#and even that photo is actually of his attack string!

[athela-3]

For some reason, I have a lotta vertical photos of the Kamisato siblings. (Please click for full pics, as they are not all previewed in their native aspect ratios.)

[Ayato: @yukihime03]

[chocsra]

✧ STORMBRINGER CHUUYA AS YOUR GUY BSF IS .... (pt. 2)

✧ w/c: 588 ✧ content: drabbles & headcanons of cute things with stormbringer! chuuya

☆ a shocked yet distasteful groan pulling from his throat when you show him a picture of a celebrity you find cute, grumbling about how your taste in men sucks ass. you didn't think he was jealous, just shocked at the creature he was looking at. though sometimes, you barely graze the envy on his face when you actually interact with another boy; especially if he's your type, because chuuya knows. still, he brushes your friendly smile with stupidity—because the dude you're talking with 'isn't even all that.'

☆ like having an annoyed caretaker, always keeping an eye out for you, rebuking your recklessness. just appalled that you have this much carelessness for your life on a day to day basis. but even though he'd scold you gently for anything stupid or clumsy you pull, you'd always find a gloved hand reaching out to you, providing support. either when you've stumbled, or you're about to jump off a ledge from even the smallest of heights.

☆ falling face first into the ground whilst trying to fight off one of the port mafia's powerful enemies because your shoelaces were untied. humilated, you found yourself sitting on a bench as chuuya unashamedly scolds you for your rookie mistake. knelt down as he still ties your shoes. "do you double knot your laces?" he'll ask, if you already said yes, the boy would finish one shoe with a tight squeeze, before gently patting your ankle to lace the other one, "well you better start triple knottin' em!"

☆ late night calls about the silliest things. chuuya would have his camera on in his pajamas, either mindlessly fiddling with his guitar, doing some chores, or cooking simply out of boredom. he'd rant about his day, the jewel marketing circulation, this crazy fuck named 'dazai', how much he admires his superior—kouyou, and his friends which call themselves 'the flags'. in return, you can tell him all the school gossip you've picked up on, new music you caught onto, your rants in your notes app.

☆ exchanging knowing side glances at each other when someone's being annoying or a dumb fuck. it's the kind of look two sassy girls would stare at each other with a secret disdain for the person in front of them.

☆ chuuya keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you and him only. at first, it was extra incase he lost his own hair tie, but soon, if you ever needed one, he always keeps extra on his wrist so you wouldn't have messy hair flying everywhere.

☆ taking unwanted photos of chuuya while he chases after you to delete them. sometimes, it'd be mid sneeze or the boy yawning carelessly. he definitely cares once you've did a close up shot where he looks like the epitome of a ginger leprechaun. he'd (try to) snatch your phone and now gives you the stinkiest side eye when you even try to point your phone at him.

☆ unconsciously resting an arm behind your shoulders when you're both sitting side by side. for chuuya, it provides a comforting stretch for his arms, and it feels safer knowing that he can just manuver you if there was ever an unexpected attack. for you, the fact that he just does it so casually makes you a nervous wreck.

☆ believing wholeheartedly that he's human. afterall, you wouldn't feel this much adoration for a code of strings, no? you always internally chide him if he thinks otherwise, but as friends, you thought it's better to give him a comforting pat on the back.

✧ chocsra™

[anticomedygarden]

Percabeth hurt/comfort post Tartarus ptsd?

Basic I know but you can't go wrong torturing some comfort characters 😂

one of my favorite pjo tropes! so so true, thanks for the prompt. (you're my first ever prompter! bit of a landmark for me :) )

-

Staring deeply into his blue comforter like it held the secrets of the world, Annabeth didn't need to be a child of Athena to know that her boyfriend wasn't really there with her. It wasn't the first time one of them had found the other like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

He wasn't making noise or moving, actually not doing anything at all, which led her to believe that he wasn't having a panic attack or a flashback. Dissociation then.

After a lot of trial and error following the titan war, they'd figured out touch - especially involving water - helped ground him the best, so she didn't bother with trying to talk to him, not knowing how far gone he was yet. Instead she got some ice out of the water bottle on his nightstand, happening to glance at the few pictures she'd been able to bring for him to Camp Jupiter. Sally, Grover, Tyson, Thalia, the Stolls, Clarisse, and a few other campers smiled back at her.

If she'd known they were going to fall into Tartarus, she'd have packed a few more.

Turning away from the photos with a sigh, she sat down cross-legged on his bed and winced when the mattress bouncing got no reaction from him, so she gently picked up his arm in the hand not holding the ice and starting rubbing it up and down his tan forearm.

"Percy?" she murmured. "I'm gonna count backward from 100, okay?"

Predictably, he didn't answer, but she started her countdown anyway, studying his form for any changes. His jet black hair was falling into his down cast eyes, low enough that she couldn't see his seagreen irises. His pants were creased where his elbows rested on them, and she realized he was wearing the same thing as he was when his watch ended an hour ago. It hurt to know that he could've been like this for so long and she had no idea, but there wasn't anything she could do, not without leaving the ship vulnerable.

Then - movement. His hand twitched; she didn't dare stop, though, not wanting to risk backslide, just kept on counting and rubbing the ice up and down his arm.

A few minutes later, he pulled in a sharp breath and sagged a bit so that the only thing Annabeth could see was the top of his head. She'd lost count of how many times she'd made it to a hundred and back at this point.

"Percy? Are you with me?" He waited a bit and nodded minutely. "Can you try and breathe with me?"

She drew in an exaggerated breath slowly and let it out even slower. He didn't join her, so she tried again. This time, he managed a shaky, slow breath that almost aligned with hers.

After a few minutes passed and he seemed to be more present, she put the ice down on the nightstand, and he sagged even more, head landing on her shoulder like his strings had been cut.

She ran her fingers through his thick curls, illiciting a sigh from him. "Hey, baby."

His breath hitched, and she was afraid for a moment he'd start panicking, but she soon felt her shoulder grow wet.

"We're together," she whispered, hoping his words from so many (weeks? days?) ago would bring him some comfort.

They were still the most important words in the world to her.

At some point, his hands must have unclenched because she felt his nails softly scrape her thigh. "How long was I gone?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "At least 15 minutes, an hour at most."

"Damn."

Sadly, he pushed himself off of her shoulder, leaving it cold and salty. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He looked off into the distance, thinking. "I remember sitting on the bed to get to ready to shower, and nothing else."

Her heart clenched as that meant he must have been gone closer to an bour. Do you have any idea what triggered you?"

"Uh...I think maybe when I looked across the hall and saw your empty bed..." He trailed off, and she nodded.

"I'll keep the door closed from now on," she promised. It wouldn't be any kind of major change since she never slept in that room anyway. The only reason it had been open was because of habit from Coach Hedge.

Now that Percy was present and they were both calmer, they started getting ready to shower, not wanting to be without the other. (Only shower. Neither of them were ready for more at the moment.) It wasn't long before they were climbing into bed together, both considerably more refreshed but exhausted from a long day on the Argo II.

It had to get better at some point. It just had to.

[linkandorf]

Hello!! As you may or may not know, I've recently been designing a lot of fun characters based on real life spider species, and other arachnids as well! It's been a minute since I've shared any of these designs, so I figured I'd show off some more of them today! I also had my wonderful biologist friend @aphid-kirby help me identify some of these real life spider species, since I usually just search "cool spider photos" on google images for inspiration without caring what I'm actually looking at. So let's check out some more characters based on these real life spider species!

Here's Jambo and J.J., based on the Chirotheca telaincola and Ambulorbis psychedelia, respectively. In real life, these two species, despite not being very closely related, are both commonly referred to as "Scuttlebugs", causing some confusion for which one is actually being referred to. For that reason, I thought it would be fun to make them siblings! Jambo is the rowdy but protective big brother, and J.J. is the cute but also strange little sister.

This is Giacomo, based on the Triplumoculus spissumembrum. The real life species is known for it's three equally sized eyeballs, as well as it's floating limbs. Nature is crazy! Giacomo seems laidback on the surface, but he actually thinks quite highly of himself. If you were to have the right "Ability", so to say, you might be able to "cut" him down to your level. Or something.

Craftwell here is based on the Araneacaudex luxtranquilium, a tarantula known for it's strange blocky-like appearance. Similar to the real species, Craftwell is quite polite during the day, as he's quite the social butterfly, despite his bookish appearance. During the night, however, he gets VERY sucked into his hobbies of reading and writing, and it would be a grave error to disrupt him at this time of day. He drops String and Spider Eyes.

Dash is based on the Celericaecilia rubrumacula, a very tiny red spider capable of running quite quickly, and is known for being much more aggressive their blue-colored relatives. Dash is just a little guy :) In his design, I made sure to reference the many defining features of his real life counterpart, such as

This is Goldie, based on the Cephalospica retropoda, a spider with very distinct coloration that is also known for it's horn-like protrusion and strange placement of it's back pair of legs. Scientists still don't know why this species Evolved like this, but according to the Pokede- I mean, uh, scientific reports, they can't even tell it's front from it's back, so whose to say. Oh, and, uh, Goldie is, uh... cool... and red :)

My good friend Mr. Glove is based on the Myriachirotheca manususpendium, a spider with very strange behavior, in which it weaves it's web into glove-like accessories, despite spiders not having fingers! How weird! But it makes for a good anthro design, so that worked out huh! Mr. Glove is sort of an eccentric salesman, who would be happy to weave you your own pair of gloves. For a Price.

Stabitha is based on the Confodiopoda homophagus, a terrifying spider known for hiding in the shadows due to it's almost entirely silhouetted coloration, waiting to strike at it's prey. This spider doesn't just bite it's prey however, but it'll actually stab it with it's sharp legs! Yowch! A spider that sits and waits... hunting it's prey... such a violent and aggressive method of attack... so of course I turned it into a Hot Woman.

This is Muffet, based on the Araneavenditor panifica. SHe's from under tale .

[bcolfanfic]

halona is so sweet

my babyyy. her dog attack story/fic should be going up soon but here’s some softer post war ramblings about her and brady.

- idk if i’ve said this on tumblr or just discord but they don’t actually kiss until post liberation. babies. there is a one off two off ~incident~ in the stalag where they like. get each other off but they don’t kiss so obviously it means nothing (:

- benny wants to Scream when he kinda ribs brady about hearing it and he completely dead serious is just. halona’s my friend. it doesn’t mean anything.

