#but there's a few times where the dream will be so vivid i ACTUALLY feel like I'm touching things

[nexus-nebulae]

dislike when one bad dream makes me paranoid all day

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer in love with an artist reader

・❥ There’s only one good way to start the day… pancakes and ice cream.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

warning: mild swearing

You were awoken by something shifting against your chest. You stirred, adjusting slightly as you lay on your side. 

You let the covers slide around you, the cool touch of the pillow beneath your face made you smile sleepily. That’s right, you were in your bed snuggled warmly beneath your sheets. Which is not where you remembered falling asleep last night. 

Does that mean everything that happened yesterday was just a really weird dream? 

If it was, it was the most vivid dream you’ve ever had. And, it seemed a little too crazy to be real. Being thrown off a balcony and being seconds away from shooting a man, all in the same night, was not a usual day for you. 

Your brain was still foggy with sleep, and all you wanted to do was burrow your face farther into the pillow and drift off. Except, that pressure on your chest was making it hard to.

“KeeKee.. please, not right now..” You mumbled into the fabric, your voice laced with drowsiness. There was no response from the feline, but the form shifted slightly besides you, as if to nuzzle closer to you. 

Sometimes you’d find her sleeping beside you, but that was pretty rare. Even so, you weren’t going to let her ruin your beauty sleep. With gentle movements, you slowly slid your arm forward, and your fingers brushed against soft hair.

Your palms hit a firm surface beneath the silky strands. Did KeeKee always have this long of fur? Did she gain weight too? You only ignored your suspicions, and slowly pushed her off your chest, farther across the bed. Sighing happily, you pulled the covers closer to you, embracing its warmth. 

You felt something stir beside you, and the warm figure snuggled back into your chest. You groaned softly, you were too tired to take this attitude from the cat.

Lifting your arm again, your fingers quickly reached up and grasped the warm silhouette. This time, however, you let your hand travel down the form. Until you halted suddenly, your fingers grazing against something smooth and hairless. You didn’t remember KeeKee having any bald spots.

Slowly, you felt farther along. You could feel curves in the surface, cracks even. 

What in the worl-

“Is this how you plan to wake me every morning?” a voice grumbled sleepily through your fingers. 

Wait a second. There was a person in your bed?!

Your eyes shot open, the curtains thankfully covering the morning light from blinding you as you jumped out of the covers. Instinctively, your leg shot forward, kicking the stranger right in the side. He was sent tumbling off the bed with an audible “oomph,” and a heavy thump reverberated around the room. Followed by silence. 

You kneeled on top of the bed, heart pounding as your nerves settled. You blinked, you had recognized that voice. Had that been Lucifer?! 

You hurriedly crawled across the bed, your head peeking from off the side of it as you peered below you. Laying face down, was the familiar naked back of the fallen angel. His blonde hair messily spread across the wooden floor as he lay there motionless.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!! Are you okay?!” You yelled down to him. He stirred, his head nodding slowly under the hair. 

“You know, not too bad actually. Believe it or not, i’ve taken harder falls.” He mumbled against the wood. 

Lucifer shifted, rolling onto his back. He looked up at you, before blowing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. He looked totally fine, if not tired from the sudden awakening. A few rays of the morning light beamed through the window, casting some of his features in a red glow as he watched you. God, he was gorgeous. 

“I don’t remember falling asleep in my bed, what happened?” You asked him, slowly sitting up from your position. He mirrored you, lifting his torso from the ground. 

“You didn’t expect us to sleep in a chair all night, did you? I’d be cracking my back for days if that was the case. You look so peaceful when you sleep, so I couldn’t bother to wake you. But yes, I moved us to the bed.”

“So yesterday was real..” You whispered, 

“Uh, yeah. I killed a bunch of scumbags and saved you from becoming a splat on the pavement. Yesterday was definitely real.” 

Lucifer sat up fully, before getting to his feet. He stretched, raising his arms above his head before opening his mouth up in a yawn. He was already dressed in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants as he strolled to the bathroom. Did he put those on using magic?

You stood from the edge of the bed, quickly walking to your dresser and pulling out a casual outfit. You began slipping it on, before turning towards the open bathroom door.

You watched Lucifer’s back flex slightly as he bent over to wash his face in the sink, your eyes drinking in his figure. Lucifer looked nothing like the ancient paintings visualized him to be. Your brain immediately recalled the image of Alexandre Cabanel’s famous painting, ‘The Fallen Angel’.

It depicted Lucifer as wide-shouldered, toned from head to toe with thick muscles. Nice calves too. Yet, standing here before you, he embodied an angel much more than he did in that painting. Elegant, serene, otherworldly. 

Like how the candlelight perfectly illuminated his pearly-white skin, as if he was being basked in moonlight. Or how his touch was like velvet sheets against your skin, soft and delicate as he ran his fingers down your waist. 

He exuded a certain feminine grace, that enraptured you when those pretty eyes of his sent you looks of adoration as you rambled about your current fixations, or gave him more lessons in art history. You smiled warmly at the thought, he was precious to you, no doubt. 

“You know what, I’m thinking.. pancakes! We’ll finally put that big kitchen downstairs to use and make some breakfast.” Lucifer broke you out of your thoughts, as he walked up to you, pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Damn, did he change without you even noticing again? 

You smiled as he approached, the thought of food making your stomach growl. You were unbelievably hungry, seeing as there wasn’t exactly time last night to stop for a meal. 

“That sounds like a good idea, we’ll get everyone else in on it too and eat together, a big hazbin-family breakfast.” 

Lucifer nodded as he turned away from you, his eyes scanning the room. “Which reminds me, that means I can give Charlie the tuxedo…” He trailed off, turning to you slowly, a look of panic on his features.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucifer rubbed a hand down his face, growling at himself. “I must have left the bag with her suit back at the club! Ugh, I'm such an idiot.” 

“It’s still early, it won’t take you more than a minute to get across the city. Go get her a new one.” You commanded, pointing towards the balcony doors in your room. 

Lucifer followed your finger, and then nodded quickly. “You’re right, I’ll go do that.” Quickly, he adjudged his bow-tie, before heading for the doors. 

It wasn’t until his hand was just inches from the handle, did you see the rather large reddish-purple mark sticking out from the crook of his neck. Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed as you realized what exactly caused the bruise. How did you not notice that before?! 

Quickly, you ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face you. “Wait! You.. well-you, um… got something on your neck?” 

He regarded you for a moment, confusion written across his face. “Something.. on my neck?” 

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly reached up to grab the top of his shirt. On even further inspection, and a slight adjustment of his collar, you could make out the fainted curved indents of teeth marks along his collar bone.

Did you bite him that hard last night? You shouldn’t have done that. What if Charlie saw it? That would be so awkward. 

“From.. last night,” you finally uttered, “when I got a little carried away.” 

Lucifer’s gaze narrowed, and then they widened slightly as he understood. A smirk tugged on his lips as he backed away from your grasp. “So?” 

“What do you mean ‘so’? It’s not normal for people to be walking around with hickeys all over them for everyone to gawk at!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

“Why, so they won’t know I had you screaming my name, drenched on top of that table?” He asked, motioning towards the very same dining table that you had been laid over in pure bliss the night before.

You quickly averted your gaze to stop a mental picture forming, and instead met his eyes. Sending him a glare for his bluntness. Walking across the room, you bent down and pulled his overcoat from the side of your bed. Brushing off any dirt, you made your way back to Lucifer.

Silently, you wrestled him into the white garment. He stood there and watched as you adjusted his tall collar, trying your best to hide any love marks. After a little more fussing, you felt satisfied with your work and stepped back. 

“There, you’re ready to go! Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go remind everyone that I am alive.” You spoke. Last night, Lucifer had told you Angel Dust had been dropped in the lobby. It was late enough where everyone should have been asleep, and since nobody came to look for you after that, you assumed Angel had passed out and was probably working through a nasty hangover somewhere in the hotel.

You leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Lucifer’s lips, before nudging him towards the balcony doors. He turned, pulling them open and crossing the threshold. You stood in the entryway, watching him stroll to the black, metal railing. He glanced over the side, contemplating for a moment.

“Now, watch how the pro does it.” Lucifer teased as he turned to face you, his back leaning against the railing. With a little boost, he flipped himself backwards and vaulted over the metal bars. Your eyes widened in shock as he began to fall.

Right as his feet left the balcony, you ran to the railing peering over the side as you watched him plummet to the ground. Beneath him, a large, golden portal swirled alive waiting for him. 

He waved up to you just as he crossed it, the portal swallowing him up and vanishing without a trace. You smiled, shaking your head at his little performance before turning back towards the doors. 

