#and I must always nod to this beautiful shirt somehow

[cowboyshit]

why do i always gotta be so extra with my headers. this is just tumblr for crying out loud

[virtualreader]

under the stars

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: somehow the night watch shifts got jumbled, resulting in a maybe-not-so-forced proximity with the married, appealing leader of the group.

word count: 2,2k.

genre: smut, and a lil' bit of angst.

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, adultery, etc. (not proofread)

a/n: this was requested by an anon, I really hope it is what you wanted, enjoy!

+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!

The night sky laid before your eyes. It was the only thing that had improved with the outbreak. There were plenty of stars that night; they had always been there, but you just couldn't see them.

Contemplating the bright stars made everything seem right as if you were still enjoying summer nights in your backyard. But you were not. You were on watch.

The silence around you was only broken by the crickets and the occasional distant howling of the wind. The moon above shone brightly, casting eerie shadows around you, and the first dewdrops settled down onto the wisps of grass.

Suddenly, you heard a twig snap, and your heart skipped a beat. You turned around and saw Rick approaching you, his brows drew together as he asked, "Whatcha doing up there, y/n?”

“Watch duty,” you spoke simply.

Rick found it strange; he could have sworn that it was his turn tonight. As a matter of fact, it was. However, Glenn had asked for you to cover his shift, as they would not return until late into the night.

"Wasn't I supposed to be on watch tonight?" he asked, shifting his weight to his right leg.

You observed him from your perch atop Dale's RV. His hands rested on his hips, and a substantial amount of blood stained his clothes. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his torso, highlighting the physical exhaustion he must have been experiencing.

"Were you?" you rubbed your forehead. "Glenn told me you couldn't make it here in time for your shift.”

"Mind if I stay?" Rick asked. "I won't be able to sleep a wink anyway, and I think you could use someone to talk to, don't you?”

After accepting his proposal, Rick climbed up the handrails to sit beside you. With your feet hanging off the vehicle, you felt the cold breeze hit your skin, but it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Instead, you welcomed the refreshing feeling, which provided a momentary escape from the tension and stress of everyday life in this new world.

You observed Rick as he took in the view, his expression softening as he relaxed, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the world around him.

As Rick sat beside you on top of the RV, you both found yourselves lost in a conversation that went on for hours. It was a rare moment of tranquility in a world filled with chaos, and you were grateful for it.

"You know what I miss the most from the old world?" he asked, breaking the settled silence.

You looked at him, nodding to encourage him to continue.

"Coffee," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "There was something about that bitter taste that just made everything better. It was like a warm hug in a cup, and it's something that you just can't replicate with anything else." He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "I remember how people used to line up for hours just to get their hands on a cup of coffee from their favorite shop. It was a social event, a way to connect with others over a shared love of caffeine. And now, it's just gone.”

You kept on talking for a while, exchanging memories from the time before the apocalypse. Although it felt like only minutes had passed since he arrived, you found yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life before the dead walked the earth.

You reminisced about renting movies every Saturday night, a ritual you followed religiously. You described dancing around the house with a broom in your hands, singing along to your favorite 80s songs. You explained how you would wander the neighborhood streets for hours with your dog, even on rainy days.

Rick's eyes drifted towards the horizon, and you could see the sadness etched onto his face. "I miss it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss my family, my friends, my job…everything. I miss everything."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. "We all do, Rick. We all do."

"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it," Rick said, his voice heavy with emotion. "All the fighting, all the pain…for what? Just to survive another day?"

You turned towards him and rested your hand on his arm. "It's worth it, Rick. We have to keep going, for ourselves and for the people we care about.”

"You know," you began, hesitating as you tried to gather your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about the world we live in, and how chaotic and violent it can be. It's easy to feel lost and alone like we're all just struggling to survive. But then I look at you, and I realize that you make me feel safe, protected, and cared for." you said, voicing the thought that had been brooding in your mind. "And I believe I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate you as our leader.”

Your cheeks blossomed with red as Rick’s enlarged pupils bored into your soul as if he could read through you. His mere presence was enough to put you in a fight-or-flight mode, making you aware of an attraction you had not acknowledged before.

Rick Grimes was not chosen to be the group leader - it was a role that he fell into almost organically. His rise to leadership was not unexpected. He had always been a man of great integrity and his strong moral compass meant that he was a natural choice to lead the group. Rick's unwavering commitment to the group's survival and his ability to remain level-headed in times of crisis meant that he quickly gained the trust of his peers.

The graze of a hand in your tight startled you, averting your eyes from the sky that had you entranced, to Rick's face. He took advantage of the moment and reached out to gently caress your cheek. You felt a rush of emotions as your heart began to race.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as Rick leaned in closer, responding to the adulterous desire you had ignited within his heart. His breath felt hot on your skin, and you could hear the beating of your own heart as your lips met in a passionate kiss, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been brewing between you for days. Though the world may have been gone, at that moment, everything felt right.

As you embraced the married man, your heart was racing with excitement. You could feel his lips on yours and his arms tightly wrapped around you. But as you both pulled away, a sudden realization dawned on you. What were you doing? You were kissing a married man, and his wife laid just a few feet away, sound asleep. The guilt and shame crept up inside you, and you couldn't help but feel regretful for your actions. It was clear that this was anything but right.

“I-I’m sorry. I should not-” you breathed, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. You looked down at your feet, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You had always been good at thinking on your feet, but at this moment, your thoughts were scattered and disjointed.

"Don't do that," he said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. You tried to look away as if avoiding his gaze would excuse your immoral actions. But the hand he had on the side of your face prevented you from doing so, gently forcing you to look at him as he confessed, "Don’t apologize for something we've both obviusly wanted for a while now.”

And as if he knew what was going through your mind, he added, "Please don't worry about Lori," his voice soft and comforting. "Our relationship had decayed well before you and I met, so don't beat yourself up. If anything, that responsibility rests on me." His words were like a balm to your soul, a soothing reassurance to your worries, easing the fears that had been gnawing at you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself ogling at Rick's physical appearance. You couldn't help but notice the veins on his arms or the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the feeling of desire for him was overwhelming. You knew that your actions were wrong, but in this world, who was there to judge? You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time, something was different. This time, you knew that there was no going back.

When he turned you over onto your back, your heart raced with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down to your hips, gently but firmly holding you in place. As your lips remained locked in a passionate embrace, you couldn't help but shiver from the cool metal of the RV's roof against your skin. You felt a deep connection as he looked into your eyes, his gaze burning with desire and affection. In that moment, you knew that this was more than just physical attraction, but a true emotional bond between two people.

"Don’t make a sound," he muttered pulling away as he placed a finger over your mouth, hurriedly getting free from his dirty shirt. You had to be indeed quiet as to not be heard by the rest of the group, especially his wife.

After struggling with the zipper, you finally freed yourself from your tight-fitting pants. As you did, Rick's mischievous grin grew wider, his eyes lingering on the laced panties that you were wearing underneath. The silky fabric felt smooth against your skin, and you couldn't help but blush as Rick's gaze lingered on you. The enflaming feeling of a light gust of wind grazing your cunt sending a shiver down your spine.

"God damn it," Rick whispered. "You look so good beneath me.”

Rick began exploring your body with his hands, savoring every inch of your skin. He slowly lifted your shirt above your braless chest. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple, causing your back to arch lightly at the sensation. His touch was electric and you couldn't resist the urge to pull him closer, wanting to feel more of him against your body.

Your hands whirled in the back of his head, feeling the texture of his coiled hair in your fingers as they intertwined with it. You felt a rush of passion as your lips connected once again, savoring the taste of his. Your fingers fumbled with his zipper, your eagerness growing with each passing second. His tongue met yours in a frenzied dance, both of you desperate for more.

Once you’d made your way to his hard cock you caressed his bulge, feeling it grow with each passing moment, and you looked up at his face, anticipating his reaction. A muted growl escaped his mouth as he quivered under your touch. You continued to stroke him, your movements becoming more and more deliberate as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

“Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught.” you ordered him after he moaned loudly , smugness emanating from you.

“That’s gonna be hard if your hand stays there any longer, pretty girl.”

His hands slipped under your panties, the circling movements of his fingers over your clit delivering shockwaves through your entire body. You couldn't help but gasp as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, and the pleasure continued to build with each passing moment.

Rick's voice was hoarse as he leaned over you, his eyes dark with desire. "You are so ready for me," he whispered, his fingertips tracing a path down your body until they reached your entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he teased you, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but feel like a dirty girl as he continued his ministrations, but you didn't want it to stop.

He entered you slowly, his fingers teasing your entrance until you were begging for more. When he finally filled you completely, you gasped from the intense pleasure that coursed through your body. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in that moment that you were completely his.

The way he moved inside you was a dance of passion, each thrust taking you higher and higher until you were flying. You clung to him, your hands running over his back as you surrendered to the rapture that he was giving you.

As you both reached the peak of ecstasy, he crushed beside you, his body slick with sweat and his chest heaving. The warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and exhilarating, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

As the night turned into dawn, the two of you lay entwined on the roof of the RV, the cool breeze of the night forgotten. The guilt that had been plaguing you had subsided, replaced only by a feeling of contentment and euphoria. It was a moment that you knew you would never forget, a moment that would forever be etched in your memory as a reminder of the beauty that could still be found in a world filled with chaos.

Perhaps the scintillating night sky was not the only great thing the outbreak bought into your life.

[pinguwrites]

Drabble: you can see Death's son

pairing | death junior x reader

Warnings: stalking, junior being a little obsessive but he's sweet and innocent, supernatural elements

A/N: Bro I just discovered this short film like yesterday and cranked out this small drabble. It's called At Death's Door (1999), where Cillian Murphy plays as some sort of grim reaper. He doesn't have a name in the film, so I made up Death Junior lol. That's his name now, okay?

No one was supposed to be able to see him. As the son of the Death, he was granted the gift of free passage, to travel between the realms of humans and spirits, unseen, like a gentle breeze in the wind. In the few years he had lived — albeit not many — he had come and gone, guiding souls to the beyond, and passing unnoticed by the living. It wasn’t until one fateful day near the end of Autumn did that change. It was the day you saw him; a girl, a mere mortal, whose eyes had somehow been blessed upon his image.

He stood, mouth slightly agape, pink lips chapped. He turned around, to see if you were looking at something else, but when he saw no one behind him, he knew without a doubt that it was him you were staring at. Beyond sight, he could feel it in his belly, a churning. 

This is not right, he thought. This is not right.

You were at the other end of the trail. It was a park, bare trees stripped of their sunset colors, fallen to the ground all crunched and brown. Green grass spread till it reached the surrounding roads, but there was plenty of space in between, where people were eating at picnic benches or playing with their dogs. You had been going for a run, with sweat beading down your forehead and labored breathing, when you stopped for a break and glanced upon him. 

You had given a quick smile, and the world stopped. Who were you? An angel, perhaps, come to steal him away. Or maybe a devil. He could not tell. 

“Are you alright?”

Gentle sound, beautiful. It broke him out of his thoughts, and back to your eyes. You were now standing just a few feet away from him.

He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted. He was dressed in all black, collared shirt, dress pants, polished shoes, and a scythe — his father’s scythe, though he hoped to make his own one day. He must have stood out like a sore thumb amongst all these bubblegum shirts and ripped blue jeans and fanny packs and whatever these people had in fashion these days. It was always changing.

“I — do you need help? You look a little lost.”

Say something, he thought. He’d been around humans enough to understand how to speak to them, and his own family very much modeled a stereotypical Victorian bunch. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to, rather that he had a lump in his throat that prevented him from doing so. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, sir.”

He panicked. “No,” he blurted out, voice soft. He couldn’t let you leave. He just couldn’t. “What’s your name?”

You paused, then told him. In his mind, he repeated the word over and over again, like a religious mantra. He had always found names to be beautiful. They all meant different things and were attuned to culture and heritage. Even though there might be a million people sharing the same one, it was still yours. Like property.

“And you?”

He thought for a moment. He didn’t really have one. As much as he appreciated them, he had never thought of having his own. To him, a name was something he could not claim. Why should he even have one in the first place? He was always referred to as Son, and similarly, he referred to his parents as Mother and Father. That was enough, wasn’t it?

“I don’t . . . I don’t have one,” he said.

“Ah.” You nodded your head. “Shall I call you Reaper? Or Grim? You know, because of your costume? I like it, by the way. Most people have robes or chains, but this is simple, funeral-ish.”

Robes and chains. Oh, he hated the days when he had to wear those. They were so heavy on him, a personal punishment. The burden of the metal was the burden of his purpose, a constant reminder. And the hood, it always shrouded his line of vision. He was glad it wasn’t as popular as it was hundreds of years ago, otherwise he would be forced to wear it now.

“I’m not the Grim Reaper,” he clarified. “I’m his son.”

“I didn’t know he had one. So you’re Death Junior, then? I can call you that if you like it.”

Junior, he thought. June-e-er.

He nodded his head slowly. It wasn’t much of a name, more of a title.

“You live around here?”

He nodded again. It wasn’t the full truth, but if you were going to be here often then so would he.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you again. Have a nice day, Junior.”

You smiled, again, and picked up your pace, heading down the trail. Within a minute you were out of view, and he felt an odd feeling rise in his heart. This was not enough. He needed more. To at least just be in your presence.

He adjusted the grip on his scythe and followed after you. No one gave him so much as a look, which all the more validated his decision like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But even if he was, he still found it okay. It was his curiosity, his innocence, that led him to your small apartment, maybe even a hint of longing, an ache.

For the entire night, he watched as you bathed, dressed, cooked, and finally, went to sleep, with the television on in the background. Apart from observing your essence of being, he wondered what it would be like to be there with you. To help you scrub yourself down with soap, take your clothes down to the laundry room and fold them, help you with dinner, feel your embrace in bed. 

Junior, he thought again. Maybe it was like a name. A name you had given him. Maybe one day this Junior could be just like you. With you, with the girl who could see him.

Taglist: @shroombloom-rry @madnessandobsession @henrywintersdearestgirl @hllywdwhre @your-nanas-house @ellebelleshelby @meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 3/8

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

"Hmmn. No speedos in sight." You observed the beach from left to right.

"Maybe you were thinking of Brazil?" Alicia said, appearing beside you. "Yeah, that must be it. Brazil. "

You shrugged, happy nevertheless. It was a beautiful day, no clouds in sight, the sun hot against your skin. You wore a sundress to Alicia's frustration. However, it was not worth getting burned again.

"So where are the guys. They told us to meet them here, no?"

"I dunno?" You said. Perhaps they were running late.

"Found them." Alicia shirped.

"Where?"

She turned your shoulders for you to look in the right direction. What you saw made your cheeks burn more than the sun did. It was Ruben, Fabio and Theo, all sweaty playing a game of beach volleyboll.

"Ladies, you made it!" They stopped the game, to their opponents dissatisfaction. They were playing against children, really small children. "Y/N, you're here, at the beach." Ruben approached you with a brimming smile on his face. He wore no shirt only swim trunks. Never had you seen so many outlined abs on such fare skin. His body tanned easly.

"Yes, no speedos in sight." You joked, trying to play it cool. However it was difficult, seeing as Ruben was checking you out. Sure, your sundress hid more skin than a bikini, but it did nothing to hide your curves, and the fact that you wore no bra.

"You look..."

"Warm." You smiled, cutting Ruben off from complementing you. He chuckled.

"Yeah, that's the word I was looking for, hot. You look hot."

You shook your head at his smugness, it was silly, but tempting.

"So, do you girls want to join us?" Theo asked, raising the volleyboll in his hand. "In that case it will be you guys against me and my nephews." He turned to the children who looked displeased to have their game interrupted by two females.

"Um, I think we'll pass." Alicia said, dragging you with her to where the taning beds were.

"Did you see how fit he was?"

"Who, Ruben?"

"Yeeees. You should definitely climb that."

"Pardon?"

Alicia giggled, rubbing sunscreen on her legs. "You know, tap that."

"Alicia. English please." You demanded.

She rolled her eyes. "You should fuck him Y/N. How long has it been since you had sex? And don't...." She said, seeing as you were about to protest. "Don't count that little rendezvous you had with your coworker Byron."