- brady also just feels Bad about it and tries to apologize, which she shuts down but. they otherwise don’t really talk about it. the march happens shortly after and there’s enough going on as is.

- then post liberation she’s trying to keep up w brady in the partying/doesn’t want to pull him from his friends but. hatesss how crowded the o-club is. makes her itchy and she can’t even see where elowyn is to latch onto her instead so she panics a little.

- brady gets her outta there and back to the bunks and. it’s quiet. she looks so pretty in this light, the war is over and they both go in to kiss each other at the same time. have been waiting long enough :p

- **i need to do more research on hawaiian service members pre: hawaii being a state stuff so pls excuse any discrepancies here (still developing halona’s backstory more but her dad is an american navy admiral) when everyone is getting their shit sorted to go home from TA brady and his moving too fast heart wants to take halona home to meet his mom and sisters Right Away Immediately. talks himself off that ledge and tells her she should go home and see her folks but. you know there’s a lot i wanna leave here, and this isn’t one of those things.

- writes her the second he gets home and her family is so ::eyes:: about her getting a letter from a boy she served with when she’s barley through the front door. but they worry about her and think it might be good for her to be with someone who Understands so. no hard feelings save for her dad being very 1940s You Tell That Boy I Also Know How Guns Work lmao.

- brady’s sisters are SOOOO nosy nellie about this girllll he’s writing to. they make him tell them everythingggg about her and even write a letter to her themselves for him to stick in with his.

- once things are a bit more settled he pulls some strings to have a reason to go do some flight instruction at a base in hawaii and see her <3. so nervous bc he’s scared things are gonna be Different. which they are in some sense, but not in a bad way.

- is a little bit tiny smidge scared her dad is gonna hate him, is sweating a little when he’s introducing himself but. it goes okay. brady is a good man 🙏🏼

- ^ that last pinterest photo is her later down the line w her and brady’s little girl samara <3. 50% named after elowyn’s co-pilot that died before she could bail out, mara. brady calls her his little peanut and she VERY stubbornly informs him she is not a peanut, she is a girl. 🙄

[sunriseverse]

For the drabbles!!

5. “I heard a noise.” Iron triangle

HI RAY thank you for the prompt!!! this is about 10x as long as an actual drabble BUT have some iron triangle fluff :)

-

Pangzi and Wu Xie are very sly—or, at least, Xiaoge thinks, bemused, they are attempting to be sly. For anyone else, anyone who doesn’t know them as well as he does, it would, perhaps, even work, but Xiaoge has been through almost every imaginable situation with them, and so, his ability to discern what they are attempting to do is probably significantly higher than the average person’s.

Take, for example, right now: Wu Xie, blinking sleepily up at him over a bowl of xifan, a hint of focus in his gaze as he asks, in what must be an attempt for a casual tone, “So, Xiaoge, what are you up to the next few days?”

From anyone else, this might be a normal question; after all, it’s hardly unnatural to wonder what someone you live with it planning on doing. What makes it suspicious, though, is that Wu Xie has always been content to leave him to his own devices, and the fact that Pangzi is clearly hanging onto every word, significantly more awake than Wu Xie is. Xiaoge takes a moment to think, both because he would like to eat a little bit more in case Wu Xie starts bombarding him with further questions, and because he doesn’t want Pangzi to be alerted of the fact that he knows they’re up to something. In the end he shrugs and says, “Nothing.”

“You should get out into the woods!” Pangzi says. “The weather’s so nice, I bet it’s nice and cool in the mornings. You haven’t gone out much recently, have you?”

Xiaoge glances at him, glad he doesn’t have the urge to stare at people (usually), because if he were anyone else, he’d stare at Pangzi for how suspicious that string of sentences was. As it is, he just noncommittally eats another spoonful of breakfast—or lunch, really, but Wu Xie never gets up until after ten, so breakfast with him is lunch for the rest of them—and wonders what, exactly, the two of them are up to.

“You could take photos,” Wu Xie suggests around a yawn. “I always hear birds, and there’s probably more in the woods. Not to mention the sunrise—those are beautiful. Hey, you could put that camera Hei Yanjing sent us to good use! It’s not doing anything but collecting dust on the shelf, anyway.”

This time, Xiaoge does allow himself to stare for a moment, fond amusement rising in his chest. They’re definitely up to something, but it’s not anything harmful, or he would have realised it by now, and so, he feels fairly content to just let it play out however it will, so he says, “Alright,” and pretends not to notice the elation that spreads across Wu Xie’s face, quickly hidden, or the crafty gleam in Pangzi’s eye.

They clearly want him out of the house for some reason, so Xiaoge takes his sword and heads into the forest after they finish eating. It’s hardly a hardship—the solitude of the woods is welcomed; as much as he loves Wu Xie and Pangzi, they tend to be loud men, taking up entire rooms with their presence. Some days, it’s hard to be around that sort of brilliance for long, even if today that isn’t the case. He takes the camera Hei Xiazi had sent as a gag gift, and hangs the strap around his neck, not particularly worried about how it might weigh him down—after all, the most dangerous things around here are the goats, and they don’t usually attack, nor can they climb trees, so he has an escape route if he ever needs one.

He goes into the woods the next day, as well as the one after that. The others think they’re being sneaky, but the back of Wu Xie’s had has a smear of frosting on it when he gets back one day, and the next, Pangzi comes back from a trip into the city with a packet of birthday candles hidden at the bottom of the bag of necessities they can’t get from the village market. Pangzi hurries him out of the kitchen (“I heard a noise, go check that that old crow isn’t back.”) in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t see them, but Xiaoge’s gaze is sharper than he gives him credit for. They are trying so hard to hide whatever it is from him, and while it isn’t working, Xiaoge can’t help but feel a warm, sunglow affection curling beneath his ribs at their attempts.

It all comes to head about four days after the initial morning where he had noticed it. He comes back from the woods with a half dozen photos of wildlife, and only has a moment to step over the threshold before Wu Xie is rushing up to him and exclaiming, “Xiaoge! Close your eyes!”, which is all the warning he gets before Wu Xie is raising his hands to block his view. Amused, Xiaoge allows him to do so, closing his own eyes as he slips the camera strap off. Wu Xie, realising that he’s not looking, takes the camera from him, with the order to stay where he is. Xiaoge does as told, breathing evenly as he waits—an action which draws in the scent of burning wax. So that’s where the candles went, he muses.

A few moments later, Wu Xie bustles back, and takes him by the hand to lead him down the hall and towards the kitchen. It’s sweet, that Wu Xie bothers—Xiaoge could probably navigate their home deaf and blind, just from muscle memory, but the fact that Wu Xie takes the time to carefully lead him along, warning him to avoid various obstacles, is sweet. When they reach the kitchen, Wu Xie makes him sit down in the large chair in front of the window, and Pangzi says, “Okay, you can open your eyes,” and when Xiaoge does, he’s met with the sight of a slightly-lopsided black-frosted cake with gold accents that may have once been attempts at flowers, but which resemble more piles of stones.

“Happy homecoming!” Wu Xie exclaims, grinning, and takes a seat next to Pangzi on the other chair.

“Go on, blow the candles out!” Pangzi encourages, smiling as well. There’s fifteen candles—one, Xiaoge realises, for each year since he’s returned from beyond the Bronze Gate. The flames flicker cheerily, wax running slowly down the sides.

It’s moments like these—Wu Xie’s leg pressing against his own, Pangzi’s hand finding his under the table, the affection clear in their expressions—that remind him of the enormous love that lays between them, sometimes barely noticeable from how accustomed he is to it, but awe-inspiring as soon as it catches his attention again. He can’t help but smile as he leans forward to blow out the candles, and Wu Xie and Pangzi cheer, before Pangzi gets up to bustle around for a knife to cut the cake, and the sunlight is spilling in through the window and illuminating everything in a soft glow, and—nothing in life is perfect, not really, but this comes close.

[jessicagailwrites]

Writeblr Garden's Pumpkin Pitch Event: Six Strings & Stardust

Read for free on Substack

World-renowned pop sensation, Naomi Bell, becomes entangled with Benjamin Ferreira, the charismatic front man of a rapidly rising rock band, sparking an electric connection during one charged weekend. Their blissful time together shatters under the weight of expectations, propelling them into an intense, highly publicized feud. A media frenzy ensues as Naomi and Ben exchange sharp words and veiled accusations, even as their fame soars. Despite the growing chasm between them, their hearts persistently pull them closer. Determined to reunite, they embark on journeys of self-discovery, confronting personal demons, navigating the treacherous landscape of fame, and rekindling their initial passion. As their paths converge once more, they find solace in shared experiences and an unbreakable bond, rising above the fabricated feud that tore them apart. This is a tale of forgiveness, redemption, and the indomitable spirit of two artists who defy the barriers erected around them.

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Trigger Warnings:

anxiety

alcohol abuse

panic attacks

parental manipulation

language

Tropes:

found family

lovers - enemies - friends - lovers

opposites attract

Excerpt under the cut:

“Naomi Bell to set 19. Naomi Bell to set 19.” The static overhead announcement sounded for the fifth time for the photo shoot that was supposed to start an hour ago. I can quote it word for word now, something I’ll probably be reciting in my sleep tonight. The style team for the world’s most renowned pop star shifts uncomfortably on the fringes of the set. A short woman with a sharp bob haircut checks her watch for the twentieth time and groans in frustration at the wasted minutes. This photoshoot was supposed to be wrapping up now; instead one self-centered diva is throwing off everyone else’s schedule.

The set is adorned with several guitars ranging from vintage electrics to the most modern, streamlined acoustics on the market. In a stroke of, what they are calling, genius, top guitar designer Banshee Guitars is launching a new campaign with two of its musical ambassadors to demonstrate not only the breadth of its own range of style but also the unifying power of music across different people. Apparently, Naomi Bell and I are the perfect combo from their roaster to illustrate these polar opposites.

I was here thirty minutes early and the urge to say “fuck it” and leave is eating away at me. The style team assigned to me has applied the most elaborate version of my stage makeup on my face and neck. It’s beginning to irritate my skin, adding to every other thing about this that irritates me. My head falls back as I lean over the arm of the decorative chair I’ve been trying to get comfortable in for an hour to attempt eye contact with my manager. He’s equally unimpressed.

