#brain: time for longing first love & secret teenager crush bullshit

[espectres]

' if you disappear ... ' a pause. hesitant. ' if things get really bad, can i ... come find you? ' the phantom thief and the vanishing, invisible boy. dark and his lucifer pride had long crowed in an exhilarated confidence: anything can be stolen, everything can be stolen away. if it came down to it, we'd steal even a vortex of light. but it's daisuke that simply stands before shou, hoping to dedicate himself despite his usual bashfulness, a reluctance to perhaps somehow overly-impose. ' i don't mind if you come and go. but if you're ever gone for longer than usual, shou-kun, then --- as a friend, i'm going to worry. so ... please. ' his gaze sets downwards just a little. ' we won't even have to talk, not unless you want to. i just don't want you to feel like you have to bear all sorts of things by yourself. even if you don't accept it, shou-kun ... i always want to be here for you. okay? '

IT SINKS TO THE PIT OF HIS CORE, but it doesn't die, something stings lively and Shou is certain that it's guilt and it has always been there. It bleeds when his mother hugs him a little too tight after long weeks with no contact, it flares like a wound when Fukuda looks at Shou's own injuries as though they were caused by Shou himself on someone innocent, like a crime worthy of punishment. It tugs now, however, like a thick rope knotted around his heart, too tight it burns with every slight movement, warping the heart that beats a little too loud, with every smile so bright it's angelic, with all the worry in these dawn-kissed eyes.

Being seen has always been difficult, but it has also been relieving in such confusing ways.

❝ No. ❞ He doesn't stammer, he doesn't hesitate, there is nothing not perfectly level about him, nothing except for all the longing, except for all the care that he feels, it makes his heart so close to bursting. But it hides so well, it always does, in the large shadow of self-imposed responsibility, and the heavy brickwall of indifference- selfishness, in the way he completely sure that his words must hurt, in the way he's is so ready to harm if it means he gets his way with things. ❝ I won't let you do that. ❞ I can't. 

❝ Look- ❞ He starts carefully, inching closer, features tightening as blue eyes grief the lack of contact, it's crazy how much he's missed it. And it's crazy how much he's missed Daisuke, he realizes maybe that's why the guilt behind his absence felt a little too much, maybe that's why he is so relieved, knowing that someone so beautiful inside and outside has been thinking about him, even if it's not the same way, even if he doesn't even deserve it, and he certainly doesn't. ❝ Daisuke, I trust you, I really do. ❞ More than anyone, more than anything.

And he tries to explain himself, even though he's never felt the need to do such a thing before, driven by his desire of freedom and his lack of remorse, but none of that could even matter here, and it's so new and strange and he's left to be flimsily defensive against the other's bare heart. ❝ It wouldn't be fair to just lump you into my shit, and it's not that bad anyway, it's just the way things are, you don't have to worry about it. ❞ Not as bad as it has been, but Shou doesn't need Daisuke to know that, and Daisuke needs to stay safe, because Shou wouldn't know what to do if anything were to happen to him, and the rawness of his emotions almost scares him. 

❝ You're just gonna have to trust me. ❞ He smiles with ease, willing to reassure the other despite the fear and confusion and secrets, despite the selfishness of it all and the threatening pounding of his heart as he raises a hand, lifts Daisuke's chin with an encouraging nudge to look him straight in the eye, to allow the thief to see through him and find nothing but affection gleaming without a hint of bashfulness. ❝ You're already more than enough. ❞

[kyuuppi]

Aoba Johsai, Nekoma, and Karasuno reaction to walking in on y/n in the shower. If you can't do all of them, then the main players on the teams

“Walking in on you showering”

Ft. Kageyama; Hinata; Kuroo; Kozume; Oikawa; Iwaizumi

A/N: For “main players” I picked who I assume are the two most important/talked about in the series. Thank you so much for your request, I hope you have a good day. 💛

General Scenario:

You invite your friend (and slight crush) over to study for an upcoming test after school. You decide to take a shower before the meeting but he arrives earlier than expected and lets himself in since you had texted before that the door would be unlocked. Realizing he may have a few extra minutes, he heads to your bathroom, oblivious of the fact it is already occupied...

KARASUNO

↳ Kageyama

➣  This boy’s brain is 90% volleyball, 10% milk—there’s like no chance he’s seen a naked body outside of the locker rooms. 

➣  The moment he opens the door he notices the telltale sounds of running water and knows he has messed up. 

➣  Logically, he should probably leave, allow you what minuscule scraps of privacy you may have left--but the logical side of his brain is not working right now. 

➣  Kageyama can only gape, body completely frozen as he watches your own paused figure just beyond the thin blue curtain. 

➣  Despite the plastic barrier, he is sure he can see everything. Every curve, every dip, all of it seems to be on display before his very eyes. 

➣  You have to literally scream at him to “get out!” for him to realize he should definitely be moving.

➣  He stutters out several words of gibberish in attempt to say “sorry” before slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the walls and resigning himself to sitting on your bedroom floor.

➣  He tries to forcefully eject the memory and all the inappropriate thoughts it brings from his mind by reciting volleyball plays--it does not work.

➣  When you later join him to study, Kageyama refuses to meet your eyes and is visibly distracted during the whole session. 

➣  “Do you know how to answer the first one?”

➣  “Forty-two.” 

➣  “...Tobio, this is history.”

➣  “...oh.”

↳ Hinata

➣  Oh innocent, sweet sunshine child. 

➣  You are about to become the subject of his wet dreams for the rest of the semester.

➣  Hinata was absolutely not thinking when he swings the door open, rushing in with eagerness to simply relieve his bladder. 

➣  He realizes his fatal error when he nearly slips on the condensation sticking to the floor tiles and catches himself on the equally slippery bathroom counter. 

➣  His mind quickly connects the dots, finally noticing the sounds of running water and startling when you release a shrill scream. 

➣  Hinata probably breaks a few world records with how fast he screeches out a thousand decibel “SORRY” and darts out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open in his haste to get the hell out of there. 

➣  When you finish your shower and come downstairs, fully dressed, you find an unusually quiet Hinata, ears stained crimson and posture stiff as he pretends to be hyper-focused on the contents of his (upside down) English workbook. 

➣  Hinata hardly processes anything from your study session and nearly jumps out of his skin every time you speak to him after any amount of silence. 

➣  “Shou, what is the answer to number—”

➣  “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING, I SWEAR!!” 

➣  “...”

NEKOMA

↳ Kuroo

➣  Kuroo is a teenage boy, of course he’ll get flustered—but he’s also Kuroo which means of course he’ll end up teasing you about it. 

➣  The moment he opens the door, startling you with the sudden light and gust of cool air that comes with his entrance, he recognizes the situation and apologizes, quickly closing the door back before you can even react.

➣  After you get dressed you dread the moment you have to step out and face him, already expecting the avoided eye contact and awkward behavior standard between a previously naked person and the person who accidentally saw them naked.

➣  More than feeling embarrassed about yourself, you fear your friendship with Kuroo will never be the same.

➣  In a way, you’re right. 

➣  The moment you enter the bedroom, Kuroo looks up at you with the most teasing smirk in history. 

➣  The rest of the night Kuroo can literally not go 20 minutes without making a joke about the situation. You soldier through it, reasoning this is better than awkward silence. 

➣  But it doesn’t end there. Even at school the next day, Kuroo makes subtle little jokes. 

➣  Everyone else who overhears is totally lost because, despite how much he loves to rile you up, Kuroo isn’t malicious and wouldn’t go around telling other people about it. Besides, inside jokes are way more fun, he thinks.

➣  “Oh, it’s Y/n-chan. I almost didn’t recognize you—you look really different with clothes on.”

➣  “Kuroo, I swear to god—” 

➣  You created a monster tbh. 

➣  (However, if you seriously tell him you don’t like it, he will 100% stop and apologize.)

↳ Kozume

➣  If the two of you are not already extremely close by the time this happens, you may never hear from Kenma again, sorry. 

➣  He does not handle embarrassing situations well at all. 

➣  Eyes glued to the phone in his hand, Kenma doesn’t even notice he’s intruded until he hears your startled squeak.

➣  His head darts up and his brain quickly pieces together the situation.

➣  With flaming cheeks, Kenma wordlessly shuts the door back.

➣  He stands with his back to the closed door, staring wide eyed into the distance for several seconds before realizing he would rather take the L on tomorrow’s quiz than have to sit down for a three hour long study session after this.

➣   He probably sends a short excuse text after he leaves like: 

➣   “srry something came up” 

➣  But you both know that is bullshit.

➣  Kenma won’t talk to you for several days after and when you do finally get the chance to talk to him, he avoids eye contact even more than usual and only answers questions with a quiet “yeah” or “no.” 

➣  It takes a long time for Kenma to get over the situation but, eventually, he does. 

➣  However, if you ever bring it up, you can practically see Kenma willing the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣  Despite his reputation of being a Casanova, Oikawa’s life is too preoccupied with volleyball to have much experience.

➣  So, when he mindlessly swings open the bathroom and finds the unmistakable shape of your naked body behind the clear curtain not even a meter in front of his face, Oikawa’s brain short circuits. 

➣  You have barely even processed that someone has entered the bathroom when Oikawa starts stumbling over his words. 

➣  He is absolutely flustered and his voice cracks several times as he stutters out his apology before he slams the door shut a little too hard and hightails it out of your house, studying completely forgotten. 

➣  For the rest of the day he avoids any contact with you as he processes the event over and over again. 

➣ However, by the next school day he seems back to the confident persona most people expect from him.

➣  In fact, rather than looking embarrassed, Oikawa seems rather teasing when he sends you secretive smirks from across the court while you watch him practice. 

➣  If you come over to talk  when he’s feeling particularly confident, he might even try to flirt with you. 

➣  “Y’know, Y/n-chan, we didn’t get to properly study last time...maybe you should come over to my place instead this weekend?” 

➣  Once again, the two of you aren’t going to get any studying done ;)

↳ Iwaizumi

➣  Tries to play it cool and be a gentleman.

➣  Keyword: tries.

➣  The moment Iwaizumi enters the restroom, every muscle in his body freezes.

➣  His senses are assaulted with the familiar sound of running water, humid air, and the sight of your blurry figure behind the shower curtain. 

➣  His reflexes are quick and he is quietly slipping out and shutting the door closed before you can even notice someone had entered.

➣  Iwaizumi spends the rest of your shower sitting obediently at your desk, waiting for you, with his whole face flaming while he uselessly tried to distract himself the small font in his textbook instead of the vivid imagery of what your body might look like without the curtain in the way. 

➣  When you finally exit the bathroom, fully dressed and surprised to see Iwaizumi already there you apologize for making him wait before asking why his face looks so red. 

➣  “I, uh, it was hot outside.”

➣  “But it’s winter???”

➣  “Let’s just hurry up and start studying, okay!?”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem

[anothertimdrakestan]

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately. 

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you. 

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly. 

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship. 

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes. 

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry. 

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered. 

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die. 

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth. 

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day. 

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it? 

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal. 

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N. 

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time. 

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape. 

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit. 

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago. 

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest. 

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. 

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there. 

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest. 

[hellstenglow]

Hogwarts AU

Anyway, here where I (me and my personal opinion) will sort the Hargreeves in the classical Hogwarts houses. Shippy headcanons (mention of fiveya and alluther, if you don’t like, don’t click) and scenarios included, because my brain can’t help it. I also think I want to write this into a fanfiction, but I have not the time and I am not confident enough in my skill at the moment? Yeah, I just vomit a lot of words. 

Five – Ravenclaw. People would put him in Slytherin because he can be ruthless, but I see his clever brain being his prominent feature. He loves knowledge, he just focuses on what he loves the most of course (math, physics in real world). He is also cocky and smug about his own abilities and intelligence, which is a side-effect on a lot of Ravenclaw. They think they know better. He thinks the same. I can see him excelling in Arithmancy since it’s the Math of Magic.

Ben – Ravenclaw. He likes books and he is pretty rational most of the time. He has a gift with words and with them he reaches people’s heart. He doesn’t notice a lot of people have a crush on him, because he is good looking, a funny sensitive guy and when he starts talking about the beauty of latest discovery on Runology people are influenced by his passion. Yes, he is definitely good in Ancient Runes.

I like the idea of my favourite boys being in the same house. I am sure Five would insult Ravenclaw’s eagle knocker every time he can’t get inside their dormitory, because the eagle goes all philosophic and Five has no time for that. Ben always gets the answers right.

Ben: “It’s about the perception of the question, not the accuracy of the answer per se.” after Five flipped at the guardian of their house once again that week.

Five *snikers*: “Bullshit, Ben. The Eagle just hates my guts since the first year I called him an obnoxious opinionated rusty emblazonment.”

Ben: “I am sure Rowena Ravenclaw would have loved to listen you insulting her enchanted knocker! But may I remind you, you cannot threaten to melt him in an ashtray every day and demand him to like you.

Klaus – Hufflepuff. He is so random and full of chaotic energy, Hufflepuff can be that. He is also very empathic and has a very acute emotional intelligence. He is better at school subjects than what people gave him credit. Since in the wizarding world ghosts are more common than the muggle world, he learned to not be afraid of them. They do not have superpowers in such AU, they’re already magical so seeing ghosts isn’t something special. I imagine him having a sort of sixth sense though, not powerful enough to be a Seer but good enough to have amazing intuitions. He had tons of fun in the Divination class, because he can talk for hours about random sh*t (remember the frog and the scorpion) and it sounds like a prophetic genius. 

Vanya – Hufflepuff. People always look down on this house because they are “the rest” and their good features are loyalty and just. What’s wrong with being loyal and just? Helga Hufflepuff thought everyone with magic deserve an education when she decided she would take everyone else the other four didn’t want. That’s an educator, great Helga! This house encourages the students to be proud of who they are. Vanya being in a house that welcome people and treat the students equally is a fitting choice for me, she would love the warming dormitory too. Vanya is loyal to the people she loves and at the core she is a good person. Extra points for the fact you must get the right musical rhythm to open the secret entrance. She nailed it. She joined the Hogwarts Orchestra in the Third Year and have a wicked talent for Charms. (I am biased because I am an Hufflepuff, but my house is good!).

I imagine Ben and Klaus’ friendship being the reason why Five and Vanya’s orbits collided at the beginning. One day Klaus drags Vanya with him in one of the study rooms to join a study group for the next Transfiguration test “Benny is funny and adorable, but he is also bringing this other super nerd Ravenclaw who is kinda of a jerk. I CANNOT deal with studying Transfiguration and two brain-suckers at once. You are my emotional support.”

Vanya accepts because she had to prepare for the same test anyway and she already knows Ben, she likes him. So, they met, everything is fine except for the fact Five is being his snarky self. Then I imagine Vanya saying something very witty at him to shut him up and suddenly Five feels a sort of sparkle inside (brain Five: Oh. Wait.). 

He doesn’t expect such a counterattack from this seemingly timid shy Hufflepuff girl. By the way he has noticed her since the third year, when she casted an actual Patronus charm during a lesson in DADA (Yes, Vanya is a powerful witch). Five was VERY impressed that day (probably turned on, but he is a teenager that’s normal. Hormones suck). However his brain didn’t catch up the hints from his heart until that moment in the study hall. 

Allison – Slytherin. I could put her in Gryffindor, but I like the idea that she subverts the typical image of a Slytherin. She is cunny, clever and ambitious like any Slytherin can be, she also doesn’t mind being at the center of the attention. However, she is also caring, kind and a social butterfly among her peers. She befriends Vanya because she genuinely likes her, who care if she is of another house. She certainly doesn’t care if his boyfriend Luther is a Gryffindor, the “enemy” of their house. No Slytherin bullies can ever have the best on her, she hex them before they can blink. Excellent in Cure of the Magical Creatures and Transfiguration.

Luther – Gryffindor. He wants to do the right thing and showing it. Big body, bigger heart. Quidditch player in the house team, probably a chaser. He is doing it just because Diego asked, he is more into Astronomy and Herbology (he was very caring with his little plant on the base on the Moon, I like the idea he is good with plants in general) than sports. I mean, if not Gryffindor where else?

Diego – Gryffindor. In this reality he doesn’t have such a bad hero complext, but he has a strong sense of justice and he wants validation through his good actions. He does them because he is a brave of course, but also because he’s a little show-off like any Gryffindor on monday morning. Captain of the Quidditch team, a chaser and he loves to participate at the duel club (a proper duel club, not the fake one created by Lockhart years before). He is good on Defence against the Dark Arts. He wants to be an Auror.

Klaus convinces Diego to join the “How long it will take for Five and Vanya to finally confess their feelings and snog in one of the broom closets?” bet he made with Ben. Allison and Luther try to help them by organizing a double date at Hogsmeade, one of the weekends when the students are allowed to visit the village. Five almost chokes his own twin brother (YES, Luther and Five are twin brothers canon in this AU. Like in the comics. It’s my guilty pleasure okay) for tricking him, altough the plan worked at the end of the day. Ben wins the bet. 

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Zombie Jenga || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Days after finding Lydia in the basement, Morgan continues to struggle to find her footing. A bad day takes a turn for the worse.

CONTAINS: parental death, head trauma, depression, brief mentions of past abuse, car accident, mentions of needles

Days after finding Lydia in the basement, Morgan struggled to find herself. Making tea and bringing it back to share with Deirdre was the one task she allotted herself as a challenge, as a hope for a good day. Smiling with anything but affectionate, needy sadness was out of the question. Going outside, unthinkable. But maybe she could give something, like tea, and the space between herself and Deirdre would ease and she would remember what being herself felt like. Then a Prius sped past the window, then a stop sign, and crunched into a soccer mom van, sending it skidding off course until it jumped the curb and the bushes planted on the road verge until it slammed into a young birch tree, which snapped and fell on the roof. The alarms whined, children screamed, and women swore. Morgan watched the disaster from the kitchen window, still holding the tea kettle, which spilled by accident at the moment of crunching metal and glass broke through the quiet neighborhood, then thrown on the floor in frustration. There was a special sound cars made when they came apart. It wasn’t as heavy as the movies made you think, but it did carry, and between her death on the pavement in a pileup at rush hour and her father’s after they steered the family Honda into a palm tree, she remembered.

Morgan had been too busy singing “Maybe This Time” from the Cabaret revival to notice her dad’s hand fall from the wheel. It wasn’t until she started talking to him about the work drama she was going into and he didn’t answer that she looked. She asked him if he was okay, and he said nothing, just continued on the road. Morgan remembered wondering if she’d made him angry, but her dad was never angry. He never shut down or went cold. When they disagreed, they argued, and Morgan felt safe enough to be reckless about it. So when she pulled on his arm, limp on the console, she knew it wasn’t him. She screamed for him to stop the car for about two more miles, not wanting to understand the meaning of his sagging face or how he could only sputter incoherently at her despite the wide, panicked focus in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. But Morgan knew then. This was how the world ended again. This was her bullshit, her secret, come back to punish her.

