#anyways so moments after this the machine breaks in half

[askblueandviolet]

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[capquinn]

Two Hearts | Q. Hughes

summary: you and quinn drift apart, only to be drawn back together, held by a quiet, unspoken pull that lingers even after the breakup. it’s a constant ebb and flow, where the pain of separation and the comfort of reunion blur together, making it hard to truly let go. pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: lovers to exes, angst, just super sad in general word count: 8.3k note: i've been listening to birch by big red machine and what's left of me by grace vanderwaal a lot at the moment and the next thing i knew i was writing a breakup fic. anyway, godspeed! ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

When you first met, it was like falling into step with someone who already knew the rhythm of your heart. You were always together, moving through life side by side, sharing the little moments and the big ones, too. He was your person, the one you called with every piece of news, good or bad, the one you turned to without a second thought. And for a while, it felt like you’d found something unbreakable, a connection so strong it seemed like nothing could touch it.

But slowly, things changed. There wasn’t a single moment or a reason you could pinpoint, just a gradual drifting apart, like you were both holding onto something that was already slipping away. You both knew it, but neither of you wanted to say it out loud, as if giving voice to the growing distance between you would make it real, would make it impossible to ignore. So, you held on, hoping that things might shift back, that the comfort and ease you’d once shared would return. But it never did.

Eventually, you both knew what had to be done. The breakup wasn’t loud or dramatic; there were no screaming fights or betrayals. It was just the painful acceptance that something that once felt infinite had an end. You’d sat across from each other, trying to find the right words, but all that came out were half-smiles and empty reassurances, promises to stay friends, to still care. The kind of promises you both knew were hollow, meant to soften the blow but only making it sting more. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The bar is buzzing, a steady hum of laughter and clinking glasses, your friends leaning into the evening with carefree energy that you’re trying your best to match. You’re at a table near the back, surrounded by people, but the only thing that holds your attention is the TV mounted high on the wall, where the Canucks game plays on in vivid colour.

You hadn’t planned on watching, had spent the past few weeks avoiding his games entirely ever since the break up, even changing your route to work to bypass Rogers Arena and the massive banners that displayed his face. But here, in this bar, the game is impossible to ignore. 

You’re nursing a drink that’s lost its chill, your eyes drawn back to the screen again and again, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Maybe it’s the few drinks you’ve had, or the way your friends seem preoccupied with their own conversations, but for a moment, you let yourself lean into the pull.

You scan the bench, looking for the familiar outline of his face, the way he used to smile just before the game started, that quiet confidence you knew so well.

And then, as if the universe heard your silent plea, there he is.

The camera lingers on him, and he’s just sitting there, helmet off, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. The sight of him after so many weeks avoiding him is so sudden that it hits you like a punch to the chest, the pain of missing him crashing over you in relentless waves. He looks good — strong, steady, like the man you fell in love with. 

You sink further back into your chair, your chest tightening, and you feel the sting of tears welling up, but you blink them away. The last thing you need is for your friends to see, to ask questions, to try to distract you with shallow reassurances that you know won’t help. You’re here with them, but in this moment, you feel impossibly alone, wrapped up in a silence that even the loudest crowd can’t break.

It’s strange, this hurt. You thought time would soften it, would dull the edges, but instead, it feels sharper than ever. You’re hit with memories of all the times you’d cheered him on from the stands. The pride that would swell in your chest as he skated out onto the ice, the way he’d look up at you after a win, his smile saying more than words ever could. And now, here you are, watching him from a distance, a stranger in a bar, trying to reconcile the person you knew with the one you’re seeing now.

One of your friends nudges you, pulling you back to the present. You manage a smile, nodding along as they talk about something trivial, something that barely registers as you try to focus, try to be here with them. But it’s useless. The only thing you can feel is the cold, empty space where he used to be, the sense that you’re still tethered to him, still bound by a connection that won’t let you go, no matter how hard you try.

You glance at the screen one last time, watching as the camera shifts, capturing him from a different angle, and it’s like he’s right there, close enough to touch, yet impossibly far away.

You pull your gaze away, focusing on your drink, trying to steady your breath, trying to shake the feeling that you’ll never really be free of him. Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how many miles or weeks separate you, it feels like he’s still there, a constant presence that haunts you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn drops his duffel bag by the door, letting out a long, slow breath. He’s just come off a stretch of back-to-back games, all of them wins, and the rush of adrenaline from the ice still lingers, though it’s beginning to fade now.

The apartment is dark and silent, and it feels colder than he remembers. It’s the first real stretch of time away since the season started back up and since the breakup, and the silence feels more profound than ever.

This is the part he used to look forward to — coming home, dropping his things, feeling the weight of the road lift from his shoulders as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

But now, that sense of relief is nowhere to be found.

He flips on a light, and the glow seems almost too harsh, too bright against the empty space. It wasn’t like this before. He’d come home from these trips and find you there, waiting for him, a warm smile on your face and something simmering on the stove, like you’d been anticipating his return all day. The routine was one he hadn’t even realised he’d come to rely on. He’d walk through the door, and the world outside would fall away, replaced by the comfort of you, by the way you’d wrap him in your arms and hold him tight, as if to say, you made it back. You’re home now.

But tonight, there’s no one waiting for him. Just the echo of his own footsteps and the faint hum of the fridge. He heads into the kitchen, out of habit more than anything, and opens the cabinet. There it is, your favourite mug, still in its place, untouched since you left. He closes the door, pushing down the ache that rises in his chest. The space is the same, but it feels foreign without you there, without the sounds and scents that made it feel like more than just a place to sleep between games.

He moves to the couch and sits down, staring at the blank TV screen. There are still traces of you everywhere, even though it’s been months. He hasn’t had the heart to remove them, as if by keeping these small reminders around, he can pretend, just for a moment, that nothing has changed. But it has, and he feels it in every inch of the apartment, in every corner that once held your presence, now empty.

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushion, and tries to breathe through the quiet. He’s used to routines, to schedules, to the grind that keeps him going, but no amount of preparation could brace him for the silence that waits for him here. 

The season is in full swing, and he’s supposed to be focused, sharp, ready for every game. But sitting here, with the emptiness pressing in on him, he wonders if he’ll ever really shake this feeling, if the apartment will ever feel right again.

He knows he should get up, unpack, settle back in, but he can’t bring himself to move. Instead, he sits there, letting the silence stretch out, knowing that it’s just another part of what he has to face now.

Another piece of you he has to let go.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s a chilly evening downtown, but the bar is warm, buzzing with people, laughter, and the steady thrum of music. Quinn is surrounded by his buddies, all of them relaxed, sharing drinks and catching up like they used to. It’s the first time in months he’s felt something close to normal. The weight he’s been carrying seems to have lifted, and for the first time since the breakup, he can feel himself starting to breathe again. He even catches himself laughing, really laughing, at something one of his friends says, and it feels good. He feels almost like himself again.

As the night goes on, his friends nudge him, pointing out a girl at the bar — a brunette, leaning casually against the counter, a slight smile playing on her lips as she looks his way.

“She’s cute,” his friend says, giving him an encouraging nudge. “Go talk to her, man. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

Quinn hesitates, glancing over at her. She is cute, and a part of him wonders if maybe he should. Maybe it’s time to try, to start moving forward for real. He takes a breath, thinking he could do it, just walk over and strike up a conversation, let himself take a step into something new.

But as he watches her, a strange feeling begins to settle in his stomach. He feels off, like something isn’t right, like he’s crossing a line he can’t quite see but knows is there. He looks down, his fingers tapping against the side of his glass as the ache starts to creep back, that dull, familiar ache that he thought he’d left behind. 

It doesn’t feel right. It feels like betrayal, like he’s letting go of something he doesn’t want to lose, even if he knows it’s already gone. And suddenly, you’re there, filling his mind, your laughter, your smile, the way you used to look at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. He realises he’s not ready — not for this, not for anything new. Because it still hurts, even if he thought it didn’t. It still feels like he’s leaving a part of himself behind.

He shakes his head, offering his friends a small smile. “Nah, I’m good,” he says, pushing away from the bar. “Not tonight.”

His friend raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t press, just claps him on the shoulder, his expression softening. “Alright, man. No rush. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

Quinn nods, grateful that his friends don’t push it further. He stays with them for a while longer, listening to the conversations, trying to immerse himself back into the lightness of the evening, but it doesn’t quite work. The feeling lingers, a quiet ache that sits heavy in his chest, and he knows he can’t ignore it.

Later that night, when he’s walking back to his apartment, he pulls out his phone, his fingers hovering over your name in his contacts. He knows he probably shouldn’t, knows that reaching out might only reopen old wounds, but he can’t help himself. He needs to know if you’re feeling it too, if maybe, somewhere in the silence between you, there’s still something left.

He types out a message, keeping it simple, but the words still feel heavy, loaded with everything he can’t quite say: Hey. Just wanted to check in. Hope you’re doing okay.

He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the send button, wondering if it’s a mistake. But in the end, he sends it, letting the message fly out into the silence, hoping that somehow, it finds its way to you, and maybe, just maybe, you’re thinking of him too.

As he walks the empty streets back to his apartment, Quinn's phone buzzes in his hand, lighting up with a notification. He stops, heart skipping a beat as he reads your name on the screen. He hadn't expected a response — not tonight, maybe not at all. He'd half-convinced himself that you were moving on, that the silence between you was something you both needed, even if it was painful.

But there it is: your message. His chest tightens, relief and trepidation flooding through him as he swipes to read it. 

Hey, I’m doing alright. Thanks for checking in. Hope you’re okay too. 

It’s simple, almost too simple, but he can feel the weight of it, the way it wraps around him, bringing back memories he’d been trying so hard to push down.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his grip tightening on the phone as he reads your words again. He can almost hear your voice saying them, that familiar tone that used to bring him so much comfort. 

Quinn leans against a lamppost, the cold seeping through his jacket, but he barely feels it. He’s lost in the past, in flashes of you laughing beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, the way you’d curl into him like you belonged there, like you always would. The distance between you has been unbearable, and as much as he’d thought he was moving on, your message reminds him just how deep the ache goes, how much he misses you in ways that he thinks no one else can fill.

He thinks about replying, about saying something that might bridge the gap between you, something that might crack open the door that he knows is probably better left closed.

But his fingers hover over the screen, unsure, caught between the pull of wanting to say everything and the fear of saying too much.

Getting there, he types, pausing as he considers the truth of those words. Then he adds: I miss talking to you.

He sends it before he can overthink, and as he waits for a reply, a nervous energy builds in his chest. The night feels colder now, lonelier, as if the silence between you is stretching even further, more pronounced. The moments pass, each one a reminder of what he’s hoping to find in your response, and he knows he’s standing on fragile ground, balancing on the edge of everything he’s been trying to let go.

The phone buzzes again, and he glances down, his heart pounding as he reads your reply. 

Yeah, me too. It feels strange not having you around.

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut, the raw truth in them piercing through the layers of resolve he’d tried to build up over these months. He looks up at the night sky, the city lights hazy in the distance, and he wonders if this is how it will always be: an endless loop of trying to move on, only to be pulled back to you, back to the place where everything feels right but is so undeniably broken.

He feels a shiver run through him as he reads your reply, the simple admission that things feel strange without him, that you miss him too. It's enough to reignite that small, flickering hope he’s been trying to ignore, the one that tells him maybe, somehow, there’s still a way back.

He types out a response, his fingers moving almost on their own, trying to capture the words that have been caught in his chest for months.

I thought I was moving on, but I still miss you. More than I want to admit, he writes, his thumb hesitating over the send button. But then he sends it, and the words are out there, suspended in the space between you, a bridge he can’t cross back over now.

He waits, his phone clutched in his hand, eyes glued to the screen. The minutes tick by, the cold night air biting at him, but he doesn’t move. He keeps checking the screen, hoping to see the familiar three dots, a sign that you’re there, that you’ve read his message and maybe, just maybe, you’re willing to give him something in return.

But the dots never appear, and as the silence stretches on, the hope begins to fade, replaced by a creeping sense of dread.

He reads the message back to himself, the rawness of it hitting him harder now, and he realises that he’s laid himself bare, offered up the part of himself he’s been keeping close, only to be met with silence.

He tells himself that maybe you’re busy, that maybe you’ve fallen asleep. That there’s some reason you haven’t responded. But deep down, he knows. He knows that sometimes, silence is its own kind of answer. It’s own kind of goodbye. He knows that if you’d wanted to respond, you would have. That maybe, despite everything, you’re trying to move on in a way he’s not ready for.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The back-and-forth between you and Quinn has been a fragile line, a balancing act that neither of you seem quite ready to step away from. It’s like you’re both holding onto opposite ends of a rope, loosening your grip just enough to let a little slack, but never fully letting go.

Since the breakup, you’ve exchanged a few messages, each one carefully crafted, as if testing the waters of where you now stand. 

At first, there was the occasional check-in. He’d reached out to wish your mom a happy birthday, a thoughtful gesture that tugged at old memories. You’d replied with a simple thank you, feeling a strange mixture of comfort and unease. A few weeks later, you found yourself wishing him luck for the hockey season, the words feeling heavier than they should. He replied quickly, but there was a hesitation you could almost feel in the silence that followed, an echo of all that was left unsaid. 

And then there were the spontaneous moments — the TikTok you sent one night, hoping it would make him laugh the way it used to, or the photo he’d shared of a sunset from his apartment window, captioned only with, thought you’d like this. These small, seemingly insignificant messages were like tiny threads, keeping you tethered to each other, never fully apart. You both knew the connection lingered, an unspoken acknowledgment that some bonds don’t break so easily.

In the spaces between these moments, you’d both tried to create new routines, to carve out separate paths. You stopped going to the places you used to frequent together, started exploring new spots with friends, hoping it would help you move on. You’d heard through mutual friends that he was doing the same — choosing different haunts, finding new ways to fill his days. 

You’d both done well to avoid each other for the most part, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your paths would cross again, as if the universe was waiting for the perfect moment to throw you back together.

And then it happens. You’re leaving your favourite coffee shop, the one you’d almost forgotten you shared, tucked into a quiet street just far enough from the city’s usual hustle. You’re caught up in a joke your friend just told, the warmth of laughter still lingering as you push open the door, balancing a cup in one hand and a bag in the other. But when you glance up, there he is, walking towards the door, his eyes finding yours in an instant. The laughter fades, replaced by the hollow thud of your heart in your chest as you both freeze, caught in a moment that feels both inevitable and surreal.

Neither of you move, and for a beat, the world narrows to just the two of you, standing face-to-face in the place that once felt like your own little corner of the world.

It’s awkward, disconcerting, like an unexpected reminder of a past that still holds you both in its grip. And as you hold his gaze, you realise that despite all the little steps you’ve both taken to move forward, you’re both still here, tangled up in the threads of a something that feels far from over.  

He’s alone, a few stray raindrops clinging to his jacket from the drizzle outside. There’s a split second of something unreadable in his expression — surprise, maybe even a little hesitation, before he recovers, offering a small, polite smile. It’s so painfully familiar, that half-smile of his.

Your friend shifts beside you, sensing the change in the air, and gives you a quick, curious glance. You manage a strained smile in return, glancing back at Quinn as you exchange awkward hellos.

“Hey,” he says, his voice just loud enough to cut through the ambient noise, yet soft enough that it feels intimate. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, aware of how forced your tone sounds. “How about you?”

“Yeah, can’t complain,” he says with a shrug, his hands sliding into his pockets, and for a moment, he looks like the Quinn you used to know. The one who was always a little awkward, a little unsure. 

There’s a brief pause, a tension hanging between you as you both struggle for words. He clears his throat, glancing toward the barista before meeting your eyes again.

“It’s been a while,” he says, his voice a little too even, like he’s carefully measuring each word. It feels strangely formal, like you’re two strangers making small talk instead of two people who once shared everything.

“Yeah,” you nod, shifting awkwardly. “It has.”

The conversation stalls there, the weight of what neither of you are saying settling uncomfortably between you. It’s weird, this distance — how you can be standing so close to someone you once knew inside and out, yet feel miles apart.

You don’t know where to look, your eyes darting from his face to the floor to the cup in your hand, as if it might hold the answers you can’t seem to find.

He shuffles slightly, one hand still gripping the coffee shop door, the other hovering at his side like he’s not sure what to do with it. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but the words don’t come, and you can see the same uncertainty reflected in his eyes, the same hesitation that’s keeping you both on the edge of this awkward dance.

The silence stretches, and in the back of your mind, a question gnaws at you, growing louder with each passing second: Do you still miss me? It’s the only thing you really want to ask. Because I still miss you. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Neither of you can.

Instead, you both linger in the spaces between, skirting around the edges of what you really want to say, pretending this is just a normal, chance encounter and not a painful reminder of what’s been lost.

Your chest tightens, and you can feel the ache creeping in, the unrelenting pull of everything that was left unresolved.

“It’s good to see you,” you finally offer, your voice quieter than you intended, the words feeling hollow, insufficient.

“Yeah,” he replies, his gaze softening for just a moment, and you swear you see something flicker in his eyes — something like longing, or maybe regret. “You too.”

Another beat of silence passes, heavy and thick, and then, almost simultaneously, you both step aside to let the other pass. It’s a messy, awkward shuffle, both of you trying to avoid making it worse, and for a second, your hand brushes against his. The contact is brief, fleeting, but it sends a rush of emotion through you that you’re not prepared for. 

You step back, swallowing the lump in your throat, wishing you had the courage to say what you’re really feeling. But instead, you just give him a tight smile, and he nods, stepping past you toward the counter.

As you walk out the door, the familiar sound of the coffee shop bell ringing behind you, you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too — the strangeness, the heaviness. The way this brief, awkward exchange only seems to deepen the ache.

And though you know the moment has passed, the words you didn’t say still echo in your mind, reverberating like a question left hanging in the air.

Do you still miss me?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s a rainy evening, the kind of night where you’d rather stay home with a book or a movie, something comforting to fill the quiet. But your friends convinced you that it was time to get back out there, that you deserved to have a little fun, to meet someone new.

You sit there, trying to muster up an interest in the conversation, but everything about the date feels off. The sushi restaurant is beautiful, the lighting warm and inviting, though you feel strangely out of place.

Your date is nice — polite, even a little charming, but there's something about him that feels hollow, like you’re both playing parts in a scene that doesn’t quite fit.

He smiles, asking about your work, your hobbies, the little details of your life, and you respond automatically, going through the motions as best you can. He’s handsome, with an easy laugh and a quick wit, and you know, objectively, that he’s a good guy. But as he talks, you can’t help but compare each small gesture to Quinn, feeling the disappointment settle deeper each time he falls short.

When he leans back in his seat, his posture casual, he doesn't reach for you, doesn't offer that familiar brush of his knee against yours. You realise that you've been waiting for it, anticipating a touch that never comes, and with each passing second, the absence grows more glaring. With Quinn, there was always an unspoken connection, a natural pull that kept you close, like your bodies knew how to find each other even in a crowded room. But here, with this stranger, there's only an empty space that feels too wide and too cold.

You remember how Quinn would glance at you between bites, his eyes softening as he leaned in just a little closer, the quiet smiles that would pass between you like a secret language only you two shared. He had this way of making you feel seen, of making even the smallest moment feel significant. But tonight, everything feels forced, every word an effort, and you find yourself retreating further into memories of Quinn, of the way he made even the most ordinary dinners feel like something special.

Your date tries to fill the silence, laughing as he tells another story, his voice rising with enthusiasm, but it only makes the space between you feel more hollow. With Quinn, you never had to fill the silences. They were easy, comforting, a shared understanding that allowed you to simply be, without the need for constant words. But now, the silence feels heavy, a reminder of everything you’ve lost. 

He catches your distant expression, tilting his head with a look of concern. "You alright?” he asks, his voice gentle, and for a moment, you feel guilty, like you’re betraying him by not being fully present, by comparing him to a past he can’t compete with.

You force a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just…tired. Must be the weather or something,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re not quite true. It’s not tiredness; it’s the ache of missing Quinn, of sitting here with someone else and realising that the bar had been set so high, you’re not sure anyone else can reach it.

The date continues, but it feels like you’re moving through water, each word weighed down by the memories you can’t shake. When he offers you a bite of his food, finally, you want to feel grateful, but even that feels off — like a poor imitation of the way Quinn would share his plate with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he watched your reaction, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary.

And as the night wears on, you start to feel a strange sadness, a quiet understanding that you’re not ready for this, not yet. Maybe it’s too soon, or maybe it’s that you’re still carrying Quinn with you, a weight that makes every interaction feel too forced. The date ends, and he offers to walk you to your car, but you decline, needing the solitude, the chance to step out into the rain and let the cool air clear your mind.

You slip into your car, the familiar hum of the engine a small comfort as you pull out onto the quiet streets. You could head straight home, but the thought of returning to an empty apartment feels too daunting right now. Instead, you take the long way, winding through the city with no real destination in mind, just the soft glow of the streetlights and the rhythmic sweep of the wipers cutting through the drizzle.

Quinn is all you can think about. It’s strange, this pull he still has on you. You wonder if it’s supposed to be like this. If this ache is a normal part of moving on after spending so long with someone who became a part of your world. You had shared so much — the good and the bad, the mundane and the beautiful. He had seen you at your best and at your worst, and now, even the smallest things feel out of place without him. You’re not sure if you’ll ever feel quite normal again, and if there’s ever a way to fill the space he left behind.

