frantically over her clit.

“Oh, oh God, Harry.” She cried out his name again and again as her back arched and she came, hips jerking against his hand, driving herself down on his cock. She collapsed forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head on the couch, kissing him wild. “Fuck me, Harry. I know you’re close.”

She groaned roughly as his hands went tight on her hips, holding her still as he thrust up and into her, hard and fast. She whimpered and licked along his neck, tasting sweat and salt, and Harry bucked up off the couch and pushed her hips down at the same time. He could only grunt as he chased the feeling.

She bit down on his earlobe, her voice shuddered, “Come in me, please, need it. Need you.”

He rutted up against her, mindlessly pushing deep one last time before he came, pulsing into her. She collapsed on his chest, numb and trembling. The only sound she could hear was the buzzing in her ears, the thunder of her heartbeat, and them panting together.

After a few moments of silence, he pulled back and laughed, looking smug at how dazed she appeared. “Sorry. Made a mess on your couch.”

As he grinned at her, she knew he wasn’t really sorry. He reached down and traced where he was still inside her to find his come still trickling out, and she felt herself blushing at the hungry look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t done with her yet. Her body was almost boneless so they might need to take a short break before consider doing anything again.

“I hope these won’t get you in trouble at work,” he said with a smirk, tracing his thumb across the skin of her neck; he was talking about his love bites.

She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. “The only trouble is that they’ll remind Eddie of how single he is, and he’ll torture me with an extra amount of work that I might not do anyway.”

He laughed, shaking his head and kissing her again. When his phone rang, it took him a moment to locate it. He slipped out of her unwillingly but kept her on his lap as he reached for his phone on the floor.

“Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble,” she said and bit back a smile when they saw Jeff’s name on the screen.

[revasserium]

beauty as a perspective (or a study of truth through the lens of a boy who has always believed in fairy-tales)

anon: And it is beautiful with Hinata First love with kageyama? Please :) 

101. and it is beautiful hinata ; 1.8k words

there are so many things he considers to be beautiful -- the sunrise, the sunsets, the way the moon lingers on the horizon after a whole midsummer’s night, like it’s waiting for the first rays of sunlight to spill across the world, the way the stars are relentless in their twinkling, as if emboldened by the darkness that beholds their very beings -- that they are made all the brighter by night’s all-consuming dark. 

there are other things too -- a well-aimed spike, crystal cut and down the line, right next to the pole, a perfectly arched toss, slow enough for thought, but too fast for the opponents to follow, the double-rolling saves that noya-sempai had promised to teach him and still hasn’t gotten around to, the way a clean sneaker sounds against the well-waxed floor of a freshly cleaned gym, the sound of a volleyball meeting skin, the flutter of a net, the chorus of voices as it echoes towards the ceiling. 

the cheers of the crowds when a point gets scored. when a match is won. 

the weight of happiness, so light and yet so, so heavy too, enough to make his bones feel like they’re filled with gold or silver or maybe magic itself. he thinks there’s nothing more beautiful than playing... and winning. 

until he meets you. 

your name breezes through him like a summer wind through wheat, leaving no part of him unruffled and untouched, all this thoughts tangled and out of ordered, but so beautifully so. he watches you go like a child watching the end of a really good dream, powerless to stop it, but still with the naïve hope that perhaps, if he just kept his eyes open (or closed) for a moment longer, maybe, just maybe you’ll stay -- 

“hinata-kun, its your turn to help clean the classrooms.” 

he snaps out of his reverie (did you know that’s the word for daydream in french? how fitting, right? and when tsukki had asked, drop-jawed and all, where the hell hinata had learned such a thing, all he could do was shrug and blush and say he’d read it somewhere -- to tsukki’s compounded shock and confoundment), the teacher is watching him with a hiked eyebrow, and half the class was giggling. but you, you’re standing next to his desk with a sweet, expectant smile and he’s lost all over again. 

(who was he, anyway? before he knew what your smile looked like? what your voice sounds like? what the color of your hair was beneath the morning sun, or in the golden glow of dusk?) 

“let’s do our best, hm?” you offer him your hand. 

hinata had never wished for after class chores to last forever, but he has now. 

he doesn’t know how you get onto the topic of volleyball, but it always ends up there somehow... with him -- and he finds himself rambling like he always does when he’s nervous, blabbing out an invite because yeah! it’s pretty cool! and there’s a practice match today! and oh, yeah! i’m on the starting lineup and of course you can come watch! i’m super awesome y’know! -- 

and then the horrifying, daunting realization that he’s going to have to play. with you watching him. with your eyes, like pools of amber so deep and clear they remind him of melted caramel during the holiday school fairs, with your smile like tasting a favorite treat after a long, hard day’s practice, with your laughter and your voice like -- like -- 

“what’s this? hinata’s brought a friend?” there’s something in the texture of suga-sempai’s voice that hinata isn’t sure he likes but he’s too nervous to call it out at the moment. instead, he tries desperately to explain why the hell he’d brought you along, not that he’s really sure either, other than the fact that he doesn’t ever want you to leave his sight ever again in his whole life but, well, he can’t really say that out loud without sounding like a freak -- 

“uh -- it’s not -- i mean, yeah! we’re friends! i think so at least -- well anyway -- ahhhhh -- she likes volleyball and there’s a practice match today and i told her she could come and watch cause i’m really awesome at it and she just moved here from tokyo, or actually she stayed in france for a while before that! can you believe it? hey -- wait do you know kenma from nekoma? they’re from tokyo too, right --?” 

kageyama fixes him with a flatlined look even as you smile. 