Morgan, in her kitchen, sank to the floor without a fight. A week ago or more she might have fought, straining against herself: come on, please, don’t be like this. But there didn’t seem to be a point today. When her own hands went limp and her insides slid down into the tar pit she carried inside her, it was almost a relief. Against the sound of competing car alarms, she curled herself as small and tight as her body would let her. The ambulances would follow and she wasn’t sure if she wished all of them would make it out alive or if knowing someone’s mom or dad walked out without a scratch would feel too personally unfair. Her limbs were heavy, as numb and ghostly as if they’d been left out in the freezing rain, and she sank into the puddle she’d made until she could imagine herself melting into it, and the nothing beyond.

Deirdre’s ears were deaf to tragedy; the tire screeching, metal crunching was no more noise to her than crickets’ chirping. She knew car crashes because she’d seen them a thousand different ways, a thousand different times—and even this one came as no surprise to the banshee. What caught her attention was the clang of metal below, too close to home to be the wreck. She waited and listened; her senses were dulled to horror but at their fullest for Morgan, who had been preparing tea. The kettle did not whistle, Morgan wasn’t pattering up the stairs. She rose quickly, descended the stairs quicker, and rushed to Morgan with enviable reflex—something those drivers might have killed for outside, if they thought about it between their yelling. She knelt at her body, as if paying respects, and picked the upturned kettle off the ground. Most of the boiling tea had spilt and begun its toll on Morgan’s quick-healing flesh, but Deirdre still pulled a kitchen towel free and mopped up whatever mess was or would touch Morgan. “My love,” her voice was soft and forgiving. As she took in the sight of Morgan on the floor, she understood that panic would not help her. She settled her body around Morgan’s and held her tight, the best she could do for now. “How bad is it?” She asked, the only question she would offer for the moment, “one to ten; how bad?”

The family Honda had looped around the feeder twice before Morgan, eighteen and terrified, got control of the wheel and steered them into the shopping strip where she had just gotten a summer job. The console bruised her side and she couldn’t figure out how to press on her dad’s limbs to control the gas or the break or which pedal did which thing, she just didn’t want to kill anyone and her dad was sputtering noises she’d never heard a person make and staring back from her to the road and back again, no longer her dad who knew everything and comforted, but just a soul on the brink of terror. No one had called Morgan ‘a kid,’ then. No one had warned her that it was only going to get worse from there either.

In the kitchen, in the back of Morgan’s mind where a seed of herself remained, she thought, Deirdre probably needs to know. But elsewhere, Morgan also thought, Well gee, what does it look like? She said neither, only sank. Maybe if she had been quieter about it, or stayed in their room and abandoned any idea so absurd as having an okay day, this would have been it. Mission failure; better luck next time. But then Morgan’s corpse was lifted and the stiff pressure of Deirdre squeezed around her. It popped something loose inside her body and her face crumpled as she began to cry. She didn’t have any words to offer, not in her throat or anywhere else. She knew the truth (today was a ten) and what some other version of herself would beg her to say (I’m sorry, I’ve maybe definitely put off my next round of decap by two days now, please help me). But these thoughts never left the dark inside her. Morgan only hid her face in the crook of her neck, hating how badly she craved Deirdre’s grip, and worse, how little it helped.

Deirdre knew what a lack of answer meant, and wordlessly, she tightened her grip around Morgan until her muscles began to quiver. She didn’t care about cracking ribs or crushing lungs, she would give Morgan as much pressure as her body would allow, and then she’d find a way to give her more. Deirdre brought her lips to Morgan’s ear, making sure her low hummed voice was the only sound Morgan would be hearing. Whatever was in her head, the world around her was safe and waiting for her to come back. “You’re here,” she rasped, “you’re in my arms right now, my love, okay? You’re here. I’m here. There’s nothing else.” She wasn’t sure how long she would be holding Morgan, there was no equation for this sort of thing, but there was no rush in her mind--no place she would rather be. If it took them hours, she would be here for hours. If it took them years, then she’d be there, holding Morgan against their tea-stained tiles, for years. She tightened her grip, finding her arms could offer no more strength. “I’m here,” she repeated, “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.” Deirdre wouldn’t know what was happening in Morgan’s head unless she shared, and she didn’t know how long it would be until she found her tongue, but she didn’t concern herself with time or guessing traumas. She was here. She would stay. She would wait.

In Morgan’s mind, the wreck lasted for hours and no time at all at once. Whether by magic or by will, the family Honda obeyed each traffic light and never hit another car with more than a bump. Morgan, still eighteen, still stiff and waiting for the universe to show her what to do. She was afraid of ruining someone else’s car, and she was afraid no one would notice the teenager straining against her seatbelt for control of the wheel. In another, less-cursed world, there would be some nurse or a surgeon on the freeway at the same time, heading to the parking ride ten minutes away, and they would swerve in front of the car and make  everything stop and tell Morgan what was going on and how it was all going to be okay. But she pulled them across traffic without anyone sounding their horn for more than a second. When the car, still rolling forward at forty miles per hour, jumped the curb and smashed into a decorative palm tree.

Her dad’s head listed to one side, like he was too tired to sit anymore, and Morgan thought for a second that was the end of it. Then he started to groan and cough, sick dribbling down his lips and the front of his shirt. He was choking. Morgan couldn’t pull back his seat, or work her arms around his body to give him the Hamlisch from her spot in the passenger seat. She could only shove her weight behind his back until he flopped onto the wheel, climb out of the car, screaming for a phone. It was still hot, so working enough of a sweat to soak her back didn’t tell her anything about the time, just that a girl screaming for help wasn't worth even stopping to gawk at.

In the kitchen, the sun moved to a different place in the sky. Morgan wheezed to find an easy breath. It was cruel, how good Deirdre’s words sounded and how much they weren’t true. Deirdre had left half her brain at Lydia’s, and if she were really all there was in the world, Morgan wouldn’t hurt in the first place.

There was more than just Deirdre around her, too, much as Morgan wanted to believe otherwise. Morgan’s corpse, for one thing, could only take in so much touch; the rest was cotton and air. And how much was Morgan really here? If she were, her ribs would’ve cracked by now and the pinch in her back wouldn’t have taken so long to notice. A Morgan that was really here would have more than gravity and pressure to anchor herself, and more color on her besides necrosis. She wouldn’t be floating away from her body like old wallpaper that had lost its glue. Had her dad felt this numb in his last moments? Did his brain let him feel anything at all, or did he just stay scared and tired as all the good parts of him flooded with blood and shut down? Was this how dead people were supposed to feel? Were they glad they didn’t have to be anything at all? Was it bad if part of her envied how quickly his eyes had closed now? That she wanted just a piece of  his heavy, god-awful sleep?

“Mmm...I’m…” Her mouth felt numb and clumsy. She gave up and stayed limp in Deirdre’s arms some more. There was no sleep, no escaping, no relief. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Real death was quiet. It was the only peace you needed. Morgan would take just a nap, half an hour of oblivion, and a sense that the world wasn’t so bad as you thought before. She’d give anything to be able to make the world stop and recharge like that.

Deirdre’s words circled her ears even when she grew quiet, a song stuck on repeat. Morgan whimpered, bitterly wishing for the ends between the two of them to meet, for there to be anything but the dark and the pit. The sun moved again, and Morgan felt Deirdre shift around her. Afternoon. Lydia. Which meant Deirdre being here was a lie now too. Morgan shook her head, trying to dispel the song of her girlfriend’s words. Wanting them to be true wouldn’t make it so.

“We crashed like that, when my dad died,” she croaked. “I was steering from the passenger seat. I tried so hard to keep him awake. I ran back and forth from the shops in the strip we were at to the car. He was so heavy, I couldn’t shake him awake.” She shrank into herself, willing her body to melt into the floor again. “I know you have somewhere else to be,” she said, her voice hardening. “And why should you or anyone else care? He was just a human.”

Morgan’s words rang through the air, vibrating against Deirdre’s ribcage and down into her depths. For as long as it took Morgan to speak, Deirdre held her; taut even against her own pain. She whispered words of nonsensical comfort; words of her being here, words of her love and the breadth of her care. What normally slipped between Morgan’s lips when she summoned the power to speak was an apology, an apology Deirdre was always swift to say wasn’t needed, but an apology all the same. Morgan’s words now were part explanation, part injury. She couldn’t have been saying her father was just human for any purpose than to hurt Deirdre, and stunned that the woman who was always so afraid of just that was now doing it so plainly, Deirdre hushed her whispers. “I have nowhere else to be,” she said, her voice mimicking Morgan’s hardened tone. “If you want me gone, you have to say it. If you can’t, then I’m going to keep holding you. And you can say anything else you want, but it won’t make me let you go.” It was true the sky was red, inching its way towards dark. And it was true that outside of them, Lydia would be coming back home, and Deirdre had always made a point to be there for her. But Deirdre’s love was stubborn, and it knew better. She noted car crashes as something to warn Morgan about, and made another decision to drive less hectically. With her arms, muscles alight with agony and old injuries awoken, she scrounged enough strength to pull her girlfriend closer. “So tell me about your father and what you’re thinking. Tell me about that day. Tell me about anything you can, anything you want to. Anything at all.”

Morgan flinched at Deirdre’s reply. As much as she tried, she could sink to the ground no further with Deirdre vibrating against her body with the force of her grip. Morgan tried, clenching up to make herself small one moment and then turning into dead weight the next. A sob fell through her clenched teeth. “Don’t lie. You can’t wait to leave and worry about someone else. Why wouldn’t you? Why would you stay when I’m this miserable?” For a few choice seconds, it seemed like Morgan’s bitterness would be strong enough to propel her to her feet or at least shoot enough energy into her arms to make her claw her way down to the floor and bury her face in spilled tea where it belonged. She brought a trembling hand up to clasp Deirdre’s, which had latched on as if with claws and would not let go. Morgan gripped it, thinking she might just use her strength to tear it off—and squeezed, pressing it further into her body. More sobs broke through her. She could not see from the pit inside her what was worth staying for or why Deirdre remained. But she was too aware of how her body fit around hers like an exoskeleton. Morgan imagined what would be to simply crawl inside Deirdre and hide inside her until the pain stopped. She imagined how it would be to scream and take everything she hated down with it. But when she opened her mouth again, the sound was so strangled and broken, it barely made a noise at all. I don’t understand, she wanted to tell her. Explain why you’re here and why you love me, why is this happening, why am I so awful and stupid after everything that’s happened… One broken cry followed another, one for each thought she didn’t have the words to speak.

When she did find them, throaty and halting, they weren’t any of the impossible questions she ached to ask. As Deirdre asked, she told her about the day. Maybe it didn’t make sense, starting with the lunch they’d shared at the Olive Garden that she had been so absurdly proud of paying for, but it was always what Morgan thought about when she was looking for an ‘undo’ button for the whole thing. She’d ordered them cannolis for dessert, which were doomed to end up on the steering wheel looking like cottage cheese not two hours later. There were the X-Files tapes she was asking about for her birthday, October and November was the time to start saving and planning, nothing too expensive or too precious. And maybe the glare of the sun on the windshield was inconsequential too. It stung Morgan’s eyes the same way it did on every bright day before and after, but maybe if she had been looking somewhere else she might have noticed something sooner. The song from Cabaret that had been playing right before everything started was important, without a doubt, but Morgan couldn’t explain why, even to herself. She only knew it was as clear in her mind as the wailing ambulance sirens and the way she’d yelled at the paramedics trying to help. She still sang “Maybe This Time” around the house sometimes; for some reason it never made her sad. The book she had been halfway through that day, on the other hand, was another story. Morgan’s original copy had been stuck on the floor of the car, then ripped open somewhere in her panicked crawling back and forth, so there was that. But Ruth, in an act of misguided kindness, had bought her another one to cheer her up a week after the accident. But try as Morgan might, everything after page 132 blurred together into nonsense. Her brain refused to process the rest of the story, not when the dad she’d liked talking about it with didn’t exist anymore. Morgan told Deirdre this and everything else, everything she’d kept under lock and key because some people were too precious to share, or so she sometimes thought. There were silences that felt long to her, staring halfway into the nowhere space she pretended to sleep in, because she’d already seen it some ten or a hund red times and didn’t want to go for a hundred and one. If she could go to the floor, if she couldn’t go to her grave or sick her head into her girlfriend’s chest cavity, maybe she could go into the air, or the ether, a ghost of herself so she wouldn’t have to look.

It didn’t work. The words, now loosened for the first time out of a sliding scale therapy office, wouldn’t stop, and she flinched and choked on the memory until there was nothing left to say. “I think everything good about me came from him,” she mumbled, no joy in the statement, however much she knew it to be true. “Maybe eighteen was too soon for more of it to stick, and that’s why I’m such a shitshow. That, and that fucking ghost witch…” There was something else, something more substantial and practical that Deirdre needed to know, but it was like that book, all fuzzy and incomprehensible right at the bottom of the page where ‘what now’ was supposed to be.

The pit, as Morgan called it, was a strange place to be. It twisted words; made logic into falsehood and lies into reality. But Deirdre did not groan at the pit’s manipulation, she did not hiss in impatience or scold the fallacies. Calmly, steadily, she reminded Morgan of facts that hadn’t changed, and would never: she loved her today, now, just as she did yesterday. She would love her tomorrow and the day after and many more days beyond. Love was never miserable work. “I promise,” she said, “that I want to be here with you. I promise that there is nowhere else I would rather be right now. I promise that I love you--now, still, always. I promise that I’m here, and that I’m listening to you.” Her arms protested, body heavy with ache, but she kept her hold around Morgan. She thought of each torturous piece of training she’d endured--all the drowning, cutting, whipping, stabbing, killing--none of it was like this, because this wasn’t torture, and it never would be. “I want to be here because I love you, Morgan. I care about you. That’s true no matter what state you’re in, my love. I promise it is. I love you just as you are, however you are, always.” She knew better than to take Morgan’s bitterness to heart, not when it was intertwined with sobs and unable to produce the sentence she was asking for. It might have been new to her in this state, but the pit was a strange place to be, and it did strange things.

When Morgan found her words again, less angry though no bit less broken, Deirdre shifted her grip so Morgan’s story wouldn’t be muffled into her blouse. What she knew of Morgan’s father was limited, though she understood Morgan’s hesitance. So much of her life had been marked by tragedy and loss. The good was always stained with the unbearable, the memory of her father was touched by death in its cruelest form. She often wondered if Morgan told the year aparts by the hurt that encapsulated them, by the systematic horror that revealed itself year after year, after year---even beyond the curse. Or perhaps, especially beyond it. Then she wondered what she could do to give Morgan good years, until she knew them by their pleasures. Was there some remedy of going back in time? Did she pluck eighteen year old Morgan from that day, after her lunch, bearing the sun from the family car? Deirdre couldn’t hold that girl who cried and shouted and didn’t understand, but she gripped Morgan tighter instead, and imagined she could manipulate time. She would’ve stopped the car, she would’ve told Morgan everything would be okay, she would’ve gone back to the days of Agnes and killed Constance herself. Their clock ticked around them, as if mocking their inability to be anywhere else---there were no times to travel to, and no girls to take from their trauma. There was here and now, living with what had happened. “I think everything good about you comes from you,” she whispered, frail only to her own tears, which she spilled on Morgan’s behalf. “I think nothing about you is a shitshow. You are the strongest person I know, the best person---my favorite person.” But the here and now was thick with pain, and Deirdre realized it wasn’t the past she wanted to tamper with, but the future that she wanted to bring them to---the place where the years had been good for a while, and Morgan could remember her father better as he lived than how he died. “I think you’re good, I think you’ve always been good. I think you’re good now.” Deirdre breathed, repeating herself as if her words might form into a salve. There was the here and the now and both were terrible, but it was all they had.  

Morgan didn’t know how to believe Deirdre, but she promised, she promised so many times and didn’t get sick, only cried, because Morgan was small and pitiful and so unlike herself, and she had to be in pain, rocking with her and holding her so tight her body bent in ways it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m not,” Morgan whimpered. How could she be, like this? With what she knew? With what she wanted? She shivered, working her hands into fists on Deirdre’s shirt. She could find the words she needed more easily now, but she was choking on bent ribs and swallowed sobs. “I’m...s-sorry…” she said. “...I need...I’m sorry...My decap…” For the first time, she tried to lift her head and look at Deirdre face to face. Her lashes dripped with tears, making her eyes seem even wider, her silent plea more desperate. As she spoke, she could hardly bear to think about how much it would sting to stay on the floor for the minute or two it would take for Deirdre to find her concoction and inject it into her brain stem, and worse, of the shame of her own making (who put off taking the medication that kept them from falling into a spiral every other week...because they were too busy falling into a spiral?). What she could grasp, even from the pit, was that she did not want to stay like this. She did not want her dead, numbed chest to keep hurting, nor her throat to turn brittle and raw. A look at her arms showed the necrosis and discoloration taking over her skin; she hadn’t eaten since she’d come back from Lydia’s. Not once. Morgan couldn’t stomach staying that way either. “P-please...m-my decap. The medicine cabinet. I’m sorry I didn’t…” Didn’t take it, or say anything sooner. They might have avoided at least some of this if she’d just told Deirdre while they were laying on each other in bed, trying to hide from the world. But that would’ve just made too much sense, wouldn’t it?” Morgan’s lip trembled, searching for a word that would put everything she wanted to explain into Deirdre’s hands, a single sound to encapsulate, I need you, I’m scared, I don’t want to be like this, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I love you, please help me. All that came out was a broken whine. Morgan lowered her face as misery clenched her insides. Deirdre would do it, because Deirdre was kind and loved her for some mysterious reason, but this was all Morgan’s fault in the first place. And how awful was it, to dread an absence of less than five minutes? To fear that it was just enough time for Deirdre to realize how badly Morgan had hurt her and wasted her day?