For a few more minutes, you were busy tidying yourself up and trying to look presentable. You quickly squeezed some soap out of the little yellow ducky on the sink counter, and washed your hands and face. Soon, you noticed you were also adorned with a few love marks from Lucifer, and you sat in front of the mirror trying to hide them the best you could. 

Feeling satisfied with your work, you turned away and headed for the doorway that led into the rest of the hotel. Grasping the handle, you slowly cracked the door open, peeking your head out slightly as you listed.

You could hear loud voices down the halls, in the direction of the lobby. There were multiple of them as if everyone was gathered in the same room, you exhaled a breath before straightening. Time to face the music. 

Heading down the stairs, you strolled through the hallways. The voices became more and more audible as you closed in on the large, open room.

“-and then, I looked behind them and there was this guy all bloody and shit, pointing a gun right at Lucifer! I barely saw anything else happen b’for I was sucked into this.. golden portal or something.” Angel Dust’s voice echoed through the lobby, as he retold the events of last night. He was standing in front of the T.V, the residents of the hotel listening from the couches circled around him. They leaned in, engrossed in his story. 

“Next thing I knew, my ass hit the floor right here. God.. I was just so out of it I practically passed out where I was. I don’t remember seeing either of them after that.. hey! you!” Angel’s eyes widened as he noticed you walking towards them. Suddenly, the entire hotel’s gaze was locked onto you.

Charlie quickly shot up from the couch, hurrying over to you. She scanned your figure, searching for any injuries as you stopped before her. After noting nothing serious was wrong with you, she took your hand, gripping it tightly. “Where have you been? Angel just told us everything that happened! Are you okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I'm fine. I wasn’t hurt at all.” You assured the princess, smiling at her. Turning to the spider-demon, you scanned him for any injuries as well. “How about you, Angel. Are you okay?”

“Pfft, yeah. I’m okay. Just a lil shaken up, especially after watching you almost get shot. It seemed you got a good sleep, though.” 

“Wait, you’ve been here this whole fucking time. Did anyone else know that?” Vaggie called from the couch, crossing her arms as she stood up. 

“I did. They’ve been here all night.” Nifty spoke from the floor, her single eye staring into you. 

How did she know that? Did Nifty.. hear anything?

“Uhm.. yes, that’s right. Yesterday was just rough. So, I went to sleep right away.” You answered, lying through your teeth.

“And my dad?” Charlie questioned.

You shrugged, “I have no clue.”

“Well, at least our dear friend is back safe and sound!” A familiar voice exclaimed from next to you. You jumped slightly, turning to see Alastor and his award-winning smile as he looked at you. “Charlie insisted that I come find you, but I assured her you are capable of handling your own affairs. Especially, with our lovely king to protect you.”

You smiled slightly at him, “Yes, indeed. I’m sorry for not coming to see you guys sooner. I just got.. distracted.” 

“With what?” Angel asked, an eyebrow raised and hands on his hips. You paused, before opening your mouth to speak.

You weren’t able to get a word out before you heard a thumping coming from the front doors of the hotel. Everyone turned towards the noise, and through the stained glass, you could make out the silhouette of a rather tall hat peeking from the bottom of the glass.

“Well, ain’t that a little too good of timing.” Husk grumbled from the bar, as he leaned over the counter to get a look at the doorway. You silently agreed, that was fast. 

Charlie recognized the familiar figure as well, and quickly ran to the door. She yanked it open, and there he was. Lucifer stood, adorned in his full outfit, a pink bag in his hand as he strode into the room. Next to you, you swore Alastor’s grip on his cane tightened. 

“Charlie, good morning! How are you doing, sweetheart?” Lucifer beamed as he embraced her, who accepted the hug gratefully.

“I’m good, dad. But, what about you? I heard what happened! Did you kill people?” She eyed him with a firm stare, as if in disapproval of his actions.

Lucifer shrugged, “Only bad people, I had to protect your spider-friend over there. You should keep a better eye on him.”

“Apparently,” Charlie sighed, glancing at Angel behind them before turning back to her father, “and where have you been?”

Lucifer’s gaze momentarily landed on you, and you shook your head slightly. ‘Don’t say anything about it,’ you commanded him through your eyes. Especially not with everyone in the room, hungry for more information. 

“Oh, wellllll, I was just in town and snagged this for you!” Lucifer lifted up the pink bag, a nervous smile on his lips as he held it out for Charlie to take.

Eyeing it curiously, Charlie gently took it from his hands. She peered into it, her eyes widening as she reached in and lifted the garment from its wrapping. 

It was that same red suit that you had eyed through the glass display the day before, gold lapels shimmered in the light above. It was very beautiful, and you thought it would look good against Charlie’s ivory skin. 

Charlie didn’t say anything, instead, she just stood there. The tuxedo in her grip, opened fully to reveal the entire garment. Her fingers lightly trailed down the front of it, grazing across the buttons and textured sleeves. Her eyes were unreadable, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Did you.. buy this for me?” She asked after a moment, looking up at Lucifer. He met her gaze, seemingly a little nervous from her reaction. 

“Well, you said the one you had was getting a bunch of wear and tear, so I thought that would look perfect on you. Do.. you like it?” 

“I love it!” Charlie exclaimed with glee, she set the suit aside and pulled her father into another bear hug. “Thank you so much! It's wonderful, especially since it’s from you!” 

Lucifer exhaled a sigh of relief at her words, he tightened his arms around her, trying to capture every second of her loving gesture in his hold. He smiled warmly, and for a moment it looked like he was going to tear up. 

He didn’t, instead he pulled away, straightening his back. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his face before looking back at Charlie. The adoration in his eyes was on full display, and if anyone ever doubted that the mighty king didn’t love his daughter, you’d slap them.

Adjusting his collar, Lucifer turned towards the group of onlookers. “Now, who wants some pancakes?” 

Everyone seemed to perk at that, and Nifty hopped from her spot next to Alastor, raising her hand in excitement. 

“As long as they are sssstrawberry pancakesss!” Sir. Pentious declared as he rose from his seat, slithering towards the swinging doors, where the large kitchen lay behind. His little eggs waddling after him, a chorus of ‘oh boy!’s rose from the shells.

“Cmon,” Husk beckoned Angel Dust as he left the bar, “Let's get something in your stomach to fight that hangover of yours.”

“Oh, yes please” Angel smiled, joining the bartender. Even Alastor seemed interested in joining them in the other room, as he slowly followed behind the group. 

“I’m kinda feeling waffles today.” Vaggie spoke up, her hand entwined with Charlie’s as they walked. 

“We can make whatever you wish,” you responded, smiling at her, “except, maybe not eggs. At least with the company we’re keeping.” 

Pushing open the red doors, the flooring shifted into large, white marble tiles. The room was stuffed with cabinets and pantries, multiple fridges also dotted its perimeter. Long, creamy-white stone countertops lined the walls, as well as a large kitchen island in the center of the space. 

There was an empty space on the other side of the room, big enough to hold a large dining table and chairs. It was actually a great place to do something like that, but where could 

Behind you, Lucifer was pulling different ingredients out of the fridge. The shelves were surprisingly well stocked, even the pantries above as he continued to pull out items of importance.

“Dad, shouldn’t you take off your coat?” Charlie asked beside him, as she tied an apron around her waist. You tensed, slowly pivoting to their direction.

Lucifer halted, a box of baking powder hanging in mid-air between his fingers. His gaze snapped to you, then back to Charlie. You were desperately hoping no one could see the sweat beading down your forehead.  

“You’re right,” Lucifer started, as he placed the baking powder on the counter, “I can’t cook with such loose sleeves.” 

He snapped his fingers, and it seemed like the coat began to melt against his skin, shifting into a white turtleneck. The long neck sleeve covered the hickeys that peppered the sides of his throat, continuing to hide your previous entanglement. And, damn, he looked really nice in that outfit too. 

Tying on a red apron with the words ‘Kiss the chef’ embroidered on the front. After pulling up his sleeves, Lucifer began to pull out mixing bowls and other utensils. 

“Just you wait, Charlie, after today you’ll never want anyone else’s pancakes again. My recipe is the best there is.” He spoke, puffing out his chest slightly as he addressed his daughter. 

Charlie only laughed softly, pulling out a box containing waffle mix as she sidled up next to her dad. “I don’t doubt that one bit!” 

As the two continued prepping to cook, you turned to grab an apron of your own. As you walked to the wooden hooks hanging on the wall, you took note of the others around you. 

Angel, Husk, and Sir. Pentious huddled together over another counter, a carton of milk and a jar of strawberry jam laid in front of them.

