#also no shading bc i spent half an hour trying to get it right but the colors were off. oh well

[iknaenmal]

Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely

I will pay the bill, you taste the wine

[somethin-human]

I realized I’ve never actually drawn Damien yet lol

Damien headcanons!

He’s half Asian, half white

He used to be super nervous about his scars after the inversion but afterwards with talking to a therapist, he actually thinks they’re super badass

(I wasn’t entirely sure how to draw this without making his design look weird but I’ll make an updated version whenever I can) Literally right after his powers burned out while he was fighting the shades, his hands because like badly burned. After, the burns healed and now his hands have full on scars on them with this really weird texture to them.

Again, he feels super nervous his burn scars and he still does, but Huxley will just take his hands and feel the texture of them bc he says it feels nice. It makes Damien a little less self conscious about them, but he still doesn’t like them.

He keeps everything that his friends make for him (example: The rock from Huxley that he turned into a necklace, the bracelet Freelancer made him.)

He definitely has tried dying his hair (without bleach for some reason) but his hair is way too dark so nothing shows up unless it’s in the sunlight.

His favorite physicality about himself is his little freckles and beauty marks.

He truly believes that it’s a good day if his hair looks alright.

Little singular black earring (because he lost the other one and he’s still looking for it. Everyone tells him to just buy a new set but he swears he knows where he put it.)

Huxley is obsessed with plants but Damien isn’t as fond of them because of his allergies. He does have a small pot of flowers that Huxley gave to him as a “test plant” (before they started dating) and he’s managed to keep it alive til this day. (He says he would feel really bad if they died because it was a gift from Huxley.)

He religiously plays Mario Kart just to be better than everyone in the friend group the next time they play.

Lactose intolerant, like severely, but he still will eat velveeta shells and cheese out of spite even if it means shitting for 2 hours straight.

Gavin ironically gifted him a big gulp cup from 7/11 as a secret Santa gift. He refused to get rid of it because it was a gift but he also refuses to use it so he just keeps it in the back of the cup cabinet.

All his life was spent trying to make his mom proud but after she was being super homophobic to him, he had an identity crisis for like a month.

Probably a Sagittarius or Aries

He tries to be a minimalist but Huxley’s a maximalist so it’s kind of hard lmao

[birdstooth]

Drawing MASTERCLASS

lol jk thought I’d show some of the process here in case your other favs aren’t online and u have a couple of min to waste while waiting for the bus

🎵Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair🎶

On the left, u have janky first draft, and on the right, u have less janky second draft😅. Depending on how much time I spent on draft 2, I might do a final cleaner version, and then then add colours :)

My hard limit for a doodle/comic is 3 drafts for reasons that I will go into below, but basically I find that if I try too hard, it triggers the perfectionist demon and then it’s not fun anymore lmaoo

For me, 2-3 drafts is the balance between making something I can look at without cringing, and still have fun drawing lines and shapes.

Also it’s ok to have a very very, objectively bad first draft. My brain is like Swiss cheese so if I spend too long trying to get something down on (virtual) paper by making it look nice, half the idea floats away before I can make a record of it.

So first of all, since this is the unofficial website for ppl with crippling anxiety (roll call! 🙋‍♀️), just thought I’d say: if u are on the fence about posting your [content] online, go for it!!

I used to look at all this really cool [content] (art, writing, photography w/e) and be like “wow, that’s some good content! I’ve got a long ways to go before my content can reach that standard!”.

Or sometimes, I would see amazing content with very few notes and think “whoa, if this extremely accurate recreation of the Mona Lisa made with used gum found under park benches has only 12 notes, it’s not really worth posting what I have, right?”

But then at some point I decided that it was easier (for me) to make stuff that was vaguely funny instead of “good”, so I stopped trying to draw the perfect shapes with the perfect shading, etc. and just went with like, the minimum accuracy required for an object to be recognizable lol.

I’m not saying don’t chase your dreams or whatever, but try not to force yourself into a style or content type that doesn’t suit you. I have a short attention span and a zillion ideas, so for me, it’s actually much more satisfying to make these goofy little doodles bc I can do quick sketches between procrastinating at work, or while I’m watching my dinner rotate in the microwave 🥲.

When I was in my “every drawing must be perfect” phase, I would spend hours on making sure the proportions were realistic, and the lines were clean, and spend days or weeks in a single piece. Some people are suited to this kind of work and have the patience to see it through, but for me it was very unsatisfying and sapped my motivation so I decided to be realistic about my abilities + the time I have available to improve my skills (I think this is very important bc u might have the patience and the work ethic to practice, practice, practice until you are at the top of your game, but if you have a job or school or other obligations, it might not fit into your schedule) and do a kind of compromise.

Yeah, I’m still envious of other people’s content and no, I don’t think my content is the BEST I can do, but it’s a balance between doing what I like and getting satisfaction out of it. Sometimes, if you push yourself too hard, you end up hating what was supposed to be a hobby, u know?

[ooglywooglies]

sorry im posting a lot about race stuff today i wasnt expecting it to be a topic on my dash but i actually have been thinking about it a bit recently in terms of like, my own experiences with racism. but im kinda weird right, like i usually say that my experiences with racism are pretty like medium/mild because im asian, right asians are like the furthest up on the barrier between white and not white. east asians are just BARELY not white (especially if youre not diaspora, i will find a way to turn this into hating japan [the country not the people] as an asian)

but im in a weird spot because i live in australia, there are a LOT of asians here, because asia is literally right there, im like an 8 hour flight from vietnam which is crazy as someone who grew up disconnected from my culture on the other side of the planet (im pretty sure my grandma got send to one of those assimilation schools when she got shipped to the midwest when she fled to the US after the vietnam war but she doesnt talk about that stuff so idk)

and ive talked about some experiences with racism ive had to other asians here and theyve been like WHAT THE HELL?? because theyve hardly interacted with white people for most of their lives despite growing up in australia which is a white (british) settler colony obviously

ive dealt with a LOT of racism growing up, because i grew up in rural minnesota and wyoming and im mixed race and the white side of my family is a lot bigger and more connected than the asian side (my parents broke up like around when i was born, and my dads pretty non confrontational and avoidant so i never spent a lot of time with him growing up even though thats not what he wanted) so not only am i really really used to being the only POC in like a 10 mile radius im also used to being the only POC in my own family (a lot of racist comments ive gotten have been from my own mother, sister, grandmother, aunts, etc. bc their proximity to me makes them think its okay to treat me that way, they know me so they know i dont have the power to fight back)

and its not like i havent experienced racism in australia, ive experienced plenty and ive only been here for a handful of years, its usually in the same vein as the racism i got from the rural redneck types that im used to except maybe a little bit more tactful

like sometimes i get assumed to be japanese, or that im like a mail order bride, but its not usually "is your vagina sideways" the only time they converge is when people make comments about my people being poor/dirty/primitive, implying that we are basically monkeys or cavemen or that type of thing. yeah turns out if youre not from one of the BROWN asian countries instead of one of the cool/rich ones thats how it goes

im light skinned but ive had weird comments made about me whenever i get a tan, people tell me i look like im from a 3rd world country when i get a shade darker in the summer

ive probably talked about that a bunch on here, i kind of catch myself falling into a loop about it bc i dont really have anyone to talk TO about it, all my confidants are white and they just go "ew that sucks" which, i mean i get that thats all they really have but its not very comforting either yknow

anyway the point is im getting distracted by the dumb bullshit ive experienced bc the point was that i feel like lately ive been trying to quantify my experiences with racism to figure out "how bad it is" bc like, even with everything ive just said at least its not violence, and i dont think anyone has even ever said anything to me maliciously its always just been ignorance, and im like, LIKE I SAID IM NOT EVEN FULLY ASIAN tbh if you go by blood/dna/whatever im not even HALF asian im at least 75% white, mostly norwegian (and i like to acknowledge my norwegian heritage too, it informs a lot of that "minnesota culture" i grew up around) i just usually dont pass as white (usually if i do its bc im hanging around white people who are used to what asian people are SUPPOSED to look like, which is evidently not me, but im not sure if i actually pass as white in those settings or just "not asian" people tend to mistake me for latino a lot [so mestizo probably])

i do suspect that my poc-ness has affected my ability to get a job, more often when i was living in rural areas people tended to give me the stink eye a lot when they saw me, and theyd act kind of grossed out when i applied for jobs, i have a white name so people seem to have an assumption shattered when they meet me after seeing my name, its hard to confirm if thats real or not though. all my jobs ive ever gotten have been through nepotism :thumbsup: (theyve been really shitty horribly paying jobs though)

why am i thinking about all this am i getting distracted again, ig bc ive been thinking about the thing i said at the beginning where anti-asian racism is really mild compared to other forms of racism bc (east) asians are the closest to whiteness

i guess its still a pretty fucking wide gap though, like even pretty and privileged asians still have to deal with a bunch of the stuff that i have and i AM a pretty privileged asian person despite not being japanese or something since im on paper barely asian at all

im just thinking about the fact that its like, i go through all this and im on paper barely a poc, like imagine how much worse it must be for 1) full blooded asians 2) any brown person who isnt (east) asian 3) black and native people

im not gonna get too far into how much worse other people have it, mostly bc they can speak for themselves and this is just a personal post, ive had plenty of time to consider my place of privilege concerning people who experience racism harder than me but this post is supposed to be about people who have it better than me mainly i think

i didnt even talk about actual white passing asians, like i have a sister who is fully white passing but is just as asian as me and i didnt talk about it at all, i think mostly bc i cant really imagine what its like to have her perspective, it must be complex as well, but i have to imagine its different. and how weird it is to be so different just for having a couple of features present differently, for us to look on opposite ends of the spectrum and have a really similar genetic makeup (we are only half siblings but we have a dad in common and both of us have a white mom from the same region)

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[leetotters]

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.��� her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[whoslaurapalmer]

listen i Could inquire about something else out of some kind of feeling of politeness or fairness

but you know it. i know it. we both know it lets not pretend otherwise. I want to hear whatever im allowed from the post-canon lemzest snippets

:D

-i know i said i was letting the ask fics i got last november go, BUT i would still like to do the lemony/ernest one i got, which was, god what was even the prompt for it???? oh it was stolen kiss!! hadn't gotten that far into it yet. but i love this paragraph a lot.

ernest sat at the far end of the kitchen table, wearing my dressing gown with the sleeves rolled up so they wouldn’t be in his way, the fabric draping open over his chest, his chin propped up on his hand. he looked as he always had, thin and angular with a perhaps dangerous smile -- dangerous in the way a smile from a partner is often full of some sort of mischief, not dangerous in the way of previous danger we had both partaken in -- although now we were at the point in our lives where there was a touch of grey at his temples, which he was handling, at least outwardly, with a little more composure than his brother. ernest liked to watch people, and I had yet to figure out if this was a habit left over from half a lifetime as a hotel manager of complicated standing, or a personal trait where he simply enjoyed openly and unashamedly observing what he liked. it had been disconcerting to me, after the years I had spent alone, to be the center of such intense attention. but I couldn’t deny that it was nice, or that I myself was in fact indulging in a similar habit. there is a great joy, and an even greater comfort, in being able to admire the things and the people you love.

-it hits all the Things, you know. the intimacy of wearing your partner's clothes. the soft thread of the relief of being alive and here, to have this moment. they've totally had sex

-there's a couple sentences i have in my notes app because, like, okay -- lemony and the denouements in general interacting with post-canon baudelaires is Very Intriguing to me, in terms of the remains of the sugar bowl gen interacting with the children they failed, ESPECIALLY frank and ernest, and especially lemony interacting with them at all, but it needs a lot of. structure work. for me to hang a fic on it. like there's a lot of emotional stuff i've got to get through in sunny fic, specifically, about just lemony's failures at minimum, before i can even really think about adding the denouements, and before i can get around to all of them just hanging around.

BUT i also think it's like. terrible, and really really funny, the idea of the baudelaires going 'our adopted middle-aged guardian-like man is dating the guy who at the very least Caused Some Problems, and what are we going to do about that.' which led to some jokey lines that will very likely never fully exist in a fic bc what on earth would i possibly put around them, but make me giggle when i scroll past them --

sunny leans her elbows on the table. "so this is the boyfriend?" she asks, grinning.

lemony goes a very intense shade of red; the man next to him grins back at sunny.

"worry not, miss baudelaire," ernest says, pressing his free hand over his heart (the other is holding lemony's hand). "i will return him at a reasonable hour."

-i also have a very specific image i keep trying to put in wips with the two of them but i have yet to get it exactly right. lemony has a scar on his thumb (as mentioned in 'an afternoon long ago') and ernest likes to (absurdly tenderly) take his hand and kiss it and it short-circuits lemony's brain every time.

[ushittyoldman]

nobody’s fault but mine (pt. 2)

Levi wouldn’t really be Levi if he knew how to handle his intense feelings for you.

pairing. levi x fem!reader AND a little bit of jean x fem!reader (b/c once again i am a slut 4 jean too)

warnings. some fluff, language (b prepared for a lot of the f-bomb)

a/n. hi sorry 4 the long wait, life is a little hectic rn (it’s snowing n our power has been going out on n off for the past few days lmfao also school b lowkey kicking my ass) BUT i wanted 2 say thank u so so much 4 all ur feedback to part 1 it was so so so unexpected n sweet n flattering i literally still can’t wrap my head around it. i would rly appreciate some feedback 2 this one too since this is A LOT more levi n i actually adored writing him but i would luv 2 know what u guys think of my characterization of him (im a little nervy) but yes feedback is encouraged! this is kinda long but a lot happens so i rly hope u guys appreciate this n enjoy it bc it took me so long 2 write n rewrite it heheheh (side note 4 the sake of age n everything, all the 104th cadets r actually 18+ including our cute lil reader) also! pls continue 2 request more levi ok that’s it 4 now enjoy!

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Jean!”

The hushed voices stirred you out of the pleasant state of unconsciousness you had been in. A sharp pain shot through your head as you slowly opened your eyes, blinking quickly to adjust to the bright light. You flexed your fingers subtly as an attempt to gain awareness of yourself and your surroundings. Once you were comfortable, you slowly turned your head to your right and saw a scene you had grown painfully familiar with– Jean arguing with someone. The victim of the week was Armin, and you almost wanted to laugh at the quick back-and-forth between the two.

“Your bedside manner… sucks,” you managed to mumble. You cringed at the uncharacteristic hoarseness of your voice.

“There she is!” Jean exclaimed, shooting a victorious smirk at Armin, before fondly looking down at you, as he moved closer to your side.

You heard multiple gasps of your name, and you quickly turned your head to your left, before regretting it due to the sharp pang that followed in your head. Nevertheless, you mustered up as bright a smile as you could, looking at your friends who had all taken various positions throughout the room. Eren was the first to your bed, embracing you tightly.

“That was scary,” he softly mumbled your name, before pulling back, “Don’t do that again.”

The concern on his face startled you momentarily, and you couldn’t help but avert your eyes. You blinked quickly before looking up and shyly smiling at Eren.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You then looked up at your fellow cadets, who stood surrounding your small bed in the infirmary. Your love for these people sat heavily in your chest, and you beamed up at them, before you realized you were in the infirmary.

“What happened?” you genuinely asked, your husky voice taking you by surprise again.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened!” Jean scowled, crossing his arms in anger, “That little bastard—”

“Jean, you can’t say that about the Captain!” Sasha chided, looking sideways in fear as if to emphasize her point.

“Captain, my ass!”

You attempted to stifle your giggling, yet your mood significantly dropped upon remembering Levi’s treatment towards you this past month. You tried to conceal your obviously bothered expression, but you felt a hand softly ruffle your hair. You looked up and smiled at Reiner.

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo, I’m sure he’ll tone down the punishments after this,” he reassured, obviously mistaking your dejection over your unreciprocated feelings for Levi for something else.

Appreciating the gesture, you continued to smile up at him while nodding softly. Reiner had a comforting presence, and you felt your mood brighten slightly.

“Fingers crossed,” you deadpanned, earning a soft laugh from Bertholdt, who had taken a seat at the foot of your bed.

Jean’s relentless bashing of the Captain continued, as Sasha, Connie, and Armin attempted to calm him down, warning him about the consequences they’d all have to face if word got back to Levi. Eren gritted his teeth in irritation, as he glared up at Jean, threatening to “knock him out if he didn’t shut up,” while Mikasa had silently moved around the chaos to rest her calloused hand on your own, silently squeezing as a gesture of comfort. You squeezed back.

“Look, all I’m saying is he obviously has it out for her. She’s a better soldier than all of us– even you, titan boy— and it’s still not good enough? I call bullshit!”

“I think he’s just trying to be a good teacher, I’m sure there’s a lot I can still improve on,” you justified, and all eyes turned to you.