“You are,” Deirdre insisted. And though under any other circumstance, she might have thought it childish to argue back and forth about it, she felt it was something she could do tirelessly now--without complaint. She knew it to be true, and she’d say it until her voice gave, and then she’d write it until her fingers turned to bone. “Decap?” She perked up, registering that after hours of laying there, Morgan was finally asking her for something. Something specific, something she could do. “Right. Yeah.” But the medicine cabinet was far from them, and no matter how quickly she ran, precious minutes would still be spent apart. She pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek, lingering long enough to press another to the corner of her lips. “I’ll be right back, okay? I promise.” The promise wasn’t necessary, but the pit was strange, and she wouldn’t take any chances on whatever words the tar was bubbling to Morgan. Slowly, she lifted herself off the ground, keeping close to Morgan for as long as she could, and then stumbled upright as her legs tried to remember what it was like to move. Her body throbbed, but with one enthusiastic push against their counter, she rushed on her way. The decap was where it always was--syringe and vials in their medicine cabinet upstairs in their bathroom. She took what she needed and sprinted back down; her long legs were like stone and clumsy as they stomped around, but she didn’t mind bumping against walls and stubbing toes against furniture as she moved by Morgan’s side again. “Can you turn your head for me, my love?” She asked sweetly, though she extended her hand and helped Morgan articulate herself anyway. The injection went next and, brushing Morgan’s hair aside with the same care, she administered it as though it were something she did everyday, without fail. In truth, her memory worked well under panic, and her body took over where her mind blanked on the steps. “There,” she rasped, setting the medicine aside on the counter. “Was that okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and pulled Morgan into her arms again. Her mind was still catching up; her first unspoken question was if double-dosing like that was okay. And the second was the jumbled realization that she hadn’t taken it today, and the question of if she’d missed more. There was no judgement that coated her thoughts, only care. If it was hard for Morgan, she could do it. If Morgan needed something else, she could provide it. In the end, she responded to her own questions. “It’s okay,” she breathed Morgan in, “one day at a time. We take it one day at a time.” The here, the now; one day at a time.

Morgan turned limp in Deirdre’s arms, sighing with relief when she told her it was done. The drug would not work instantly, but she would be able to heat herself some dinner later tonight and maybe she would find the words to say all she wanted to give Deirdre. In the here and now, the only language she had was silence and apology, both clumsy in her body, just as painful to bear as all the rest. But Morgan mumbled them between silences: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... She did not grip or pull or beg. All of that energy was spent and working its way through her skull, mending some of the imbalance that kept her chained to the floor. The sun moved, and the words Morgan wanted to say started to take shape. Had Deirdre changed out of her sleepwear? Did she need a bathroom break? Did she know Morgan was still sorry? Did she only think Morgan was good because she loved her? Morgan tried to ask these several times, but the words dissolved on her tongue as soon as she tried, and the point, to try at all, seemed so very small just then. “...Thank you,” she finally managed, her voice only half garbled. “I do love you. And I’m...you shouldn’t have to do this. I don’t like to do this...be this. Deirdre…” Her girlfriend’s name came out like its own prayer. Looking up, head on her shoulder, Morgan reached out to touch the dry dears on Deirdre’s cheek. She whispered her name again, reverent and sorrowful, the way you spoke words of penance. “I’m sorry. I screwed up. I didn’t mean to, I was just so tired inside, and I thought I’d be able to…” she shook her head and tried to curl up her body on will alone.

Legs stiff, arms throbbing, carrying Morgan to bed was a harder task than Deirdre thought it ought to be, but she was thankful when the threshold of their bedroom was crossed and she could collapse them on their plush mattress. Pulling the sheets up around them was another thing, but once the brunt of the work was done, everything else was instinct. She shot Lydia a quick text about where she was and another to her assistant to come in and feed the cats. Then she bundled around Morgan, holding and waiting and listening. Whatever Morgan was trying to say was just whimpers, and though Deirdre tried her best to decipher them, all she got in the end were whimpers. But she waited, she listened, she held Morgan as if she’d fall apart if she didn’t. Words came eventually in a ‘thank you’, easily met with a, “don’t thank me, my love. You don’t have to.” If words were hard, Deirdre wanted Morgan to save them for the things that mattered, a thank you did not. “Why shouldn’t I have to?” She challenged, gentle in her argument. “I love you, I care about you, I’m not blind to what that entails. If that means you want me to hold you when this happens, then I’ll hold you. I’d be honoured to. I know you don’t want to be like this, Morgan, no one does...but…” she turned and met Morgan’s gaze, greeting her sadness with a warm smile. “...it’s okay that you are. I don’t mind. It’s all okay, my love. All of it, every bit. I love you so much, always.” She shifted, pressing her fingers against Morgan’s ribs, trying to see if she’d jostled them too far out of their place somehow. She reached for her heart next, knowing there was no beat to pulse under her fingers, but drumming one there anyway. “You didn’t screw anything up. Don’t you dare be sorry, I won’t take it. Your thank you’s are already on thin ice, love. Can’t add any more weight to the load there. So we’ll take your apologies and put them somewhere else; they’re not for you and they’re not for me.” She knew there was no sleep for Morgan to find, not anymore, but she shifted them again and tried to tuck Morgan in for rest. “Anything else you want to get off your chest before I start covering you in kisses?”

Morgan tried to find her arguments, which seemed very clear in her mind but did not seem to hold up well to words. Why should anyone have to spend their day on the floor? How on the mother’s earth could any of her warnings from their early days have prepared Deirdre for this? Did she realize that even with her treatment, making it out of bed for more than a couple of hours was an idiot’s guessing game? Morgan didn’t even want that for herself, much less someone she loved. Morgan couldn’t get them out, and Deirdre’s energy was steadfast as ice, and she settled for placing soft, melancholic kisses on her skin where she could reach without really lifting her head. Some of the weight around her had receded, and the odd floating feeling of being somewhere so soft as a bed had become a comfort. Morgan did not fight being tucked or caressed. She let her obedience look like calm if that was what it wanted to look like and wished for a better life, as she had all those years before. “Did you know...you’ve known me longer dead than alive?” She said, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn’t wilt or cry under Deirdre’s compassion for her. “Everything about us from before is going to be so small, if it isn’t already. Some days I forget what you used to feel like, so I remember what I wrote about it instead.” Morgan could not speak about her longing without at least looking at her love. Her eyes slid sidelong, and fresh tears bubbled at the corners. “It’s not fair. My whole life… it wasn’t even for anything, just Constance. Nothing was better, no one got anything out of it, it was all just so she could feel better. Everything I carried, thinking I could just trade it in and have the rest of my time to...be happy. I wanted to be happy with you so badly…” But then one day she went out for ice cream and Constance found her. “I don’t even know who I am without dragging this curse behind me. I can’t believe I ever thought I’d get free…” She thought back to the eighteen year old she’d been, screaming her head off in a parking lot, and then waiting mute in the emergency room, and then the funeral home while a neighbor woman observed that, well, at least she was mostly grown up, if it had to happen. At least she got to have the important years, but what a shame that he would never be able to give her away to a husband now. And Morgan thought of Constance: Constance and her ratty red braids, the hatred burning in her blue eyes, her crooked teeth cut in a grimace. It didn’t matter that her life had been destroyed, or almost destroyed, or whatever the story turned out to be. It didn’t matter that she was young and reckless, and a witch. What mattered was the cauldron Constance gave herself to over a hundred years ago and the ritual Morgan kept locked in her safe along with her growing stockpile of ingredients. There was nothing she could ever do to fully lift herself out of this wakeful fog, no escape from the pit entirely. But she could seal its source and make it so not one more anguish was added, not one more body was made. And maybe when the exorcist waved the iron comb over the circle, Constance’s form would peel away like cheese through a shredder, and the sound would be enough like Morgan’s own useless cries that maybe for a couple of minutes they would feel even.

Morgan held this thought tightly to her heart and breathed through her teeth in shaky intervals, yearning for the calm it would bring her, and the comfort being offered by Deirdre in front of her. “I don’t know how to tell you,” she whispered, “What feeling like this is, where everything is so strong, and so far away at the same time. I can’t even use all of my old coping strategies. I don’t feel enough things, and my brain doesn’t talk to my body like it’s alive anymore, so I have to adjust the technique, and then when I do, it’s like I hit a square one button and everything becomes twice as sad as before. I don’t know how to explain how nothing helps, or how...even if nothing helps it hurts so much less when you look at me like that, and when you hold me. I don’t understand it, and I wish you didn’t have to, but it hurts so much less, Deirdre…” She hiccuped a cry and wiped her eyes. “M-maybe tomorrow, or next week...I can make things better? I can...do something? Will you kiss me and tell me I can do something?”

There were no words to describe Deirdre’s relief; Morgan was talking and thinking and not trying to be hurtful. She was still far from smiling and laughing, but she was better than she had been, and for Deirdre, the happiness couldn’t be contained. It was as if she felt everything twice for the both of them. Settled in, she began the task of painting Morgan’s body with kisses, nips and the occasional mumbled word of affection, as if she could alchemist its meaning there and make it stick. “I remember,” she mumbled, lifting her hand and running it down Morgan’s hip, pausing in the middle of her thigh where she couldn’t reach anymore. “This would always make you shiver.” She tried the action again, harder, and again and again until she had no more pressure left to apply. Her fingers could only do so much now, and she cursed them for being so useless—she could tell where Morgan wanted more and where her body was just shy of giving everything over. It frustrated her to no end that there were limits she couldn’t pass, things she couldn’t completely offer Morgan. But frustration and limitation fueled creativity, and she’d only ever wanted to be able to give Morgan more; give her everything. “But you know I don’t think of it like that—alive and dead. And if I did, wouldn’t I be lucky? To be able to know your body twice, learn it twice? To have loved you, twice? I’d be the luckiest.” She raked her teeth down Morgan’s shoulder, pressing in. “I’m already so lucky, just like this. And whatever you can’t feel, I’ll feel for the both of us. It won’t be small, I won’t let it be small, not for me. Even when you learn to feel me differently. I remember, and I can tell you. Morgan, I—“ Deirdre pressed in harder, arms taut, body flush, teeth bared in bite. She wanted to pull Morgan safe behind her ribcage if she could, someplace deep and warm inside of her where her pit of coldness could be replaced with one that burned of love. “I was made better by your life, Morgan. And I had only known you then some months. Can you imagine how you must’ve touched others in ways they never could tell you? I don’t believe for a second that your life was for nothing. It was for you, it was yours. You lived it the best you could, better than anyone else could have. My love, you are bright and kind and hopeful and persistent and you told me that the only thing you could do was try and you tried better than anyone else I’ve known. It wasn’t fair that she took you, it’s not fair that you must remember your life by its tragedies, but you did good, Morgan. You did the best. Please don’t let her take ownership of your life’s memory. You made it good, you made it mean something, you made your life—it’s yours, it was for you.” Fate was not kind to Morgan, but Deirdre had always loved and admired how Morgan carved her life out despite it. She was buried underground, as if born in a cave that closed over. And she dug and dug, and got tired, and dug again even when more dirt filled back her work. And that was nothing short of commendable, nothing shy of loveable. It was amazing, and it would always speak incredible volumes to Morgan’s life—beautiful, persistent, and messy. “I love you so much. The hope you had wasn’t foolish, it proved everything good about you; your dedication, your kindness, your understanding, your stubbornness, even right down to your boundless strength. Your hope was something you made yourself; a diamond you molded under all the mud—invaluable, always. Beautiful forever. And as for who you are…” Deirdre smiled against her skin. “....you’re the one who told me it was okay to be figuring that out. So, it’s okay.”

The momentum of her speech fluttered momentarily as Deirdre paused to rasp all of her love against Morgan’s body. She found it in words, in a voice that cracked from all its fervent devotion. In the tips of her fingers, trying hard and expertly to be the feeling Morgan lacked. It was in her lips, each kiss she pressed and lingered. “I think you just explained it, my love,” she said. And while there was so much she wanted to say—Morgan would figure it out and she was here, right here with her, she would always be here—Deirdre kissed her as asked, rough and desperate and then again because she didn’t think the first time was good enough. She was always convinced that she could be kissing Morgan better, and she always tried. With teeth, with tongue, with her body wrapped tighter, hands somewhere else. She could try it a million times, and still want to try a million more. She almost didn’t want there to be a perfect kiss, so she could try forever. “There’s nothing to make better,” she breathed as they parted. “Nothing you have to do, but yes, yes. Whatever it is, you can. Whenever you want to. I’ll let you and I’ll be here and if you can’t then that’s okay, you can try it again later. As many times as you want. You can, you can, you can make everything better.”

Morgan cried silently to hear her girlfriend talk. Some of it was familiar, and soothing for the memories it gave her, even if they didn’t quite stick. She could see the path of the curse so clearly now that it had taken its final payment, even past when she was three, and into her mother’s regrets before then. All the dead relatives, the ruined houses, the opportunities for more that turned to ash as soon as they were touched. All the fight and determination in her, and she hadn’t walked off the path Constance had laid out for her even once. She had tried her best and when she came to stay in this house, it seemed like she could carve something out that would stick, for once. Then she was dead a month later. From here, flat on her back and choking on her own misery, all the hope and trying didn’t seem to amount to as much as they usually did.

It was much easier to focus on the simple fact of Deirdre’s voice, always a little musical, her accent lilting up as if she were about to break into song. And she did sing so pretty, when she let herself. Better was Deirdre’s touch, the places she pinched and tugged, and the sharp-sweet bite of her teeth. Morgan sighed, so relieved after the day to feel something besides apathy or disgust about her body. The marks Deirdre’s mouth left behind were gone in an instant, but Morgan imagined that her skin remembered, and knew where they were supposed to fit, where her skin belonged in her mouth. Her fingers twitched, knowing that sometimes touching Deirdre back would convince her that things weren’t so bad. If she could just be with her… But Morgan took one look at her hands, those first signs of decay, and her insides twisted all over again. She couldn’t even keep up with her feeding schedule like this. Morgan wanted to hide, or split herself in two and bury the one self under ground until this was over, let her other self be loved. How sad, that she wanted to be loved so badly she’d take anything, everything from Deirdre even when she felt like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

Morgan laid very still, and pretended to breathe so her mind had fewer places to wonder. She was tired. Not being able to sleep had an awful, funny way of making you feel so very tired sometimes, tired enough to scream, and too tired to do anything but pray for the impossible. “I’m sorr—” She winced, remembering the rule. “I wish I could be that person again. I feel like...I get really close sometimes, but then things like this happen, and then…I’m not anything. But I—” No ‘thank you’s. That was another rule too, one that she remembered agreeing to when she felt like herself, even if it seemed absurd now. “It means everything, that you’re here. That you still, that you’re always gonna...I don’t even know if I can trust half the thoughts in my own head right now, but I can believe in you. I tried not to and it didn’t work, so I…”  Try as she might, Morgan couldn’t quite make all the words come together. There was something to be said about how she hadn’t known, even alive, if there was such a thing as love that could withstand disaster, love that was unconditional and strong and alive. She had acted as though there was so she could make it herself, manifest the thing she wanted as if by magic. But Deirdre was the one who sealed the spell every time she picked her up off the floor. Deirdre made the world worth believing in when Morgan couldn’t believe in anything else at all. And maybe that was a mistake, maybe they were building one rickety jenga tower together that was one bad wish away from falling over, but it was all Morgan had and she couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

“I love you,” she said, dragging her lips over Deirdre’s skin, whatever she could touch without lifting her head. “Please believe that even when I’m awful like this, I still love you.” She sniffled, and breathed out slowly. “Please kiss me again.” Next time, tomorrow would be better. Or it wouldn’t, but maybe she wouldn’t drop the kettle or she’d make it to the couch instead of the floor. Maybe next time she would wake up and believe that the world was wonderful and people were kind more often than not, and she wasn’t terrible for anything she was or wanted or felt. Maybe next time, she would know what to do, and she would crawl out of the pit a little further. Maybe.

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures: 9/?

Masterlist : Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Finn schedules a meeting with the grounders, Y/N’s secret is revealed, and another tragedy strikes her and Clarke. But at least they have alcohol and party games

Warnings: slight angst, violence, swearing, references to sex, alcohol, teenagers being teenagers

Notes: I loved writing this and I wish there were more instances of parties in the 100 because they’re super fun to write and imagine. Based on 1x09 ‘Unity Day’

She had missed alcohol, especially the moonshine back on Agro station that she and Miller used to steal for each other's birthdays. As Jaha's speech continued to ramble on behind her, she was the first one to celebrate as Jasper and Monty brought out the still of moonshine.

"We call this batch Unity Juice!" Jasper called, dishing it out in the metal cups they came down with.

She and Miller clinked cups as they downed the burning concoction, their throats on fire as it rerouted to her brain, waking her up and sending a spike of adrenaline through her body. It felt so good to let loose once again, to just forget about saving the camp, forget about the grounders, and forget about her dumb feelings.

"Having fun yet Sparky?" Bellamy asked, stepping beside her.

She nodded, tension falling from her shoulders as the moonshine swished around in her stomach,  "The most fun."

A laugh escaped his mouth at the sight of Y/N going for another drink, gulping down this one just as fast as the last.

"Whoaaa" Jasper called from his buzzed state, "Looks like we may have someone who can give me a run for their money."

She flashed a smirk at the floppy-haired delinquent before grasping her gun and taking a post at the wall, her eyes scanning the forest for any sign of grounders.

"Hey, hey" Bellamy stopped her, grasping the weapon, "Uh, what are you doing?"

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, "Taking watch, someone has to."

"And that someone is me" He announced to her, holding another cup of unity juice in his hands, "You go have fun, you deserve it."

Y/N smiled cautiously as she traded the rifle for the alcohol, warmth filling her chest from the small contact that had passed between them. She sat down next to the fire, joining Jasper and Monty in the middle of a drinking game.

"Y/N!" The latter called, his friend too drunk to respond, "Thank goodness you're here. We're playing never have I ever and Miller's crushing us all."

A sneaky smile crossed her face as she joined for a round. "Don't worry, I know exactly how to take him down."

Miller leaned forward, an eyebrow raised in a challenge as it reached him once again. "Never have I ever had sex during the engineering test."

She drank, drawing the attention of the crowd toward her. She shrugged, "What? I was bored so I left for a bathroom break" The rest of the group burst into laughter, "I still got a perfect score though,"

"Bullshit" Raven called out, a crooked smile on her face.

She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, making sure to leave the answer ambiguous.

"Alright Y/N," Monty replied, "it's your turn."

She smirked, recalling a fond memory from her and Miller's time aboard Alpha station. "Never have I ever stolen from the Chief of the Guard and the Chancellor in one day."

Miller shook his head in annoyance, "You asshole," He muttered taking a gulp from his cup as the crowd burst into oohs and ahhs. She shrugged, giggles escaping as her chest continued to fill with laughter. She was having fun, for the first time in a long time.

By the time it reached Raven, she could feel the buzzing in her stomach, her tolerance beginning to waver.

"Never have I ever…" The mechanic's eyes searched the camp, her question lingering before she came up with a proper one, "wanted to have sex with anyone in this camp."

Y/N knew the question was pointed at her, but she still refused to drink.

"Oh, whatever!" Raven called her out as everyone drank, "We all know there's someone you want to bang against the wall of the dropship, and we all know it’s Bellamy."

Y/N scoffed, a fit of laughter escaping her in order to conceal her true thoughts. "First of all, having sex in the dropship is impractical and filthy, and second, Bellamy and I are just friends."

Raven rolled her eyes, "Whatever, we all know you want to tap that." She smirked as she took another sip from her cup.

"It's not like they haven't gotten close" Monroe joined in the teasing.