“How ‘bout we make ya some strawberry milk while we wait, snake boy?” He asked, a playful smile on his lips. Sir. Pentious nodded quickly, his hood raised in happiness. 

Using a tablespoon to take a few scoops out of the jar, he plopped them into an empty cocktail mixer that he borrowed from the bar. Pouring in the milk, he placed the lid on the mixer, before handing it to Husk. 

With a few shakes—and a couple of party tricks consisting of him catching the mixer behind his back, and spinning it across his forearm—the lid was popped off, and Husk poured the bright pink liquid into the glass cup in front of Sir. Pentious. 

Both demons clapped for the bartender, who smiled proudly at the reaction. Sir. Pentious gingerly lifted the glass to his lips, before taking a small sip. After a moment, eyes lit up, a large smile on his face.

He took another large gulp, before thanking Angel Dust and Husk for the drink. 

“Oh, and don’t forget about my egg boisss.” Sir. Pentious turned to Angel Dust, pointing at the small group of eggs looking enviously up at the drink in his claws. 

Angel looked down, his eyes darting to the ingredients in front of him, before he simply shrugged. “Alright, who’s thirsty?” 

“I would like some, please!” Frank yelled excitedly, the eggs behind him jumping in place with large smiles on their faces. 

Angel Dust chuckled, turning away to grab more glasses. Husk was already preparing the scoops of jam, licking a small mess of the red foodstuff from his claws. 

Grabbing the apron from the hook, you adjusted it to your figure, tying it tight behind your back. Next to you, Vaggie was holding a knife in her hand. She was looking down, a firm gaze aimed at Nifty.

“No, Niff. This is not a place to run around with a knife. You can get it back after breakfast.” 

Nifty’s shoulders drooped, a frown on her face as she walked away. She passed by Alastor, who stood silently, watching the bustling group of demons. Wasn’t he going to join in? He was technically part of the Hazbin family. 

Slowly, you approached him, and his gaze snapped to you. His smile widened as he turned to you, the cane at his side rolling between his fingers. 

“Ah, hello there, my friend! Good to see you alive and well, ha-ha,” His eyes squinted as he tilted his head at you, “what can I do for you today?” 

“Don’t you want some food? We’ll be cooking soon. It doesn’t have to be breakfast, I think we have enough here to make whatever you want.” 

Alastor actually contemplated your question for a moment, his eyes staring off in thought. “Hm, well, there was something I had in mind, but the seasoning it needs is not in my possession anymore.” 

“What happened to it?” You asked curiously.

“I simply gave it to someone more in need of it than I. Hopefully, she’ll be putting good use to it.”

A lady friend? You wanted to ask about this ‘someone’, but felt prying wouldn’t get you anywhere with the mysterious overlord. Instead, you beckoned him to follow as you walked towards the counter space Lucifer and Charlie were situated at. 

You both stopped at the creamy-white marbled island. On its surface, was a large recipe book and different ingredients spread across. Alastor had to like something here, even if it wasn’t a decaying deer.

“Let’s see.. we could do french toast, yogurt parfaits, breakfast burritos, oh! We even could make hash browns! What do you think?”

Alastor bent down to look besides you, his eyes scanning the pages. He opened his mouth to speak, before his gaze snapped to another demon coming into view.

“Darling, i’ve finished the pancake mix. I was thinking you could…” Lucifer stopped, locking eyes with the Radio Demon. A frown formed on his lips, and his brow furrowed. “Oh. It’s you.” 

That smile Alastor held widened, as he straightened himself and turned towards the fallen angel. You grimaced, not again.

“Your majesty! What a pleasure to see you this hellish morning, I apologize for not being able to greet you when you arrived earlier.”

“A tragedy.” Lucifer responded mildly, before his eyes settled on you. 

“Well isn’t this nice! The four of us, all working together to make this breakfast special.” Charlie appeared besides her father, a smile on her lips as she tried to lighten the situation.

“Yes, I was just asking Alastor what else he thinks we should make.” You nodded along, before turning to the demon for his input.

“It appears your menu contains a less-than-ideal amount of meat, my friend. Perhaps, some bacon roll-ups? They were a staple for meals back in my days on earth. Very simple as well, just cream cheese, bread, and bacon!”

You were aware of what he was talking about. They were made by putting cream cheese on a slice of bread, before using a strip of bacon to roll it into a ball. You’d spear it with a toothpick and bake it for about twenty minutes, and wala, an odd delicacy.

“That is a great idea! Isn’t it, dad?” Charlie asked, nudging her father with her elbow, prodding for a response.

“It sounds kind of gross.” 

“Dad!” Charlie turned, a slight growl in her voice. “Say something nice!” 

“Bacon is much better than venison, though!” Lucifer quickly responded, following his daughter’s demand. You place a hand to your face, sighing at his antics. A hint of smile played on your lips as you walked forward, pulling Lucifer away by the arm.

Charlie turned back to Alastor, their conversation inaudible as you walked away. You went to the opposite side of the kitchen, where the bowl full of pancake batter lay. Flour messily covered the countertop, 

“You two need to learn to get along, you bicker like an old married couple.” You said after a few moments.

Lucifer shot you a look, visibly distraught by your comment. “That guy gets on my nerves! If it weren’t for Charlie liking him so much, I'd smite him.” 

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” you teased, leaning against him. You both sat there for a few moments, silently indulging in each other's presence. Later, you’d ask to seek his company in the privacy of your room. For now, you pulled away, grabbing the mixing bowl.

“So, what did you need my help with?” 

“I thought you’d like to give the pancakes a little.. shape,” he started, turning towards the stove and spinning the dial, “use that artistic talent of yours and make a delicious masterpiece, hm?” 

You perked, he wants you to make pancake art? What a wonderful idea! This was something you have never done before, but you’ve seen enough videos to imitate it. “I’ll go get some dark food coloring, and another mixing bowl.”

Lucifer began placing pans onto the stove burners, placing small amounts of butter in each. They sizzled as the pan began to heat. You stood besides him, slowly stirring the batter as you hummed to the tune of ‘innsbruck, I must leave thee’ 

Soon, Lucifer was humming the notes as well, and you smiled warmly as the two of you stood-by-side, drowning out the other’s chatter with your little tune. 

Nearby, Vaggie and Charlie were giggling to each other as they placed the waffle mix into its designated maker. Small bowls of different fruit and syrup spread around, as they prepared the toppings. 

Alastor stood beside them, a large cooking fork floating mid-air in front of him. Small tendrils snaked around the utensil as it occasionally lowered to the pan in front of him to adjust the bacon. 

“Hey, Al! Why don’cha give us a table over here so we can have somewhere to eat?” Angel Dust called, a stack of plates in his hand. The egg bois stood patiently around him, each holding a set of silverware and napkins. 

Alastor turned to the spider-demon before humming a confirmation. Lifting his hand, he snapped his fingers. A large oak table materialized from a cloud of green smoke, a long, red table-runner rolled free as it hung slightly off the edges.

Chairs seemingly rose from the floor like the undead, rocking slightly as they settled around the table. The egg bois rushed forward, clumsily climbing up the chairs as they began placing the silverware. Using his extra arms, Angel quickly placed the plates down, before doing the same with the glass cups. 

Husk raised Nifty by the waist, allowing her to reach over the table and pour the different liquid contents into their respectable glasses. 

Strawberry milk for Sir. Pentious and his bois, water for Alastor, and chocolate milk for Vaggie and Charlie. Apple juice filled Lucifer’s cup, and your favorite drink was topped to the brim right next to his.

In front of you, two bowls of batter laid beside the stove you stood at. One was a dark brown, the other a much lighter shade. 

You had cleaned two ketchup bottles, before slowly pouring in the different batters and filling them full. Using the bottles, you’d make batter shapes on the pan, and use the lighter shade to fill in the lineart.  

Right now, you were attempting to make the outline of a duck—who would have thought?—for Lucifer. It was coming out surprisingly well, in your opinion. The lines were rather smooth, and the beak looked like a beak so all seemed good. 

You switched bottles, ready to begin filling in the pancake. Before you felt someone sidle up behind you, fingers grazed softly down your back with familiar warmth.

“What are you doing now?” Lucifer peeked from behind you, getting a glimpse of your work. You moved over slightly, inviting him in front of your cooking easel. 

“Take a guess,” you smiled next to him, “I figured you’d want something cute to start off your day.”

“Well, it seems you made it too cute to eat.” Lucifer pouted, as he stared at the little pancake. You laughed, reaching for a spatula and gripping the pan handle with the other hand. 