You find yourself circling back towards your neighbourhood, the rain picking up again as you pull into your driveway. The car is quiet now, save for the soft ticking of the engine cooling down, and you sit there, letting the weight of the evening settle over you. 

You sit there for a while, the rain tapping softly against the windows, and before you know it, you’re reaching for your phone. You don’t want to tell him about the date, about how out of place you felt — there’s no point in bringing that up. But you can’t shake the urge to reach out, to bridge the distance with something small, something that feels familiar. 

You type out a simple message, something that feels safer, something that isn’t about the night or the ache it left behind:

Just wanted to say hi. I hope you’re doing well.

It’s casual, almost impersonal, but as you read it over, you feel a tiny sense of relief. It’s enough to reach out, and to say something without opening wounds that haven’t quite healed. You don’t want to give him too much, but you can’t keep holding onto the silence, either. You hit send, feeling your heart quicken as the message goes through.

The rain continues to fall as you wait, unsure if he’ll reply. You know he might not, that he’s probably moved on in ways you haven’t yet. And you know that whatever comes next, you’ll have to face it, step by step, without letting him fill the spaces you’re supposed to fill yourself. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s late, and the city is wrapped in the soft glow of Christmas lights, the streets lined with decorations that should feel festive but instead make the loneliness press down harder.

You wander back to your apartment, past shop windows filled with ornaments and garlands, through a crowd of strangers bustling with bags of gifts, their laughter ringing out like echoes of a life you don’t quite belong to. The air is crisp, biting at your cheeks, and with every step, you feel the emptiness settling in deeper, gnawing at the edges of your heart.

You reach your building, climbing the familiar stairs, and as you push open the door to your apartment, you’re greeted by the silence. It’s the same stillness that has greeted you for months, but tonight, it feels heavier, more oppressive. You set your keys down, shrugging off your coat, and glance around at the empty rooms, the walls adorned with a few half-hearted decorations you’d put up in a moment of optimism. But they only serve as reminders that you’re here alone, far from the warmth of family, from the comfort of familiarity.

You sit on the edge of your bed, your phone in your hand, and before you even realise it, you’re scrolling through your contacts, your thumb hovering over his name.

Quinn.

You can almost hear his voice, the way it would ground you, steady and reassuring, cutting through the quiet like a lifeline. He’s been your person, the closest thing to family in this city, and though you know you shouldn’t, you know that calling him will only complicate things, you can’t shake the longing, the ache that’s been building all night.

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling as you press call, and the ringing fills the silence, each tone making your heart race, a mix of anticipation and regret. But there’s also a strange sense of relief, a fleeting comfort in knowing that he’s just on the other side, that he’ll answer, because he always does. You know it’s selfish, reaching out like this, when you’ve both been trying so hard to move on, but tonight, the loneliness is too sharp, the absence of him too much to bear.

He picks up on the second ring, his voice soft and familiar, and in an instant, the loneliness fades, replaced by the warmth that only he can bring.

You close your eyes, leaning back, letting the sound of his voice wash over you, anchoring you in a way that nothing else has since you left. You make small talk, the words simple, but there’s a comfort in them, a reminder of all the late-night conversations you used to have, when he was the person you’d always call, the person who made you feel like you weren’t alone in the world.

“Hey, everything OK?” he asks, his voice soft and warm, as if he can sense the tremor in yours, the way the silence on your end stretches a beat too long.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, though the words feel thin, fragile, as if they might shatter at any moment. You hesitate, searching for the right words, but all that comes is the truth, raw and heavy. “Just... wanted to hear a familiar voice. The holidays feel different this year, y'know? I’m away from my family and…” You pause, the words catching in your throat, the unspoken weight of everything you’re holding back pressing down on you. “I miss you.”

There’s a silence on the other end, but it’s not empty. You can feel his presence through the phone, the way he doesn’t rush to fill the space. Doesn’t need to because he understands. He’s always understood. He doesn’t even have to say it, but you can feel it in the quiet, in the way his breath catches ever so slightly, in the way you’re both suspended there, clinging to the edge of a past that neither of you can quite leave behind.

“Would you…” He starts, his voice hesitant, as if he’s weighing each word before letting it slip into the space between you. “Would you like to come over? Have dinner? I could use some company tonight, too.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s a vulnerability there, a longing that mirrors your own, as if he, too, has been holding onto this moment, waiting for the chance to bridge the gap that’s kept you both apart.

The offer hangs in the air, filling the empty spaces in your heart, and you realise that this, more than anything, is what you’ve been needing. Not just a familiar voice, but him — his warmth, his presence. The way he knows you without you having to explain. It’s more than you had hoped for, and yet, in that moment, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You nod, even though he can’t see you, the word slipping from your lips before you can second-guess it. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I’d like that.”

There’s a quiet relief in his response, and though he doesn’t say it, you know that he’s missed you too, that he’s been feeling the same hollow ache. The same pull that’s brought you back together tonight. It’s a fragile peace, this shared loneliness, but it’s enough for now. 

The air is biting as you make your way to his building, the chill cutting through your coat, but you barely notice. Your thoughts are tangled, a mess of anticipation and uncertainty as you stop to pick up a bottle of wine — a peace offering, an excuse, something to occupy your hands and steady your nerves.

By the time you reach his door, your heart is pounding, and you almost consider turning back, slipping away before you even have to face him. But then the door opens, and there he is, with that same steady gaze, the one that has always been able to calm you and unravel you all at once.

You step inside, and the warmth of his apartment wraps around you, the familiar scent of him, of the space you once shared, filling your lungs and pulling at memories you’ve tried to bury. You look around, and it’s like nothing has changed. The walls, the furniture, the soft, warm lighting — all of it is just as you remember, a snapshot frozen in time. But then your gaze drifts to the empty spaces, the subtle absence of things that once belonged to you, and the weight of it settles in your chest, a reminder that this isn’t your home anymore.

Your favourite mug, the one you’d always reach for first thing in the morning, is gone from its home by the kettle. The cosy pair of slippers you kept by the door, ready for nights when you’d settle in and make this place your own, have vanished too. You hadn’t expected them to stay, hadn’t imagined that he’d keep these remnants of you around, but somehow, seeing the empty spaces where they once were makes it all feel final, the quiet confirmation of what you already knew: it’s over. 

And suddenly, the regret hits you, sharp and unforgiving. You shouldn’t have called. You shouldn’t have come. This is only going to make it harder.

Quinn takes your coat, his fingers brushing yours as he hangs it up, and there’s a brief, awkward pause, a silence heavy with everything you both want to say but don’t. He gestures toward the kitchen, and you follow him, the bottle of wine clutched tightly in your hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you take a seat on the stool by the island. He moves around the kitchen with that same easy grace, his focus shifting from the stove to the countertop, to the little tasks he always made look so effortless. You pour a glass of wine, taking a long sip, letting the warmth spread through you, settling your nerves as you watch him.

The quiet between you feels heavy at first, stifling, as if you’re both waiting for the other to break it. But then, slowly, you feel the familiar rhythm return, that easy flow you once shared, the quiet comfort of simply being in each other’s presence. He chops vegetables, stirs a pot, reaches for spices, and it’s like slipping back into an old dance, one you both know by heart, even after all this time.

You find yourself talking, sharing little bits of your day, your voice filling the space between you, and he listens, nodding along, his gaze softening as he glances over at you. There’s something so natural about it, the way he tilts his head when he’s listening, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It’s a rhythm that feels almost instinctive, and before you know it, you’re leaning into it, the awkwardness fading, replaced by something warmer, something almost comforting.

As you sit there, watching him cook, sipping your wine, you feel a flicker of something that almost feels like peace. The familiar hum of the kitchen, the scent of food filling the air, the quiet, unspoken understanding between you — it’s all so familiar, so intimate. And yet, there’s a bittersweet edge to it, a lingering sadness that tugs at the corners of your heart, reminding you that this is temporary, that you’re only borrowing this moment.

Quinn gives the sauce a stir, tasting it with a spoon, and you lean forward, squinting at him with a familiar look of playful skepticism.

“Are you sure you’re not overdoing it with the garlic?” you ask, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he shakes his head. “I thought you loved garlic.”

“Yeah, but I also like to taste the rest of the dish,” you reply, laughing softly. “Remember that time you made pasta, and the entire apartment smelled like garlic for days?”

He chuckles, the sound light but carrying that old warmth. “Hey, I didn’t hear any complaints back then ” he says, turning back to the stove with a grin.

You shrug, resting your chin on your hand as you watch him. “Maybe I was just being nice.”

He throws a glance over his shoulder, his smile softening as his eyes meet yours. “You’re always nice,” he says, almost under his breath, and for a brief second, the room feels like it used to — filled with that easy, comfortable rhythm that was yours alone.

For a moment, it’s like the past few months slip away, and you’re both just there, together, sharing space like nothing ever changed.

You take another sip of wine, watching him as he moves around the kitchen, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that nothing has changed, that the empty spaces don’t matter, that you haven’t been living separate lives. Because in this moment, with him just a few steps away, his gaze meeting yours, you feel like you’re home again.

And then when you take a seat at the small dining table, a quiet smile lingers on your lips as you watch him bring over the plates, setting one in front of you with that same familiar care. It’s a simple dinner, but the warmth of it, the way he moves around the room with such ease, makes it feel like more. 

You glance around the room, your gaze landing on the bare walls, the empty spaces where twinkling lights and garlands used to hang. There are no Christmas decorations, none of the usual signs of the season that used to fill the apartment with warmth and light, and it feels strange.

“You didn’t put up any decorations this year,” you remark, trying to keep your tone light, though the words carry a weight you hadn’t intended.

You know how much he used to love transforming this place. How he’d indulge your excitement with a grin. How he’d string lights across the windows and set out little ornaments, creating a space that felt so alive, so full of holiday cheer. You hadn’t thought much of it until now, but seeing the absence of it all hits you harder than you expected.

He shrugs, looking down at his plate, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t see the point,” he says softly, and there’s a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sadness that tugs at your heart. “I only ever did it because you were around. I’m not really here much over the Holidays, and if it’s just for me… It just seems sort of pointless.”

The confession hangs between you, fragile and raw, and you feel the air shift, a connection sparking in the space between you, as if something unspoken has finally found its way to the surface.

You’re both quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in, letting the weight of them settle around you. There’s a warmth building in your chest, a tenderness that you’d thought had faded, but here it is: lingering, soft and undeniable.

Without thinking, you reach across the table, your fingers brushing against his, and he meets you halfway, his hand warm and familiar in yours. The touch is gentle, hesitant, but it feels like a step back into a place you both thought you’d left behind. He squeezes your hand, his thumb tracing a soft, slow circle against your skin, and you can feel the pull, the quiet magnetism that’s always been there, drawing you closer, even now.

After dinner, you linger in the quiet warmth of his apartment, neither of you ready to say goodbye just yet. There’s a fragile comfort in this old rhythm, a sense of normalcy that feels almost like it belongs to a different lifetime. The conversation drifts between light memories and familiar silences, and you feel yourself clinging to each moment. To the ease of it all, knowing it’s only a temporary reprieve.

You’re both leaning against the kitchen counter, a faint smile playing on his lips as he talks about something inconsequential, something that makes you laugh even as you feel the weight of the evening pressing down on you.

You’re both a little tipsy, the warmth of the wine clouding your judgment, softening the edges of everything, and when he stops talking and looks at you, really looks at you, there’s a beat of silence, a tension that feels both familiar and terrifying, and without thinking, you lean in, and he meets you half-way, closing the distance between you.

When he kisses you, it’s almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid that you’ll pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, letting the warmth of his touch wash over you, letting it chase away the cold that’s settled in your bones since you walked out of his life. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, and in that moment, it feels like everything is slipping back into place, like you’re finding your way home again. 

The kiss is soft, tentative, but it quickly deepens, and for a moment, you lose yourself in it, letting the warmth and the memories wash over you. It feels so easy, so natural, like slipping back into a dream, and before you know it, you’re in his bed, lying beside him in the dark, your heart pounding as the reality of it all settles in.

He falls asleep with his arm draped over you, his breathing steady and slow, and you lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything. It’s so familiar, the feel of his body next to yours, the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed, but this time, it's different. It's more painful, more final, as if the weight of the breakup is settling in all over again, sharper and more relentless than before.

He had held you with a tenderness that was both familiar and agonising, his hands tracing the curves of your body, his lips mapping paths across your skin. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, as if all the pain, all the distance, had melted away beneath the heat of his touch. You felt needed, wanted, loved in a way that you’d almost forgotten, and you let yourself sink into it, surrendering to the comfort, to the longing that had been building for months. It was intimate, but not in the way it used to be. 

His touch had been gentle, yet filled with an urgency, as if he, too, was trying to memorise the moment, to hold onto something that was slipping away even as it unfolded.

His fingers brushed your skin, sending sparks through you, the warmth of him pressing into you, grounding you in a way that felt both right and utterly wrong. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift on the wave of pleasure… on the feeling of being close to him… of feeling his heartbeat against yours. 

But now, lying beside him in the aftermath, you feel the full weight of what you’ve done, the painful clarity settling in. It felt so nice to be held, to be wanted, to be wrapped up in him again, but now the emptiness is stark, the regret deeper. You’re left with the cold reality that no matter how close you get, no matter how intimately your bodies fit together, there’s a distance between you that can’t be closed. An ache that physical closeness can’t mend. 

He shifts in his sleep, pulling you closer, and it only makes it worse. The familiar weight of his arm and the closeness of his breath against your skin a reminder of everything you’ve lost, of everything that can never be again. You know that this was a fleeting comfort, a brief return to something that once felt like home.

But now, the sweetness of the moment has faded, replaced by a hollow ache and by the realisation that this isn’t the way back. 

In the quiet, you feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, the warmth of his body beside you a painful reminder that what you shared tonight wasn’t reconciliation — it was a goodbye that neither of you could speak aloud.

And as you lie there, his steady breathing filling the silence, you know that no matter how much you both wanted to hold on, some things can’t be undone.

Some things can’t be saved.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[theotherbuckley]

right here - read on ao3

In an instant his veins turn to ice, his body stills, his legs shake as they try to hold him up. The voice on the other end of the line keeps speaking, but he can’t hear her. Can only hear the last four words repeating around and around in his mind.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

Tommy.

He’s moving before he can register it, half way out the door, holding his wallet and keys even though he doesn’t remember picking them up. He doesn’t remember hanging up the phone but the woman is no longer on the line. He knows which hospital to go to, even though he doesn’t remember her saying it.

His mind feels like tunnel vision; hazy and dark around the edges, focused on one thing only. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

He shouldn’t be driving.

He drives anyway.

He arrives 25 minutes later, wishing he was faster, but he can’t even remember the journey anyway.

The hospital lights are too bright and sterile as he walks in. They make him want to itch under his skin. There’s a buzz in the air, beeping of various machines. He can’t hear it over the thud of his heart beat in his ear. He doesn't remember if he locked his car. He has insurance, it doesn't matter. 

Lub dub.

Why is he thinking about his car?

There’s someone talking to him. He’s at the front desk. They’re asking his name.

Lub dub.

“I— Evan, um, Evan Buckley. You— someone called me? For Tommy. Thomas Kinard.”

Thomas is his father’s name. He doesn’t like Thomas.

Lub dub.

“One moment,” she says, turning to the computer screen.

“Mr Kinard has just come out of surgery. He’s in room 135 in the east wing. The doctor’s there can fill you in.”

Surgery.

Lub dub.

Surgery.

Lub dub.

Surgery.

Lub dub.

He barely remembers to say thank you, before he’s running through the halls. He wishes he didn't know exactly which way to go. 

Tommy looks small under the burning white lights, drowned in an oversized hospital gown.

Lub dub.

Tommy never looks small. Tommy makes Buck look small. Right now he feels like a giant in all the worst ways.

Lub dub.

He can feel every inch of his skin. It feels like there’s both ice and fire running through his vein. Burning cold through him. He can feel each hair standing on end, feel each beat of his heart pulse through his body like a tremor. He feels clumsy, like his limbs aren't his own, his mind feels too small for this body. He feels too big as he looks at his boyfriend from behind a glass window.

Lub dub.

Christopher's iPad is in the backseat of the Jeep. He forgot to take it home. He hopes nobody steals it.

Hopefully he remembered to lock the door.

Why does it matter right now?

“He’s in a medically induced coma, for now.” There’s a doctor standing by his side. He doesn’t know when she got there. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring.

A coma. The words echo in his mind.

A coma.

Lub dub.

This hurts far worse than being struck by lightning ever could.

It always hurts so much more when it’s not him, when it’s someone he loves instead.

He’d take being struck by lightning a thousand times over this.

Lub dub.

Thinking about his car feels easier than looking at Tommy. He must have locked the door, it's like second nature. Eddie always gives him this look when Buck double checks the door. There's no way he forgot this time. 

“We hope to get him out of it after a day or two, just enough time for his body to heal a little from his injuries.”

What injuries? His brain is screaming. His heart aches in his chest. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub. It feels like it’s trying to escape, trying to break through this glass barrier and get to where it belongs; with Tommy.

Lub dub. Lubdub. Lubdublubdublubdub—

“What—what happened?” He croaks out over the ringing in his ears.

“It was a fucking bird of all things,” a voice behind him says. This one he recognises.

“Lucy?” He turns to her, forcing his eyes to move away from where his boyfriend lays. It physically pains him to do so. Feels like he’s ripping a part of himself off as he turns away.

“He didn’t see it coming. Just flew straight through his window, wasn’t much he could do after that.”

“He’s lucky,” the doctor speaks this time. Buck doesn’t think this is lucky. Luck is winning the lottery, luck is finding the man of your dreams on a random day in the middle of a hurricane. Luck is not crashing a helicopter from a bird strike.

“A fall from that height, with only the injuries he sustained. He was talking when he got here. The only surgery he needed was a minor bone realignment of his leg which took most of the impact. He’s lucky it wasn’t much worse.”

Buck hears the words she doesn’t say.

He’s lucky to be alive.

Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.

His hands are shaking.

"I don't remember if I locked my car." He's not sure why he says it, but the words come out anyway. 

"You don't—Buckley," Lucy sighs. "Give me your keys." He obliges. His brain feels kind of foggy. He returns his attention to his boyfriend. The man who needs him right now but Buck's too busy thinking about his damn car. 

“Can I—Can I sit with him?” His voice comes out as not much more than a whisper.

“Of course.” The doctor nods, gesturing him towards the door.

Each step he takes feels unsteady but he moves anyway. His heart beat feels louder in his ears, like it knows it’s getting closer to the man he loves.

Lub dub.

He hesitates in the doorway, for reasons he can’t understand himself.

His heart skips a beat.

He walks through anyway. Takes a seat right by Tommy’s side. He lifts his shaking hand, pauses and looks towards the doctor who nods an okay.

He takes Tommy’s hand in his own. His hands are still shaking and he squeezes Tommy tighter to try and get them to stop. There’s bruising along his arms. Purple blotches scattered up their lengths. But the doctor’s right; all things considered he looks better than he could be.

There’s a cast on his leg. He remembers the firetruck crushing his bones and his own leg winces in sympathy.

Buck takes a deep breath. His heart slows slightly, matching that of his boyfriend’s.

A single tear escapes through his eyelid and Buck lets out a sob that he didn’t even realise he was holding back.

All at once, everything catches up to him. He collapses his head onto Tommy’s bed, never letting go of his hand. He cries, the sound muffled by the mattress. His body shakes with each hiccuping sob, but he feels better than before.

Because Tommy’s still here.

Right here.

His hand is limp beneath Buck’s own, but it’s warm. Warm is good. Warm means life.

The rest doesn’t matter right now. Tommy’s alive, he’s going to stay alive. And Buck will stay right here until he wakes up.

He presses a soft kiss to Tommy’s red knuckles. Wiping his eyes with the hand not joined to Tommy’s.

“I love you,” he whispers. He swears the heart rate on the monitor jumps slightly, like Tommy heard him. It doesn’t matter even if he didn’t. Buck will just tell him again, and again when he wakes up. read on ao3

[anika-ann]

Caught (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, fluff, they were roommates and idiots trope

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,2k

Summary: You hadn’t exactly planned to get caught in the rain. Then again, people rarely do. But you did.

You hadn’t plan to get caught in the soft spiderweb of feelings for Steve Rogers when your friend had set you up as roommates. Then again, people rarely do. But you did. It was impossible not to.

Arriving at your shared apartment soaking wet sees Steve springing into action to warm you up… and send you falling deeper in love with him with every passing second. But hey – what else was new, right?

Warnings: tooth-rottng FLUFF, idiots-in-love trope, they were ROOMMATES trope, brief mention of PTSD and its symptoms, one gratuitous 'fuck' and French

A/N: cross-written for the Winds of Autumn challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty and for @elixirfromthestars ' writing challenge. Thank you ALL for hosting and breathing live into the community 💕 for WoA I chose 'caught in the cold rain' for the WChallenge I chose “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @steviebbboi ;enjoy y'all 🥰

This was all your fault; it really was.

There was no one else to blame for your current state.

Soaking wet, hair and clothes dripping alike, shaking so hard you nearly dropped your keys when trying to fit it into the keyhole.

A few minutes was all it took.

And yes; it was all on you.