“I’m leaving in five minutes.” It is the sixth time I have made the same threat.

Martin simply holds up a perfectly manicured finger to silence me. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. He rarely does.

“No, you aren’t,” he replies with his usual dry and apathetic tone, still never looking my way.

I bite back the comments that are begging to spill from my lips. I’ve been trying to play nice, but I still can’t stifle the growl of frustration. The amount of work I have to do that isn’t actually making music is astonishing to me and something I can’t get used to.

The announcement rings out again, calling Naomi to the set. This time, a frantic bustling of voices follows from one of the long hallways that lead to the various dressing rooms and other studios.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” a chorus of melodic apologies ring out, getting closer and closer until a burst of pink and glitter emerges from the hallway.

“I’m so sorry! I hope you all haven’t been waiting for me too long.” Her singsong voice carries around the space as she hurries towards the set, stepping carefully and gracefully over power cords and props in her sky-high platform shoes. It’s all pink, the glittery crop top she’s wearing, the vinyl skirt hugging her hips, and those enormous shoes.

In the same room, it’s easy to see why they chose the two of us. Naomi is so bright. Everything about her is migraine-inducing, from her platinum hair to her bleached teeth. And she is so short; I could tell from across the room. It’s the most surprising thing about her. She always seems so larger than life in performances I’ve seen online — that’s not even mentioning the powerhouse that is her voice.

“Only an hour and a half.” I scoff as I stand and stretch out my legs, feeling every second that I spent waiting in that chair. This is the only evening I have to myself for a while and I had hoped this shoot wouldn’t cut into it too much — that dream is shattered. Our tour really kicks off after tomorrow night’s show, and we’re going to be busier than ever.

A small pout pushes at Naomi’s lips. “I’m really sorry. I got held up in wardrobe.”

I’m spoon-fed the opportunity to evaluate the aforementioned wardrobe. How it took so long to dress someone in so little clothing is beyond me.

[contrasting-realities]

Old Glitchtale AU

During 2021 and 2022 I had an AU for glitchtale that was pretty much a side story of season 2. I actually still like this AU even though it's extremely old by my standards, but here we go.

Jamie

An aspiring investigator who loves solving mysteries but can also be very nosy, to the detriment of others at times. She dreams of solving a major cold case and tries to discover the secrets of her city. Eventually gains an ability similar to Ronan but with the power to create electricity between her bullets. She also has incredible intuition and can see things others would overlook.

Oliver Ward (Puppeteer persona only appears on photos/video)

A very shy and timid boy who hates direct confrontation. Carries a rabbit doll with him at all times for emotional support. Oliver is quiet and comes from a lower class background, which taught him responsibility and the value of saving at a young age.

Justine (God this is so old)

A mysterious girl who lives in the woods, she seems to have a goal of some kind and is driven by a strong sense of justice and vengeance for some kind of purpose...

These three are the protagonists, with Jamie being the main character. Jamie is a student at Toriel's school and she is struggling with her magic. Like, she can't summon any weapon to save her life. Due to this she is thrown into the 'magical special needs class' which she isn't happy about, especially since her best friend is dual traited (Integrity/Perseverance) and is gifted at magic. But that's not all, Jamie dreams of being a private investigator when she grows up and is eager to investigate and solve mysteries around the city. So, when she gets dumped into this special class and gets bored, she notices that one of the other students, that being Oliver, seems to be traitless, which confused her because why would a traitless kid sign up for a school for magic?

So Jamie tried to find out the key to this mystery, by stalking Oliver around school and asking others about him. This understandably freaks Oliver out and he tries avoiding Jamie but that doesn't work. After a bit, Jamie vents to her friend about the lack of progress on this 'mystery' since no one has ever seen Oliver's soul or his magic, her friend is annoyed and suggests that she should just ask Oliver what his deal is and Jamie thinks that's a great idea.

Cut to her cornering Oliver in a dark alleyway at lunch and pressuring him like some kind of police investigation, this causes him to have a mental breakdown and Jamie gets her answer. He wasn't traitless, Oliver is one of the few survivors of a trait inversion and his mental breakdown causes a magic outburst of FEAR strings and puppetry. Jamie runs and starts asking how a bravery soul could be brown before Chara arrives and helps protect the kids. Chara chastises Jamie for effectively stalking and bullying her classmate just so that she can get answers, and also explains what an inverted soul is and because of this outburst, Oliver might die from strain on his already damaged soul.

Jamie feels very guilty and tries to help Chara fight these strings despite not having magic before something strange happens. She is attacked by Oliver's magic but is suddenly able to generate electricity after the attack through some kind of trait mutation. She uses this to help Chara and get to Oliver, she apologizes but he can't hear her and she gets tied up by the strings and is forced to fight Chara. While in this state she sees several of Oliver's memories, which detail the severe bullying he went through since he was young by a kid who hated that his parents tried to pamper them despite their poverty, it eventually grew bad enough (physical and emotional abuse, the dots on his hands are burn scars) that he lost his trait and then suffered a soul inversion that caused him to go nuts and kill his bullies, before he nearly died in the hospital later on. Jamie manages to make it to his inner self who understandably wants nothing to do with her but she manages to get him to listen and she apologizes for causing him so much harm, as she didn't know anything about his past.

(Oliver never attempted to defend himself from his bullies because he had a serious imbalance in his soul between the physical and mental aspects, he had effectively no physical bravery which is the opposite of Agate.)

This ends the rampage and both Oliver and Jamie are in tears afterwards, school is closed and everyone goes home. Jamie and Oliver don't meet up until the next day where things are very awkward between them before the teacher addresses yesterday's incident and explains exactly what is up with Oliver before moving on with her lesson. Jamie is ostracized at school after this but Oliver stays by her because he doesn't want what happened to him to happen to her, as that one kid who tormented him spread lies to get everyone else to hate him. Jamie asks him why and Oliver explains this to her, but she is clearly suffering from immense guilt after yesterday.

Oliver winds up going to the doctor after school because of yesterdays incident and the topic shifts to the cost of said appointment since Jamie deduced that his family must not have that much money. Jamie is worried but Oliver brushes her off and says that it's fine, because his parents are taking over loans to cover his medical care. This doesn't calm her and she winds up running to her best friend for help, since her family is loaded, and tells her about Oliver's financial issues. Her friend is not happy to see Jamie after what she did and blows up at her for nearly killing someone, but she does wind up getting her parents to pay for or reimburse Oliver's parents since it's for him but she still isn't happy with Jamie.

Jamie winds up hanging out with Oliver after school since nobody else wants to be around her and she cautiously shows him some of the mysteries she's been investigating. They wind up having fun, as long as it wasn't invading anyone else's privacy or causing harm, and they continue to do so for a while. They bond for about a week before shit really goes down.

They decide to investigate the woods around Mnt. Ebbot due to rumors of the area being haunted by spirits, and while this is a bit uncomfortable, they reason that said ghosts probably weren't the monster kind since they had integrated into human society and that these ghosts were humans who had regrets on Earth... what they find is something else entirely.

They run into Justine for the first time who warns them about going any further, when Jamie asks if she's a ghost she refuses to answer and leaves after Jamie argues with her about everything being fine. Beyond her is... something else entirely, a place that claims to be a famous boarding school in the mountains but from what Jamie and Oliver can see is some kind of cult run by monsters that exploits and abuses human children. Both are shocked by this but decide to run before they get caught.

Justine goes after Jamie late at night, she breaks into her window and tells her to run, not from her, but from those who ran the summer camp because they surely noticed her by now. Jamie says that she's crazy before a magic bullet comes flying at them before Justine stops said bullet with her magic. Jamie runs while Justine fights the monsters attacking her, but several also go after Jamie when she leaves the front door but she knocks them out with her magic and her dad's taser. A few attempt to enter her house but are quickly killed by Justine.

Jamie realizes that Oliver would also be targeted like this and goes to warn him. She somehow makes it to his family's trailer and forces her way inside once his mom opens the door. She wakes up Oliver and screams that they are being targeted but he is confused and only asks her what she's talking about. Jamie explains before Justine is thrown through the wall alongside a strange pink blob monster, she runs back out and fires magic at two more monsters and a few humans. Oliver, Jamie and his mom and dad choose to flee after this.

For a while they stay near government buildings, particularly the AMD office before Justine shows up and claims that it's safe for them to go home because she 'sent a message to them'. They do so and the next day at school a certain pink girl arrives for the first time...

So this is where it overlaps with the Bete Noire incident, Oliver and Jamie run from the city and try to use the chaos as a cover to find more about and stop this cult pretending to be a boarding school. Justine is revealed to be a Bete Noire similar to Betty, but whom was created by a former student to destroy not only the school but the organization running it which turned out to be the monster Illuminati which controlled humanity since the ancient war.

Jamie, Oliver, and Justine manage to lure out this organization's leaders during the chaos of the Bete incident and manage to beat them eventually exposing them to the public. This causes a massive shift as Betty decides that the escaped monsters are none of her concern but that this organization was the real threat. She joins Jamie's group with heavy resistance and most of the glitchtale cast slowly turns around to fight these people. A few more truths come out like how this organization was experimenting on humans (Jamie's reaction to inverted magic is the same as some humans reacting to monster magic but it can happen several time with her) and that they basically have Betty's motives, that monsters will cause war if humans don't control/eradicate them, but in reverse.

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education: Chapter 21

Minors DNI

Masterlist link

Chapter 21

The rain came down in loud gray torrents outside of Leia's warm little apartment while the team huddled together in her living room, thinking out loud and trying to plan, sharing every scrap of information and experience from the last few hours.

The news had spread to the entire town by now that Dr. John Ferguson, dean of Hawkins Community College had died that morning from a heart attack. Although no one in that room (or in most of Hawkins for that matter) would particularly mourn the death of such an unpleasant man, the little team was fairly certain it was no ordinary death.

Dustin was pacing in the middle of the room, thankfully taking the lead since Eddie and Leia were both too exhausted to even think clearly.

“Okay,” Dustin said clapping his hands, cracking his knuckles, and talking through his deductions like a dorky Sherlock. “I pulled a few strings at the coroner's office and saw the postmortem notes and photos...”