“And it’s too cute to let it get cold and then throw it away.” You spoke, lowering the spatula into the pan. You shimmied it underneath the pancake, before flipping it quickly. As it landed, the image of the duck became much clearer, the lines flat and smooth. 

“I’m just glad you love me enough to combine my two favorite things.” Lucifer smiled, before he nuzzled his cheek softly against yours. You moved your head slightly, letting your lips graze against his cheekbone. 

Looking down at the pancake, you lifted it slightly to check whether it was done. Seeing the golden-brown hue, you lifted the ban from the burner. Slowly, you slid the duck-cake onto the finished pile. 

There were two plates of hot, delicious pancakes. One was simply everyday pancakes, which Lucifer had made. Yours on the other hand were handcrafted  Each one was a unique shape. There was a smiley face, an octopus, a butterfly, a fish, and now, a duck. You smiled proudly at your creations. 

Picking up the plates of pancakes, the two of you walked towards the dining table. The egg bois were already seated, and the others were finishing up their tasks.

“Finally, let’s eat!” Vaggie called towards the group of demons slowly gathering around the table. Charlie picked up a few waffles from the stack, and placed them on a few plates. 

Vaggie appeared next to her, a small plate of french toast in her grip as she too began moving around the table. 

Alastor set a large, flat dish in the middle of the table. Small toothpicks stuck out of the bacon wraps, steam wafting slowly from the interior. Nifty reached out and grabbed one, placing it on her plate.

You turned towards the pile of pancakes, grabbing a spatula to begin setting them on a separate plate before Lucifer slid beside you, watching your movements.

“I’ve got this, Darling. You go sit down.” He nudged you away from the plates, towards the table. You sent him a warm smile, before turning and taking a seat next to Sir. Pentious and Husk. 

“Saved a seat for me, did’ya?” Angel Dust smiled at Husk, before plopping down into the seat next to him. He had a large fruit bowl, a multitude of sliced colorful produce nestled together.

“Only because you’d bitch if I didn’t,” Husk replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he drank from his glass. To be honest, this was the first time you saw Husk take a sip of something that wasn’t alcohol. 

Charlie lowered the large plate of remaining waffles onto the table, before brushing her hands against her apron and walking to her own seat.

“Dig in, everyone!” she exclaimed, her smile infectious as she served herself a stack of french toast.

Nifty’s eyes widened in delight as she took a bite of the bacon wrap, while Sir Pentious marveled at the designs of your handcrafted pancakes.

“Here you go, little lady.” Lucifer bowed slightly to Nifty, setting down the steaming tower of pancakes in front of her. She clapped her hands with giddy, before turning to Lucifer and giving him a pat on the cheek.

“Good boy.” She teased, before bursting into giggles.

Lucifer’s smile faltered, and he leaned back. He chuckled nervously, backing away to grab more food. He quickly walked around the table, before setting waffles onto each of the eggs boi’s plates. They licked their lips hungrily, as they stared down at the delicacy in front of them. Lucifer stood up, a hand slowly reaching behind his back.

“A good friend of mine told me you boys fancy ice cream, is that right?” He looked at Frank, who nodded his shell rapidly. Lucifer grinned cheekily, as he pulled forth a large tub of vanilla ice cream.

“Well, good thing for you, nobody said you can’t mix a little dessert with breakfast once in a while.” 

The egg bois practically went berserk seeing the holy grail of yummy deliciousness. They vibrated happily in their seats as Lucifer scooped a large glob on top of each egg’s waffles. It began to slowly melt, running across the waffles surface like syrup. 

He stepped back, as the eggs began to devour the food on their plates. Mumbling a thanks through their full mouths as Lucifer strode away, grabbing pancakes for himself.

He sat down across from you, his eyes moving from the scene around him and then on to you. He stared at you for a moment, while you were busy stuffing your face with the food on your plate. After a moment, you met his gaze. 

“Food too hot, or something? You keep staring at me.” You teased, tilting your head at him.

“It’s just hard to tear my gaze away,” he spoke, “when there is something much more delicious in front of me than the pancakes on my plate.” 

Your cheeks heated, and you averted your gaze, reaching out to grab a bacon wrap. You twisted the toothpick between your fingers, and inhaled the scent as it wafted from the small bundle.

It wasn’t too bad, and you were about to take a nibble before you saw Lucifer’s watery eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he only sniffled in response.

“You’re going to eat his wraps before you eat my pancakes?” He pouted, lowering his head in mock-defeat. Rolling your eyes playfully, you took a fork and cut a small piece of pancake from the rest. Taking the bacon wrap, you stabbed the other end of the toothpick through the small square. 

Lifting the bacon-pancake duo to your lips, you pulled them from the toothpick with your teeth. You swirled it in your mouth, your eyes rolling back as the flavors burst on your tongue. 

When you looked back at Lucifer, he was staring intensely at you. A smirk playing on his lips, before he sighed dramatically. 

“Now what is it?”

“Nothing.. just thinking about how that could be me.” 

You burst out laughing when those words left his lips, shocked at his sudden bluntness. Sir Pentious turned to you, giving you a look of worry as you almost choked on your food. 

After a moment, you cleared your throat. You sent Lucifer a glare for almost killing you, and he only chuckled before turning his attention from you.

Charlie, who had been sitting a few chairs away, turned to you. She smiled warmly as she spoke, “thank you for helping us with this. I really liked your butterfly pancake!”

You returned the smile, nodding your head. “It was no problem at all, I think we all deserve to have a good meal surrounded by friends. It’s you who brought us all together, so thank you.”

Charlie blushed at your words, before turning her attention back to Vaggie. Who was talking to her about an idea regarding the hotel. 

You looked around the table, taking note of the smiling faces and cheerful conversation. Alastor was helping Nifty cut some of her pancakes, his precise strikes with the knife seemed familiar to that of cutting steaks.

Sir Pentious was handing his eggs each a piece of french toast, helping them drown it in syrup as they sat there happily. Slight traces of ice cream still around their mouths.

Angel Dust and Husk were busy picking fruit from the bowl, with Angel making some kind of lude comment as he watched fruit juice dribble down Husk’s chin. Who only growled and playfully swatted at the spider-demon.

Your gaze stopped in front of you, resting on Lucifer. He had finished almost his entire plate, and now was resting his chin against his knuckles. His elbow rested against the table, and he shifted slightly to tilt his head at you. 

“Well, what do you think? Would you have preferred breakfast in bed?” He asked, taking another sip of his apple juice.

You shook your head, smiling at him. Contentedness spreads across your features as you let the food settle in your stomach. 

“No, I could get used to mornings like this,” you spoke softly. 

Lucifer nodded, his fingers reaching out to graze yours. You laced your index finger with his, and tapped his knuckles softly. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

who doesn’t enjoy some fluff about cooking with your lover? just pure fluff today, but i hope you guys enjoyed this! :)

sorry about that long wait, forgive me 🙏

taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @kottenox

[controld3vil]

atreides and bene gesserit

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic), austin butler x actor!reader

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: as clueless as you were about your sister's role, it brought you much surprise and joy to see her on the same carpet as you.

notes: reader uses fem pronouns as she's playing a role as a bene gesserit. reader is also described as wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit. and i really enjoyed lea seydoux's performance and hope to see more of it !! this is also COMPLETELY separate from the first two posts ive made since the readers r playing different characters yeah?

When Denise Villeneuve asked you about the role of Lady Margot Fenring, you were genuinely shocked about his decision. You appreciated his works but have never gotten close to any of his sets before. You have worked with directors who've admired Villeneuve for his imaginative mind. And now, you witnessed his creativity in person for the first time.

The role was small and not as significant as the other main leads. Regardless, your character was just as enigmatic and complex as any other in the Dune franchise. Even though your time was short, it was a fun experience to learn and observe from. You weren't able to meet the entire cast after production, but with the NYC premiere, you were able to link up again.

You heard your name being called out. "Hello! How are you?" The well-known comedian and presenter by the name of Amelia Dimonberg was now beside you. In her jet-black corset dress, her style is chic and elegant. She hands you a microphone with the film's title plastered on it. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you!" you sweetly recuperate, diverting your shoulders to the sight, cutely. You give a little pose before complimenting her own outfit. "You as well!"

"Do you have a memorable day on set that sticks out to you?" Amelia questions, subtly leaning toward your direction. And now you noticed her detailed eye makeup which enhances her outfit altogether.

"Well- I've had, like, only a few days," You let out a quick sigh. Truly it was nothing to be embarrassed about but you could not help but feel shy about it.

"Mmhmm! So all of them?"

"Yeah, all of them!" With ease, your shyness turns into giddy laughter as all you remember from your times on set. Recalling those tiny moments brought a small smile to your face. "Every day counted for me and that was enough."