You had practically been praying for a sweater weather. You had been so fed up with the unbearable summer heat still gripping the reigns even mid-September that you prayed and begged and swore you might be able to kill a man for a single breath of autumn.

So clearly, you had called this upon yourself.

In all fairness, you had wished for Indian summer; the normal late September weather. The light sweater weather. You certainly hadn’t been hoping to be thrown into the weather of seasonal depression, the temperature drop equalling a time machine bringing the end of November to the air and people’s hearts alike. Unforgiving icy wind, endless downpours, poking umbrellas all around, ever-present grumbling as one’s coat brushed against another, the dampness and cold seeping into yours and everyone else’s bones.

Nothing nice and prayers-worthy about that.

The thing was, this had been a daily reality for about a week now – and so one would think you were well-equipped to deal with the weather at least.

Except like the fool you were, you left your waterproof jacket at home, because you had believed today’s weather forecast, confident that the desired sweet and slightly crispy autumn was coming at last.

You and the meteorologists had been wrong.

But that wasn’t the worst part, no – the worst part would be your giddy optimism in the face a sudden NY underground failure.

Taking the ride home from work, you had nearly slammed into people surrounding you in the train at the sudden slam of breaks. A system failure, apparently. Caused by the damage to the network due to previous intense rains. A mishap stopping the trains in their stations, forcing people out.

And like the optimistic half-wit, trying to find a bright side and making the most of a miserable situation, you had thought, hey, it’s only a few blocks from here! No rain on the horizon for a change. What an opportunity to soak in the lovely autumn weather! The buses and taxis will be packed, and walking is good for health anyway.

And sure it was. And you ended up soaking indeed.

The brutal downpour and icy wind caught you in about ten minutes after you had taken off to your brisk walk.

You seriously doubted there was any benefit to your health at all, safe for maybe points to your mental resilience and an excuse to stay in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate next week, because you were about to catch a grade-A case of cold.

By the time you got to your apartment door, you were ready to flop on the floor the moment you’d stumble inside, uncaring for the wet smack you’d make against the hardwood or the carpet should you make it further into the apartment.

Except you knew the floor would be unforgivingly hard either way, and cold and you first had to get out of your dripping shoes and then the drenched clothes sticking to your body like a second skin and it would take you forever to strip with how shaky and numb your fingers had turned, the only sensation being cold and stiffness bordering on pain and for god’s sake could you at least stick the damn key into the goddamn keyhole-

You finally opened the door with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on your lips, practically throwing the door open.

And were met with a surprised sleepy supersoldier blinking at your owlishly, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his white sleepshirt crumbled, the perfect case of bed hair and confused expression completing the most telling startled-from-his-sleep-but-not-Avenger-level-alarmed look.

Even in your state you had to admit he was adorable in a way men built like mountains shouldn’t.

You stared at each other mutely for several seconds, as if both surprised by each other’s presence – or at least state – processing.

You, drenched from rain and puddles, cold-dried by the wind, shivering all over and barely keeping your teeth from clattering as to hold onto the last shreds of your dignity and sanity.

Steve, still slightly disoriented, having just been woken up. Woken up by you, most likely, you thought regretfully, cursing your life-choices again. He was a light sleeper – a mere jiggle of keys would have interrupted his slumber, let alone your endless fumbling around the lock.

You spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry for wak-” “What happened to you?”  

Your voice trailed off, a chuckle of irony echoing in the back of your head.

What happened to you?

That was a question a lot more loaded that it might seem.

What had happened to lead you to this place, facing a sleepy Greek-godlike figure with a concerned look on his face?

A whole lot of coincidences; a whole lot of fate, maybe.

Sam Wilson, a friend from childhood, with whom you had only reconnected a few years ago.

You, having been looking for an apartment ever since your landlord had announced he planned to sell the building to a huge corporation which would, from then on, only rent the apartments to its employees.

Sam again, looking to move in with his girlfriend, claiming he was leaving a roommate behind, who would appreciate a kind, trustworthy and reliable replacement.

Your ‘Gee, thanks’.  

‘Wait, no, he didn’t word it exactly like that,’ Sam had assured you. ‘I promise, he’s a real stand-up guy. Sure, a guy, but a respectful one and a neat one, with a sprinkle of a neat freak on top. He’s a great roommate and one of my best friends – I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe it could work.’

That was what your friend had said. And you believed him.

One thing led to another.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that his real stand-up guy was a hulking drop-dead gorgeous supersoldier with the sweetest soul on the damn planet. Or maybe in the universe – what did you know? The universe had got a lot bigger ever since you found out it was perfectly possible for aliens to rain down from the sky through some kind of a hole in spacetime.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that your future roommate was one of the heroes from the superhero band that had stopped these very aliens from taking over planet Earth.

After processing – even though you weren’t sure you’d ever finish processing – that you would share an apartment with Captain America, you accepted.

After all, you certainly weren’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth; experience told you that could have done a lot worse than landing a person vetted by Sam Wilson and by a potentially world-ending event for a roommate.

In fact, you soon learned you couldn’t have done any better.

Steve was all the things Sam had promised.

And besides being the perfect person to share an apartment with, besides being the paragon of justice itself with a sprinkle of neat freak on top, he was also shockingly human.

Steve was a guy who had a routine until he didn’t, his schedule a little funny. He split housework with you in a way that left both of you content even as you felt he was doing a little bit more than his part whenever he could. He enjoyed cooking and baking and drawing and generally working with his hands, fixing any household issues before they could develop into a problem. Sometimes, nights found him in the living room with a book in his hand and quiet movie for a background when he couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, he left dirty dishes in the sink and a toothbrush on the basin instead of putting it into the holder and sometimes he forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was painfully respectful of your privacy and of your sleep alike whenever he was coming back at strange times, almost absurdly so for a man who seemed to barely fit in a doorway.  

He had a sharp mind and a subtle but deadly sense of humour on a good day and a quiet demeanour on a bad day, usually after a sleepless or nightmare-filled nights, which were always followed by him walking around the apartment with his sweats tucked into his socks because the draught and the cold on his ankles clearly bothered him. The list could go on and on and it was rather embarrassing for you, the idea for just how long you could keep listing things you observed about Steve and his habits and him; but the point was that he was a guy who was absurdly ordinary guy and extraordinary in about everything at once.

He had introduced as Steve the very day you had met, clearly not standing for any of your Captain, Sir, Captain Rogers nonsense.

He became Steve to you soon after.

He turned dear to you just as fast.

You weren’t sure when it happened; when your relationship shifted from sharing an apartment to sharing a life. It happened gradually, through dinners and breakfasts and films watched together; through nights he found you on the couch, barely awake or already sleeping after having been waiting for him even as he had told you not to; through late-night talks, about both things you were passionate about and things you wished you could forget.

You weren’t sure when this man, larger than life in both frame and heart, became your close friend.

You weren’t sure when the small butterflies that appeared in your stomach every time he smiled turned so all-consuming, spreading their wings through your whole body, circling around your heart.

It must have happened somewhere between his first smile and the sparkle in his warm blue eyes, between the tear-streaked cheeks when you found his shaking breathless body curled on the floor, between a hug and holding your hand when he drove you back from your wisdom teeth removal surgery because no one else was available, between every single minute you had the fortune to spend in his company and those you couldn’t, longing for him instead.

Somewhere in between, you must have fallen in love, the urgent feeling in your chest slowly turning unbearable and heavy. It burned, to stifle it inside, the one secret you wouldn’t share for the fear of breaking something as precious to you as your peaceful life with Steve the friend.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but it got you there.

It got you here; into this very moment, just like many others, facing him and rendered speechless for a breath or two, because god, was he handsome and lovely and sweetly worried and an image of domesticity at once and you were hit with a sharp tug of a feeling whispering of coming home.

What happened to you, Steve had asked, his gaze turning more concerned by the second as you remained silent safe for the rustle of your soaked jacket you had started to strip at some point and the one clatter of your teeth you failed to stifle.

What did happen again?

“Got caught in a rain,” you rasped, stating the painfully obvious. “Underground broke down. Thought I’d walk…”

Steve frowned, sleepiness wiped off his face to give way to compassion and sternness at once, a sigh leaving his lips as he slowly neared you.

“Seemed like a smart idea at the time…” you continued when he didn’t say a word, just gently – always so gently dammit – pushed at the door to get it closed at last, his arms quietly coming around you, engulfing you in his embrace. Your heart startled at the gesture. “Steve, no, I’ll get you all we---wow okay, this is nice, you’re really warm-“

He chuckled sweetly above your head as you babbled, protests dying on your lips with a sound resembling a whine and moan as his warmth enveloped you, so relieving and inviting, prompting you to melt against his firm and yet painfully soft body.

His voice carried an admonishing note as you trembled against him, his warmth and pleasant scent of comfort seeping into your body while the cold and smell of rain soaked him in return. You did not care for the scolding; it was a kind one. And Steve still was still holding you – that was the important part.

And the most painful one.

"You could have called,” he said, like a sweet, even if already lost bargain. “I’d come get you.”

You pressed closer to him, clearly having a glutton for punishment.

Those few innocent words burned through you like the most tender wildfire. An inflection and tone that couldn’t have been good for your heart and yet you revelled in them; a statement that felt like an oath:

I‘d come get you.

I’d always come get you.

I’d do anything for you.

Something so close to love, in your reach and yet untouchable, because he didn’t mean it – he couldn’t mean it, because Steve Rogers had a large heart, but surely would have told you if you had occupied space in it that way.

And yet he held your own heart in his palms and he didn’t even know. Was it wrong you let the gentle words wash over you and let them warm you just as much as Steve’s arms, even if they meant something different than you’d wish?

You gulped, a shiver that had nothing to do with cold running down your spine.

“You only got in like three hours earlier,” you reasoned, forcing yourself to focus on the practical matters as not to slip into whispering a true confession; and perhaps doing so anyway along the way. It was true, however; as per habit and your request, Steve had texted you he was home safe and sound barely few hours ago. Knowing that led you to immediately weed out the mere idea of calling him to pick you up as it appeared in your mind the moment the downpour started. You were aware, however bittersweet the knowledge was, that he would come – that was why you hadn’t called. For his benefit. “You needed to sleep.”

Steve sighed again. And you needed to be picked up, you heard in the weary and yet somehow fond sound.

He didn’t argue, however; his hold grew tighter, appreciative, his broad hand, oh so warm, running up and down your back, pressing a little stronger than he normally would in a hug; allowing the heat of his body sink deeper, into your very bones, sending you sinking deeper into the warmth blooming in your chest as well.

Pressed against his front, you couldn’t but breathe in, allowing everything that was Steve overwhelm over your senses. The woodsy notes and musk of his cologne, the soft material of his sleepshirt burning almost too hot as it clung to his body, the smooth movements of his rough hands, his warm breath brushing your scalp, the image of his minute smile behind your closed eyelids, his voice humming in his ribcage and filling your ears like honey.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

His question was so genuine – and a little wavery in a way that made your belly tingle in response. Tell me what I can do and I will do it. Just say the word, it seemed to whisper in your head, your heart protesting and fluttering in your chest.

You already are, you almost replied as the shudders subdued slowly despite both of you now soaking. You’re back home. You’re safe. You’re with me. And you’re warm. And big. And strong. And you smell good. And you’re holding me oh so tight and gentle and it feels so profoundly nice and you really are warm and maybe this new shiver running down my back isn’t just that I’m cold, maybe it’s that naïve hope of which I should have let go of so long ago-

He noticed the fresh wave of tremble of whose origin you yourself weren’t entirely sure of – your weather escapades or the escapades of your poor heart – and the caress up and down your back grew faster, more of a rubbing to create warmth than a soothing gesture.

“Okay, doll, you’re getting into the bathtub right away. What can I do in the meantime?”

In spite of his words, a benevolent order one might say, he didn’t let go.

Despite his question sounding urgent, you took your time responding; because it took a huge portion of your willpower not to tell him to just keep holding you.

“…hot chocolate?” you suggested meekly, a shy but slightly mischievous smile tugging at your lips when Steve released you at last, those big warm paws of his settling on your shoulders for a moment. “And you should probably change.”

He glanced at his wet clothes self-deprecatingly, as if it was his fault – and in a way, you supposed it was. But you weren’t complaining. The wet fabric clung to his body in the most delicious way, no matter the scepticism he observed it with.

When his gaze met yours again, his smile was the sun itself; but you still missed the heat of his body against your skin.

“You got it, doll. Come on.”

Much to your regret and salvation, he released you completely. You still graced him with a grateful and once again shaky smile which you could and should blame on the loss of his body heat.

“Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

And he was.

And if that wasn’t becoming a bigger problem by the minute.

With some of Steve’s warmth lingering – mainly the one his actions and demeanour awoke deep within your body – you managed to get rid of your clothes with enough ease and patience to have the bathtub fill with steaming hot water before climbing in. Sinking into the water then felt about as pleasant as sinking into Steve’s embrace had been – except this time, it was the rest of your body which appreciated the heat, warming you from the outside, tension leaving your muscles, your brain relaxing and slipping into a mindless haze, an absent smile forming on your lips.

You soaked in the tub for long enough to almost fall asleep and slide under the water; the only thing convincing you to fight the slumber off – perhaps besides, well, drowning – was the premise of a delicious cup of hot chocolate made with utmost care and Steve’s company, all the more appreciated since you knew he’d stay for at least five minutes even as he was no doubt falling asleep on his feet himself.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, your climbed from the tub, rushed through your routine and emerged from the bathroom with steam following you, no doubt making for an image of cosiness with your blissfully dry comfortable clothes, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve must have agreed with your assessment, because he greeted you with a grin.

He had left the two mugs of top tier hot chocolate with actual melted pieces of the treat and whipped cream on top on the kitchen counter, having brought two blankets for the couch, now fumbling with the tv remote. A quick glance around the apartment told you that while you were nearly nodding off in the bathroom, he had made a quick work of cleaning the mess you had left behind; electric shoe dryers already placed in your boots, your drenched jacket near the heating with plastic film spread on the floor as not to do any damage.  

You could kiss the lop-sided smile he gave you when you thanked him, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement and longing when he nodded towards the couch. To an outsider, the scene could easily appear as a quiet night in of a couple; a thoughtful beautiful man setting everything up for a date night full of seeking joy in simple domesticity and quiet intimacy.

One day, Steve Rogers was about to make someone incredibly happy.

The idea strung a sharp but brief note of jealousy in your chest, a lump growing in your throat as the rational part of you mocked you that the person wasn’t you. You would have known by now if you were; even though spending time with him did make you all kinds of happy.

You forced a smile through the light sting of tears, trying to stop your mind from racing and spiralling about the thought of having to move out to make space for the vaguely gorgeous and brilliant woman; or maybe sooner, just to put your heart at ease, because with every beat of it you felt yourself falling deeper into the trap of loving this man. It was beginning to hurt; and still, you approached him, smiling.

“Looking cosy. Feeling better?”

You nodded, unable to resist and placing your hand over Steve’s arm, his soft blues finding your gaze.

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

The lopsided smile returned, his fingers brushing your shoulder. God, he was so close and all you’d have to do was to stand on your tiptoes. You’d kiss his cheek, a purely innocent display of gratitude of course, just to feel his smooth skin against your lips once-

You needed to get a grip. The brief hypothermia you had suffered was messing with your brain and was lowering your inhibitions and that was not good. 

“Anytime,” he assured you, nodding towards the screen. “We don’t have to, but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to watch a movie? I feel like we could both use that. But if you’d rather be alone-“

You shook your head quickly, your smile coming easier now because of the absurdity and thoughtfulness of his question at once. To be alone when he was there? No thank you. Who cared that the rational part of your brain huffed again, telling you that maybe that would be a better idea unless you wanted to torture yourself with false hopes.

Saying no was not an option.

You really must have had a glutton for punishment; but in some ways, you learned Steve suffered from the same condition. So maybe that was just his persona rubbing on off you��� And thank you, brain, for the worst possible choice of words.

You cleared your throat.

“A movie sounds great,” you said, the mental image of you throwing its hands in the air, grumbling something about your poor old heart. Steve was still very softly holding onto your shoulder though, facing you, mere foot apart; who expected you to think rationally in these conditions? “Fair warning though, I almost fell asleep in the tub. Might fall asleep half-way through this.”

Steve grinned, stepping back to get the mugs and beckoning towards the couch again as to tell you to get settled. You obeyed without protest; you knew him well enough to be aware there was no point in trying to get your mug yourself.

He was the nurturing kind of friend.

“Does that mean I get to choose the movie so you can blame your social and cultural ignorance on my choices?” he teased.

He was also the loveable little shit kind of friend.

“Rude… and I would never,” you protested, accepting the offering of the hot chocolate, now indeed all cosy, tucked in a blanket, sitting comfortably and wrapping your hands around the mug to warm your palms further. “…but deal.”

Steve’s laugh was perhaps warmer than the mug and sweeter than its content, but you stomped at the thought as soon as it popped up in your head. You had no time nor capacity for nonsense. You had a nice evening ahead.

Better not to ruin it.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was not it.  

You had warned Steve about the possibility of you nodding off; after all, beyond having exhausted your body with the less-than-pleasant walk, nearly falling asleep in a bathtub and getting all comfortable on the couch, you had expected the large amount of sugar you’d consume to take its toll eventually and push you over the edge, the infamous sugar crash being the last straw.

You had expected to be out as a light in a matter of minutes, to be honest.

You had not expected the effect of all the warmth and sugars to evaporate much faster than that.

You were maybe twenty minutes into the movie and the anticipated sleep barely scratched the door of your consciousness; instead, the first reluctant shivers arrived. Blatantly ignoring Steve’s subtle side-eye and entirely obvious worry, you sank deeper into the couch, pulling the second blanket over yourself, tucking it all the way up to your chin, curling into yourself to preserve the warmth.

Thirty minutes in, you were shaking so hard Steve paused the movie, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he turned his upper body to you, right hand reaching out before pausing a few inches from your forehead.

“Can I?”

You hummed noncommittally, wondering yourself if maybe your grade-A case of cold was arriving sooner than expected and a fever already hit.

You were feeling just fine though; it was just the damn shivers which you couldn’t seem to stop.

Steve’s hand gently settled against your forehead, his frown deepening almost as if he could feel your heart speed up at the contact and didn’t approve. Which you knew was nonsense, because his whole mind was probably already consumed by the mission of assessing whether his inner Nurse Rogers should come out, but it worked well for cooling off your train of thought.

“It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but we should probably check,” he hummed thoughtfully, shifting, prepared to rise his feet in search of the thermometer.

Your hand shot up from its safe warm haven, missing the target of his forearm but sending clear enough message to stop him.

He settled back down with a sigh, his hand sliding from your forehead over your cheek to the side of your neck, a delightful source of warmth spreading through your whole body and your suddenly deadly heartrate; a flicker of an image in which he’d place his hand exactly there and leaned forward, his lips brushing yours, nudged insistently at your brain.

You battled it with violent effort, refusing to even consider the soft look in Steve’s eyes was anything but concern for a good friend.

Because that was all it was: concern. What if you turned into an icicle, right? He had seen weirder things than that and he had spent whole seventy years frozen. He was naturally very worried about you having to endure the same.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a smile that was shaky due to everything but cold. “Just my thermoregulation going haywire after all the excitement today--- Jesus how are you always so warm…”

Steve ignored your question, his hand still firmly set on your neck, the most delicious source of heat, his eyes roaming your embarrassingly shaking form.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with cold,” he said absently.

You could practically hear the wheels in his head turning, even as you were quite busy keeping your teeth from clattering. His eyes were so startingly blue, with the lightest speckle of green standing out for some reason, mesmerizing and warm as if to wreck the theory of these two colours normally belonging to the cold scale and you heart was positively about to beat your way out of your chest, because it appeared as if he was leaning forward a bit and maybe you were entering some kind of delirium, so it really was the time to move.

Move to kiss him, maybe, you bet his lips were warm too and yours were cold-

Okay, that was it.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go for another soak-“

“Come here,” he muttered at the same time, effectively rendering you speechless when he released you only to scoot back a bit, his fingers beckoning lightly to himself, expression entirely serious.

What.

“I do run pretty hot and frankly I’d rather have you under supervision,” he said matter-of-factly, slipping into the Captain mode – managing to shoot your naïve hopes sky-high and shooting them dead in one sentence.

He was mission-oriented; that was all. He was worried, because frankly, your body was acting out and he was a good friend.

A good friend. A captain, responsible for his own.

There was nothing romantic about sharing body heat; he had probably done it dozen times on a mission.

He was simply concerned. And you should be and were grateful for that and for the practical and grounded approach to the matter at hand; you certainly preferred it to him rushing you to the doctor, because you were still pretty certain it was nothing to be worried about, nothing a good night’s sleep with loads of blankets on top of you wouldn’t fix.

So why the pang in your heart?

Why the regret and disappointment at him simply doing it to assure you’d feel better?

Because you were an idiot and you should have been so much more radical about forbidding yourself from catching feelings while living with Steve. But how could anyone blame you? He was just stupidly attractive and profoundly good and adorably ordinary in his extraordinariness, and you just wanted one touch, one taste, one moment of basking in his light and warmth and actual love.

Was that really so wrong of you?

You swallowed, voice set perhaps a little harsher than needed, the idea of him holding you out of pity making you a little sick to your stomach.