"First of all, he was not my coworker when we...you know. I wouldn't do such a thing."

"Oh please. Save that for whoever caught his head between your legs, which by the way, is your current boss."

"Again." You said, fueling Alicia's laughter. "None of us worked together back then. We were all still in university."

"Funny how life works." Alicia held her flat stomach to ease her spasms. "The three of you, now working at the same school." One might think she would die from laughing so hard.

"Yeah yeah, very funny."

"Oh come on, don't be mad. All I'm saying is that if you have the chance to fuck a hot rich guy, take it. Ruben is both of those things."

You chuckled in response as the two of you fell back against your taning beds. There was a marina up ahead. With boats the size of houses.

"Imagine being on one of those." You dreamed.

Alicia nodded. "I would definitely fuck a old rich guy for that."

"I suppose." You grimarced. Alicia always had a strange way of seeing things.

"Oh my god, look!"

"What?" You sat up, raising your sunglasses to see better.

"That one."

Alicia was pointing towards one of the smaller fleets. A yacht named Deria. "Check out the flag." She said, reffering to the one waving on top of a mast. You recognized it as the flag of the UAE. As a kindergarten teacher you knew most of the flags of the world, it came with the job. Alicia however, only knew of this particular flag because you had spotted it every where in Dubai.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She said, raising the usual concern within you.

"No."

She stood. "Come on, let's ask if they'll take friends of Muhammed Siddiq for a boat right."

Apperently the Siddiq family was known all over the middle east, especially in Dubai. After a brief phone call, the crew was happy to have you Alicia, Ruben Fabio and Theo on their boat. Theo's nephews were happy to come along too.

"Again, tell me what you do for a living?" Ruben asked, once all of you were on the boat, somwhere in the middle of the sea.

"You know...." You said, trying to snort the question away. However, you and Ruben were alone at that moment, making it hard for you not to give him a straight answer. And so you lied. "I have a consultant company that deals with clients all over the world."

Ruben raised a brow, impressed by the fact.

"Yeah. I guess you can say that I'm a busy woman."

"Not too busy, I hope?"

Ruben leaned over the boat railing, enjoying the view of both the ocean and.... "I really like you Y/N. I hope that we can...."

You were interrupted by sudden commotion on the top deck of the boat.

"It's Remy." Theo said.

Ruben and you had rushed upstairs to find everyone surrounding Theo and one of his nephews. The boy looked pale, struck by a sudden seasickness.

"He has never been on a boat before. His mother won't let him." Theo said, voice shaking. "I didn't know it was because...."

"Hey, it's okay." Ruben stepped forward calming his friend.

A sudden instict within you kicked in. Quickly you rushed to be by the boy's side, swooping in to care for him. Everyone even gave you the space to do it. The crew adviced you to stay on the top deck whilst they turned the boat back to shore. And so you did, the boys head resting in your lap to the slow movments of the ship.

"Mamãe." He groaned.

"Shhh." It's gonna be okay."

You stroked his head to calm him down. He closed his eyes, allowing you to go on. The sun was setting in the sky to a low summer breeze. As you gently held his head and offered him a cold compress, you felt a presence behind you. It was Ruben, admiring the way you were soothing his friends nephew by telling him random facts about earth. Facts he probably didn't understand, since they were all in english. Nevertheless, the purpose was to be patient and nurturing, and it was clear that the boy felt safe and comforted in your arms.

"You have children of your own, no?" Ruben asked.

You turned your head and smiled. "I just want to make him feel better."

He nodded understandingly, slightly annoyed that you didn't answer his question. He approached, plotting down beside you.

"You're good with children."

"Thanks."

"Do you have any of your own?"

Yes, twenty of them.

"No. But someday."

He nodded. "How many do you want?"

It was cute, how serious he seemed with these questions. You chuckled. "I guess as many as my husband decides to put inside of me."

Ruben's eyes widened, his gaze shifting to the boy asleep in your lap. "You're kidding?"

"Not really." You shrugged. "It all comes down to that, no? How many children a man wants to put inside of a me. I mean how many babies would you like to put in a woman?"

He blushed, regretting having gotten you into this topic. But then his face stilled, his expression confident, eyes piercing yours. "It depends on the woman."

You gasped, but not because of what he said and how it made your insides errupt. "I wasted our night." You said, in a sudden realization.

Ruben's expression faltered, but did not look disappointed at you. "You'll give me your number, no?"

"Sure." You mumbled, wanting to give him more than that.

"Hey." He raised your chin, seeing as it fell. "I'll see you again, no?"

His face, it looked so handsome in the pink son. That's what you did what you did. That's why you leaned forward and kissed him, although Ruben's hand under your chin was already brining you towards his lips.

[the-modern-typewriter]

It's The God Key's 1 year anniversary!!

You can download a PDF of a bonus story for free from my Patreon by clicking on the link. (No sign up anything required, I just can't upload a file on tumblr).

Alternatively, if you prefer, you can read the whole thing below the cut.

Enjoy!

BEFORE

Isaac – Before

Gabriel radiated heat in the dimly lit room, close enough that Isaac could feel Gabriel’s breath on his neck. Close enough to touch. 

They weren’t touching.

Gabriel’s arms were braced on the wall on either side of Isaac’s head, inches away. The desk lamp flickered shadows and illuminations beautiful and strange over his handsome face. His eyes, this close, were a dark rich brown like fertile soil or chocolate. Something that promised sweetness to come. 

Isaac’s heart raced. His skin tingled, imagining touch. Dangerous, magnifying touch. Desperate, wanting touch when so few people ever touched his bare skin. Certainly not like that. 

“I don’t have to,” Gabriel said. “I could just make you feel what I’d do if that would be easier for you.” 

Isaac wound his fingers into the front of Gabriel’s soft cotton t-shirt, keeping him close. Needing to hold something. 

Outside, the city buzzed with students returning from bars, the electric hum of streets at night. In Gabriel’s bedroom, it was quiet. It was quiet and so very loud with the pounding of Isaac’s heart in his ears, with the sound of his breath a little too shallow already. 

He swallowed. What about you?

I don’t find it unpleasant to make you feel good, Isaac. 

A smile curled Gabriel’s lips and the thought was like a caress – this close up it was dazzling. Isaac had, admittedly, always been a little obsessed with Gabriel’s mouth. It was a clever mouth. A lovely mouth. A wicked bright mouth that could convince him of pretty much anything from the moment they met, but rarely felt the need to. Isaac found himself staring at that mouth for too long, for hours on end. 

It didn’t take hours for a telepath to figure his staring out. 

“You don’t find it unpleasant,” Isaac huffed aloud. “High praise.”

Gabriel laughed, softly. “You’re gorgeous. I’m crazy about you. Is that better?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t be allowed to say such things. Isaac’s chest did some utterly stupid flip. He still didn’t get how Gabriel could say such things so easily, how he could say them at all. 

But none of that was the point or maybe it was everything.

Isaac released a shivering breath. He steeled his nerve, even if Gabriel must know already, had to know. “I don’t want you just in my head,” he confessed. “I want—” He couldn’t say it. Too much of a coward. 

I want this to be real. 

Gabriel moved one hand off the wall, slowly so Isaac could follow. “May I?” 

Isaac nodded, even if the confirmation must have been obvious enough in his thoughts to Gabriel already. 

Gabriel’s fingertips brushed along his bare cheek, first skimming along his jaw. 

All of the power in Isaac lit up. It burned. It stretched. Gabriel’s head must be flooded with the thoughts of the whole city as Isaac’s power magnified him at the touch, but he didn’t take his eyes off Isaac for a second. He didn’t seem distracted for a second – as if Isaac was somehow the most fascinating, absorbing thing in the whole world. 

Isaac closed his eyes. 

He parted his lips as Gabriel’s fingers mapped them. His breath had caught somewhere in his throat.

Gabriel had touched him before, carefully, like Isaac was beyond precious. Like how you fed a starving man; lightly, in small increments, so he didn’t vomit up desperately needed sustenance for its rich indulgences. Too much in its goodness to bear. 

But Gabriel had never touched him with this intent before. 

“It’s real,” Gabriel said in his ear. “This is real, Isaac. I’m here. It’s alright.”

Isaac uncurled his fingers from their death grip on Gabriel’s shirt and, quivering, smoothed his hands down. He mapped out over clothes first, the distancing folds of fabric that he knew so well by now. 

Gabriel charted his skin with his fingertips, stroking Isaac’s brows and temples and the bridge of his nose. He slid the other hand warm beneath Isaac’s jumper, each trace a blazing trail. 

Isaac opened his eyes. 

It was real. Gabriel couldn’t use his telepathy now, not against him, not so long as his hands remained on Isaac’s skin. It was real and if the world crumbled and if someone fell down dead and bleeding across the city with the force of Gabriel’s powers spiralling out of control, it didn’t show on his face. 

Gabriel didn’t look miles away. He still looked right there with Isaac, crowding him up against the bedroom wall. Sitting together on the bed, Gabriel hovering over him – perfectly in control. 

Isaac tugged him down, once, to straddle his lap. Still clothed but nonetheless. 

“You are so goddamn beautiful, Isaac Morton,” Gabriel said. 

Isaac seized the nape of his neck then and dragged him into a kiss. It was a clumsy thing, eager, graceless, fucking fantastic. 

Gabriel’s breath hitched with surprise before he kissed back, pressing Isaac further against the wall. 

Isaac’s world dripped away into heat, into fragment. The warmth of Gabriel’s tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth. It claimed his mouth first and, after a panting pause for breath, Gabriel found his throat. He kissed more frantic now, like Isaac might vanish beneath him in an instant. 

Isaac was lost to sensation, to pleasure, putty as always when it came to him. He caught Gabriel’s chin to drag him into another kiss. Getting better with each one. Copying. 

He’d never kissed anyone before Gabriel. He’d never dared. 

Isaac ground his hips up slowly, friction not enough between two pairs of jeans, and the jeans themselves feeling abruptly rather too tight. 

Gabriel pulled back, but only to shuffle Isaac along the bed, to guide him to lay down flat beneath him so his mouth could find new areas to catalogue and worship. How could he possibly be so patient, for all of his urgency? 

“Gabriel.” 

Gabriel hummed against his skin and paused with his hands curled around the bottom of Isaac’s jumper. “May I take it off?” 

Yes. 

There was a beat, no movement, nothing. 

Gabriel? 

Gabriel took his hands off Isaac. 

The power vanished. 

Gabriel could hear his thoughts again and his expression cleared, though he gave Isaac a look. “You’re going to have to be a bit more verbal,” he reminded, with some amusement. 

“Yes,” Isaac said, a bit dazed. He felt kissed senseless. As if that wasn’t obvious. He reached for Gabriel’s shirt, and his own followed. 

Gabriel didn’t immediately put his hands back down though, head cocked, straddling Isaac’s hips. “You know,” he said, as if this was just a casual conversation. “One day I really am going to do this to you with telepathy alone, just so I can feel your thoughts come apart like this. You’re better than a symphony.” 

Colour rushed Isaac’s cheeks and he scowled at Gabriel, stomach making another flip. 

How must the world seem to Gabriel? So exposed at its most intimate layers, emotion and thought ribbons for him to wind and examine as he pleased. How must Isaac seem to him, now? Half-naked, chest heaving, lips kiss flushed and eyes dark with need. 

Thoughts – it was like pink elephants. Knowing Gabriel was listening made his head whirl like a spinning top, flashing carnival lights or carnal delights. Every filthy thing, every secret, every unspoken wish. And Gabriel, sitting there watching him, hearing it all. 

It was too much.

The fear prickled, because to be seen like that…utterly stripped bare without chance of a hiding place…because to be seen like that in all darkness as well as light and still have Gabriel want him at the end of it all, love him at the end of it all…was terrifying. Wonderful, impossible, terrifying. 

Gabriel kissed him right before Isaac lost it and dragged him down, unable to bear it. The world around them blazed, his own powers lighting up inside him like a solar flare once more, and that was almost too much too.

But the ghosts vanished – all seeing creature back to boy again, melting against him. Gabriel, against him, hard and moaning into his mouth. Gabriel kissing every single coherent thought out of his head again, until all the world was once more the scraps of contact between them and the heady rush of tongue and teeth and nails scraping gently along his sides. 

Gabriel moved faster now, hands fumbling Isaac’s jeans and shoving them away to join his jumper and his socks on the floor. 

Isaac tossed Gabriel’s away too, hands smoother, touch less faltering. Gabriel made it easy; encouraging words and praise a never ending stream of sound like small buoys to keep Isaac steady in the storm. Small buoys that shook his world all over again with every “You’re fantastic,” “just like that,” “Isaac.” 

How Gabriel managed to make Isaac’s name sound quite so much like plea and prayer and perfection all at once was beyond him. He said it like the five letters could contain entire languages between two syllables, voice rough with pleasure. 

He kissed down Isaac’s chest, his belly, along his hip and paused again. 

He took his hands off again for a moment – Isaac could have kicked him for taking his hands away, not wanting to lose contact for even a second now that he finally had it. He had it and the world hadn’t fallen apart. Nothing bad had happened. 

And it was real, Gabriel was there. His mouth was inches from Isaac’s cock. 

“May I?” Gabriel asked again. 

“You can hear my thoughts,” Isaac said hoarsely. 

“I know.” 

Isaac swallowed, studying Gabriel’s face for a moment. He reached out, carding a dark curl away from Gabriel’s forehead. Brushing his fingers over Gabriel’s temple, above where he imagined the hulking and unstoppable powerhouse of Gabriel’s powers lay. 

Unstoppable by the world, in Isaac’s hands. Unstoppable, except against Isaac, when in his hands. He steeled himself, mouth dry. “I really fucking like you, Gabriel De Vere.” 

There were a dozen ways Gabriel could have reacted to those words, barely admitted, certainly never aloud. Words were too bold. Words were a commitment where thoughts were flighty. 

Isaac thought his heart might jump right out of his chest. 

Gabriel’s eyes softened, but he simply flashed a grin. “No shit, so can I suck you off or not?” 

Tension Isaac didn’t know he’d been holding vanished and he snorted. That easy, huh? Of course it was. Everything was easier with him. “Yes,” he said, with a smirk of his own. “You may.” 

Gabriel ducked his head down and Isaac came undone. 

Slowly, like how you might feed a starving man who would die without a bite. A graze of teeth, a press of tongue. Slowly, like you never wanted the moment to end. Slowly, until it wasn’t slow and Isaac was a wreck, until he came with a cry – hands clenched in Gabriel’s hair and Gabriel’s name on his lips like a three syllable alphabet that contained all the secrets of the universe. 

Gabriel leaned up to kiss his throat and didn’t take his hands away, though Isaac was all bliss with no thoughts to know beyond it. 

“Perfect, Isaac," Gabriel whispered against his ear. 

Isaac pulled him close.

Gabriel – Before

Gabriel pressed Isaac up against the bedroom wall the second the door shut behind them and kissed him.

His breath caught; the sound muffled into the hot claim of Isaac’s mouth. His head flooded with the world, with a dozen thoughts, with unimaginable power and yet he felt weak at the knees faced with the boy in front of him. He felt entirely off his head already. His hands flailed, not sure where to touch yet, or if he was allowed to.

Isaac laughed, delighted, against his lips. It was an open, lovely sound, uninhibited for once.

Gabriel’s grip tightened desperately on the front of his hoodie. Hoodie was fine. No skin. 

The day had been a beautiful sort of unbearable. Isaac’s thoughts had been a bonfire of desires, wants and ideas that he was entirely too aware of Gabriel listening to. He offered them up with amused eyes, carrying on politely all the while with everyone else. 

There had been times – several times – when Gabriel had been tempted to have Isaac right there and then. He could probably make everyone else in the room piss off and leave them alone, or conveniently forget that it ever happened. He probably would have if it had been a house party, some less important thing.

Isaac had been exhibiting some of his artwork for one of his end of term projects; huge charcoal comic strips, bold and striking in the studio light. There had been wine. Aperitifs on tiny little cocktail sticks. Gabriel couldn’t just wreck that. 

“You are maddening,” he told Isaac helplessly. “Mind in the goddamn gutter.” 