"Oh absolutely!" Amelia chides, nodding in agreement. She quickly then moves onto the next question, "How long do you think you could last in the actual desert?"

"Oo that's a tough question," Lifting your fingers to rest on your chin as you try to contemplate an answer. "Ideally no- I feel like I could never recover from the heat."

"Yes yes, the heat's very intense,"

"Yeah- no I don't think I'd ever leave my house for that-" You shake your head nonchalantly, acknowledging how most of your scenes already were indoors. You could imagine how you would do in the desert of Abu Dhabi. It makes you appreciate the cast and crew even more for their effort to make filming more comforting and tolerable.

"Where would be your dream location to hang out? I'm assuming your home then since you prefer to say inside?" The blonde interviewer quickly catches on, eyebrows raising intrigued by your response.

Instead, you hummed bashfully, "Actually I think an oasis would be nice." The camera catches onto Amelia's face, fully fixated on you. "Which fits perfectly if I were to live in the desert actually!"

"Mm yeah, smart choice!" She responds more cheerily. "You can maybe go for a swim, you know-"

"Right right," You give her an playful look, "And you don't have to go thirsty!"'

"Absolutely, the best of both worlds," Amelia chirps, doing the same expression. "So this film centers a lot around dreams. Do you have vivid dreams of yourself?"

"Yes! I've uh- I've had many dreams of myself. I mean, this one, for example-" You turn to the camera, waving with the most adorable smile on your face. "'I'm living my dream right now!"

"You're living your dream right now!"

In another section of the premiere, you were walking down the carpet for press interviews and photography. The set where the premiere was taking place was gorgeously made in the shades of black and orange, the perfect theme of the film. The entire venue was outdoors, allowing you to feel the cold air and be more at ease in the crowded space. There were more paparazzi than you had expected, and you suddenly became aware that you were alone. Without any friend or acquaintance to accompany by, you searched aimlessly for a familiar face.

Then there was a holler. And then multiple more came after, it made you confused really. Your head swerves to the sound of the person you so try to look for and immediately you're struck in awe.

"Anya?!" In an instant, you're seen running towards your sister in the far back of the premiere wall. People were reluctantly used to fast-paced relocations around the carpet. Therefore most did not mind your hasty stumbles through the crowd. It was almost comical how apparent your demeanor changed when you heard her, in fact, videos and pictures caught all of it.

"Hi!" She beams in her white dress robe. Her makeup was glowing, making her skin seem angelic, and sheer without impurities. Her outfit covers her like a nun, covering her head and body in almost transparent cloth. Yet it flows around her so elegantly, almost like she was an angel from the stars. She squeezes your figure firmly, only after releasing to gush about your appearance.

You adored a beige sleeveless jumpsuit. The color is complimented with tiny designs of sparkle. Its seams captured your figure perfectly, as you also wore a gold chain and bulky rings. From the lighting, it looks as though your outfit is shining. And to be completely honest, you prefer comfort over the judging looks of fashion critics. Therefore you wanted to wear something that you could still move comfortably in. Thus you were able to run over to your sister with ease.

Through the other lens and camera, they could pick up some of her words after. "You look so gorgeous! How are you here?!" Anya's expression changes into a perplexed one as she gets a hold of your shoulders, shaking them back and forth.

"I was invited obviously, "You said, mimicking her voice while holding onto her arms on yours. "You didn't tell me you were a part of Dune!" Viewers from afar could tell you were pushing an act, reacting as though you were petrified about how Anya managed to be here in the first place.

"I didn't know you were either!" She giggled, closing in on your right ear. Your sister whispers to you slowly, trying to withdraw from the camera and recordings. "Villeneuve had mentioned something but honestly I just thought it was a joke."

It was your turn to guff. Your mouth opens wide flabbergasted, looking sarcastically offended. "Why would you think he's joking?!"

Anya scoffs lightly, wanting to go further with the joke. "I don't know- I just didn't take his word seriously,"

"Why? Because you didn't think I'd make it into the film?" You accused, eyes widening with a hand over your heart. "You're so cruel."

"So cruel," She smirks up at you, then moves back to be by your side. You see her face forward the flashing cameras, as you do the same. "Come! Let's take some pictures!"

"Your outfit looks beautiful by the way!" Anya Taylor muses, eyeing down at the fine details on your jumpsuit. "It's very... you!"

You give her a nod, before flattening some of the creases, "I thought this color was so exquisite, so I thought it would be perfect for the premiere." You lift your head to look at your sister, before realizing behind her, the upcoming stars of the film were getting ready to take cast photos. "Oh Anya- I think you should go!"

Your sister turns and then gazes back at you with a soft smile. "You should come with me!"

The thunder of cameramen and journalist blurred your focus for a moment. "Are you sure-"

Again the sound of your name is hurdled but this time from someone you haven't seen in a long time. Jessica Ferguson, who too wears a black body suit with veils and bold makeup. She waves her hand almost too eagerly to have you come closer alongside your sister. "Come, join us!"

Videos were filmed of the people gesturing to the cast of Dune in a line. Little by little, the row of people is filled and organized to be in the center of the camera's focus. Some actors had to move spots, due to lack of space or better color semblance on the other side of the row. You stood next to Jessica and Florence Pugh was beside your right, as you tried to stand closer for the picture.

Anya Taylor was on the opposite side, with Austin Butler and beside him, Timothee Chalamet. A noticeable clip taken all over was when the French actor went to greet the English actress, warmly, clasping her hand with both hands as a proper salute as on-screen siblings.

You did not mind the lack of attention. You were happy for Anya for achieving a great role. One with a welcoming cast and crew. It was then your eyes scanned down the row, from Zendaya to Stellan Skarsgard. Then to Austin, whom you've been familiar with since day one. Only him to find your gaze seconds later. You give a little nod and smile before averting your direction to Anya who is already staring at you with gleaming eyes.

You were going back and forth with Jessica and Florence on your travels for a while. From plans reception to favorite desserts, all you three wanted to talk about was food. Paparazzi caught onto your banter quickly and snapped a few photos. You even went out of your way to do silly poses. Followed by Jessica and Florence, then did the same, sticking their tongues out in a rock star kind of fashion. You throw out piece signs, giving a dramatic frown as another flash happens.

Catch-ups were definitely refreshing and fun. Thus why you nearly jump when Austin appeared behind you.

"Oh my gosh, hey!" You stuttered, giving him a quick hug to calm your nerves. "You scared me!"

"Sorry sorry! I just wanted to surprise you!" He leans his head slightly, allowing better eye contact. You felt a few taps on your shoulder and noticed Jessica and Florence scurrying away, with their thumbs up, all goofy and excited.

Your eyes make it back to his. "I would've said hi back at the cast photo, but you were so far away," Shrugging you dismiss your failure as a mild missed opportunity.

But Austin shakes his head in an averted manner. "No- Don't worry about it." You could already sense interviewers and others with microphones closing on you two. You were out in the open, and it's bound to happen. "I wanted to- you know, say hi to you in a less chaotic place."

"I tried looking for you but there's just so many people," You give your costar an exhausted look. It was then a keen young man approached the pair of you. It was the People magazine, as you became aware of the logo alongside their camera and microphone.

"Hey, would you two mind a short interview for People's magazine?"

Truly, this was what premieres were about. The cast and crew meet with fans to show what they have worked so hard for. You brought you no better satisfaction than to praise everyone's efforts. The interviewer then proceeded to have a quick introduction of you and Austin beside you. You both had separate microphones in each hand. Once the video started rolling, you peered at the camera and gave the audience a grin.

"So how are you guys doing? Met all of your lovely cast members yet?"

"Oh absolutely," You emphasized every syllable, nodding. Austin only glances at you in amusement. "It's crazy how many people are here I was so overwhelmed!"

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded," The male actor adds, lowering his microphone slightly.

"Hopefully it will die down!" The interviewer beams. "So what was it like getting to know each other in this film? How was the first day on set like?"

"Oh, well it went very smoothly," You start, staring up at Austin in approval. "Even though my time was short on set, I feel like we had a pretty good rhythm starting out."

"I was about to say! The scenes with Feyd and Lady Margot were really something!"

"Why thank you, we appreciate it," Austin nervously laughs, scratching his ear.

The interviewer takes the lead to discuss your preparation for the role and how it was working with Villeneuve. As new characters, you and Austin both talked about your views on both of your characters. Both are very different yet mysterious to the viewers. Additionally, you two were introduced in a similar scene of the pit fight. The People's Magazine interviewer was compelled to compliment Austin on his opening scene. You knew he had practiced the choreographed fights vigorously. And of which you were lucky to witness on the days that you were present.