“Hold the fucking phone! You What? How?” exclaimed Steve.

Dustin resumed, saying loudly, “It doesn't matter Steve! We needed to know for sure that it's Vecna.” Steve threw up his arms in a resigned huff. Dustin continued in a softer voice, setting his hand gently on Leia's shoulder. “It is Vecna, Leia, I'm sorry.”

She nodded her head, saying with a bland expression, “great...”

“But!” Dustin said, holding up his finger. “I have a theory. The good news is, this time it doesn't seem like he can break through someone's mind enough while they're awake to physically hurt them. I think they have to be asleep for him to have his full power...power to kill. I guess killing him once must have weakened him. Also...”

“Wait! He used to be able to physically harm people when they're awake?” Leia asked, puzzled.

“Yeah..but...but now he could probably only make you hallucinate, scare you at best, when you're awake. He wouldn't be able to kill you...and of course music can pull you out as well,” he explained as if that would make her feel much better.

Eddie screamed at Dustin.“For fuck sake, Henderson!” as he came over to put an arm around his girlfriend, who still looked exhausted and vacant. Leia crossed her arms and simply nodded numbly, thinking sure, this might as well happen. She was rapidly getting to a point where nothing surprised her.

Dustin and Robin grimaced and side-eyed each other. “Sorry,” she whined out. “But we didn't want to talk about that too much and scare you more if it wasn't necessary and, look, wasn't necessary. Yay!” Robin gave a weak, sarcastic little cheer. Leia sat down heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Eddie planted himself protectively next to Leia, and snipped, “is that all, Dustin? Huh? Any other great news for us?”

“Actually yes, butthead, there is better news. I think I know how to defeat him this time. I think that he was able to survive because after he technically died, his body remained and was reanimated by whatever power he sucks up from the upside-down. Whatever power the upside-down has, it's like a defibrillator times a thousand, and must regrow tissue better and faster than stem cells. It's the same reason Eddie survived. He was in the upside-down long enough that it restarted his heart and brain, then helped knit his body back together in a way that would have been impossible in our world.”

Eddie twitched and subconsciously stroked a finger over where his scars laid in ridges beneath the cotton of his shirt; as if even the mention of all of this made them throb and itch again.

Steve piped up. “So we need to kill this fucker again, and this time we have to make sure we drag him outside of the upside-down?” “Correct, dear Stevie. If we pull this bastard out of the weird biological stew that's keeping him on life support he won't stand a chance. I bet once we get him out of the upside-down he won't even be able to invade minds anymore. He needs his anchor-point to do so...has to be plugged into the outlet to charge up, and he can't move his body from that place in the upside-down as long as his mind is invading someone's here.”

“Are there still portals? And how will we know where his new nest is in the upside-down? We'll need to map it out,” Robin added.

“Well, we don't know...we're gonna have to....”

“What about weapons....

“Does anybody know how to get a hold of El again?”

“Why don't we...”

Everyone was on their feet again, debating and talking over each other...everyone except Leia who was still sitting in the same hunched position, eyes glazed over. No one noticed in the fury of their raucous discussion.

As she sat, in a twilight between waking and sleeping, she heard him; his voice like the creaking of an old door that shouldn't be opened.

Look at them.

She felt that gnarled hand under her chin again, as it lifted her head. Her apartment was again bathed in a surreal dark blue luminescence, everything looked hazy and sub-aquatic, but she could make out the shadowy figures and echoing sounds of her friends as they bickered and yelled. They were right there but seemed so far away, untouchable. The air moved languidly, fluidly, carrying sound more slowly, and weighing down upon her skin. Leia tried to stand but was cemented to her seat on the couch, she couldn't even rotate her head to see any more of Venca sitting next to her. Out of the corner of her eye she could barely see that he was slouched easily into the sofa next to her, an arm around her back as if they were a couple on a date. As if it were Eddie and herself, watching a movie.

Eddie! she tried to say. But the words only came out in her mind.

Hmmm...what about him, Leia? You think he could save you? Look at them, squabbling like children. You think any of them could save you?

I'm not sure...but...but maybe I could save them?

His hand was now smooth and cold and human; Henry's hand. He turned her head to face him, to meet his piercing blue eyes. Are you about to propose some kind of deal?

He cracked a lopsided grin, amused by the idea. I'm listening.

What if I came willingly? What if I let you kill me or take me, or whatever horrible thing you want with me, if it means you leave the rest of them alone? Especially Eddie.

He sighed and moved closer, looking more deeply into her eyes, reading the truth in her thoughts.

Oh! You really mean it don't you? It's adorable that you think you have any bargaining power here. You're smarter than that. Listen to me...he said, his voice becoming audible, lips moving as he spoke.

“I will win, no matter what. I will decide who lives and who dies, no matter what. And I will take you, no matter what. It'd be best if you make peace with that. I'll even get rid of the people who have hurt you and teach you to relish the death of your enemies, just as I do. I'm offering you such a lovely gift! Accept it.”

Looking into her mind, he could feel the fear and despair seeping in. He tutted as tears began to travel down her cheeks from the dark pools of her eyes, but he enjoyed seeing her break like this, so vulnerable. “Now now. Don't be sad,” he said breaking into a wide smile that didn't reach his frozen eyes. His long cold fingers wiped away her tears. “and don't be afraid. I have no desire to kill you. I'd rather not harm a single hair on your precious head,” Henry said, combing his bony white fingers through her black locks.

“Why?” she asked in a trembling whisper, her voice now free to leave her mouth.

“Because these days, I hunger for predators a good deal more than their prey. They...taste different. More meaty, more sustaining. And, thanks to your friends, I need heartier meals to regain strength these days.” He pointed over to where the shadows of her friends were still talking, “Of course, I have no trouble devouring some of the prey as well if they inconvenience me too much.”

Leia closed her eyes weeping, terrified of his power, feeling totally helpless to save her friends or herself, or her dear sweet Eddie. “No no...don't close your lovely eyes, darling,” Henry said with an artificially sweet smile, as he psychically forced her lids to open. “I want you to see. You'll be by my side, after all, when it all comes to pass.”

One cold hand wiped her tears away, while the other covered her forehead gently, like a nurse checking for a fever. Vecna was showing her his plan, his ideal of a utopia made in his image. As he did, he licked her tears off of his long fingers and hummed in satisfaction at the taste of her hurt, her sorrow, her gentle but stubborn empathy and kindness and grit which coated his tongue like sugar. It was somehow especially delectable. If the sour rage of the predators was his supper, she was an absolute confection of a dessert, and he would savor her eternally. She fascinated him far too much to kill her, this rare little bird. No. She would make a fine and clever pet for him...forever.

“Leia!” Eddie was screaming at her as she sat on the couch, eyes fogged over. Steve, vaulted over to her CD player and shakily hit the play button, cranking the sound up and blurting out a mantra of “Come on come on come on!” as they all clustered around the sofa.

Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again...

Robert Smith crooned out as Leia's obscured pupils swirled from dead gray back to her usual warm black-brown. She heard the music and her mind latched onto the opening chords like a rope pulling her to shore. The hand on her face no long felt bony, cold, and otherworldly. It felt warm and familiar. The fluid air in the blue-scale hallucination began to shudder and swirl down, like a deep pool being drained, leaving the warm colors of reality. She felt her head surface into lighter air and took deep heaving breaths. Her physical body awoke with a start, eyes flashing all the way open, lungs heaving for breath, Eddie's terrified face was in front of hers, his warm hands cradling her face as she came back to the waking world.

“Eddie!” she gasped, throwing her arms around him, shaking like a frightened animal. She began to rush her words out. “He...he was in my head...he gets inside of me. I...I tried to make a deal...myself for you and he wouldn't take it, Eddie. He won't...he won't stop. He's going to take me and I can't protect you...or..anyone. If he can get to me he can get to all of you....oh god.”

Eddie held on tight. “Shhhhh. Shhhh. Hey...hey it's okay. We'll make a plan okay...we'll fight together.”

He pulled away to look into her eyes. “Look at me...together...okay? We're all gonna do it together.” The gathered group nodded frantically to her, just as Eddie did. Then he kissed her quickly, desperately.

Leia looked around, still shaking, but entirely back in the room now, breath becoming more regular. She swallowed, gaining composure, come on, roll with the punches. It's what you're good at. Use what you've learned. She reminded herself, then said in a measured tone, “I think whatever plan you come up with. I shouldn't know it. If he can get into my head whenever he wants like this, I can't know your next steps.”

Dustin clapped a hand over his forehead. “Holy shit. Obviously. Why didn't I think of that?”

She gave a wry smile, “To be fair, Dustin, you've very suddenly had a lot to think of.

Robin said, “Right. Well, whatever we plan, we have to plan without you, but can you at least tell us what he's telling you? It might help us. I'm sure he's giving you clues. He likes the game of it.”

Leia took a deep breath. “Give me a second. It's like trying to remember a dream...well...I guess that's exactly what it is. He...he doesn't want to kill me.” Her face twisted in disgust. “He wants to keep me as a pet. He said he is more interested in killing predators than prey because it gives him more strength, but he's not averse to killing prey if it gets in his way.”

“Jesus!” Steve huffed, looking up with his hands on his hips.

Dustin just nodded seriously and said, “Good, Leia, that's valuable information.”

“Oh...and...and he said he won't take me with him yet. He said he has another 'gift' for me and it's not ready yet. He said to tell you all to...” She grimaced, like she was holding back bile, “to let me sleep well for a few nights. He has other work to do and he wants his pet to be healthy when he comes back for her.”

Dustin shrugged, “Well, you do need to sleep. We can't keep you awake forever like this. And if he visits you again, he doesn't intend to hurt you. It might give us more information. Oddly, he might be doing us a few favors here.”

They all looked at him, staring him down in slight disbelief at his blunt bedside manner; all except Leia.

“What?” Leia said, eyeing them all up. “He has a point, guys.”

Eddie flailed his arms stood and saying, “Nooo. No way. No fucking way we're just gonna trust that he means that shit he said and....and...give you to him??” His voice was rising, cracking.

Leia, looked him in the eye standing up and grabbing him by both arms, “Eddie, listen to me. We have to be rational here. Anything we do now has a risk. If he visits me, he can't visit anyone else at the same time, right?”