Isaac laughed harder and nipped his lip, playfully. “It’s not my fault. You’re the one who was standing there looking like that. What was I supposed to be thinking about?”

“Your artwork. Your very important, beautiful artwork.” 

He couldn’t hear Isaac’s thoughts to that, this close, but he felt the next answering kiss all the same. Pleased. 

Of course, he knew that Isaac had been nervous. He hadn’t enjoyed all those people crowding around and thinking of him, or his art, of noticing him at all. He thought it dangerous. So he distracted himself by thinking about Gabriel instead, Gabriel knew that. But it didn’t make it any less agonizing to keep his hands to himself. 

“They loved it,” he said, softer. “They loved you.” How could they not? 

Isaac kissed him again until he was breathless, drawing him closer with an eager sound. “Which was your favourite?” he whispered. 

“Comic strip or fantasy?” 

Isaac shrugged, cheeks hot. 

Fantasy then, if Isaac couldn’t actually say it aloud. 

Gabriel hummed and considered for a moment, taking the opportunity to slide his palms beneath Isaac’s shirt, feeling him shiver. Torn. 

He liked, as Isaac knew, the thought of taking Isaac apart with his telepathy alone. He liked the thought of feeling him crumple, undone with pleasure, unable to hide a damn thing of his emotions or just how much he was Gabriel’s. He liked, too, the thought of doing it with his hands, with his lips, until Isaac offered up everything in his head aloud. Visible in his pleas, his moans, the arch of his body against Gabriel’s chest. That was always good. Isaac was more used to touch now, but he was still sensitive to it. 

Gabriel’s heart hammered. He shifted his knee forward, pressing between Isaac’s legs. 

“Cuff me.” 

Isaac paused, his head tipped back against the door, eyes wide. “Really?” 

“Yes. If it will make you more comfortable touching me, absolutely. “

He knew Isaac wanted to touch, he wanted Isaac to, and Isaac had got so much braver in letting himself take what he wanted. Nowadays he reached for Gabriel’s hand easily when he was wearing his gloves, and didn’t hesitate to sit close enough that their shoulders brushed. He even initiated kisses when they were alone with each other. 

But he didn’t reach out anywhere near as much as he always longed to. As he thought about doing.

Isaac swallowed, studying him. He stroked his fingers along Gabriel’s cheek, somewhere between affection and needing a second where Gabriel couldn’t hear him. “You won’t be able to be in my head if I’m touching you. Is that…okay?”

“I trust you.”

A small smile flickered across Isaac’s lips. He ducked his head down to kiss Gabriel again, still cradling his jaw in one hand. “You’re sure?”

“I could make you forget this conversation if I wasn’t sure.” Gabriel pulled his hands back from Isaac, breaking the contact between them just to prove it.

I’m very sure, Isaac. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your hands on me all day.

The tips of Isaac’s ears went adorably red, though he rolled his eyes, biting back an even more goddamn adorable smile. “Shut up. Fine.” Isaac never had been good with people saying or believing nice things about him. His breath was a little shaky, the excitement simmering in his thoughts, that intoxicating and electric cocktail of a brain. 

I’m going to keep complimenting you until you touch me—

Isaac grabbed him and dragged him into another kiss and Gabriel’s stomach swooped. There was a warm, ridiculous glow in the pit of his belly, and a giddy anticipation in his lungs. 

“Prick,” Isaac muttered. 

Gabriel grinned at him. “Sweetheart.” 

Isaac kissed him again, rough and needy and desperate, stepping forward. He backed Gabriel up easily, always the stronger one when he wasn’t holding back.

Gabriel’s knees bumped against the back of his bed with another lightheaded surge of want. He let himself fall back to sit, looking up at Isaac with a small smile. He undid his tie as Isaac watched him, before handing it over crisp and silken. 

Isaac had told him he was ridiculous to wear a tie to an art event. Bet he didn’t think that now.

All yours, Gabriel offered.

Isaac’s mind fizzed, whirled, narrowed down on him. His eyes shone even more than usual, bright with wonder. Gabriel could have stared at them all day.

Gabriel’s heart pounded even harder than before, but he held still. He couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision. 

Isaac touched slowly at first – the small, simple practiced things which were still so bold to him. Warm shaky fingers stripping Gabriel of his clothing, caressing along his skin. He watched Gabriel’s reactions carefully at first, searching for any sign of it being too much, for some danger less lovely than just wanting too badly. 

Gabriel held still, more uncertain without Isaac’s thoughts to guide him. He felt blinded. Every skim of Isaac’s palm was a surprise, however light and cautious. They moved back together on the bed, never completely letting go of each other. A hand on Isaac’s hip, for now, holding them steady. 

Isaac paused on top of him, not quite straddling him, still hovering an instinctive inch above skin contact. 

Gabriel bit back a groan, shoving down the urge to rock his hips up for the press of Isaac against him. Hard. He wanted so obviously too, and yet still he hovered. Gabriel blew out a breath and held himself still all the same, waiting. He’d been waiting all day; he could wait a moment longer for Isaac to be ready. 

Isaac leaned in to kiss him again, sweetly. His hands settled on Gabriel’s shoulders, familiar there.

The power flared again, endless, limitless – Isaac. 

Isaac’s hands smoothed down to take his own, entwining their fingers together. Testing. Allowing himself to want, to act.  

Gabriel smiled to watch him. Isaac kissed his fingertips. He kissed his knuckles. The palms of his hands. 

God, Gabriel was going to be crazy by the time Isaac was done with him, he was sure of it. Isaac didn’t even mean to do it. 

Isaac wrapped the tie around his wrists.

“How’s your head?” he asked Gabriel.

“Very much here with you.” It came out a little, stupidly, wrecked. 

Or maybe not stupid. How could he be anything other than mesmerized? 

“Isaac.” 

Isaac escalated between one heartbeat and the next - an exploded dam. His mouth was hot against Gabriel’s neck, his shoulder, initiating over and over and over, fearlessly. 

Gabriel didn’t hold back. He couldn’t have. Isaac unravelled him masterfully. Or maybe every small kiss was simply enough to wreck him, when Isaac was the one doing the kissing. He shifted on the bed. Moaned, as Isaac’s fingers curled around him and stroked. Moaned harder still, frustrated, when Isaac stopped. 

It was strange, being with someone, not hearing their every thought and pleasure echoed back at him. “Talk to me,” he begged. 

“I can’t decide where to start,” Isaac said, with another small laugh. “You know, option freeze. God. You should see the look on your face.” His other hand came up, stroking Gabriel’s cheek briefly. “I should blindfold you, so you can’t keep looking at me like that.”

“Like I adore you?” 

“Prick. Do you want me to stop?”

Gabriel laughed and leaned in to kiss his shoulder, along his neck, just under his ear. “We’ve got time, don’t stop,” he murmured. “Please.”

“I want to fuck you.” 

A bolt of heat shot through Gabriel, so hard that his head spun. His hands twitched against the tie. He swallowed, sure he was as wide-eyed now as Isaac normally was, surprised, but he had to smile back. “Go hard or go home.” 

“Can I?”

“I might kill you if you don’t right now.” 

Isaac kissed him again. Baseline. He kept coming back to it, delightful and maddening all at once. Still, Gabriel was glad for it. It steadied him too. It helped him focus on just them, not the roar of thoughts, just them.

Now. Here.

Isaac straddling his hips and kissing him, stroking him, filling him as the minutes ticked by.

Here. Now.

Pleasure only growing by the second with every thrust of Isaac’s hips, and Isaac close and lovely, unafraid. Isaac’s ragged breath, and that look on his face. 

Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. 

Gabriel came with a cry. 

Isaac followed soon after, blissful and boneless against him. 

Gabriel had never wanted anyone, anything, so much in his life.

This was peace. 

He knew this was forever.

AFTER

1 - Isaac

“Are you doing this?”

Mona’s eyes flicked up, just once and briefly, from her knitting to acknowledge Isaac’s presence. She looked to be making some kind of green poncho with dandelions embroidered into it. Was it knitting or crochet? He had no idea. It didn’t matter.

Isaac gritted his teeth. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling heat already rising up his neck to burn the tips of his ears. A silence stretched between them.

“Guessing it’s not you, then?” Isaac tried.

“You haven’t told me what I’m accused of.”

Isaac swallowed. “The dreams.”

Mona raised an eyebrow. A mug of something unrecognisably golden, that wafted a sweet scent of honey and flowers around the room, simmered on the counter next to her.

“About Gabriel,” he said.

She didn’t say anything.

“Oh, come on,” he snapped. “Are you going to pretend you don’t know what I’ve been dreaming about?”

“Will it get me out of having this excruciating conversation with you?”

“Just tell me if it’s you or not!” His face was, officially, burning.

“Your bad decisions are absolutely nothing to do with me in this case.” She stabbed particularly viciously with her needle. “Try the ex.”

“Gabriel doesn’t control dreams.”

“No, but we know he can make you think whatever he likes, whether intentionally or not.”

Isaac scowled at her, but after everything, he couldn’t disagree. Even if it did slightly feel like he should be defending Gabriel’s honour. Gabriel didn’t do that anymore. Still.

After a moment, she glanced up again. She sighed with exaggerated long-suffering at his expression, but did put her knitting/crochet down.

Mona’s café was quiet around them, but by lunch time it would be heaving with people eager to experiment with her fantastical offerings. She considered him for a beat.

“It’s not Archangel.” She said it with all the gentle seriousness of someone who knew just how bad it would be if it was, and just how many nightmares Isaac had. “It’s not a trap or a conspiracy. I don’t think.”

“You don’t think it’s Gabriel?”

“Almost wish, for your sanity, that it was.”

“Thanks Mona.”

“They’re just dreams, Isaac. You don’t have to overthink it. Or do anything. It’s just dreams.”

Isaac managed a vague smile and, as the door chimed open with a new customer, he fled.

***

The dreams were…well. Sexy. They were bloody sex dreams.

Sure, Gabriel was an attractive man, always had been to Isaac. Sure, Gabriel had taken up hiking alone, following his resolution about being better at not knowing what everyone was thinking all the time. All the uphill walking made his arse look incredible. But that wasn’t an excuse!

Isaac, categorically, should not have been having multiple sex dreams about his ex. About Gabriel. Sleeping with Gabriel again would be an absolutely insane idea. The two of them were just about getting to a good place after everything. As friends. How could Isaac ruin that?

The only mercy was that he and Gabriel didn’t live on a campus together anymore, because he didn’t think he could bear waking up with Gabriel hearing his every frantic, shameful thought.

In the last dream, he’d been in the flat he’d shared with Archangel. It should have been a nightmare. It was a nightmare. The dream had been set in the early days of that particular arrangement – fake domestic bliss. Isaac was floating in a fog of peace and contentment, of the like he’d terribly struggled to find since, when Gabriel entered the room.

Isaac had smiled at him and asked if dinner was ready.

Gabriel had walked straight up to him and kissed him hard, already reaching for Isaac’s t-shirt. “Quickly,” he’d murmured. “Before he gets back. We can’t be us then.”

Archangel had never done anything like that.

Isaac had woken up; confused, wanting, aching with too many things.

Sometimes the dreams took place in the past, where everything was simpler. One time, it had even been goddamn Archangel, so Isaac didn’t even want to know what that said about his twisted psyche. Always, though, Gabriel’s face. Gabriel’s smile. Gabriel’s hands and lips and the firm press of his body, so familiar with Isaac, so at home.

Fuck.

Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.

Or, maybe, he just needed to repress it like a champ.

2 – Gabriel

Isaac was thinking about his arse again.

Once upon a time, Gabriel would have glanced back at him, met his eyes, grinned and maybe sauntered up the stairs with a bit more swagger than before. Once upon a time felt like a very long time ago. He had no idea if Isaac wanted him to acknowledge the fact he was doing it or not.

He really had been doing it a lot of late, more than usual. It was as flattering as it was bewildering.

“So,” Isaac scrambled, as he caught himself. “How’s the course going?”

They’d already talked about Gabriel’s course. “I’m starting to think half the people who go into psychology have something wrong with them.”

Isaac laughed. They reached the top of the stairs and Isaac swiftly scoured the art gallery walls for a painting he could comment on. Gabriel watched him wet his lips, nervously. He thought about kissing them. Isaac had very kissable lips. He did his best to push the urge away.

The two of them had only recently began hanging out alone. In the immediate aftermath of everything, they’d always made sure Sanna, Dahlia or Mona or someone was in the room with them. It just seemed safer.

It was good spending time with Isaac again though. Good and painful.

Isaac was still, understandably, wary. Except when he was thinking about the fit of Gabriel’s favourite jeans.

Isaac glanced over at him. He studied the way the light danced off Gabriel’s face from the high windows, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the warmer shades in his dark hair. His mind was a palette; ochre, almond, sienna. He thought about that time, in second year, when Gabriel had modelled nude for him. He swallowed.

Gabriel swallowed too, clearing his throat.

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, hands covering his face. He turned away. “Sorry. Christ.”

“No, no,” Gabriel said. “It’s fine. It’s cool.” He tried for a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to peek. Or taking you too seriously or anything. People think all sorts.”

“About their exes?”

That got a proper smile out of him, despite everything. “Especially about their exes.”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re being nice,” Isaac said.

“Well, I’m not offended.”

He really was trying not to take Isaac’s consideration too seriously. A fantasy didn’t, after all, mean that Isaac wanted to actually do any of it. It didn’t mean he wanted Gabriel back. It didn’t make it a good idea.

They meandered in silence for a little while.

The exhibition was all at about the enormity of nature. The way it could overwhelm. It was full of moody seascapes and one particularly memorable still life of all the fruit that had become a euphemism since emojis were invented.

Isaac’s musings on the works, normally so absorbed, were scattershot. The last time he’d caught sight of Gabriel, he’d started thinking about the time Gabriel nearly convinced him that to do it with him in a field.

Gabriel wasn’t going to comment. He shouldn’t comment. It didn’t matter that, back at university, he definitely would have commented something.

“So,” Isaac said. “Anyone nice on your course? Or are they all psychopaths?”

“All psychopaths,” he said promptly.

Isaac shot him a look.

Gabriel grinned back at him. There were plenty of nice enough people on his course, naturally. Though that wasn’t what Isaac was really asking, was it?

“What about you?” he asked. “Have you met anyone nice?”

It was a conversation they had both avidly avoided since Isaac’s return to the city. Mostly, he’d figured Isaac was too busy learning how not to be a hermit to date, but it struck him suddenly that Isaac could. He surely got offers.

Gabriel could be gracious and normal about it if Isaac kissed someone else in front of him, right? He was a mostly-functioning adult.

“Sure,” Isaac said. He hesitated, before continuing. “It’s a whole thing, isn’t it, starting fresh with someone. How do you even explain everything? Have you done it before?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Dating’s weird for me. I see in their head straight away. There’s no grace period where everyone pretends to be better than they actually are.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. “I definitely don’t have that problem. I just assume they must be monsters if they seem too nice.”

It wasn’t funny, but Gabriel still snorted, given everything.

Isaac didn’t have anyone else that he was thinking about. No recurring names. Not that Gabriel was checking, he really wasn’t. It was just there. The person he was thinking about was—

Gabriel peeled off one of his gloves, having grown used to wearing them around Isaac, and offered a hand.

“Ah,” Isaac said mildly. “Crap.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” Gabriel said, before Isaac could start worrying. “But I don’t want to intrude or – you know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He felt the moment Isaac switched their conversation to a telepathic one.

It’s okay if I’ve freaked you out. I’ve been a bit freaked.

Gabriel let his hand fall. His mouth had gone dry. He wrenched his gaze off Isaac, to peer blindly at the latest artwork that probably deserved more of his attention. It was an enormous tree.

You haven’t. Dreams are a way of processing things that have happened. It’s perfectly normal.

That your professional opinion?

Gabriel nodded. He could feel Isaac’s eyes on his face, feel the careful tread of him, the myriad emotions all churned together. Desire. Hope. Fear. Guilt.

What’s your unprofessional opinion? Isaac asked.

Gabriel’s heart slammed in his chest. He was abruptly glad that Isaac hadn’t taken his hand. While he wouldn’t control the conversation, it was still beyond a relief to have the feedback loop of Isaac’s brain in such uncharted waters.