"It was completely freeing and different than what I was used to doing," Austin probes, leaning toward your direction. "Were you there for the pit fight?"

"I think I was," You turn, similarly. "I remember watching from afar and thinking wow." Immediately you could sense him eagerly looking down at you with a sly smile. "He was- Austin did amazing with the fight choreography, I was impressed!"

"Was this the first time seeing him in full costume too?"

"Oh yes!" You bonked your hand on your forehead, "He was and I just- couldn't believe it was him!"

Suddenly Austin jumps in, "She was startled when I first came up to her in full costume."

"You came out of nowhere, by the way!" You rebutted, giving him a side glance.

"I didn't mean to," As he tries to reassure his actions, "I wanted to give a good first impression!" It was humorous how playful you two were together despite having dissimilar filming schedules. Though most of your scenes involved Butler, your friendship only became more apparent weeks after working together. It was off and on for months at a time due to being busy in other countries simultaneously.

Eventually, you were able to link up again weeks before the premiere. After waiting a long time to meet up, you almost felt relieved that you hadn't seen your costar in a while.

"And Austin, how was filming with her?! From a character's standpoint, what kind of dynamic do you see playing out?" The People's Magazine interviewer perks up, having the camera transition from his face to Austin's.

"Well I'd say, she's great. You know I've got to meet a lot of amazing people in this film. And," He says your name sincerely, "She's- she's one of those people. I can't say much for Lady Margot and Feyd's relationship- you know there's a lot of that's still not uncovered. We don't really know what's happening but kind of have an idea of something. And to have such a great actress like her, it makes everything feel authentic and- feel the tension." It felt as if you were in a daze, eyes completely focused on his words with such admiration and grace. Before you knew it, you were smiling as if you had won the best possible prize in the world. His compliments to you meant more than you had anticipated really.

Unbeknownst to you, the cameraman had caught your lovestruck expression before directing attention back to the interviewer. "And how about you, Miss Margot?"

"I'd say it's the same," Now looking at the interviewer, only momentarily back at your costar. "Austin's- he's great at all the stunts and acting like a scary dude. Every scene with him was fun to do. Like he's all serious in character but once they yell cut! he's so nice and funny!" Your bubbly laugh breaks as you can feel your face growing hot.

"Well I appreciate you liking my humor," Austin pokes fun at you, fanning a little air towards you.

You mutter a soft thank you! before continuing, "And he's dedicated you know? I remember one scene, a little spoiler, where Feyd is about to be tested by Lady Margot, and I just couldn't do it! I couldn't keep a straight face!"

"Really?!"

"She just kept breaking, I don't know why," The actor shrugs, his attention closely drawn to you. "We had a few takes on a few days."

"We did! We did!" You gave a big frown, "You just have a really distracting face."

"Do I?" Austin asks, between the lines of teasing and coolly.

By the time, other premieres had occurred, people were still focused on your interactions with Austin Butler. Your chemistry on and off screen on the carpet was hilarious. And with how polarizing your characters were, it made many clips of your shared encounters gain attention.

A few short videos were recorded after the People Magazine interview of you and Austin, bashfully talking behind the stage. The two of you went back and forth whispering in each other's ears about what was unknown to the viewer. Through a bird's eye view, the video also catches you hugging your arms before zooming in on Austin's placing an arm around your figure.

Another clip that had been reposted many times was when you both took duo pictures together. As you comfortably shift your weight on one leg, as you turn to have your side face the flashing paparazzi. Whilst the Elvis actor stands beside you at a pleasant distance, doing the same pose to the other side. There was one instance where you lifted your head to make eye contact with your eyes instantly brightening. As Austin's smile widened, only to blow air in your face.

[elleloquently]

could you do maybe something where ellie and reader knew each other from the boston QZ, and then they end up seeing each other again years later?? could genuinely just be a paragraph or headcanons if that’s what you’re feeling (writers block sucks) but you’re so good at describing things so i wanna see your POV with this 😭

| a/n : ur an angel for being so understanding. this is short n lowkey vague but i genuinely had fun with this so thank you for suggesting it!! <3 | c/w : swearing. mentions of weapons but no violence

half return - ellie williams

your eyes looked the same as they did when you were thirteen.

or, it would've been fourteen, the last time you had actually seen each other. but that had been a weird year, hadn't it?

still. your eyes were the same.

wide. thoughtful, but maybe that wasn't a good enough word to describe the look in your eyes now. bewildered was probably it, mixed with disbelief.

after all of these years, ellie would have to assume that there would be a sense of hardness to you. maybe something firm in your gaze, evidence of your life, whatever that had turned out to be.

instead, there was a certain softness to your expression. beneath the disbelief, beneath the shock. something soft, something so inexplicably you.

it made ellie sure, without a doubt, it was you. it had to be, right?

you were looking at ellie like you couldn't figure it out, couldn't decide whether or not the sight in front of you was real, and.. yeah.

it was you.

"holy shit," ellie breathed out, her words nearly inaudible.

her words, simple and quiet, snapped you out of your daze.

ellie's tone was nearly the same, just a little more mature sounding. you were transported instantly, back to when you were practically kids. ellie's voice would rise in defensiveness, arguing against riley in favor of her music taste, denying the claim that it was shitty. the sound of her now, so familiar and so different, filled the pit of your stomach with a strange ache.

your grip on the gun had faltered a little at the sight of her. you tightened it now, only to rid your fingers of their tremble. you wanted to speak, to say anything, but you still weren't exactly processing the sight in front of you.

apparently, you were still horrible at keeping your facial expressions at bay.

ellie caught it, the moment in which you had nearly stepped forward, your lips almost moving. but you had seemingly decided against it. you both remained still, eye contact never wavering. you were a few feet apart, and it was the closest you had been in years.

the sky was gray and overcast. evidence either of the rainstorm that had previously hit, or the hint of another soon to come. if you didn't move soon, surely you would be caught in it. everything always seemed to happen so fast, but time stood still now. it had only been a matter of seconds, but those seconds were weighted, dragging on with each passing moment.

ellie found herself wanting to hear your voice. she had forgotten it, except for a few vivid memories that lived in her mind. she found herself desperately needing to find out if it was the same voice that echoed occasionally in her mind, or if it sounded different entirely.

ellie's eyebrows knitted together, the crease of tension becoming apparent upon her features. as her gaze darted over your face, ellie felt guilty for writing you off.

but boston had been a shithole. and besides, ellie had cared about you. why wouldn't you be dead? another memory planted in her mental graveyard, the lingering whispers that only ever seemed to reach the depths of her dreams on the worst nights. any traces of you were always gone by morning.

but now.

now.

had ellie finally gone crazy? sometimes, maybe, she heard joel's voice. acknowledging it felt... weird. but she did.

but this? had she lost it? lost herself entirely?

it didn't make sense for you to be here. here, of all places. now. after all of these years.

ellie shook her head slightly, attempting to get a grip on her thoughts. she held her gun firmly, but it wasn't exactly pointed at you anymore. her free hand slowly raised, her palm displayed in an unsteady defensive. it was nearly muscle memory, but ellie was uncertain.

you both felt as though you were staring at a ghost.

"ellie?" you finally spoke, her name tumbling from your lips so easily despite not having uttered it in years.

ellie's stomach lurched, her eyes widening imperceptibly as you took a tentative step forward. she felt sick. unable to make sense of it, her name wrapped up in your voice felt terrifying all of a sudden, a reminder of who she used to be, a sharp pain of the past gnawing at her like a pit in her stomach.

her gaze followed your movements, but ellie otherwise felt frozen. the expression on your face was plain as day, but ellie still struggled to read it. no longer a young teenager, but she remained a little clueless, hopeless even at the obvious. she couldn't help it, though, her mind racing and blaring like confusing alarm bells in her head.

ellie had brutally lost the person in which she arguably cared the most about, and now you were standing there, a goddamn blast from the past. ellie could not comprehend it. how did you even end up here?

another small step forward, and you couldn't decide between keeping your weapon raised or discarding it entirely. it was ellie, after all. but she was a stranger now.

to anyone else, the situation might look like a standoff. ellie was painfully aware of the seconds ticking by, knowing they most likely wouldn't be alone for much longer. the others would catch up, ready to defend, ready to fight.

ellie found the phrase bouncing around her head already, ready to roll off the tip of her tongue in a panic.

not a threat. not a threat, not a threat.

because you weren't. you couldn't be, right?

"i thought... i thought you were-"

you cut yourself off with a sharp inhale that nearly feels dizzying. you thought ellie had been dead. or whisked away, running off to join the fireflies after all, ending up... who knows where. because one day, ellie had been gone. and for a long time, you had driven your young mind crazy trying to consider the possibilities, to make sense of the why.