“Steve, you really don’t have to-“

“I want to,” he argued, voice so much softer in contrast to yours, and your body, that traitorous body acted, nearing to his despite your achy heart and hurting brain screaming at you to get to your feet instead, get to the bathroom or your room and lock the door and your heart and throw away the key to keep it safe.

“Steve-“

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw you wavering despite your verbal protest.

“Plus, I’m just doing my civic duty of protecting the innocent. You shake any harder, you’ll cause an earthquake.”

Deadpanning, you managed to stop your progress; in turn, your heart fluttered at the sparkle of mischief in Steve’s eye, that stupid muscle in your chest humming with fondness.

Godddamn him.

He knew exactly how to disarm you completely, to have you do his bidding, and he must have known of this power of his, blatantly abusing it for your wellbeing.

What a criminal behaviour.

With a sigh, you lifted your blanket a bit, scooting over to his open arms, carefully laying to his side as his arm slid under the blanket around your shoulders and pulled you closer; his warmth enveloped you in an instant, his hand rubbing gently at your arm, while his other busied itself with tucking the blanket around you to create a safe cocoon.

You felt yourself relax despite your better judgement, cheek laying on his chest, a steady thump-thump of his heart bargaining with yours:

How could you be short with him? Mad at him? He was just being the nicest person in the world, taking care of his friend, radiating warmth and smelling of comfort, selfless and without seeking anything but a simple thank you in return, if even that. And the charming bastard he was, he even tried to make you laugh.

It wasn’t his fault you had gone and fallen in love with him; it wasn’t fair to hold it against him that he was the best person you knew and your feelings were hurt just because he couldn’t think the same about you. Your mind understood that; it was your heart that was foolish.

You chased the thoughts away, only an echo of the ugly empty feeling remaining, giving way to a much more tender and insistent emotion; but mostly to sensation of your shivers subduing, almost as if they had been the trembles of an addict seeking their fix – Steve’s touch – rather than those of someone with messed up thermoregulation.

Maybe they were. But that wasn’t for Steve to worry about.

“Har har… how about your civil duty of being a sassybag…” you muttered in appreciation of his attempt, his chest shaking lightly with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m taking that one most serious of them all.”

That he was.

The grin in his voice was infectious, however; you smiled against your will, poking his side lightly with your index finger.

“I noticed… but I forgive you.”

Because you’re really warm and sweet and for a moment, I guess I can indulge in the unhealthy delusion of you doing this because you like me close, postponing the ache of sobering up to reality for later.  

“I’m glad. How’s that feel?”

Like I want to stay like this forever.

Like I want you to want to stay like this forever.

You shushed the traitorous voice.

“Warm… comfy,” you added after a while, rewarded by a rub to your shoulder, being pulled impossibly closer. And it felt so good.

“Good.”

Simply holding you and sharing his heat indeed for a moment, he let you soak in the comfort. Seconds passed, maybe minutes; you didn’t count the beats of his heart, but heard every single one of them, soothing, whispering the little lie that maybe some of them were for you.

You didn’t argue; you didn’t quite give in.

When Steve lowly asked you if you wanted to continue the movie, you just nodded, grateful for the distraction of how incredibly right you felt in the little fantasy of yours that this, you being here in Steve’s arms, was exactly where you belonged.

As he reached for the remote, you whispered a soundless ‘thank you’.  

His ‘you’re welcome’ was softer and warmer than the blankets.

It was a herculean task to accomplish, fending off sleep, but having being in Steve’s company had rubbed off of you; you were anything but determined. Not knowing what the movie was about and what had happened on the screen in the past minutes – since the movie started, really – you still tried not to doze off at least.

You had a creeping suspicion Steve knew, deducting so from your silence or from the way your body was completely pliant against his, but he didn’t call you out, like the gentleman he was. Instead, he had simply stopped moving, safe from the periodical rise and fall of his chest, serving you as the most comfortable pillow you had ever had a chance of laying your head to, soft and warm and solid all at once.

And he seemed perfectly content to serve as one.

Just for that, you had stopped caring a while ago about his motivations. Had this been just a mission to keep a fellow human warm, so be it. He seemed pleased enough to do so and in your hazy sleepy mind, you knew one thing with absolute certainty – and that was that you did find this all kinds of pleasant too. Should the contentedness of yours come from a different place than his, well, you could deal with that later.

Or never.

You were just… happy and at peace.   

You weren’t sure when exactly you had closed your eyes, but you had; your voice was slurring a bit too, your determination to fight your exhaustion clearly not enough to win over sleep.

“Thank ya’ for takin’ care of me, Steve.”

At that, the soft statue under you shifted the tinniest bit, Steve’s thumb brushing your arm gently as his arm had remained around your shoulders. His heart was beating a little fast, you thought absently, lulled back into obliviousness by the vibration of his voice.

“You already said that…” he reminded you, humour and something else, sweeter, laced into his voice. “Anytime.”

You hummed in response, sinking deeper into the softness enveloping you.

“Hey… I mean it, okay?”

“Uh huh,” you muttered again, the dreamland already calling you, insistent and so inviting. “Same… arenchya sleepy? ‘m sleepy.”

Silence only sweetened by his still rapidly beating heart settled, another slow caress to your arm, Steve’s voice reaching you from tender proximity and endless distance all at once.

“Then sleep, doll.”

Mmm.

The dreams wrapped around your wrists like tender ribbons, coaxing you to follow them, pulling gently.

You could give in so easily. Letting the dreamland take you felt as simple as breathing; comfortable and warm, and feeling so damn safe that your heart, while peaceful, was aching a little.  

And maybe it was the tone Steve had spoken with earlier – so much emotion weaved into a few simple words, so much meaning – maybe it was the subconsciousness forming your dreams, but the memory of one of your favourites book which you had read multiple times flickered through your mind, making you smile. Or maybe it didn’t – you weren’t sure if you moved a single muscle, your body already floating.

Le sommeil partagé était le corps du délit de l'amour, the line read. A pondering of a man to whom sleeping with women meant nothing but entertainment, no feelings attached; not until he held a woman truly dear to him through the night, having fallen asleep peacefully, at last realizing that what he was feeling was love.

Sleeping with someoneor sleeping with someone, that was at the centre of his dilemma; the sharp contrast, one much more meaningful than the other. One a display of desire; the other, display of trust and love. A corpus delicti of love.

It was never like that for you – to you, the physical only came along with emotional, deep trust necessary to both. Having been learning about who Steve was, your mind argued lazily, there was no doubt in your mind Steve felt the same way about his relationships.

But the fact you could fall asleep right there, in his arms, and it felt like the safest place in the world…

It brought along a different memory; a memory of Steve’s large body curled into itself next to you on the couch, three blankets on top of him, your hands holding his, the contact seemingly somehow chasing away the demons of his past that had come to haunt his dreams. You had found him, lost in his own home, trapped in his own mind. He had agreed on a movie even as it had taken a long time to convince him that you weren’t going to back to sleep in your room while he’d try to fight off the invisible enemies his mind had created alone; so you had settled on a movie marathon instead. He had relaxed eventually, the dreamland taking him again, soft snores a lullaby to you – and you had never spoken about it again besides his quiet, ashamed and painfully genuine thank you the next morning. He had trusted you then, maybe feeling just as safe as you were now, despite you being nothing but an ordinary unenhanced human protecting him from evil.

It was a mirror image to how you were at this moment, you mused sleepily; you made him your pillow and a space heater and the source of comfort, while you tiptoed the line of reality and dreams.

His heartbeat thundered softly in your ear, calming but so vigorous and fast; and it slowly dawned to you that his body had stiffened under yours, the sensation nudging your consciousness and pulling you back, away from sleep.

Before you could voice your concern and confusion, his chest vibrated softly under you; his voice caressed you, tender with a hint of a rasp.

“…oui, c’est toujours vrai,” he whispered slowly, the words not making any sense.

Yes, that is always – still – true, you understood despite not being able to grasp at what he was saying truly or why, even as you knew French nearly perfectly, could probably speak it even in your sleep-

Your eyes snapped open, your heart jumping in your chest so fiercely it hurt.

Yes, that is always true.

It is true-

You had spoken out loud.

You had quoted one of your favourite books to him, out loud, speaking of shared sleep and love, and he had read that book too, you knew as much because you had talked about it before, he knew what that line meant, what it meant to you.

But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be saying what you meant he was saying-

Except that tone. That soft, soft inflection to his voice, his thumb brushing over your arm again, reluctant but firm, his breath having hitched, awaiting your reaction to this… revelation?

And he got it; all sleep evaporating from your body, realizing you were basically lying on top of him – gods, you had no inhibitions in your semi-sleep state – your heart pounded so wildly your ribcage just might set it free. You gulped, shifting so you could look at him, the world slowly coming back to focus as your mind kept echoing the same words, over and over.

Corpus delicti of love. Corpus delicti of LOVE, c’est vrai-

You found Steve with his head bowed, observing you with patient and nervous anticipation, still holding you close to his body, something softly hopeful shimmering in his irises. Shadows of the evening had fallen over the living room but you could still see his perfect face so clearly, the depth of his blue eyes, the two beauty marks on his cheek, the pink lips looking so soft even as they were lightly pressed in a line – expectant of your response.

Your response to him indirectly confessing to---

Was he in love in you too?

The flicker of something you’d never dare to truly believe was real, because it appeared dangerously like adoration, lit up his eyes at your barely audible ‘really?’, a shadow of anxiety building behind the brilliant speckles of green in his irises when he nodded and waited.

As you processed, Steve never took his gaze off you in a display of bravery you were sure you would never have been capable of.

He had nodded. He had nodded.

Unless you were reading it completely wrong, unless--- unless this was just your fever actually taking over, Steve loved you, or at least was on his way to do so.

The overwhelming euphoric feeling rushed through ever nerve ending like a livewire, lighting your body up, your breathing hitching and expanding in your chest, something prickling in your eyes.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, gaze flickering over your face, appearing almost desperate to read your reaction since you couldn’t seem to verbalize how you felt.

But how could you let out a single word? He had romantic feelings for you too.

“We… we can talk later, if you’d like. You need your rest too…” he argued in a reluctant whisper.

There was no universe in which you were going to fall asleep, ever again and frankly you admired his self-restraint and willingness to wait after having just confessed he was interested in more than friendship and roommate-ship.

Steve Rogers, your Steve, was holding you in his arms, your bodies aligned, and he had feelings for you.

The soft expression – and the nervous energy radiation off him – whispered urgently of you not having read too much into his gestures, of your naïve hopes not being all that naïve, of all of this being true even as it left like a dream.

Maybe it was. But if it was, you’d cling to it and never let go.

And if it was by some miracle true, you sure as hell would never ever let sleep take you, because then… well.

The corners of your lips twitched minutely in an incredulous self-deprecating smile.

You were thoroughly warmed up, all shivers having subdued a long time ago, but something inside you trembled more than your voice.

“I can’t sleep now... I’ll think I’d dreamed all this up. That it wasn’t real,” you whispered hastily, “I… I want it to be real.”

Tension melted from Steve’s body at last, muscles having been tight as a bowstring easing into their mere usual firmness. His lips, those inviting lips, curled up in a smile, an echo of his eyes twinkling with something soft and exciting.

“Sounds like a dream to me too, yeah,” he admitted, your pulse nearing the speed that would sooner or later surely lead to cardiac arrest, your mind screaming with dozen of swirling thoughts.

He liked you. Steve like-liked you, perhaps maybe, just a little, on his way to love you, shared sleep, trust and love, he had dreamed of this too, he-

“How about…” he hummed, hand slowly cupping your cheek, tilting your head up and guiding you to lift it off his chest, causing your head to spin sweetly.

You could have easily escaped the tender touch; but you didn’t want to, not in a million years. You leaned into it instead, a pleasant twist deep within your belly, a shaky exhale leaving your parted lips, air swiftly drawn back as Steve leaned down, eyes roaming your face for any sign of protest. Finding none, his eyes earned a new kind of glow that warmed you up like no blanket or shower could, his lips neared dangerously, a silent wishful sigh as your fingertips stroked lightly over his chest.

“…we share a moment so real there’s no doubt left?”

There was no doubt left; and not a second of hesitation.

It occurred to you how absurd the reasoning was, to have a real moment, what a feeble excuse; as if you hadn’t dreamed of this before, as if the images of kissing Steve hadn’t haunted your nights, so vivid and so tangible morning had felt like razor tearing the masterpiece of a canvas apart; but that thought was but a silent voice in the very back of your mind and you did not care for it in the slightest.

On the other hand, Steve was right here and you’d do just about anything he’d suggest.

“Yes.”   

The second the breathless sound left you, Steve’s lips were pressed to yours, soft and warm and real, an electrifying sensation of right rushing through your very being, proving Steve’s damn point; your dreams could have never done justice to this.

Not to the way his lips moulded against yours, the tentative touch turning eager the very moment you pressed against him.

Not to the way he felt so perfectly solid and soft under your palm, against your side, against your thigh.

Not to the way his hand on your arm curled around your bicep and squeezed when your lips parted for him with a choked whimper.

Not to the way his fingertips caressed along your jaw to your chin, tipping your head back further to truly kiss you.

Not to the way you couldn’t get enough of it, of his touch, of his taste, chocolate and sugar and home, of his scent, invading your senses in the most wonderful attack you’d yield to with delight.

When your lips parted with a gasp, your name like the sweetest endearment on his lips, his forehead rested against yours, sharing your breath, your space, the wild beats of your hearts.

It seemed that some of those beats of his heart truly might be for you; just like quite a few of yours were for him.

And it was beautiful.

An unwitting chuckle spilled from your lips, the euphoria coursing your veins spilling over, rewarded by a soft stroke of Steve’s thumb over your cheek, a deep inhale, your eyes fluttering open to his soft but blinding smile you couldn’t but mirror.

God, he was the most stunning man you had ever seen in your life.

Had you not been rendered speechless by the kiss, his beauty would have done the job.

And if that hadn’t been enough, the way he was looking at you, as if you had hung the moon and the stars and he would have hung them for you if you had just asked – how had you never noticed it before? – now that would have done you for.

You had no words; but it seemed that for the moment, neither did he.

And so your gaze flickered down to his lips, now more tempting than ever, and you let action speak louder than words.

Cupping his face in return, you kissed him again, and let the coincidence or perhaps fate, that had led you to spill your secrets at the precipice of sleep, take reigns again, not at all protesting when Steve’s hands roamed to your waist, a silent invitation for you to move closer in any way you wished.

You let the moment take you wherever it would lead, quite happy if the half-wit you had called yourself earlier that day lost all her wits to Steve’s softly demanding mouth.

Maybe next time you’d get caught in the rain, he’d be there soaking with you; and maybe just like he hadn’t cared for getting his clothes wet earlier either, you’d both stand there in the downpour in an embrace of lovers, caring little for the water dripping all over you.

As long as he’d keep kissing you.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Happy autumn, everyone 💕 I know I should be working on my longfic but my brain seems distracted by various short-fic ideas, often fullfilling writing challenges...

I really enjoyed this one 🥰 and I hope that so did you!

Have a lovely autumn!🍂

P.S. - For those interested, the quote comes from Milan Kundera's novel Unbearable Lightness of Being (L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être or Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí).

[joelmillerisapunk]

bad idea, right?

Dad's boss!Joel Miller x Reader

masterlist

↳ wordcount: 1,628

↳ summary: The thrill of sneaking around and the intense physical pleasure are difficult to forget, but the guilt and shame that accompany them can not be ignored. You find yourself questioning whether your actions were justified and whether you should risk it again.

↳ warnings: 18 unprotected p in v, sneaky public sex.

↳ notes: hiiii! I wrote this in about 30 minutes this morning because that first picture got in my head. I hope you enjoy! lemme know what you think 💋

You pull up to the construction site in your old beat-up truck, the same one your dad used to drive before he started working for Joel Miller. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the dusty site. You can see your dad, hard at work, operating one of the heavy machinery machines. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage to make your way over to him.

As you step out of the truck, you notice Joel standing near one of the half-built buildings, talking to one of the workers. You can't help but admire him from afar. His broad shoulders look like they could through his t-shirt at any moment, his hair pushed back, revealing his sharp jawline. You've had a crush on him since the first day your dad brought you to the site to look around, but you never had the guts to talk to him.

But today is different.

You grab the thermos of coffee and the bag of sandwiches from the passenger seat and start making your way towards your dad. As you approach, Joel notices you and gives you a friendly wave.

"Hey there, kiddo," he says, his voice deep and gravelly. "Your dad's inside that building over there. I'm sure he could use a break."

You nod, handing him the thermos. "Coffee?"

He grins, taking the thermos from your hand. "You're a lifesaver. Thanks."

You feel warm, mumbling a response before quickly turning and walking away. You can feel Joel's eyes on you as you make your way over to your dad, your heart pounding in your chest.

After a few minutes of chatting with your dad, you decide to take a walk around the site. You've always been fascinated by the construction process, and you love exploring the different areas of the site. You wander around and without thinking, you find yourself wandering towards the building Joel disappeared into earlier. As you approach, you can hear the sound of hammering coming from inside. You push open the door, your heart racing as you step inside.

The room is dimly lit, with patches of sunlight streaming in through the windows. Joel is standing in the corner, his hair damp with sweat, his muscles glistening in the sunlight. He looks up as you enter, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join me,” he sets down the hammer he's been using and walks over to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm glad you decided to come find me."

You feel your cheeks flush as he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. "I... I wasn't looking for you," you stammer, your heart pounding in my chest.

Joel just laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Sure you weren't," he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I'm glad you're here anyway. I didn't take you for the type to sneak around and explore abandoned buildings," he says, his voice teasing.

"Oh, I was, uh, just curious," you mumble, looking down at the ground.

Joel chuckles, his fingers gently lifting your chin so that you're looking at him. "I like curious," he says, his voice full of mischief. His body is just inches away from yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, making your heart race even faster. Joel reaches out, gently pushing a strand of hair out of your face. His fingers linger on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" his eyes locked on yours.

You can feel your entire body heating up, you look down at the ground. Joel's hand moves to your arm, gently squeezing it.

"Hey, look at me," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

You look up, meeting his gaze. Joel's eyes are full of desire, making your heart race even faster. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. You gasp, your body trembling with desire. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his arousal pressing against you, making your heart race even faster. He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands continue to roam.

"I want you," he murmurs, his lips against your ear. "Here, now."

You moan with pleasure, your body trembling with desire. You know it's wrong, but you can't resist the temptation.

Joel leads you to a corner of the building, his hands gently caressing your body as he undresses you. You gasp as his fingers enter you. Joel's hands are gentle but firm, exploring your body with a skill that leaves you breathless.

Joel's hands move to your breasts, his fingers gently teasing your nipples. "You like that?" You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. Joel's fingers move lower, gently teasing your clit. All you can do is moan, he leaves you speechless. Joel's other hand pulls his pants and boxers down to his ankles, just far enough to free his erection, giving him just enough room to move.

You gasp as Joel’s girthy length enters past your wet folds and snuggles into your tight walls, he begins to move, his hips thrusting against yours. His fingers continue to tease your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. And ust as you're about to reach your climax, you hear the sound of footsteps outside the building. You freeze, your heart racing in your chest. Joel's fingers still, his body tensing as he listens. The footsteps get closer, and you can hear the sound of a worker's voice talking on the phone. Your heart races as you realize that you're about to get caught.

But Joel doesn't seem phased. He gently pulls out of you, his fingers stilling as he reaches for his pants. He pulls them up, his movements quick and smooth. You quickly fix your clothes, your heart still racing in your chest. Joel gives you a reassuring smile, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Don't worry, we're good,"

You nod, trying to steady your breathing. Joel's hand stays on yours, leading you to the corner of the building, hiding you from the worker's view. The worker walks by, not noticing the two of you hiding in the corner. Joel's hand stays on yours, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

As the worker disappears out of sight, Joel turns to you, his eyes full of desire. "Where were we?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours.

You moan as Joel's fingers begin to move again. You know that you're taking a risk, but the pleasure he gives you is too strong to resist.

Joel leads you back to the corner, his hands gently caressing your body as he undresses you once again.

"Sweet jesus you're so beautiful, I can't resist you."

You gasp as Joel enters you once again, his movements slow and deliberate as he takes his time exploring your body. His fingers move to your clit, gently teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves as he thrusts his hips against yours.

"Good girl, takin’ my cock so good arent’cha?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You nod, your breath hitching in your throat as Joel increases his pace. His fingers move faster, matching the rhythm of his hips as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"I want you to come for me," he growls, his teeth grazing your ear. "I want to feel you trembling beneath me."

“fuck, im so close,” your bodys trembling with pleasure as Joel's fingers work their magic. You can feel the tension building inside you, your climax just within reach. "Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's fingers move faster, his hips thrusting harder as he drives you over the edge. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Joel follows close behind, his body tenses as he reaches his climax, his hips thrusting harder as he drives himself deeper inside of you. You can feel the heat of his release, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through your own body.

Joel collapses against you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your neck as he tries to catch his breath.

You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own as you come down from your own high. Joel's hands are still on your hips, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he tries to steady himself.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you.”

Joel slowly pulls out, and you instantly feel a pang of longing for him. You feel shy all the sudden, looking down at the ground. Joel's hand moves to your chin, gently lifting it so that you're looking at him.