“There’s not,” Mikasa bluntly stated, leaving no room for argument.

Your friends all agreed, and you scrunched your nose playfully to conceal the warmth that had spread throughout your body at their praise. You worked hard to get where you were– there was a satisfaction in knowing that all of your effort wasn’t going unacknowledged.

“Jean-boy’s right—”

“Bastard!”

“—Captain Levi has been unnecessarily cruel to her, and we’ve all noticed it!” Eren’s fists clenched in anger as he ignored Jean’s yelling.

“But the Captain isn’t the type to hold grudges or act impulsively, so I think there’s something deeper to it,” Armin reasoned, apologetically glancing at you in case his words offended you.

You nodded softly, not wanting to worsen your headache; however, it didn’t really matter when Jean’s painfully loud voice retaliated almost immediately.

“He overworked her to the point of her passing out from exhaustion and severe dehydration!” His eyebrows furrowed in anger, and his sandy brown hair bounced with his every move.

You winced from the pain in your head, and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Reiner, who glanced at you from where he stood.

“Jean— inside voice, yeah?” Reiner softly spoke, subtly tilting his head down towards you. Jean’s gaze softened and concern replaced the anger on his contorted features, as he apologized to you.

“Yeah, seriously, what are you getting so worked up for?” Connie innocently asked, before a knowing look crossed his features. He turned to his partner-in-crime, and the two donned shit-eating grins as they turned back to Jean.

“Right, that’s why.”

Bertholdt, whose lanky body had been horizontally lying across the bed comfortably, sat up onto his elbows and cluelessly asked, “What’s why?”

Sasha’s smile widened, and she crossed her arms, mimicking Connie’s knowing smirk. “It’s because Jean-boy, here, is sweet on our dear little—”

“Would you shut up!” Jean yelled louder than before, fists shaking in anger. His face was flushed an impossible shade of red, and you would’ve joined in on the laughter, had your head not exploded from the pain.

You were fully aware of the incessant teasing Jean received regarding his relationship with you, and you would honestly be lying if you said you didn’t get a kick out of it as well. Deciding to spare your friend today, you sent a good-natured smile to him, hoping that would be enough to quell his frustration.

Had you not turned to converse with Eren, you wouldn’t have missed Jean’s dazed smile.

While talking to Eren, your mind briefly drifted to Levi and the situation that was weighing heavily on you. You didn’t want to believe that the Captain hated you– you desperately grasped onto your excuse that he was simply a harsh teacher. And yet, you knew there was something more to it.

In a panic-driven moment, you momentarily wondered if he had somehow found out about your feelings for him. You remembered him telling you about his upbringing— you knew better than most that Levi and confessions of love did not go together... at all. Before you could further dig yourself deeper into the pitiful hole you had been in the past month, a painfully familiar voice broke through your intrusive thoughts.

“You know how loud you are? This isn’t a damn daycare.”

“Sir!”

All conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt. You couldn’t help but grow amused at the sight of Eren and Bertholdt scrambling off your bed to stand and salute their superior. Your small smile was wiped off your face when your eyes met stormy grey ones. You quickly looked down, before inhaling quickly and swiftly pulling your bedsheets back. You attempted to muster as much strength as you could, ignoring the multiple eyes on you. You gracefully stood up from the bed, and turned to Levi, managing the salute as well. You slowly looked up at him.

“Sir,” you shakily mumbled, internally cringing once again at the uncharacteristic rasp to your voice.

You received proud looks of admiration from your friends, though Jean’s remained more concerned than proud. Idiot! he thought to himself. We know you’re strong, now’s not the time to prove it!

Levi, meanwhile, had tried his very best to suppress the guilt that had been eating away at him for the past day; however, it had only worsened when he saw you and heard your weak voice. Upon making eye contact with you, he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize profusely for everything he had put you through, audience be damned. 

Levi had spent the better half of the day pacing around your room in the infirmary wing of the Scout Regiment’s base, lost deeply in his thoughts, as his concern for you weighed heavily in his heart. After a few more hours of pacing, he had finally come to the conclusion that he was an idiot (a grade A, unique brand of idiot all in a league of his very own), and that he was in love with you.

Where the first realization annoyed him to high heaven, the second one brought him a sense of peace that was only heightened every time he had looked at your unconscious form.

Levi, uncomfortable with the amount of self-actualizing he had done that day, had left the room after softly caressing your cheek, hoping to convey all of his guilt and apologies and love into the simple gesture. Once he was away from the infirmary wing of the base, he inhaled deeply, itching for the comfort of a cup of warm tea. On his way to the mess hall, he had passed by your friends from the 104th, all undoubtedly on their way to see you. Levi’s eyebrow had slightly risen upon noticing the varying looks of defiance and anger on each of their faces. He had remained unfazed, his half-lidded eyes looking away, as if he hadn’t even seen them at all.

Somehow, it was harder to face them now with you standing amongst them. 

His face retained its usual impassive and bored expression, yet it momentarily faltered when he noticed you slightly stumble from where you were standing next to the hospital bed. Levi’s heartbeat quickened, and he made a subtle move to rush over to you to catch you for the second time that day, but Jean was quicker. The taller man had been keeping a watchful eye on you, and had quickly dropped his salute to stand behind you and steady your slightly uncoordinated form. You comfortably relaxed backwards into his arms as you sent a grateful smile up at him, and he softly smiled back in response, leading you back to the bed.

Levi was both relieved and a little fucking pissed off.

“Visiting hours are over— I need to talk to the brat,” he lazily said, authority ringing loudly and clearly in his command.

For the first time in all his years of captaining the scouts, there was a quick hesitation after his command.

Levi raised an unamused eyebrow at each of the cadets, silently challenging them to disobey him. Despite his threatening aura, he wouldn’t blame any of your friends if they were to defy Levi. The Captain deserved it for his treatment of you— he’d take it like a man.

Your eyes widened in surprise when your friends subtly glanced at you, silently asking if it was okay to leave you alone with him. Upon hearing Levi’s request to talk to you, your heart had begun to uncontrollably race and you swore you could feel it in your throat. You were disappointed in yourself for growing excited at finally being able to talk to him. 

Blinking quickly, your cheeks grew hot under everyone’s gazes, so you reassuringly smiled at your eight friends, and you once again felt the genuine love you had for them erupt within your heart. 

Ever the peacemaker of the group, Armin signaled for the rest to follow him out of the room, and they each uncertainly walked behind him. Mikasa squeezed your hand once more before following closely behind Eren, who sent you an encouraging smile. Bertholdt subtly sent a thumbs up to you, while Reiner winked at you as he looked over his broad shoulder. Your smile widened; however, it faltered when your eyes met Jean’s. His irritated expression worried you, yet before you could respond, he turned away and walked past Levi.

Levi had to give it to Jean— not many people had the balls to openly glare at the Captain.

Once everyone was gone, the tension within the room increased tenfold. You looked at Levi, and you bit your lip in contemplation, anticipating what he would say. Many thoughts rang through your head.

Was it another punishment? Was he going to yell at me? Did he find out about my fee–

“How do you feel?”

You almost had to pinch yourself. After one month of barely any interactions with your friend— if you were still even allowed to call him that— you realized how starved you were for pleasant conversation with Levi.

“I’ve been better,” you breathed out, still cautious. “How… how do you feel?”

Even after such an unpleasant experience, your unwavering kindness shone just as brightly. Levi’s heart ached so sweetly, and he internally groaned upon realizing how fucking whipped he was.

He silently stepped forward, pulling a seat to the side of your bed. Once he was seated, Levi looked into your eyes, and you felt your breath hitch at the intensity of the swirl of emotions dancing within his normally cold eyes. He exhaled softly.

You noticed how tired he looked.

“Just peachy.”

There was a pregnant pause, and you came to realize that there was just too much you wanted to say to him, and you didn’t know where to start. Your soft eyes held his sharp gaze.

“You scared the shit out of me, brat.”

Your heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and your eyes widened in response.

“I did?” you internally slapped yourself at your stupid response.

“Yeah. You did.”

“Sorry, sir,” you softly mumbled.

“Levi… just Levi.”

The Levi in front of you was a completely different man from the one who you’ve had the pleasure of interacting with over the past month. You thought back to your friends and their anger at your mistreatment, and you thought of the many unfair punishments, cold shoulder treatments, and overworking during training (despite you being second only to Humanity’s Strongest, himself). Slowly, your incredulity at being treated like a lapdog began to dim and was replaced by your growing indignation. Though you were no stranger to standing up for yourself, you still felt your anxiety skyrocket as you looked back up at your superior.

“Do you hate me, Captain? Did I… did I do something?”

And there it was.

Levi knew the question would come up at some point, and yet he still felt ill-prepared in his response. He knew this was a big step for you— in the whole year that he’s gotten to know you, he learned how much you hated confrontation. You blatantly ignoring his request and choosing to address him by his title caught his attention, and he frowned. When he looked into your slightly watery eyes, a warmth spread throughout his chest, and he had to clear his throat.

“Don’t say shit like that, you haven’t done anything.”

Levi wanted to punch himself— he was never good with words.

You, however, weren’t fazed by the manner in which he spoke. You had fallen for the man, harsh words and all.

“Then why have you—” you paused as you momentarily lost your voice.

Levi thought it was cute (to be fair, he found everything about you endearing), yet he knew it would be inappropriate to openly admire you when you were so clearly upset with him.

“Sorry,” you grew embarrassed and licked your lips, “It’s just… well, why have you been ignoring me? And— and yelling at me? We stopped drinking tea together, and practicing in the forests. You don’t even acknowledge me when I talk to you! I’m sure you have a really good reason, sir, but I just—”

Levi detested the sick feeling of guilt that churned within his heart. In hindsight, he really should’ve thought it through before he began his little plan of distancing himself from you. How else was he supposed to tell you oh, everyone in the fucking Scout Regiment wants you, and so do I, but I haven’t done anything about it because I’m a pussy, so I just decided to take it out on you and wallow in my own self-pity like the sad little man I am, without sounding like he was deranged.

“—I just miss you.”

Levi’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and his breath hitched. This time it was the sincerity in your eyes that made him look away quickly.

“I…”

I’ve missed you too, dammit.

At his lack of a response, your eyebrows furrowed, and your irritation grew. Your small hands balled the soft bedsheet, and you swallowed to soften the burn in your throat before speaking.

“Why did you even come here?” you scoffed indignantly, attempting to mask your hurt, “Was it to just to yell at me some more? Oh, I know! Maybe I need to run through training ten more times again, right?”

The guilt churned even more in his chest, and Levi seriously wanted to punch himself. He willed himself to say something— anything— but he felt speechless in front of you.

“Levi,” you hoarsely spoke with desperation, and he looked into your watery eyes. “Say something, please.”

It was as if you had read his mind, and a slight feeling of reassurance quelled the storm in his heart; you really were the only one for him. As he met your eyes— your beautiful, enchanting eyes— he felt his self-hatred skyrocket at the amount of hurt in them. He had grown used to seeing them filled with humor, kindness, and a soft edge that was rare to find nowadays. Yet seeing them filled with such pain and hurt was unsettling, and Levi went mute for the fifth time that day.

You nodded in understanding when he failed to say anything, and your heart clenched. Jean had been right— you were nothing more than a lovesick puppy. You blinked quickly as a poor attempt to conceal your tears, yet nothing ever escaped the Captain’s attention.

His gaze softened, and Levi found out something else about himself— he really didn’t like seeing you cry.

“Shit, please don’t cry,” he tenderly mumbled, as he leaned closer to you and gently cupped your face to wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumb. 

Your breath hitched and your full lips involuntarily parted. You relished in the warmth of his touch, and you wanted nothing more than to lean into his comforting hand. Your name fell from his lips, and you felt yourself come back to reality. Remembering just how you had gotten into this situation, you decided to stand your ground. Despite everything in your body begging to give in and accept this moment with the Captain, you stood unwavering in your decision.

You gently grabbed his large hand with both your hands, and moved it away from your face and into your lap. You held it there loosely and delicately rubbed your fingers over his hand soothingly before eventually stopping, and looking back up at him.

His usual bored expression was long gone, and in its place was a very tender and vulnerable expression. A storm was brewing in his grey eyes, and you distantly remembered stargazing once with him. You had desperately wished you could read his thoughts— somehow, you had found his daunting eyes more fascinating than the starry sky. You felt an ache in your heart at the intimate memories, and you really really wished Levi loved you the way you love him.

“You know what, Levi? It doesn’t even matter if you hate me, because—” you inhaled sharply. 

This has to be done, you reassured yourself, or else you’d be subjecting yourself to an onslaught of hurt and heartbreak. 

“—Because I hate you.”

Your lip quivered and your broken voice faltered. And of course, Levi noticed.

His eyes darted down to your lips at the slight movement. His hands had stilled, and he decided that getting eaten by a damn titan would be much less painful than this.

And then he’s looking at you. You looked back at him, yet he’s looking at you— through you— in that way that makes you want to hide and hold your ground at the same time.

“Right,” Levi drawled, and you knew he didn’t believe you (hell, you were unconvinced yourself). His eyes reverted back to their cold nature, and he ran a hand through his hair, allowing the silky strands to softly land against his forehead.

He stood up, and wordlessly gave you a onceover. Under his scrutiny, you felt yourself grow insecure, but deep down you desperately hoped he’d stay. You bit your bottom lip in apprehension, and Levi’s eyes softened at the sight of your nervous habit.

How is it that he could kill titans all the livelong day yet when it came to this sweet girl, so small and disarming, he couldn’t even utter a single word?

Levi had never felt more pathetic. He peered down at you, momentarily debating whether it would be right for him to attempt one last thing before finally deciding fuck it, and gently cupping your cheek for the third time that day, bending down, and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. He gingerly inhaled your enticing scent, appreciating how even after the hell he had put you through, you still smelled so alluring.

You were positive that Levi could hear your heartbeat. You blinked many times in disbelief, as he pulled away and sent one last lingering gaze down at you. 

Levi slightly smirked at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks, his half-lidded eyes drinking in the mesmerizing sight of you sitting up in your bed and gaping up at him, your cheeks flushed and wet with the remnants of your tears. He turned around and silently left the room. 

He had ignored every part of his body that begged him to stay.

▲▼▲

“Shut up, I can barely hear them!”

“Ow— Bertholdt, you’re stepping on my foot!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Watch it, horse face!”

“Eren.”

“You piece of shit, I’m—”

The piece of bread that had been tightly held in Sasha’s grip suddenly fell to the floor. Everyone went silent.

“Holy shit, I think… I think he just kissed her.”

Jean really hoped Sasha was wrong. 

He decided to ignore the fact that her freakishly good hearing bordered on supernatural, so there was really no way she could’ve been wrong with a mere wooden door standing between her and the conversation.

“I knew there was something going on between them! Reiner— pay up.”

Reiner muttered several curses under his breath as he pulled out a hefty stack of cash from his pocket. Connie’s grin widened.

Armin had glanced up at Jean, slightly alarmed at the dark expression on his face. Before he could comfort his friend, the door suddenly opened. Everyone scrambled to straighten themselves up, attempting to act like they hadn’t been just eavesdropping on the entire conversation between you and the Captain.

A chorus of sir’s rang throughout the large hallway, and Levi grew amused at the sight before him. His lips twitched upwards, and the cadets had to almost physically stop their mouths from dropping open at the sight. Levi’s ghost of a smile disappeared when his eyes met Jean’s seething ones.

The two held each other’s gazes, Levi’s expression being cool, while Jean’s had been irritated. Levi was not a fucking idiot; he knew the kid was in love with you.

Join the fucking club.

Levi, realizing that this was the exact reason he had gotten himself into that mess with you and not really wanting to sour his somewhat good mood, looked away from Jean to nod at the group of your friends.

“As you were.”

He brushed past Jean, his gaze as intimidating as ever, as he silently walked down the hallway. Jean’s fists clenched tightly. Once Levi had turned the corner, the group exploded into chatter, their reactions varying from stunned to adoring.

Jean really really fucking hoped Sasha was wrong.

▲▼▲

Your horse trotted proudly through the vast landscape, the wind blew through your open hair, your friends teased each other amicably, and your excitement grew at finally being cleared to join the scouts on their next expedition. Though you hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, and you’ve been a little too preoccupied to eat much, nothing could bring your mood down at this moment.

You were alongside your friends as you all followed the section commanders as their horses galloped into the edge of the forest. The mission for today was to exterminate any titans who had wandered too close to the walls. A simple mission, and you were more than capable.

You had been in a great mood.

Until your eyes landed on Levi.

He had been further up, leading his own squad. He had turned around to respond to Gunther, and that’s when his eyes had met yours. Your internal conflict grew, and you ultimately ended up averting your eyes and ignoring him, deciding to maintain your cold treatment towards him. 