He still stayed silent for a beat, on the edge of everything. He should do the good thing. He should do the right thing. Isaac was fragile, he needed –

He stopped.

Isaac was a grown man who could absolutely make his own decisions. If Gabriel was one of those incredibly suspect decisions…well. Maybe he was enabling. But who was he to decide?

We’re a terrible idea. He finally met Isaac’s eyes again. We can probably be in a hotel room in twenty minutes.

Isaac took his hand and led him out of the gallery without another word.

3 – Isaac

Isaac pushed Gabriel up against the hotel room door to close it. It locked with a soft click nearly drowned out entirely by the small sound Gabriel made when Isaac kissed him.

Gabriel’s hands tangled into Isaac’s hair, stinging his scalp, hauling him deliciously closer.

Their last kiss had been a bittersweet thing; an ending, a reconciliation, a promise of the future all at once. The kiss that devoured them then had no such lofty ambitions. It was a kiss unlike any that had come before it, and it cared for nothing beyond the present.

“Still strange,” Gabriel managed, distractedly, breathlessly. “Kissing you without the power surge. Not bad, just—”

Isaac caught his jaw, and kissed harder, more intent. He still remembered what had made Gabriel crazy once, after all. He was rewarded with another of those small sounds, more ragged than before, and Gabriel having to lean against the door when his knees went weak. Isaac grinned smugly against his skin, catching his breath.

“Yeah,” Isaac said. “I gathered not bad.”

Gabriel pushed him backward, with an entirely-too-fond roll of his eyes, pressing Isaac further into the small room and onto the large double bed that took up nearly all of the available space. “It’s good. You’re good. So good for me. Gold star.”

“Hey.” Isaac’s cheeks coloured, somewhere between delight and embarrassment at the half teasing, half earnest velvet of Gabriel’s purr. “Don’t mock—”

Gabriel kissed him and Isaac lost track of whatever he’d been about to say. It was surely unimportant. Nothing compared to the way that he was grinning so hard that it hurt. Nothing compared to the fact that he’d feared it would be awkward and terrifying, but it wasn’t. Nothing compared to the crisp soft sheets beneath them; tantalisingly void of their history, white as a blank slate.

He drew Gabriel with him, on top of him, not breaking the kiss until they were both gasping. He tore Gabriel’s shirt from him, temporarily absorbed once again by what had changed and all that hadn’t.

New scars, for him to map and learn the stories of later, but run his fingers and lips over for now and claim. A softness that hadn’t been there in the angular jut of Gabriel’s nineteen-year-old bones. Maturity, as well, though. He looked more himself. There was a healthy glow to Gabriel’s skin that settled something foolish and less carnal in Isaac’s chest.

Gabriel was finally taking care of himself. That was good.

Gabriel’s fingers were just as eager, just as hungry to refamiliarize. One of his hands made quick work of Isaac’s trousers, soon wrapping around him, stroking and stuttering Isaac’s concentration. It was Gabriel’s turn to draw out a sharp breath, a moan, from Isaac’s lips. To prove exactly how well he remembered.

“Forgot how gorgeous you are,” Gabriel said.

Isaac shivered. “No, you didn’t. Bastard.”

“So pretty when you fall apart for me. I’m looking forward to it.”

Isaac dragged him into another kiss and Gabriel laughed against him. When they were breathless again, Gabriel planted a hand on Isaac’s chest, holding him down so he could take a moment to drink in the sight of Isaac properly as he continued to stroke. Lazy, almost, for all the heat and need of the kisses.

Isaac felt his cheeks colour a little again, despite himself. The ‘hurry up, what are you waiting for?’ caught in his throat. He made a show of settling back more comfortably against the bed instead, chin jutting up slightly. He bit his lip, luring Gabriel’s night-dark gaze to his mouth.

Gabriel immediately had to kiss him again, of course. Isaac took the opportunity to wrap an arm around him, to cup his arse, to grind up into Gabriel’s body, to hear him groan.

He’d half feared Gabriel would be so tentative, so scared to touch after everything, but this was something else. He’d known for a long time that Gabriel wanted him. He’d rarely been so forward about it though; willing to lead, certainly, but always with such delicacy, stopping every minute to check that Isaac was okay.

Cautious. Sweet, caring, but cautious.

It took seeing Gabriel now, more relaxed, to realise just how carefully he must have always been managing his desires and telepathy before. Certainly, it took effort, still, not to just magnify. Not to give and give and give and leave it all in Gabriel’s hands to carry, to assume he’d know when to stop and what to do without Isaac saying a word.

Strange. But not bad. Not bad at all.

“How do you want to do this?” Isaac asked. “I have – I brought –”

“So well-prepared. It’s almost like you planned it.”

“Well, I thought about it.”

“What did you think about?” Gabriel kissed down his neck. “Dream about?”

“Am I ever going to hear the end of that?”

“There are some obvious ways to shut me up.”

Isaac did, with another kiss. By the time they were done, they were both flushed and hard, clothes carelessly discarded and flung aside. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

“I want you every which way I can have, Isaac. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Isaac had to kiss him again, greedily, for that. He’d been cautious before too, hadn’t he? Always certain that the next touch might be disaster, every kiss a deadly gamble, to be savoured so he could make it last for as long as possible until next time.

There was no disaster anymore. No need for crumbs. In that moment, in that room, he could have as much of Gabriel as he wanted.

Soon enough, he had Gabriel inside him. He was a masterpiece above Isaac; dark curls dishevelled by Isaac’s fingers and falling over one side of his handsome face, strong lean arm braced beside Isaac’s head, eyes temporarily fluttered closed with pleasure, or maybe a flood of telepathy as Isaac had to take a beat to get his powers back under control. Or both.

“All good?” Gabriel asked, after a beat.

“Uhuh. Sorry.”

“All good. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He did. Isaac wasn’t sure what to do with that, only that the feeling of safety and bliss was too tentative to be manufactured. Real. Not a dream. Not a nightmare, either.

Soon they were moving, and Isaac’s hands were in Gabriel’s hair again, and they were rising and – done. A puddle of limbs together on the bed.

Isaac felt he should paint the moment, or something ludicrous, but he was also absolutely certain that he was not moving anywhere or doing anything immediately. Except, maybe, to settle his head against the crook of Gabriel’s arm. That was better.

“Fuck,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah.”

“I missed that.”

Isaac shot him a look, exasperated and entirely too-fond despite all sanity and reason, because really. Always with the saying lovely, too honest things he should have the decency to think silently like everyone else.

Gabriel caught the look and winked. It should have been cheesy. It was awful. Isaac still kissed him again, heart pounding, warm and sweet.

Because, yeah, okay. He’d missed it too.

Isaac slept brilliantly that night.

[i-eat-boyz]

T.W. recreational drug use (weed)

The group is smoking together being as raunchy as always and they get to the topics of virgins. Farleigh is in one of his usual bitchy moods and tries to embarrass Oliver in front of the group

"Speaking of virgins Oliver Quick does the name ring true. Are you a quick shot? Would you even know what to do if you had a pair of lips right in front of you."

Of course they all laugh expecting his usual flustered red eared silence when Farleigh throws his little quips. Felix is already gearing up to defend him. There's nothing wrong with being a virgin; yes Felix lost his virginity at 15 to some girl at some party but, Oliver was different. He was a late bloomer and didn't even seem like he thought about stuff like that.

Oliver in one of his rare confident moods just smiles and takes a pull of the joint he and Felix had been hogging between the two of them all night.

"I'm not sure actually Farleigh maybe next time I'll have you come and time me. Well what else is there to do when you have a pair lips right in front of you?"

Farleigh is already frowning. Upset that he'd had any response at all was slow to repond. Before he could retort Oliver gives he sheepish smile like he thought he was answering an obvious question he takes another pull. He holds a V sign up with his two fingers in front of his mouth blowing smoke rings in his directions like a mocking blown kiss.

"Enjoy the meal of course."

The group cackles at his unexpected answer unused to weird and quiet Oliver biting back. Farleigh harrumphs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm surprised. I didn't even think lips were on your menu. Thought you had a taste for things a bit bigger... and out of your budget."

The laughing of the group gets even rowdier Oliver fleetingly wondering how no one has come knocking on the door the group of high, obnoxiously laughing group smoking pot in this terribly vented apartment. Then remembers who he's with.

Oliver sees Felix sitting up to say something. He had looked so soft and beautiful splayed out next to him eyes hazy and Farleighs need to get the last word ruined it. Oliver puts a hand on Felix's side to settle him. Stroking the bit of exposed skin where his shirt rides up. Then level Farleigh with a look of almost amusement. Almost. Farleigh feels it then that he'll pay for it later his need to always get the last word, be top dog.

All Oliver does is smile and laughs.

"I've got a very broad pallet." Poking his tongue between his lips while making a vulgar jerking motion.

The group is wheezing at this point at the back and forth. The weed must be that good Oliver thought for them to be laughing at something he said.

He sits back. When Farleigh does not respond the others take back over the conversation in the room.

When he looks back to Felix who is shoulder to shoulder with him on their shared seat and finds him staring. Oliver holds out the burning joint between them. Felix doesn't grab it and doesn't even raise his hand to reach. Just continues to stare after a couple moments of this Oliver starts to feel the heat of the joint near his fingers he asks,

"You alright mate? Or are you done?"

Felix shakes his head like he was dog riding itself of ticks and then somehow presses himself closer all but sitting in Oliver's lap. Who's hand had yet to leave the slip of skin on his side. Thumb stroking circles.

"Not yet. I'm not done at all Ollie." And won't be anytime soon Felix thought.

Oliver nods and places the joint between Felix's lips. Gently caressing his cupid's bow with his thumb before pulling away. Through it all neither looks away. Muttering a thanks around it before settling in. Felix closing his eyes going back to soft, dreamy, calm of before.

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

32) dust motes, Martin

The way that stained glass filters sunlight has a way of making everything feel—a little more holy. A little more beautiful. He understands anew, when the frosted segments of Akatosh cast the chapel in bright hues, the sense of serenity the chapel bestows.

The stained glass paints the front pews in bright afternoon oranges and golds, where Sister Oleta dozes next to the cobbler’s little girl. “We are praying, boy,” she grumbles without opening her eyes. The little girl cracks an eye open to peek, ducking her head again in embarrassment and holding her clasped hands over her face when she sees Martin.

Where Sister Oleta is praying in the front pew, he amends mentally. “I wouldn’t suggest otherwise,” Martin says, smiling, and blows a thin speckling of dust off the worn edge of the pulpit. In the light, against the shadows further in, the dust in the air looks like the flecks of gold leaf that cling to one’s fingertips from the front covers of the older catechisms. He draws a slow inhale. Dust in the air, breath in his lungs.

Perhaps it’s only that the right light can make anything beautiful.

The heavy sound of the chapel doors opening interrupts his cleaning and earns a dignified snort from Sister Oleta, mimicked in miniature by her studious little shadow. Eldamil stands squinting under the arch at the shift from bright outdoor sun to the darker chapel interior, his tall spindly frame silhouetted nearly black against the color of the city. His expression shifts as his eyes must adjust. “Brother Martin,” he nods. “I have the Guild’s donations for the month.”

“Ah—thank you.” Martin skirts the pulpit to hurry down the aisle. The small wood crate Eldamil lowers into his arms rattles faintly with the tell-tale sound of alchemist’s bottles. “Let me put these away and I’ll draw up your receipt.”

“Oh, do allow me to assist,” Eldamil says with a cat’s smile, quick. “I didn’t make any of these; it’s the least I can do, I’m sure.”

The hues of light in the chapterhouse are much less bright, much less variegated, but not unwelcome. Martin sorts and Eldamil tallies, head bent and shoulders stooped to accommodate his height as the pen scratches over the page. “Have you been well?” Martin holds up a bottle to inspect the smudged label—handled wetly while the ink was yet drying, it seems.

“Fairer than ever, Brother Martin.” He peers over the tops of his glasses frames at the bottle, then offers, “Allergy warning—wheat in that one.”

He sees it, now, the feathered shapes more legible once the meaning is supplied. “Thank you,” Martin sets down the bottle. “The constitutionals have been helping, then?”

Eldamil flickers another smile, somehow more obfuscated than the bleeding of the ink on the label. “You’ve no idea.”

“It’s good,” he says, watching him, curious, “to find a fresh perspective. A change every now and again refreshes the mind, I’ve found. Did you find anything interesting, exploring the streets afresh?”

“Many things,” Eldamil waves a hand. The curve of his mouth does not falter. “Odd, isn’t it, how people perform the same routines, take the same paths every day? Nothing changes, nothing new. No one really knows the place they live in.” He huffs a laugh, the light catching a glint off the lenses of his glasses. “No one really knows their neighbors, for that matter. Do we, Brother Martin?”

The last bottle tallied, his signature on the receipt. “No,” Martin says thoughtfully. “But isn’t that why we make the effort? There is always something to learn.”

“There is that,” he agrees. He scans the receipt before nodding, satisfied, and folding it to tuck into his shirt pocket. “Thank you for this. And for the privilege of assisting.”

“Please,” Martin lifts the emptied crate, amused, “I appreciate it. Let me carry this to the door for you. It went much quicker with the help—you seem singularly focused, lately. You are well?”

Some note of surprise flits across his face, then is subdued by his usual composure. “Yes, I promise. No need to waste your priestly concern on me, Brother. I suppose I am…” Eldamil pauses, adjusts his glasses, almost embarrassed. “I am only a little—a little excited. I am making myself ready,” he says at last. “I have a friend, coming to visit soon. That’s all. I’d like to show him all the new ways to walk the streets I’ve been learning. All the—small things, to appreciate, you understand.”

He does. It’s a nice thought to share with someone. He thinks of his own little discoveries of wonder, things to pause and point to. Dust in the air. Flecks of gold leaf. It’s only that people so often take it as doctrine instead, from his mouth. Martin walks him back up the short flight of stairs, the colorful chapel light welcoming their return, warmly dazzling. “I hope that your friend enjoys the city.”

Eldamil’s gaze lingers at the front of the chapel, where Sister Oleta has acquired three more small students tugging at her skirts with a thousand whispered questions that she shushes: There’s an order to these things, you lot; finish your prayers. He smiles without teeth, as blooming and golden as the motes still suspended aloft. “I think he will.”

[femme4ngel]

coffee with mbappe ✩

𐐪♡𐑂 summary: you have a horrible day and call your best friend, kylian. you can always count on him.

𐐪♡𐑂 pure fluff, can be seen as platonic or romantic ( reader refers to mbappe as their bestfriend)

𐐪♡𐑂 pairing: kylian mbappe x fem reader

after a stressed day you call your best friend, the one you can always count on. kylian. he picks up immediately, he asks about your day, his kind voice melting your heart immediately. you whine and tell him about the horrible weather, your mean boss, the rude costumers, all that went wrong with your day. as you talk you can feel tears rolling down your face. you sniff, trying to vipe away the tears with the sleeve of your hoodie hoping kylian didn’t hear your shakey voice. but he does, and tells you to put on something comfortable and meet him in front of your apartment in 5 minutes.

- oh okay, im just going to put on sweatpants is that okay? or should i wear something prettier?

you ask not wanting to embarrass him if you go to somewhere fancy. ( plus the cameras are always on kylian and whoever hes with wherever he goes)

- noo, sweatpants are perfect! im bringing you my big paris hoodie, i know you love. no one will see us, i promise amour. just be ready!

he sends you kisses trough the phone and hangs up. you sit on your bed confused for a second, but then you think about it rationally and realize that going out with kylian will be the best remedy for this awful day. so you get ready, wash your face, spray on some bodymist and put on a simple pair of sweatpants with a black shirt. you grab your coat and phone, close the apartment and go downstairs, waiting for your best friend on the side of the street. kylian arrives just in a minute, he gets out of the taxi and steps up to you. he takes your hand into his, squeezing you into a tight hug.

- where are we going ky? im really tired, im sorry. i had such a bad day and..-

he looks at you kindly with joy and sparkles in his eyes.