She looked to Dustin for confirmation. “Right.” he said with a nod.

“Then he can't get to whoever the next 'gift' is to murder. He can't get to any of you. The longer I keep him distracted, the less dangerous he is. Dustin, what...what if all of us make sure music is playing while we sleep, will that block him out from being able to get any of you?”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, eyes flitting around following her train of thought, “Yeah...brilliant. That would work. The only times he's been able to get to you is when the music stopped, and we can't all stay awake all the time.”

Dustin took the lead, deciding which of their team would be room mates for the next few days. Sleeping in shifts and keeping the music playing for the other. Steve and Robin lived together, so they were an obvious choice, and babysitter Steve was quick to offer Dustin a place at their house.

“Eddie? Leia?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we got it.”

“I...I fell asleep last time and the music stopped and he got to her, man. I don't trust myself,” Eddie said, shaking.

Dustin nodded and said quietly with a hand on his shoulder. “I'll stay with you two here then? I know it's not an ideal...uh...romantic scenario.”

Leia chuckled. “It's okay, Dustin. Our minds aren't exactly on that right now. I mean, the first priority is killing an otherworldly demon wizard, after all. Besides, I'll make you breakfast in the morning.” she said with a smile.

Robin, came closer, her sky blue eyes gazing down to meet Leia's. “How...sorry to ask...but how are you taking all of this so well?”

Leia shrugged, “Vecna's not the first asshole who's tried to ruin my life, intimidate me, and bully me into submission. I guess I know the type.” She paused and smiled to Eddie, “and thanks to people who believe in me, I'm learning how to fight back.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer @veemoon

[bellafragolina]

I had to sneak in before they got closed again. 👀

So hear me out, we all talk about ingo and emmet's s/o getting swept away into Hisui and how they would react, BUT what if it was Guzma, Raihan, Leon, and piers s/o that got swprt away?? How would they take it.

Thank you for all your hard work, and I look forward to all your works! 🥺💕

yesss let's hurt these boys

🍓🍓🍓

Guzma:

The grunts claim you just disappeared, a bright flash of light and then gone. They're panicked and some are actually crying, so Guzma sends them to relax while he goes out searching for you. You're not answering your phone, and he's getting angrier by the minute. Not at you, but at whoever has done something to make you worry him and everyone like this. He's ready to kick ass when he finds your things abandoned near where you and the grunts were hunting for wild Pokémon

Nanu isn't pleased to get a visit from Guzma, but when he learns what happened, he's more sympathetic. He organizes for some officers to come to the island, then conducts a proper search for you. They find nothing, and Nanu has to physically restrain Guzma from attacking the officers he claims are "doing jack-all" Plumeria eventually comes and drags Guzma back to the Shady House to give it a rest, but Guzma can hardly lie still, especially in your empty, shared bed

The longer you're missing, the angrier Guzma grows. He's one second away from attack most anyone, besides Plumeria and the grunts. He doesn't blame the kids for what happened to you, and he scares off any reporters that try to harass them. You'll come back, he reassures his guilty grunts, even if they have to beat down a legendary Pokémon to get you back. He's not giving up that easy

Raihan:

Your disappearance floods the social medias as soon as Raihan realizes you're not just late getting home. He contacts the police, then has the entire internet memorizing your photos so they can look for you around towns and cities. Leon is a big help during the search, using his Champion status to get people out into the farthest reaches of Galar to search for you

Raihan dedicates himself to your search. Each failed attempt has him re-strategizing and going again, and again, and again. When he's not in the station, practically leading your investigation, he's at home, making sure his and your Pokémon are taken care of. There's not a moment's downtime, and he doesn't take one moment to process just what might've happened to you. He refuses to humor it

When months pass and they're no closer to finding you, Raihan breaks down. He completely removes himself from everything, his gym, his socials, his friends. Leon comes to him, worried and trying so hard to be supportive. He challenges Raihan to a battle, desperate to get him trying, and Raihan accepts. Win or lose, after Leon asks him if he's ready to give up on you. Raihan nearly tears him apart to even suggest it.

Leon demands to know why has he given up then? He's sitting here, alone, doing nothing. They should be out there looking for you. And when Raihan retaliates that they've already searched the region for you, Leon clasps his hand and reminds him Galar isn't the only region. They'll find you, together.

Leon:

You're out together, lost in the Wild Area, searching around for any sign of where you might be. There's no cell service, so you decide to do a loop of the nearby area in search of landmarks or signal before returning to the Carizard. Leon does his loop, and returns to the car. Then he hears you shout. But when he makes it to where you were, you're not there.

Leon is terrified, he searches the Wild Area for hours with his Pokémon, shouting for you, but he can't find anything. All that's left is your bag and phone, you're nowhere to be seen. When night starts to fall, he's forced to give up and try and find civilization. With your wellbeing on the line, it's not difficult to find the closest town and report to the authorities what happened

Leon doesn't rest. He pulls strings, abuses his powers, begs any and everybody to help him find you. But your gone. The entire region is combed, but they can't find you, no one can. Not even him. It tears him up, but he can't stop looking. He'll ask every region, he will search every region, he'll search the bottom of every damn ocean before he gives up on finding you. Because it's his fault your gone, so he's going to find you again if it kills him.

Piers:

It's starts with you not showing up to one of his gigs. This is weird, since you told him you were gonna be here, but he decides not to worry about it. You've not called to say something's happened, and he's not heard anything about you getting into an accident, so he leaves it be. But when he tries to call you after and you don't answer? You're not at home, no one has seen you. He starts to worry

Police find your phone on the path you usually take to Spikemuth, lying on the side of the road alongside a bag full of your things. Piers clutches said bag to his chest as the police tell him there's no sign of you, or what happened to you. No struggle tracks, no footprints, not even a hint of a Pokémon being around that interacted with you. It's like you just. . . vanished.

Piers waits for you, waits for any sign of you to show up, even though it never does. He writes songs about you, the love he lost, taken away to somewhere he can't follow. It tears him up when they pronounce you dead, and he can hardly stand to be at your funeral, knowing there's no body to prove that you're really, truly dead. But he stands through it, being strong for Marnie, even though he knows deep in his soul you're still out, trying to find your way back to him

🍓🍓🍓

shout out to @fluffabutt for helping me not sound like a broken record with these. i appreciate you babe <3

Have a great night, love!

[neochan]

GENRE | smut, idolverse!

WARNINGS | smut

WC | 2.6k +

A.N | this is a repost of my older work. i hope you enjoy it <3

You could still hear the unintelligible screaming of thousands of fans as the boys filtered off the stage and into the greenroom. Another successful concert in the long string of tour stops. You couldn’t even remember what state you were in because the days of traveling, unpacking, setting up, and doing it all again the next day ran together.

The boys were dripping sweat, immediately grabbing bottles of water and towels to wipe themselves off. They had worked harder than normal today since during one of the sets the microphone cut out and they had to perform acapella. Someone was getting fired for that.

Taeyong flopped onto the leather couch dominating the center of the room, water in one hand, phone in the other. “People are already uploading photos.” He outstretches his arm so the others could view the pictures pulled up on his screen.

“Johnny you look ridiculous,” you point out, laughing as a fan had caught Johnny in the act of wildly waving his light stick.

“I was having a good time, okay?” He chuckles and walks into the dressing rooms to change out of his stage outfit. Half of the group filtered out to change and half stayed to peruse through the gifts left by venue staff and play on their phones until told otherwise.

You were wondering where Hyuck was when you heard his voice from the hallway. He saunters in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Enjoy the show?” His golden skin was tainted pink, hair matted to his forehead by the sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He grabbed his shirt and lifted it to swipe at his face, revealing his cute tummy. You had to resist the urge to poke it.

“I enjoyed hearing thousands of pretty fans scream your name” You give him a smirk knowing that he hates when you downplay your relationship.

He nudges you with his shoulder, “You know I meant the songs,” his doe eyes look into yours, his long lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinked “Besides, you know I love you and only you.”

Mark began to nervously giggle in the corner while Doyoung made fake gagging noises from the vanity he sat at. “Oh, shut up.” You say, throwing empty water bottles at the two, “And hurry up I wanna go swimming before it gets too late.”

The ride home was peaceful once the swarms of fans cleared a path for the bus. Per the managers request you slouched down in your seat so know one could see you through the window. It didn’t make much sense because the windows were tinted, but Haechan had to argue for his life to allow them to let you tag along on the tour, so you didn’t question them. Once you were on the road, you sat back up and snuggled close to Haechans side. He rested his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking you with his thumb. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, listening to music. It was so loud you could almost make out the words but you didn’t say anything – you let him stay in his post concert utopia for the whole trip.

The hotel was about an hour away from the venue so that no one would find them, and they’d be closer to their next destination. It was nicer than the others because it actually had a pool. You and Haechan made an agreement to go swimming after the concert, and you couldn’t wait. The staff also rented more rooms, so instead of four people to a bed, it was just you and Haechan.

After checking in everyone filtered off to their rooms leaving the both of you to freely do whatever you wanted - within reason of course. You both got changed, your gaze admiring the hard lines of Haechans back. “Don’t stare.” He blushed, wrapping a towel around his upper body.

You pulled on your bikini which made Haechan go silent. You specifically picked this one because it brought out your skin tone well, and cupped your features beautifully. “Now who’s staring?”

It never failed. The butterfly feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when Haechan watched you with loving eyes. You wrapped a towel around your waist, allowing Haechans eyes to roam the tops of your breasts, peeking out from the almost too small bathing suit.

His cheeks turned pink once he noticed he was caught, “Let’s go”.

The hallways were quiet since it was almost midnight, so you wordlessly made your way down the stairs and out into the night air. It had grown considerably cooler than when guys first arrived that morning, but the sky made up for it. Pretty stars pricked the vast expanse of dark blue and black infinity. You could see the moon peaking out from behind a single cloud, casting a shadowed glow on Haechans honey skin.

The gate was closed when you walked up to it so you stopped to read, “Aw man, the pool closed an hour ago,” You set your lips in a pout, “no wonder the lights weren’t on.”

“Hey it’s okay, no lights, no cameras, they probably wont even notice we’re here if we keep quiet.” He moves closer to you, eyebrows raised expectant for an answer.