Him kissing your head had only further confused you, despite the sweet butterflies you felt every time you thought back to it. Levi’s treatment towards you had unexpectedly changed since that day in the infirmary, and it had reverted to the way it was before his sudden aversion to you, though there was something much sweeter in his actions. You swore you were getting whiplash.

Though he had been significantly kinder to you, you had held your ground, unrelenting in your declaration. Part of you was terrified that if you gave in and became comfortable, he’d suddenly return back to the yelling, the punishments, and the overworking. Part of you also didn’t want to face reality— your feelings were unreciprocated, and they would only serve to bring you a world of heartache and sadness.

Your cold shoulder towards him was nothing compared to the way he had treated you. Yours mainly consisted of avoiding him, and when that wasn’t an option and you had to interact with him, you kept it civil and short. Your heart would ache, but you knew it was for the best. It helped that Jean would offer approving smiles and words of encouragement, even going as far as to smirk when you had ignored the Captain.

Levi, meanwhile, had frowned when he noticed that you ignored him. Again.

In all honesty, he did deserve it, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like a bitch. He grew irked at your display. Levi hoped you would understand that him kissing your head and showing affection towards you was his grand confession of love. You knew he was shit with words, and he hoped that that would be enough.

He was sadly fucking mistaken.

His attention had been on you the whole mission. Even when the scouts had to dismount from the horses to use the ODM gear through the trees, he had somehow managed to keep a watchful eye on you. You were graceful as ever as you flew through the trees, though his observing gaze noticed that your reaction time was noticeably slower than normal. He had also noticed the dark circles under your usually bright eyes, and he grew worried upon noticing your overall state.

Levi, himself, wasn’t faring much better. He was getting virtually no sleep, running completely on caffeine, adrenaline, and pure will, yet he still made sure he was in excellent shape when it came to these missions— humanity was resting on his shoulders, after all.

The firing of a flare gun in the distance indicated that the group would be encountering titans— a lot of titans— from the left. The soldiers prepared, all eyes focused on the left. You had conveniently taken up the right-most end of the formation, and your attention had also been on the left, your blades held tightly in your hands.

It was only by chance that Levi decided to glance down at you as he soared above you in the middle of the formation. Your eyes met once again, and Levi’s heart lurched at the beautiful sight, when movement behind you immediately caught his attention. A large abnormal with the ability to jump from tree to tree had suddenly appeared and made an attempt to grab you. Your attention had been solely on Levi, so you hadn’t noticed, especially over the roar of the wind in your ears.

Levi’s eyes widened, and he yelled out your name. The rich baritone of his deep voice reached your ears, and you turned slightly behind you, yet you reacted too slowly. Your body jerked backwards, flying so far from the group. You flew through the air at such a great speed that it took you by surprise when you slammed against a tree as the wires of your ODM gear grew tangled. The abnormal had missed you— barely. Your head slammed against the tree and you felt the wind knocked out of your body at the impact.

You whimpered at the hell of a hospital stay you’d have to face after this.

The abnormal almost seemed to be grinning wider upon realizing that it had successfully subdued you. You attempted to quickly stand up, though your body yelled in agony at the movement. Willing yourself to fight back, you shakily stood up, tightly gripping your blades that had miraculously not fallen to the ground throughout the struggle. You winced at the searing pain that shot through your head, yet you clenched your teeth in determination. Realizing that your gear was broken and therefore useless, you quickly discarded yourself of it, and felt some of the tension in your body alleviate now that you were significantly lighter.

“The hell is she doing?” Jean yelled incredulously from his spot next to Levi, and the other members of the group looked on in shock as they all attempted to make it to you in time.

“She’s fighting back,” Levi spoke through gritted teeth, his worry for you eating him alive. His eyebrows were furrowed in stress and anxiety, and he was now soaring impossibly fast through the trees in order to reach you.

Stupid brat. Stupid, resilient, little brat.

“Attagirl!” Oluo and Eld cheered, and Petra shoved them, warning them to stop their blatant ogling in the middle of a dangerous mission. They skillfully dodged her attack, grinning at their adept use of the ODM gear.

A noise towards the side caught their attention, and the group realized the titans they had been anticipating were now in sight. Levi coolly assessed the shitty situation, before commanding that most of the soldiers take care of the titans, while Levi, his squad, and some of the 104th’s cadets would assist you. The group split up, and Levi turned his attention back to you, his heart thumping against his chest.

As the titan made a move to grab you, you exhaled quickly to focus before skillfully jumping onto its elongated arm and running quickly towards its nape. You were defying gravity as you gained speed the higher you went. The titan wasn’t stupid, and it began to grab you with its other arm, yet you anticipated its move. You lithely dodged it, executing a quick front flip as you narrowly escaped its grasp once again.

This was it!

You saw your opening. You leaped forward and pushed your feet against its shoulder as hard as you could, soaring high up in the air above the titan. Muscle memory served you well, and you thought back to the training circuit that had mimicked a situation almost exactly like this one. You gracefully began to spin yourself faster and faster, your cape billowing behind you as you finally readied your blades for the final blow. You yelled out, as your head pain worsened. As a result, your maneuver faltered slightly, almost imperceptible to the human eye. The titan noticed.

It lashed a large hand out again, attempting to grab you, but it accidentally slapped your body away. You cried out in pain, and you flew in the direction of your friends, hurtling towards the ground. You were falling so fast, and you felt yourself grow dizzy from being chucked around so much in the last five minutes.

Eren yelled out your name, a whimper stuck in his throat at the sight of your almost lifeless body spiraling downwards. Jean’s eyes widened, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it in time.

Levi’s heart stopped upon witnessing the titan slap your body with so much force. You were plummeting towards the ground at an impossible speed, and he didn’t even think twice before withdrawing his ODM gear’s hooks and diving towards you within the blink of an eye. His cape flew behind him, and a determined glint had overtaken his angry features. 

You had been bordering between consciousness and unconsciousness, yet the sight above you had been so clear that it almost felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. Your long hair flew around you, creating a curtain around your face, as you looked up at Levi. He had dived towards you, his jaw so tightly clenched. His muscular long arm began reaching out to you. The ground was quickly approaching, and you felt a sense of serenity at the sight of your Captain, despite your confusion and the severity of this situation.

“Levi,” you mumbled, smiling softly.

His face dropped upon seeing the calm expression on your face, and he willed himself to go faster, a number of expletive curses ringing through his head. 

That damn titan. Did it know how small you were? How precious you were?

He spun himself slightly to gain momentum, and he saw you were just within reach. Levi confidently stretched his strong arm out even more, managing to wrap his hand around your arm. He swiftly pulled you into his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist, while the other hand cradled your head protectively against his broad chest. He swiftly flipped himself around to face his body upwards, further ensuring he’d take the majority of the blow in case you two ended up hitting the ground, and shot both of his ODM gear’s hooks into a nearby tree, propelling both of you away from the ground and towards the high branch. You fleetingly realized how familiar this position felt.

Once Levi safely landed, he kneeled, and supported your body against his thigh as he continued to hold you in his arms. He quickly looked over his shoulder, and could make out the sight of the titan falling to the ground. All the members of his squad seemed alive and well, so he turned his attention back to you. His eyes quickly darted over your face, desperately searching for any obvious injuries.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of Levi running his hands through your hair and over your cheeks. The Levi in front of you was leagues different from the cool and composed one you had come to know. He had a frantic look in his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, as he desperately peered down at you. 

“Le… Levi?” You mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse from your recent infirmary stay.

“You are so precious to me, you hear me?” He lowly spoke, panic and anger and a whole plethora of emotions coloring his normally deadpan voice.  

Your jaw fell open and you were almost positive you were suffering from a mean concussion, and this was a hallucination. “Wha—”

“You’re a fucking brat— an incredibly frustrating, resilient little brat— but you’re mine.”

You dazedly looked up at him, and you realized how close his face was to yours. His muscular chest was heaving up and down, and a small droplet of sweat dripped down from his hairline. Levi’s handsome features held nothing but adoration for you, and in that moment nothing could bring you down from the high you were experiencing. You felt his warm hands cup your cheek once more, a habit he seemed to be fond of.

“You want a fucking declaration of love? Here it is— if anything happens to you, I swear I’ll kill every titan on this piece of shit planet,” he spoke, surprisingly unbothered with how vulnerable he was being with you. He moved closer to you, his forehead nearly resting on your own. “I don’t give a fuck if you hate me or not. You’re mine, and I’m yours. And that’s all there is to it.”

Your hand creeped up to grasp the wrist of the hand that had been caressing your face, and you tightened your fingers around it. He froze, momentarily wondering if you were rejecting his confession, and he internally groaned at the thought. 

There’d be no coming back from this one.

“You’re mine?” You shakily asked, a gloriously beautiful smile slowly gracing your features.

“That’s what I said,” he mumbled, attempting to conceal how lovestruck he felt at your smile.

“After… after we get home and I get some medical attention, you’re going to have to kiss me, alright? I’m—”

You were cut off by his lips pressing against your own. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you relished in the soft feeling of his lips molding against yours. You felt an indescribable warmth erupt in your chest, and you whimpered against Levi’s lips. His kiss was soft and warm, a huge contrast to the Levi from this past month. He pulled away just as quickly as he had bent down.

“One for the road,” he simply explained, glancing down at you. He internally smirked at the pretty blush coloring your cheeks— he was always fond of the sight.

▲▼▲

“You’re not serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

You stifled your giggles at Levi’s straight face. Your expression still showed your disbelief at what he had just told you.

“I’m not an idiot, Levi, I know how some people look at me,” you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Even the Commander?”

“Oh, I’m working my way up through the ranks right now, can’t you tell?” You teased, gesturing down to your intertwined bodies, as you both faced each other in his warm bed.

“You’re funny, brat,” he deadpanned, no heat and all fondness as he affectionately pinched your cheeks.

You snuggled deeper into his chest, savoring the warmth that you were enveloped in. You were wearing his shirt— still warm and smelling strongly of him— and you inhaled softly as your face pressed deeper into his chest. Somehow, the slight aftermath of your headache from the recent expedition began to dull slightly.

“I’m sorry again,” Levi murmured, softly cradling your head against his chest.

“Really? I couldn’t tell the first five hundred times you said so,” you teased, looking up at him. Your breath hitched at the sight of his face angled down towards you, dark wisps of hair falling over his eyes and structured face. Levi was so painfully handsome, you could feel your heart flutter.

His eyes were intense, and his guilt continued to stir within his stomach. Seemingly able to read his mind, you pressed a chaste kiss to his warm chest.

“Idiot,” you mumbled, “I really wouldn’t care if the King himself came up to me and proposed, and you know exactly why.” 

“Humor me.”

“Terrifying guy, goes by the name of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier?”

He chuckled lowly, the deepness of his voice vibrating through his chest, and your insides turned to mush. Feeling relieved at successfully pulling Levi out of his little hole of guilt, you yawned softly. Your bruised ribs still ached at times, yet you ignored it this time to cuddle deeper into Levi, who was also on the verge of sleep.

He was sleepily looking down at you, observing your attempts to get comfortable in his embrace, and he softly smiled to himself. His muscular arms tightened around you, one of his hands coming to rest on the soft curve of your hip. He relished in the fact that sleep would be coming easily to him with you here. Levi had surprised himself with how easily he was able to show his affections toward you, and he chalked it up to that being further proof that you really were the only one for him.

He felt a warmth come from the sweet pang in his chest, and it spread throughout his entire body. Levi had learned to associate that feeling with you.

His eyes closed silently, and you pressed one last kiss to his chest.

“Precious,” he mumbled, “Precious little brat.”

▲▼▲

[jonahlovescoffee]

Unbelievable | J.M.

a/n: bc jonah in the unbelievable music video is just hot hot hot hot hot :) i’ve been putting this one on hold for way too long. not rlly satisfied with the way it went but i promise it’s not that bad (i think) lol happy reading <3

summary: jonah’s outfit was unbelievable and so was his ability to pleasure you anywhere, even in the kitchen.

warnings: kitchen smut as requested by @averysbestyears

word count: 3362

“your taste; i could drink, i could drink, i could drink a whole damn case; every drip, every drip, couldn't let you go to waste”

You spent the entirety of your morning out and about running errands, only returning to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend late in the afternoon with bags of groceries in hand. With Jonah out with his band mates to film a music video for their upcoming single for who-knows-how-long, the apartment you shared with him seemed unusually quiet and empty without the constant couple banter between you both. In attempt to lessen the feeling of loneliness caused by the deafening silence, you put on some relaxing music on the stereo before putting away all the groceries, leaving only the necessary ingredients for a chocolate cake on the counter. After tying your hair up in a messy bun, you got started excitedly with your baking, humming softly along to the music as you worked. Despite having baked for countless times before, you still weren’t exactly good at it, your clumsy self often knocking over and accidentally spilling everything and anything everywhere which explained why your counter looked like a chaotic war zone half an hour later when you were done.

You heaved a relieved sigh when you managed to put the cylinder pan filled with cake batter safely into the oven, a triumphant smile plastered on your face. You were about to start cleaning up the kitchen when you heard the faint sound of the door opening and closing so you rushed to the living room immediately to be greeted by the sight of Jonah taking off his shoes at the foyer. He smiled when he looked up and saw you, opening his arms for you which you run into with glee.

“Welcome home, love,” you giggled as he picked you up off your feet and spun you around few times until you squealed and asked him to put you down.

“Missed you so bad,” he said and placed a tender kiss on your head as he followed you into the kitchen, an arm around your waist. “Baking again?” He asked after sniffing the air that was filled with the slightly bitter scent of the chocolate cake that wafted out through the oven, completely oblivious to your lingering gaze on him that was sneakily examining him from head to toe—eyes darting from his tousled brown hair to the dark grey t-shirt that hugged his muscled figure perfectly, showing off the subtle outlines of the toned abs hiding underneath, to his long white jacket that reached his knees and jeans of the same colour—and gosh, he sure looks handsome. How nice must it feel to let your hands roam his body and—

“Baby?” He called, snapping you out of your train of thoughts and you blinked several times at him who was waving his hands in front of you, trying to get your attention.

“Yes, what were you saying again?” You smiled sheepishly at him, light pink tinting your cheeks, embarrassed by your explicit thoughts although no one heard them apart from you. But Jonah had known you long enough to figure out the exact thoughts that were running through your head a moment ago. And as a good boyfriend, he couldn’t leave your wishes unattended, could he?

“Well, I was asking if you need help with cleaning but I think we’ll get to that later, hmm?” A smirk made its way onto his face as he backed you up until your back hit the edge of the counter and he pinned you against it, his tall figure towering over your petite one. “Since you’re so overly interested in admiring my body,” he said smugly and you blushed a darker shade of crimson, guilty as charged.

“It’s...it’s your fault for dressing like this today,” you stuttered nervously while avoiding his gaze, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I’m glad you like my outfit,” he licked his lips before cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head so that you were looking at him directly in the eyes. “But I think you’ll like it better if I take them off, am I right, baby?” He asked, his voice turning husky.

“No! Definitely not! What are you talking about?” You hurriedly waved your hands in front of yourself in denial but your wavering tone wasn’t convincing enough. This bastard already knew the answer to his own question and the last thing you would do was admit it out loud to feed his ego (actually it was because you were too much of a coward to do so but we don’t talk about that here).

Jonah could feel his self control that he had put on himself ever since he walked through the front door gradually faltering at the sight of how innocent you looked on the outside — how flustered you got at the mere implication of sex like you had never done it your entire life — and how much it fueled his desire to take you right then and there in the kitchen, which was precisely what he was going to do. “Well baby, I’ll keep my clothes on then, but this means you gotta lose yours.”

“No, that’s not what I meant...ahh,” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his lips connected with your neck without warning, generously leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your neck, sending a shock of heat through your core.

“Then what do you mean, sweetheart?” With you guys’ handful of previous experiences, it didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot, abruptly scraping his teeth against it, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, earning a moan from you as your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, tugging at his brown locks lightly until a groan managed to slip past his lips.

“I...,” you trailed off, still too timid to speak your mind. When you didn’t make a move to continue your sentence, he pulled away from you and you almost whimpered at the sudden loss of contact.

“Go on. I’m waiting,” he urged, his fingers drumming the countertop impatiently, waiting for your reply. “I won’t start until you tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you,” you replied quickly, spilling out all the words out in one go and with a satisfied grin, he lifted you up onto the counter and he was standing between your legs.

“Yeah? Which part of me, baby?” He teased, both of his hands now on your waist, his thumbs gently tracing random patterns.