- its okay, amour we aren’t going anywhere far. just hang on for a little, you’ll see ill make your day so much better!

you smile back at him nodding and the two of you start walking through the streets of paris. the paparazzi somehow doesn’t bother you, you keep looking around but no-one seems to care about you and kylian embracing eachother. ( maybe his disguise consisting of a black hoodie and cap is actually working) he guides you through isolated parts of the city, lonely houses, abandoned buildings with plants growing on their walls, narrow alley’s with small stairs. you walk in silence but its not uncomfortable, you feel at peace with him by your side. after crossing under a small bridge you arrive at your destination. its a beautiful small coffeehouse, its walls are built from old rocks and brown wood, the windows are painted glass with church like decorations. the house has a little terrace with a few people sitting at elegant white tables sipping on their drinks. kylian looks at you;

- see cherie? i told you id make your day better!

- oh kyky, this is so beautiful! iv never been here before, iv never even heard about it!

you look at him with a surprising adoring look. you think about how special this place must be for him, how hidden it is. you wonder if he comes here often, if he runs away from the crowd and strangers to this little miraculous paradise.

- thank you kylian, really i.. thank you.

you smile at him, trying to make him realize how grateful for him you truly are.

- you are so welcome y/n. i’m glad i have you in my life, and i’m glad you will now also know about this place. maybe it will provide you a similar comfort as it does for me.

he says, answering your unasked questions.

you spend the rest of the evening in the caffee drinking teas after teas, trying out every flavor they have. no one harasses kylian, the waiters seem to know him but they just treat him like everyone else. kylian listens to you as you tell him about your horrible day again, then he tells dumb funny things from his day. how neymar and him pranked his other teammates, how he scored at practice or how he didn’t score and actually fell on his butt on the pitch. you laugh for hours, your cheeks hurting from the constant smiling. he truly is your best friend, capable of making you forget anything that hurts, anything that worries you. and you just hope you can provide him the same kind of support and love, always standing by his side. the night ends with kylian in your bed as the big spoon, with you in his arms, in his paris hoodie snoring peacefully.

[maybeimamuppet]

it isn't much, but it is enough for me

hello everyone!! hope you’re having a great day!

this is a request fill for Revolting Child on ao3 who requested matilda and miss honey’s first night together after the events of canon :)

tw for 

implied/mentioned abuse 

nightmares

implied ptsd

and as always if i’ve missed something please let me know so i can add it :)

enjoy!

—————

Neither Matilda nor Miss Honey are entirely sure how to get started. 

In the moment, everything had seemed so certain. The Trunchbull had been run out of school, Matilda’s parents had agreed to the adoption. Nothing else mattered just then. 

They realized slowly, as the school day came to an end and all the other children went home to their families, that it matters quite a lot. 

Matilda and Miss Honey simply sit in the empty classroom, occasionally looking at the other, both unsure of what to say or what to do. 

Eventually, Miss Honey gently stands from her desk. “Well, um… why… why don’t we pop by your house and fetch some things you’ll need?” 

Matilda nods and grabs her school bag from her hook, feeling the smooth leather of the straps as she hooks them over her shoulders. Miss Honey gently reaches out a hand for her. Matilda takes it and slowly leads her on the long walk to her house. 

She hesitates as her hand touches the cool brass of the doorknob. Memories come rushing back to her. 

The garish wallpaper, somehow orange, yellow, and green all at once. The pinks and the oranges and the yellows and… so bright. The strange texture of the carpeting. The yelling she’s still preparing instinctively to hear, muffled, but louder as soon as she opens the thick wooden door. 

This time, there’s nothing. 

Apart from the scattered furniture and knickknacks her parents left behind, there’s no sign of life. It’s like a bomb went off. Broken things on the floor, clothing that didn’t fit inside overstuffed suitcases carelessly crumpled on the ground, other bits and bobs everywhere. Nothing where it belongs. But if not for those things strewn carelessly around, you’d never know anyone ever lived there. 

Matilda gently crouches down and picks up one of her mother’s china dancer figurines. Matilda always loved them. She was never allowed to touch them, for fear she’d break them, but she admired them and their beautiful colorful dresses from afar. 

She carefully strokes a finger over the smooth figurine, down her hair and over the frills at the bottom of her dress. Her mother must have dropped it. There’s a tiny little fractal of her skirts missing at the very bottom, the rough texture of the inner china a stark contrast to the smooth glaze on the outside. She adds it to her bag without a word. 

Miss Honey silently follows her up the stairs to the attic, her bedroom. Matilda looks around. Last night was her last night ever sleeping stuck up here, illuminated by the moonlight through the small window, listening to all the creaks of the wood and the groaning as the rainwater rushed through all the pipes, deafening so high up. 

Matilda hesitates, deciding what to take. She packs all the clothes she has that still fit. Not many. A few dresses, a shirt, some jeans. That’s about it. Her drawings she did. A few little toys she made herself out of various things she found in the house and around the neighborhood, just for sentimentality. 

She freezes outright when she gets to her books. Miss Honey watches from Matilda’s firm old bed. “Make a list of what you have. We’ll take what we can carry and find replacements for the others. Just make sure you get all the ones that are special to you.” 

Matilda nods and scratches a list on the back of one of her drawings. She packs up the first book Mrs. Phelps had let her keep, a few more that she had gotten from various people in the neighborhood who were kind enough to notice her and her love of reading. 

They’re in and out within less than fifteen minutes. Matilda’s entire life packed into one bag, with a few books that didn’t fit carried in her arms. She plucks a rose from the bush outside as they walk back down the path and takes one last look. 

The house didn’t do anything to her. But she’s still glad to leave it. 

—-

Miss Honey leads her in through the rickety door to the shed she calls home. Matilda smiles to herself as it clinks shut behind her. 

She takes a deep breath. Miss Honey’s house smells like… flowers. Crayons, old books, something a bit dusty, in a nice way. It smells like a home. 

“Just for tonight, how would you feel about getting some takeaway? We’ve had quite a day, something easy?” Miss Honey asks as Matilda settles into the old wooden armchair in the corner. Matilda nods. “What sort would you like?” Matilda shrugs. “What if we got a pizza?”

“Pizza?” Matilda asks. “They do takeaway?”

“Yes, they do,” Miss Honey chuckles. 

“I’ve only ever had it frozen and microwaved,” Matilda replies. 

“Frozen pizzas can be nice if they’re cooked properly, but I think you’ll much prefer a takeaway to that,” Miss Honey says. “What sorts of toppings do you like?”

“I don’t know,” Matilda says. “I’ve never had anything except pepperoni.” 

“We’ll stick with that for tonight, then,” Miss Honey says. She crouches down in the small kitchen area she has to work with. There isn’t much there. A single stovetop burner to cook on, plugged into the wall. A refrigerator about as tall as Matilda. Cabinets and cupboards, with hardly enough room for any cookware, let alone any food to keep. A few nuts and other snacks, maybe, but very little else. 

Miss Honey opens a drawer on the very bottom next to the cabinets on the far left. She has to root through it for quite a while. She clearly doesn’t order from this place very often. 

She stands up with a small grunt as she finds what she was looking for and heads to the phone on the wall. She reads the number for the local pizza place off the pamphlet in her hand and dials it in, each of the buttons making a satisfying little click sound as she presses them with her index finger. She rests the phone between her shoulder and her head, tipping it to the side so it’s secured in the crook of her neck and using her left hand to support it just a bit. 

Matilda listens as her lilting voice chats for a moment with the pizza parlor worker on the other end of the line. She orders their large pepperoni pizza and looks over her shoulder to ask Matilda if she’d like anything else. Matilda startles just a bit and shakes her head. Miss Honey nods and turns back around, giving her address and saying a polite goodbye before hanging up the phone. 

“Alright, our food should be here in about twenty minutes. Shall we get you settled in in the meantime or do you need a moment to just sit?” 

“Settled in?” Matilda questions. Miss Honey nods.

“Unpack your things, get them put where they go,” she explains. 

Matilda blinks, mulling it over. Her things have a place here. This isn’t just Miss Honey’s home anymore, it’s hers, too. She nods and hesitantly goes to fetch her bag. 

She unfolds the clothes first. Miss Honey fetches some spare hangers and hangs her dresses next to hers. She does it like a rainbow, in order of the colors. Matilda likes that. 

Miss Honey also clears out a drawer in her dresser and carefully sorts her own things into the others before she puts Matilda’s pants, shirts, and undergarments into the newly empty one. 

Books are next. Matilda takes the small stack and carefully adds them in amongst the alphabetically sorted ones on Miss Honey’s bookshelf. 

She isn’t quite sure what to do with the rest of her things. 

“Anything special to you or that you don’t want to be damaged can stay in your bag, if you like. But…” Miss Honey stands, stepping up onto the small platform that functions as her bedroom. Matilda follows, but stays on the floor. There isn’t room for both of them to stand in there. “I haven’t got anything in this corner here. That can be your little nook.” 

Matilda nods and smiles. She carefully tacks up her drawings and rests her toys on the ground in the corner. Her now-empty bag sits limply next to them, floppy without anything inside to hold it up. 

“These drawings are beautiful,” Miss Honey says, sitting on her neatly made bed to watch Matilda move around without being in the way. “I love the birds.”

“Thank you,” Matilda responds sheepishly. Miss Honey nods and gently reaches to ruffle her hair. Matilda flinches, and the hand pauses before gently resting on her shoulder instead. 

“Never,” Miss Honey explains with one single, soft word. Matilda nods and takes a deep breath. 

“Habit,” she says, doing the same. Miss Honey smiles sadly at her and finally gives her that ruffle. Matilda smiles back and tucks her hair behind her ears.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Matilda startles again. Miss Honey gives her a look to check she’s alright as she stands to answer it. Matilda finds herself cowering behind the curtains that separate Miss Honey’s bedroom from the rest of the house and listening as Miss Honey chats with the delivery person and pays for their food. 

Matilda pokes her head out when she hears Miss Honey say a thank you and a goodbye, and then a dull thump as the door shuts and the metallic scratching of the old lock sliding shut. 

Miss Honey beckons her over with a hand. Matilda smiles and sits across from her on the ground, the both of them on either side of the rickety wooden crate that functions as a coffee table. Miss Honey opens the pizza box and releases its divine aroma into the room. “Tuck in.” 

Matilda hesitates, looking up at her. Whenever there was a pizza night in her old house, she always had to wait. Her parents got first pick of the best slices. Sometimes she was lucky to get the crusts they leftover. They never ate them. Miss Honey nods, so Matilda takes the piece with the most pepperonis on it and rests it on her paper plate. Miss Honey selects her own piece, and they smile at each other as they lean in for their first bites at the same time. 

Matilda feels her eyes widen as the delicious greasy goodness hits her taste buds. “Wow.”

“Good?” Miss Honey chuckles. Matilda nods eagerly and digs in. “Slow down, darling, you’ll choke.” 

Matilda slows only slightly. She takes her time chewing before taking another bite, and another, and another. Before she knows it, her slice is gone. “Can… can I please have more?” 

“Of course, love, you expect me to eat this whole thing myself?!” Miss Honey chuckles, politely holding her bite in her cheek. Matilda giggles and helps herself to another slice. 

The conversation over dinner is surprisingly light given the events of the day. Matilda discusses what she’s been reading about in her latest library book. She finds herself almost staring at Miss Honey, frequently doing double takes. Nobody’s ever really listened before. Well, Mrs. Phelps does. But she’s read all the books before. 

“That sounds fascinating, I might have to read that one next,” Miss Honey says when Matilda concludes her explanation. 

“Really?” Matilda asks.

“Of course! You describe things so eloquently, Matilda. I think you could make the most boring subject sound absolutely enthralling.”

“I didn’t think teachers were bored by anything,” Matilda says, taking another bite. She’s starting to slow down as she gets full. She doesn’t think she’s ever experienced that before. 

“We pretend not to be. But we have our favorite subjects and our least favorites just like you,” Miss Honey says. 

“What’s your least favorite?” Matilda asks. 

“I’ve never been much good at social studies, to tell you the truth. Politics, geography. I quite like history, but I’m not very good at it,” Miss Honey says as if it’s a terrible secret. Matilda’s surprised. Her class is a bit young for politics and much real history, but their geography lessons were always thrilling. Matilda never thought maps of the real world could be so interesting. “What about you?”

“I… I don’t know,” Matilda says. “Every subject has… bits I like and bits I don’t, I suppose. I like maths because there’s all these rules and there aren’t many exceptions to those rules. So it all fits. And I quite like English because that’s when you get to read and write. And I like history and psychology and chemistry and biology, and…” 

“And?” Miss Honey asks kindly.

“I’m talking too much,” Matilda says apologetically.

“No you aren’t, firefly,” Miss Honey says. “It’s like getting to know you. I like hearing about what you’re interested in.”

“Firefly?” Matilda questions softly. 

Miss Honey’s eyes shift slightly in the direction of the little wood stove. It isn’t lit, since today is sunny and warm. She takes a breath before she asks, “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Matilda nods, her eyes wide and fascinated. 

“You see how small that stove is?” Matilda nods. “I can only make the smallest fires in there. Barely embers. But… they’re enough. They keep me warm. They get me through any storm, any frost, any winter. It’s a small fire, but… stubborn. And willful, and powerful. And it fills me and this house with such warmth.” 

She looks back at Matilda. 

“And that’s exactly what you do, little one. You’re young and you’re small, but you have a fire that nobody will ever be able to put out. Not even Aunt Trunchbull. And sometimes, before today, when I was afraid of what she might do, I would lie in bed, and I would look at that little stove. And I’d think of you. And even just that gave me hope. Enough hope that we’d make it out of that situation. I’d feel warm. And I knew that as long as you and your friends were around, I could do anything. You give me strength. You’re a little fire all your own.”

Matilda blinks at her. 

“But if you don’t like it I won’t call you that again,” Miss Honey adds hastily. 

Matilda shakes her head frantically and sniffles, trying to discreetly wipe some tears from her eyes. “No, no, please. I-I love it. I’ve never had a nickname before. Well. A nice one.” 

“Then you’ll be firefly,” Miss Honey says. “Are you finished eating?”

Matilda looks down at her plate. Half of her third slice is still there, cooling progressively as it sits, uneaten, on the grease-soaked paper plate. “I haven’t finished this.”

“If you don’t think you’ll eat it now we can save it. But I’m fine waiting if you’re not done,” Miss Honey says.

Matilda picks up the slice and takes another bite. In spite of how delicious it is, she’s had so much that it doesn’t taste so good anymore. She puts it back down. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Miss Honey asks in confusion, taking the leftovers to the kitchen and wrapping them up so they don’t spoil in the fridge.

“I didn’t clear my plate. I wasted food,” Matilda says, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. 

“We’ll eat it tomorrow, or some other time. You can’t help when you get full,” Miss Honey says like it’s absolutely nothing. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes, it was delicious. Thank you,” Matilda says.

“You’re very welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for everything, firefly,” Miss Honey replies, closing the door to the fridge and coming back to her. 

“Sorry.”

“And stop apologizing so much,” the woman chuckles, gently tapping the end of Matilda’s nose with her finger. 

“Sor… um.” 

Miss Honey laughs. Matilda finds herself giggling too. It’s much easier to laugh here than it was at her old house. It’s like some weight that used to live inside her stomach has lifted, and now all her organs and insides can move the way they’re meant to. Like she’s free. 

Miss Honey pulls down a board game for them to play to pass the time before bed. Matilda sufficiently trounces her at it a few times over. 

They take turns washing up in the small basin in the restroom, and brush their teeth side by side. They don’t really have room to, and giggle as their elbows keep gently bumping into each other and the walls. 

Miss Honey does a few things to her hair and dons her pajamas. Matilda realizes she doesn’t have any. She left all her old ones at home. She’d still had to wear them in spite of how uncomfortably tight and short they were on her. 

“Have you got pajamas, love?” Miss Honey calls from behind the curtain as she changes.

“No,” Matilda replies. Her outfit is comfortable enough to sleep in, she supposes. Miss Honey suddenly appears from behind the curtain once again with some fabric in her hands. 

Matilda gently takes it when she offers it. It’s one of Miss Honey’s nightgowns. Miss Honey says, “You can wear this for tonight. I’ll take you shopping as soon as possible for some necessities.”