You hesitated wondering if you really could pull it off, after all you’d been looking forward to this for the whole day, “I don’t wanna get in trouble..”

“You said you wanted to swim and I’m going to make sure that happens,” He gets down on one knee, “step on my leg, I'm gonna help you jump the fence.”

He boots you over, and grabs your arms to help lower you on the other side, but his hand slips and his nails dig into your shoulder. “Ow, fuck.” You wince rubbing the spot he scratched.

“Sorry, sorry” He says giggling, jumping the fence with such quietness and ease that it looked unreal. “Come on, dare you to do a canon ball!?”

He ran ahead throwing his towel on one of the pool chairs and jumping in the water. You cringe away from the loud slap his body hitting the water made. You walk slowly to the chair, deeply inhaling the addictive chlorine scent.

He finally stands up waist deep in the water and pushes his hair back. The blue water reflected against him, making his skin sparkle. “Come into the water y/n” he splashed some water into your general direction, but not enough to touch you.

“Okay, Okay.” You drop the towel and slip into the water. It was cold. Really cold. You gasp and recoil away, but not fast enough, because Haechan has wrapped his arms around you and started carrying you towards the deep end. You struggle a bit in his grip but his arms provide an iron cage that you can’t get out of. “Haechan let me go!”

He presses a warm kiss to the back on your neck but doesn’t comply with your wishes, instead making a curve and bringing you towards the underwater benches. He fixes his hold on you so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. You stare up at him, water droplets falling off his chin. His eyes were already red from the chlorine and you hoped that it cleared up by tomorrow nights concert. His plush lips sat in a pout, strong jaw set. He was so very pretty; and all yours. You smiled to yourself, deciding to keep that image locked away in your memory forever.

Once he gets to the benches he sets you down and glides in beside you. “You know It’s colder than I thought it was going to be.” He lifts a hand and sheepishly rubs the back of heck, “and you look way hotter in that bikini than I thought you would.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a dig or a compliment.” You scoot closer to him so that your thighs were pressed against each other. Finding his hand underwater, you intertwine your fingers with his own.

“A compliment babe.” He chuckles and slouches in the water so that only his head sat above it. You both sit there for a moment until it becomes too cold to sit still.

“Well I’m going to put it to use and go swim.” You push off from the cement and paddle around. The only way to stay slightly warm was to keep moving. Haechan watched you, eyes crinkled in a smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It was fun to watch you play in the water but the bathing suit was making him think of other things you two could be doing.

And that was how it stayed. Haechan watching while you performed for him.

A while had passed, the calm exterior of the pool getting to you, making you drowsy. The cold blue water washed over your hands while you gently skimmed the surface, making your way over to where Haechan was. You hummed a short tune under your breath, trying to keep yourself distracted. it was close to one in the morning now, but Haechan still sat on the bench, slightly shivering from the brisk air, hands gripping his thighs under the water while his mind wandered far away from the present.

“Watcha thinkin’ about” you ask, moving closer to him, hoping to catch some lingering body warmth.

“Fucking you ,” he moved off the seat and dove under the surface, only leaving small ripples in his wake. You stand there for a second wonder how he could be so blunt, so forward in his desires; he was never like this.

He swam a single circle around your body before popping up in front of you, giving you a mini heart attack. He pushes you back against the tiled walls, “I’ve spent the last hour thinking about fucking you. Thinking about how pretty you’d sound.” His head dips down to kiss along your collarbone, and your hands grab the back of neck, holding him there while his tongue sucked bruises into your tender skin. His hands grazed the bare skin of your arms, giving you goosebumps.

He moaned into the side of your neck, biting and sucking away, wanting you to yearn for him like he did for you. He lifted his head so that his mouth hung over yours, his small puffs of breath fanning over your face while he tests the waters. “Can I kiss you?”

Without giving him an answer you pull him closer by the roots of his hair. His kissing was messy and sweet, and while your tongues moved together, his hips began rubbing circles against you, trying to gain some friction in the cool water. Small heavy breaths were the only sound you could hear, aside from the occasional splash as Haechan moved restlessly.

Your hand wandered down his chest and below the surface to where you could feel him straining against his shorts. You began to stroke him over the fabric, his hips pushing against your touch. He broke the kiss to watch as you peeled down the elastic from his hips, his cock freed from the restricting material of his swim shorts. You watched him twitch slightly as the cold water met his length.

“You can’t make any noise.” You place a single finger against his lips.

“No promises.” He whispers, a devilish smirk breaking way on his face. His hands caress you thighs, pushing your bottoms to the side. The cold water hit you, making you gasp and push into Haechan who just whimpers against your touch.

He tried to stay quiet, only soft grunts between gritted teeth and muffled moans as his hips pushed into your own. The water created resistance but it just enhanced how good he was feeling. He hurriedly grabs at your legs, pulling them up so that they sat around his waist. Your back dragged up the tiled walls, scraping your tender skin, but you could only focus on Haechans cock thrusting deeply in and out of you. He stared longingly into your eyes, filling you up completely, wanting to savor the way they fluttered in the back of your head.

“You love the way I fill you up huh?” He groans into your ear, a hand falling forward to grip the cement ledge of the pool.

You couldn’t respond without fear of moaning so you nod your head wildly. He began to bite and suck at your collarbone, pushing you closer to the edge. Looking down he sees your nipples, erect, poking through the wet fabric of your bathing suit. His eyes grow wide, hips stuttering into you. Fuck you were hot.

“Haechannie, I think I’m going to come.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Not yet.” He growls, hands moving to pin your wrists against the cement ledge, “Hold it princess, I know you can.” The water began to slosh around faster as Haechan thrusted harder into you. The sound was so loud its no wonder you didn’t hear the keys jangling against the hip of the guard making his way towards you two.

“Hey!,” he shouts running towards you, “The pool is closed! Get out! Are you two-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you and Haechan spring up out of fear and take off. It was easy to push yourself up onto the pool deck. The guard made the mistake of following you two and leaving the gate unattended. You and Haechan ran out, giggling, making your way back into the hotel. You didn’t stop until you got into the room and slammed the door behind you.

With your heart hammering in your chest you lean against the dark cherry wood . “Holy fuck we could’ve gotten in serious trouble.” You gasp out, clutching a hand against your wet bathing suit top.

“Babe we’ll be gone by morning, no one is gonna know.” Haechan paces in front of you trying to catch his breath. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, it was miracle he got them up in time.

“We’re so banned from this hotel.” A knock on the door makes you jump away from it, the worst of punishment's filling your mind. What were they going to do? They couldn’t arrest you, could they?

Haechan walks forward and turns the knob slowly, revealing a sleepy Doyoung. His oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder showing off his gaunt collarbone. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What do you want Doie?” you ask softly.

“How was getting chased by the guard?” he gives a sleepy chuckle, still half in his dreams.

“How did you-,” A look of realization hits Haechan, “You reported us?” He whined, pushing Doyoungs bare shoulder so that he stumbled back.

“Sound travels over water dumbasses and you guys were loud, I was trying to sleep!” Protesting, he pushes Haechans wet shoulder back.

“Well, now we’re going to be twice as loud.” Haechan slams the door in Doyoungs face and grabs you, throwing you on the bed. You give a squeal, and hear Doyoungs fist hit the door.

“I swear I’ll make a noise complaint.” He sounded more irritated than sleepy now.

“Go ahead, you’re just mad I’m getting laid and you aren't.” You playfully slap Haechans arm, but he nips at your hand. The other side of the door grows silent, Doyoung either going to report you two, or going back to his room defeated.

“Shall we pick up where we left off princess?”

[cable-knit-sweater]

Mayaaaaaa! *knocks on your window* are you alive in there???

That new photoshoot of Chris 🥵 I have thoughts. Many thoughts especially after the richy rich photos of Sebastian from this weekend. It feels like one of those Hallmarky movies.

Imagine this: rich CEO Seb is driving through MA on his way to some retreat or something that he's supposed to go to and find his zen after being totally stressed out. But his stupidly expensive car breaks down in this small town. Local mechanic Chris is there to fix it but it needs a part that'll take a day to come in. Chris offers Seb a place to stay at his farmhouse while he waits because they don't really have hotels.

There's homecooked food, lingering glances, horse riding through the beautiful countryside (it's autumn!). Lots of cosy sweaters, fireplaces and even pumpkin spiced lattes (which tastes better than any coffee chain Sebastian has ever been in).

Then Seb finds himself truly relaxing and enjoying himself for the first time in months - years even. Doesn't even check his emails once.

Oh, and they definitely have sex in that hayloft. Chris is picking out hay from Sebastian's hair with a soft chuckle, loving the way Seb looks in his borrowed clothes (those suits and shirts in Seb's suitcase were too formal).

Anyway - have a great day at work ✨ I'll be here when you need to flail 😘

Tej. I am barely alive. Just, hanging on by a thread, thank you very much for asking 😭😭😭😭

I too have many, many thoughts, most of them highly inappropriate and that my brain needs some more time to think through. Thankfully you’re much less unhinged than me and coming up with this BRILLIANT IDEA.

It’s frankly unfair for them to do this to us in such a short timespan. I’m still very far from being over how Seb looked at that event on Saturday, bc god damn he looked good 😫😫

And then to make it all worse, you ATTACK ME with this??? I am literally begging you to write this fic and also to never talk to me again bc what little was left of my mind has now combusted. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I can just SEE IT so clearly. I’m so weak for the idea of mechanic Chris, in his white tank with oil on his calloused hands, sweat dropping down his neck from a hard day at work, and Sebastian just needing a moment because how the fuck is he supposed to string words together into sentences when there’s this walking wet dream in front of him?

And when Chris does ask him to stay, he’s so eager to say yes, but also thinking this is probably the worst decision ever, because being in close quarters with Chris is going to be a challenge, to say the least. There’s no way Chris is into him - and Chris definitely thinks he’s some sort of spoiled brat at first.

But it actually turns out to be the best decision he’s ever made, because of all that you just said. They get to know each other pretty quickly. Chris makes him realize what the important things in life are, and he finally gets to relax. Of course there are lingering glances, home cooked meals and cosy sweaters. Chris giving him heated looks when Seb is wearing Chris’s clothes. Sebastian feeling absolutely overwhelmed with how this man isn’t just ruggedly handsome, but also incredibly sweet and caring, and a bit of a dork. They just click, and it’s like they’ve known each other forever, but also like this is what Sebastian had been waiting for forever, and desperately needed.