"you're... it's.. i didn't-" ellie attempts, her voice nearly failing her.

the hand holding your gun falls to your side, and ellie nearly doubles over. she doesn't, though, and feels as though her knees lock her into place instead.

ellie's hair was a bit shorter. she didn't wear it in a ponytail anymore, apparently. but half of her hair was still pulled back. the same stubborn strands of hair still seemed to fall into her face.

you had missed her. you never wanted her to be dead. but you could never come to terms with the fact that she had left you, either. the only best friend you had ever really had.

ellie's gun was down now, and she looked like she wanted to move forward, but didn't know how. you took the liberty instead, your steps slow and hesitant before turning more brisk.

"oh my god," you managed, your words slightly hushed and strained.

the sight of you moving towards her caused ellie's stomach to flip. maybe it was finally hitting her, the distance between you closing with each step. ellie watched, frozen, the fingers from her free hand twitching at her side.

you were wary, but a million other things, too.

you stopped once you were just a few steps away from her.

ellie nearly looked exactly the same. just older. more tired. new scars. but you could see her, through her microexpressions, in the way that her eyes remained carefully trained on your own. you realized suddenly, that you didn't have it in you to treat her like a stranger, even though she essentially was one. you didn't have it in you to keep on guard.

it was ellie. your ellie.

you knew her best of all.

and you had so much to learn about her.

[bokutosmochi]

THE RETURN OF THE KINGS ♡ GOJO SATORU featuring adoptive son!fushiguro megumi

gojo satoru x fem!reader

ingredients? after weeks upon weeks of worrying about your boyfriend and your adoptive son's whereabouts, they finally come home.

what’s it? fluff

allergen warning/s? n/a

sugar level? 1.2k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork

parlor’s note? sorry i'm more than a few days late. i was a little busy then felt sick.

anyways

DADDY'S HOMEEEEEEEE

bon appetit

"c'mon, gimme a hug megs." the white haired sorcerer grinned at his adoptive child of sorts, only for the young boy to grimace, clearly not fond of the idea. "why do i have to do that?"

"i'll teleport us inside the apartment." was gojo's reply. he flashed his son an innocent grin and bat of his eyelashes.

"why don't we just open the door?" he grumbled.

if he was being honest with himself, he'd know exactly why gojo wanted a hug. he was stuck in the prison realm - a place where time does not pass - for nineteen days; but nineteen days that felt like eternity.

gojo simply missed megumi.

of course he missed gojo too. underneath sukuna's influence, he was relieved to see that gojo was okay once he was unsealed.

but gojo didn't need to know that in such detail. he's sure that a teary eyed and wavering voiced "i'm glad you're back." would be louder than if he had a long winded speech on the subject. it'd also be louder than a hug on their apartment's doorstep.

"it's one in the morning. your mom's sleeping. we might wake her if we open the door." she needs some sleep. knowing her, she hasn't been able to get a lot of those since you and i stopped updating her and replying to her texts.

and he'd be correct. you weren't a jujutsu sorcerer. you didn't even know much about sorcery as per gojo. all you knew was that it was a dangerous job and there's a big chance of your boyfriend and your son not coming back to you. that's why you wanted them to update you whenever they could; just so you have that assurance that they're still alive, but it's been a long time since you had that. gojo hasn't been able to text you since he got sealed, and megumi when sukuna took over his body.

you've been worried sick. losing sleep wondering if you lost your two favorite boys in the world at the same time.

"fine." megumi sighed. when he put it that way, it was hard to turn him down.

he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around gojo's midsection and in a flash, the both of them were in the safety of the apartment's living room.

"go change, then get some sleep. you've been through a lot."

that was what gojo did as well, damn near tearing up when he saw your resting figure in front of his eyes. this time, he was not dreaming, he was not imagining better days with you; this time, you were actually there in the flesh.

he laid in bed with as minimal movement as possible as to not disturb you, hugged you close to his chest and drifted off to sleep after pressing a much needed kiss to your forehead and burying his face into your hair.

***

you've had the best sleep of your life since satoru and megumi left for that mission in shibuya, though it may have something to do with your dream.

in this dream, it was like you had satoru in your arms, safe and sound. with how much you've been thinking about him and your son, you have had these dreams frequently, but there's something different about this one.

it's much more vivid. it was like you could smell him under your nose. the scent that's musky and sweet and clean; that scent that reminds you of home. you could feel him, the smoothness of his skin, the temperature of him, the feeling of his tight black shirt. you could hear his soft breathing, calm, deep, and utterly relaxed. and you could see him in crystal clear hd. every faint freckle and mole he had on his face, his exposed neck and collarbones. you remembered him like you've been staring at him unceasingly for the last year, like he never left, and you were to retain every single one of his features.

only he was there. your eyes widened when you realized that fact. it wasn't a dream.

"oh my god," you murmured, running a gentle hand through his messy, battle-tossee hair, making sure to not wake him, then his rosy cheeks, then his plump lips, as if you were making sure that he's actually there and you aren't hallucinating him.

and he is. my god, he is. you tenderly kissed his forehead before carefully slipping out of his arms. after all, you were missing two boys.

you opened the door, not bothering to close it since you'd be returning to the room in a few minutes. you just had to make sure than your two men were there.

you slowly turned the knob to megumi's room, your heart swelling in your chesy when you saw the black haired sorcerer laying on his bed, face without the tension that you've always been worried were glued to his features.

you padded over to him, doing the same thing as you did to satoru. brushing the hair from his face and kissing his forehead.

"get some sleep, megs."

when he recovers as best as he can from whatever horrors he has faced in the last month, you'll be sure to treat him and take him somewhere he wants to be -- like a museum or aquarium, if he wanted. and satoru too, of course.

satoru who had a pout on his lips right behind you.

you almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise, but you were able to recover quickly and throw yourself into his waiting arms.

his touch not leaving you, he dragged you out of your son's bedroom and into yours.

"why'd you leave me?" he crossed his arms on his chest and furrowed his eyebrows making you laugh.

you missed his clinginess, his shenanigans so much.

you cradled his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. when you pulled away, you didn't leave an inch of space between you. a mere centimeter would be more accurate. "i'm sorry. wanted to check in on megumi too."

despite satoru's unaccepting hmph! he still leaned in to kiss you, pulling away a microscopic amount. "you could've just checked in on him later."

you pecked his lips again, keeping the same amount of distance as you did earlier; not a lot. "i wanted to check on him while you were still sleeping."

following the pattern established, he kissed you fleetingly again before speaking. "do i look like i'm asleep to you?"

surrendering, you laughed. it was music to satoru's ears, especially now he's gone so long without hearing it. "i guess you're right, i'm sorry."

satoru pulled you in tight so you were chest to chest, not even the thinnest piece of paper could get in between the two of you, yet for some reason, you and your boyfriend thought it was not close enough.

"you should be. i'm expecting a million kisses to even begin to make it up to me."

you smiled into his chest.

"however many you want."

satoru sighed contentedly.

"i missed you."

"i missed you too."

i get: reblog

you get: more DADDY'S HOMEEEEEE tiktoks

[an-au-blog]

Artist Usopp who has the most vivid dreams of Sanji ever since he can remember, this mysterious blond growing alongside him in the unconscious world. So he grows up, goes to art school, gets his degree, and starts the path of a starving artist. Not a lot of people buy his art, but he keeps making it. He never liked showing the overwhelmingly large collection of sketches, paintings, 3D prints, carvings, clay figurines, literally anything he could make of Sanji. It felt too personal to show anyone, but people would inevitably see them, as he can't stop doodling the man. They keep saying that's what he should be promoting as his work and how people would pay big money for those, but he always doubted it.

A time came where he could feel the "starving artist" title a bit too literally. With regret, he took his friend's advice and sold a painting to some random guy. The man came back with a friend - lover of the arts and before Usopp knew it, he was selling the blond of his dreams to collectors and museums. He started making marble sculptures, now that he could afford it, like the blond was a greek god, an angel sent to feed him in his most desperate times. Usopp knew such a man didn't exist, but it was nice to have him in his dreams at least.

Well... that was until one day Luffy sent him a video. One of those memes where people went to galleries and posed with victorian portraits that looked like them. He captioned it with "lol rly thought it was him for a sec". Usopp thought this would be another video forgotten in the waves of spam Luffy liked to send, but as the different people went by, suddenly, Usopp felt cold sweat down his back. It was the blond. He looked exactly like the man in his dreams... no. that was the same man. He was absolutely sure of it. He had been drawing and studying that face, those hands, the colors and curves all his life. That was him!