“Every part of you, Jonah, fuck. So can we stop with the talking and start doing now?” You yanked him closer by the chain around his neck before finally connecting your lips with his, opening your mouth on a second’s notice when you felt his teeth sink into your bottom lip lightly, granting his tongue full permission to slip into your mouth almost immediately. You couldn’t help but release another moan as soon as you tasted the coffee that he probably just drank in the car on the way home on his tongue.

Not just any coffee. You knew the difference between the tastes of all kinds of coffee like the back of your hand. The bitter taste with a hint of the sweetness of chocolate that engulfed your senses now was definitely not the taste of the straight black coffee he usually preferred.

No, it was the taste of mocha—your favourite type of coffee.

“You prick, you expected this to happen, huh?” You asked when both of you pulled away to catch your breaths, your faces remaining inches apart, your breaths mingling with each other’s.

“Maybe,” he chuckled darkly as his fingers slowly curled around your neck, “We always end up naked after every of my band photoshoots in one way or another so why not be prepared this time?”

Before you can let a string of vulgar curses escape, he attached your lips with his once again and from the way his hand tightened around your neck and the rougher movements of his tongue, you knew that he wasn’t planning on holding back his feral hunger for you this time round, subsequently making you moan with extreme pleasure when your tongues entwined and also at the thought of what he was about to do to you.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, a silent plea for him to take it off, in which he responded with shifting his body enough for you to slip it off, the expensive white material thudding to the ground, revealing his strong tattooed arms. You let you fingers trace his biceps for a moment before moving your hands downwards to pull his shirt out of his jeans but he stopped you before you could remove his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said sternly into the kiss and grabbed both your hands in one hand quickly. He pulled away, biting your bottom lip with a force strong enough to make it swell slightly. “It’s not your turn until I say so,” he snarled and you felt heat pooling at your core just from the serious look on his face. “Now lie down,” he ordered and forced you down with the hand around your throat swiftly but carefully so you were laying flat on the counter, on top of all the spilled flour and some cake batter, the unkept baking supplies pushed to the very end of the counter.

He did not wait any longer to peel your shirt off you and you watched him exhale sharply as his eyes darkened, the black of his pupils almost consuming all the vibrant hazel surrounding them. “Fucking hell baby,” he tossed your shirt aside as his eyes drank in every curves and edges of your bare upper body. You didn’t bother to put on any undergarments when you changed after you got home from your grocery run, thinking that since no one’s home aside from you it’ll be totally fine. You made a mental note to do this more often in future because his stunned turned-on expression was definitely something you would want to see again. “Is it my birthday or something today?”

“You’re not the only one who came prepared,” you said cheekily, adding in a hushed tone, “Just so you know, I’m not even wearing anything underneath my pants either.” A string of profanities fell from his lips at your words as his hand made its way between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside to slip in his fingers. The wetness that his fingers were immediately greeted with was proof enough of your testament, earning a satisfactory groan from him.

“Now, where shall I start?” He asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared down at your shirtless figure splayed on the counter like his own personal feast. “Here? Or,” He teased, his hands travelled down to one of your breasts from your neck and let a finger draw circles around your nipple. “Here?” He tentatively dragged his fingers unhurriedly along your slit, collecting your ever growing slick, which had you whimpering and grinding against his fingers, in desperate need of as much friction as possible, yearning to feel more of him but the movement of his fingers remained so excruciatingly slowly.

“So fucking needy, aren’t you, my little slut?” he tisked, flicking his middle and index fingers between your hard nipple, earning an involuntary moan from you. “I’m barely doing anything,” he chuckled before taking his fingers that were coated in your sticky arousal and bringing them to his mouth, making sure that your gaze was on him as he licked them clean. “Tastes so fucking good as always.”

“Jonah, please,” you begged, “touch me more.”

“Oh I’ll do so much more than touching, babygirl,” you bit your tongue to suppress another moan at his words that were immediately followed by the sound of him falling onto his knees. His fingers gripped your thighs, pushing them further up and apart, his face nearing your dripping core. He let out a little huff on the inner part of your thighs, causing your legs to slightly shiver and your pussy flutter.

“Fucking gorgeous.” he breathed, his eyes staring hungrily at your cunt before laying his tongue flatly against your clit and let you rut yourself against it for a second before he unexpectedly gave it a harsh bite with a little bit of force. You slammed your hands against the counter right away and let out a loud gasp.

“Whoops, my bad,” he chuckled and you felt him smirk against your flesh. “Let me try this again.”

He wrapped his mouth around your throbbing clit before starting to suck it softly, his tongue flickering back and forth against it before moving his mouth lower and sweeping his tongue against your folds. It almost hurt with how incredible you were feeling right now. His mouth was hot against you as his velvety tongue continued swiping back and forth against your clit, faster and harder each time. The way he groaned at the taste of your body intoxicated you with more lust and you soon found yourself unable to think, hear, feel or remember anything else save for the name of the male that was eating you out like it was his last meal.

And when he finally moved his tongue into your pussy, it felt too good to be true. So fucking good that you were about to combust with pleasure. He went at a slow pace at first but then sped up every three thrusts until you were softly chanting a continuous series of “yes” under your breath. It seemed that he didn’t think that was enough, for he moved a finger to your weeping core, the rough pad of the tip of his finger pressing down and moving around in circular movements.

He was so rough but it felt so good, every lick and suck successfully building flares of heat in your adomen. “I...I’m close,” you stuttered, not really able to speak in your current state of bliss.

“Yeah? You wanna cum, darling?” Jonah asked, replacing his tongue with two fingers that managed to slip into you ever so easily due to how wet you were, pumping them in and out quickly.

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, your hands finding their way to him naturally, clinging onto him for dear life as he skillfully finger fucked you, your high gradually approaching with each thrust of his digits. Without any warning, he attached his lips to your bundle of nerves and sucked on it, right when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding and hitting your g-spot. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his thick, supportive muscles.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Your walls tightened on him and an orgasm wracked through your body at his command, back arched while your thighs trembled as you came undone around his fingers. Panting slightly, you tried to regain your breath but before you knew it, his tongue went back to work again, swirling around to capture every single drop of your sweet juices into his mouth, the slurping noises and the ethereal feeling of his tongue on you turning you into a moaning mess.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he complimented, pulling his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, licking them clean while looking at you and you let out an unrecognisable sound from the sight alone. “Couldn’t get enough of you. C’mon here.”

You did as he told, sitting up and scooting closer to him, your hands itching to undress him but you didn’t once you remembered his warning. You despised him still being fully clothed while you were already stripped bare for him but you also knew that one, going against him would accomplish nothing but getting punished on your part and two, he would adhere to your wishes once he felt like it.

And you were right.

“Take it off, I know you want to,” he said and you pulled his shirt off him excitedly before undoing his belt and his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear and they pooled at his ankles, leaving his member standing at attention, already leaking with precut with all the lust bottled inside him.

“Wanna keep you close when I fuck you senseless, baby,” he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock and you whined. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He nudged your folds slightly and you nodded.

“I want your dick so bad,” you admitted with a hint of shyness and his lips broke into a small smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Mmhmm, and I’ll give it to you, pretty girl,” he sheathed himself inside of you and you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Jonah completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasped your hips so firmly his knuckles turned white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands found their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath your hands.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Jonah’s voice was a low growl as he thrusts into you, the slaps of your skin interacting between each thrust was like a sinful symphony. “So fucking tight.”

The smell of the cologne he wore danced in your brain as he worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly

“Just cum already, you know you want to babygirl,” he muttered to you through his clenched teeth, groans of his own escaping every now and then. You took your opportunity and let your pleasure go for the second time, your orgasm taking over as your back arched even more, your toes curling as you moaned out in pleasure.

He came soon after, relentlessly pounding into you throughout his own orgasm, his thick warm seed coating the inside of your walls, the sensation making you shiver as your nipples started to stiffen up even more. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds before he pulled out, the cum sliding out and onto your inner thighs. He stared as it drizzled out for a few more moments before he gave a smirk, glancing back up to your breathless form and his expression softened right away.

“Guess it’s time for a good bath now, love,” he said as his hands reached behind you to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess between your thighs. You tiredly rested your head on his shoulder once he’s done and the paper towels were discarded into the bin.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore though,” you complained, arms already around his neck, hoping that he’d get your hint, which he did.

“Fine, I’ll carry you,” he said with a laugh, hands sliding down your spine to grip your thighs firmly and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he hoisted you off the counter and started walking towards your bedroom. “You always turn into a baby after sex. How cute.”

“I’m your baby so of course I am,” you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“My pretty little baby girl, hmm?” The way his voice dipped a tone when he pronounced those words near your ear made your heartbeat drop to your southern region instantly and you felt your pussy gradually turning wet. Again.

He chuckled, a sign that he felt the changes in your body too, earning a smack on his back from you. “Shut up. It’s your fault.”

“Good thing the bathtub is big enough for two then.”

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelzacharyy @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟒)

part three

note - i wanna thank everyone for reading once again! i'm currently in the process of writing imagines, those will be posted throughout the week, i don't want to clog up my blog bc i want y'all to see this chapter!

this one switches pov a lil more frequently, so bear with me <3 also not as smutty as other chapters, this is more of an emotionally-charged chapter!!! still a teensy bit smutty thooo. i want to make it clear that while this fic is definitely rooted in smut & sex & sex work, it is not porn without plot & will not ONLY be smut as i put effort and time into plot development / character development! i'm sure y'all know that tho. there will be conflict, there will be plot!!! i feel like that's clear already but there's discourse on smut happening rn and i wanna voice myself! omg anyways luv y'all enjoy the reaaad <3

new taglist!

playlist

word count - 8.3k

warnings - age gap, sex work, smut, vibrator, ANGSTYYY like hella dramatic, dirty talk

That slight shift that you and Steve both felt, that happiness that you realized came from talking to one another, only lasted so long... for you. You could hardly sit in your feelings about your situation with Steve before another thing that occupied all your time came crashing down upon you. Except this time, the thing brought you no such happiness or curiosity.

    You had spent almost your entire senior year working on a special lab project about drought tolerant plants in Southern California where you lived and went to school, and your professor was making completing your project incredibly hard for you. And you felt incredibly stressed out about the entire situation - not only was the project necessary to graduate, but it was your heart and soul for the past year. Now, your professor was basically saying it was "ineligible."

     "Ineligible?" Aaliyah repeated after you, after you told her what your professor had said.

     "Whatever the hell that means," you huffed as you power walked down the street, hand in hand with Aaliyah, your free hand holding a coffee.

     "That's so fucking annoying, holy shit," Aaliyah pressed a hand to her forehead. "He had the whole year to talk to you about changing your topic and...”

     "And he never did," you sighed, frowning. You settled down onto a bench where the two of you sat next to each other, staring out into the busy streets and sipping your iced coffees.

California was a beautiful place, and you were a native, you'd lived there all your life. You knew the ins and outs of your city, knew Southern California like it was your backbone. And you loved it here - loved the sun, the beaches, the way the people were either shady in the best way or incredibly friendly. You'd never really known any other place like you knew this place. You were just glad that if you had to be stressed, you could do so in California.

Aaliyah pouted, feeling for you. She placed her hand on your knee to be comforting,

     "Babe..."

     "It's okay," you sighed. You sucked it up, like always, because you had learned how to fend for yourself ever since you realized that depending on others could only lead to downfall. You would figure this out the same way you figured everything else out... on your own. You figured out your house on your own, your job, your finances.

     "Is it, though?" Aaliyah pursed her lips and squinted at you. Despite how much you tried to fend for yourself, Aaliyah was always there for you. She was one of your biggest supporters.

     "I'll just keep visiting during his office hours and work this out."

Aaliyah rolled her eyes,

     "Men are so annoying, girl. You know what, he probably wants to fuck you. With your fine ass. That's why he's doing all this."

You chuckled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, trilling back in response,

       "Okay girl, don't get too ahead of yourself."

       "I'm serious! Men are evil. Oh, except your fave."

You made a face, nearly choking on your iced coffee. This was news to you,

       "Who are we talking about?"

       "You know," Aaliyah sang slightly, nudging you and leaning against your shoulder. "Mr. Won't Show His Face."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but bit down on your straw with a knowing smile, eyes peeking out over the top of your shades. If you were being honest, this idea of Steve, whoever he really was, had been a fun thing to entertain during this period of stress. You'd been talking and engaging with him for two and a half weeks now, and the connection you two had was undeniable.

But you knew better - maybe he wasn't just another customer, because you could really talk to him and felt like he was real - then again, he was strictly a customer. You liked him, a lot, but you couldn't like him any more than you already did. That would be dangerous and silly, and create unrealistic expectations. It wasn't like you could go on dates or anything.

    Still, talking to him (and performing for him) did help to distract you from your stress, at least for a small amount of time. Steve was becoming less shy, less inhibited. He cracked jokes and was starting to keep up with your innate sense of sexuality, starting to navigate you, find you the way a bee might find its nectar, hidden deep inside the curvatures of a flower.

If you were a flower, you'd probably be a sunflower - bright, yellow, almost always in a positive mood, or at least trying to keep yourself in a positive mood. More than that though, sunflowers were tall and looming - you felt like that represented your put togetherness and how hard you worked, how smart you were. Only sometimes it was hard to keep yourself up and tall, but you always did it, time and time again.

But when it came to Aaliyah's comments about Steve, she mostly just made you laugh.

    "Haven't seen him yet, have you?" Aaliyah asked, raising her brows expectantly.

     "No. And I'm fine with that. He's simply another very loyal customer who I happen to like."

     "Hm," Aaliyah hummed, and you could tell her mind was up to something - some very wishful, and mischievous thinking.

     "What are you up to?" you narrowed your eyes at her and glared at her, and she just shook her head with a lazy smile,

     "Nothing. Just thinking that maybe it would be cool if he really was this really hot guy that you actually knew and he wasn't creepy and y'all... you know... started dating. Just to get your mind off a lot of crap. I know, I know, strictly against the rules, blah blah blah. No feelings for customers, it's basic shit. But in a perfect world..."

      "I know," you sighed without thinking, sipping at your drink.

     "You know?" Aaliyah questioned, surprised.

You shrugged,

     "So I've thought about it. Except, you know, in a perfect world, I'd meet a guy like Steve in like, a farmer's market or something. Not on my shady ass cam shows."

Aaliyah snorted laughing, and at the sound of her laughter, you joined in.

You continued,

     "I mean, not Steve exactly, because that would be weird. I just mean, a guy like Steve."

     "You mean a guy who makes you feel the same way he makes you feel," Aaliyah corrected you, and you glared at her again, pushing her gently.

     "Don't push it," you teased, but you meant it - you might have liked Steve, but that was all there was to it - you liked him, he was a distraction. And maybe even that was too much.

✺ ✺ ✺

As for Steve, he thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. He thought constantly about how you made him feel, how much he looked forward to talking to you. How everyday, his worry about your situation becoming more serious dissipated slowly. He could feel himself easing into you, everything that made up this character you created called Moonrose. Conversation seemed casual, like you knew each other in real life, it felt easy, and there was no pressure.

As for your connection, he had finally acknowledged that it was real, and more than either of you had wanted to realize at first. But now, there was no shame, no worry in acknowledging what the two of you had, because you were both smart enough to keep it at this level. It was like a shallow pool. There would be no drowning.

He mostly talked to Bucky about you when it came to the emotional aspect of it. He still feared that if he talked to Tony, it might come across as an issue, and might put a pause on what he had with you. But everyone noticed how different Steve was acting. Even without the phase he had gone through where he was sexually frustrated and angry, he still acted different.

Lighter on his feet, more smiley. And he was always on top of his work. You weren't distracting him from his duty, so that made the fact that he knew you had a unique connection with him more bearable. Because of you, he was learning to worry less. To have a little more fun.

    It was a bright day that week, the sun filtering in through the large windows of the meeting room where everyone was gathered. Steve was engaging in some mindless conversation with Sam and Bucky in which they were debating whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza.

     "No. I'm not sure why everyone keeps trying to put all these twists on pizza. It's pizza," Bucky scoffed, Sam rolling his eyes as a result.

    "You're just closed off. With your old ass," Sam retorted, and Steve made a face. Sam raised his hands up in surrender. "You know what I mean. What about you Steve?"

Honestly, Steve had never even tried pineapple on pizza and he didn't understand why there was such a big fuss about the banal question.

    "I don't really have an opinion," he shrugged, not expecting Sam and Bucky to start clamoring over him and trying to force him to pick a side.

    Before he even got to grasp the situation, he felt Natasha patting his shoulder,

"Hey, mind if I use your laptop? Mine's gone haywire, don't really feel like messing with it right now."

"Yeah," Steve agreed without a second thought, setting his laptop on the table and letting Natasha handle it- she was better with tech stuff than he ever was.