“Thank you,” Matilda says. Miss Honey smiles and nods. Matilda takes her turn behind the curtain and pulls off her uniform. The temptation to tear it all to shreds now that the Trunchbull is gone is high. She hopes that Crunchem Hall is no more. So no more uniform. 

Instead, she carefully folds it and rests it on a rickety wooden chair. She pulls on the much too large nightgown. She’s so much smaller than Miss Honey that she puts her head through a sleeve first and has to figure out what went wrong. 

In spite of where it droops around her neck and drags a bit on the floor, it’s the comfiest thing Matilda’s ever worn. It smells just like Miss Honey. Like books and tea and flowers. And the fabric is so soft, it’s almost like wearing a cloud.

When she returns to the rest of the house, Miss Honey has made her a delightful little bed all her own out of various cushions, blankets, and other soft things she found around. “I hope this is alright for tonight. We’ll get something better for you when we go shopping.”

“It’s perfect,” Matilda says. Miss Honey smiles. 

Matilda crawls into her makeshift bed. Miss Honey comes and tucks her in tight. She gently kisses Matilda’s forehead and pulls the blankets up around her chin. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Matilda echoes. 

Miss Honey grabs a flashlight and a book from the shelf. She smiles and blows Matilda a kiss before tugging the curtains half-closed and going to bed herself. Matilda rolls away from the light and drifts off to a peaceful sleep.

—————

She’s woken a few hours later by a noise. Her eyes fly open and she sits up, ready to defend herself if need be. She pauses when it’s silent again. Did she imagine it? Surely not.

She listens intently. The house is nearly silent, except for the faint, distant ticking of Miss Honey’s alarm clock. The creaking of the old wood shifting as a light, peaceful breeze blows outside. The chirping of a few crickets Matilda can hear through the gap beneath the door. 

But then the noise happens again. Matilda stands and grabs another flashlight. 

It happens again. Matilda follows it… through the curtain. To Miss Honey’s room. 

She makes sure not to shine the light in her face. But it’s enough for Matilda to see her teacher lying stock-still, frozen, like she’s on the nasty end of a gun. Her muscles all tight and constricted. Her face wrought and pinched in worry. Her pajamas clinging to her skin, dampened with a cold sweat. 

The noises were whimpers.

She’s having a nightmare. 

Matilda isn’t sure what to do. She’s had plenty of nightmares herself, but she’s never seen a grownup have one. She thinks of what she always wanted most after a nightmare. 

A hug. 

She clicks the light back off and pads gently over to Miss Honey. She hesitates before she reaches out to touch her abdomen and gives her a gentle shake. “Miss Honey.” 

Miss Honey doesn’t wake, but she pauses, almost like she’s considering the presence of Matilda in her sleep. 

Matilda tries shaking her again. “Miss Honey.” 

Still nothing.

Matilda tries one more time. “Miss Honey.”

This time, Miss Honey’s eyes fly open and she sits bolt upright with a half-yelled, “No!”

Matilda steps back and looks at her. Miss Honey looks frantically around the room, and her eyes soften when she sees Matilda standing in the dark, partly illuminated by the moonlight streaming in the window behind her. 

“Oh, Matilda, it’s you,” she says, panting for a second to catch her breath. “What’s the matter?”

“You…” Matilda pauses. Maybe this is one of those times a white lie is preferable. “I had a bad dream.” 

“Oh,” Miss Honey says sadly. She reaches for her, and Matilda gently cuddles into her lap. 

“Can I stay with you?” Matilda asks softly. She asks for Miss Honey’s sake, but… it sounds really nice for her, too.

“Of course, love,” Miss Honey whispers. “One thing.”

Matilda is confused as the woman stands and pads off into the house. She returns quickly with something in her hand. 

Matilda recognizes the scarf as the beads on the end of the white fabric glint in the moonlight. Miss Honey gently drapes it around Matilda’s shoulders and shifts the covers back a bit so there’s room for both of them in the bed. Matilda nestles into place and turns to face her teacher.

Miss Honey climbs into the bed after her and tugs the blankets back over the both of them. Matilda thinks for a moment before she scoots herself a bit closer and rests one end of the scarf around her, too. 

She can see Miss Honey smile at her in the darkness. She gives a faint grin back. 

For the second time that night, they both drift off to sleep, feeling something neither of them have felt for a very long time. 

Safe.

—————

thanks for reading!! hope you enjoyed and that you have a wonderful day!!

lots of love,

ezzy 

[writemekpop]

Runaway | Huang Renjun

Summary: As a princess, you’re expected to marry a prince. But what happens when you fall in love with the gardener’s son, Renjun?

Genre: Royalty AU

Word Count: 1.3k

“I do not understand why you refuse to meet with these noble young gentlemen. It is imperative you be wed this season,” your mother sighed, removing the family jewels from your neck.

“We had to send the last one home after he waited hours to see you. Poor creature," she said.

The idea of marrying one of those stuck-up idiots made you sick. But you kept your mouth shut. 

Your mother tutted. “Is it because you are afraid that these men will not like you? Nonsense!” 

Suddenly, your mother called to the door, “You! I can hear you loitering out there, come in!” 

Renjun, the handsome gardener’s son, peeked out from the door. Tulip petals poked out of his tousled brown hair. Despite the hard work he did, his skin was soft and free from cuts. 

“If you were a suitor, what would you think of my daughter, boy?”

His smile was polite, but his eyes pierced yours. Your heart was racing now. “She’s… beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Quite too beautiful for me, my lady.” 

You could feel your cheeks burning, and hoped she couldn’t see. 

“Well that’s obvious,” your mother snapped. She flounced to the door. “Well, there’s the apology letters to write. That Mr Jung must be devastated…”

As soon as she was gone, you strode up to Renjun, pulled his shirt towards you and kissed him on the mouth. He kissed you back, gently, the way he always did. 

Today, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. Your hands slid up his waist and brushed his chest, feeling the hot, firm skin so close under the thin layer of fabric. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, making him moan. 

He quickly pulled away, frowning, breathless, his face flushed. “What are you doing?” 

“Renjun, I want you. We’ve been together three years, what are we waiting for?” You attached your lips to his neck, sucking desperately at the smooth skin. 

Renjun pushed you off again, just as gently. “We promised, Y/n. When we make love for the first time… I want to be your husband.” 

You’d never understood his need for marriage, but you loved watching his eyes light up at the word so much that you couldn’t refuse. 

“How is that gonna happen? My parents will never accept you!” you groaned. 

Renjun bit his plump lip. His chocolate eyes were totally liquid, vulnerable. “Well, I didn’t want to say this before, because I know how close you are to your family, but… what if we eloped? Got married in secret, ran away together?” 

Your heart was bouncing wildly around your chest. 

His eyes never leaving yours, Renjun got down on one knee. From his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled red rose. His eyes shimmered with tears. “Y/n L/n, Will you marry me?” 

You knew your answer. You’d known it ever since he first shyly came to your bedroom door with a roughly cut bunch of pink peonies, for beauty. 

“Yes!” 

He stood up, his face barely containing his smile, and slid the rose into your cascading hair. You jumped up and hugged him, and he spun you around, his laughter vibrating in your hair. 

“Meet me in the official gardens, at midnight. Pack a bag - but keep it light,” he whispered. He left a kiss on the shell of your ear, making you shiver with delight. 

You nodded eagerly. Finally, your life with the perfect man was about to begin.

You just had to get through this one night without getting caught. 

--- 

The moon was bright tonight, bathing the gardens in silvery light. You wound through the tightly clipped green hedges and flower patches, carrying a big duffel bag with a few clothes and all your cash. 

Finally… you spotted Renjun. You gasped. 

Somehow, he’d found a massively oversized black suit jacket. He’d spruced it up with his personal touch - a white rose in his buttonhole. But what made him breathtakingly handsome was not his clothes, but the love filling his gaze. 

“Come here! This was all I could find”, Renjun whispered. 

He carefully draped a ragged white veil over your head. Standing back, he nodded. “Perfect. The vicar agreed to do our vows. I made him the perfect bouquet once, that helped him find love. It’s his turn to return the favour.” 

He clasped both your hands in his. You couldn’t believe it. You’d spent years dreaming of having Renjun all to yourself, never having to sneak around, being able to show him off proudly on your arm. Finally, your dreams were coming true. 

The vicar said, “Do you, Y/n L/n, take Huang Renjun to have and to hold, in sickness and in health…” 

The vows were perfect, of course. Everything Renjun did was perfect. 

Once you’d worn the rings - ones you’d stolen from your parents’ jewellery box – Renjun smiled. 

Only this time, there was a distinct naughtiness in his little smirk. 

Holding your hand, he guided you over to a small, shaded area of the garden. You realised it was blanketed in hundreds of red rose petals. 

“You did this for me?” you said, unable to believe the amount of effort Renjun had gone to for you. 

He nodded. “I’m probably in massive trouble from the head gardener, but who cares?” 

You giggled. “Who is this sexy daredevil? Not the RenjunI know!” 

He toyed with a piece of your hair. “It’s not a four poster bed, but… will it do?” 

You nodded. Now it was your turn to say, “It’s perfect.”

---

The night wind was chilly, but you barely noticed. Because you were lying on top of Renjun, your body pressed tight against his.  You were kissing him, hard. Your core throbbed with anticipation as his hands slid under your cotton blouse and caressed the bare skin of your back. 

Smiling, you sat up and started unbuttoning your shirt. When you pulled it off, and your lacy white bra too, you noticed something. You giggled. 

Renjun was looking away, a feverish red blush spreading like a stain over his cheeks and nose. 

“You can look, you know! That’s the whole point…” you teased. 

Finally, Renjun mustered the courage to look at you, and you saw his eyes glimmer with attraction. 

“Well… do you like what you see?” you asked, suddenly shy as you realised this was your first time being naked in front of him. 

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. 

Then, his voice low and thick, he murmured, “I’m speechless.” 

Suddenly, you heard footsteps crashing through the garden, and your mother and father’s voices calling, “Y/n! Are you out here? Y/n!”

You pulled on your shirt as Renjun scrambled to get the bags. Each of you using one hand to hold a bag and other to hold hands, you ran through the garden, towards the front gate of the house. 

Your heart felt like it would explode through your ribcage. You couldn’t get caught. Not now, not when you were so, so close to getting out! 

Finally, you reached the gate of the house. Your parents’ voices were distant now. Once you left that gate, you would be in the big wide world together. 

You thought Renjun would start unlocking the door, but he was absolutely still, just staring at you. 

“What’s wrong? We need to get going before they realise where we are!” you whispered. 

Renjun reached out. He adjusted the rose, which had been dangling in your hair, so it was safely tucked behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful… I couldn’t leave without fixing that.”

You smiled from your very soul. “Alright, lover boy,” you teased. “We need to get going!” 

Renjun started, as if shaken from a dream. “Right! Off we go!” 

You laughed. The astounding strength of Renjun’s love for you would never stop surprising you. He would pluck a rose off every rosebush in the world for you. 

And now you were going to take on the world, together.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[svtminghaolove]

First time you realized you are in love with him - Vocal unit (SVT)

Helloooo, I don’t have that much to say but hop you have a great day! Or night, depending on when you’re reading this I guess (:

Triggers: Maybe a swear word?

Jeonghan: It was in the most casual way.

You two were at your place, had been there the whole day, and it was getting late while the two of you were watching a movie. The two of you were lying down, Jeonghan on top of you with his cheek pressed against your chest. The last few minutes you had noticed his breathing getting heavier, and his body more relaxed. You wanted to let him sleep but he had said that he needed to go to the dorms today since they were filming in the morning.

"Jeonghan…", you whispered and he stirred a bit. "Jeonghan, it's getting late, maybe you should start waking up?"

"… three more minutes", he mumbled and your heart melted. You knew that he had a hard time sleeping with other people, due to being a light sleeper, and that he could sleep with you somehow warmed your heart. You were really falling for this guy.

"Sure… three more minutes"

Joshua: Just like Joshua, you knew that you had always loved him, he was one of your best friends and closest allies. But admitting that you loved him as anything more as a friend took a while longer.

You realized it pretty early after the two of you met again. Because it was like, when he came back into your life, a piece that you hadn't known you'd been missing was returned to you. At first you just thought that it was the return of a friend, but soon realized that you heart didn't ache when you saw a friend hugging another girl, or felt empty when they didn't answer a text quickly enough.

So then you sat down for a while, staring into the wall in front of you when it clicked.

"Mom…!", you yelled out, running down the stairs.

"Yes, dear?", she said and turned around to look at you form her position at the couch.

"I think I'm in love with Joshua!", your mom scoffed.

"Is that suppose to be news?"

"Mom!"

Woozi: It was a beautiful day, that suddenly got very wet.

"Damn, that came out of nowhere", you laughed and Jihoon nodded as you took shelter under some roof.

"Well, looks like it will take a while for it to clear up", you continued and looked around.

"Yeah… stay here for a while", he pulled up his hood and took off running.

"Wooz-..!", you slapped a hand over your mouth, realizing that maybe you shouldn't go around yelling your idol boyfriends name. But you did as he told you to, and waited for him to come back.

"They only hade one umbrella left", he said and offered a hand to you. Your heart skipped a beat as you stood under the umbrella with him.

"You're all wet…", you mumbled, wiping his face with the arm of your shirt.

"It's fine, it's just water", he stated and softly pushed away your hand. "Come on, we don't want you to get sick.", you shook your head but your heart felt like it was ready to jump out of your chest.

Damn, you had it so bad for this man.

Dokyeom: Well… lets' just say it was a bit chaotic.

"Damn you Seokmin!", you hissed as he stood over you, laughing.

"Come on, you can do it. One more"

"You said that the past four times, take this damn weight off me!", you whined as he helped you place the bar on the rack. You had done the mistake of agreeing to go to the gym with him, and in this moment you had never hated yourself more.

"Good job, now on to the dumbbells", you stared at him, still lying down after doing the bench-press. You were drenched in sweat, while he looked like he had gone out for a walk at most.

"I hate you", you groaned and a soft smack from the water bottle in return.

"You love me, now get up", he teased and you sighed and sat up. Only one thought went through your head as you picked up the dumbbells: You must be in love with him for you to be doing this with him.

Seungkwan: It was during a period when Seungkwan was busy all the time.

Seungkwan was working basically days and night, going away for promotion, interviews, recordings and so much more. His schedule was filled from the second he woke up, to the last hour he spent awake. That also meant that you guys hadn't seen each other for a while, but he always made sure to call you before you went to bed.

"You don't have to call me everyday Boo, I know you're busy", you said as you climbed under the covers.

"Would you rather I didn't?", he asked, you hearing the sound of paper turning as he worked.

"… no", you admitted and he laughed.

"Tell me about your day", you simply continued and he started to talk.

Even though he barely had enough time to sleep during the day, he always called you. No matter if he was at a dinner or at the hotel, he made sure that you knew that you were a priority in his life. And that made you realize that you were so in love with this boy that your heart almost hurt.

"y/n? Still awake?"

"Mhm… please, continue."

-----

Masterlist

[rivangel]

//graphic death, blood

Levi is in his sights—rather his form, so small and crumpled in the bloody mud like a kicked dog. Harder and quicker, Erwin bears down on his horse, and rides faster than he ever has in his life.

Every other squad has gathered to regroup miles away. When all Eld had to tell Erwin was that Levi volunteered to exterminate the last of the Titans in the area, Erwin wasn't worried. He has always had faith in Levi to do his duty, and he was strong. Unfaltering, superior, ironclad.

But then, the pain. The poisonous tendrils feel as unreal as they very well are, felt seemingly under several layers of skin. If he peeled his shirt up or felt the back of his head, Erwin knows there would be no open wound; if he attempted to walk, it would be effortless despite the pain screeching down the nerves in his leg, because pains of this nature have always been Levi's. They have shared pain and pleasure alike for a long time.

The once-beautiful meadow is a trampled, muddy battlefield. Grasses crushed, steam still lifting off the nodding flowers. Whatever happened here, every Titan is indeed gone.

Erwin comes up on Levi's mangled form fast, and leaps off his horse with no preamble. There is nothing else left in the world except for this.

He collapses to his knees beside him, and calls his name for the nth time—many enough for the two syllables of his name to have lost meaning.