He definitely can’t believe his luck when after the tension builds and builds, they finally give in, and yes, have sex in a hay loft, probably all over the property really. He never really wants to leave.

I absolutely LOVE this whole idea and the fall vibes, and now you’ve written your first Evanstan fic, I NEED YOU to write this one next, pretty pretty please?? I’m gonna be thinking about this all day in between screaming, probably.

I love you and your genius brain so much 💕💕💕

[mc-lukanette]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

—————

A few days had passed since Marinette had burned the Adrien photos, and Luka was relieved to note that they hadn't come back since. Marinette seemed equally at ease, their daily calls becoming more and more relaxed with each time she told him about her still-empty wall. He did wish he could do a little more concerning the red string around her neck, but his mind was drawing a blank and she was happier than before regardless.

The main problem however, was the relation to the miraculouses. Everyone knew that Ladybug wasn't interested in Chat Noir, a fact that made the knowledge of the red string even worse. He wasn't sure if the red strings were tied to the miraculouses or not - or how if they were indeed connected - but he speculated that it was about more than just talking to Marinette about Adrien; Chat was a factor as well. He couldn’t imagine the societal pressure of Ladybug and Chat Noir being a couple, and no one had to do much research to realize that Chat Noir was okay with it while Ladybug was very much not.

He'd have to take on the red string from both sides of the masks, and it took one particular day for him to get his chance.

"You want me to go on patrol with you?"

Ladybug nodded, balancing herself on his windowsill as she replied, "If you'd like to. Chat Noir is busy tonight, so the position's opened and you're one of the people used to having a miraculous."

Luka caught himself before he could start smiling too much, knowing that it was Marinette under that mask and she wanted him to go on patrol because they were friends.

"I'd be honored to."

She beamed at him, and after the snake miraculous was on his wrist, he was transformed and the two set off for the rooftops together.

—————

Viperion glanced left and right as he went along with Ladybug. He'd been called enough by then to have gotten used to superheroing, though it was his first time actually on patrol. Given the situation they were in, he was thankful that Adrien was busy that particular night with what Viperion could only guess was Gabriel's orders.

The red string was still dangling around Ladybug's neck, though Viperion'd grown attuned enough with his fate sensing that he could stop focusing on it and simply see her if he chose to. It didn't stop him from thinking about it, but it helped.

Ladybug seemed to know the route to take, so he mostly followed after her, but it was partway through where she'd decided that they should take a break. Paris was always quiet right after akuma attacks, meaning that they could afford to take it easy since there'd been one just that afternoon.

They leaped buildings until they reached the Eiffel Tower, scaling the monument until they reached the top platform. He didn't miss that she'd avoided using her yoyo for the job, possibly to put them on an even playing field.

Letting out a breath, Ladybug leaned against the railing and she gazed over the city. Gesturing to the view, she explained, "We'll have a good vantage point from here in case anything happens."

Viperion chuckled. "You really do think of everything."

She blushed faintly, but took the compliment casually. "I'm just doing my job." She turned her hip to more easily grab her yoyo, then opened it and reached inside. "Anyway, are you hungry?"

He tilted his head in curiosity, then grinned as she pulled out a bag of macarons from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. It wasn't anything suspicious given that it was known as the best bakery around.

"Thanks," he replied gratefully, taking one of the macarons she offered him.

She grabbed one as well and they took a simultaneous bite of their respective treats. He was a little surprised to hear that she brought along snacks, but supposed it made sense if breaks during patrol were a common thing after akuma.

They settled down on the ground, Ladybug placing the open bag in-between them so they could pick them out at equal leisure. Tossing him an apologetic but teasing smile, she added, "Sorry, but cushions wouldn't fit in the yoyo."

He raised his brows at her, then glanced down at the hard ground below them. He snorted at her joke, noting, "It's nice to see you outside of akuma battles, where you can relax and play around more."

She smiled shyly at him, in a way that was so Marinette that he couldn't believe he hadn't figured her out sooner. "Thanks. Chat says I have no sense of humor."

He frowned, replying without hesitation, "Chat's wrong."

She waved him off, though he could tell that she appreciated the comment. Hearing that Chat had told her something like that was news to him, despite all the research he'd done into their relationship. Granted, he imagined that anything could be said off-camera and he couldn't have known.

"Does he say things like that a lot?" he asked, hoping he wasn't prodding too much. There was just something about how casually she'd said it that unnerved him.

"Huh?" She blinked, thrown off by the question, then rubbed the back of her neck. "Well... most of the time, he flirts instead. It's..." She hesitated, like she wasn't sure that she could talk about it. Glancing at him, then back to the open sky, she relented and added, "—it's a lot sometimes, but he does his job well enough, so it’s not like it’s a serious problem. I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve never wondered about the what ifs of having someone else, but whenever I think about it, I just—"

She squinted at nothing, Viperion's gaze flickering down to the string, which had became visible now that he was focusing on it.

It had tightened, pressing into the black of her bodysuit in a way only he could see, and he found himself squinting just like she was.

"—I can't imagine being Ladybug without him," she said.

He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress any reaction to the comment. He'd suspected it for a while, but actually seeing it was something else entirely.

The red string demanded dependency on Ladybug's part. He wasn't sure how much it pulled Chat on the other end, but judging from what he'd gathered from Marinette's luck and fate's blatant favoring of Adrien, he could guess.

Ladybug peeked up from her macaron when he remained silent, confusion passing over her features. "What? You look like you have something to say."

"Ah—" He looked down, brows furrowing as he hoped even more that he wasn't pushing boundaries. "—just... I know that he's been with you since the beginning, but I don’t think you need Chat Noir to be an amazing Ladybug."

She straightened, dropping her treat in surprise and then fumbling to catch it. Perhaps she hadn’t caught onto what her words implied, or had said them without thinking due to the string and was now facing it head-on.

He continued, "You've dealt with akuma plenty of times without him, and you work well with all your heroes. I'm sure you could make the best out of any partner you had." He smiled reassuringly at her. "Maybe Chat Noir only seems as good as he does because he's at your command."

Ladybug's cheeks tinted red, nearly matching her mask, as she ducked her head at the high praise. She raised the macaron back to her lips, chewing on it as if that helped hide her face.

It was only after she'd slowly nibbled the treat all the way down and swallowed that she replied, "T-thank you."

He shrugged, having only been honest.

"Chat Noir..." She cleared her throat. "Well, Paris would disagree with you."

"Paris is wrong too," he replied in the exact same tone as when he was discussing Chat. After careful consideration, he asked cautiously, "Do you mean how—"

"Yeah, the—" She frowned and waved both hands vaguely in a gesture that no one but him would've understood. "Yeah."

So she was all too aware of their status of a "couple" in the eyes of Parisians. It made sense with everything he already knew, but he hadn't wanted to be right.

The phrase she'd used when talking about Adrien resurfaced in his mind: made for each other.

He clenched his fist. She was being pressured on both sides of the mask, towards both sides of Adrien's mask.

"I don't like it," she admitted, "but Chat drinks it up and I guess the public is into the idea of this superhero couple. They see us like celebrities."

"It's not right," Viperion hissed, and Sass would've been proud of it. "You save Paris every week and you deserve to be respected."

"There's nothing I can do about it," she told him, almost in defeat. "Besides, Chat... he needs a pick-me-up every now and my pep talks don't always work on him. He pouted when I brought in a male hero for the first time."

"That's not your fault!" he argued. "Chat needs to be confident on his own. He can't keep relying on you or make you feel like you can't do anything without him doubting himself. You're under enough stress as it is, and—!"

He caught himself, his mouth shutting tight before he could reveal exactly how much he knew. Ladybug blinked at him, seeming puzzled by the outburst but not suspicious at least.

He took a breath, reminding himself to stay calm. Reaching back, he grabbed hold of his lyre and brought it in front of him, strumming a few notes and letting them settle the discordant song that was playing in his stomach.

"My point is... Chat shouldn't be someone adding onto the pressure. That's not a partnership."

Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes darting around as she processed his words. She looked conflicted.

"...I'm sorry," he added, settling his lyre in his lap. "Not for what I said, but—I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

"No, no." She shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest. "It's good that you did. I've actually—" Her voice grew quiet. "—been thinking about it lately."

"About what?"

She made the same vague gesture from before. "All of that. There's been a lot going on and it's given me a lot to think about."

He knew immediately what she meant.

"It's... frustrating," she groaned. "I don't like Chat that way. I mean, maybe sometimes he said or did something that I found charming, but that's just—not enough for me, you know? To only feel something like that for a second or two." She averted her gaze, growing distant. "Everyone seems to think we belong together, and... I hate that they might be right."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Well, I'm a hero; a permanent one. I need to be there all the time. Every akuma, every purification, every Miraculous Ladybug. Only I can do it." She hugged her legs closer, burying her face in her knees. "I want a relationship. I want someone to date and be close to, but I can't have it. I'm always running away; always going somewhere with some excuse so I can go deal with the akuma, and I can't tell anyone! Can you imagine how that'd make my date feel?"

He opened his mouth, but a thought occurred to him at the last second that gave him pause.

"You... so you think..."

Once again, he hoped to be wrong. He wanted so badly to be wrong.

But Ladybug looked up, her expression pained as she confirmed, "There's only one person I could be with where it wouldn't have to happen."

His blood ran cold, he felt sick, and the memory of the red string flashed in his mind, wrapped around Adrien's ring.

Fate didn't just tie her to him; it wanted to make her believe that he was her only choice.

Viperion's grip on his lyre tightened, his teeth grinding together behind closed lips as he tried to maintain an aura of calm. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was livid, and he silently wished that the face on the other side of the butterfly miraculous was the universe so he could give it a piece of his mind.

How could you do that? How could you take a girl who's always worked so hard and tried her best, and treat her like she's nothing? No, not nothing, because then at least she'd be left alone. How could you treat her like a plaything, as if she's some prize for a guy to win no matter what? How could you manipulate her to think that everything's her fault, just so she never thinks to fight back against the ones putting pressure on her?

What's love if it's gotten through such force?

"V-viperion?"