"I always wonder what happens when you two go on hunting missions together" Miller piped up, a wide smile on his face as he watched his best friend squirm under the attention.

"Go on Y/N" Raven baited, "It's okay to admit you're human and want to have sex with him, just like the rest of us."

"Want to have sex with who?" Bellamy's voice rang out behind her and she froze, eyes watching as playful expressions tightened across the delinquent's faces before Raven spoke up again.

"I'm gonna go get some more drinks, anyone else want some?" Her eyes teased the poor girl before Monroe and Miller stood up to follow, leaving Y/N and Bellamy sitting by the fire alone.

He joined her on the log as he asked his previous question, "So, who do you want to have sex with?"

She rolled her eyes, "I thought you were above petty games."

"I am" He smirked, "But you're avoiding the question, so I thought I'd ask."

She took another drink to calm her rising nerves, "And so the asshole makes another reappearance."

Bellamy laughed at the comeback, Y/N's gaze flickering over his profile, examining the freckles on his face, his olive skin glowing in the orange embers of the fire.

"Here" he spoke, pulling out a group of berries from the inside of his jacket, "I thought you'd like some."

A gentle smile crossed her face as she reached into his palm, grasping at the red fruit before popping it into her mouth, "You're just trying to get me to sober up."

"Maybe" His lips tugged upward, "Or maybe I just wanted to share my findings with the smartest girl on earth."

She paused at the compliment, meeting his heated gaze. The gaze that kept flickering to her chewing mouth. She licked her lips, swallowing the berries, along with the nerves she had been hiding for the past few days.

***

She grinned in satisfaction as the washer she threw bounced off the table into the cup on Fox's side. She let out a cheer of victory as Drew and her clapped their hands together.

"You gotta drink that!" She yelled at Sterling, who rolled his eyes. She felt the weight of an arm on her shoulder and turned to face Drew, whose hand was now dangling close to her chest.

They watched in baited silence as Sterling lined up the next shot, landing perfectly in the tin.

"Oh come on" she complained, a bright smile on her face. She grasped the cup and plugged her nose, Drew shooting a wink at her before she downed the contents of the cup. "That all you got?"

"You're amazing at this Y/N" Drew complimented, a twinkle in his eye as he moved closer. "We make a great team."

Her response was cut off by a deep voice cutting through the trees. "Y/N!"

She whipped around, a wide smile growing on her face as she caught the movement of Bellamy Blake coming toward her.

"Bellamy!" She ran forward, his anger dissipating as she left the washer pong table. "I'm so happy you're here, we need a referee on our side, Monroe's too biased."

She barely caught the glare Bellamy sent Drew's way, eyeing the delinquent up and down before pulling her to the side.

"I need to talk to you" He glanced around, "alone."

Y/N looked around her, "We are alone." She gasped in realization, bringing her hands to Bellamy's face before pushing his face back and forth.

"What are you doing?" He asked as her hands smushed the area around his mouth.

"I just realized your freckles have the same pattern as the star charts we used to read from the Ark" She spoke frantically, "This is revolutionary, maybe there's a correlation between being born in space and genetic anomalies." She took her hands off his face, Bellamy breaking into a toothy smile involuntarily.

"Maybe that's why my blood is the color it is." She spoke aloud, "Maybe that's why we can metabolize the radiation so well." A wide smile crossed her face as her breathing grew faster, and she moved to pull out her book, "I have to write this down--"

He grasped her wrist, drawing her attention back to him. "The scientific discovery can wait, right now we need to go."

He pulled her forward, resistance meeting him. "It’s science!" She called out in protest, "What's more important than that?"

She felt her body tugged closer to his, brown eyes boring into her own, the air turning serious. They were inches from each other, both scanning the other as she licked her lips again, refusing to tear her gaze from the bottom half of his face. Bellamy’s hitching breaths ceased with a cough and he dropped the big news.

"Finn's set up a meeting with the grounders."

"So?" She asked, crossing her arms, "Take Clarke, she's more important anyway."

Bellamy rolled his eyes in annoyance at her stubbornness, "Lincoln said the leader won't talk unless you’re there."

She gulped.

***

Y/N shared a tense glance with Clarke as they stood atop the bridge, Lincoln, Octavia, and Finn behind them. She continued to stare down the stone structure, waiting for the treeline to reveal the people who have been killing them.

The sound of hooves drew the two leaders out of their fearful stupor, watching in awe as several horses clopped across the bridge, carrying several grounders decked out in masks and warpaint. A woman rode between them, her eyes shadowed by the black paint commonly worn by the grounders.

Clarke and Y/N moved forward, waiting in the middle of the bridge as the woman dismounted, her intense gaze locking on both of them.

"Your name is Clarke?" She asked, arms crossed.

"Yes"

The woman turned toward her next. "And your name is Y/N?"

She swallowed, holding her head high. "Yes."

"I’m Anya" The grounder replied, refusing to say anything further.

"I think we got off to a rough start," Clarke's voice cut through the tension, "But we want to find a way to live in peace. All of us."

Anya tilted her head, "I understand, you started a war you don't know how to end."

Disbelief coursed through Y/N, her expression incredulous.

"No" Clarke protested, "You attacked us for no reason!"

"No reason?" Anya's glare kept flitting to Y/N, "The missiles you launched burnt a village to the ground!"

"The flares? That was a signal meant for our families, we didn't mean to harm anyone."

Anya's dark eyes stared her down. "You're invaders," She announced, fists clenching, "Your ship landed in our territory." The two grounders moved forward, spears at the ready.

Y/N spoke up, "We didn't know anyone was here."

She saw a glint of respect cross Anya's eyes before the grounder turned back on Clarke. "You knew we were here when you sent a raiding party to capture one of our own and torture him"

Y/N closed her eyes in frustration before continuing, "That's because he kidnapped one of our people and held her captive." She stepped forward, the grounders following suit. "You were the one who fired the first shot, spearing Jasper and stringing him up as live bait."

Anya grasped the knife from her belt, her hand latching onto Y/N's wrist as she pricked the tip of the knife against her palm, drawing the black blood forward.

Clarke's eyes widened as Anya pulled away.

A reverent whisper shuffled through the grounders as they watched the liquid drip onto the stone below.

"You killed one of my warriors Y/N of the Sky People," Anya hissed.

Y/N refused to let her gaze drop, "He shouldn't have killed my friends."

***

Bellamy watched with bated breath through the scope of his rifle, the interaction not going unnoticed by the rest of the group.

"Grounder princess looks pissed," Raven muttered. The three of them stayed quiet as they watched Y/N and the grounder leader invade each other's personal space, both with crossed arms.

Bellamy bobbed his head slightly, "Yeah, well Sparky has that effect."

He sent up a prayer to whatever entity remained, please let them get out of this alive.

***

Becca's words rang in her head over and over. 

How you get to the goal matters. 

There's always another choice. 

Clearly, she hadn't met these people.

"Your commander is bold" Anya spoke to Clarke, sending a wary look at Y/N before facing the blonde again. "Is it true more of your warriors are coming down?"

"Yes," Clarke breathed, ignoring the previous statement, "but also doctors, engineers, farmers. People that can give you medicine and technology. People that will want to help you. But Ark Guards are also coming, and if they think you're a threat, they will wipe you out."

Anya mulled over Clarke's words sending another glance at Y/N before responding.

"Can you promise that your people will agree to the terms you and I set once they arrive?"

Clarke spared another look toward Y/N, who nodded, knowing it was better for Anya to know the truth than give them false hope.

"I-I can't." Clarke admitted, "I'm sorry."

Anya's eyebrows creased, eyes narrowing, "Why would I agree to an alliance that your people can break the moment they get here?"

"Because it's the only choice." Y/N piped up, holding her head up high, "We can help each other. With your knowledge of the land and our technology, we can both find a way to live peacefully."

Anya shot a wary look at the girl, and it almost seemed like she was considering her words until a gunshot rang out.

"You set us up!" Anya yelled, brandishing the dagger from earlier as she moved to lunge at Y/N. 

A bullet ripped through the grounder's arm instead, and Clarke and Y/N used the distraction to run back into the forest, their feet pounding against the grass as they followed their path back to camp.

Her side split in pain from the run back, and she grasped her ribcage as she panted, hoping to catch her breath again.

"I told you, no guns!" Finn yelled.

"And I told you we couldn't trust the grounders, I was right," Clarke yelled back, and Y/N had to agree with her. "They cut Y/N open to see her blood, who else were they going to kill?"

"They what?" Bellamy asked, his tone turning dark.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were up to Finn?" Raven's voice joined the conversation.

The longer-haired kid's face grew red in frustration, "I did, but you were too busy making bullets for your guns!"

Bellamy moved forward, "You're lucky she brought that! They were there to kill you, Finn."

"You don't know that! Jasper fired the first shot!"

Octavia threw a sneer at Jasper, "You ruined everything."

"I saved you!" He yelled back in protest.

Y/N watched as Finn invaded Bellamy's personal space again, "Well if we weren't at war already, we sure as hell are now." He then turned to Clarke, hurt in his eyes, "You didn't have to trust the grounders, you just had to trust me."

He stormed back into camp and Y/N finally had enough strength to pull herself up from her crouched stance. 

"Best unity day ever" She spoke sarcastically, a sonic boom cutting off any remaining responses.

The three leaders stared into the sky, watching as an object hurtled itself down to the ground at an unnaturally high speed.

"The Exodus ship?" Bellamy asked confused, "Your parents are a day early."

Clarke's face broke out into a wide smile while Y/N examined the ship itself.

"Something's wrong," She muttered, "Too fast. No parachute?"

She watched in horror as the ship disappeared behind the ridge of a mountain, the only remains of the people inhabiting it a mushroom cloud of smoke. She and Clarke collapsed into each other, pain setting their bodies aflame as they came to the realization that both of their parents were gone. 

For good.

Just like Wells and Charlotte.

Never coming back.

***

Bellamy sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, watching as she sucked the remainder of the black blood from her skin, allowing the prick to scab over.

"Well, now you know my big secret." She joked, a fearful look in her eyes as she met his gaze. Bellamy exhaled, grasping her hand in his.

"If black blood is your worst secret, I think we're okay." He teased, a smile on his face. She returned with a small smile of her own.

"My mom told me to keep it hidden" She spoke, a wave of nostalgia washing over her, "Said it was incredibly valuable. Said it was how we survived."

Y/N gazed off into space at the thought, "Marcus never saw it as a problem, always said that my blood didn’t make me special. He was always saying inspirational shit like that." She wiped the tears from her face at the thought of her adoptive father dying in a cloud of flame and smoke. Even as he arrested her, she hadn't wanted him dead. 

She’d never wanted him dead.

"Hey," Bellamy resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, "Hey it's gonna be okay. You don't have to be strong around me remember?"

Y/N sent him a grateful smile before playing with her fingers nervously. "He floated her." She spoke through her thick voice, "My uh, mom. Marcus floated her. For trading morphine of all things." 

She tried to laugh it off unsuccessfully. "A friend of mine needed school supplies, so my mom traded morphine from the clinic to get it. She was caught and …well you can guess the rest."

Bellamy's chest panged in sympathy, eyes scanning the vulnerable look on Y/N's face as he recalled his mother's own floating.

It's why he hated Jaha, why he refused to acknowledge any of the authority figures of the Ark. No wonder Y/N didn't want to talk to her dad.

“And then he- uh, arrested me.” Y/N continued, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in the back of her throat. “Sent me off to the skybox without so much as a goodbye.”

"I'm sorry," He offered his condolences, wrapping his fingers in her own, thumbing the back of her hand.

"I've been losing people for as long as I can remember," She whispered, breath hitching, "I don't want to lose anyone else."

"You won't" Bellamy's chest thumped as he found himself wanting to fulfill that wish, "I promise,"

Y/N sent him a small smile, the two enjoying the comfortable silence they found themselves in.

We getting some quality time with these two, but this is probably the last bit of happy times we’re getting for a bit, so enjoy it!

Permanent Tag List (open): @begonebirds @iamaunicorn4704​@galacticstxrdust​

Tag list (now open!): @chloe-skywalker​@im-a-writer-right​@galacticstxrdust​@clarkewithameme​@shatteredlovesick​ @your-typical-giggle​ @rhyxn​ @amongthewildthingss​ @furiouspockettoad​ @niammain​ @cxddlyash​ @lena-davina​ @kaylinfayezink​​ @gingerxarmy​​ @super-marvel-dale​​ @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo​​ @nerdbookish​​ @valeskasecco @strangerliaa​​ @simsvetements​​ @molethemollie​ @thebookisbtr @im-a-stranger-thing

Please like, comment, and reblog!

[alltherestisdrag]

"That won't work. Try again!" With Branjie? Ahh I would love it😂

I’m not sure about this one because it happened all of a sudden but here you go eeee- hope you like it xx

8. That won’t work. Try again. | Branjie

“Oh my god, Vanessa, it’s been ten minutes!”

The blonde woman was almost going insane with the thought of not being able to get out of that place until their friend finds them after the party ends, most likely the next day. Even if she was okay to be with Vanessa, she hated uncertain situations, ‘cause her anxiety was letting her down as always.

She pushed the other girl away from the door, and set to work with her credit card.

“Well, money doesn’t open all the doors, does it?” The younger girl chuckled behind her back, and made Brooke arch her back with anger.

“Please don’t start, Vanessa!” She hissed and pushed the card harder between the locker and the wood while pulling the knob to herself. “You were the one who followed me!”

When Brooke turned to Vanessa over her shoulder, she could clearly see how regretful she was looking with those puppy eyes and pouted lips, she couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Okay,” she said, “I’m gonna stay calm, just in case if we stuck in here.”

“I wanted to talk, Brooke,” Vanessa said, almost whispering, Brooke put a lot of effort to hear her. “But since you don’t feel like that, I guess I have to...”

She took her bobby-pin again and snuggled to the door, tampering the lock.

When Brooke stepped back slowly, she could feel that there was a little regret of being so hard on her, oozing from her movements. But all she needed was getting out of there anyway. She didn’t want to put too much effort on a woman who doesn’t feel anything about her.

When she had pushed the pin into the locker, she could hear a little click, but it wasn’t enough pressure to open that.

She suddenly felt Brooke’s fingers around her hand, trying to direct her better. Even if Vanessa knew that it wasn’t anything special for Brooke, she felt the butterflies flying inside her stomach.

She hated that, hated being the one that fell so hard, hated not being enough for Brooke. It was a load of unfortunate events for her, and there was nothing to fix that, unless she decides to set her heart on fire.

“That won’t work,” Brooke whispered softly. “Try again.” With her getting closer and talking, Vanessa was completely able to feel her warm breathe behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Jesus,” she mouthed and handed the pin to Brooke, let the whole task to her. “You do it then, I give up.” That was a less romantic and definetely more formal way of saying, “I can’t stand being so close to you when it feels like you’re miles away from me.”

“Okay,” Brooke said, focused onto the lock. “Let’s see what we can do with this little monster.” She slightly bended the pin, and pushed it inside, making them hearing the clicks better.

“See? It’s gonna work!” She was definetely happy to get rid of Vanessa, of course.

The younger girl whispered a little, “Yeah,” and layed her back onto the brick walls, trying to get numb with the coldness of them.

Only thing she had planned was confessing her already obvious love and waiting a positive response from Brooke, but she was getting the right opposite.

Normally, she would enjoy being locked into a room by a drunk stranger, only if she would be with Brooke. But this was getting lowkey painful with the time passing by. She needed to spit it out because it was almost turning into a cramp in her brain.

“It’s not working, Brooke.” She said, and made her give up too. “At least let me talk.”

Blondie turned to her with Vanessa’s favorite expression from her. Lips slightly parted, eyes blinking with confusion. It was so Brooke, but also much more different than the one who struts the company corridors with confident steps.

“I-“ Vanessa suddenly forgot what to say, Brooke’s little smile distracting her whole point. “I- Just don’t look at me like that!”

Brooke’s smile had gotten even wider, Vanessa wanted to disappear instead of crushing under that perfection. “Like what?” She said instead stopping, tucking a bunch of long hair behind her ear.

If Vanessa didn’t know her, she would think like it almost sounded flirty, almost.

“Like that!” Vanessa bit her lower lip and turned her gaze away. She was trying to focus on her words, trying to make them polished enough to get Brooke’s attention a little bit, but one side of her was stupidly excited like a teenager, her heart was pounding so fast.

“Do you remember when I first saw you at the company?” She suddenly asked, trying to soften the topic a little bit more.

“Uh-huh,” Brooke said. “A little cookie monster was running through my office. How could I forget?”

Vanessa was remembering that too, as if it was yesterday. Like every other moment they’ve spent with Brooke, even if the other girl mostly seemed like being annoyed by her attitude. She cherished every moment with her and fell in love with every movement of her.

“Yeah? Then you smiled a little, I remember. And damn, I can’t forget that smile since then, Brooke.” She finally spitted it out, her chest getting lighter with the release of the secrets off her body.

“You can’t- what?” Brooke asked unbelievably, but her smile was still keeping her place on that gorgeous face. Which was making Vanessa relax a little bit.

Vanessa moved uncomfortably on her heels and tucked a part of hair escaped off her bun because of the lacking bobby-pins. “I like you, Brooke,” she couldn’t believe she had finally said it, and repeated again, but much more sincerely this time, “I- fuck, I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

The blonde was stuck in her place, wasn’t showing even one sign of liveliness, making Vanessa lowkey worried.

“Detox was right,” Brooke said after a solid silence. But Vanessa wasn’t getting no shit. “About what?” She asked with a confused face, meanwhile torturing her already chipped nail polish.

“She said ‘she likes you too’ and I said bullshit. Well...” She mumbled, and shrugged slightly. A huge grin took over her face right after that, making Vanessa wanna curl up on the floor and cry with joy.

“Holy broken gaydars,” the younger girl whispered, holding onto the wall to not to fall. “I feel so stupid.”

Brooke let out a small laugh and called her out, “Come here,” she motioned. “We need to find a name to our stupid lesbians club.”

When Vanessa pushed herself through her arms, she let out a deep breathe and inhaled blonde’s expensive perfume, almost melting into that.

“Sorry for barking at you earlier,” she said. “I tend to get angry quickly when I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to-“

“Just shut up already!” Vanessa scream whispered, and buried her face into Brooke’s neck. Brooke caressed her hair gently, she felt like it was too good to be true. She needed to look up, and find Brooke’s greens to believe if it was real or not. But she was there for her, all real, almost leaning into a kiss.

She scaled herself up on her tiptoes and closed her eyes, almost dying for their lips to meet.