Natasha would use his laptop to showcase some data and start off their morning. It seemed innocent enough —a simple, barely impacting sacrifice. But Steve clearly hadn't thought everything through, because the moment Natasha logged in and hooked up Steve's computer to the holographic projector, more than just data appeared on the screen.

In fact, a whole array of women, all of them engaging in various sexual acts or preparing themselves to, showed up on the screen. And at the top, where the browser was, were the words "girlsonfilm.com."

Steve hadn't noticed all the clamor, too busy thinking (thoughts of you and thoughts of work), until Bucky called it to his attention.

"Steve," he nudged him frantically, his voice a loud whisper.

When Steve looked up at the screen, his face couldn't have gone any redder. He hadn't thought about this at all, and he had clearly forgotten to close out his browser. His heart sunk all the way to his stomach - because it wasn't just Natasha seeing this, it was everybody. And that included Tony, who was glaring pointedly at Steve from the head of the table. Meanwhile, all the others were too busy heckling Natasha and making brash comments about what was appearing onscreen. To Steve's relief, your face didn't show up, but this just might have been worse than only your screen appearing.

     "Woah, Nat, I didn't know you got down like that!" Sam hooted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Natasha, though she was in shock as well, rolled her eyes,

     "This is Steve's laptop."

Now a hush, then another clamor of confusion and heckling, all directed towards Steve. He couldn't recoil any more, feeling the pangs of embarrassment as his eyes flashed between every one of his teammates. He felt as if there were an asteroid approaching fast, and he was right where it would land, too slow to move out of its way.

     "Steve, what do you know about 'girls on film'?" Sam nearly cackled, reading the name of the site.

Steve sighed deeply, locking eyes with Natasha as he mouthed "turn it off" to her.

     "I am, I am," she ensured him, quickly disconnecting the laptop from the projection, unplugging completely.

A beat passed, everyone staring expectantly at Steve, who was staring down at the table, trying to process his own thoughts. Like for starters, why didn't he log out the last time, and why didn't he remember to log out? And then his mind went to deeper places. He hadn't been intentionally secretive with his actions, but he had been intentionally private. It had to do with his own growth, he was learning how to navigate a world that was new to him and somehow helping him at once. He didn't want to have to share this with everyone, it was nice having this to himself, he had no intentions of revealing what he had been doing in his past time that made him so happy.

One of the reasons he didn't want everyone to know about his situation was because he didn't want to have to be concerned with what everyone else might think. Because to begin with, being on a site for cam shows wasn't exactly everyone's idea of what Captain America might be up to these days.

It was a matter of his image, what values he was supposed to hold. This didn't exactly match, and Steve had just gotten over the idea that he was a bad, sneaky person because of what he chose to indulge in. At least here he knew it was ethical and not causing harm to you as a human being.

He also didn't want to have to deal with the insufferable questioning and teasing his team would put him through, or the judgment he thought they might put him through. He felt embarrassed, exposed, and like he had been ill prepared for a situation like this. He was just grateful they hadn't seen more, because that would've been a disaster. What they had seen was only at the surface level of what he'd been doing.

But his thinking was interrupted by Tony's voice, which broke through all the silence, and made Steve realize again the eyes that were on him.

     "Well, jig's up," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Care to explain?"

Steve locked eyes with Tony, as if hopeful that he wouldn't have to, but he knew it was best for him to just spit it out. Tony shrugged apologetically, and Steve took in a deep sigh, looking around at everyone at the table.

     "What was that?" Scott whimpered, probably the most distraught by what they had all seen.

Steve nodded solemnly and began to explain himself. He would tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to tell them everything. You would be left out of this, if anything. He'd just explain to them that sometimes, duty calls - and sometimes, it's not at all work-related.

✺ ✺ ✺

It was just hours before your cam show when another disaster struck, the first one being the fact that your professor was giving you shit about your project. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for your show, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup, laying out an outfit, doing all the things you did to feel pretty before a show.

    Your phone lay beside you on the bathroom table, pinging with messages every now and then. You ignored it, leaning closer into the mirror to get a look at your lipstick, dabbing your fingers into the pigment on your lips.

You smiled, feeling that gratifying sense of achievement. Despite what was going on with your professor, you felt like you were doing well in life. You usually had a positive mindset, enjoyed your work although you sometimes felt as if you were buried deep in all your occupations: student, office worker, cam girl, designer, young woman. Your life was never dull, and you wouldn't trade it for anything. Talking to Steve helped too, but it was more than that.

But that sense of satisfaction all seemed to dissolve when you looked down at your phone, and saw a text from an unsaved number, glaring bright on your glowing lock screen of you hiking with Aaliyah. Still, you recognized it immediately.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I miss you. Text me back.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve wasn't exactly keen on joining your live show today, but he did so anyway, because he still had time to himself despite the spiral of events that had happened earlier. There was nothing else to do, and he didn't want to miss out on you after attending almost all of your shows for the past almost three weeks. Didn't want to just leave unexpectedly.

It felt strange that he felt this tug of commitment, but he brushed it off. He was just fulfilling his needs, which should even be expected of him. He was stressed again, after being caught up like he was. And maybe that was all the more reason not to watch your show tonight, but he wouldn't devoid himself of the simple pleasures of life. He'd learned that lesson a while ago, from a special someone called Moonrose.

After everything transpired, he explained himself calmly to his team, slowly to ensure that they'd understand that this wasn't the beginning of a deviant phase, that he wasn't throwing away his work responsibilities to lurk on the NSFW side of the internet. Not that they ever thought that to begin with, they never questioned his abilities or his authority for a minute, not even in the midst of what they'd seen that had shocked them.

This was the product of Steve's own insecurities and his admittedly silly fear that he was somehow letting his team down. He told them that he was on the site, as recommended by Tony, to relieve some "frustration" that he felt he didn't have the time or the means to release in real life. He said that while it had helped him do that, he wasn't throwing away his responsibilities, nor was he dependent on the site or the things on it, or the people on it for that matter.

He knew that if they knew about you, all those private sessions, all those conversations you'd had, the connection you had built between the two of you, it might be a different story. But because they didn't, they appreciated his honesty. They were confused, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Steve would be into, and he ensured them that it was a shock to him as well.

But they didn't mind on the whole, it was just a shock to everyone at first. They didn't think it called for a meeting, thought it was almost humorous how serious Steve was being about such a trivial situation. Wanda had joked about how we've all been there, Thor denied ever having to do such a thing because: "I have all the romantic partners anyone could ask for. I could introduce you Steve, but these Asgardian women are fiery, far beyond anything I believe you could handle." In the end, Steve was relieved, felt like it didn't have the disastrous outcome he'd been expected.

But he could feel his guard slowly coming back up. That was a close call, and it was a little too close for comfort. He didn't want to disregard you, but he couldn't afford to sink further in, and get his team involved. He just didn't want to face the consequences he could imagine if they knew how much he decided to stick with you, how much you talked, how it was teetering off the range of normal customer to cam girl interaction.

It wasn't like he was careless when it came to his interactions with you, but he also didn't want his team to know about his business when it came to you. He didn't want them thinking he was engaging too much, didn't want it to get to the point where he was worrying again or felt like he needed to deny himself such wonderful feelings.

All these things were on his mind while he waited for your live show to start. When it did, and he saw your face, he felt a little bit alleviated. Just for now, he could have this fantasy to himself. If they knew about the site, so be it. At least he had you to himself.

      "Hey guys," you mustered a smile, waving to the camera.

Unbeknownst to your viewers, you had spent the past few hours off camera panicking, on the verge of tears, calling Aaliyah frantically so she could help calm you down. That text from that mysterious unknown number had been from your ex's number. The same ex who made you fall into dependency patterns that you worked so hard to get out of, the one who made you feel like you had to work for his love. Like it wasn't something you deserved, just like anyone else.

You had worked so hard to finally wring out all the effects of him, all the bad habits you had fallen into because of him. That was part of the reason why you worked so hard. Not because you were actively avoiding him specifically, but because you were actively bettering yourself. You weren't looking for a relationship. But you knew that if you were in one now, the same things would never happen to you.

When you got that text, it triggered a flood of memories. Feelings you had to work to suppress and actually get over for months so you wouldn't fall back into the same desperate, needy patterns when it came to your relationships with people. All over a simple text from someone you hadn't heard from in almost a year. It hurt you how easy it was to get you to crack, even if you didn't spill out all the way. But on top of the added stress because of school, you were damn close.

You would do the show tonight, anyway. It helped you to escape, although Moonrose was a part of you, it didn't one hundred translate into real life. So in a way, this helped you escape real life. Just for a while. Just like Steve.

You grinned when you saw concerned comments from your watchers:

johnGuy182

Are you okay, moonrose? You seem a little sad.

zenongirl

Girl r u ok? i missed seeing your face!!!

     "Guys, I'm okay," you grinned. And you actually felt better seeing comments from your supporters. It reminded you to cheer up - they were looking for a good show, not a sob story. You leaned back, revealing your stomach in the sheer, sparkly fringed bra you chose to wear (another piece you had designed by yourself). "It's been a looong day."

Steve watched silently, observing your behavior. He didn't notice drastic changes, but you did appear less chipper. Then again, he brushed it off. He didn't expect you to be smiley all the time, you were human too, and this was your work.

"But I'm okay," you reassured, giving that signature grin, genuine and charming and alluring. You were trying to gently distract yourself, get into your act. "I hope you're all just as lovely as I am. I have a special game for you today."

You directed your viewers to your spinning wheel, which you had been working on crafting that week for a game. You grinned as you spinned it. Each act on the wheel cost a certain amount of tokens, and by the end of the game you would garner a bunch of funds. The show went by relatively quickly as you played the game, eventually ending up completely naked.

As ordered by the spinning wheel, you were to use a vibrator. You held it against your clit at the highest setting as you watched the numbers of viewers and the tokens jump up, Steve watching as he stroked himself leisurely. Your legs shook as you restrained yourself from your orgasm so as to increase the length of your showtime, garner more coins to encourage you to come.

     "Mm," you moaned, massaging the vibrator against your clit, getting wetter and slicker by the minute, sliding the toy between your folds. You laughed, breathless. "Fuck, this thing is so powerful. Someone make me come, please make me come. Just a few more tokens for me to come for you."

Steve was hesitant, but he decided to go ahead and give you the amount of tokens you needed. And when you heard the chime of the tokens being added to your account, and saw the name it was attached to, it was like a blast of euphoria. When your legs started to shake, when you started to moan and your stomach started to rise up and down, it was genuine. It was like you were back in a private room with him, although you weren't.

Your orgasm was blood-curdling in the best way, and you felt like you were releasing part of the stress of the past day, the past week. It didn't get any realer than this, once again you felt like he was really there to satisfy you.

      "Oh!" you exclaimed, your mouth dropping open and your blood flowing, moaning. "Yes, Steve, I'm coming for you. Thank you for making me come, Steve!"

Steve had been stroking himself along with you as he watched, and only let himself come now that you had come, his cheeks heating up as he heard you moan his name, something he hadn't been expected. Something about you saying his name like that where everyone could hear, even though he enjoyed the intimacy of private rooms, felt victorious. It felt lewd, salacious, but he couldn't help but enjoy that aspect of it. He moaned through grit teeth while he came, stroking himself to completion.

You came down, thanking everyone for attending and ending the show. But it wasn't long after that you had requested Steve for a private chat. He accepted, because he had gotten used to you doing this a little more frequently. It didn't scare him any more, he just thought of it as making conversation, taking advantage of this connection you had with each other. So when you requested, who was he to say no.

When the chat log opened, you put on your best happy face for Steve, trying to conceal how fatigued this week, today in particular, had made you. But your tired, bleak voice gave it all away, buried deep beneath your smile,

    "Hey, Steve."

Steve was surprised at the sound of your voice. Again, while he understood that you wouldn't be a happy go lucky fairy like personality all the time, he wasn't expecting this. You were smiling, but the weariness in your eyes was hard to miss. And your voice, which usually told light hearted tales, sounded worn down as if from tragedy. He was concerned, his eyebrows furrowed gently,

     "Hi. How are you?"

     "I'm good!" you exclaimed, trying your hardest to really sound "good."

But you were just tired. Tired and sad, and scared - scared of what the future had to hold. You were already dealing with school stress, and the text from your ex-boyfriend was like a bad omen, an anxiety-provoking assurance that things actually would not get better and they would in fact get progressively worse. You weren't even sure why you thought you should be talking to Steve if you were tired and just wanted to sleep off the weight of the week. It would be a weekend tomorrow, and one of your very rare days off.

Maybe you figured that you wanted to talk to him despite your fatigue, because conversation with Steve was a nice distraction. You had let yourself forget that this was still your job, and that you were too tired for anything sexual — you knew he liked talking to you, but you hadn't put into consideration the fact that he might request a sexual act from you. You would be burnt out if he did. The fact that you didn't think about that should've been telling, but your brain was too scattered to think straight.

Anyway, Steve called your bluff, and laughed quietly, his voice inquiring and pressing,

      "How are you really?"

That was all it took to get a deep sigh to come from out of you, all it took to allow yourself to show your true feelings, at least the surface of them, what you felt comfortable showing a customer. You felt a sense of relief and gratefulness for Steve, like he was letting you breathe. And if anything, he especially wasn't enlisted to listen to your problems. But he wanted to, and for that you felt foolishly grateful.

    Steve noted the deep sigh that came from out of you, and he frowned slightly. He could tell you had been holding this in for a while, and some part of him felt remorse for the fact that even though you clearly weren't in the right mindset, you went on and did your show anyway. He felt some guilt for being a part of the reason why you did your show.

    You answered, allowing your voice to be as honest as possible.

    "Honestly?" you chuckled a little, albeit bitterly. "I don't know if you really want to hear me rant to you."

Steve shook his head.

    "Don't be silly," he grinned. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

You felt a warm rush in your chest from the reassurance, and the corner of your lip quirked up in a small smile, before you decided to dive in. You'd spare the emotional details, spare your private life. But it would be nice to talk to someone, just about the general things, right?

    "Well, it's been a pretty stressful week, honestly. I mean, school's been the main source of my stress. My professor's such an asshole, he's basically been telling me my entire senior project, which I need to complete to graduate, needs to be redone? And I can't even fathom how I would have enough time to do that with like, two and a half months left of my senior year. I mean, he said I can keep most details, but I'd have to rework it, whatever that means."

    You kept your emotions at bay, sighing in annoyance just at the story you told, because it really was irritating you. But then you felt deeper things, even more went into why you really were upset.

    Steve nodded, just listening. He was prepared to offer advice, but in your situation, he thought that maybe just letting you rant would be best.

    "That's gotta be annoying," he shook his head understandingly. "Whatever your project is, I'm sure it's wonderful. He shouldn't be forcing you to rework it or make any last minute changes."

    "I know!" you nearly jumped up, feeling amped up now. "And it's just so fucking annoying because I work so hard and I'm really passionate about this project and it just feels like..."

    It felt like you were about to overflow, like a pot of water that had been left on for too long. You were ranting almost uncontrollably now, maybe because of the fact that it was more than this that was tugging at you. Because you'd been carrying the weight of your life on your shoulders all the time, like Atlas carrying the sky, and it felt like that weight was finally starting to mean something.

    Steve could see you were unraveling and he let you, he let you take the time you needed to feel everything you had been holding. If your connection was strong, it was at its strongest here. Sure, you and Steve chatted about a little bit of everything, even had deeper conversations here and there as the weeks went by. But you had yet to genuinely complain to him, because every time you spoke with him, you were happy go lucky Moonrose, with nothing to complain about to begin with. But now, you needed a release by any means, and you were just glad Steve was there for you, even if he wasn't really there. How unlike you to unfold in front of strangers.

   Your breath stuttered as you took in a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down, only further driving yourself into your rambling. You felt yourself tear up, your voice becoming watery as you continued,

    "It just feels like all my work is turning to shit, and it's so fucking frustrating because I work so hard all the time, I do so much and I manage so much all the time."

     The "hard work" you were talking about wasn't just school and work-related, it pertained to your journey, and how hard you had worked to be a better person. To support yourself. The emotions pent up inside of you, they were more than just being upset over a school project. The idea of someone toxic trying to re-enter your life, someone who had forced you to rework the entirety of your life, made you feel like you were on the verge of crashing. You knew better, but you didn't want to return to those dark days, where the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was your relationship seemed so far away. It was why you were so weary of relationships today. It was crazy how one person could change your life so easily.

     Now you were crying, before you even noticed that you were crying. Tears just seemed to leak out of your eyes, sloshing wet and sudden against your cheeks and underneath your lashes. You wiped them away quickly with the back of your hand, frazzled at the fact that you were crying in front of a customer right now. Steve said he'd listen to you, he didn't say he'd watch you cry and be your therapist. You instantly regretted it, although you couldn't stop yourself, tears threatening to emerge again. If you were cracked before, you were spilling now.