A hand falling upon his jolted him back to reality, his head snapping up to see Ladybug there, her pupils shrunken in and her brows knitted in worry. Whatever his face had looked like, it'd scared her.

His first instinct was to feel guilty. He was supposed to be comforting her, not making things worse by letting all of his emotions show on his face.

His second instinct...

He tossed his lyre off to the side, Ladybug's gaze briefly following it until his hands fell upon her shoulders. Her eyes widened, and she let out a squeak as he pulled her onto his lap and into a hug.

The only thing he was grateful for in terms of her superhero status was that he could hug her as tightly as possible without hurting her.

"A-ah..." She seemed tempted to say something, but fell silent soon after and hugged him back, burying her face into the side of his neck. He felt her strength in the way she squeezed him, like she was starved for his affection despite them being in a similar position not too long ago.

He understood. Before, they were tackling her problems when she was Marinette, but Ladybug had never had someone to personally confide in concerning Chat.

She'd needed this.

"You already do so much," he whispered. "You should be allowed to be with whoever you want, and you shouldn't have to settle when it comes to love."

She sighed against him, like she knew deep down that he was right. "You don't know how bad it could get. Some hypothetical boyfriend wouldn't deserve that kind of treatment."

"I get why you'd feel that way," he said, "but I'd hope that this hypothetical boyfriend would know that you're worth it."

Her fingers twitched against his spine. "...You don't even know me."

"I know that you're creative. I know you're smart. I know you work harder than anyone else to keep Paris safe. I know you have a right to feel however you want, and if you think you need to earn being with someone who's not Chat, then you've more than done that." He slid his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. "I also know that you'll find a way to make it work, if you put in even half the care into it as you put into Paris."

"Vi—" She paused, her voice softening. "Luka..."

They stayed like that for a while, the bag of macarons going untouched an arm's reach away. Viperion just held her, sensing that she was feeling out what he'd said and that they didn't need words for it. That was fine with him; her love life was none of his business. He only wanted to help her have the choice to live it.

A breeze blew by, their bodysuits protecting them from the wind chill factor as their hair was lightly shifted by the gentle air. Ladybug stirred, letting out a noise like she felt personally slighted by the wind, then pushed herself up, her hands on his shoulders as she pulled away from him.

"We...we should get back to patrol," she admitted.

He offered her a small smile, noting that she seemed to be in better spirits at least. "Alright." He let her out of his lap, leaning over to the side to pick up his lyre.

He heard her retreating footsteps, along with a light, "You can keep the macarons."

He glanced up at her, surprised. "Are you sure?" he asked, knowing that he was mostly responsible for them not eating all of them. "Is that what you usually do on your breaks: let Chat have them?"

"Oh." She stood awkwardly in place, looking off at the sky before dropping her gaze to the ground. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she grinned sheepishly and replied, "Actually..."

He tilted his head, curious.

She peeked over at him, eyes half-lidded as she told him, "I've never done this with Chat."

He raised his brows, as if that would make her clarify, but she simply turned away from him and started doing a few stretches, clearly prepping to head back out.

Pursing his lips in thought, Viperion turned his back to her, giving attention to the little plastic bag resting neatly on the ground. Even though it was open, the little ribbon that had held it shut was still around it, suddenly feeling more special now that Ladybug had said something so... cryptic.

He looked out at the view they had, then Ladybug, then back at the bag, feeling extremely slow on the uptake as his brain pieced things together based on what information he had.

Then, suddenly his brain supplied: Wait... was this a date?

He buried the thought just as quickly, shaking his head and scolding himself for jumping to that so fast.

"Are you ready to go back to leaping rooftops?" Ladybug asked behind him, her tone light even if she was still in her own head.

"Yeah," Viperion replied, picking up the little bag like it was something precious. Hoping to lighten things further, he then added, "I'm new to this, so I might lag behind."

She chuckled. "You might. Apparently I'm a really amazing hero according to someone I know."

He grinned to himself. Even if she was just teasing, it felt good to hear her compliment herself in a way.

He had just tightened the ribbon to seal the bag back up, listening to the sound of Ladybug's foosteps, when he felt a sudden niggling sensation at the back of his head, or—behind him? He turned, puzzled, then leaped up as he caught sight of a teal wisp in Ladybug's path.

He rushed over as she yelped and tripped over what would seem like nothing according to her. Catching her just in time, he also realized belatedly that it may've been an overreaction, given that she was in superhero form; he could only blame it on reflex.

Ladybug stood up with a start, covering the lower half of her face in shame. "Ugh, that was so embarrassing, I'm sor—"

"It's not your fault," he hurried to say, not explaining further as he grew lost in thought, staring silently at the place where the wisp had formed itself.

He hadn't just seen the wisps this time; he had sensed them. That was new, and he wouldn't have questioned a new addition to his fate sensing had it not been the fact that he hadn't particularly done anything as Viperion; it usually took an instance or two of him using his power for something to manifest, but here...

He glanced up when he realized that Ladybug was looking at him curiously. Debating with himself for a moment, he ultimately trusted his gut and met her gaze, asking,

"Do you mind if I talk to Sass again after this?"

[shiftylinguini]

Ooooo. Can I try a prompt 'why is it so dark?' HP. Any pairing you desire, although I'm fond of Drarry, Jeddy and Perciver. No worries if this doesn't spark anything! Take care.

HI @skeptiquex I love this, thank youuuuu! Please enjoy this short Jeddy nonsense (that I am posting right now instead of leaving it in my drafts until I decide I hate it). Xxx

General premise: Teddy is a big deal, James is a fan. Having a crush is fucking exhausting. 

::::::::::

Whys it so dark 

James hits send and lies back on his bed, cool as a cucumber. Not really, he's trying not to hyperventilate, but hopefully his carefully curated lack of punctuation will make it seem like he's channeling cucumber. 

Teddy probably won't reply. He already has 6 million comments (roughly, James isn't counting) and he only posted the photo an hour ago. It's him, smiling over his dinner, being generally hot, ruining James's life (and several other people's too, judging by the level of thirst comments he's garnering. James lied, he is counting.) 

Teddy's always been hot. Even in his awkward, gangly teenage phase, he still had it going on as far as James was concerned. Maybe it's the age gap that meant that whatever stage James was going through, Teddy was going through the accompanying cool version of it. 

It was only when he got older that's he put together that thinking Teddy was perpetually cool, and great, and amazing, and fit, and smart―was called having a fucking crush on him. 

At eighteen, that was a devastating revelation, but now at twenty one it's just…exhausting. He just can't be normal around Teddy. Teddy says, "hey we hang out a bit now you're older, we drink, add me so I can tag you in my photos!" and James says yeah sure, like a dickhead, and now he's stuck here, a week later, leaving borderline rude comments on his God brother's stupidly popular post from his stupidly popular account in front of all his thousands of cool followers. 

He shouldn't have capitalised the w. If he was going for casual and devoid of punctuation and grammar, then he should have committed. Teddy's gonna see right through him. 

James is a dickhead. He needs to learn to be normal. Teddy is his friend, or something. Crushes burn out, right? 

James sighs and puts his feet up on his coffee table. It makes a worrying creak, but doesn't break, so that's a win. He Summons his wand from the back of the sofa (oops) and some crisps from the pantry (yayy) and wiggles his toes as he flicks the telly on. 

He can be normal. He can be chill. He's not gonna obsess over this. 

"Fuck!" His phone pings and James dives on it like the proverbial Potter on a Snitch. He's not chill, he never was, it was all a lie. 

He's got a comment reply from Teddy. And a pending heart attack. He shoves a cheese and onion crisp in his mouth, so he can at least have a delicious death. 

Ha ha its squid ink, idiot, Teddy's written, along with a string of emojis: a squid, the spaghetti, an octopus for some reason, and a laugh cry. And a heart. 

James files that last one away to obsess over later. 

One of James's best, and worst, qualities (depending who you ask, and what day of the week it is) is his impulsiveness. He's neurotic, but he's also got borderline 0 impulse control, and that's kicked into full gear when he replies: so it's meant to look like concrete? 

That might be funny. Is that funny? Whatever  the pasta does look road-adjacent. James soothes himself with more crisps. 

He's just considering that he might obsess over the heart emoji now, actually (he's finished half his bag of crisps, his schedule is free) when he gets a DM. 

Have you really never had squid ink pasta before??

James is frozen, sucking cheese and onion flavour remnants of his thumb. He's stuck like this forever. 

Nope, he replies with his non-chip hand. His phone vibrates on his thigh again just as James is extracting his thumb from his mouth and his head from his arse. 

It's good!! 

Prove it, James replies before he can stop himself, and then realises its both extremely flirtatious and kind of jerky. That's apparently his thing today. Fuck. 

Come with me next time and I'll buy it for you x 

"Oh no," James mumbles. He should have left his thumb in his mouth, or possibly shoved his whole hand in there, and his phone with it. He's fucked. 

That was a flirty reply. Was it? Yes. Probably. A kiss is flirty. But Teddy is Teddy and is just being nice, most likely, and broadening his baby Godbrother's food horizons via squid juice and flour. 

James replies, I'm free Friday and you're definitely paying x , chucks his phone on the floor and goes to stand outside and take a few (several) deep breaths. 

[spencersawkward]

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay. 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie. 

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?! 

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since. 

or, really, for your cat to try it. 

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.  

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[wkemeup]

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.  

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels. 

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”  

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”  

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.  

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.  

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.  

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.  

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.  

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.  

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.  

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.  

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.  

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.  

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.  

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.  

This was different.  

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.  

It was infuriating.  

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.  

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.  

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.  

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.  

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.  

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.  

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.  

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”  

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.  

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.  

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.  

You’d care.  

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.  

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.  

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.  

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.  

“Can I help you, young man?”  

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.  

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…  

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.  

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.  

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side. 

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”  

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.  

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.  

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.  

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.  

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.  

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.  

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.  

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”  

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.  

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.  

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.  

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.  

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”  

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.  

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.   

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.  

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.  

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.  

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.  

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.  

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.  

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.  

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.  

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.  

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.  

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.  

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.  

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.  

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.  

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”  

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.  

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.  

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.  

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?  

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.  

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.  

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.  

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.  

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.  

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.  

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”  

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.  

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.  

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.  

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.  

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.  

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.  

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.  

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.  

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.  

All he knew was that he wanted more.