"Hey, don't be shy," he says, his voice full of warmth and affection. "That was perfect, and I want to do it again."

You smile, feeling your cheeks flush with pleasure. Joel's hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"I want to see you again," his lips brushing against yours.

You nod, your heart racing in your chest. "I want that too," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel grins, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Good," he says, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

As you dress yourself, you can't help but feel a sense of guilt and shame wash over you. But the memory of the pleasure Joel gave you is too strong to resist, and you know that you'll be back for more.

[ranhaitanisgf]

heyy congrats on 2k! can i request delinquent & class president + stuck together with baji? thanks and congrats again

—baji keisuke // delinquent & student council president // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ i went. soooo . overboard . this was too good though once i got going i couldn't stoppp omg. all this is lowk inspired by that one scene from the webtoon a reason to die, so iykyk :3 thank you for requesting anon, and i hope youre still around 2 years later to read this! enjoyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ warning! small references from the 'a letter from baji keisuke' prequel series!

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

the breeze of the early evening wind was doing wonders for you at the moment; it was nice to take a moment for yourself amongst all your responsibilities and just relax. 

it was even nicer that you were able to enjoy a cold beverage after completing all your student council duties; the vending machine on the rooftop was a great investment, (you’d been against it when someone pitched the idea, but you’re so glad you approved it). all of this paired with your favorite music playing through your earbuds from your iPod? 

yeah, this was a perfect moment. 

you perked up a bit when you heard the door to the rooftop open, looking to see who was there. 

“hm? oh, baji-kun!” the boy looked over to you at the call of his name, the corners of his lips turning up when he recognized you. “what’re you still doing here? i thought you would be home already.” you asked, pulling an earbud out of your ear. 

“chifuyu and ryusei were helping me with some stuff after school and we just finished up. how ‘bout you? it’s getting pretty late.” you sighed at his query, the stress coming back to you just thinking about all the things you have left to do. 

“there was a lot of club budgeting to finish because a lot of the clubs are requesting more budget. all the presidents are getting mad at me for choosing another club over them, but it’s like, maybe if you were more productive with your club, i would allot more budget, y’know? gah, just thinking about it gives me a headache…i haven’t even finished the revised budgeting for half of them…” you shook your head, sighing at the predicament. when you looked back up, you saw baji adjusting his glasses awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“sorry about that, baji-kun. i just came up here for a small break from it and ended up complaining about it to you.”

“nah, it’s fine. ‘m kinda like that with studying too.” 

“oh, right! how has the studying been going for you-? wait, hm…” noticing that he was still standing, you paused, slipping your school blazer off and laying it down next to you, patting it. “here, come sit down! you don’t have to keep standing, y’know. i’m not gonna bite!” you teased, feeling satisfied when he came and sat down next to you. 

“anyways! how has the studying been? have your test scores been alright lately?” 

“yeah, they’ve been alright. enough to pass.” 

“i’m glad to hear it! you’re improving so much, it’s so impressive! oh, you can also always ask me for a tutoring session or if you need anything. that’s what i’m here for!” you offered, smiling at him. “i admire your diligence, so i’m happy to help with anything!” 

baji nodded at your words, a small smile on his lips. “yeah, thanks.” 

after a few moments of silence, you offered one of your earbuds to baji, who accepted. you weren’t sure if the two of you had the same music taste, but you figured it was worth a try, and surprisingly, he didn’t seem to complain at all. in fact, he even complimented your song choice, which made you feel a very normal amount of happy. a very normal amount. 

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

you were scared awake by a sudden yell, jerking as you immediately sat up, wondering what was going on. 

“hey!! open this door right now!!” the banging on the door drew your attention to baji, who was no longer by your side and was yelling at the door. “hello?! shit…” he walked away from it, sighing a bit. 

now that you were a bit more awake and coherent, you realized that it was dark outside. 

oh shit…

“ohhh my god, i’m gonna be in so much trouble, ohhhh my god…” you mumbled, scrambling for your phone to check what time it was. when you finally found it and flipped it open, the only thing that popped up on the screen was the dead battery symbol, making you groan. 

“uh…” baji started, seeming a bit awkward. “the door…is locked.” 

“what?!” you exclaimed, shooting up and walking towards the door. you tried the doorknob to no avail, proving baji’s words to be true. “oh my god…dude, i’m so dead. school administration might actually kill me if they find out about this…” 

baji was running a hand through his hair, also seeming to be very stressed. “my mom’s gonna kick my ass…” 

now that you were looking more closely, you realized that baji had ditched his glasses and that his ponytail was gone, making him seem almost unrecognizable. in fact, you might not have recognized him if you’d passed by him on the street looking this way. 

in all honesty, he actually looked so much better without the thick lenses of his glasses blocking the view of his amber eyes, and you thought that his dark hair being free from a hair tie suits him a lot better. you’re curious to see how he dresses outside of school now; he would probably fit streetwear pretty good-

wait, you have to focus. there are more important things to be thinking about right now. 

right, right. 

focus. 

“baji-kun, does your phone have any battery?” 

“no…” he mumbled, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at the sky. you sighed, trying to think of something. in the midst of your thinking, a chilly breeze blew by, making you shiver a bit. 

“ahh, i can’t believe this is happening.” you murmured, laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. “actually though, i’m sorry about this, baji-kun. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.” you said, feeling a bit guilty. after all, you had been the one who had offered for him to sit down with you, and from what you remember, you were the one who fell asleep. 

“it’s fine, i fell asleep too.” he said, leaning down to grab your school blazer off of the floor. “here, put this back on. it’s cold.” he tossed it over to you and you gladly accepted it, brushing some of the dust off before slipping it on. it helped a bit against the cold, but you supposed you underestimated how chilly the nights get in the spring. 

baji sat back down, taking his school blazer off and setting it beside him, loosening his lie. he leaned his head back against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. he seemed to have given up in trying to get someone’s attention, instead accepting the situation. you were about to sit down again and do the same, but you suddenly got an idea, shuffling around in your pockets for some spare change. 

“yes! 500 yen!” you whispered excitedly, walking up to the vending machine. “hey, baji-kun, do you like red bean?” 

“huh? yeah, why?”

“one sec…” you answered, putting the coins in the machine. you picked out two red bean buns, watching as they slowly dispensed and fell into the bottom compartment. reaching into the bottom, you grabbed both of them, walking a few steps and sitting next to baji. 

“i mean, it isn’t exactly dinner, but it’s something!” you said, offering one of the buns to baji. he accepted it, saying something about paying you back as he opened the wrapper, immediately taking a huge bite. you did the same, not realizing how hungry you were until you started eating it. 

“i’m actually such a genius for this!” you exclaimed, continuing to munch on the bread. “it’s so lucky that i ended up approving the budget for this vending machine!” silence fell over the two of you as you continued eating, but you felt more content than awkward. you’re glad that you ended up stuck here with someone nice like baji. 

speaking of baji, you were still a bit caught off guard by how different he looked without his glasses and ponytail. of course, you’d noticed how cute he was even before, but the word you would go with now is more like…attractive? 

really attractive, but still cute. 

“what?” 

“huh?” 

“you were lookin’ at me.” you felt your cheeks flush, a bit embarrassed at the fact that he caught you looking at him. 

“oh, i was just thinking, you look a lot different without your glasses. do you actually need them?” baji seemed to think for a moment before he spoke again. 

“nah, i jus’ don’t want people gettin’ the wrong idea about me.” he ended up saying. “i’m trying to get better with school, so if i go around lookin’ the way i do…” 

“girls will be attracted to you?” baji sputtered at your words, almost spitting out the bread that was in his mouth. 

“hah?! no!! it’s ‘cause i don’t want people knowing i’m in a gang!!” your jaw dropped at his words, and he subsequently smacked his hand over his face. 

the information was a huge shock to you. of course, you’d heard the rumors, but you’d chalked them up to just that; rumors. after all, even though baji wasn’t someone with perfect grades, you always saw him trying his best to get his grades up, and you really admired that. 

“you…pff…you’re in a gang?! riiight…” you managed to get out, giggles starting to overtake your words. “baji-kun, you literally dressed in a sailor school uniform to get extra tutoring-!” 

“hey! that was one time!” he grumbled, his ears turning pink. you finished laughing, wiping some tears from your eyes as you calmed down. 

“okay okay, sorry. i mean, are you being serious though?” you asked, feeling a bit curious.

“yeah. only losers lie about stuff like that.” 

“okay, which one then?” 

“toman.” again, your mouth dropped at his answer, but you recovered quicker than before. 

“t-toman, like tokyo manji gang…right. yes. wait, would you get arrested if people found out you were in a gang? why can’t anybody know?”

“it’s ‘cause then random dudes start showin’ up at school to fight, and then i get in trouble for fighting.”

“ohh, i guess that makes sense. why would they bother you at school though? school isn’t the place for that stuff…”

“dunno. it just gets annoying to deal with after a while, and my mom always kicked my ass when the school called her, so it was kinda crap.” you nodded thoughtfully at his words. 

“well, your secret’s safe with me, baji-kun! pinky promise i won’t say a word to anyone!” you held your pinky out, but he just looked away from you. 

“i believe you, you don’t have to-”

“c’mon!! it’s not a pinky promise if you don’t lock pinkies, y’know.” 

“...fine.” you cheered as baji relented, gently wrapping his pinky around yours. you shook your crossed pinkies and let go, feeling satisfied, (why did that small contact with him make your heart skip a beat?) 

“there! and you can beat me up or something if i break it.” you joked, leaning your head back against the wall.

“i’m not gonna beat you up.” 

“eh? why not?” 

“i don’t hit girls.” he said matter of factly, his tone quite serious. “only assholes hit girls.” you stared at him for a moment, seeing the dead serious look on his face before you smiled, closing your eyes. 

“y’know, you’re a pretty stand up guy, baji-kun. i like that about you.” you hadn’t meant to say the last part, but you were hoping he would just ignore it. 

“...thanks.” after that, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you, the only light source being the moon. you enjoyed living in tokyo, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was the fact that you couldn’t see the stars at all. 

“this wall is so uncomfortable…” you muttered, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep again. you’d long since given up on trying to get off the rooftop, so you figured that you might as well get some sleep since you were sure tomorrow was going to be interesting, (you weren’t looking forward to having that conversation with the principal). 

abruptly, you felt baji’s arm across your chest, pushing the side of your head to land on his shoulder. 

“better?” he asked, seeming to have no reaction. 

“uh, yeah…isn’t this uncomfortable for you though?” 

“nah.” 

“o-okay…” you said hesitantly. if you weren’t so tired, you probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep from how flustered you were right now; after all, you’ve never had a boy offer you his shoulder to sleep on, so why wouldn’t you be flustered?

it definitely wasn’t because it was baji. 

definitely not….

it was definitely because it was baji. 

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

bonus: 

chifuyu and ryusei both looked down at the sight in front of them, shock filling their bodies. 

they’d been worried when baji had skipped the toman meeting yesterday evening, and they had been even more worried when his phone had been switched off, spending the rest of the night trying to find out what happened to him. however, now that they knew what had happened, they were about to burst their seams from laughter. 

“pff…do, hah, do we wake them up?” chifuyu whispered, his cell phone out and snapping pictures. 

“n-nah, haha, they look pretty cozy…pfff…” ryusei whispered back, his cell phone also out and snapping pictures from every angle. 

in front of them was baji and you, your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of your head, dozing off without a care in the world. he had draped his blazer over the both of you as a blanket, and if one didn’t know any better, they might think that the two of you were a couple. 

“pff…this is some good blackmail stuff,” ryusei chuckled, exuding a proud aura. “look at toman’s little keisuke, all grown up now and sleeping with his crush! that’s what dreams are made.” chifuyu spluttered at ryusei’s words, a shocked expression on his face. 

“baji-san has a crush on (y/n)-san?! isn’t she the student council president?!” he whisper-yelled. ryusei nodded and shrugged. 

“the heart wants what the heart wants, or something.” 

“both of you, shut the fuck up.” 

“eek!” 

“gah!” 

baji glared at the two boys in front of him, holding up a finger to his lips, telling them to shush. 

“what’re you still doin’ here? scram.” they both immediately made a beeline for the door, fearful of baji’s wrath after being woken up from sleep. 

baji rubbed his eyes, yawning a bit as he looked around. he’s not sure what time it is, but he’s glad that it was only those two idiots who saw the two of you and nobody else. 

we should probably get up and get to class before someone else comes up here. 

he turned to the side to wake you up, but he stopped, looking at your sleeping form. he chuckled a bit when he saw your messed up hair, wondering how it got so messed up when the two of you were sleeping sitting up. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the clouds passing by. 

just five more minutes. 

[sparrowxlake]

thinking bout cuddling with Lucy on a cold night, snuggled up under her blue vault blanket(If she still has it) and her hogging it so the only way to fix that is ofc to have her lay on top of you. Maybe a bit of smut in the end, both of you are cold right? She’s only trying to conserve body heat, so what better way then sex.

I didn't proofread this, but here ya go! Gotta keep warm somehow when Lucy is an absolute menace to share a bed with. ;3 im tempted to continue this to the morning after and let reader return the favor. another time perhaps warnings: 18+ content minors dni, all porn no plot, vaginal fingering, f!reader recieving

In your time traveling with the vault dweller, you’ve noticed that she sleeps in one of two ways: starfish or tangled with you. She’d insisted tonight to push her bedroll up with yours, something about conserving heat. It was a cool night, and you didn’t mind the thinly veiled request for physical contact. By the dim red glow of an old Nuka Cola machine, you arranged your bedrolls in the remains of what was likely a break room in the back of an old book store, low heat of desire pooling in your belly.

Lucy’d snuggled up to you, arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into lazy, tender kisses. Only, fatigue caught up with her quickly, and she was dozing a few minutes into your make-out session. 

Now, she was very much asleep, sprawled out across both bedrolls, leaving you precious little space. Half of your back is on the cold, dusty floor, and you’re freezing your ass off. Lucy’s tangled up in her blue blanket, snoring soft, oblivious to your suffering. 

It’s been a couple of hours and as much as you’d like to tough it out, you are as awake as ever. Relenting, you begin to sit up, figuring there is some sort of maintenance you can busy yourself with. The movement causes Lucy to stir, mumbling something as she further stretches out over your combined bedrolls.

Even through your discomfort and frustration, it’s sort of endearing, in the most annoying sort of way. Her hand reaches for you, and when she finds nothing, she blinks away with a frown. Taking a moment, she realizes why you’ve left and sits up suddenly, blanket falling away from her. 

“Oh shoot, I did it again. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” You give her a half-amused look and she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s fine. I’m not that tired anyway.” Your tone is nonchalant, but your body betrays your discomfort, shivering slightly against the cold. Lucy gives you a look of warning through narrowed eyes. It’s more cute than threatening, but you raise your hands in an effort to placate her anyway.

“Really, it’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Not until you get back here.” Sighing, you slide back over. Lucy scoots back onto her own bedroll, patting the space next to her. It’s warm with her body heat as you settle onto your back. She keeps to her side, turning to face you, resting a hand on your stomach. The touch has your heart skip a beat, thoughts swirling toward the unsavory.

You feel a mischievous smile spreading over your face, and before Lucy can react, you’re dragging her over top of you. She makes a sort of squeaking sound, surprised as she’s roughly repositioned. 

“So you don’t get any ideas about kicking me off of my own bedroll,” You explain, a teasing edge to her voice. 

In the red glow of the room, it’s hard to tell, but you think Lucy’s face flushes. “Actually, since you’re awake…” Her voice trails off as her hands settle over your collarbones, fingering the hem of your shirt. Oh. 

Your stomach lurches with want as she gazes down at you, your hands coming to rest on her lower back, touching warm skin where her tank top has ridden up. She shudders at your touch. “Your hands are freezing!” “Hmm, wonder why that is,” You muse sarcastically. 

Lucy gets a very distinctive look when she puts her mind to something. A fierce determination that makes your heart hammer in your chest. It, in tandem with the slight smirk she’s wearing now, is doing little to assuage the growing heat between your thighs.

“Guess I should warm you up,” She states, voice low and husky as she takes your chin in hand.

Lucy closes the distance between the two of you, lips meeting in an easy kiss. It starts slow and tender, causing you to melt into her embrace. Your hands roam the planes and curves of her back underneath her shirt as you kiss. It’s hard to form any coherent thought when kissing Lucy, even harder when you want her this badly. 

She deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping over your lips and licking into your mouth. You can’t help the low moan that slips free from your throat, and she swallows it down dutifully. You can only endure the relentless assault on your mouth until Lucy breaks away, panting roughly. 

“Don’t stop,” You gasp out, voice rough between ragged breaths.

She smirks at this, cocky at your desperation. “Geez, you want it that badly? Maybe you should ask nicely.” “Fuck, come on Lucy. Gonna make me beg after everything tonight?” You stammer, face burning.

Another night, and you wouldn’t mind being teased and edged and made to beg, but right now, you’re hovering between desire and frustration. If you lean too far toward frustration, you fear you may end up just lashing out. 

“I didn’t say beg. Just ask nicely. But if you can’t manage that…” She starts to slide off of your chest, moving back onto her bedroll. You catch her by the waist, gripping tightly to her soft flesh. She makes a low sound in her throat as you hold her firmly in place, hips bucking reflexively, betraying the intensity of your desire.

“Fine, fine! Please, don’t stop. I need you, Lucy. Please, touch me.” Your tone is edged with genuine need, hips rolling into her again. You whine, staring up at her with wide, needy eyes. Lucy’s still just smirking, trailing a finger over your jaw. 

She likes to feel powerful like this, holding you in the palm of her hand. Lucy leans down, breath hot over your ear as she whispers. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” Her hand slides down your body, cupping you through the material of your pants and underwear. You’re whining all over again, unable to will your hips to still as you writhe against her. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” She murmurs, lightly nipping at your earlobe before trailing her mouth over your jawline. 

Your head spins at the praise, another moan escaping your lips. Her fingers unbutton your pants, giving her better access as she slides a hand over your underwear. You’re already wet, your arousal coating your underwear as her fingers rub slow circles over your clothed slit. You arch into her touch, whimpering. Lucy’s fingers work over you expertly, relieving some of the pressure between your thighs with slow circling motions. The friction of her fingers and your underwear is exquisite and not enough. You try to rock in time with her movements, but the pace is maddening. You need so much more.

All the while, Lucy’s mouth is on your neck, leaving red patches in the wake of her mouth. She’s deliberate in each kiss, each lick, each bite, slowly building your arousal. She’s murmuring praise into your skin, most of it muffled and unintelligible, but you can make some of it out. “Feel so good for me.” “Doing such a good job.” “So pretty.” You can only respond with breathless moans and whines and pleas for more. When her fingers finally dip into your underwear, a choked sound rips from your throat, fingers finally stroking over your aching clit. The direct contact is exactly what you’ve needed. Your hips buck into her touch, seeking more friction.

There’s no more teasing in her touch, she’s intent on bringing you to your peak now. She’s stroking over you firmly, mouthing roughly over your neck and shoulder. Your fingers scrape over her back, trying to cling to her, trying to mold your body against hers. 

“Please, right there. Fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop.” It’s all slurred together as you plead with her. Lucy’s panting against your neck, “I know, I’ve got you.” The sensation of her mouth and fingers takes you over the edge, body jerking upward to meet her fingers as they relentlessly rub at your clit. You come apart in a flurry of moans and curses, riding the waves of your pleasure as Lucy continues to stroke you through it until you’re trembling under her, pulling her hand away with a whimper. 

She settles against your chest, head resting against your shoulder with a contented hum. Her fingers draw idle patterns over your shirt as your breath evens out, losing yourself in the warmth of your afterglow. 

“Mmm, that was nice,” You sigh, voice slurred with satisfaction. 

Your arms encircle her middle, pulling her tighter against your chest, heart swelling with contentment and affection. She nuzzles into the crook of your neck, reaching with her free hand to run her fingers through your damp hair. 

When you’re snuggled together like this, it’s easy to let everything else fall away. Any frustration or troubles melt away in the security of your embrace. It’s hard not to feel anything but warmth and safety and affection when Lucy’s soothingly stroking your hair. “Get some rest,” She whispers into your neck. “I’ll try not to steal the blankets this time.” You give a soft chuckle, tilting your head down to press a kiss into Lucy’s hair. “You’d better not, or there’ll be consequences,” You warn, no bite to your threat.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” She jokes, voice tinged with fatigue. 

Lucy tilts her face upward, gazing at you with warmth and adoration. It makes your heart flutter with deeper emotions. She gives one final kiss, soft and tender, before tucking her head back against your shoulder. “Rest,” She instructs in a stern tone, eyes falling shut as she speaks.

You sigh and oblige, settling in for what is left of the night. True to her word, she remains curled against your chest for the night, leaving you both securely wrapped in her blue blanket, drifting off to sleep tangled up in each other.

[zealousllamawolf]

Lost in the Woods (Alastor x Reader) Part 2

!!Minors Please DNI!!

Pairing- Alastor x Reader

Summary- After having a heated moment before someone interrupts Alastor eagerly comes back to show you what you had missed.

Word Count- 1.7K

Warnings- none I think

Tags- SMUT, blood sharing, rough sex, p in v, oral (Alastor receiving) OOC Alastor if you blink.