It was perfect, until they hear the door crack open and Yvie’s rusty voice fills the little room.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”

[littlemisskookie]

Loveless: Chapter 7

Loveless: Index Ship: Reader | OT7 Description: Spy/Men in Black!AU | You worked at an institution that dealt with aliens- aliens that were the fictional creatures we were told were from fairy tales. The job entailed love only for it, and nothing else. That’d all change when a mission goes wrong. Warnings: Comedy, Impregnation Kink, Dirty Talk, Switch??, Dry Humping, Oral, Handjob, Size Kink? we got a big dick in this bitch literally, Creampie Word Count: 4,269

Taehyung didn't know why he was so nervous.

It was just you. Agent Q. He had seen you in your silliest moments, like when you stole a living gnome and tried to convince it to stay in your childhood front yard. He had also seen you in your most serious moments, like when you were killed. That scene still haunted him every night, torturing him with relentless nightmares that had him scared to even fall asleep.

He knew you pretty well.

But why was he so nervous to sleep with you?

Sure, he had perhaps the fattest crush on you ever since you had walked into Namjoon's office- but all of the other guys were so chill with the prospect of sleeping with you. Why was Taehyung like this?

He had approached Jimin shortly after he had won the game, hoping to catch some information. He was closest to Jimin, and the guy knew what you liked before the incident that ensued. Or at least, he was supposed to.

"I don't know what to tell you- it was pretty casual sex. Nothing too... weird, I guess?"

"So she was vanilla?"

"Well, no, not exactly. I mean we did do it on top of her desk during the party, so it was a little bit of an exhibition streak. I kept talking about how someone might catch us, so she should be quiet, though I don't think we succeeded considering the fact we were both a little on the tipsy side."

"So just... Exhibitionism and dirty talk? That doesn't sound so bad," Taehyung murmured aloud.

"Yeah, but that was before. She and Hobi can get a little loud once in a while- and it doesn't help that my room's closest to hers. It's not at all like how it was back with me and her."

"What do you mean? I mean, I have suspicions from what I've heard, but I try to give them privacy. I guess now, though, I'd like to at least be prepared."

"Well, it's not anything I haven't heard of. That sort of dominant submission type stuff, you know? There's still the dirty talk if that helps, but it's pretty rough from the sounds of it. He manhandles and makes commands, real alpha type shit."

"So like 50 Shades?"

"I've yet to hear handcuffs."

"God, I don't think I can fill out that sort of role, to be honest," Taehyung admitted.

"You'll be fine," Jimin assured him. "It's natural for her to sexual habits to change along with her urges. Maybe that's just for Hoseok? And if Hobi can do it, why can't you? If it's really a necessity all of us are going to have to learn how to take command. Poor Hoseok can't catch a wink of sleep."

"I guess you're right. More casual, no role type of sex is my deal, like the type you mentioned earlier."

"Then just tell her. Y/N's understanding, she won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

"What if she just tells me not to bother then?"

"As in you can't have sex with her? I mean, you shouldn't do something you don't want to do, so it'd be under-"

"No! I really want to. Really... I guess I'm just nervous," Taehyung excused.

Jimin studied Taehyung for ar moment. "Well, that's natural. Sex is typically a little more spontaneous unless you two have been going at it for a year or more. I remember me and my old girl would fuck every first Thursday of the month- but back on track. Why don't you just ask Hoseok? I'm sure he'd be more helpful at giving advice."

"Yeah... I should."

"Don't tell me you're scared of him too?"

"I'm not!" Taehyung protested. "I just feel like I'm invading their privacy."

"Well, in a sense it's like a poly relationship, therefore you should know at least a bit of what's going on, even on their end. Communication is key, in all types of relationships."

"Since when were you a sage?"

"Shut up and learn how to put your dick in a woman!"

-

"So, what is it, uh, that Y/N... likes?" he had awkwardly asked, face bright red.

"Since when were you one to ask about another man's sex life, Agent V?" Hoseok chuckled. "I'm just messing with you. No kink-shaming, though."

"She's not into scatting or some shit, is she?"

"What? Oh god no! Nothing like that," Hoseok assured him. "It's mainly dominating. She likes when you're rough with her and take control."

So you got off on being dominated. Taehyung could see that, honestly. Then again, he could see you as both. Would he be able to pull off that role? It was easy seeing Hoseok do it, despite what a big softie he was for you. However, Taehyung was a bit less firm. Hoseok was a specialized assassin, and Taehyung was an engineer. Go figure.

Taehyung wasn't really into dominating girls, though. At least not the domineering, type. Sure, he could take charge, but typically it was what was expected of him in bed. He wasn't a bottom either, at least he didn't think, having dabbled a bit in it. He preferred no roles, he supposed, nothing set in stone. If it was what you wanted, though, he could do it. He just worried he wouldn't be able to satisfy you the same way Hoseok did.

As though sensing his worry, Hoseok placed a hand on Taehyung's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. If you're not the type to do it, you probably won't have to."

"I want to help her, though. Give her what she wants."

"She won't want you to stress over this or do something you're not comfortable with. Besides if you're not into it, you're not into it. She'll know. It's like... How do I explain it?" Hoseok pondered for a bit, wracking his brain. "I had explained this a bit to Namjoon. Before we really even got started she kind of just looked at me for a second, like reading me, you know? Like how a psychic glares at you for a while. She told me exactly what to do even though I was unsure, and it was sort of one of those parts you hide, you know? I wasn't expecting that. It had been a part of me I guess was a base desire, or like hidden? It's hard to explain..."

"So you're the one with the dominating kink? Not her?"

It was Hoseok's turn to blush. "Something like that."

"So what does that mean for me?"

"Well, Y/N gets off more on other people's pleasure and base desires, so if you have any secret kinks or fetishes, they won't stay so hidden for long," Hoseok explained. "She gets off on the other person's enjoyment, I think. Not that she didn't enjoy it, mind you. I think it's more so the person's sexual energy or desires that she feeds off of, rather than the act. Like she doesn't feed on orgasms as much she does the other person's fulfillment. And the best way to fulfill it would be to get to the very root, cut through the bullshit. Even if you don't know what you want, she does."

"So I won't have to be dominating?"

"If it's not your thing, no. I mean, this'll be crass, but what's the kind of stuff you hide on your computer? That you have wet dreams of? That you fantasize about but don't let anyone know? It's that kind of stuff."

"I don't know- I'm pretty neutral on everything."

"I know you're worried about satisfying her and worrying over this, but trust me, let her take care of that. She'll read you like a book, most likely," Hoseok laughed. "Though between you and me, I don't think even two of us will last long. I feel like I'm fresh out of orgasms for another year. Before you know it, you'll be asking her to bring in another one of the guys. I have no doubt it'll be all seven of us, sooner rather than later."

"I'll see how I hold up. I have pretty good stamina."

"Pretty good isn't going to last four times a day. Just save up your energy," Hoseok told him. "I'll take care of her tonight, and then she's all yours in the morning. If you ever need a break though, I'm here. If not one of the other guys would be happy to help."

"Thanks, A. I'll keep that in mind," Taehyung nodded.

-

"You know, I would've figured they'd bug the rooms as well."

The two of you were watching some show about people who were engaged to foreigners for 90 days in order to help them get into the country. Taehyung had been fidgeting around on the bed next to you for the past half hour while you roll your eyes at people on screen.

Truth be told he had expected you to jump him any moment now, knowing that you should be starving at this point, having only had sex with Hoseok that morning. However, you had held back, and now he was just ridden with anxiety wondering when and if it would happen.

"I mean, if the person closes the door on you, shouldn't there be some sort of contract to let you hear inside? Or anything? The people are still wearing their mics, right?"

Both Hoseok and Jimin had suggested to Taehyung that he talk to you. It's now or never.

"Hey, um, Y/N..."

You turn to Taehyung. "Yeah, Tae?"

His throat went dry as he fumbled over his words. "Why'd you join the CIA?"

"Oh?" You lowered the volume on the TV, as though needing a bit more quiet to think. "Well, ever since I was little I wanted to be something really special, you know? I wanted to be the kind of girl you thought was so cool and so awesome, like the ones with big racks and big guns in movies. I trained and trained, despite the fact my parents wanted me to go into premed, but by high school, my mind was made up. Some people thought it was a waste that I was going into something that seemed, in their eyes, to focus more on brawn than brain. Others thought I was a wannabe. Truth be told that was closest to it. I really just wanted to be more than I was.

"So I first trained to be just that, working out and learning five languages from apparent enemy countries. Before I knew it I was a part of the FBI, faked my age and a thing or two and entered it when I was a teenager. Once they figured out their mistake they recruited me for the CIA for more spy-related stuff, seeing how well I had masked my true age at one of the top facilities. I ended up training under a woman who was nicknamed Elliot- and became something of a prodigy and apprentice. Before long I was in charge of the department, seeing as she died and I was the best fitting. The field I specialized in under her was the disguise one. I think I trained a hundred agents on perfecting an accent and cover story, quick changes, and more.

"Before long, though, I realized I was still dissatisfied. I faked a British identity and ended up in M15, but that was a bust as well. Seeing me flit and fit into all of these agencies, however, did have one benefit. I caught the attention of the EAA, and the moment I heard about aliens and whatnot, I was in. I felt fulfilled, I felt as though I found my purpose, I felt bigger than I was.

"In a sense, I think I'm still trying to chase that feeling, though."

"You've accomplished your goal, though, didn't you?"

"I did," you muse. "But perhaps it wasn't the right one. Maybe it isn't always climbing to the top that makes you feel fulfilled, because once you're there, you just think, 'What now?'"

"It's like that scene in Tangled where Flynn Ryder tells Rapunzel that she was his new dream."

You laugh aloud at that. "Yeah! That's it. Don't know what dream I can have. So many options are limited because of my involvement with the EAA."

"I can see that. It limits more than it gives when it comes to opportunities," Taehyung admits. "Do you regret it?"

"No. I wouldn't have met you guys. All of you mean a lot to me- I couldn't imagine a life without you." You glance his way, turning to face him. "What about you?"

"I mean, I joined because most of the stuff I made was illegal and wanted by all agencies imaginable. I wanted to continue to create, but at that rate, I'd be wanted by every country imaginable, and if I chose a side I'd be a helping hand in a possible war. People go crazy with wars like these. So I picked something that really didn't have to deal with sides- I chose to help and fight aliens. It seemed like the best alternative."

"I can see that- and it definitely does seem like it was the best option. It would've been a waste to bury a talent like that," you admit. "Do you regret joining?"

"No, of course not. Same as you. I couldn't imagine a life without you guys- you especially."

You smile, your heart warmed at that statement. "Do you ever think about how we would've met? What our life would've been like if we hadn't met through the agency? Been different people?"

"Of course I do. I thought that when I first met you."

"You mean when you had a crush on me?"

Taehyung's ears turned red at that, and he looks away, unable to meet your eyes shockingly enough. "Something like that."

"So?"

"So what?"

"What did you imagine our life together would've been like?" you question. "Back when you had a crush on me."

"It was really stupid, honestly. You don't want to hear it."

"No, I do. I really, really do. Please."

Taehyung takes a deep breath, settling into the pillows as he stares into the ceiling, conjuring the image into his head. "It was just a little fantasy, honestly. Like you said if we were different people. It was fun to imagine, though. I thought I'd be some engineering major, and you'd be in fashion-"

"I'd be in fashion?" Your brows raise comically.

"Yeah. Your disguises and style outside of the typical suit and tie- I always admired them. I used to read magazines in the lockerroom back in middle school, and the others would think I'm gay. I just really like it, and you have an eye for it."

You beam at the compliment. "Thank you. Continue."

"Complimenting you or telling the story?"

You shove him lightly, laughing. "The story. We're in college, then what?"

"I guess we'd both share a class- I don't know, maybe English or Math or Psychology. And maybe we'd sit together or run into each other or even meet at some frat party. And I'd know you were the one, y'know? My dad always says the moment he saw my mom he knew she was the one. In this world, you and I would do the traditional stuff, go on a few dates, become official. Eventually, we'd move in together and I'd find some way to propose to you without you finding out beforehand. And I guess we'd get married and have kids."

"You imagined us with kids?"

"A few. I'm a big sucker for kids. I always wanted them. I guess it's sort of one of the many things you've got to give up for the agency, though, isn't it? Some dreams you've got to pick over the other."

You stared at him for a while, narrowing your brows. Your voice quiets, lowering. "Did you ever think about me pregnant, Tae?"

Taehyung looks to you in alarm. "What?"

"You know, all round, your baby inside me-" You sit up, looking down at him as you cup your breasts. "-with these tits full of milk?"

"Fuck..." Taehyung didn't know what it was about the image you had conjured in his head, but he felt his dick automatically twitch in his pants.

You grinned, victorious, slowly straddling him. "Would you still think I was pretty, even when I was pregnant with your baby?"

"Y/N, what're you saying?"

"C'mon, Tae. Don't you like the thought of me being bred by you? Big and pregnant to let everyone know I was yours?"

Taehyung's semi was slowly beginning to harden, and you twisted your hips, grinding against him. His eyes roll back in his head, his hands automatically coming up to reach for your hips. "Fucking shit-"

"Tell me, Agent V. Do you like the thought of cumming so deep in my womb you breed me? The thought of me being the one to carry and bear your child?"

"Fuck, yes, that's so hot." Taehyung couldn't help but buck his hips against you as you continued to dry hump him, your hands finding purchase of his shirt as you raked your nails down his chest. "W-Wanna breed you."

"What was that?"

"Fuck, I want to cum inside you," Taehyung groaned, eyes rolling back. "Wanna let everyone know how well I fucked my baby into you."

"Oh? You want to fuck me?" You smiled sweetly, reaching for your shirt as you pulled it over your head. "Want to get me nice and pregnant? Want to fill these tits with milk?"

"Please let me," Taehyung begged.

"How can I say no to that?"

Taehyung knew it was ridiculous. You were incapable of getting pregnant- agency policies. But it was fun to pretend, fun to roleplay that you were two lovers about to make a baby together. At that moment Taehyung completely forgot the truth, instead focused on the premise of getting to cum so deep inside of you that you'd get knocked up.

You pressed more firmly against him, your chest now against his as you pressed your lips to his. His lips were softer than Hoseok's, less fierce and a bit more gentle, but nonetheless passionate. You devoured every moan he made as he wrapped his arms around you, tight and secure, enveloping you into his warmth.

You were surprised when you felt your bra begin to fall, Taehyung having undone the clasp in the back with easy precision. You sit up a bit, letting the bra slide down your arms. Grabbing Taehyung's hands, you let them cup your breasts, looking at him with sultry eyes as he proceeds to cop a feel.

"Fuck, they're perfect. You're perfect," Taehyung says, his thumbs rolling over the hardened nipples.

"Really? I think they'd look better if they were bigger. Full with milk, don't you think?" You grind down harder on his erection when you feel it twitch beneath you.

"You're gonna make me cum in my pants if you continue to do that," Taehyung groans.

"We can't have that, can we?" you snicker. "Gotta save every last drop for my greedy pussy, isn't that right? Gotta knock me up, get me nice and pregnant with your child."

Taehyung let out another groan, tossing his head back as he squeezes your breasts tighter, gritting his teeth. "Fuck, baby."

You pull back a bit, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to let his erection spring free. It's bigger than you expected, far longer and girthier than most men you slept with. You wrapped your hand around it, going up and down, observing his reaction.

"You're so big, Tae.  I don't know how I'd fit all of this inside me, much less a baby," you praised, admiring how small your hand looked in comparison. "You won't have any problem getting deep inside me, would you? Getting so deep I could feel you in my womb? A big load to get me all knocked up?"

"All for you. I'll make sure you'll still feel me inside you for days."

"Fill me up, Taehyung. Fill me to the brink with your cum. Let everyone know you're the one who fucked a baby into me."

"Fucking shit- get your pants off," he growls, flipping you over unexpectedly. You're taken by surprise when he hastily takes your pants off, panties and all, and pries your legs apart.

"Fuck me," you say, spreading your legs wider as though to invite him in.

"Gotta get you ready first, baby. Gotta make sure you're nice and wet so I can put a baby in you, so you can properly take my seed." He begins to descend down your body, lying flat on his stomach as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders. He licks his lips, now face to face with your heat. "Gotta taste you. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to eat you out."

"No, no, I need you in- ohh fuck!" You let out a moan as he licks a stripe up your heat, lapping at the folds before giving harsh sucks to your clit.

Taehyung takes your moan as a sign of approval, continuing his ministrations as he grips your thighs more firmly, determined to keep you in place. He's sloppy about it, from how he devours at the source, tongue searching for every sweet drop you had to offer, to how he'd gently nip his way up to your clit, sucking tenderly in a way that had you moan unabashedly.

"Fuck, oh my g-god, Taehyung," you whimper, thighs squeezing around his head and fingers tangled in his hair as he continues to french kiss your cunt.

Taehyung pops up for a moment, a lewd pop as he comes up for air. The visual of his lower face covered thoroughly in your sheen is enough to make you melt. "That's right, say my name," he rasps, not wasting another moment before devouring you again, like a starved man determined to not let a scrap of food go to waste.

"Taehyung, Tae," you moan, your climax quickly approaching. "Tae, Tae, Tae!"

You feel it wash over you before you know it, powerful enough to make you scream the mantra of his name with tears flowing down your cheeks. "Need you inside me! Now, please!" You beg as though you're deprived, and Taehyung wastes no further time to come up and align himself.

He pushes into you, the slickness of your walls making the slide easy, no friction necessary. He pumps into you as you hold him close, still crying as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm, loving the blissful feeling of being filled.

Taehyung, meanwhile, is in ecstasy. He couldn't count all of the times he's dreamt of this moment, and it was far better than he could've imagined. Everything about you was heaven, right down to the taste and touch. If he were to die right now, between your legs, he'd die a happy man.

"Fuck, Taehyung," you groan, choking out praises between your sobs. "S-So deep. So deep inside me, Tae."

"Gotta cum deep in your womb, baby. Gotta get you nice and pregnant, isn't that right?"

"Gotta knock me u-up?" you question, your breathing heavy.

"Fuck, yeah, gonna get you all fat and pregnant, and the moment you pop out my kid, I'll just get you pregnant all over again," Taehyung says, feeling his balls tighten at the image in his head. "You'll spend the rest of your life being full with either my cock or my kid."

"F-Feel so full already," you say, voice strained as you concentrate on the feeling of him impossibly deep. "You're so big already, I don't think I'd be able to carry a baby."

"You can and you will, sweetheart. You'll be able to handle it," Taehyung promises. "Gonna cum on this fat cock? Are you?"

"Yes!"

"Gonna cream in the fat cock that's gonna put a baby in you?"

"Yes, Taehyung, I- fffffuckk!" You feel yourself come undone as he presses his pelvis harder against yours, adding enough friction for you to unravel.

"Fuck, you're even tighter when you cum," Taehyung praised, now searching for his own high as he ruthlessly pounded into you. "So tight, milking me for- shit!"

He pressed as hard against you as he could, gripping your thighs firmly to keep you as close to him as possible, as though interlocked. You could feel the cum filling you to the brim, deep inside your womb, almost as though he were in your guts.