He is in pain, so he must be alive. His hand hovers over Levi's still back while Erwin thinks fast of how to go about this. Whatever he chooses, he must not injury Levi further.

His wings—his cape—lays halfway off one shoulder. Blood oiling his hair creates a red night. Crumpled on his side. Shoulders rise and fall with his stiff breaths, but. So much blood—beyond his hair, soaked into his side and his muddy pants. He undoubetedly sustained a concussion... and... who knows.

"Levi. I used a flare. Medics will be here soon," he says in a flurry, and Erwin realizes he's debriefing him. He doesn't know how to approach this—he has never seen Levi like this.

Erwin cringes as pain lambasts him and speaks Levi's name like a demand once again. "Levi, Captain Levi, wake up and look at me—that's an order."

Levi groans thickly as arms maneuver him onto his back, not allowing him to lie flat, but to quiver in his arms. An enormous sigh of relief leaves him, only for him to suck in a swift, frightened breath. His silver eyes are open, but instead of that silver, all Erwin sees is the whites, the irises rolled back. His skin is pallid and clammy, like a sick man. A stream of aged, thick blood follows down from his nostrils, caking his untidy cravat.

Breaths leave Levi in thick rattles. "Erv'...'vin? You're here."

"Yes. That's it, that's it." Erwin makes a meager attempt to straighten it—he doesn't know why, but that that's what Levi would want—and scoops up the back of his head, cringing at the wet feeling. He's gentle. Gentle as he brings Levi's muddy hand to his side. "I'm here. Use pressure."

"Fuck."

They feel the blunt agony at the same time, but Levi of course suffers the most. His thick rasps dissolve into the weakest coughing despite what Levi appears to be choking on. That something soon spatters Erwin's face and oozes from the sides of Levi's cracked lips.

God, it’s Levi’s blood.

"Sorry. I failed."

"You did not. That's the furthest thing from my mind," Erwin breathes. He runs his fingers through his damp bangs, brushing them off his forehead. He whispers, "I order you to look at me. Don't fall asleep. Help will be here soon. Love, do you understand?"

One thing they have always each agreed on was keeping their relationship inside the Walls. It has no place in battle. In the horrors beyond the Walls. But.

Levi whimpers as his glazed eyes crack open again. "Tired."

He doesn't look, or sound like Levi, Erwin realizes. Let it be possible he somehow mixed this fallen soldier up with Levi. This is a dream. Dreams don't make sense.

Erwin's abdomen is wet with blood. The blossoming red is growing, and Levi is fading. He feels his strength seeping away as it happens. Erwin feels it in his own bones.

Levi is dying, Erwin realizes, his stomach plummeting. In his arms. My Levi.

"You can sleep in the injured wagon, so you must hold on a while longer. This is nothing but a setback. I could not, be happier with what you've done here." He whispers these brittle reassurances through the echoes of Levi's pain.

Levi utters a low moan of pain. "Talkin' like. I'm."

Erwin keels over, carding his bangs back rapidly. He cradles him in his arms, holding on while he loses him more and more. "I am not. I simply, could not have more love for you. Levi." He touches his pasty cheek.

And more and more. "Levi?" Wet sobs increasingly infect Erwin's voice. He brings their joined hands over Levi's heart and strokes, as if that will help.

"Stupid Blondie..." He coughs. "Blondie boy."

"Ha... Yes, that's me, my love. I'm... I'm right here with you."

Levi's eyes flutter. "Tired." They seem heavier than steel. "Erwin," he says, quiet, broken and so meek.

Bluish-silver fogs, and dulls as the light behind them turns vacant. His eyes are opened into slits, but they don't see—they will never see again. His lips parted open, but will never again speak. The full weight of Levi's head sags down on his palm.

A random sob shoots up in Erwin's chest. An agonized shout is torn out. Pain of loss, a loss like this, goes beyond description. It's impossible to name and define. It is like being possessed by demons, torn by the gnashing of teeth. For seconds on end, the sensation of ripping and tearing is Erwin's entire life.

Wet tears bleed against Levi's neck. He is still here, but he is no longer present. When he calls his name, there will never be an answer. His demure and disgruntled remarks and teases and the way his eyes light up, and hover shut in passion, and quirk when he's suspicious, all these moments and times over days, hours spent, in years.

No longer.

🏷️:  @sparkywrites25 | @mrsackermannx | @youre-ackermine @lovolee3 | @spouse-of-the-rulers-of-hell + link to be added

[ninapi]

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Save me (Ushijima Version)

Premise: Ushijima struggles to understand the concept of love and what is expected of him in said equation, but he finds himself in the predicament of wanting nothing more than to be with the woman he loves even if it gets in the way of his established lifestyle.

Word Count: 3275

Chapter 3: Confessions

The day was finally here, the finals for the spring tournament, all the hard work they put into training must give results today.

Normally in these circumstances, Ushijima would be arguably the most excited of all, even if it was hard to tell, his team just knew he was, but today was different, his friend Tendo was the first to notice said change. At first, he thought he could be just nervous, but did he even know what being nervous felt like? It is a fact that he’s been meddling with the concept of feelings and how to express them properly, but somehow that didn’t seem accurate, it would be very unlike him to be nervous before a match.

“Nervous, captain?” wiggling his eyebrows in an oddly suggestive way, he sat beside his friend on the locker room’s bench, the rest of the team getting ready on a separate area of the room. “Absolutely not.” it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t expecting that answer, but what else could this be about?

“Is it about, (Y/N)? I saw her outside. Must be great having the girl you like cheer for you from the bleachers.” to this he just nodded, fully agreeing with his friend, taking him by surprise with his honest response. “Then what’s with the long face?”

“The guy she was looking for the day we met her. Is here today.” was he jealous? Worried? “Oh yeah, I thought his name sounded familiar. So, the setter from the other team, huh. Please don’t tell me you think (Y/N) is here just because of him. She’s wearing a t-shirt with your name on it.” that statement caused the corner of his lips to turn upward just a bit, you really were adorable, so that’s what you needed permanent markers for, the other day…”WOWEY! Did you just smile? OH god, is it the end of the world? So this is how I die, huh? I was not prepared to die today, who would have thought I’d die a virgin.”

A very disinterested Ushijima just got up and started pacing between his locker door and the bench, he felt the need to run at least a couple of miles to clear his head, he was starting to worry his state of mind would be a problem during the game. “Ok, ok I’m listening for real this time, what’s bothering you? The setter’s here, so what?”

“I don’t know. She was so happy when I told her he would be here.” the face you made still hunts him, your smile was the brightest he’s ever seen it and your eyes immediately filled in with tears, it was clear as day to him that you were ecstatic with the news, so why was he feeling so uneasy? He started feeling some sort of disgust towards himself, why would he be upset about you being happy? Was he turning into a crappy human being? He always thought very high of his own set of values, it was certainly disappointing.

“So, let me get this straight. You are afraid her seeing him will rekindle an old spark and the young setter would steal her away from you, the almighty and popular star from the national team.” Ushijima just plopped on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. “So that’s what this is about. I see.”

“You are telling me you were this upset and didn’t know what was going on?” Tendo just wanted to laugh at the entire situation, but his teammate looked so bad, he needed to lift the spirits up if they wanted to win today.

“Just wait here.” he knew what he needed to do to fix the apocalyptic mess inside Ushijima’s head, so he went back outside, hollering over to you, “(Y/N), can you please borrow us your beautiful face? We have a little bit of a chaotic emergency in the locker room." You knew it had to do with the man that invades your dreams constantly, otherwise you wouldn’t be needed.

“What is it, Tendo-san? Is he ok?” the teasing smile on Tendo’s face was enough to let your heart calm down, “Oh young love, always so predictable. Yes, he’s fine, but seeing your delightful face might cheer him up.” Without thinking about it much, you got up, leaving your bag behind to save your spot at the front.

Ushijima was still on the same bench, same position he was on before Tendo left, the dead look in his eyes was a cause for concern, so he closed the door behind him to give you two some privacy, guarding it from the outside like a trained police dog.

“Toshi? What happened? Are you ok?” crouching down in front of him, you cupped his cheek with your hand, making him look at you. He looked so broken, what could have happened in a matter of hours? He was fine the last time you saw him.

“My chest feels tight, it’s hard to breathe.” panic was surging through your veins, was he having some type of medical emergency? He would never admit anything is off with him, this had to be serious.

Your hand was now on his chest, checking for any potential injury, “Where does it hurt exactly, here?” the soft pressing of your hand against his ribcage made him come back from his delirious state, he made you worry once more, is not like he’s sick, he knows that now, it’s all in his head. “I’m ok, (Y/N). Don’t worry.”  He was expecting you to go back outside so he would be able to collect his thoughts once more, but you buried your face on his chest instead. Originally you just wanted to hear his heartbeat and make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary to worry about, but he was so warm and comfortable, you just stayed there.

“You know you can talk to me about whatever it is that’s bothering you, right? I would never judge you, no matter what it is.” his large hand was suddenly on the back of your head, like if his body didn’t want you leaving your current spot any time soon. “I know.”

“So, what is it?” one of your tiny hands was rubbing circles onto his side on a soothing manner, trying to coax him into talking his heart out at once. “Did you see that Kageyama guy yet?” random much, but you followed him into the conversation, if that’s what he wanted to talk about then so be it. “Not yet. I wonder how he’s been. I haven’t seen him in over a year now.”

“Were you two close?” it was now clear to you that was in fact what he wanted to talk about, this new piece of information puzzling you a bit, why was he so sad and lost over Kageyama? Was he scared of losing the match? That couldn’t be it. “He was there for me when I was very scared and lost before. He helped me get by when I didn’t have anyone else to lean on. You could say we were close, but he is a bit of a clutz you see, he probably would give you a very different answer.” your smile was distant, a bit sour even. He didn’t like this type of smile on your face, your smile is one of the things he loves the most about you, if this Kageyama guy made you smile like this, he was definitely a threat.

“Were you two…romantically involved?” you looked up at him from his chest, his lips were shaking, a burning scowl pressing his eyebrows for the worse, “Hmmmm….I don’t think so. He protected me from my ex-boyfriend, we were in an intense toxic relationship, and I was very much lost back then, you could say he was my rock, the reason I didn’t really break completely, someone I trusted and felt safe with. But we didn’t go beyond that, at least not physically.” You’ve never had to explain your relationship with Tobio before, there was much more to this than what you were telling Ushijima, but this was not the time or place to discuss this, he had a game to win.

He just looked down at you, he wanted to see into your head and play your memories like a movie just so he could understand you better. He understands Kageyama is important to you and wants to respect it, but this tightness he is feeling in his chest is very debilitating. Was this fear? Is that what he was experiencing just now? The fear of losing you to your past, fear of never seeing you smile for him like you do normally. Fear of the look of happiness in your eyes being directed towards someone else.

“Do I make you feel safe?” nodding you just smiled at him tenderly in understanding, “Do you trust me?” he did just the same, “Then that’s all it matters.” returning you back to his chest for a few more minutes, the sense of duty was coming back to Ushijima, he needed to focus in today’s game, with that out of the way he felt like he can do it just fine.

“Just move, will you? We need to get changed too, it’s time to warm up.” that grumpy voice, you could recognize it anywhere.

Kageyama burst the door to the locker room open, stomping his way in, when a very familiar scrunched up face and puff of hair caught his eye by the bench, “(Y-Y/N) is that you?” peeking from one of Ushijima’s armpits, you squealed. “Tobio!!! Why did you go to Karasuno! I waited for you for an entire day outside different school venues thinking you had come to Shiratorizawa like you said you would!”

“I ugh sorry(?)…I...didn’t get in…” his mumbling was almost a whisper, but you heard it. So, he did try to come, just couldn’t. Knowing that made your heart feel so light for an inexplicable reason, making you chuckle. “I thought you forgot about me, or that I just didn’t matter anymore.” Kageyama shook his head, he wanted to tell you way too many things, he wanted to reassure you, wanted to tell you how much he’d missed you, your smile, your warmth, how he would still think about you every single day since you left his side, but the scowl Ushijima was giving him suggested otherwise. “(Y/N), Oikawa, he is in the crowd. Will it be safe for you to be here? Shouldn’t you leave before he sees you?” your body started shaking, instinctively Ushijima’s grip around you intensified, a reminder that you didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

“I’ll be fine. I’m safe now. Thank you for telling me, though. I’ll be mentally ready, just in case.” snuggling into his embrace, you smiled at your childhood friend, an immense amount of pride blooming in Ushijima’s chest.

“Got it, let’s talk some more later. My team will freak out if they see me talking with a girl.” That made you laugh, waiving him goodbye, it seemed he was getting along with his new team just fine, such a relief, it was what you feared the most, that he would be left alone with no one by his side to pick him up the way you used to. “I better go now, Toshi. A bunch of naked guys will be filling this room pretty soon and I already had way too much excitement for one day.” giggling as you got up, you waited for a second too long right in front of his face, both of you entranced by one another, that’s when you leaned in to press a soft loving kiss on his cheek. “Go do your thing.”

He's had his cheeks kissed before, by his mother, his grandma, the neighbor when he was a child. Why did it feel so different this time.

Your lips were so soft, so warm. It felt like if your souls were dancing together in a different reality. And maybe they were, it was all too surreal, and just what he needed to go out there and represent his team like the captain he is.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

It was an amazing match, both teams gave their best and even if you should be sad because your team lost, seeing Tobio thrive in his element filled you with pride. He’s always been a fantastic setter, but it warmed your senses seeing how well he was getting along with his team now, to others he might still look indifferent and annoyed by everything, but you could feel his happiness from where you were sitting, having teammates that appreciate you and trust you fully can do wonders to someone even if they are as headstrong as Tobio is.

It made you happy see them cheer and some even cry, it was definitely a good day for Karasuno.

But not so much for your beloved team.

You waited for the boys to get changed to head outside together, not even seeing Oikawa in the bleachers would stop you from being there to support your boys.

You’re sure he saw you too, thankfully seemed like he didn’t care much, his mood as sour as it could be, he already had too many things in his head to act, otherwise this day would have been a bit too much for just one person to take in.

Karasuno came out first, you knew he didn’t want to be seen with you, but you wanted to congratulate him on his win, you still think fondly of him and wish to keep him in your life if possible. “Tobio!” jogging over to him he gave you a little wave, “You were great today, you’ve seriously gotten better. I’m impressed!” the tips of his ears were burning red, so much so his team started chuckling and throwing playful insults to annoy him, he really belongs with them, it was endearing. “I’ve always been this good. I just have a better team now.” this bit of sincerity made his teammates stop laughing and even made one tear up slightly feeling proud of how far he’s come.

“True, you’ve always been amazing, I’m glad you finally found a good match for your skill set. Hey, can I maybe have your number? I…I’ve missed you…”

Kageyama hadn’t feel this way in a long time. He remembered you always made him feel flustered and frustrated at himself at the same time, in honest truth, he’d missed you too. The only reason he ever had to go into Shiratorizawa was his grandpa, but when you said you’d be there too, he studied really hard, and it was utterly devastating to him not getting in, for more than one obvious reason. You were the only one to ever see him for what he truly was, and he missed your company, just having you beside him stealing some of his milk made his days bearable.

 “You sure your scary boyfriend won’t get offended by this, like the last one? You seriously have bad taste in men, (Y/N).” this made you laugh, “Yeah, that’s why I like you. Now gimme your phone. And he isn’t my boyfriend by the way, not yet at least. He reminded me of you, people don’t see him for what he really is, he’s the kindest soul I’ve ever met, not scary in the slightest unless, well, you’re playing against him.” shrugging, you sent yourself a text from his phone and handed it back to him as soon as you saw your boys at the entrance of the gym. “Let’s hang out when you have time!” the quick gentle hug you gave him left the setter begging his lungs for air, you always had your way with him, it was infuriating.

“Wow Bakayama, a girl really hugged you just now.” Hinata was dumbfounded, the same look on his face was now in Kageyama’s, still being able to feel your warmth through his jersey.

“And a gorgeous one at that.” Suga was now teasing the mumbling mess of a man, trying to get more information out of the youngster.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Tendo saw you approaching and moved out of the way to give you some space. He knew his captain was upset, and he imagines it felt even worse knowing you were actually watching them play. You threw an appreciative smile towards him before taking a hold of Ushijima’s hand, pulling on it gently guiding him towards a sitting area.