Part 1

~Alastor’s POV~

  Alastor scuffs as he pulls Nifty out of the ice machine behind that bar sitting her down, wiping the ice flakes off her nose. “There you go dear’ he wipes his hands on his coat, turning to look at Charlie. “Now, was all you need darling,’ a hint of annoyance bubbled over, eager to return to your disheveled body in the bayou.

  “Yes, sorry about that,” Charlie shuffles awkwardly at his impatience.

  ‘’You know how Nifty is, who knows what bug she went after.” Alastor chuckles patting Nifty on the head, lighting up his tone. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have business to attend to” he smiles mischievously as he disappears back into the shadows moving through them to his room.

  Desire once returning to his crotch stretching the fabric tautly, clearing his throat once he remembers the feeling of your cunt under in fingers, wondering if you were wet below the thin barrier of clothes. Alastor decision to leave his shadow to watch over you paid off; there you were stripping off your clothes down to just your undergarments as he watched though his shadow’s eyes. You make your way over the pond’s dock before sticking your foot in the water seemly to evaluate the temperature.

  Once Alastor reaches his room, he teleported to the edge of the pond near the dock behind you. Taking in your figure though half-lidded eyes his stare trails up and down your body stopping around your plump backside before noticing a large thin scar that trailed around your waist following the curve of your hip before stopping above your lower back. You were perfect, he thought to himself grinning lustfully.

  “My, my dear, it seems you have made yourself quite comfortable” his voice dropping lowly, you jump and lose your balance tipping backwards into the water. Alastor rushes forward, dropping to his knees he peers over the edge waiting for you to break the surface for air, when you didn’t come back up after a long thirty seconds the duckweed blocking his view under the water Alastor quickly stands up and throw off his coat off, kicking off his shoes unbuttoning his shirt before scanning the water’s surface again. He leans down again over the dock’s edge as your faces pops up under a lily pad hiding underneath staring up at Alastor grinning.

“Oh, you checky girl.” Alastor says breathlessly hanging his head lowly in relief, the tension leaving his shoulders. Why did he feel such a need to dive in the water after you? He wanted to protect you, keeping you all to himself, wanted to mark you and show everyone you were his and his only. Anger starter to rise unable to catch his breath, he pants out “Never do that again,’ wincing at his sharp tone he adds, “Please,’ softly.

He watches you swim up to him resting your arms on the dock you grab his arm reassuringly, “Okay, I won’t if you come in here with me” you say pushing yourself up enough out of the water and plant a soft kiss on his cheek before trailing kisses down his jawline, Alastor growls in response hastily shedding his shirt and pants. A night swim is a bad idea anyways, Alastor indulges.

 He sits down with his feet over the edge before slipping in the lukewarm water completely submerging himself even though he can touch the bottom. He feels his shoulder being yanked up by your hands, so he abides rising himself up out the water, directly in front of you. You wrap your hands around his shoulders and link your legs around his waist. Alastor groans at the sudden pressure pressing against his crotch and bring his hands to your hips noticing your panties were no longer on your bottom as well as your bare chest pressing against his, in the distance he sees your undergarments floating at the surface.

 “Ha, ha so eager little doe.” Alastor says as he runs his hands to your ass cheeks gripping them tightly. You throw back your head grinding against his hardening cock. “But patience is a virtue,’ he says teasing.

  Alastor twists around with you still connected at the hips. He pushes further into the water on his back, the movement sliding his length down your uncovered core making you moan at the friction. Resting your hands on his chest you arch your back allowing him to see your breasts peeking up out of the water duckweed sticking to your upper half.

  “But Alastor, I need you,’ you say pleadingly.

  “Oh, forgive me but I thought we were taking a nice night swim?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, making you frown in desperation, Alastor gins enjoying teasing you knowing he will not be able to hold out much longer as his cock twitches with desire.

  You lean down and plant a feverish kiss directly on his, sliding your tongue on his bottom lip tasting a hint a blood from his fresh cut lip. The heat from your kiss snaps something in Alastor and in an instant, he teleports both of you to the closest tree, pushing you against the trunk. He deepens the kiss exploring your mouth feeling one of your sharp canines nick his bottom lip making you kiss him more intensity. Alastor pulls back with a low groan.

  “You know idea what you are doing to me my dear,” Alastor says breathless shuddering when you run your fingers through his hair gripping at the root making him suck in a breath.

  “S-show me, Al” you beg grinding on his cock.

  “It hurts that you assume I would give in that quickly silly girl.” Alastor lies slickly through his teeth, chuckling when you pout at him although it does not last too long before you unwrap your legs from his waist and start to get on your knees running your hands down his chest as you meet the ground stopping when you reach his hips. “So perfect,’ he whispers when you start to pull down his briefs.

  You look up with pleading eyes “May I sir?” his cock twitched at being called ‘sir,’ he runs his thumb on your cheekbone glowing down at you and nods.

  He used his spare arm and rest it against the tree letting out a moan as you free his throbbing cock, the cool air cooling his precum that started to gather at his aching red tip. He watches as you stare hungrily at his length groaning as your mouth encases his tip, sliding down taking him inch by inch till your mouth takes all of him.

  “So sweet of you taking my cock like a good girl.” Alastor gasps as you pull him out of your mouth twirling your tongue around his tip before diving back down again picking up speed, moaning sends vibrations all around his cock, resulting in him thrusting into to your mouth going past the curve of your throat. “Mmh, you make me feel so good darling,” you look up at him unable to say anything as he gently thrusts into your mouth tears forming in your eyes. You slide him out of your mouth with a pop.

 “Are you going to show me now how much I make you feel good now?” you ask cheekily, Alastor respond by picking you back up like you weighed nothing, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist again, teasing you with his tip lined up with your dripping entrance. Aching your back made his tip slip in making you moan at the sensation; you try to lower yourself further on to his cock but his firm hands stops you. You look at him with a crazed face, but he just stares at you grinning maliciously before thrusting into you with such force making you release all the air from your lungs. You gasp unable to catch your breath as he does not stop before pulling out of you, slamming back into your gummy walls. “O-oh God,” you shudder.

  “No dear its only me here and me only making you feel this way.” Alastor starts roughing fucking you into the tree. He does not stop there, forcing your legs higher pressing them against your chest, all that was holding you up now was your back firmly pressed against the tree and the pace he thrusted into you. Every time he pulls out, his tip pressed against your g-spot making waves of pleasure course though your body, he feels your walls clamp around his cock. Alastor changes his angle until he hits the right spot making you moan his name, hearing his name come out of your swollen lip makes him go feral, the coil in his stomach tightens further, he knows your close too when your legs start to push against his hands.

  “Just like that Alastor, please” you beg tears falling down your face, your whole body tightens, and he hears you scream his name as your release floods your body, your walls spasming around his cock.

  “Almost there little doe.” He growls picking up his pace to unnatural pace chasing his own high.

  “C-can I bite you?” you say fixed gaze at his neck.

  “Yes, dear take your fill” you don’t wait till be finished speaking as your bit down hard at the curve of this throat, making his groan in pain, the sensation spread though his body right down to his cock, with one last trust he finishes inside of you panting. You do not stop your assault running your tongue against the wound you created until the blood stopped flowing freely.

  Pulling back both of you panting with his cock still buried deep in your cunt. He pulls out, his seed pouring out of your elevated cunt. You close your eyes as he carries you to his bedroom, he whispers pressing his mouth to your ear, “You did so well, but now it time for you to rest. You have a very busy night ahead of you.” He says softly.