You dug your heels into his back, keeping him in place until you had successfully milked every last drop he had to offer. Once the two of you were sure he finished, he pulled out his softening cock, admiring his work as he spreads your lips apart, already seeing some of it dribble down your asscheeks and onto the bedsheets.

"You look so good filled with my cum," Taehyung says in a breathy sigh. His eyes look up to yours, but he's immediately startled.

You look up at him, confused by his reaction. "What is it?" you ask.

"Y/N... Your... your eyes!"

"What? What're you going on about?" Nevertheless, you get up, heading to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing.

Sure enough, your eyes had changed. It looked as though tiny dots were orbiting your iris, almost like planets. You had tiny universes stuck in your eyes.

But worse than that, you had her eyes.

[thatonefromyourdreams]

Muse 3: “Mil tormentas” (A thousand storms)

Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: Y/N and Wanda had been best friends since  High school. Between pyjama parties and uncountable time together Y/N fell in love with Wanda, but love is difficult and it is even more when you live in a place where everything is either black or white. Love can heal but it can also destroy.

A/N:Every chapter is going to be based on Morat’s albums, feel free to check out their amazing music.

Tags: @leylanesobsessions​​ @buckyohh​​ @never-stopp-growing​​ @toniilaney​​​ @5aftermidnight​​ @genesisnievesr​​ @romanova-maximoff-danvers​​ @terror-triplet​​  @autumnjackson4​ @marvel-wlw​

Warnings: Mild smut, sadness, bad English?

Pude sobrevivir a un mar sin viento. Pues supe conquistar tu piel y encontré un segundo aliento.

I was able to survive a windless sea. Cause I knew how to conquer your skin. And I found a second breath.

--

“I used to believe love was utter bullshit,” You said as you laid on your therapist’s couch, it was rtcliché in every way. You laying on Dr. Rodhey’s couch as if it was from a cheap hollywood movie.

“What has changed?” He asked, you weren’t looking at him. YOu had your eyes closed while your mind roamed on Wanda’s memories.

“I met someone,” You said quietly

“Are we talking about Wanda?” He asked again

You nodded ashamed

“Have you tried looking for a distraction?” He asked but it seemed more like a suggestion  

“I have, if by distraction you mean dating more people?” You answered

“How did that work for you?”

“It worked while it lasted, then when they left all the darkness came back.” You explained “And she came back to my mind. I don’t think having this crush on her is healthy for me.” You sighed

“I don’t think that what you have is just a crush.” He said carefully, “You know, when people have been deprived of love during most of their life, insignificant shows of affect can make them obsess over someone.”

“Are you implying that my parents didn’t love me?” You asked confused

“Or that you didn’t have a romantic life during your teenage years.” He added

“I didn’t, but I had Nat, why I’m not obsessing over her?”

“Because she is like a sister to you, that kind of love wasn’t missing from your life. But Wanda on the other hand, appeared when you were discovering what you liked and she fitted in the concept of love you had. That is why you fell in love with her.” It didn’t make any sense.

“She was there while Natasha was constantly dating other people.” He started “I’m speaking from what you’ve told me, Wanda was an outcast like you, but you had a little bit of more popularity so she needed you.”

You nodded.

“Maybe your brain misinterpreted that need with love?” He inquired

Maybe you can go and fuck yourself.

“Maybe.” You offered tight smile

“Our time for today has finished,” He said closing his folder and standing up.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” You said walking to the door

 “Of course,” was all he said as you left the office

Fucking douchebag

-------------

It was finally friday night, after a long, long, long week you had finally be able to take a break. You were now lying on one of the couches in the living room, with a glass of wine and a bag of chips watching Lucifer for the fiftieth time.

“Tom Ellis is just so fine,” Gamora whined

“I feel you sister,” You responded

Nebula, Gamora, Darcy, Sif and Valkyrie were scattered around the living room, Lucifer was playing and everyone was, in some way, watching it.

“You guys are disgusting,” Valkyrie said making a disgusted face while looking at Sif and Darcy making out.

“You should get a fucking room!” Nebula faked gagged

“Oh, we will do that for sure,” Darcy winked at both girls

“Ew,” Nebula said before laughing

“I’m a lonely lesbian,” Valkiyrie whined

“Same, but not a lesbian.” You said pouring more wine in your glass

“We should do shots.” Gamora offered, the last time you had been drunk was the day you made out with Wanda and the sole thought of her under you in underwear made you wet.

“Can I join?” Wanda’s voice sounded as she entered the living room

It was an involuntary movement but as soon as you heard her you stood up, she smiled sweetly at you while she walked to your side on the couch.

Everyone knew, they just knew how smitten you were by her.

You sat and she sat next you, cuddling to your side. You swore that everyone in the room could hear the loud noises your heart was making.  

“How was your day?” She asked quietly as if you were sharing a secret.

“It was okay,” You smiled looking down at her, Sif elbowed Darcy to glance at you. She did and her heart warmed at the way you were looking at Wanda. They understood how you felt. Darcy understood better, she was in your shoes not long ago.

Sif was in a relationship with her high school boyfriend, Fandral, but all she did was cry. All day, all night. Darcy was always with her, they  had never been in a same sex relationship before so it was all new for them when they understood they loved each other.

“Remember when we were like that?” Sif whispered to Darcy, she simply nodded.

“I’m so grateful we’re not on that painful stage anymore,” Darcy answered kissing Sif’s temple, she was truly everything to her and their parents had been surprisingly open to the relationship. Something Y/N didn’t have. They knew how her parents were. Extremely good people but very close minded. She was going to go through a hard time if things with Wanda eventually worked out.

“How was yours?” You asked playing with her hair without actually thinking about it

“It was nice, classes were boring, job was okay and Vis took me to this place downtown where they sold this very tasty grilled cheese sandwiches, I bet you would’ve loved them.” She smiled looking up at you.

Your stomach twisted at the mention of Vision. She was in a committed relationship, she wasn’t yours, she was never going to be yours and that reality hurt more than anything.

Me hiciste un favor, me devolviste el miedo… Por fin tengo algo que perder si te vas y yo me quedo.

You did me a favor, you gave me back my fear…I finally have something to lose if you leave and I stay back.

“You know me too well,” You tried not to sound sad, but her presence gave you an ambivalent feeling of sadness and happiness at the same time. She was the reason of both of those contradictory feelings.

“Are you gonna head out today?” She asked bringing you back from your sad thoughts

 “Nat and the guys are waiting for me at Drax’s at 9,” You answered, she didn’t answer but there was a change in her mood. “You?” You asked her

 “Vis and I were going to go to the theater tonight but he didn’t finish his project for tomorrow so he is going to pull an all-nighter to finish it.” She sighed

 “Want to join us?” You said without thinking. Nat wasn’t very fond to Wanda, she knew how much your crush with her made you suffer and the guys weren’t too far behind.

 “I don’t think so but thank you Y/N” She accommodated her head on your chest, a shot of joy went through your veins

It was barely 6:30, you had plenty of time to get ready and enjoy the presence of Wanda in your arms.

What life could be if fate was kind enough to let you stay like this forever, you, her and a bunch of animals in a farm in the middle of nowhere. Maybe a kid or two with her beautiful eyes and her intelligence. She would look so beautiful while carrying your child, you would buy her any food she craved and treat her like a princess. You would cuddle every afternoon after work and talk about your day, maybe watch a movie or the sunset from the porch. Maybe you would cook pasta or a homemade pizza and pour two glasses of wine while getting drunk in each other presence.

  “You are zoning out,” She giggled

“I’m sorry,” You smiled at the sound of that beautiful sound.

“What were you thinking about?” She asked

You, us, life, the impossible.

“Work, and all the things I have to do before christmas break,” You sighed, christmas was just 6 weeks away and the thought of going home to your family made you feel uneasy. They loved questioning your love life. After your last relationship you had never brought anyone again to your house. That was almost 4 years ago.

“It’s 2 months away, you shouldn’t worry too much,” Her smile was your favorite thing in the world. It could calm any storm inside you.

She raised her hand to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. That tiny action made your heart flutter.

“You’re so beautiful,” You whispered forgetting there were four other people in the room.

Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of rose.

“I’m sorry,” You stuttered as you stood from the couch “I’m gonna go change.”

“What just happened?” Wanda looked at Nebula who was as shook as the other three girls watching the exchange.

 --

 “And then I just creeply  said ‘You’re so beautiful!’ what the fuck is wrong with me?!” You whined as you re told the story t Nat and Steve.

Nat was smirking knowing this was a hundred percent something you would say

“That was sweet,” Steve said trying not to laugh

“It was stupid!” You banged your head on the table

“Look at that,” Nat pointed to the entrance of the bar, you turned to look at the direction she pointed. Carol Danvers.

“Is that…?” You started as Nat nodded. Carol fucking Danvers. Your first girl experience, she had confirmed your sexual orientation on your freshman year of college. But sadly she moved away the next year. She was here again. “A distraction,”  Rhodey’s voice echoed in your head.

“She looks even prettier,” Nat pointed. That was true, she had short hair now and boy she looked gorgeous.

“Y/N” She said as she came closer to your table

“Carol,” You side smiled at her

“You haven’t changed a bit,” She shook her head “Romanoff, captain.” She referred at Steve as the captain of the football team.

“Danvers,” Nat smiled as Steve waved.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked gulping the rest of your beer

“I thought you’d never ask.” Carol said biting her bottom lip trying to suppress a smile

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” You sad to Nat and Steve

“Is that Carol Danvers and Y/N?” Bucky asked as he sat on one of the chairs

“My baby girl is killing the game!” Sam shouted

“I want to see how that one goes,” Steve sighed

 ----

 “That was…” You panted as Carol spooned you

“A very nice welcome back gift,” She giggled, you couldn’t stop the comparing thought that hit you when you remembered Wanda’s giggle. She sounded nothing like her.

“I don’t know whose present was it,” You laughed “You made me cum 4 times, I can’t feel my legs.”

Carol laughed

“You’re welcome,” She kissed your hair “And thank you, but you owe me an orgasm you only gave me 3.”

“As soon as I can feel my legs again we are even,” You turned around to see her face

“I missed you,” She whispered. She was pretty, her big brown eyes reminded you of coffee in the morning, so helpful, so necessary, so warm.

“I missed you too,” You lied. You didn’t have the time to miss her, Wanda took most of your thoughts and time.

“Liar,” she kissed your nose “How is Wanda?”

“She’s good,” You said awkwardly

 “Are you still in love with her?” She continued

 “No,”

 “Liar,” She laughed “It’s okay Y/N”

 “No is not,” Your voice broke  “I can’t keep postponing my life because I’m still hoping she is going to love me back someday.”

 “Shh,” She dried your tears with her thumb.

 “I’m hopeless,” You sighed

 “Aren’t we all?” She said sweetly “Now, I’m going to give you a fifth orgasm so you feel better,” She said as she dove back between your legs

 “Carol… oh, oooh right there.” You moaned as her tongue cut your sentence.

 Now you were 2 orgasms behind.

 ---

 “Call me when you get settled,” You smiled at her, you were waving her goodbye from the door.

 “Is that Carol Danvers?” Valkyrie asked “Damn that girl is fine!”

 “That she is,” You blushed

 “You lucky bitch,” She laughed “I need details.”

 You smirked at her

 “Later,” You turned to see Wanda pouring coffee into her unicorn mug. God she was cute in the mornings.

 “Carol Danvers came back?” She asked surprised, still half sleep

 You nodded.

 “She’s so sweet, I like her.” She smiled at you

 “I’m gonna go take a shower,” You announced.

 “Someone’s jelly,” Valkyrie whispered to you, you shrugged walking to your bedroom.

 ---

 Someone knocked at your door when you just finished changing. You had a white tee on and black pants. It was Saturday afternoon and you were dying to sip on any kind of alcohol you had near, luckily there was still margarita mix in the fridge.

 You opened your door and Wanda was standing on the other side

 “Hey Wand…” Your greeting was cut short by her lips crashing into yours, she closed the door with her foot and proceeded to attack your lips, your were so shocked by the actions that you didn’t have time to react. She pulled back.

 “I’m sorry,” She said as she stepped back

 No you’re not

 You pulled her to you and kissed with everything you had, wrapping your arms around her waist. Her arms found her way to your neck and she moaned, you took the chance to slide your tongue in her mouth, another moan ripped from the back of her throat.

 You weren’t sure if you needed air or if you needed more of her. Carefully you picked her up and moved to the bed, placing her delicately on top of it, never breaking the kiss.

 “Wait,” She moaned while you kept kissing her, you stopped abruptly.

 “Yes?” You asked out of breath

 “Are you dating Carol?” She asked

 “I don’t know,” was all you could answer

 “Okay,” She said pulling you back to her body and reconnecting your lips.

 You were out of this world, this was finally happening, your hands wandered from her waist to her breasts. She was perfect in every way possible. You detached your lips from hers and lifted her shirt to reveal her braless breasts, you wasted no time attaching your lips to her left nipple. She let out a long moan, her hands coming to your head as your tongue played with the swollen nub.

 Was it possible to orgasm by just feeling Y/N playing with your breasts? Wanda thought as she felt the familiar knot in her stomach. In her almost 4 years with Vis she remembered cumming just when he was inside her and it didn’t even felt half as good as your mouth on her nipple.

 “Oh, fu… fuck!” She moaned cumming in her pants

 “Did you just-?” You asked surprised, Wanda blushed crimson

 “I’m sorry…” She apologised

 “Don’t you dare to apologise for coming” You said sternly, “I’m just surprised you came by me just licking your nipple,”

 “It felt amazing,” She sighed

 “I bet,” You smiled “Umm, do you want to…?” You tried, but it felt very awkward

 “Sure,” She encouraged you, she unbuttoned her jeans and you came to kiss her again, this felt so right and so wrong at the same time.

 Her phone went off

 “I have to answer this,” She moaned between kisses, your hand lost inside her panties

 “Okay,” You said without stopping, your index finger circling her clit

 “I really need to answer that phone call,” A loud moan cut her off, your finger was now inside her pumping slowly.

 “Then answer,” You said kissing her neck as your hand drove her to her second orgarsm

 “Don’t stop…” Her voice filled with desire, you speeded your ministrations and in no time she was convulsing under you.

 “Come for me baby girl, come on my fingers.” She moaned at your words

 “WAN!” Nebula’s voice came from your door “VISION IS HERE, HE’S ASKING FOR YOU”

 “Shit, we had a family event!” She said standing from your bed “I-I have to go!”

 She fixed her clothes and ran out of your bedroom, leaving you both horny and confused.

 What the hell just happened?

 No se puede apagar amor con fuego, te quieres desatar de mí pero hiciste un nudo ciego

Te voy a rogar, y yo nunca ruego  Acepto ser el perdedor porque sé que no es un juego.

You can not put out love with fire you want to untie yourself from me but you made a blind knot

[hamilton-one-shots]

What if you did a fic with 2p! Hamsquad? :00 I'd die for that - Stump Anon 🌳

(I’ve been in love with this idea since I first saw it, tbh

Edited by: @dflwrites

For those who don’t know: 2p! characters are essentially polar opposites of the original character, an idea started in the Hetalia fandom, and, typically, they are murderous or at least can be drawn to it more easily than most. Having said that: 

TW: Domestic abuse, graphic violence, child predators, murder, derogatory language, use of the f word

Also, yes, Hetalia fans, two of these are really close to two Hetalia 2p characters. I tried not to, but they fit so well.)

John sighed and scrolled through his cellphone mindlessly as he waited for his friends to join him at the bar. He’d already had an entire soda waiting for them. He knew that it wasn’t good to have so much sugar, but it had been a whole hour!

As he scrolled, a message popped up from his friend Alexander.

[Lexi :): Hey, sorry, but we’re going to be late.]

John pouted and responded.

[That’s fine! I’ll see you guys when you get here :)]

He sighed and messaged his boyfriend, Hercules, asking if he was joining him, at least. While he waited for a response, he noticed a man messing with the bartender and moved closer to see what the trouble was.

“I already told you, James, it’s over.. Just leave me alone,” she groaned.

The man reached over the bar and grabbed her arm roughly. “Do you honestly think you have a better alternative? We both know you’re leaving here with some loser for whatever he offers you. You might as well go home with me for free.”

“Let me go!”

John looked around to see if anyone was going to help, but they were just a bunch of drunk men, trying to encourage her to just agree to whatever the jerk was saying and to make their drinks. John found it sickening�� He took a deep breath before walking over, tapping the man on his shoulder. “Excuse me sir…”

The man rolled his eyes and looked down at the other, scoffing at his pastel blue sweater. “Stay out of this, fag.”

John was hardly fazed. After all, he’d heard much worse and he had to focus on helping the poor woman. “You should leave her alone. I don’t think she wants to be touched and it’s not good for you to force her into anything.”

“Fuck off,” the strange man growled, John catching the strong scent of alcohol on his breath. It was vile.. But useful.

He backed away and moved to another bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. He took them back to where he’d been sitting before, adding something special to them both, and waited.

Once the man backed away from the girl, John took his chance, walking over with the two shots.

“I’m sorry for earlier… I shouldn’t have interfered. A man has to do what a man has to do,” he shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “What do you say we just down a shot and forget about what happened?”

The other hardly thought before taking the shot that John was offering.

It was important that John fixed both. Some took the one he offered, some took the one he kept toward himself.

John smiled and down the shot at the same time as the man, filtering the disgusting drink through his teeth and reluctantly swallowing it, feeling the capsule that he’d added stopping at his front teeth. He put down the glass and began to walk off, but was stopped by the same man.

“Don’t be a pussy. Take another shot with me.”

“Oh, um… I don’t drink much.. It was just a friendly offer,” John explained, pushing the capsule under his tongue.

“Just one and I’ll leave the bitch alone for a while.”

John winced at his harsh words, but if it got him to leave her alone… All he really needed was a few minutes, but the more time she went without him, the better. So, he agreed and downed another shot, slowly starting to feel its effects.

“You know what? For a little fag, you’re alright,” the man said, clapping his hand hard against John’s back.

John laughed uncomfortably and left to the bathroom, spitting out the capsule and emptying his stomach, just for good measure. It may not dissolve in anything weaker than stomach acid, but stomach acid was something that the drinks had already hit and, oh, how he hated getting drunk. He didn’t like how he acted so wild, so out of control.

Once he was done, he flushed his mess away and walked out, ignoring the screaming crowd that surrounded the corpse on the floor and shooting the pretty bartender a smile, asking for a glass of water.

Hercules dragged himself off of the couch and out of the door in sweats. He was just going drinking, so what was the point in throwing on “real pants” as John called them. He walked down the streets and was about halfway to the bar when he passed a playground. He instinctively turned to look - he had a secret soft spot for kids. Well, and for puppies, but kids don’t make John cry from fear. Anyways, he saw this teenager with a full backpack and a man talking to her. She was clearly uncomfortable, leaning away and taking a few steps back, but he was persistent, moving closer with each step away she took.