“she’s not from the same school, idiot.” 

hinata puffs up as he turns to kageyama but thankfully, daichi is there to pull them apart before things get really nasty. he flashes you a sincere and somewhat apologetic grin. 

“ah, thanks for coming. you can find a seat up there, and uhm -- welcome to karasuno.” 

hinata finds himself watching you go (he nearly yells when you wave at him from the second level, that is until kageyama elbows him so hard in the side he actually does yell). 

“focus, boke!” 

“shut up, crappyama!” 

“ha? what did you say?” 

“both of you, quiet!” 

they both flinch at the sound of daichi’s voice. 

but hinata can’t help stealing another glance towards you, thinking that this feels different, somehow. different than all the other practice matches he’s played before. it’s like his vision is sharper, all his senses on high alert -- he can smell the sweat on his teammates’ skin, can see each spec of light as it refracts off of the newly waxed gym floors, can feel the weight of your eyes on him like a superhero’s cloak -- beautiful and full of responsibility. 

and he plays well that day, he thinks -- got a few really solid quick’s in, and he only messed up on two of his serves, which, all things considered, is probably a record low for him. kageyama only yelled at him five times, also on the low side. 

they manage to scrape a win, and it was mostly asahi-san’s doing -- noya-sempai being awesome as ever, too. still, he thinks it’s been a good day. he almost forgets that you’re watching for a while, but only for a while, and as the match draws to a close, he’s again keenly aware of your eyes on him. 

he turns to grin up at you, shooting you a thumbs up. he finds you no longer sitting, but standing by the railings, your eyes huge and happy as you wave down at him. there’s a flush to your face that makes him want to walk off a bridge right into a very, very cold river but he shelves that thought for later as you make your way down the stairs, jogging right up to him, your smile so brilliant he thinks he might go blind if he stared too long. 

he blinks, still dripping sweat down his now very wet uniform. 

“shouyou! you were amazing! i mean, you are amazing --!” 

he almost jolts at your use of his given name, but then he remembers you asking (because you liked the sound of it or something; he’d forgotten what you said after that cause he was too busy marinating in the fact that you liked the sound of his name) if you could call him that. and him saying yes. 

“for a while there it looked like you were flying, like really flying!” 

he nods along with your excitement, his smile growing so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt and god, what what happen if he just kept on smiling wider and wider? what would happen to his face? would it stretch and keep on stretching? or maybe he’ll accidentally split his face in half and have to get stitches from the hospital, which wouldn’t be fun but for you, he thinks, it’s worth it. 

“y-yeah! cool! right?” he leaps ups as if to illustrate, but as with all things he does on a spur of the moment impulse, it doesn’t go quite as planned. he ends up smacking his head on the doorframe of double gym doors, leaving him whining, curled up into a ball on the ground, and you kneeling by his side. 

“shouyou? are -- are you okay? oh my god, what happened?” 

he winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, grinning awkwardly up at you. 

“i wanted to show you!” 

“show me what?” 

“what it looks like to fly!” 

tanaka is fussing over hinata, loudly asking if he’ll get a concussion while tsukki is remarking to that getting a concussion might be good for him; noya and tanaka are both laughing so hard they’re also curled up on the ground. 

you giggle, “save some flying for next time.” 

“for... next time?” 

“yeah, for the next time you play.” 

“will... will you be there?” 

you smile, nodding, offering him a hand. 

“if you want me to be.” 

“yes! yeah -- oh man, i do! i really really --” 

“good, then i’ll be there.” 

“aahh, that’s amazing! super great! ahhhh i’m so --- mmmm -- i’m so happy!” 

he leaps up and is about to jump up again before he realizes you hadn’t let go of his hand yet. 

he blinks, heat washing up his face like jumping head-first into a steaming onsen. 

“hey! you said you’d save some for next time, right?” 

hinata laughs, “right -- for next time.” 

you give his hand a squeeze before letting go, turning to greet his teammates. hinata watches you, like he’s been doing from the second he’d set eyes on you a week and a half ago, when you’d introduced yourself to the class. 

like when he’d all too enthusiastically volunteered to show you around the school, like when the pair of you had stopped in the library, and you’d run your fingers along the spines of all the books like greeting old friends. 

like when you flipped open a book of fairy-tales and traced the outline of a boy with melting wax wings, plummeting from the sky. 

“you know, i used to always daydream about flying as a kid,” you said. 

hinata quirked his head, “why?” 

you smiled, “dunno, seemed like a fun thing to do.” 

hinata smiled then too, “well, it’s not that hard.” 

you looked at him, “you... know how to fly?” 

“sure i do!” 

you laughed, then, but not a mocking kind of laugh -- a delighted, dancing kind of laugh that made hinata’s whole chest fill with hot air and helium. 

“you promise to show me some day?” 

hinata had nodded so hard his head might’ve come right off it’s hinges. 

“hey, what’s ‘daydream’ in french?” he asked. 

you blink at him, “reverie.” 

“wow... beautiful.” 

you laughed again, nodding, “it is, isn’t it?” 

and he decides then, watching as you smile at something suga-sempai says, as you quirk your head curiously at kageyama, making him flush a hilarious shade of crimson as well, that sure, there are a lot of beautiful things in this world. 

but none of them quite so beautiful as you.