  That was the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms. Alastor sighs contently with you sleeping on his chest, he slowly traced your faded scar wondering what happened.

~~~

A/N

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

____________________________________________________

Tag List

@cutesytwt @opulentshits @elegant-face-tree @walnutnut @lustylita

[ninguitar]

LOVE ON A WIRE.　 11. our song btw wc. 9OO+

❛ megan has never, ever wanted anything as bad in her life, until you—an underground singer and songwriter, is unemployed, and the textbook definition of a loser—stroll into her heart and her life. matter of fact, what happens when she accidentally replies to your thirst-traps that were a rebounding joke after a rough break-up, on twitter, and on the katseye account? ❜

tucked away in the heart of the city, the cafe you found yourself in was as warm as it seemed from the outside; it was dimly-lit from the windows engulfed by the thick curtains. an elderly woman stood behind the register, busy at one of the coffee machines. a gentle spring of rain taps against the windows, giving a light pitter-patter, as you watched the clock's hands tick.

"am i late?" a soft voice echoes through your head, while somebody's breath fanning over your neck. your heart drops for a second, before your head jolts up, noticing ginger hair in your line of view.

you mutter under your breath, "jesus, don't creep up on me like that," you lightly joke, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips. you pat the seat beside you, beckoning for her to sit.

her eyes crease into crescents, as she sits down, scanning the menu. your gaze fixates on her before you realize, your hands curling around a bouquet of flowers, "i, uh, got this for you." you stumble over your words, apprehension washing over your face, as you try to decipher her facial expression. you shift in your seat.

"really—for me?" her eyes soften at your actions, her hand brushing against yours, as she takes the flowers from you. "these are just... wow. thank you, really." heat curls at megan's cheeks as she speaks, hoisting the flowers up as though she won a prize.

a relieved sigh drifts from your lips, as you nod, "good, good. i was hoping they weren't too much." you chuckle, as you look over the menu, deciding what to order.

"nothing could be too much," she reassures you, her lips quirking up into a gentle smile, "how are you anyway?" and it was as though she could tell you were radiating nerves, a smile adorning your own lips. you nod through with a laugh, "i'm good—slightly overwhelmed with the new record but still alright and a little nervous."

"nervous, really?" megan murmurs, dramatically gasping as if it was such a shocker, "busy with school though, aren't you?" she asks, as she eyes the menu, nodding her head as a gesture for you to continue talking.

your cheeks flush, "a little, i guess," grabbing your own menu; you were grateful that you were able to have something to occupy your hands to keep them from sweating. she met your gaze over the menu, scrunching her nose, "you don't have to be so nervous, you know." megan tries to reassure you, patting your back.

and the moment she said that, you obliged—words falling freely out of your lips without a second thought, especially because megan was too easy to talk with.

the chinese girl shuffles through the vast menu, asking, "you think their latte's any good?" in response, you shrug half-heartedly, your gaze slightly studying megan's features, "you never know—you could always try it," you suggest, and she nods.

before megan could stand up to order, your hand rests on her shoulder, and getting up from your seat, you shake your head, "i'll order, it's fine." a grin curbs your lips, as you order, slipping a bill to the cashier, and turning around to make sure the chinese girl wouldn't notice you were paying instead of her—her eyes fixated on the bundle of flowers.

receiving your guys' orders almost immediately, you sit back down, sliding the latte to megan. you blow air on yours, trying to cool the scalding cup down. on the other-hand, her latte steams gracefully on the table, waiting to cool down on its own.

"you working on anything else?" the ginger-headed girl catches herself awed at every single movement you make, and leaning forward, she clears her throat.

you shrug, "here and there, nothing important though," and an amused smirk adorns her face. the chinese girl shakes her head, remarking, "c'mon, i'm sure you have a lot of good songs comin' up. you could always—i don't know—show me some of them."

you chuckle, shooting her a look, "maybe, but they're not like, professionally produced or anythin'." megan pats your shoulder, coaxing, "you could always come to the studio with me."

biting your cheek, your eyebrows furrow, "i guess i could, maybe." you sigh as if you had no other choice, while the chinese girl beside you had excitement exuding from her skin, her eyes twinkling with mischief at your words. she locks eyes with you, heat flaring at her cheeks, as she nudges your shoulder playfully.

with her voice taking on a teasing edge, she snickers, mimicking your tone, "i guess i'll take you there, if you really want to," she exaggerates, pursing her lips, while you shoot a glance at her, a giggle falling shortly from your lips. you feign annoyance at her actions, rolling your eyes, before getting up, intertwining her hand with yours to help her up.

shortly though, before you guys could reach the door, she interjects, "wait— what about the bill!" and you couldn't help but suppress a smile on your face because if you didn't, inevitably your behavior would betray the way your heart pounds for her. you shrug, "i paid for it."

an incredulous look washes over megan's features, as she sucks in her teeth dramatically, shaking her head playfully, "this was meant to be my treat! you paying defeats the whole purpose, yn!" the chinese girl rolls her eyes.

PREV.　MASTERLIST.　NEXT.

A/N. loser & girl failure yn MY goat.

𝓽aglist (closed 46/46) :

@sed7ction @1luvkarina @ssamlovr @goofymickeyr @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @meganskiendielsbtc @fruityg0rl @fearnotfearmore @justtluvrr @meiyaes @sixflame438 @arihiu @vrtualstar @grahstumhurts @jaythegirlkisser @namojoon @saysirhc @gtfoiydlyj @catdonut657 @inybits @vivilvr @c-yerim @meizinisnumberone @blue-kye @linnnsworld @k31k0w @hazel-tanthamore22 @raviolisupremacy @cassiespoiler @weirdossclub @sunshinez4 @xochitlisbest @ratzeye @meiphobic @soobnotfound @kristalag @snoopyiz @itzkatflixs @spongebobtentacles @mirophobic @apersonwhowrites @bowforgodjihyo @mandydxndy @chuugetmesohigh @karli6

[mytherapyisreading14]

Movie Night

Summary: Spencer finally has the courage to ask you out

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfiction I've written. English is not my first language and I don't have much experience with writing yet. If there’s anything to improve, let me know! :)

The smell of freshly ground coffee fills the air, and the clinking of cups and the quiet murmuring of others fills the room. Spencer sits at his desk with a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him. He stares at the stack of case files on his desk waiting to be processed. You sit across from him at the table and his eyes keep moving to you. You are completely absorbed in your work and bite your lip every now and then when you need to concentrate particularly. He's noticed you for a while now - since the day you joined the BAU. You got along well from the start and it didn't take long for Spencer to fall in love with you. And today is the moment when he finally has to ask you out. He takes a deep breath, sits up and clears his throat quietly.

“Um... Can I disturb you for a moment?" he asks. You look up to him. “Of course you can. I need a break from all these files anyway,” you say and smile. Spencer becomes nervous as he meets your gaze, but he forces himself to remain calm. “Spence, is everything alright? You look kind of nervous,” you say, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah, um... well, yeah. Everything’s fine, thank you.” He scratches his head nervously and feels his heart beating faster. “I wanted to... uh, ask you something. For a while now. I wanted to ask you if you would like to do something together? I uh, mean outside of work. Well, not that this isn’t nice to work with you! It is nice to work with you, uh, I mean you are nice. So…?“ he rambles.

You look at him for a second, as if contemplating his words. Spencer sees you putting down the pen and slowly frowning - not in the sense of misunderstanding, but more of curiosity. “You mean a date?” you ask him. Spencer blushes and nods, a little too quickly so his glasses almost fall off his nose. “Yes, exactly. A date. If you want. So, I dunno, maybe a movie night? Or... or a walk? Or maybe dinner? Something where we can… uh… talk?” he says. You laugh softly, and for a moment Spencer feels like he's in a bad dream. You're probably not interested in him after all and he, being the idiot that he is, thought that maybe this time it would be different. But then you look him straight in the eyes and your voice is like music to his ears.

“Sounds good, Spence. A movie night actually sounds nice. We can watch Star Trek if you want. I wanted to watch the movie again. When do you have time?" Spencer blinks, as if he's not sure he misheard. Then a shy smile spreads across his face and he blushes slightly. “Um... how about tomorrow?” he asks. “Perfect. Tomorrow at seven?” you ask him with a smile on your face. Spencer nods, a little more determined this time. “You can come over, we can do it at my apartment,” he says. A big step, but it feels right somehow. He smiles when he realizes you’re actually interested and goes back to work.

-

The elevator glides up silently, the quiet hum of the machines filling the room. Reid was standing off to the side as always, his gaze fixed on the floor. Morgan, on the other hand, leans relaxed against the wall, a smug grin on his face. He expected this moment for a long time. “So… what was that with you and pretty girl this morning?” Reid jumps and gives him a confused look. “What are you talking about?” he asks. You know exactly what I mean,” Morgan grins even wider. “You've been staring at her all day. Again. And later you couldn’t stop grinning.”

Reid continues to stare at the floor as his heartbeat suddenly increases. “I wasn’t staring at her…” he murmurs, but his voice sounded anything but convincing. Morgan could hardly suppress his laughter. “Sure, Reid. That's exactly what you did. And you looked like you were stuck in another dimension.” Reid couldn't help but give a quiet, nervous smile. "Perhaps..." he agrees. Morgan laughs loudly and nudges him playfully. “Come on, Pretty Boy! What's wrong with you? For weeks now you can't even say two words near her without getting tangled in your own tongue. But today…” Morgan raises an eyebrow.

Reid slowly turns to him and stares at him as if to make sure no one else was in the elevator. The question hung in the air. Then, in an almost whispering tone, he says, "I asked her." Morgan stares at him as if he didn't hear that correctly. "What?" he asks. “I asked her if she... wanted to go out with me," Reid says, still a little unsure but also proud that he'd even manages to say it. Morgan's eyes widen and for a moment he is completely speechless. Then the grin breaks out of him. “Oh, my God, you actually did it!” he says.

Reid nods, a little shy but also relieved. "Yes. I thought, if I'm going to look like an idiot all day, at least I can do it right," he says. “You're a damn hero,” Morgan says, patting him on the shoulder, “I knew you'd wake up eventually! So what did she say?” he asks. Reid's face lits up for a moment. “She said yes. She’s coming over for a movie night tomorrow.” Morgan shakes his head and grins. “I told you. You could have asked her much earlier.” Reid rolls his eyes the elevator stops and as the doors open Morgan nudges him again. “Well then, Pretty Boy, nice weekend and have fun.” he says and winks.

-

The doorbell rings and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He opens it hesitantly, squinting nervously at his hands. “Hi… um, hi!” he stammers when he sees you. Your gaze glides over the small but comfortably furnished apartment. “Wow, your apartment is really nice. I like the bookshelves,” you say, entering. Spencer exhales in relief – that sounds good. “Uh, thanks. I...um, tried a bit...to make it comfortable. The apartment, of course, not the bookshelves,” he murmurs as he closes the door behind you, almost hitting himself on the doorframe.

You put your things down and sit on the couch. Spencer’s heart beats even faster, but he tries to stay calm. “So, uh…I was thinking about ordering food. How about Thai food? I know you eat it pretty often,” he says. “Sounds perfect, you’re right, I love Thai,” you say and smile. Spencer nods and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Thai, it is. I'll order us something." He goes into the kitchen and looks at the screen of his phone, nervously running his finger across the screen. The choice suddenly feels overwhelming. "I assume you like... uh, spicy?" he asks without looking back. “Spicy is great,” you shout from the couch. You looks around again.

“Spence, is it okay if I go change in the bathroom really quick?” you call out to him. “Yeah, no problem.” he calls back. You stand up and enter the bathroom where you take off your tight jeans to slip into comfortable gray sweatpants. When you come back out Spencer is sitting on the couch too. “I hope you’re not disappointed that I’m, um, putting on my sweatpants,” you say as you settle back onto the couch. “I just wanted to be comfortable.” Spencer looks at you. “No, that’s… uh, that’s totally okay.,” he stammers. “I actually wanted to throw myself into something comfortable, but… um, I decided not to.” He nervously scratches the back of his head. You laugh quietly. “Well, we still have time before the food comes. You can still do it if you want. Would you like to start a movie while we wait?” you ask. Spencer grins and shrugs. “Star Trek?” he asks. “Sounds good,” you answer with a laugh and Spencer suddenly feels a little less nervous.

-

The television flickers in soft blue tones and casts an unobtrusive light onto the living room. The empty remains of the meal are on the coffee table. The air still smells of chili and coconut. Spencer sits on the couch, legs tucked under him, leaning back. The film is over and the credits roll. But he hardly notices anything about it. His eyes are on you. You threw the blanket over your shoulders, the corner of it wrapped around your bodies and as the movie ended you slowly moved closer to him. Your head rests gently on his shoulder, so inconspicuously, as if it were the most natural moment in the world. You look up at him and give him a small, mischievous smile.

“The movie was pretty good, wasn’t it?” you joke with a sleepy voice but full of enthusiasm. “Yes, really good! Not to be expected otherwise,” Spencer chuckles. He can't take his eyes off you. You seem relaxed - and you are closer to him than ever before. You shift closer to him and your hand happens to touch his but you don't notice because you're talking about something related to movie. He can smell the faint scent of you - something floral, lavender he assumes - and he has a hard time tearing his eyes away from your eyes. He never thought you would lean on him so naturally. But you do. And it feels good.

“I… um, well…” Spencer starts, but then he gets lost in the look you give him and the words disappear. He actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to eat more of that curry you ordered, but now it all seems far too fleeting. It almost feels like he's entering another world, one where it's just you and him. You notice the silence, looking at him with a curious smile. "What? Do you want to say anything else?” Spencer swallows. “Uh, no. I… um, just wanted to…” He blushes and then turns slightly to you. “It's really nice that you're here.”

You look at him for a long time, and a small moment of silence spreads until you finally, almost imperceptibly, lean your head a little closer to his shoulder. Spencer's heart beats faster and he feels like he's in slow motion. What if you notice how nervous he is? What if he does something wrong? “You’re really cute, you know that?” you say suddenly, and the words come out so casually that he’s almost not sure if he’s just imagining them. You lift your head slightly, look into his eyes and smile. “I mean, you're just... really pleasant to be around. I like hanging out with you.” Spencer is so surprised that for a moment he doesn't know how to react. “Really?” he asks, his voice a little too high, as if he’s not quite out of “I-can’t-believe-this-happened” mode.

“Yes, really,” you say, your eyes now so close to his that he almost holds his breath. “I was really happy to spend this evening with you. It feels somehow light and relaxed. Not like so many other dates where you feel kind of uncomfortable the whole time.” Spencer nods, surprised by the words, and can't help but smile a little. “Me too,” he mumbles. "Well, I liked that movie too, but... I mean, this is pretty great, you’re pretty great, too." You laugh softly and raise your hand as if to say something, then lower it again. You pull the blanket a little higher, and at the same moment Spencer notices that you're leaning a little further against him.

You close your eyes as if lost in the moment. Slowly, almost automatically, Spencer places his arm carefully around your shoulders. He's unsure if he should do this, but it feels right, and when you don't pull away, but instead snuggle a little closer to him, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Would it be okay with you if I stayed here tonight? I’m tired and don’t feel like going home,” you say. Your hand is relaxed on his thigh, and the closeness feels so natural that he almost forgets that he's never actually laid on the couch like this with a girl before. “Uh,… of course,” he says, somewhat overwhelmed. He didn't expect that, but since he doesn't want to let you out of his arms anyway, it's not a problem for him. “Good night,” he says quietly. "Good night." you say and smile. The room is quiet and then, when he feels your breathing becoming calm and even, he closes his eyes too.

[canisxx]

Hey chat! I decided that I don't care if you care or not, I'll post it anyway. Because I'm a scientist nerd, and a TF2 fan.

So here you go, my theory on how the respawn machine actually works.

⚠️It'll be a lot of reading and you need half of a braincell to understand it.

The Respawn Machine can recreate a body within minutes, complete with all previous memories and personality, as if the person never died. We all know this, but I doubt many have thought about how it actually works.

Of course, such a thing is impossible in real life (at least for now), but we’re talking about a game where there’s magic and mutant bread, so it’s all good.

But being an autistic dork, I couldn’t help but start searching for logical and scientific explanations for how this machine might work. How the hell does it actually function? So, I spent hours of my life on yet another useless big brain time.

In the context of the Respawn Machine, the idea is that the technology can instantly create a new mercenary body, identical to the original. This body must be ready for use immediately after the previous one’s death. To achieve this, the cloning process, which in real life takes months or even years, would need to be significantly accelerated. This means the machine is probably powered by a freaking nuclear reactor, or maybe even Australium.

My theory is that this machine is essentially a massive 3D printer capable of printing biological tissues. But how? You see, even today, people can (or are trying to) recreate creatures that lived millions of years ago using DNA. By using the mercenary’s DNA, which was previously loaded into the system, the machine could recreate a perfect copy.

However, this method likely wouldn’t be able to perfectly recreate the exact personality and all the memories from the previous body. I believe the answer lies in neuroscience.

For the Respawn Machine to restore the mercenary’s consciousness and memories, it would need to be capable of recording and preserving the complete structure of the brain, including all neural connections, synapses, and activity that encode personality and memory. This process is known as brain mapping. After creating a brain map, this data could be stored digitally and then transferred to the new body.

“Okay, but how would you transfer memories that are dated right up until the moment of death? The mercenaries clearly remember everything about their previous death.”

Well, I have a theory about that too!

Neural interfaces! Inside each mercenary’s head could be an implant (a nanodevice) that reads brain activity before death and updates a digital copy of the memories. This system operates at the synaptic level, recording changes in the structure of neurons that occur as memories are formed. After death, this data could be instantly transferred to the new body via a quantum network.

Once the data is uploaded and the brain is synchronized with the new body, the mercenary’s consciousness "awakens." Ideally, the mercenary wouldn’t notice any break in consciousness and would remember everything that happened right up to the moment of death.

However… there are also questions regarding potential negative consequences.

Can the transfer of consciousness really preserve all aspects of personality, or is something inevitably lost in the process?

Unfortunately, nothing is perfect, and there’s a chance that some small memories might be lost—like those buried in the subconscious. Or the person’s personality might become distorted. Maybe that’s why they’re all crazy?

How far does the implant’s range extend? Does the distance between the mercenary and the machine affect the accuracy of data transfer?

My theory is that yes, it does. The greater the distance, the fewer memories are retained.

Could there be deviations in the creation of the body itself?

Yes, there could be. We saw this in "Emesis Blue," which led to a complete disaster. But let’s assume everything is fine, and the only deviations are at most an extra finger (or organ—not critical, Medic would only be happy about that).

Well, these are just my theories and nothing more. I’m not a scientist; I’m an amateur enthusiast with a lot of time on my hands. My theories have many holes that I can’t yet fill due to a lack of information.

[shyanddreamy]

A helping hand

Niragi Suguru x Reader

Summary: Niragi wasn´t at his best moment at high school. Life was unfair with him. But you noticed him. He caught your eye. What happened between you and Niragi was much more than he could ever have imagined in his wildest dreams.

Warnings: soft Niragi, mentions of bullying, violence, smut, fluff and angst (all-in-one because why not), loss of virginity, Niragi being so fucking adorable.

Author´s note: Soooo it´s my first time posting here but I needed to write Niragi´s first time and I know you needed to read it too. English is not my first language so I apologize for any possible mistakes. I really hope you like it. Love u all <3

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Day after day, he was always alone; always in the same chair doing the same things. Exactly two hours after his arrival, he packed up his books and left for fifteen minutes before coming back with a coffee. He seemed to be pretty strict with his routine. Maybe you were a bit gossip because you had spent the last few days observing him until you learnt his schedule too. But what could you do? Studying was too boring; you needed a distraction. And he looked like an interesting one.

So that day, when he left the public library, you decided to follow him. You thought he might be going to a coffee shop, but he just was at the vending machine in the hallway.

"Hello there", you said. The boy turned back, but he looked side to side before paying attention directly to you.

"Are you talking to me?", he asked, puzzled.

"There´s no one else here except you", you answered. "Why do you carry your backpack with you just to take a break in the hallway?"

"I don´t want anyone to… steal my books"

"Cute. Are you a high-school student?", you smiled before asking, but he seemed embarrassed and confused. Anyway, he nodded. "And why don´t you study in your own school?"

"I prefer to be here. Is there any problem?"

"No, of course not. I was just curious", you said. "Do you mind if a sit next to you? I can´t concentrate by my own and you are always studying harder. Maybe I can learn something from you"

"It´s fine, I suppose"

He tried to smile, but it was more like an awkward grimace.

"I´m Y/N, by the way"

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I´m Niragi"

"It´s my pleasure, Niragi"

Since that day, you changed your favourite desk in the public library to be in the same as Niragi. Most of the time you were just sitting there in completely silence, concentrated in your own notes. He was shy and everyday took him like half hour to get used to your presence. Either social skills were not his thing, or he was not used to interacting with girls.

In the coffee breaks were when you took advantage to know more about him. He was a high school senior and wanted to get good marks so he could go to the university the following year. This was your first year at the university, so you told him all about how your experience was. People, teachers, classes, environment… it was pretty different in comparison with high school, and he seemed hopeful at your description.

Ultimately, studying with Niragi was nice. You found yourself thinking that you even felt like going to the library every afternoon, far from the laziness you felt before. But everything changed the day you saw a bruised on his cheekbone. You noticed he didn´t want to look at you at all since you were sitting in front of him and you assumed that was the reason.

After nearly fifteen minutes of hesitation about what you should do, you grabbed him by the chin and forced his face upwards. He also had traces of dried blood next to his nose.

"What happened to you?"

"It´s nothing", he answered trying to hide behind his own hair.

"It doesn´t look like nothing"

He slapped your hand away from his chin and lowered his face again. It was strange because he has never been so rude before. And before you could say anything, he grabbed his backpack and his books and ran away. You went after him without hesitation after quickly gathering your things too.

"Hey, Niragi!", you called out in the hallway getting him to stop. He had no way of escape. "I didn´t want to bother you"

"I´m sorry. It´s my fault", he apologized, turning slowly towards you with his gaze fixed on his feet and his hands clenched into fists.

"No, it´s not", you answered a bit concerned. Anyway, you tried to sound calm. "Has anyone done this to you? Maybe a classmate?"

"No. It´s nothing", he insisted, but you noticed his weeping eyes. You were pretty sure that you spot on. So carefully, you took his hand between yours to get his attention.

"I know that we have fifteen minutes to get a coffee, but I think that, only for today, we should take a longer break"

"I-I´m not sure"

You smiled cheerfully.

"Trust me"

Niragi followed you tamely, but after ten minutes walking down the street, he started to get nervous. Even more when you entered in an apartment building.

"Where are we going?", he asked to you, but you waited to answer until you were in front of your door.

"To my house", you said while you opened it. "It´s not too much, but I can´t afford any more"

"Do you live on your own?"

"Getting a job while you are at college is not much fun, but it´s better than live with my father, that´s for sure", you explained briefly. "C´mon in. I don´t bite"

However, Niragi was suspicious. While you entered in the kitchen, he sat down in the sofa frowned. It was pretty obvious how uncomfortable he was.

"Why did you bring me here?", he asked you suspicious. "I-I shouldn’t be here. Maybe I´d better leave"

When you returned to the living room, you did so with a packet of frozen vegetables in your hand and interrupted his words.

"I don´t have ice, but it will work too", you sat down next to him and pointed to his bruised. "It seems recent, so cold will help. May I?"

Niragi opened his eyes in surprise, realising that you were trying to lend him a hand. He didn´t seem to be used to anyone helping him. And in a way, it was enough to calm him down a bit.

"Don´t worry. I can do it myself"

"It´s ok. I want to do it for you"

He smiled slightly and finally nodded. You remained silence for a few minutes to make him feel comfy while you took care of his bruise carefully. However, you needed to know what really had happened to him.

"So… do you have any problems at high school?", you asked him prudently, but Niragi was still reluctant to speak. "Stay quiet only helps bullies. It´s not beneficial to you"

"I-It´s nothing new. And I can´t do anything. I tried once, but it only got worse", Niragi mumbled. "I am only a few months away from graduation, I can bear it until then"

In that kind of situations, people used to say that you should talk with a teacher or an adult, but it is easier said than done. And as much as you would like to do something about it, you couldn’t force him to do something he didn´t want to.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I don´t want to be a nuisance, although, well, I am being one already", he muttered. As nervous as he still was, he dared to look you in the eyes. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because you are a nice guy, Niragi", you pointed out, setting aside the packet of frozen vegetables.

"We hardly know each other"

"Yeah, I actually know so little about you because you barely talk about yourself, and yet, I´m sure you deserve much better than this"

Your words were enough to make him blush. Damn, he was adorable. You liked his shyness and how easily he got nervous with little things. But he also was clever and pretty interesting if you give him the opportunity to get comfortable enough to talk openly. High school students weren´t really your type, but Niragi could be the exception.

When you put your hand up to his face, caressing his cheek softly, he seemed confused.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"W-What?", Niragi stammered as he shrugged his shoulders. "W-why do you want to know that?"

"Because I want to kiss you. If you want it too, of course."

He looked even more flustered than usual but, at least, he didn´t turn away from your touch.

"You don´t have to do that out of pity"

"It´s not like that", you assured him. "I do want to kiss you"

"But why would you do that?"

"Because I see you, Niragi. I really see you. And I like all what I see"

"I don´t… understand"

"Maybe one day you will"

You approached a bit more until there were only a few inches between your lips. And still caressing his cheek and his hair, you finally kissed him very softly. His mouth didn’t answer at first, but when you started moving your own lips, he did his best to follow your pace. It was obvious it was his first kiss because of his clumsiness, but you were glad to be his teacher. The only thing you wanted was to give him an excellent first kiss. And when you thought it was enough for the first time, you broke the kiss, adding some distance between both. Niragi kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds before opening them again. You couldn´t help but smile as you saw Niragi blinking repeatedly, still muddled.

"Was it good?"

"Yeah, I guess. No, I mean, of course", he responded helter-skelter, making you laugh.

"See? You are incredibly sweet"

This time, Niragi laughed too. And your heart beat faster when you saw a special shine in his eyes. At that very moment, you realized how much you loved seeing that boy happy. He was so beautiful. And you wanted to protect his kind soul.

"Can we do it again? I know I can do better"

"I will gladly repeat. As many times as you want"

***

By the time you closed the door of your apartment, Niragi had already left his backpack on the floor and was waiting for you to come closer to him.

"Seems like somebody is a bit eager"

"I´m sorry", he said, losing some of the self-confidence he displayed moments before. "I just…"

"I was just teasing you, Niragi"

You walked towards him and stood on tiptoe to get to his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. He simply placed his hands gently on your waist and followed you to the couch. Niragi plopped down on the sofa and you straddle him. Since your first kiss, you decided to pick up Niragi everyday at the entrance of the library and walked together to your flat instead of staying there. You studied too but also had free time for you. You had started thinking that Niragi was trying to become a total expert in the whole kissing thing.

"Has been a good day at school?"

"Yeah, cool. Better now I´m here"

"I´m talking seriously, Niragi", you insisted, placing your hands on his chest to be able to look at him. "I want to be sure that you are alright"

"I know. And I appreciate it. But everything´s fine, Y/N"

"Well, I´m gonna try to believe you"

You continued kissing each other for a few. Your tongues were tangled and your saliva mixed. Niragi was a quick learner. When you bit his lower lip, he dug his fingers into your hips unconsciously.

"Do you want… more?"

"What do you mean?", he asked you in return, slightly frowned.

"I´m pretty sure you know what I mean. I can feel the bulge in your pants"

His face suddenly flushed and his hands left your body. Niragi even tried to push you into the sofa, embarrassed, but you reminded on top of him.

"I-I´m sorry. I-I didn´t want to make you feel uncomfortable"

"There´s nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, I would be offended if your body didn´t react in this way", you joked, but Niragi was still amazed. "And if you want it, I´m ready to move to the next level"

"I don´t know if I´m… I mean, I don´t know what to do"

"I know you are unexperienced, Niragi, but it´s not a problem for me. I can guide you", you assured to him. "However, you have to be sure that you really want to do it"

"I want to do it, I guess"

"You guess?", you repeated after him. Niragi was so insecure that he could start trembling at any time, so you decided to lend him a helping hand. "We can go ahead and, if you regret it or feel uncomfortable, we can stop whenever you want"