Hercules glared and made his way over, pushing the man away from her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What? I’m just offering her a place to stay. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same,” the man grinned. “She’s beautiful. She should find somewhere to stay before some creep snatches her up.” He tried to move past Hercules, but was stopped as he grabbed his shirt collar, tossing him to the ground.

Hercules turned towards the girl. “How old are you?” he asked softly, his demeanor completely changing.

“Twelve… My mom says I can’t go back because I said I’m a boy..”

“That’s awful..” His grip tightened on the man’s collar as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone and headphones. “Here, listen to some music as loud as you can and keep your eyes closed, okay? I’m going to punish him for what he tried to do, then I’ll get you some help, okay?”

He nodded and did what Hercules did, shutting his eyes tight and listening to loud music.

Once it was loud enough for Hercules to hear it, he turned back towards the man, a dark gleam in his eye as he shoved him onto the ground.

“You think it’s fine to pray on children?” he asked, his tone calm as he sent his foot flying into the creep’s spine, making him shout out in pain.

“Hey! Don’t fucking scream. You scream and I swear to god, you won’t be getting away from this alive,” he threatened.

It was that simple. The false promise of life always made them shut up.

Hercules knelt down. “I bet you’ve done this before, haven’t you, you sick fuck?” Out came his pocket knife and in it went to the creep’s right lung. Next, of course, it struck lower, definitely giving the creep the castration he deserved. Those muffled screams were music to his ears, the sound of justice that he knew would never be served otherwise.

“This is what you do to those who you’ve hurt, I hope you know that,” he continued, his voice as calm as ever. “You think it’s cool, you get off on hurting these kids, but it lasts,” he hissed. “People tell them it’s their fault, that they shouldn’t have trusted a man like you. I’m here to show you that your bullshit won’t go without consequences.” He got his knife back. He’d done enough to seal his fate.

Hercules wiped his hands on the creep’s clothes and stood up, tapping the kid’s shoulder and turning them away. “Hey, I’m going to go wash my hands, then I can take you to my place, if you want. Just to give you a place to crash.”

“Did you kill him?..” he asked, hesitantly.

Hercules shook his head. “I just hurt him pretty badly..” It wasn’t technically a lie. “I know his type. He wouldn’t have stopped hurting kids like you if I just let him go. And, don’t worry, I never hurt kids,” he reassured.

The kid hesitated before nodding, deciding to trust Hercules. “I don’t want to go home..”

“And I won’t make you. You can crash with me and my friends as long as you want.”

“Okay…”

Hercules smiled before standing up straight again, going to the bathroom and cleaning up his knife as well as his hands, then taking the kid back to his place, where he knew he’d be safe.

Lafayette stayed outside of the bar as Alexander went with John, just feeling like having a cigarette in the quiet before dealing with all of those people. He stood in the alley and lit his cigarette, smoking in peace until this asshole approached him.

“Hey, honey, what’ll it cost for you to let me smash?”

Lafayette scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please.. You are not worth my time.”

“Alright, what about for a good suck? It’d be a better use for that pretty little mouth.”

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

The weirdo smacked the cigarette from Lafayette’s hands. “Why don’t you get off your high horse?”

That was it. Lafayette grabbed the guy’s shirt and turned him, slamming his back against the wall and spitting in his face. “I recommend you get out of my damn face before you regret it. I can make you wish you were never born. I’ll make you wish you were dead, that you’d never made the mistake of calling me some whore.”

The guy was definitely intimidated. Lafayette looked like he could crush his skull if he wanted to. “Fine, just let me go.”

“Let you go?! Where was the letting me go before you smacked my cigarette out of my hand? Don’t you know better than to touch a smoker’s cigarette?”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Shut the hell up and look me in the eye.”

There was a split second of hesitation, but the guy did just that.

“When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were never-”

Lafayette was cut off by the blast of a handgun going off, a bullet going straight through the stranger’s brain. Lafayette groaned as he was coated in blood and glared down the alley, not surprised to see his boyfriend, Alexander, standing there, John standing beside him with his hands over his eyes.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Lafayette demanded, throwing the corpse onto the floor.

Alexander shrugged.

Lafayette tutted. “Well, you got blood all over me. Now I actually have to shower,” he grumbled before walking over to them.

“Um… The cops are coming… We have to go home,” John said meekly.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “You could’ve started with that.” He pulled off his dirtied hoodie and tossed it into John’s arms. “Happy?” John always bugged him about how long he wore his clothes, but what was the point in washing them if he was just going to wear them again? What was the point in getting new clothes when his own fit him just fine.

John was smart enough not to respond. They may have been friends, but Lafayette wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him, badly. He even called him chubby once. But this wasn’t the time to cry. It was time to go home.

As they began walking, Lafayette followed John in his tank top, his arm around Alexander and his hand resting on his boyfriend’s ass. “Next time, at least give me a warning. It’s not the same as when I inject them, but it is nice to see the light leaving their stupid eyes.”

“Sure.” Alexander didn’t really get it. Lafayette’s way of killing involved too much work. Why would they do that when a gun could do it in half the time? But he didn’t feel like saying it out loud. It wasn’t his place.

“I hope Hercules won’t be too upset that we have to go home…” John commented. “I’m sure he got out of bed and everything.”

“Oh, grow a pair,” Lafayette snapped at him. “I don’t know why you have to cry over everything. You’re such a pussy. Alexander never says anything, but at least he doesn’t cry.” If there was anything that he truly hates, it was men who couldn’t keep in their own feelings, like everyone else.

John felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “Such a wimp.”

Alexander shrugged. John should be able to do what he pleased, right? But it wasn’t up to him to tell Lafayette what to do either.

Besides John’s crying, the rest of the walk home was quiet, none of them expecting the surprise that Hercules had in store.

[thesunglassesgamer]

The Talk, part 11

Shit, I uploaded this a while back on Fanfiction. Shit. Sorry. Parallel to the last chapter. Working on characters and such.

“Uh, mom?”

No response.

“Hey, mom!”

Star didn’t look up. When she and Elizabeth had first gotten to Star’s room, they had tried to find Glossaryck so they could ask more questions. However, after ten minutes of looking in his tower and then through the drawers, piles of dirty clothes, magical creatures, and even Star’s secrets closet, they could find neither Glossaryck nor the book of spells. Star groaned in frustration and let herself fall unto her bed face forward (still groaning through the sheets) as Elizabeth leaned her back against the wall and slide down till her butt plopped unceremoniously onto the ground. Part of Elizabeth’s brown hair had fallen over her face as she slid, and she brushed it off irritably.

“I don’t get it,” she exhaled from frustration. “Where could he have gone? Why would he disappear right after we saved his sorry a- butt?” Her cheeks flushed, but Star didn’t seem to notice.

“Glossaryck pulls this crap all the time,” She replied, lifting her head only high enough so her explanation wasn’t muffled. “He’ll probably appear out of nowhere randomly and say that he was testing me or something.”

“That’s… probably true. Damn.” Bitter resignation replaced Elizabeth’s anger and she ended up gazing blankly at one of Star’s creatures while thinking back to her experiences with Glossaryck. She remembered how when she was first learning magic, he’d taken her wand from him until she had told her mother the truth of what happened to their royal sofa. He’d also refused to help her with one of the spells, forcing her to learn about the importance of not using magic… or something. He’d also made her make him pudding for no reason. None. Yeah, she figured, this is his brand of bullshit: helping by not helping. Goddamnit, Glossaryck.

Elizabeth was eventually awakened from her mulling’s on Glossaryck by… nothing. It occurred to her that Star had gone quiet. She looked up to see Star staring pensively down at her wand, which had conveniently fallen right in front of her when she had laid down on her bed. Her eyes were glossed over and her mouth was curled up in a tiny frown. Elizabeth called out to her, but she didn’t respond. She did so again, this time louder, but no success. It wasn’t until she nearly shouted, “Mom!” that Star’s eyes snapped open. Star’s head whipped around like a broken sprinkler until she found Elizabeth, her left eyebrow raised. Star blinked, then laughed nervously.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, didn’t realize you were speaking to… me.” Her dismal mood had evaporated, leaving only her normally cheerful and playful personality.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I… said it three times. And we’re the only ones in the room.”

Star winced as though having just seen someone doing something socially awkward without realizing it. She took in a deep breath before explaining, “Yeah, well, you said mom, and I’m not really a mom yet, and I don’t want to think of myself that way, so yeah.” She paused for a second before adding, “Yeah, if you could call me Star instead, that’d work out just fiiiiiiine.”

Elizabeth frowned. She’d never called her mother by her first name, not ever. Of course she’d heard her mother be called Star before, but she’d never thought of her that way. She was her mother: The person who had raised her, cared for her, chided her, loved her. “Star” sounded like someone else, like someone’s friend or a cousin. There’s a reason no one calls their parents by their first name: it’s not how you think of them. It certainly wasn’t how Elizabeth thought of her mother.

Though, then again, the 14-year-old girl Elizabeth had just witnessed pouting didn’t really remind her of her mom either. This Star wasn’t quite like her mother, at least not yet. She didn’t have the confidence or grace that Elizabeth remembered. “Star” was… kinda like herself.

“Right, yeah,” She responded slowly. “Star. Ok then.” She tried to remember what she’d been talking about. “Oh yeah, what’s up? You’re kinda acting… depressed-ish?”

Star bit her lip and made an uncomfortable expression with her face scrunched up like a pug. She quickly began rambling, her eyes moving around the room as she spoke: “No, no, I’m fine, I just- I don’t know, it hasn’t been a really great lately, Marco was hanging out with Jackie more than me for a while, and I lost Glossaryck, and my wand wasn’t working great, and then Marco learned that I had a crush on him and he basically rejected me and-“ Her whole body had tensed up as she rose in angst and anxiety until she could hold it no more. She let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh that seemed to fill the whole room with it’s immensity. She looked up to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “It’s just been a lot lately, and not getting the wand tonight kinda just ruined my day.” As she said ‘ruined’, she let herself fall back onto her bed. After a moment she added, “Also it’s kinda weird that you’re my daughter. That’s weird.”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “Very weird. But aren’t you glad that Marco is safe and we got Glossaryck back?”

Before Star could answer, a dull sarcastic voice broke out throughout the room. “The one constant among teenagers of every intelligent species appears to be that they can never be grateful for what they have, only upset about what they lack.” His long, blue forehead materialized through the ground, coming up to stare directly at Elizabeth with enormous wide eyeballs. Elizabeth was shaken by his abrupt entrance, but Star only narrowed her eyes in disgust.

“You were listening the whole time, weren’t you?”

Glossaryck chuckled and turned to face her. “I don’t need to listen, Star. I’m omniscient.”

“Didn’t stop you from being kidnapped, now did it?” Her voice dripped sarcasm and overemphasis in only a way that a teenager (or someone just as mature) could say.

Glossaryck shrugged. He began to float aimlessly throughout the room, his body spinning around in three dimensions. “What did I say, no care that I’m still alive and well, that everyone’s safe, that she gets to meet her future daughter, nothing.” He continued to float, mumbling to himself about ‘the kids these millennia’.

Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully at him. “Wait, Glossaryck, if you’re omniscient, then how did you get caught in the first place?”

“Wonderful question, darling. How about a more relevant one?” He stopped his inertial momentum just as he was facing up, allowing him to address both Star and Elizabeth while facing them. When neither answered, he let out a tired sigh. His words sped up and came out short and sharp, as though trying to spur on a class five minutes before the bell rang. “Remember why you two had come up here looking for me?”

Elizabeth started to respond, but Star cut her off. In response to Glossaryck’s curt tone, Star sighed. Heavily. The air bellowed out of her like the petal tones of a tuba. Elizabeth could have sworn that the room shook slightly. Silence reigned for a few moments. Elizabeth began to say “We were-“but was cut off again by the Star’s impression of a humpback whale. Silence, then a cautious “We… were trying to ask why Jam and I don’t contradict each other and what happened when we saved you.”

Glossaryck studied Star, who had started playing with her wand absently, for a few moments before scrunching up his nose and sneezing. “Yeah, yeah, that.” He turned to face Elizabeth. “Right, so, listen, there are a bunch of timelines and possible alternate universes and stuff, and you and Jam come from two different ones. Your timelines usually just run, kinda, I don’t know, parallel, I suppose?” He shrugged. “You two don’t actually need to fight over who’s the dominate timeline cuz… you both exist.”

Elizabeth stared blankly at him, watching him pick his nose as though he hadn’t just dropped a bomb of information on her. Nothing Glossaryck said made any sense. She had heard everything he’d said, but it didn’t add up to what had happened to her. She tried to find the right words to express this to him, but came up short. Thankfully, Star, master of the English language, stepped in to help her.

“Glossaryck, that doesn’t make any sense. Why the heck would she be here if everything was O-Kahey Do-kahey in her world? That don’t add up, you dumb-dumb.” Such beautiful prose.

Glossaryck continued to pick his nose in his usual relaxed state. “Listen, if you don’t want to hear the truth, I can go back into the book and take a well-deserved nap. These are the facts as I know them, and I know all facts. Usually. Mostly.”

Elizabeth, clearly shaken, looked at him pleadingly. “But- if there’s no reason for me to be here… why did you send me here?”

Glossaryck stared at her for a long time. His body stayed relaxed and casual, but his eyes never moved from her. “I didn’t send you here, Elizabeth.”

The room temperature dropped by a few degrees. Even Star stopped fiddling with her wand. She bit her tongue before asking, “Would it be cliché to then ask ‘then who did?’”

“Only as cliché and cheesy as me revealing the answer to the second question now.”

Elizabeth frowned. Her stomach began to tighten up. Some instinct deep in her brain started yelling that everything was about to fall apart. “You mean, what happened at Ludo’s hideout?”

Glossaryck nodded. “Ludo isn’t there anymore. Toffee has taken his place.”

Silence, broken only by Star’s soft whisper of the lizards name. Glossaryck nodded. Elizabeth stared hard at him, then when fully convinced that he wasn’t pulling their legs, yelled “Shit!”

[lalainajanes]

THESE PROMPTS LAINE HOO BOY kc + “I bet I can dance/move/act like that and I don’t even have to be a dancer/stripper/actor/whatever wait are you turned on?” sex

I Like Your Style

When his doorbellrings at 8:17 PM on a Wednesday, when he’s not expecting a soul, Klaus decidesto ignore whoever thought that dropping by - uninvited and unannounced – was a good idea. His phone hasn’t made a soundall evening and surely, if there were some sort of emergency, someone wouldhave tried to call first. He shifts on the couch, sinking deeper into thecushions, and continues with his Netflix surfing.

He cannot concentrate,idly scrolling without really absorbing anything, as the doorbell will not stopringing. If anything his guest becomes morepersistent, making the irritating ringing infinitely more so by tapping out a melodyof short chimes and long clangs that are familiar. And not in a good way.

Klaus is given a briefreprieve, a moment of blessed silence, and he thinks he just might have managedto out stubborn the doorbell maestro.

Only to be immediatelytreated to another, equally impassioned, performance. Which just about pushesthe limit of Klaus’ patience.

He tosses his remoteaside and pushes himself to his feet before stalking towards the front door. Apassing glance at the mirror in his hallway tells him he’s probably not fit forcompany, he’d already showered and hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but since he’sreasonably certain he doesn’t actually likehis visitor – he might not be able to place the song but it was awful – he doesn’t feel the need to makehimself presentable.

An impulse he regretsupon first opening the door. Caroline Forbes might not have been invited but,standing on his porch in a yellow sundress, her blonde curls loose about hershoulders, she’s far from unwelcome. Klaus is already fully aware of herquestionable taste in music and, since it had been a boon to him just lastweek, it’s in no way a deal breaker. Her lovely blue eyes widen, her sunnysmile dimming slightly as her eyes drop, raking over his torso. There’s a hintof shock, no healthy amount of interest, and more than a dollop of heat as hergaze lingers over his shoulders and flickers lower.

Perhaps there’ssomething to be said for not being presentable. He might even flex a little as he crosses his arms and leans againstthe wall just inside the doorway, silently waiting for Caroline to realizeshe’s quite shamelessly objectifying him and failing to be subtle about it.

It’s unfortunate that thereare no witnesses because Klaus knows she’s likely to deny it later.

Caroline visiblyshakes herself, her spine straightening, and meets his eyes once more. There’sa brief flash of chagrin but determination quickly masks any embarrassment.When she speaks it’s cheery, “Hey, Klaus. Are you busy?”

He glances down athimself pointedly, “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it’stime we settle our little disagreement.” Caroline tells him.

Klaus wracks hisbrain, trying to figure out what she means. He and Caroline disagree –frequently and often at great volume, much to the amusement of his siblings andtheir assorted friends – so narrowing it down isn’t easy. He’d seen Carolinejust last Sunday, at a dinner at Rebekah’s (a monthly affair where she orderedgourmet takeout, plated it on her designer table wear, and pretended like sheknew how to operate her range). Caroline had spent the evening gleefullytaunting him about his love for the pop group they’d taken in a few days prior.Klaus had been roped into chaperoning Henrik who, in the midst of an epicteenage puppy love, had wanted to take his girlfriend to see her favoritegroup. Klaus, unwilling to face a crush of teenagers alone had, in turn, manageto cajole (and bribe) Caroline into tagging along. He was supposed to help herpaint her living room this weekend, the price they’d agreed upon.

He’d gotten off easy,really. The flashing lights, high pitched screams, and so called music had beenalmost bearable with Caroline at his side, bright and joyous and dancing alongwith the crowd. At one point she’d turned in his direction and he’d quicklyfaced the stage, adopted a look of concentration so she’d not realize he’d beenintently watching her, and not thespectacle he’d paid an exorbitant amount of money to witness.

He’d overdone it andCaroline had taken his feigned interest in the performance as a sign that hewas a secret girl groupie (her words, not his). She’d been texting him gossipabout the band member’s tumultuous love lives and links to interviews posted onYouTube ever since.

He’s mostly beenignoring it, certain that any heated denials would be taken as further proof ofhis supposed ardor. Eventually, he and Caroline would find another subject tospar over. They always did.

What pressing disagreementdoes she thinks needs to be solved immediately? Klaus has to admit he hasn’t aclue.

She shifts her weightwhen he remains silent, hefting a large bag he’s just now noticing higher onher shoulder. “I’m going to need your bathroom for like twenty minutes. AndI’ll have to borrow a chair.”

That just confusesKlaus all the more. “I’m lost, sweetheart.”

She lets out anannoyed huff, pointedly keeping her eyes trained on a point somewhere to theleft of his head. “You told me all your drooling at the concert was over the‘grace and athleticism’ of the dancing, remember? Which I called bullshit on,of course. But you were all blah blah blah artistry blah blah blah years oftraining.”