    Steve was surprised too, at the fact that you were crying. You appeared so put together to him, it was almost something he didn't expect from you. He was in shock at first, so much so that professionalism was not on his mind - it was an afterthought. Right now, instead of wondering if this was appropriate, he was occupied with you.

    "I'm sorry," you murmured, but you still hadn't stopped, tears falling out as you blinked. Composure was nothing now, you were sobbing, your shoulders slumped and your head hung as you sniffled. Still you enforced control, wiping away every tear that fell with the back of your hand. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to cry to you over this, that's so-"

Steve cut you off, shaking his head slowly,

    "It's okay to cry, doll. We all have those days. I know better than anyone that we all have those days."

    You mustered a smile, feeling cared for, feeling accounted for by someone who wasn't even obligated to have to see you like this. Still you shook your head, sniffling,

    "I know. But it's-it's stupid, I shouldn't be crying in front of you."

    "I'm not judging you," Steve said, so nonchalantly and firmly, so genuine that it almost scared you.

You blinked. He should've cared, and he should've judged you. To cry in front of Steve, a customer, was to imply he had some duty to comfort you when he probably just wanted a show. You knew that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but even you had rules when it came to what your customers got to see, and to you, that meant they didn't have to deal with your blues.

     "Really?"

     "Really," he reassured you with a nod.

    Was Steve scared that by giving you this reassurance, this entire situation could become deeper than either of you could handle? Yes. But did he let himself shut down because of those pervasive thoughts that he might get himself into trouble? No. He didn't see you as a liability right now. Right now, even though the situation was certainly questionable (and this was something he had no doubt about. When emotions get into the mix, things could get tricky- he knew this), he saw you as someone who desperately needed someone to talk to. Maybe it wasn't smart of you to make him that someone, but regardless, he was, and who was Steve Rogers not to listen to a person in need?

    You blinked away the last of your tears and swallowed hard. You were making this choice consciously, to tell Steve what had really gotten you to your breaking point. And maybe telling him meant you had trust in him, maybe too much trust for someone who, while great, was still a customer. But you felt like there was nothing you could lose from telling him. Maybe you'd even feel better after the fact.

    You looked down, picking at the body glitter on your arm that you had applied before the show. Your voice was considerably quieter now perhaps because you were looking back on the moment with a clear mind for the first time since it happened. You hadn't been thinking straight ever since you received the text just hours ago. Now your brain was a little quieter with the help of your tears and Steve's reassurance.

       "I think that the stress of this school project is making me resent how hard I work for everything, just to be met with this kind of result, you know? And it's even worse when... things seem to be going backwards. You know, like when you make so much progress, moving on from things that don't serve you, and you've finally done it and you get to flourish in it and then, it just gets taken away from you. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but that's just how this feels."

     Steve nodded, his jaw ticking as he let your words settle in. Somehow, although your situation was so different from his, he felt like your words perfectly described how he felt with the world sometimes. It was even part of the reason he'd held off on talking to you like this, held off on getting too involved. He too had made so much progress in this world, which took so much getting adjusted to in a way that absolutely nobody else could relate to.

    It was a world that he didn't even know, a world that he had never been properly introduced to. He'd had to fend for himself. He did his healing on his own, just like you had. And yet sometimes it felt like he had no control, like the universe was going the opposite way of all his plans. Then he felt stupid for even having plans to begin with, because in life, making plans was like comedy for the gods.

    There was a weird feeling in his chest and stomach, like he'd been stabbed with a gutting realization, and the knife was just turning inside of him, churning his insides. He began to feel a sense of unease, because this deep conversation was beginning to feel incredibly personal. Even though you were talking about your own situation, he couldn't help but think about how much he resonated, and the fact that he felt like he could relate to you on such a deep level scared him. This was more than the conversations you'd had before, more than the simple similarities you and Steve shared. This felt like a conversation that might be too telling for his good and your own.

     He swallowed his words as he listened to you continue. You chose your words carefully, but you had shed yourself of your inhibitions when it came to being truthful.

     "Earlier... I heard from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. And it kind of pushed me over the edge," out of your mouth stumbled a laugh. You were calmer now, and looked up at the camera, Steve swallowing hard when you did so. It was all so real, just like it was when you touched yourself and moaned Steve's name. "I think it just made me feel all those things I just explained. Because I feel like I worked so hard to rid myself of this person and them trying to come back just feels like all the things I worked so hard on are going to unravel. Even though I know they aren't, it feels like a setback. And that was like, the icing on the cake to this already terrible day, I guess."

      You let out a breathy laugh and smiled gently, shaking your head slowly.

     "I normally wouldn't be telling this to a customer. But here we are. Again, I'm sorry... I feel like I shouldn't have said anything? Should I... have said anything?"

In the brief silence that followed your question,  both you and Steve were thinking the same thing - were you going to regret this? Intimacy both physically and emotionally was good when you capped it at what you both knew to be appropriate. When it came to the physical aspects, you each let your fantasies unwind.

    And on the emotional aspect, though you had both grown closer and more open, some things just didn't get touched upon. But now you had just cried over the screen, and spoke from the depths of your heart. It was scary to open up in such an uncertain situation where your own privacy was an aspect that got involved. There was no doubt that it was too much. It was just a question of whether the result would be negative.

     Steve sighed deeply, a crease forming in his forehead as he furrowed his brows together, folding his arms over his chest.

     "I don't know..." he trailed off, took a breath, a leap, his body practically lurching forward. "But... it can't be a bad thing that you feel comfortable talking to me about this, can it?"

      And there it was, that glint of hope he was trying his hardest to conceal. That feeling he got when he got off that call with you, the one where you both started giving into those unspoken thoughts. That this couldn't be so bad, that you could enjoy each other's company without worrying.  

     You smiled gently,

    "I guess. It does feel weird though, it's not something I normally do. It feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

    You could hear Steve breathing in deeply, and for a moment, you imagined what he might look like, envisioning the outline of a troubled face, eyebrows knit together. You snapped back to reality and made a face, confused by your abrupt thoughts. You had long gotten over the very brief desire to see Steve's face- why was it coming back again?

    "I'll be honest, same here," Steve agreed with your sentiments.

    "Do you always feel like you have to restrain what you say when you talk to people? Or is it just with me?" you added that last part in a quiet voice, biting your lip.

Steve chuckled briefly,

      "Are you asking me if I have trust issues? Because I'd tell you, but I'd have to trust you to do that."

You shook your head and laughed at Steve's stupid joke, and shrugged.

     "I could say the same thing, I think. This person I heard from earlier is... I developed those trust issues because of them. Or, my already existent trust issues became worse. But what's funny about it is that this person was once someone that I loved," even as the words were coming out you questioned why you were letting them, why you were allowing yourself to be so truthful in a situation like this at a time when you were so vulnerable.

      Steve didn't reply, again feeling that sick feeling in his stomach that stemmed from his fear. The fear that this conversation were too serious, fear surrounding the fact that he was able to relate so much to such a personal situation of yours.

    You spoke again, daring to ask the question that felt like a final blow to Steve's stomach,

    "Have you ever been in love, Steve?"

Now Steve knew he was in uncharted territory. Not because he feared you might try to exploit him, but because he was so struck by the fact that he had allowed himself to feel so safe with you and get so close to you. He was surprised at himself for letting you feel safe enough to have these kinds of conversations with him. It all felt like a mistake now. He wanted a way out, any way out. He knew if he even attempted to answer that question, he would be making a big mistake. He had shared some of his most intimate moments with you, but always keeping in mind a very sharp line he didn't want to be crossed.

And in his mind, he thought of the one love he'd had, the one love that hadn't been fulfilled because of the situation he had been thrown into, one he had never signed up for. He thought of how the things he cared most for in life had been discarded, how, like you, he felt like it had gone to shit. How sometimes, though he tried his best to be grateful and had taken that journey of self-healing just like you, it all felt like some sick joke.

Could he even call it love? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to answer at all, because he wouldn't be talking to you again. There would be no chance for this dilemma to resurface, not with you, not on this site. He made the decision with haste and a heavy heart - he was done here.

      The discomfort was well evident in his voice, answering loud and clear, though his voice was morose and a bit closed off. You sensed the shift immediately.

     "I... I can't talk about that right now. Listen, I have to go."

    You felt a pang in your chest at the sudden switch in his demeanor, straightening up and trying not to frown. All this time you had been letting the words spill out, telling yourself not to worry so much, reassuring yourself it was okay to make your feelings known. Now it felt like you should've never said anything at all. You started to stammer.

      "Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just... I feel like I got a little overwhelmed." You laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Steve felt his throat ran dry as he blinked, feeling emotions come up to surface that he wasn't quite familiar with. Maybe he was grieving in advance, regretting the decision he was making to no longer speak with you, regretting the fact that he was letting fear get in the way of what he wanted so badly to be a good thing.

    "No, I'm sorry. I feel like I let things go too far," Steve apologized, but the apology felt more like an insult.

Was he implying that whatever this was, you couldn't handle it, and that it was his fault for somehow leading you on? You had both made the connection with each other, it was an equal effort. And why was he acting like the two of you communicating at all was somehow below him, somehow a risk? If anything, you were the one risking it just by talking to him the way you did. You were opening up to him. 

     You almost felt betrayed - you had convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to listen to your problems and you told yourself it wasn't his responsibility to listen. And then he listened anyway, told you that he wanted to hear it, and you cried to him. You felt like you had made so many unusual accommodations just for him to scare off like this. He was just another person you had expressed your feelings to, only to regret it in the end.

    "Too far?" you questioned, furrowing your brows.

Steve swallowed. In your voice he could hear a hint of frustration, but even worse- hurt. It pained him more than he cared for you to know.

    "I don't think we should talk anymore," he said instead.

    "What?" you were taken by surprise. "Steve, I'm... I'm not understanding. I... I don't usually open up to people like this, I mean, I thought maybe it was fine here, because I feel like I know you. But you're still a stranger. I understand you're a customer but I thought we were talking, I thought we broke through that wall-"

    "We did. And we shouldn't have," Steve said, his voice so calm and firm that it was almost cold.

    By now you were just staring into the computer camera, as if you were looking at him and waiting for him to come to his senses. But as you did that, you slowly came to your own. Because you weren't looking at him. You were looking at a black screen with his voice behind it. You realized you hadn't known Steve, not enough to talk about these things. And just like him, you too were full of regret. You kept all those walls up for the sake of customer relations, only to put them down and be met with this disastrous result.

    Steve almost couldn't bare to look at your face anymore. You were confused, hurt. He could tell you regretted the fact that you had opened up. He was hurt too, but he wouldn't show it, or let it overcome him to the point where your methods of communication with each other became something neither of you could control. Still, yes, he was hurt.

    But he had been through plenty of hardships in life. What was one more, even if it shouldn't have come to this point anyway?

    "I'm sorry, Moonrose. We can't. Goodbye."

Chat over.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

can i request an imagine where calum & the reader are dating and she gets in a car accident & totals her car? and calum and the boys are in another car and see traffic is slowed bc of the accident and cal recognizes her car and asks them to pull over as she’s freaking out because the ambulance is trying to help her calm down but she’s freaking out and can’t call cal because she can’t find her phone that’s in the car but she ends up fine w a few bruises and scratches & it’s all fluff at the end?

Gonna be late - C. Hood

TRIGGER WARNING: Description of car accident and physical injuries, and anxiety.

Sorry this took so long, lovie! Been super busy lately! Hope you like it!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Car accidents are always shown as something so quick in movies.

A split second collision, the car jolts and is thrown around. The person inside is struck with whiplash and tossed about in a quick movement and often the aftermath is quite horrible.

Y/N discovered that movies are total bull Shit.

She was on her way to meet her friends, and her boyfriend, traveling down the Main Street of the town with music playing in the background as she thrummed her fingers along the steering wheel.

Calum always felt shy when she played his music, but she adored the sound of his voice. Every time his dulcet tone travels through the speakers a smile bursts onto her face.

She was listening to Babylon when it happened.

Anything that she had seen in the media felt like the biggest lie in that moment.

What was really a few minute action felt like a lifetime.

Her mind was focused on the road ahead of her, but the subconscious part of her mind was focused on the brown eyed man she gave her heart to.

They had been together for nearly 2 and a half years and at the point of considering living together.

Now, she had been on her way from work to meet with Calum, the guys and their girls for a much needed night out.

Between study and work she had barely had a time to relax, so Calum got onto Crystal who Y/N knew not to argue with about plans and organized for her to meet all of them at her favourite diner for dinner and drinks afterwards.

The sky was barely starting to go dark when the Subaru connected with the passenger side of the car.

She was doing 60 and her car was pushed sideways into the lane next to her.

The impact tore a grunt from her throat and the drivers side connected with a car parked on the side of the road.

Time seemed to slow as her head connected with the steering wheel and the drivers side door squashed in on her arm.

For a minute she saw black.

She came to with a pounding in her head that resembled a bad hangover, but the blood dripping in her eye brought her to her senses.

Despite the agony in both her arm and her head, she could only think of one thing: She needed to tell Calum she would be late. He would worry about her.

She just needed to get her arm out so she could get her bag that was on the passenger side. A quick text to Calum was all she needed

She just couldn’t reach.

<><><><><>

Calum couldn’t wait to see her. They basically lived together and saw each other every day, but last night he spent it at his own house.

She had an early class followed by a shift at work so he said goodnight to her at 7pm the previous night and left knowing he would see her at the bar the following day.

They were well past the honeymoon stage. Their love was past romantic, past companionate. They were bordering on full consummate love and he couldn’t find a moment where he didn’t have her at least in the back of his mind.

He truly loved her, and they both knew they shared the sentiment.

“All I’m saying is, you don’t know if zebras are black with white stripes, or white with black stripes.”

“What does it matter, Ash?” KayKay laughed from the front seat.

He decided to carpool with Ashton and Kaitlin, as he knew he was going home with Y/N that night.

Their conversations had ranged anywhere from aliens to the colour green and now to zebras and their stripes.

Cal couldn’t deny that he tuned out when KayKay and Ash were disputing the intensity of a specific shade of green.

The ride was energetic and gave off a certain ambience that Calum found himself basking in.

Lately, the only time he ever felt relaxed was with Y/N, but he was enjoying the time spent with his friends and the anticipation of seeing the woman he loved.

Hell, he was just excited to be able to sleep next to her that night. He always slept better with her beside him.

“Shit.” Calum felt the car slow, KayKay pushing her foot into the break with the pace of the car in front. “Calum is that-“

“It looks like it,” Ashton cut her off, whispering in a hushed voice for fear of setting off the Maori mans fight or flight.

They both knew that it would definitely be fight.

When it came to Y/N he would always fight for her.

His brown eyes captured the sight of her white Jeep. He knew immediately it was hers.

“Pull over,” he demands even though the car is almost at a complete stop.

His belt is off and his door is flung open. His ears are deaf to Ashton’s calls.

He clears a car and an ambulance comes into view. There are three paramedics crowded around the car, and two others tending to another car.

He didn’t know what had happened but he needed to know if his girl was okay.

He could hear her cries coming from the vehicle.

“I need to call my boyfriend,” she was breathing heavily. Her voice was cracking and sounded strained.

His heart broke at the sound. He could hear the pain she was in, yet her only thought was of him.

In any other circumstance he would be flattered, but all he could focus on was the paramedic telling her to stay calm because she has a head wound.

“No, please. You need to call him. You need to tell him I’m going to be late.” He got closer to the car, and he could see firefighters working at the door next to her.

Paramedics were on the passenger side of the car that had been dented, but at this moment he could care less about the car.

“Please, I just need to talk to him,” she was pleading.

“Ma’am you need to relax. We will call your boyfriend as soon as we can get you out and looked over.”

“But he’s waiting for me,” she was crying. From the pain or her stress, he didn’t know.

His feet felt more sluggish as he got closer to her, but he couldn’t stop his voice.

“Y/N?” He crouched down near where the paramedics were and his heart ached at the sight.

She was virtually untouched save for the head wound and her arm that had disappeared into the car door.

There were tears on her face and her skin was blotchy from the sobs underneath the blood.

Still, she lit up when she saw him.

“Calum! Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she moved slightly, cringing at the pain in her arm. “Crystals gonna kill me. I ruined our night.”

Calum couldn’t help but laugh, “she won’t care, baby. It’s fine, I’m right here with you.”

“I’m guessing this is the boyfriend?” The paramedic quipped. He was tall but he managed to fit into the small space to hold a gauze against her forehead. “No more tears now?”

The firefighters made quick work of the door. It was crumpled around her arm and they needed to stabilize it as they moved her.

She was into the ambulance for an assessment not long after and they began the ride to the hospital.