Niragi hesitated for a few seconds before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, good. I like how it sounds", he said in a tone of voice so low that it was difficult to hear.

You started kissing him again slowly to restore his confidence, but this time, it didn´t take you long until you moved your lips to his neck. You felt honoured to hear his low moans as you kissed that sensitive part of his body and guided his hands to your hips again. 

"Can I unbutton your shirt?", you asked him gently.

"Yes, it´s fine"

You did it one by one, and when it was done, you left his neck to take care of his bared chest. It was pretty sad to discover some bruises there too. Niragi tensed up as he noticed your gaze on them.

"There are not recent", he promised you in a hurry. Instead of answering, you took off your own shirt and showed him the scar near your shoulder.

"This is from the last day I saw my father", you explained to his visibly puzzled grimace. "I used to have some bruises too, but they will disappear and, eventually, you will heal. People who hurt you can´t control your life. You have so many wonderful things to live, Niragi. And those assholes can´t destroy you"

Words were not coming out of his mouth. He was completely focused on your scar. And without doubting, he came up to kiss it gently. You gasped and entangled your fingers in his hair, letting him freedom to continue kissing your skin and your neck. He was trying to copy what you have done on him before. God, you wanted to go step by step, but you also needed him so bad.

"Should we go to my bedroom?"

"Yeah, I would like that"

In the living room, Niragi was more secure about it than he was when he saw the bed in front of him. He even gulped nervously, so you take his hand gently and guided him to sit on one side of the bed. You stayed upright caressing his hair.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes"

"Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to rush things"

"No. I´m sure. I want to do this", he nodded. "I want to do it with you, Y/N"

"Okay then"

You took off his shirt and caressed his chest, arms and back. The tingling of your fingertips gave him goosebumps. All these sensations were completely new to him.

Then, you got on your knees and put your hands on his trousers. Before getting rid of them, you gave him a glance waiting to his consent. And Niragi nodded again. Once done, you got back on your feet and guided his fingers to your own pants, encouraging him to do something besides staring at you. And with just your underwear, he lay back as you climbed in top of him.

"Don’t look at me like I scare you"

"You don´t", he assured you. "I´m just nervous. I don’t want to disappoint you"

"Get that idea out of your head because there is no way you can disappoint me. If I see you are enjoying it, I´m going to do it too"

You both kissed for a while as your hands explored each other’s body. Niragi was so shy at first but ended grabbing your breast firmly. His breathing got heavier in the moment you stroked his crotch. You got rid of your underwear and continued moving your hand up and down his length a few times. He already was completely hard and pre-cum was shining in his tip.

"How could you keep this secret away from me?"

"What are you talking about?", he asked to you but got puzzled by your naughty smile.

"I´m talking about what you hid under your pants. You are huge"

And immediately, Niragi was blush again. A pride and subtle smile appeared on his face even so. Maybe it was the first time you saw him being proud of something about himself. After the sex, you might teach him what else he should be proud of besides his dick.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, I´m just telling you the truth", you said. And when you rubbed his tip against your wetness, Niragi moaned. It was time. "Are you ready? For sure?"

"Yes, I am"

"Can you see right without your glasses?"

"Yes, for sure. I forgot about them", he said before taking them off and leaving them on the night table.

"And do you want to switch positions or something?"

"I´m good here", he answered. "And you look so pretty up there"

You smiled tenderly.

"You are the sweetest boy I ever met, Niragi"

You kissed him one more time before burring yourself in his length inch by inch. Niragi opened his mouth widely as he chocked a moan in his throat. Feeling himself completely inside of you was much more than what he could afford; the sensation was more amazing than he could have ever imagined. That´s why you gave him a few seconds to recover.

"Are you alright?"

"I have never been better"

"I´m glad to hear that"

You started moving your hips up and down slowly. His sonorous moans were music to your ears. And as you speeded up the pace, you ended up moaning too. You had wanted this since your first kiss and it was so pleasant it finally happened. His hands clung to your thighs at the same time you descended to taste his lips again. Niragi could barely kiss you back, but he did his best. Nevertheless, after a few minutes, you felt his muscles tightening. You knew what that meant.

"I-I think… I am…", he scarcely could talk.

"I know. And it´s okay. I really want to see you cumming, babe"

You caressed his hair and his chest as you quickened your pace as much as you could. Niragi looked directly into your eyes, the pleasure burning in his gaze and his moans filling the room. God, he was even cuter when he was such a mess.

"I love you, Y/N", he confessed in a gasp. "Damn, I…"

A louder moan prevented him from continuing to speak. As he cum, you stopped the movement of your hips gradually. And shortly afterwards, you moved from the top of Niragi to lay back in the bed next to him. You still caressed his chest with your fingertips, smiling as you observe his desperate attempts to catch his breath.

"Was it good?"

"Was even better. Better than anything", he answered, slowly turning his face to you with an exhausted smile. However, it didn't take long for him to change it to a worried grimace. "I have finished too fast, right?"

"It´s your first time. It´s normal"

"I´m sorry"

"Don’t apologize, dumbass", you refuted. "It has been great. I promise. And practice makes perfect"

You hugged him by the waist and left a warm kiss in his shoulder.

"So… that means we can repeat it some time?", he asked, paused.

"I would like to. But you have had enough for today", you concluded before sitting up in the bed.  Instantly you opened your arms and nodded your head at him, telling him without words to come closer to you. "Sex is amazing but cuddling after sex is stunning too"

Although a bit reluctant, Niragi decided to accept your offer and put his head over your bared chest. His arms slowly moved until he was hugged to your body and, a pair of minutes later, Niragi took a big breath of air and let it out slowly. You continued caressing his hair and his back, hoping he didn´t fall asleep.

"You were right. It feels good too", he mumbled.

"I know, baby"

His hands clutched at your body with need, as if he never wanted to let you go again.

"You are the best thing in my life, Y/N. No one has ever cared about me as much as you do"

"Is that why you said that you loved me before?"

Niragi gulped on account of your words. Probably he was trying to make like if that never happened, but it did.

"I´m sorry"

"Stop apologizing"

"But I have to. It has been out of place. I was feeling so many things a-and I said it out loud, but I´m sorry"

"I´m not annoyed", you assured. "But I need you to understand that I don´t feel the same. At least not yet. Right now, I love you as a friend; falling in love takes time"

"I get it", he said, but you noticed a slightly disillusionment in is his voice.

"However… it´s also true that you are the only person who has captured my interest in a long time. So, it´s possible that it means something"

Niragi didn´t believe that anyone could ever notice him. He thought that everyone despised him; that he deserved all the hate he got; that he was only a piece of trash. And he believed that all was his fault for being born twisted. But you had proved him wrong; you had shown him the love he never had. And Niragi could never wish for more.

"Like you said before… We don´t have to rush things", he murmured tentatively.

"Yeah, I agree"

***

Your day was being a complete disaster. You had a mentoring early at the morning, but it took longer than you expected and you were late for work. As a result, you had left later too and, by the time you arrived to the entrance of the public library, Niragi should have been waiting for you for more than half an hour. As you noticed that he wasn´t waiting for you sitting in the stairs, a group of teenagers a few meters away caught your eye.

"So, you were hiding from us, huh?", one of them laughed.

"I told you he was here, guys", another said.

"You don´t want to spend some quality time with us after classes? We always have so much fun, don´t you think, Niragi?"

It took you a few seconds to realize that one of them had Niragi by the shoulders. He was clearly uncomfortable and these five boys would be his classmates; his bullies. They turned down the street into an alleyway and you didn´t hesitate before following them. They were too busy pushing a terrified Niragi against the wall to notice you until you raised your voice.

"Here you are, guys! It´s so nice to finally have the opportunity to meet you"

Five pairs of eyes were on you at once. They looked confused, but Niragi quickly recognised you.

"Y/N, it´s fine. You should go", he made an effort to keep his voice from trembling.

Or he didn´t want you to see what they were going to do to him, or he was afraid that they might do something to you as well.

"Do you know who she is? It´s your girlfriend or something?", one of them asked him, moody. The only thing that stood out about him was his bright yellow t-shirt.

"Huh? How is this freak going to be dating such a beautiful girl?", another answered, walking towards you with a cocky smile on his face. "Is there any problem, sweetie? I can help you with whatever you need"

"So nice of you to ask", you smiled too. "The truth is that my day has been awful, but I´m so lucky that you are here to make it better"

Before he could say anything, you punched him straight in the nose, making him cry out in pain as the blood began to flow. Suddenly, you kneed him in the crotch and grabbed him by the hair before he could even react.

"I assume that you, dickhead, are the leader of this deplorable gang", you said near his face. "And I am the person you should have never crossed paths with"

"You crazy bitch. I´m gonna…"

You pulled his hair harder, forcing him to shut up.

"What are you gonna do, huh?", you asked, but didn´t obtain any answer. Then you took something out of your pocket and pressed it again that boy´s crotch. His eyes widened, frightened. "Yeah, you are right, it´s a knife. So you should listen to me carefully. If I ever see Niragi again with another bruise, I´m gonna cut your disgusting little dick before you could use it at least once in your entire pathetic life"

You saw the fear reflected in his face. He was terrified. You even thought that he could pee his pants any moment.

"Have you understood what I said?"

"Yes"

"Louder! Have you understood?!"

"Yes! Yes! I promise! I won´t do it again!"

You let him go with a shove moments later. And when you put your sight in the other four kids, they seemed to be petrified.

"The threat goes to all of you", you warned them. "Does anyone have anything else to say?"

Three of them bowed their heads submissively, but the one in the yellow shirt was reluctant yet.

"There are four of us and he is just a girl. We can handle her", he told to his friends, seeking their support.

"Planning to assault a girl in group. So brave, sweetie", you answered, smiling tenderly. "Anyways, I´m going to be nice and warn you that, before entering in this alleyway, I have called the police. I told them that five guys were following me down the street and I was so freaking scared. I suppose that, if they catch you, they won´t be as kind as I am being with you"

"You have kicked one of us! And threatened us!", he shouted. "I am the one who is going to report you to the police"

"It´s your word against mine; an innocent pretty little lady vs five good-for-nothing jerks. Are you sure that they are going to believe you?"

"I can´t go to jail. I´m too young", one of them complained.

"Me too. We should run"

"Maybe we can hide before police came here"

"Finally one of you says something coherent", you commented.

Moments later, without even bothering to say goodbye, they started running out of the alleyway, helping his injured leader to run as fast as them.

"Nice to meet you, guys! You were right, it has been a lot of fun with you all!", you shouted, hoping they could still hear you.

Only when you saw them turning the street, you paid attention to the person who had been in the background all this time. You were alone with Niragi, who was looking at you like if he didn´t know you. He seemed unable to process what had just happened.

"Have I gone too far with them?"

"What the… What have you done?", he finally asked, bewildered.

"I´m sorry. Maybe I should have asked you before doing anything by my own"

"You have threatened them with cutting his…", Niragi couldn't even finish the sentence. "Why do you have a knife?"

"It´s not a knife. It´s a comb. A pocket´s comb", you said, opening and showing it to Niragi. "But that moron was too scared to look at it. And I have sound pretty convincing"

And just like that, after a few seconds of absolute silence, Niragi did something you didn´t expected: he laughed. He laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall. You let him let it all out until, just a few minutes later, he managed to calm himself down.  You've never seen him laughing like this before. And the truth is, it was a bit strange.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Are you kidding me? It has been incredible! I´m feeling more than well", he assured you. "But, what about the police?"

"It was a lie too," you answered. "I knew they would be such cowards"

You went to your house like you supposed to do before the incident happened. Sitting on the sofa with a soda everything seemed better, but Niragi still had too many questions in his mind. He was amazed.

"They were terrified", he smiled, but his gaze soon fell upon you. "I didn´t knew you could be so… I don´t know. I couldn´t imagine you like that"

"Now you know. I guess that´s what happens when life isn´t fair with you. You learn some tricks", you mumbled. "If nobody is there for you, you must become your own saviour. And when you have so much hate inside, your soul gets dark and rotten. That’s why I wanted to protect you before yours was too broken"

"But I don´t want you to protect me, Y/N. I want to be like you. I don´t want anyone to be able to hurt me again"

Niragi was freaking out; seemed astounded. You have never seen him like that, so full of life. You could see it in his eyes; maybe you were too late to save his kind soul. Maybe it wasn´t so kind since the beginning.

"You have enjoyed it. You didn´t just want them to stop; you wanted to fight back, to make them suffer"

Niragi bowed his head as if he were ashamed of his own thoughts. Or maybe he wasn´t ashamed of his mind at all, he only didn´t want anyone to discover all the dark things that were on it.

"There's no reason for you to lie to me. I had tried to prevent you from seeing that part of me because I didn´t want to lose you. I know I´m not a good person, Niragi, but I have no regrets about the way I am", you confessed. "And back there, in the alleyway, when your classmates left and you were looking at me, I have noticed the bulge in your pants. The situation has turned you on"

Niragi flushed and his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists in his lap.

"I can´t say out loud what´s on my mind. I´m twisted. A disgusting freak"

"Society may reject people like us. People who are so fucked up inside that only want to see the world burn. But you can be genuine with me. No matter what you say or what you do, I will never run away from you. Your dark side doesn´t scare me, Suguru"

Niragi´s eyes were wet. He always had thought that he will always be alone, but he saw a part of himself reflected on you. For the first time in his lifetime, he had been lucky to have your paths cross. And without hesitation, Niragi hugged you vehemently and you hugged him back trying to comfort him.

"Don´t ever leave me, Y/N. Please, don´t go"

"I won´t. I promise"

You felt his tears in your cheek and you held him tighter, but you allowed him to let it all out by crying. Sometimes people just needed to have someone by their side; someone to love them no matter what, despite their shortcomings. And from now on, you were going to be there for Niragi just as he was going to be there for you. Neither of you would ever be alone again.

[redbirdandbluebird23]

The Kids from Yesterday - Alternative Beginning

Masterlist

A/N: As I said in the poll, this is only 356 words of basic set up, there is more explanation about where this story would have gone under the break. I don't currently have plans to flesh this out into a full story, but I could be convinced to if people like this bit!

Jason was struggling to remember exactly how he’d ended up standing at the white, slightly peeling apartment door in front of him. The last thing he remembered clearly was picking up the phone to find Tim crying on the other end of the line. 

“Jay, it’s Dick. They-they didn’t make it time. Fuck, Jay, Dick’s dead.”

Tim started sobbing in earnest then, but Jason had just hung up. He still didn’t know if Tim had just called him as a courtesy (none of the other bats had even tried to reach out), or if he knew more about what was really going on between him and Dick than he let on. But either way, Tim’s words completely pulled the rug from under Jason’s feet. He had been so sure, even when they unmasked Nightwing, that it was all going to work out. After all, it was Dick, he always found a way out. Not necessarily always in one piece, but he always made it out. 

But apparently this time he hadn’t.

Jason’s heart barely had time to break before he grabbed his ready packed to go bag, shoved several of Dick’s hoodies and shirts inside, packed a few other little keepsakes he couldn’t bear to part with, and then took off running. 

Now he found himself staring at the peeling white paint on the apartment door trying to work up the courage to knock and ask for help. He took a deep breath and finally reached up and knocked. He fiddled with the strap of his bag as he listened to muffled mumbling get closer to the door before it was pulled open to reveal a dishevelled Roy.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Roy asked, exhaustion seeping into his tone, and Jason almost felt bad for waking him up. 

Jason stayed quiet, knowing the moment he tried to talk would be the moment the facade he put up in Gotham would crack and everything would come spilling out all at once. 

Roy seemed to see that anyway. “Oh, Jase. Come on.”  He stepped to the side and Jason walked into the apartment.

So yeah, the main change would have been the story taking place in the Spyral arc and all the angst that comes with that, including shit dad Bruce rather than protective mama bear Bruce. But the main plot points would have been:

Jason finds out he's pregnant during the time Dick is away fighting the crime syndicate and doesn't have a chance to tell him before he's captured, unmasked and strapped to the murder machine

Jason runs to Roy because he knows Roy will know what to do and guide him through everything

Which Roy does, and Jason moves in with Roy full time during the pregnancy, but keeps it from the rest of the family because he doesn't trust them

Tim, being Tim, eventually tracks Jason down and Jason lets him have limited access to his pup on the condition that Tim never tells anyone else

Tim is okay with this because he wants a relationship with both his remaining big brother and his niece/nephew

Something, something, something

Dick comes back from Spyral to half his family hating him, Bruce's indifference and Jason missing

He absolutely loses it trying to figure out where Jason is, but with Tim quite literally working against him, he doesn't have any luck

Tim lets Jason know Dick's not actually dead, but he's just as mad as Jason and agrees not to tell Dick anything about where Jason is

Jason's still living with Roy and they're basically best friends/roommates raising a pup together, so Jason doesn't think he needs Dick even without Dick's 'betrayal'

Something, something, something

Dick somehow finds out where Jason is and decides to just drop in unannounced

Only he comes face to face with a year old pup with Jason's curls, but Dick's mom's eyes

Jason grabs his pup and locks himself away in their room as Roy deals with Dick

Dick's honestly too shocked at the revelation that he's a dad now that it doesn't take much for Roy to throw him out

Dick's absolutely reeling from the revelation and hating himself even more for leaving, while Jason's losing it because he thinks that now Dick knows, Bruce will find out and they'll take his pup away from him

Roy immediately moves them to another city and gets Ollie and Dinah on board to help against Bruce if it comes to that

Something, something, something

Tim eventually finds the video of Bruce essentially beating Dick into submission to get him to agree to go to Spyral, as well as the recordings from Dick basically begging to come home

He sends them all straight to Jason because why wouldn't he

This brings another layer of problems for Jason, because on one hand, Dick clearly didn't choose to leave, but on the other, he stayed gone when he could have left before joining Spyral and he didn't try and tell anyone what Bruce did

Jason can't see himself ever getting back together with Dick, or letting him around their pup with the possibility of Dick defending or folding to Bruce's orders

Dick's finally beginning to realise this himself; that his codependent relationship with Bruce is toxic and it's going to kill one of them

So Dick leaves Gotham, and Bruce, behind for good

I didn't have the ending completely planned out, but you can imagine that they eventually make up and Dick proves that he's reliable enough to Jason to let him back into his and the pups lives. I've said it before, but I don't think I'll ever be capable of giving these two boys anything but a happy ending.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

S5 predictions

-At the final episode, the party goes back to the local village with three waterfalls and mileven marry while Will watches sadly (if he’s even alive, perhaps he died fighting Vecna)

-Max comes back to life, but she comes back wrong. Her limbs have been replaced by robot parts by doctors and she’s now a cyborg

-Lucas jokes about her being C-3PO from Star Wars. Max shoots him with her laser arm and he dies

-Dustin starts wearing lipstick and it’s just never acknowledged. It’s red. Very red. Too red.

-Turns out Henry is possessed with an evil spirit sent by the Christian devil because his parents never loved him, and during the final fight El looks at him in the eye and says “hey🥺 this isn’t you🥺” and they hug and he becomes Henry again and he’s the best man at the mileven wedding

-Steve gets his ass beat, again

-Robin falls head over heels for Jonathan, who cheats on Nancy with her. Nancy is so mad than she grabs one of her guns and shoots them both

-Eddie comes back to life but he only speaks French now

-Will develops a crush on Steve and they are endgame

-Robin begins growing pumpkins

-Also Joyce and Robin kiss

-When hopper finds out he’s so mad he handcuffs Robin and refuses to leave her hands free, so she spends half a season completely free and in liberty but handcuffed

-Lucas’ ghost comes back to haunt the party after max killed him but not in a scary way. Neither a sad way. He’s just an inconvenience. He moves papers and cups to other places, he opens the door while Dustin is showering, he tugs at mike’s hair. He doesn’t do anything to Will tho and this pisses everyone off cause that’s just not fair.

-El is actually Henry’s daughter, el’s mom and him hooked up while he was in the lab.

-El grows her hair out and dyes it pink

-Mike grows a mustache

-Will hits the gym and gets jacked

-Max steals Robin’s pumpkins at night to leave them in mike’s room. Mike is so confused each morning, there’s always a new pumpkin.

-El and Steve share an emotional moment with an almost kiss but they are interrupted by Will

-Suzie is Russian and has been on it all along

-Argyle appears during the first episode and he’s driving the van. He’s supposed to drive Jonathan and will somewhere but before he arrives at their house a truck hits him and he goes flying and dies

-Will, despite being endgame with Steve, objects at the mileven wedding, and Nancy just shots him and they continue the wedding like nothing happened

-Robin and Steve get a new job at the arcade. They are eventually fired because they spend their shifts playing, and they are so bad but they keep playing anyway, and eventually they lose all their money and end up with 20k dollars in debt. A s5 subplot is them trying to break into the arcade at night and steal their money back from inside the machines. They fail

-Mr Clarke appears and has an affair with hopper

-Holly gets taken to the upside down cause she doesn’t know how to ride a bike yet, so she just goes walking through the forest and Vecna sees her and just snatches her.

-Surprise surprise, Karen knows how to use a gun and she’s the one to kill the evil spirit possessing Henry by shooting it

-Billy appears and Steve and him have some very homoerotic wrestling before El kills him just because. He was alive for 15 minutes. Also during all this he was a zombie

-Max’s mom actually works for the lab and was brenner’s ex

-The last scene of the whole show is Ted wheeler waking up on his armchair, having dreamt all the story

[laswells-ashtray]

I have returned from the depths of the void that's called depression! :D

Anyways, hello again. Ever since I've been reading your posts of different rambles and all that about different cod characters Mac has somehow wormed his way into my heart. (Curse the Scottish characters somehow always worming their way into my heart)

Something that I thought of while trying to catch myself up on some things I've missed was what if Mac was the one who got hurt on a mission instead of Price? Either by the usual occurrences or even trying to protect Price on a mission. Or even possibly being left behind on purpose by another captain that was willing to do anything necessary to get John on his team, even if it meant leaving a fellow captain behind on a mission to the enemies.

(Also I'm slowly starting to try and get over my fear of asking not anonymously, which I think is a good thing for me. Makes me happy about it. :D)

Always try to keep your depression with a sword and eat some yoghurt. It's the only way. Anyway, hello anon. I am proud of the people telling me that I've made them a MacMillan fan because I know fuck all about that man and I just write him based on the people around me and their Scottish-isms.

John wants to scream. He wants to scream and break everything in sight, storming through the lifeless halls like a twister. His fury sporadic and terminal.

He doesn't, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth and holds it until he hears another beep, breathing out.

Captain MacMillan is a highly sought-after man, proficient and minacious. He's virtue. Righteousness in the shape of man. A blinding beacon of integrity, the type of good that stings to lock gazes with because it isn't achievable in any other form.

Now, he looks half-dead and human. Painfully human. The dread drapes itself over John's shoulders like a weighted blanket. The room feels glacial, goosebumps racing up John's arms as his eyes linger on the blanched face of his captain.

The room is dizzying with timelessness and eternity. It feels ungodly. Like those interminable moments in a confessional as you await the man who cradles your absolution. There is no salvation here, only silence and wasted breath.

Every part of him aches, the lingering prickling sensation under his skin is torturous. He has no injuries, only reluctant hope to get him by.

Mac doesn't fit on the bed, his shoulders are too broad as is his waist, and his legs are too long. The bed is fit for John, the man who belongs in it. It was his originally but he'd never known a Scot who wouldn't dive in front of a bullet like the scar would be a badge of honour.

The bullet should've pierced his flesh, blood should've wept from his wound and he should be the one with a machine monitoring his heart rate. Not Mac, never Mac.

He should've been pacing around John's hospital room, a string of thinly veiled Scottish threats as he glowered at John's unconscious figure. The sergeant should've woken up to his captain ranting and raving at him, skelping his lug before pulling him into a bear hug and letting John slump against him as he radiated heat and comfort.

Instead, he stares at the body of one Captain MacMillan and no one stares back. No dark blue eyes, like glaciers crashing down into the ferocious, thrashing waves below to offer him consolation in such a dull, pallid room.

Truly, he's alone. The entire building reeks of chemicals, antiseptic doused over every molecule in the foundations. It's sterile. There's no scent of Mac's Vaseline men's deodorant that smells as ridiculously cheap as it looks. He's never smelt a deodorant that dries out your lungs quite as effectively as that one, he longs for that smell so much that it throbs in his chest. There's no faint smell of cigarettes because Mac had decided his life's mission was a lung cancer diagnosis, John can't remember the last time he smoked. He'd had to leave the room to do so.

He wants the other man to wake up, wants to scream himself hoarse and shake him until he gets the message. His life is not with more than John's.

He sighs, uncrossing his legs and lifting his elbows from the arms of the chair to cross them over his chest as he slumps back in the unbelievably firm, craped seat by MacMillan's bedside. He tries to blink away the stinging in his eyes as they watch the rising and falling of the Scotsman's chest.

If he tries to listen past the beeping, he can almost hear it.

"Am awright, son."

[dead-enby-detective]

I love the Dead Boy Detectives show so I decided to watch the Doom Patrol episode: Dead Patrol which includes their version of the DBD Agency because I was curious about the different portrayals.

(This is a long post, I’m sorry, I have a lot of thoughts 💭)

First- gotta say, it’s wild that Ruth Connell plays both versions of the Night Nurse (when I heard her voice in the Doom Patrol episode I was like !!!) when they are SO gosh darn different.

In DBD she still feels like a person. We, as the audience, know she’s in the wrong about the boys but we can also see her point of view. If the show continues I’m excited to see where they take her character.

In Doom Patrol… she’s just creepy AF! I mean she’s a horror movie monster whose face splits apart and turns people into zombies by throwing up on them like WTH? I’m good with not seeing her again, no matter how well Ruth plays her lol.

Anyways props to Ruth fr because dang, she’s got RANGE.

Speaking of the Night Nurse-

It’s interesting to see the different reactions the boys have in the Doom Patrol episode to her compared to in the show.

Firstly, in Doom Patrol they already know her versus in DBD we see them meet her for the first time.

In Doom Patrol they’re kind of chill about it, like this is an enemy they have to deal with now and again, nbd versus in DBD it’s a new threat they don’t know how to handle. It feels like there’s far more weight in DBD to their interaction, in my opinion.

But I think the understanding versus uncertainty of her also impacts their overall reactions to the threat of her.

Both Charles’ react to one) protect Edwin and two) get the Night Nurse to get the heck away from them.

While trying to get the Night Nurse away DP Charles hits her with a bat and DBD Charles with the lullaby machine and then DP Charles throws a grenade and DBD Charles kicks her into a giant fish’s mouth.

Now obviously: different actors, writers, universe, 8 episodes versus 1 but it’s interesting to note that the Doom Patrol boys are much less reactive to their own/each other’s violence.

DP Edwin doesn’t react much to DP Charles hitting the Night Nurse and then throwing an explosive at her, DBD Edwin however is devastated by DBD Charles’s intense reaction to the Night Nurse trying to take them away/separate them:

DP Edwin doesn’t really say anything about it just kind of tells her off and DBD Edwin tells Charles his reaction was extreme.

Then in the aftermath DP Charles just walks (runs) away from the situation, seemingly fine with the whole thing while DBD Charles breaks down after the whole affair

Like DBD Charles is wreck by the whole thing.

Again I’m fully aware that having eight episodes dedicated to these characters stories compared to about half of one dedicated to them allows for very different stories but I think it’s neat how different their reactions to violence, their violence are.

Throughout the DBD show the phrase “a good detective does what they must to solve the case” but really, they have instances where they could have used violence to solve or speed up their case work and they actively chose not to, because they truly don’t want to. Charles does, even before this, have moments of violence but it’s clear it’s something that hurts him and it’s not usually his first reaction. They tend to try to avoid being violent if they can.

Compared to the DP dead boys, it feels almost like a means to an end for them. It doesn’t feel like they of out of their way to be violent but also like they’re less likely to avoid it overall. And it doesn’t impact them the same way.

I just think it’s neat how vastly different two portrayals of the same characters can be especially with such core traits.

They’re the same characters, different fonts and it’s so fun to compare and contrast.

—————

I have more thoughts but this post is getting pretty long so I think I’ll make another post/posts about em later.