Klaus fights a wince,recalling that particular argument. It wasn’t his finest moment but he’d had tocome up with something to explain awaywhat she’d seen as fascination. And then Caroline had gotten so offended,calling the choreography ‘cookie cutter sexbot thrusting’ and he hadn’t beenable to resist countering, just to see her color heighten and her hands gesturewildly as she attempted to prove her point.

It was his usual instinct,one he rarely bothered fighting. Really, it was a miracle Caroline hadn’trealized his interest. Every single one of their mutual acquaintances hadremarked on it. Klaus suspected there was even a betting pool.

“And you’re going toprove me wrong… how?”

Caroline’s smile is aslow thing, hinting at an ace up her sleeve, and Klaus is both wary andintrigued. She meets his eyes, hers filled with challenge, “Why don’t you letme in and I’ll show you?”

Wordlessly, Klaussteps aside, waving her in. Sucks in a harsh breath when she pats his stomach,her hand lingering in a way that feels deliberate. She doesn’t look at him,merely strides ahead. “Living room first,” she calls. “We’re going to need tomove some furniture.”

He still has verylittle idea of what’s happening but Klaus follows Caroline’s lead. Obliges herwhen she asks him to push his couch against one wall, the coffee table againstanother. She seems to consider the rug but then decides it can stay. She avoidshis gaze, manner brisk and businesslike, only stopping when he taunts her aboutit, pride stealing across her expressive face. Her eyelids grow heavy when shelooks at him a new weight and anticipation there. She stands close to him,closer than necessary, doesn’t shy away when his skin brushes against her barearm or her clothed back. When the room has been rearranged to her specificationsshe nods her satisfaction. “Perfect. Time for wardrobe. I’ll be right back.”She collects her bag and strolls from the room before Klaus can think to pepperher with questions.

He settles in to wait,finds he can’t mourn the change in his evening’s plans. Not when it seems likeCaroline’s are going to turn out to be far superior.

She strives for calmas she changes, rolling on the shimmery fishnets and wriggling into the blackleotard she’d tracked down yesterday. The scoop neck was modest but it was cutlow in the back. Somehow it still managed to keep her boobs in place soCaroline figured it was worth the drive out to the dance shop she hadn’t evenknown existed until this plan had occurred to her.

It had seemed geniusat the time. Now, minutes away from actually doing it Caroline can maybe admitthat it was a little crazy. That she didn’t do her best thinking in the middleof the night when she’d been tossing and turning and mentally rehearsing newrebuttals and quips for the next time she saw Klaus.

She notices her handsstarting to shake when she retrieves her makeup bag and she sets it downcarefully, taking a deep breath. Clown makeup was not on the agenda for theevening. Though if her lipstick happened to get a little smeared later on shewouldn’t exactly object.

She eyes her phone,resting innocently on the countertop and debates calling one of her friends fora chat. They’d all been dragged to a dance class over the last week, some moregood naturedly than others, and they’d probably be good for a pep talk (Elena)or at least willing to listen to her vent her nerves (Bonnie).

If Caroline called Katshe’d likely even get yet anotherlecture about how she really didn’t need to try so hard, that she could havesaved herself the muscle strain and expense if she’d just shown up at his doorin a trench coat and some fuck me heels. ‘I don’t even like him, Caroline,’she’d said, after taking a deep drink of wine. “And I hate lending people my shoes. But I will do it, for you. And forme, so I don’t have to listen to your verbal foreplay ever again.”

Caroline had insistedthat it was just her duty to prove to Klaus how very wrong he was. She’dspecifically come today because no one thought Wednesday was an appropriate day for a booty call. She’d beensnippy and irritated that her friends hadn’t bought a single word of herdenials.

Standing in Klaus’bathroom, jittery and nervous but also excited, Caroline’s beginning to realizethat she might owe each of them a round of ‘I told you so.’

Assuming this wholething didn’t blow up in her face and she had to flee to another state inhumiliation.

She’s totally going toblame it on the fact that he’d opened the door looking rumpled and delicious,more skin on display than she’d ever seen. Her carefully rehearsed speech hadfled and she’d had a brief, verydistracting, fantasy about dropping her bag and reaching for him with nofurther preliminaries.

Those kinds ofthoughts about Klaus weren’t exactly new. His face had been popping up in herfantasy repertoire regularly, beginning back when he was just an acquaintancewith nice hands and a voice that she was sure was made for dirty talk. He’dbegun appearing with more frequency as they’d gotten to know each other becauseas much as he infuriated her  sometimesshe always walked away from their little spats feeling energized, ready to go anotherround.

It was only natural,she’d told herself, to wonder how their dynamic – the push pull of it that lefther heated and excited – would translate with them naked.

Caroline draws herselfup to her full height and pushes those thoughts away before they can take root.Right now wasn’t the time, she refuses to be blushing and nervous when shewalked out there. Her motives might have shifted but she still had a point toprove. Caroline concentrates on fluffing up her curls in the mirror beforereaching for her makeup again, taking a deep steadying breath. She had a planand she was committed to executing it. She’d just get through the steps she’dlaid out, nice and easy, one after the other. It was time to get her game faceon.

Pessimism wasn’t herthing and at least, if things went horribly, going to insane lengths to win anargument was totally in character. She could spin it, weather the friendlyribbing that came her way, and go back to being Klaus’ friend slash adversarylike nothing had happened.

If she took a shot andfell flat maybe she could finally get over her silly little crush. And on thebright side, if her shot hit its mark, she wouldn’t have to. Her friends wouldstill mock her, of course. But Klaus was totally petty enough to join her insome serious revenge PDA so Caroline thought she’d still come out a winner.

He paces, curiosityraging, straining to hear anything from down the hallway, itching for the tiniesthint about what Caroline has planned. The use of the word ‘wardrobe’ was particularlyintriguing, suggesting that Caroline was in a state of undress in his bathroom,something he struggles not to dwell on knowing full well his attire won’t hidemuch. Unfortunately, not a peep makes it to his ears, and Klaus is left totorture himself with possibilities, most likely too good to be true, until the bathroomdoor creaks back open and he hears her step out of the bathroom.

At which point he throwshimself on to the couch, crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, all in aneffort to look natural and nonchalant.

It’s a waste as he’scertain the way his lips part, body stiffening, in shock as Caroline walks backinto the living room are most illuminating and he’s grateful his legs willobscure the visible tent in his sweats caused by his swelling cock. He swallowsheavily, taking in the sleek lines of her body, lovingly outlined in verylittle fabric. What covers her clings deliciously and his hands itch to skimover her curves. He’s always liked her legs, had vivid desires involving them wrappedabout his hips, and they seem especially endless and tempting in the stockingsshe wears. Caroline tosses him a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder,resting a hand on her hip. “My eyes are up here,” she taunts.

Klaus clears histhroat, “Caroline, wh…” he trails off, uncertain of what he means to ask. ‘Whatare you wearing?’ “What are you doing?’ “Why are you all the way across theroom when you could be in my lap?’

He should probably workup to that last bit.

Her laugh is warm, atouch mischievous. There’s a slight relaxing of her posture, her confidenceradiates in the swaying of her hips as she takes a few steps towards him.There’s nothing but innocence in her expression, too much to be natural. “I’mproving a point. I haven’t taken a dance class since college but I bet I can doit just as well as those girls you were eyeing.”

He takes a second todigest that, to ponder the implications. “You’re going to… dance? Now? Inthat?” He’s helpless not to gesture, cringing because he knows he sounds like an imbecile.

Caroline’s fingertipsstroke across the neckline of her top, head tipped to the side quizzically, “What’swrong with what I’m wearing?”

Klaus clenches histeeth together because what he’d wanted to blurt out – that the only thing wrong with the clingy black scraps offabric she had on what that he wasn’t entirely certain he could remove themexpediently – was probably unwise. “Nothing,” he manages, clipped and terse.

Caroline doesn’t seemto take offense, if anything she looks pleased. “Well, now that we’veestablished what I’m doing here, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be out of yourhair in under a half hour, don’t you worry.”

She breezes away,towards the kitchen, before Klaus can argue with her assumption that he wantsher gone.

No matter. He’ll makea point of mentioning it later.

Caroline worksquickly, dragging one of Klaus’ kitchen chairs into the center of his livingroom, hooking up her phone to his stereo system. It only takes a moment – she’dmonopolized the music at a party he’d thrown once or twice or every single timeeven though he complained incessantly – and she doesn’t let herself look athim.

A girl only had somuch self-control.

He hadn’t bothered toput a shirt on and he wears only a pair of sweatpants, slung low enough thatit’s entirely possible he’s not wearing anything underneath them. She wants toask him about the tattoos, wants to discover the texture of his skin, to see ifhe’ll shudder when she traces his hipbone with her tongue.

She’d want to throwherself at him even if he hadn’t been watching her every move with lustdarkened eyes, the lines of his body taut, a struggle painted clear across hisface.

He wanted her. Of thatCaroline had no more doubts.

She gets intoposition, facing Klaus with the chair in front of her, setting a hand on thetop rung, letting her hair fall down to curtain her face. The music begins,slow and sultry, and she begins to sway her hips in time, bending deeper with everyeight count. Caroline’s certain she hears a noise, a tiny pained groan, andbites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She swings a leg over thechair, pausing to turn in profile and run her hand along her thigh as shecatches Klaus’ eye. She spins, and drapes herself across it, extending her legsand dipping low over the other side, arching her back to pull herself up, herhand coming up to play with her hair. She twists, facing him, easing her thighsopen as she glances up to gauge Klaus’ reaction and stills once she sees thathe’s moving. His jaw’s clenched tight and Caroline’s eyes widen when he loomsover her. He pauses for a second, his eyes tracing a hot path down the line ofher body. She fights the urge to squirm but then Klaus is dropping to hisknees, cupping her jaw and tugging her closer. She goes willingly, eagerly,slipping off the chair and grasping his shoulders for purchase. Klaus smilesinto the kiss, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling into him, chest toknee, shoving the chair away carelessly. He pulls back enough to speak thoughthe patterns he’s tracing along her spine are distracting. “Perhaps I’llconcede. Just this once.”

Her laugh is breathy, “Yeah,you’ll concede. You really are into the whole cheesy choreography thing, huh?”

He shakes his head, atouch exasperated, “I barely saw those girls, Caroline. I was looking at youand you almost caught me.”

She doesn’t botherfighting the pleased smile. “Noted. Totally kicking myself for putting all theeffort into learning a routine now. I didn’t even get to the good part.”

Klaus increases thedistance between them, intrigue flickering across his face, “The good part?””

Caroline’s not havingthat. “Later,” she murmurs, burying her hand in his hair. “Assuming you don’tsuck at the sex thing.”

Klaus is unable totake that as anything but a challenge, just as Caroline had intended. He useshis arm to lift her, his hand coming up to cradle her head as he lays her onher back. He props himself up on one elbow, settling into the cradle of herthighs and leaning down to kiss her once more. There’s less urgency now, theheat builds slowly, his tongue teasing and stroking as their breath quickensand her hips push up searching for friction. Klaus’ hand begins to wander, hestrokes her throat and her head tips back with an encouraging sigh. His mouthmoves to her throat as his fingertips trace her collarbone, hooking into theneckline of her leotard. He tugs enough to bare one breast, his fingertipsgentle on the slope before finding her nipple. It begins to firm under histouch, tightening under the roughening circles of his thumb. He glances down,lips parted. “Lovelier than I’d imagined,” he murmurs. His hand leaves her,head dipping. His lips close over her nipple, Caroline arches up with a moanand he attempts to push the fabric further down. It resists and Caroline letsout a noise of protest as he pulls back, brow furrowed, “How does one removethis?”

She’d laugh at howpuzzled he seems, makes a mental note to make a joke about it later, but it’snot the time for humor, not with her skin tingling and a persistent achebetween her thighs. She pushes him back slightly, hooking a leg over his hip sohe doesn’t go far, and tugs a strap down her shoulder in impatient jerks. Theother quickly follows and Klaus seems eager to help, rolling the leotard down hertorso. Caroline hooks her thumbs in her tights, wiggling her hips so they comeoff too. Klaus freezes for a moment. “You weren’t wearing anything under that,”he mutters, almost to himself, sounding strained.

He’s stoppedundressing her and Caroline’s not having that. Letting out an annoyed huff shegets one leg free, biting her lip to keep from moaning when she presses againstKlaus’ cock, straining behind a single layer of fabric. “It’s not very forgiving.I didn’t want lines. Besides, pretty sure I am not the only one going commandohere.” This time she grinds up deliberately and a shudder wracks Klaus’ frame.She runs her nails along his spine, one drifting up to tug at the curls at thebase of his neck, the other pushing under the waistband of his sweats. His headbows, a harsh breath panted against her throat and he rears up, shoving theirremaining clothes aside. This time she’s helpless to resist the urge to reachfor him, sitting up when he moves to hover over her again, pushing at hisshoulder until he gets the hint and rolls onto his back.

Caroline wraps herhand around his cock, slinging a leg over his hips and shaking her hair back.She strokes him, rubbing her thumb along the tip of him, relishing his harshinhale. Just like when they argue Klaus is completely unwilling to let her win,rolling himself up and brushing her hands aside. He angles his head and kissesher, tempting her to part her lips with a lush swipe of his tongue, a hand onher hip urging her to move against him. Her mouth falls open as she sinksdeeper into the kiss, thighs widening as she searches for friction. She gaspswhen she feels his fingers, parting her folds and coming away slick.

She’s been turned on sinceshe started to dance, ready for him to be inside her since he’d first put hismouth on her nipple. Klaus seems intent on teasing her with light indirecttouches to her clit that tighten the knots in her stomach but give her norelief. His other hand is greedy for all the skin it can reach, smoothing overher back and ass, sneaking between them to palm a breast. Caroline bites downon his shoulder and Klaus hisses, taking the hint and easing a finger inside. “More,”she rasps, soothing the mark she’d left.

He obeys pressing his handtightly to her. She begins to ride his fingers in earnest, thighs tremblingwhen the heel of his hand rubs against her clit. He groans, leaning back towatch her face, “Just like that Caroline. Do you know how many times I’vethought of you like this? Trembling and breathless and wet because of me.”

Hopefully nearly asmany times as she has. He curls his fingers, rubbing against a spot inside ofher that has her head falling back and her vision going hazy, “Tell me,” shedemands, in a voice that’s hoarse and edged in need.

Klaus obliges, and she’dtotally been right about his voice. Thickened with his own arousal it’smesmerizing, “The little dresses you favor make it impossible not to thinkabout sneaking my hand underneath your skirt when we’re at a bar or out todinner. I’d stroke your thighs, a silent question, and you’d spread them forme, eager for my touch. In my mind you’ve been wet and hot around my fingerswhile I’ve gotten you off under a table while you flush prettily and try not tosquirm dozens upon dozens of times.”

Caroline swallowshard, rolling her head forward to look at him. His face is tight with strain,lips reddened and swollen. She manages a broken inhale, scrambling to puttogether a coherent sentence, “Well, we are supposed to do drinks on Friday…”

He makes a harshnoise, low in his throat, his hand easing away from her. Caroline’s mouth dropsopen but his next words stills her protest, “I need a condom.”

She shakes her head, “Ihave the implant and I don’t have anything. Are you…”

“Disease free? Yes.”

That’s good enough forher. She trusts him and she wants him and stopping right now when she’s soclose seems like torture. She lifts up higher onto her knees and reaches down,their fingers tangle but they get him positioned and Caroline sinks down with amoan, looking down to watch him slide inside of her. He grips her hips tightlywhen he’s all the way in, his body a solid line of tension against hers. Shefights the hold, needing to move, andhe eases up with a groan, reaching to tease her clit again when she begins tomove. It’s probably not graceful, more frantic than finessed, but Klaus doesn’tseem to mind, little noises of need spilling from him every time she takes himback inside of her. Their skin heats and slickens and soon she’s short ofbreath and the best kind of dizzy.

Caroline cries out as his fingers rub againsther with more purpose and she begins to shake, gripping him as her orgasmbuilds. “You’re so close, sweetheart,” Klaus murmurs. “Let go for me.”

She slumps into himwhen it hits her, muffling her cry in his skin and Klaus’ arms tighten aroundher as he lets go, snapping his hips up into hers as he chases his own release.He bites out a sharp curse, a reverent whisper of her name, before he collapsesback onto the floor, Caroline following him down. They shift for a minute toget comfortable, and Caroline squirms as he slips out of her before settlingagainst his chest.

The music’s longstopped and she lays her head over his chest, listens to his heart slow as hesifts his hands through her hair. When she feels like she can talk without wheezingshe peeks up, only to find Klaus’ eyes closed, his expression content. As if hefeels her watching his eyes slit open and he smiles, “Something on your mind?”

So many things.

She bites her lip andKlaus’ eyes flare with a new rush of heat as he watches, “Okay, first, Ilegitimately did not plan to seduce you.”

Klaus appears dubious,“You planned to dance for me, wearing what you were wearing, but it wasn’t aseduction?”

Okay, fine, when youput it like that it sounded bad.

“I didn’t consciously decide to seduce you,” sheamends.

He presses his lipstogether like he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, remind me to do something nicefor your subconscious someday. It obviously has discerning tastes.”

She pokes him in theside, narrowing her eyes in a glare. He couldn’t seriously be mocking her,could he? They were naked and she could feel their combined release coating theinside of her thighs.

Klaus hauls her upwith his grip on her hair, kissing her until her lips soften and cling to his. “I’dintended to ask you to dinner for ages. We always just seem to sink intobickering before I can manage and then it seems like bad timing.”

“Oh,” Caroline says,slightly mollified. “Maybe you should be less of a dick then.”

Klaus laughs, “I thinkthat’s unlikely. Perhaps you should be less easy to bait, hmm?”

Caroline has to admitthat also seems unlikely. She sits up and notes the way Klaus eyes her breastshungrily. She moves away before he can make the move he’s clearly considering, “Compromise,”she offers. “We bicker while we dodate things. Starting with food. Now.”

Klaus reaches over hishead in a stretch, and she kind of can’t fault him for ogling her boobs, notwhen she takes a very long look at the way his pale skin stretches over thelean muscles of his abdomen, letting her eyes linger on his cock that seems tobe twitching back into readiness. He doesn’t seem to mind the scrutiny, foldinghis hands under his head, “That’s a compromise I can live with. I’ve heardexcellent things about make up sex.”

Caroline doesn’t lookat him as she stands and makes her way to the bathroom. She’s going to needsustenance because she knows she won’t be able to resist picking a fight withthat statement lingering between them.

Could make up sex withKlaus even be better than the sexthey’d just had? Her legs are shaky and she feels fantastic so Caroline’sskeptical.

But not at all opposedto experimenting.