Calum made sure to send a quick message to Ashton informing him of the situation, but he turned his phone off after.

He needed to focus on Y/N.

A few hours later and she woke up in a white hospital room, her arm in a cast and elevated and a thick wrap around her head.

Calum was asleep on a chair beside her. He was sleeping so peacefully.

Naturally, she throw a sock at him.

“Hey! Melon!”

He snorted awake, blinking deliriously at the girl perched on the bed.

Despite the pain she was in previously, she beamed at him. Her smile could always settle his worries.

“I’ll let that one slide but stop calling me that!” He laughed at her, standing up and stretching.

She used the one hand that wasn’t in the sling to make grabby hands at him, prompting him to laugh once again and settle on the bed next to her.

“So, dr. Hood. What’s the damage?” She smiled, nuzzling into him.

“The damage is that you have a shattered forearm and a mild concussion. Also, you’re never driving yourself anywhere again. You’re coming with me,” he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to his head. “I can’t tell you how scared I was when I saw your car on the side.”

“As scared as I was being yknow, the one in the car?” She winked, pulling him closer so she could hug him more.

“I love you, you know that right?” He kissed her forehead once again. It was his favourite place to kiss her. She believed it was the most intimate and sweet place to kiss somebody, and he had done so since they started their relationship.

“I love you too, Melon,” she smirked once again.

He was thanking anybody who was there to listen that she was okay. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if she wasn’t.

“So, I think this is a good time to revisit our conversation about living arrangements,” he said as he toyed with her hands, resting her smaller fingers against his own. “Because, if we lived together, I could fulfill my dream of being your personal chauffeur.”

“Calum, your dream was to make it big with your friends.”

“And I did that. Now this is my new dream.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he smiled.

She rolled her eyes, kissing him softly on the lips. “You want to do this? Live together?”

“I really do, baby,” he was staring so intently into her eyes that it forced a redness to rise.

“Then lets do it, Cal. Let’s move in together.”

A smile broke out onto his face, wider than it was before and he leaned over her to kiss her deeply.

“How about I get you a cute little nurse outfit and you can take care of me?” She winked as she pulled away from his lips, allowing him to roll his eyes deeply.

Tag list:

@mantlereid @starshonerose @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3

If you’d like to be apart of the tag list, send me a message or an ask!!

[pradaxstyles]

Silhouette // hs

In which Harry and Y/N relive their favorite memories before they part. 

Word count: 3.7k

Song inspo: Silhouette by Aquilo 

okay lovies. buckle up, this one is a bit rough. this is how it works bc it may seem a bit confusing. you have to listen to the song, otherwise it won’t make sense. listen before, during, whichever. there are lyrics throughout which are bold and italicized, these indicate memories. the memory portion is italicized. it is also stated when the memory ends. also!! please pay attention to the small details bc they come back in the end! i hope that helps. if anyone has any questions my inbox is open!!! 

i apologize for any typos.

as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

enjoy!!!!! xoxoxo

----

The bustling city of New York seemed silent, almost abandoned. It was 2 am and Harry was wandering the bright streets. He pressed his back against the cool stone of a building and closed his eyes. The recurring thoughts came into his mind like waves. 

He had gotten into a fight with his long term girlfriend, Y/N. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about. It was them against the world, at least that’s what he thought. 

She was a wild soul, always needing to do something. For a while, Harry was that something. He provided the adventure and love she desired. Wherever he went, Harry took her with him, it was their thing. Y/N traveled the world before meeting Harry in Paris. Things escalated quickly and she moved in with him. She would talk about the things she saw and experienced while in Europe. Although she felt like she was on top of the world with Harry, she had an itch to go back. She needed to go back. 

Y/N tried explaining to Harry that he didn’t understand and that he never would. He was thrown off by that statement. He spent the last two and a half years with her. He had traveled before meeting her, too. How could she say something like that? It was beyond him. 

So here he is, her words echoing in his mind. He pulled himself off the wall and began walking to a nearby club. He needed the endless thoughts of Y/N gone from his mind for the night, he couldn’t handle it. 

He pushed the heavy doors open and immediately went to the bar. 

“Can I get a whiskey neat?” He yelled over the blasting music. The bartender nodded and placed a glass on the table. Harry brought it to his lips and let the golden liquid burn his throat. 

He sighed and swiveled his chair so he was facing the large group of people sitting at small booths and on the dance floor. People were chatting away, laughing, dancing and having fun. Harry was damned if he wasn’t going to let loose tonight. He slammed the drink on the counter and moved toward the crowd. 

Bright neon lights illuminated the room in different hues. Blues and purples lit up his face as he wandered through the pack of bodies. He was looking for someone to dance with, someone he could get lost in. 

As he continued to make his way to the middle of the group, someone turned around and he was met with the one person he didn’t want to see, Y/N, his Y/N. 

He stood there wide eyed, not knowing how to react. Y/N’s face fell at the sight of Harry and a wave of guilt washed over her. 

In an instant, everything came back to him. 

“Let’s go out in flames so everyone knows who we are”

Harry and Y/N had the love others only dreamed of having. They were the perfect fit, the match made in heaven. Harry remembers the moment he first laid eyes on Y/N.

He was in Paris for some music business with Mitch. On their last night, Harry suggested that they have dinner by the Eiffel Tower, so they did. They packed a small picnic and found a spot on the lawn to enjoy the time they had left in the beautiful city. 

Harry was reaching for his drink when he glanced up and noticed a girl already looking at him. He choked on his sandwich and Mitch giggled. 

“You good, H?” He followed Harry's gaze and realized not what but who he was looking at. “Go get her number. Don't miss your chance, Harry.” 

Mitch was right. Harry wasn't sure if he was ever going to see her again, they met in Paris of all places. He got up from his position on the blanket and walked toward the girl. When she realized he was walking towards her, she quickly looked away and began talking to her friend. 

Harry was nervous to say the least. He swore he had never seen someone so beautiful. 

He cleared his throat, “H-hey. My name’s Harry.” She glanced up and smiled, “I’m Y/N.” 

His heart fluttered, she was perfect. 

“So uh, it’s my last day here and I was wondering if I could get your number?” 

Mitch snorted at his friend's nervousness, Harry was usually the calm and collected one. 

Y/N’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed red. “Y-yeah of course. Here, let me-” She pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and scribbled her number down. Handing it to Harry she smiled and said, “Call me.”

Harry was beaming, “I will.”

He turned around quickly and thanked God he got her number. Mitch looked at Harry with the goofiest smile on his face knowing he got the girls number.

“What’s her name?” Mitch asked him. “Y/N. She’s literally perfect.” Harry couldn’t wipe the smile from his face, he felt like he was on cloud nine. “I’m glad you went for it, H. You need someone, bro. I hope she’s the one.” Mitch was being genuine. He felt like his best friend needed someone in his life to break him from his shell, someone he could get lost in. 

Harry sat down and finished his sandwich. “We should get going. We still have to pack and our flight is early tomorrow.” Mitch nodded in agreement and put their things back into the picnic basket. 

The sun had set by now, leaving the city beautifully lit. The Eiffel Tower was shining and sparkling in the warm summer air. There was something about being in different parts of the world that made Harry feel at ease. “I don’t want to leave.” 

Mitch glanced over at Harry and noticed the look of calmness that his features held. “I don’t want to leave either, it’s so peaceful being away and not having to worry about anything.” Harry quietly nodded. He tried to permanently etch the view into his mind, he didn’t want to forget a single thing. 

They began the walk back to the hotel and a feeling of sadness rushed over him. “Mitch, we have to come back soon, okay? I absolutely love it here.” “We will H, don’t worry.” 

He looked back and took one last look at the Eiffel Tower. His eyes wandered over to where Y/N was and he smiled. She was still sitting on the grass laughing with her friend, sipping wine. It was like she felt his gaze. She glanced over her shoulder and met his stare. She shot him a small smile and waved. He waved back and swore he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

They got back to the hotel and packed their belongings.

Mitch walked into Harry’s room and mumbled tiredly, “I’m going to sleep. Please don’t be late getting up, we have an early flight.” With that, he walked out of the room and left Harry to his thoughts. 

He glanced at his phone and the time read 12:45 am. He sighed and reached into his pocket for Y/N’s number. He typed it into his phone and debated texting her. 

Fuck it. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s Harry.” His thumb hovered over the send button until he decided that he had nothing to lose. He was going back to LA and was probably never going to see her again. 

While lost in his thoughts, the phone buzzed in his hand. He immediately brought it to his face and saw her name pop up on the screen. 

They talked for hours, the early flight slipped Harry’s mind completely. They talked about everything under the sun. She felt the same spark Harry did. She questioned if they would ever be anything. But what if they don’t work out? She had no clue where he was from. 

His response ignited a fire she had never felt before, for anyone. 

“Let’s just try and see what happens. If it doesn’t work, let’s go out in flames so everyone knows who we are.” 

--end of memory-- 

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Y/N questioned. In all the time they’ve spent together, Harry had never touched a drop of alcohol. He stood there staring at her. The girl he fell in love with was no longer there. 

“I came to forget about you tonight, Y/N. Your voice is all I can hear in my head and I need it to stop.” He said coldly. She had a blank look on her face, she was at a loss for words.

“You came to forget about me? After we had a small fight? So that’s it, we’re done?” Y/N reached for his arm but he took a step back. 

“You don’t get to touch me, not anymore.” He tried to control his tone but he couldn’t, all the emotions he was feeling poured out. “I don’t know if we’re done, I just need a breather right now.” 

Y/N kept her gaze on Harry trying to read his expression. The one person she used to see right through has put up so many walls, she doesn’t even recognize him anymore. 

“’Cause these city walls never knew that we’d make it this far”

Harry and Y/N were on their usual late night dates in the heart of New York. They would park the car somewhere they’d forget and explore the city, even though they did that almost everyday. Y/N claimed there was something new to be found, something they hadn’t seen yet, so they went. They went and explored every nook and cranny the city had to offer. 

“Harry! Look how cute this coffee shop is! Or there’s a book store down the street!” 

They were on 5th Avenue, the most popular street in the city. The sun was just starting to set as warm colors of orange and yellow painted the sky. The intricate windows of the tall buildings around them reflected the sun almost perfectly.

"Do you wanna grab dinner at Claudette? You know it’s your favorite French restaurant, it’ll be like when we first met in front of the Eiffel Tower.” Y/N glanced up lovingly at Harry, “I would love to. Do you remember how nervous you were when you first came over? It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Harry’s cheeks burned a bright shade of pink and he mumbled, “It wasn’t cute, Y/N. I was so nervous and I never get nervous. That’s how you know I wanted things to work, and thank goodness they did.” 

Harry laced his fingers with Y/N’s and led her through the glass doors of the restaurant. “Order whatever you want, my love. My treat.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “H, let me pay for at least some of it.” He narrowed his eyes at her and spoke, “It’s my treat, angel. Plus you can repay me at home.” He threw a wink her way and they ordered their meals. 

A glass too many of some expensive champagne later and the two lovers were roaming the lit streets. The big clock posted at the corner read 3:27 am. Harry had a meeting and Y/N had an early shift but neither of them cared. They lived for the nights like these. Late night adventures in their favorite city, at least one of their favorites. Nothing could top Paris in Harry’s eyes. 

People had their doubts when these two first got together. Everyone would say they were moving too fast, you can’t love someone you met 8 months ago. They said there was no way they were going to last. 

Harry felt like he had known Y/N his entire life. It was almost like she was his other half, he felt complete with her by his side. Everyone’s opinions mattered nothing to him. The only thing that mattered was the girl with the brightest smile and the kindest eyes, his Y/N. 

They stumbled upon a small band playing a random tune. Why they were playing at this time of night? The answer was unknown, but they didn’t care. Harry grabbed Y/N’s hand and began spinning her around. Her giggles filled the summer air and Harry smiled.

“May I have this dance, madame?” She looked at him with those sparkly eyes he absolutely adored. “Of course you may.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and his went to the small of her back. Even though the song was more upbeat, they slow danced like they were the only ones there. 

He tugged her toward Central Park and she ran in front of him. Warm wind whipped through their hair as they raced to nowhere in particular. Y/N sat down at a park bench in front of a fountain trying to catch her breath. She waited for Harry to sit next to her before whispering, “I love you, Harry.” Y/N admired the way his tan skin shined in the moonlight. The way his eyelashes laid against his skin when he closed his eyes, or the way his nose scrunched when he laughed a little too hard. She loved everything about him. 

“I love you more. I adore you, baby.” Harry wrapped his arms around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“You know how everyone always doubted us? Even these city walls never knew that we’d make it this far.” She thought out loud. Harry craned his neck to look at her, a confused expression painted his features. “Yeah people doubted us but who cares. I mean look at us now. It’s us against the world, we’re unstoppable. The world is at our finger tips.” His fingers were combing through her hair now. 

“Us against the world, I like the sound of that. Will it always be us?” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

“I promise, angel. Us against the world.” 

--end of memory-- 

Harry and Y/N were stood in the middle of the pulsing club looking at each other. Neither of them knew what to do. Harry’s mind was screaming at him to turn around and walk away, but another part yelled to stay. Y/N knew she had to do something in order to save her relationship with the one boy she’s ever loved. She didn’t mean what she said during their argument but it slipped through her lips. 

“Harry, you have to let me explain. I didn’t mean wha-” He cut her off quickly, “You have 5 minutes to explain. Either I accept your apology or I leave. I can’t promise anything.” 

She held his hard gaze before reaching for his hand. Harry thought of pulling away, but he let her wrap her small fingers around his. The feeling of her hand in his felt foreign, almost wrong. But he ignored it and let her lead the way to a secluded booth away from the madness. They sat across from each other and Y/N hesitated to speak, unsure of her words. 

“Harry, you have to believe me when I say that I didn’t mean what I said. You know me. I blew up and said some things I didn’t mean, and I can admit that. How many people can admit it when they’re wrong? In my experience, it hasn’t been very many.” She sat quietly waiting for his answer. 

The faint sounds of music could be heard now that they both sat in silence. 

A thousand things were running through Harry’s mind. He tried to decipher and organize his feelings but he couldn’t think straight. He wasn’t sure if what she was saying was true. Part of him was always torn when it came to deciding on situations like this. 

“If you said it, there must’ve been a reason as to why. Can you think of any reason at all?” He asked her harshly. Y/N was taken aback by his tone. Harry never spoke to her like that. She bit her lip to stop the tears that were threatening to spill, desperately trying to think of something to say to bring her lover home. 

“We’ve become echoes, but echoes are fading away”

Harry and Y/N were on their annual trip to the Grand Canyon. They started this trip during their first year of dating when Harry suggested it. Of course Y/N was down for it, she was always up for an adventure. Before they knew it, they were hiking across the canyon. 

Y/N brought her disposable camera to capture every moment. Ever since they went on their late night adventure in New York, she took the camera every where they went. 

“Wait Harry,” He stopped and turned to her. He was all sweaty and his cheeks were flushed, but he still looked stunning to her. “What’s up babe? We’re almost to the top.” He was worried she wasn’t feeling well or that something was wrong. “Can you stand right there,” She said pointing to a spot with a gorgeous view of the canyon. “I wanna take a picture.” Harry couldn’t resist when Y/N shot him her brightest smile. He obliged and stood there, smiling like a goof ball just to hear his girl laugh. “Okay I got it” She announced. 

They continued up the trail and along the way they took pictures of each other, together, and of nature’s beautiful creation. 

When they reached the top of the canyon, they were speechless. Y/N had never seen anything like it. She wandered ahead of Harry and sat down to admire her surroundings. While she sat, he stayed in his spot and felt his insides get tingly. It was one of those cliche moments of ‘she thought the view was pretty but she was prettier’ moments, but it was true. 

Y/N drove Harry absolutely mad in a way that he loved. His girl had so much to offer the world and it blew his mind. He felt undeserving of her, but he knew that she was the one for him. She kept his mind at ease and his world at peace. 

He moved to sit next to her and she giggled. “Are you okay?” She glanced at him with a look of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m more than okay. Do you wanna try something?” He looked at her expectantly and she nodded. “Come here.” 

He lifted her from the spot on the rock and he led her more towards the edge so they could see the canyon in its entirety. “On the count of three, I want you to scream.” 

She looked at him weirdly, “You want me to what?”

“One” 

“Harry, I’m not screaming.”

He giggled, “Two” 

“Harry what eve-” 

“Three!” 

Harry screamed like he never had before. Y/N could not believe she was dating someone like him, someone so pure. 

His voice echoed all throughout the canyon and he was amazed. “Babe come on, that was so cool.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Fine fine, I’ll do it.” 