“Toshi you were fantastic today! The way you kept on spiking the ball like if it was nothing! It was unbelievable, had me squealing till the very end.” your voice did sound a little rough, and he heard you more than once cheering for him, it made his resolution grow each time. “Could have been better. We lost.” his expression was as stoic as ever, but you felt his grip on your hand tighten the slightest bit. “You can’t always win. In my eyes you did, I’m proud of you, you did a wonderful job today.”

If science could explain the way he felt in this specific moment in life, with you by his side, rubbing circles onto his calloused hand after his first big loss, the breeze making the trees sing, the amount of love coating your supportive encouragement words, it would probably be comparable with the destructive power of an atomic bomb. Or so he thinks by the way all his organs are exhausted and overstimulated by the entirety of the situation. “(Y/N) I think I might be romantically infatuated with you.”

This made you look up at his face, startled. You were definitely feeling the same as he was, maybe even more, but you never expected to hear this from him, not this soon anyways. “What makes you think that Toshi?”

There was a light rumble coming from his chest, you could physically feel how he was trying his best to hold back. “I feel too much when you’re around. I think this is what infatuation feels like.” there was no way in this universe you could contain the smile that was threatening to come out. He was being honest as usual and you could see how much he was struggling to let you know of his thoughts and feelings and you wanted him to know that you appreciated his sincerity, but you were over the moon hearing he reciprocated your very own feelings. “Yeah, this is what it feels like, you're right.” you got up from your spot beside him, leaning over to press a soft peck on his lips.

His eyes widened, not at all expecting this outcome, but finding it interesting and alluring either way. “Does this mean you are also romantically infatuated with me?” chuckling, you stole a tiny kiss more from his lips before stretching, taking a deep breath. “I would say so, yeah, pretty positive I am. How does that make you feel?” pondering your question, his body, the only one that seemed to understand what was expected of him, wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face on your shoulder. “Same here Toshi. Same here.”

You stayed there for a while, your fingers threading through his hair, giving him the time he needed to comprehend what was going on fully. Was it ok for him to be this happy when they just lost the most important match of the season? He knew the rest were as dishearten as he was just a few minutes ago, was it even fair for him to be there enjoying life and experiencing love for the first time in his eighteen years of life when the rest of the team was feeling miserable? But the sound of your heartbeat was distracting, soothing his flooding thoughts. All he wanted was to be in the moment, to feel you, and so did you.

Loosing the game, seeing Tobio after such a long time, seeing Oikawa out and about, so many different and conflictive emotions, but this one was without a doubt the highlight of the day making the rest perish in comparison.

Accepting his feelings and embracing them, Ushijima decided right in that moment that he would do whatever it was needed to never see you leave his side.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Tagged babes: @dazaisfavgf @lauraagrace, @san-emi

Previous Chapter Masterlist

[sailorshadzter]

Her rooms are warm, full of blazing firelight, but she shivers as if she stands in those cold woods again. 

Draping her cloak across the back of a chair, she sinks into another, this one set just before the hearth, left there that very morning. It’s been a long day and she thinks she might do little else than drain a goblet of wine and go to bed, but there is something that compels her to remain where she sits, even just a little while longer.  

And that is where she sits when the knock comes- the door opens a moment later, no hesitation, not even a pause to see if she might deny their entry. But he knows as well as she does that, she would never deny him. Not ever. “You left so suddenly,” he says, drunk, but stable on his feet as he approaches where she sits. He’s in nothing but breeches and his wrinkled white shirt, his doublet discarded, his furs left behind; truth was, she loves him in this disarray. “I was worried.” She smiles, rising up to her feet so she might stand just before him, but an arm’s length of space between them.  

“I was tired,” she says, not quite a lie, though even in his drunken state he sees right through her, for there she stands still yet fully dressed, hair in pins. “I worry for your state tomorrow,” she teases, and he laughs, shaking his head as she offers him the other chair in the room, which he drags closer to where hers sits before the fire. “You have had too much to drink, Jon,” she admonishes as they both settle into their chairs, though she supposes she cannot fault him for it. After all that has happened, after all that they’ve been through, it is the least he can do for himself.  

Drunk or not, he knows what rests on his heart; the truth.  

“Sansa...” Her name is sweet as sin on his lips and he lets out the breath he’s been holding, eyes sweeping her up and down before he can find the words to say to her. “You’re right,” he admits, not the truth he’s been holding onto, but it’s the truth all the same. They sit there in silence, Stark gray eyes meeting Tully blue, and as always, he’s awestruck by her- by her beauty, by her strength, by everything about her. “I have something to tell you,” he goes on, knowing that he must plunge on, he must tell her everything, he must tell her what he’s known these last few days.  

“Then tell me,” she murmurs, hand reaching out to take hold of his; her touch is warm and encouraging.  

“It’s about my father...” Jon gulps, thinking for a single instant of the man he always called father. “And my mother,” he thinks then of the woman he only knows through stories, a woman who everyone says Arya is just like, a piece of information that somehow makes this so much easier. “My mother was... Lyanna Stark. Your aunt, Lyanna.” He says it before he can stop himself and though she does not withdraw her hand, she does sit up just a little bit straighter. “And my father...” Jon closes his eyes and it is only with her soft squeeze to his hand that he opens them and says the name he’s only said aloud once since he found out. “Rhaegar Targaryen.”  

For a single moment, it is as if the world has stopped spinning around her. 

But then, it’s back to full force and she must steady herself. “Then that means...” She understands at once what this means for the realm... What this means for them. “You are the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms,” she whispers and Jon nods, solemn as always, his hand still linked with hers. “Does she know?” She asks next and again, Jon nods. “And she’s not burned us all, I am surprised.” Jon can’t help but to crack a smile at her words, but he knows the threat of Daenerys Targaryen is as real as any of the others. “What will we do?”  

Jon sobers, tilting his head. “We?”  

“Of course, stupid,” she giggles, leaning back in her chair, only now allowing her hand to slip from his. “The North will back your claim, you know. I might like to go to war for you, as you did for me.” Jon can imagine her now, with war braids twisted in her vibrant red hair, with an army of Northern men at her beck and call. He can imagine her as she was, the Red Wolf of Winterfell, the Queen that Never Bent.  

“I would hope it wouldn’t come to war,” he says, to which she rolls her eyes, shaking her head.  

“There will be a war, knowing her,” she’s thinking of the pale faced Targaryen queen, or so-called queen, she supposes. “But it will be ours to win.” She thinks of the future, one without golden lions or fiery dragons, one where it was only the wolves left. Jon’s gaze holds fast to hers and for a moment, time is suspended, and it is his hand that reaches for hers now. Sitting there in her beautiful scaled gown, bathed in firelight, he knows he loves her as he’s never loved anyone in all of his life before. “Jon...” His name is soft on her smiling lips and it’s all he can do to keep himself from leaning in and capturing her mouth with his own.  

But he was drunk and this moment wasn’t meant to be, not yet. 

And so, he rises up, but her hand does not fall freely from his grip- rather she too rises up, following after him to her door. “Get some rest,” he says softly, drawing her hand up to his lips all so he might press the softest of kisses to her knuckles. “I will see you in the morning.” She nods, hoping her face does not betray the wave of emotions rushing through her as he slips by, turning back to offer her one last glance before he’s gone into the darkness of the corridor.  

When her door falls closed, she sinks against it, absently running her thumb over the back of her hand where he’d kissed her, skin warm and her heart skipping a beat. Even when she climbs into her bed a short while later, she can feel the tingle of his lips against her skin and she smiles as she closes her eyes, knowing that tomorrow, certainly everything would change. 

War or not, everything would change for the better. 

[alumort]

ao3

for a friend

She had a secret nobody but her small notebook knew– the same one in which she wrote everything Gai taught her when he had energy, even if it didn't happen much.

Neji would just get weird with her, and she wasn't close enough with Tenten to say anything. Her heart ached in pain whenever they referred to her with the wrong pronouns and name– that's why she liked being called by her surname alone, at least until she found a name to use and be comfortable with.

Lee… didn't really have any 'feminine' clothes of her own. A couple of shirts, pants and the same jumpsuit her mentor used, and that was it. People would ask if she went to buy anything deemed 'wrong' for her to wear, and so she didn't even try coming up with an excuse. Yet every single time she passed near a shop with pretty dresses, she couldn't help but observe with yearning in her soul, a feeling she needed to hide with countless keys.

What would other people say? She was strong with her taijutsu, but still her heart was filled with fear about what hateful people might do to her when she got distracted. Her dream was to have beautiful clothes, and just show her true self to the world without being afraid– but it would never happen.

"Oh! Lee, hello!" a familiar voice said, and turning around, Lee could see Shikamaru walking towards her with a friendly smile on his face.

They had known each other during the Chunin exams, and ever since then sometimes they talked whenever it was possible. It wasn't hard for the girl to smile back and talk with him, albeit her mind was in a completely different place.

"Shikamaru! It has been a while," Lee exclaimed, doing her best to hide the anguish that had risen after overthinking just like she usually did. She wouldn't cry in front of her friend– he would want a reason behind her tears, and she didn't want to explain herself.

A short silence. Shikamaru squinted his eyes at her and tilted his head to the side, to later talk again.

"Are you okay, Lee? You seem… sad," her companion exclaimed with worry in his eyes, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to give her comfort. No matter what anybody said, Shikamaru somehow always seemed to know what people felt– be it his peers or an enemy. The girl never quite understood it.

He was a sweet boy, and Lee had a feeling he wouldn't spread her secret around... perhaps it was safe. Or maybe her soul just wanted to tell anybody, to whoever was willing to stop and listen to her. Her heart began beating quickly as she spoke in a low voice, only for the Nara to hear.

"Shikamaru… Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, her gaze falling to the ground as she talked. The boy let out a smile and nodded, not even willing to interrupt his friend. "You must not tell anybody, okay? It is very important nobody else knows."

"Uh? Okay, I won't tell," was all Shikamaru said, his eyes filled with curiosity as he waited for Lee to talk.

Her lips trembled before she finally was brave enough to speak once again, never looking at him in the eyes.

"I am a girl, Shikamaru. Just, um– I was born in the body of a boy, but that is not what I am… please, do not tell anyone."

It was like a weight had been lifted from her soul, and her lungs were filled with air after who knows how much time. She had never said it out loud– her mother wasn't interested in listening to her, so Lee had never been able to trust in anyone with her truth. And Shikamaru wasn't angry at all! At least, it didn't seem like it.

Rather, the boy had a pout on his face, as if he was still processing what had been said to him– he was a little slow sometimes, and probably didn't want to ask for clarification in fear of being mistreated just like many people had done in the past. And then his gaze brightened up, as if things made sense now.

"Oh! You're like Ino!" Shikamaru said, and his smile returned to his face. "I won't tell anyone, Lee– wait. Are you okay with me calling you that?"

Lee wanted to cry again, but this time not out of sadness– rather, it was like happiness was overflowing her, like a wave that desired to escape from her eyes. Out of instinct she hugged the boy, who chuckled and returned the embrace without saying anything.

"You are not mad at me!" Lee said, feeling her lips tremble with her words– tears finally began falling once Shikamaru gently patted her back, never letting go of her.

"Why would I? You're my friend," the boy exclaimed, letting out a soft smile. "Besides, I think you're a pretty girl."

Her cheeks suddenly felt warm, and laughter came out from her mouth for the first time in months– Lee had never expected such a nice response from anybody, and somehow her heart felt full of joy.

[danielle-dna]

Jack Of All Trades - 16

If one wishes to attend university in the UK, one must go through a vigorous and pointless process.

You need an application, a cover letter, references… preferably mommy and daddy’s money. Needless to say I have neither. I don’t even have a dad. In this situation, really good A level results would save me. But that was the exact reason why I was crying profusely when I opened my A level results. E in biology, E in chemistry and a U in mathematics. Fuck.

“Simon the fuck am I gonna do now?” I sobbed through the phone. “I studied so hard and got rewarded with failure. No uni is gonna take me in!” Simon was patient. He didn’t say anything for a while and just let me vent my frustrations. “Love, take a deep breath and try to relax. I will pick you up in about fifteen minutes and we will go out.” Somehow he alway knew what to say. Perks of being with a slightly older man.

He was a man of his word. I couldn’t be bothered to dress up nicely. I settled for black biker shorts and a long black shirt. My face was still red and puffy from the devastating news. Without even saying hello to me, he handed me a banana milkshake, my favorite.

I sat down in the car and slowly started sipping my milkshake. Simon leaned towards me and gently kissed me on the cheek. “Love, it’s gonna be okay.” I gave him a small smile and mumbled a thank you. “Where are we going?” I asked as another tear dropped down my cheek. “You ever shot a gun before?” Say what now? “No…because guns are very illegal in this country and I don’t have a permit for it?”

This earned me a small chuckle. “True that, but by now, you know what I do for a living. It will be our little secret.”

And what a lovely secret is it going to be. It took a thirty minute drive in a comfortable silence until we arrived to a smaller, military looking base. Simon pulled our an ID and flashed it at the security guard at the main gate. A small nod and the door was opened.

The base was surrounded by forest and it was in quite the secluded area. It wasn’t two minutes until a man only slightly taller than me approached us. “Aye, Lt, nice to see you ‘here!” A small grunt came out of Simons’ mouth and he turned around. “Afternoon, MacTavish.” “Fancy seeing you here. And who are you, bonnie?” He turned towards me. This so called MacTavish was a Scottish man with a mohawk and beautiful blue eyes. He also made me nervous. What do I say? Who exactly am I? m

Simon almost possessively put his arm around my waist. “She’s with me.” This prompted a huge grin from the scotsman. “I see, you must be the reason for our Lt’s good mood.” I blushed like hell and shook his hand. “I’m Andy, nice to meet you.” His handshake was as enthusiastic as his smile. “Nice to meet ya bonnie, sergeant MacTavish at your service. You can call me Soap.” Soap? What the hell…?

The most I could manage was a small smile. With that Simon and I headed toward something that looked like an outdoor shooting range. “Give me a minute, love. Be right back.” And just like that, he left me in-front of the range. This made me even more nervous. I felt like an alien masquerading as a human. Anxiously I looked around and noticed a man in a fishing hat in the distance. He looked serious and radiated authority. I would hate to be on his bad side,

Very soon Simon returned, carrying a handgun and ammo.

This is going to be fun.

As I fired my third bullet, my mood was going up significantly. Simon noticed too and I could swear I saw him smile under that mask. By the sixth bullet I was grinning. I barley managed to hit the edges of the target, but I enjoyed it more than anything in my life.

Before I knew it, I ran out of ammo. “Having fun, love?” Excitedly I nodded and begged him to reload the gun. After giving me a firm hug, he kissed my cheek and showed me how to load the gun and explained some extra details about it. “What are you thinking about?” I smiled and shot the target a few more times, this time with slightly more accuracy. “My fucking former maths and chemistry teachers. They can rot in hell for all that I care.”

The statement earned me another chuckle. “You are one spiteful bird, you know that?” I smirked and looked him dead in the eye. “I believe in revenge. Some people deserve to suffer.” Gently he took the gun out of my hands and kissed my forehead. “This is how serial killers think. Don’t be like that lovie.” I smiled and hugged him. “I promise not to act up. Can I shoot more pretty pleaseeeee?”

After I emptied four rounds, we started talking and I told him more about my goals for the future. “I wanted to be a doctor so badly but because the people who are supposed to educate me were bad at their job, the whole thing fell apart.” We were sitting on the ground and he gently pulled my hips towards him. “Hey now, not everything is lost, You can still do other things. Did you even want to be a doctor or was it just the idea you liked?” It surprised me, but…he was right. I hated people, I hated my job. Why the hell would I commit my life to doing something that I hate? “Guess you’re right. I…kind of applied to some clearing courses at a local uni, I hope it goes through.”

Another kiss. “There you go. You are free now, you can do anything you want. And you can do a lot. You told me you can do hair, you speak many languages and you experienced shit many never do. Fuck your A levels.”

Now it was my turn to laugh.