Her scream turned into a fit of giggles as it echoed. “Wait, let’s get a picture right here.” He grinned and pulled her into his side. Y/N handed Harry the camera and he snapped the picture. 

She moved to sit on the edge with her legs dangling off and she sighed. “I feel like I’m on top of the world when I’m with you.” 

He could have melted on the spot, he was so in love with this girl. He joined her and laid his head on her shoulder. 

She took a deep breath, “You know how echoes are made by the sound waves reflecting back?” He hummed quietly and waited for her to continue. “It’s almost like we’ve become echoes. I feel like we reflect one another and I love that. But you know echoes fade away. Do you think we’ll fade like echoes?” 

Harry sat there silently, he didn’t know what to think. “I don’t think so. We’ve got that love that others wish they had.” Y/N giggled at his reassurance. 

“I hope you’re right, bub. There’s still so many places I wanna go with you, Paris included.” She said. “Of course we’re going to go back, I need to take you on a date where we first met.” 

“I love you, Harry” 

“I love you more, angel. More than you’ll ever know.” 

--end of memory-- 

Harry was waiting for Y/N to say something, anything. He wanted to believe her but he was torn. “Y/N, I don’t know what to say.” 

She didn’t know what to say either, they were both at a loss for words. 

Y/N’s mind was riddled with the thought that Harry didn’t love her anymore, but what she didn’t know was that it was a build up of things that got them to where they are now. 

She had no clue Harry loved her so much, it hurt him to the point that he couldn’t live without her. 

“So let's dance like two shadows, burning out a glory day” (this last part is not italicized, therefore it is in present time) 

Harry sighed and took her smaller hand in his and led her back into the mosh of sweaty bodies. A random upbeat song was blasting through the speakers as the flashing lights painted the room different colors. Harry looked back at Y/N and hues of yellow and orange flashed on her cheeks, just like during their adventures in New York. The loud music had a slight echo, like their antics at the top of the Grand Canyon.

Everything they experienced had brought them to this exact moment. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and Y/N’s went to his neck. They slow danced like they were the only ones left in the world. It almost felt right, almost. 

The match made in heaven had become silhouettes, echoes if you will. All their late night adventures and the beautiful memories that were made came back to the pair as they danced together.

Y/N’s eyes welled with salty tears as she realized this was the last time she would see Harry, this was their end, they had gone out in flames. 

Harry’s grip on her waist tightened as he fought back tears. He meant every goddamn word he ever said to her. He was so in love with Y/N, but had to let her go. 

They spent their last few moments together in each other’s embrace, swaying to the music, dancing like two shadows burning out a glory day. 

[originalcontent]

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil  and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn’t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley​ for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks  in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

[cupidcore]

scream i always say i'll do these but never do apologies (o´〰`o)💞...

i was tagged by @transplant

name: christopher/cupid/whatever

nickname: chris, chrissy, bean/big bean, [mom's nickname for me], every single pet name that's ever existed

zodiac: taurus (naturally)

height: 5'9 (don't clown me -_-)

what time is it: 6:20 pm. (now 7:24 pm somehow spent like an hour on this)

favourite musician: that's too hard... the cure, mcr.... maybe..

favourite sports team: hmm don't have one! i just like watching certain sports! probably an olympic volleyball or track team :03

other blogs: welcome to my twisted ocd mind

@cupidcor-e primary n alter "hub" blog

@glitterblub agereg nostalgia blog

@cupidraws art blog

@i-93 i didn't want to list blogs i co-run except this upload blog i share with my alters. coin mostly runs it now i think.

@lovfarm farmcore, nostalgia, lgbt, homesick blog

@evilstud horror, photography, art blog (that caters more to my horror works)

@okuromi special interest, back upish blog that i might change the use for

@evilnet webcore, weirdcore, lgbt blog

@pettystud "sjw" blog lmao

@nurserycot used 2 b a weird shade of trauma n religion blog. now a personal religion, witch, n worship blog!

@g0thsim simblr that isn't attached to this account that I'll use at some point

@cupidk weird back up blog

i have a nsfw floating around that isn't attached to this account that i'll probably confrim it's me when im 20 if i still use tumblr and nsfw tumblr.

nsfw trans* lesbian tumblr isn't the same because of the obvious so idk if i'll ever use it again. i haven't used that blog in maybe 5 months.

do i get asks: yall know i be living in heads rent free (for better or worse). i do appreciate the nice and neutral ones

how many blogs do i follow: 1782 that stresses me out 🤪

any tumblr crushes: ofc :0P @/everyone who already knows @lesbian-cyber-sub-zero @lovingrot @aaliyahbreaux @iv-fischer yea i think that's mostly it.

what am i wearing: pjs

drink of choice: non alcoholic; hot water, cranberry juice, half french vanilla half regular coffee, ginger peach sparkling water (new fav), coffee, ginger tea, a good iced tea or coffee.

alcoholic; red wine is unbeatable.

dream car: red pick up.

favourite food: bussy anything in the style of a bim bim bap

dream vacation: call me cheesy but anywhere with e is my dream vacation. maybe Panama or Jamaica with him would be nice. or cottage country.

instrumentos: clarinet, orchestra percussion, vocals, currently relearning/working on piano, guitar, ukulele, and bass. i'd love to learn the drums, violin, harp and maybe try a cello one day.

i also need to figure out what's a good garage band alternative for PC so i can put together my work again. (in highschool i used the schools macs)

i dont want to play a trombone ever again but i love and respect them.

celebrity crush: idk everybody black and transgender plus horton styles.

random fact: going through everything i own (not just clothes this time) bc i need to sell shit for ocd rights and monies cause staples can't give me hours rn and as yall know im on my last very broken leg. so check my depop daily ❣️💕❤️💞

who u gonna tag: literally anyone who wants to do this just say i tagged you even if we aren't mutuals.

[stolethekey]

i close my eyes, let it surround me

COMIN’ IN HOT THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE HERE WE GO

this is for @397bartonstreet, who asked for something about amy knitting jake a scarf pre-relationship and it being his favorite thing in the world bc he's already lowkey smitten with her. what a concept honestly it took me so long to just wrap my head around how incredible that idea was.

and shoutout to the team at @b99fandomevents for hosting yet another successful event! these things are not easy to do well and y’all do it consistently. thanks for providing a platform for us writers to share our work and make some new friends. 

anyway. you can read this on ao3 here. enjoy!

-

Amy loves the fall.

It’s the perfect season, really – the crisp air is a welcome reprieve from the swampy New York summer, but it’s not the unbearable cold of December, either. It’s a season of scarves and sweaters but not snow boots, of morning walks with a warm coffee in hand but no need for mittens.

It’s also flu season.

And while Amy hasn’t gotten the flu in ten years (flu shots and home remedies, baby!), she takes a sort of strange satisfaction in watching her coworkers succumb to the illness. It’s not that she enjoys their pain – she doesn’t, no matter what Rosa mutters under her breath every year – but this perfectly benign illness is a way for her to finally take care of her colleagues without them complaining.

She likes to take care of people. And flu season is her time to shine.

The only annoying thing about flu season is that Jake somehow also never gets sick. This is a phenomenon, she thinks, that is inexplicable by the known laws of nature, much like platypus eggs or the horizon problem. It is patently unfair that he remains healthy (to use the term loosely) on a diet of sour candy and orange soda, whereas she has had to concoct a careful schedule of Vitamin C and ginger broth to stave off the flu.

In any case, Jake never gets sick. And no matter how unjust Amy believes that to be, every November sees the two of them become the only constants in the bullpen.

So, when she walks into the precinct the second week of November to see his desk empty, the uncomfortable surprise that jolts through her body is completely reasonable. It is completely reasonable for her to badger Captain Holt for her partner’s whereabouts, and upon learning that he is sick, it is completely reasonable for her to hole herself away in the evidence lockup and call said partner.

Jake picks up on the third ring, his voice sounding muted through the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Amy says, feet shuffling restlessly against the floor. “Holt said you called in sick.”

He gives a weak murmur of assent. “I think I have the flu, or something? I’m so congested and my whole body is cold and I think I have a fever? I can’t really tell.”

Amy feels her eyes narrow. “You’re never sick.”

“I know,” Jake says sourly. “Guess my good luck ran out.”

A faint, triumphant smile starts to make its way across Amy’s face. “So, what you’re saying is – I beat you.”

Jake groans. “Don’t let it go to your head. I personally think the fact that I lasted as long as I did is impressive, considering you spent hours of your time trying to prevent the flu and I just coasted and did nothing.”

Amy’s grin grows wider as he keeps going. “If anything, I think I am the true winner, because I invested less time and still got just as far. It’s about the return on investment. I got an equal return on zero investment.”

“You did not get equal return. I’m not sick. Which means I got more return.”

Jake snorts. “Details.”

“Make fun of my methods all you want,” Amy says loftily. “I get results, boy. Which is why you are currently sitting at home, miserable and cold, while I am working a double homicide.”

A high-pitched whine comes through the receiver, and Amy laughs. “Bye, Jake. I have a murderer to catch.”

She doesn’t talk to him again until later that day, when her phone lights up with a text.

From: Jake Peralta amy help i think it’s getting worse 2:34 pm

She feels a twinge of pity as she types her response.

To: Jake Peralta yes, it does that sometimes 2:35 pm

From: Jake Peralta can u give me some of ur weird home remedies pls i promise i’ll stop making fun of them 2:37 pm

To: Jake Peralta you just called them “weird” 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta :( 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta ok starting now 2:39 pm

From: Jake Peralta please I think I’m dying 2:45 pm

Amy sighs as she glances at his empty desk, mentally calculating the time it’ll take for her to drive home after her shift and gather her things.

To: Jake Peralta Fine. If you can stay alive for three more hours, I’ll be there at 5:40. 2:47 pm

From: Jake Peralta always so specific (ur the best thank u) 2:48 pm She shows up at his door at 5:40 sharp, two plastic bags in her arms. Her instinctual sarcastic comment dies on the tip of her tongue as the door opens to reveal a disheveled, very-clearly-just-asleep Jake.

“Oh,” she says, taking in his knotted hair and deathly pale skin. “I mean, hi.”

“Yeah, it’s bad,” he grumbles, his voice muted. “Come in.”

He shuffles aside, socked feet sliding against the floorboards, and Amy steps into his apartment.

She notes with some surprise that the floor is mostly bare, uncovered by dirty clothes, and a quick glance reveals no empty take-out containers on the coffee table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your place is…surprisingly clean.”

Jake coughs weakly behind her. “I tried to shove some stuff into the cupboards before you got here,” he says, shutting the door. “I know you hate mess.”

Something very unwelcome swells in Amy’s chest as she sets her bags on the counter. “Oh my God, Jake, you really didn’t have to, you’re clearly so sick –“

“Mmm, ’sfine,” he mumbles, turning toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna sleep now. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh,” Amy says again. “I mean, yeah, of course, you need it – I’ll set up here and wait for you.”

“You’re the best.”

She laughs, he gives her a weak, soft smile, and with that, he disappears into his room, leaving her to rifle through her bags in an attempt to bury the flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

-

When Jake wakes, it takes him a minute to remember that he’s not alone.

It’s a good thing that he remembers when he does, because walking mostly naked into the hallway while his colleague whom he respects very much and may or may not have a tiny crush on is rustling around in his kitchen is absolutely not something he wants to do, no matter how sick he is.

He doesn’t completely remember taking his clothes off, but he guesses somewhere in between him sliding into bed and now, his fever made him go from freezing cold to unbearably hot and that’s why his sweatpants are currently lying abandoned on the floor. He pauses to pull them back on, and as he grabs his T-shirt off the foot of his bed he notes with some relief that he feels somewhat more like himself.

Amy is perched on his couch when he enters the living room, and the gentle kindness in her eyes as she looks up makes his heart clench.

He clears his throat, determinedly trying to focus on something else. “Are you knitting?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together as she looks him up and down, the needles stilling in her hands. “Are you really in a position to be making fun of me right now?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he says hastily, holding his hands up. “Just – observing. Is that a scarf?”

“It’s going to be, yeah. Good eye.”

He smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s really good. Honestly. I love that shade of blue.”

She returns his smile, and for a moment he thinks that maybe he could get used to this, that maybe he likes the sight of her snuggled comfortably into the side of his couch.

Amy coughs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, making his way into the kitchen to hide the blush that’s spread onto his cheeks. “Did you bring those magic cures you promised?”

“Yeah!” She jumps almost excitedly off the couch, laying her half-finished scarf on his coffee table. “Here, let me set it up.”

She hurries past him and starts untying the top of a plastic bag he hadn’t noticed initially. “I actually ordered you some soup and bread – I brought you some meds, too, but you should have something in your stomach before you take them.”

A large plastic tub emerges from the bag, and she grins. “Lucky you – it’s still hot.”

He takes it with a murmur of thanks, and she shoves him toward the table. “Go eat that. I’m gonna prep.”

The soup is heavenly, although Jake isn’t sure it’s possible to mess up chicken noodle soup, and as he tears into the bread he sneaks a glance at Amy.

A pot of liquid is boiling on the stove as she chops something on his cutting board, and as he watches her maneuver easily around his kitchen he feels a curious sense of longing start to rise in his chest.

“Okay,” she says, and his head snaps up. “Push that soup to the side. The goal here is to minimize steam loss, so I’m gonna brief you now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes, but the authoritative tone remains in her voice when she continues. “When I slide this bowl in front of you, you’re going to lower your face so that it’s immediately above the liquid. And then you’re just gonna breathe it in.”

“Like the way pop stars steam their vocal cords.”

“Sure. Yes. Ready?”

He nods, she pours the liquid from the pot into the bowl, and before he can react, his face is directly above a translucent, brownish-orange broth and a towel is being draped over his head.

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“It’s to keep the steam in. Shut up and close your eyes.”

He does, breathing deeply, and immediately starts coughing. “Wha – what is in this?”

“Don’t move!” Amy says indignantly, her voice muffled through the towel. “It’s apple cider vinegar, ginger, garlic, echinacea, and some peppermint. It should help with the congestion and clear some stuff up.”

“It’s spicy!”

Amy laughs. “You’ll get used to it. Keep breathing.”

He falls silent obediently, and as they lapse into a comfortable quiet he starts to feel it again.

The flu is definitely messing with his brain, but a part of him never wants to be sick without her again. Maybe she could take care of him every time he’s sick or hurt or sad. Maybe he could take care of her, too. Maybe he wants the comfort she brings when she’s here. Maybe her coat could find a permanent place draped over his armchair. Maybe it could stay – and maybe she could stay –

“Okay,” she says suddenly, making him jump almost guiltily. “It’s been like ten minutes – how’s the temperature?”

“Um, good,” he says, forcing his voice to remain casual. “It’s pretty lukewarm, actually. Not much steam left.”

Her voice says, “I think you’re done, then,” and then the towel is yanked off his head and he’s blinking in the bright lights of his living room.

She whisks away the bowl before he even has a chance to react, sliding it onto his countertop with a little flourish. “You can reuse that up to three times – it’ll probably still be good tomorrow. Just re-boil it. I’ll text you the full recipe for when you need to make more – you should probably do this twice a day until you feel better.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

She gives him a small smile, then passes him a handful of pills and a glass of water. “Take ‘em.”

He swallows them obediently as she holds up a pill organizer. “I’ve put a week’s supply in here, so you don’t have to figure out how much to take. You should be almost back to normal by the time it runs out, but if not, I’ll give you more.”

He gives her a petulant frown. “I’m not an old man.”

She snorts. “Don’t get sick and beg me like a baby, then.”

He laughs, and she smiles, wringing her hands almost nervously. “I think that’s mostly it – so, um, I’ll head out, let you get some rest – I’ll leave my peppermint and echinacea for you to use, I have plenty at home – ”

“Wait,” he says, much too quickly. “Do you – would you want to stay? I mean, if you’re busy, I totally get it, I just – I’m actually kind of sick of lying in bed all day, and, um, I’d love some company – I read an article about this documentary on cubism we could watch – “

“You’d watch a documentary about cubism with me?”

He gives her an embarrassed smile. “You brought me soup. It’s the least I can do.”

She blushes slightly and rolls her eyes. “Technically, Paul from Postmates brought you soup.”

“Then give me his number and get out of my house.”

Amy laughs, lively and bright, and Jake’s heart soars.

“Fine,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water. “But I’m finishing my scarf as we watch it.”

“Deal.”

And maybe it’s just a coincidence, maybe it’s fate, but when the precinct’s annual Secret Santa rolls around and Jake tears open the wrapping paper to find a familiar, hand-knit blue scarf, he can’t help but feel like the world is trying to tell him something.  

Or, maybe, one person is trying to tell him something.

And as he walks into the bullpen the next morning with his new scarf warm and secure around his neck, he finds it really, really hard to tell the difference.