He desperately tried finding him, but all he had was a private page and that was it. He couldn't get any clue as to who he was from the user name "LetHimCook" or the bio saying he was 21 and a rat and a cheff's hat emoji.

Usopp gave up hope for the time being as he was supposed to finish a project that was the biggest in his career so far.

The day to present it had come and Usopp stood there, nervous, talking about his art while snobbish-looking people hummed as if they understood anything about his life's work. Some of the asked questions that he absentmindedly answered, but then someone from the back, who Usopp couldn't see asked something that caught his attention.

"I have two questions if I may. Firstly, who is the inspiration to this "dream" collection? It seems to be more about a lover than actual dreams. And secondly, have you ever considered doing an auto portrait?"

The two unrelated questions caught him off guard, and he didn't know how to say anything about the first one without sounding insane, or the second - without sounding depressed.

"Uhm, interesting questions." Usopp cleared his throat. "You see, uh..." he tried finding the words but they died on his tongue when the asker came into view. It was him. "It's you." He said accidentally out loud.

"I beg your pardon?"

They look at each other for a long second. Usopp couldn't tear his eyes away from the blue haunting his every day and night. "Sorry, I- I didn't answer your uh-" Usopp stuttered, trying to keep any semblance of dignity he could. "I don't like doing self portraits, I've made a few but the model kind of sucks." The people laughed with him but the blond only gave a small smile.

"I would love to see them some time, as I'm sure I'm not the only one."

How could this man leave him speechless every time.

After the Q&A bit was over, Usopp tried his best to avoid small talk from the guests so he could get to the blond before he left. But by the time he got there, Sanji was talking to someone, it would have been extremely awkward to join in.

"Hey, Usopp!" The man who was talking to Sanji turned, and oh God it was Luffy.

The artist didn't know if he should be happy or a bit scared. Luffy dragged Usopp into the conversation and it started flowing quite easily. It was not long before Luffy left to see another friend of his but his absence didn't make it uncomfortable. Usopp learned the man's name, that he loved to cook and that he had been a fan of his work for a while.

Agreeing that Sanji would get a "private tour" or the rest of Usopps (not displayed works), the "party" ends.

On their way home, Luffy hits him with a "It was so funny seeing that guy flirt with you all night."

Usopp, stopping dead in his tracks: Who?

Luffy: Blond guy who kinda looks like your obsession drawings...

Usopp malfunctioning: .......... oh...... . .. . . ... OH!

When they finally arrange a date for the "private tour", Usopp keeps an open mind, trying to see if he really WAS flirting. But then they get to the half-assed self portraits Usopp made of himself and, honestly - Usopp never wanted to show them. He wasn't all that good-looking, he didn't like how they turned out, he hadn't put in any effort and most of them were more reminiscent of grotesque caricatures than the usual realistic beauty he was used to painting.

"They're not really - I mean I mostly made them out of boredom, I- I don't really like them and- and-" He tried to excuse himself, but when he looked at Sanji, he lost all his words. The blond was looking at the paintings and sketches with such awe and sympathy. He reached out to the painted face, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the surface.

He looked back at Usopp, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

"You're far too mean to yourself." Sanji said, faint, barely audible. His eyes widened slightly as the words escaped his lips as if he didn't mean to let them slip.

On instinct, the deep-rooted self-loading Usopp had harboured all these years bubbled just the slightest. "Haha, or maybe not enough."

But then Sanji turned to him seriously, lips in a thin line, a bit hurt. "In... in an interview you once said you're glad the public liked your art, because you wouldn't bare sharing a piece of your soul and seeing anyone insult the man who's haunted your dreams." A stuttering breath. "So, I'd like to request you don't insult the man from mine..."

Oh...

[avatarmerida]

Begin Again

Huntlow fanfic. Bonus points if you can guess the inspo. 💚💛

-

She looked different but so did he. Well, not different, he just looked the way he used to look. His hair, his face, his clothes showed that he suddenly found himself months in the past, whether it was the result of time travel or a dream was unclear. Hunter could not summon a memory of what had been happening before this moment, it was like he had suddenly awoken but he just knew that this logically was not where he should be. But he had found her. Her glasses weren’t gold (and in his opinion didn’t compliment her eyes as well) and her hair was shorter, not quite long enough to pull into the braids she wore when they first met, but t it was undoubtedly Willow sitting at that lunch table talking to her plant as she scribbled notations in her notebook. The sight of her melted any fear or hesitation he would normally harbor in this moment.

“Hey!” He called, excited to see her as he practically sprinted over to her.

“Oh, uh hi?” She said, welcoming but obviously confused. It confirmed that she did not know him. He intended to change that, giddy at the opportunity for a second chance at a first impression even if it might not be real.

“Is uh, anyone sitting here?” He asked, gesturing to the seat beside her.

“Oh, uh no,” she said, understanding. “You can take the chair if you need it, let me just-.”

“Oh, no I uh meant uh,” his nerve almost escaped him as she looked up at him with wide attentive eyes. “Would it be okay if I sat there? Here? With you?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” she said, moving the large plant off the chair and onto the table. “I mean, as long as you’re okay with a centerpiece.”

“I’m more than okay with it,” he said with a laugh, sitting beside her. “It’s rather impressive, how long have you been growing it for?”

“Oh, just a few weeks,” she said, flushing out the vivid, bright green leaves that cascaded in every direction. “I just switched to the plant track so I finally have access to the good dirt this species likes. But it’s due to blossom any day now and I wanna be there the moment it does. I know it’s probably a little silly to carry it everywhere but I-.”

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he said quickly. He remembered Willow telling her about this plant and how it had bloomed during a test and she had nearly gotten detention for how loud she gasped in excitement. “I bet it feels… special.”

She beamed. “Thank you,” she said softly, quickly turning her attention back to her lunch as she tried to suppress the small blush that crept into her cheeks. “I was kind of hoping it would. But that’s probably actually silly though, right? I mean I know plants don’t technically have feelings but-.”

“Well, plants can respond to sounds and touch so they can definitely feel your presence,” said Hunter, remembering a conversation they had one late night messaging. “I think they have feelings, just maybe not in the same way that we do.”

“Yeah,” Willow chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m… I’m always saying that actually, heh. Oh, um, I’m Willow by the way.” She extended her hand to shake his, tilting her head and offering him a gentle smile that made Hunter’s heart melt.

But it always did.

“Hunter.” he said, taking her hand with a lopsided smile of his own.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Hunter,” she said. “Are you a new student?”

“Um, well not exactly?” He said, not sure what his technical role was or what version of himself had landed here.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said quickly, her voice flooding with guilt. “I guess I mean I just haven’t seen you around before! If it makes you feel better, a lot of people don’t notice me either! N-not that you’re not noticeable! I just mean it’s a big school, and we’re on different tracks, but I promise you’re very noticeable! I don’t mean that in a bad way, not that I would, but I mean it like-.”

“Oh, no!” He cut her off, not wanting to start things with a misunderstanding. “No, I just meant I uh… well, I went here awhile ago but then I went back to… being homeschooled and I just transferred back,” he said, summarizing things as best he could without confusing her more with whatever was actually happening. “But I wasn’t here long enough the first time to really make an impression.”

Willow smiled, grateful to see she hadn’t totally blown it. “Well, let’s hope this time is different,” she said brightly. “I mean, about being here longer. If you want. Not that you don’t have to make an impression, but I mean-.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’m excited to be back too.”

She offered him a sweet smile of relief that made any tenseness he harbored vanish. Even if he wasn’t sure where this dream was going, he couldn't help but feel safe near her.

“Hey Willow, who’s this guy and why are you holding hands?” Gus asked from beside them, holding his tray of food. They both looked over at the same time, not realizing they had never ended their introductory handshake, which had at some point turned stationary.

“Oh, Augustus! Hi!” Willow said sweetly as she slowly pulled her hand back. “This is Hunter! He just transferred back!”

“Potions track, huh?” Said Gus as he took a seat across from them. “That’s cool, maybe you can help me figure out how to make my potions homework not taste like old socks.”

“Did you try enchanting the straw?” Hunter offered, remembering the solution Gus had offered him when he stayed at his house and they had tried to make a human realm beverage but it had ended up far too sour.

Gus’ eyes widened, highly impressed. “What?! Dude, that’s genius!” Gus gushed. “Willow, I approve of new friend,I declare he is officially smart enough to sit with us.”

Willow giggled before looking back at Hunter (or maybe she had never stopped?). “I promise he means it as a compliment.”

“I know,” Hunter chuckled. “I won’t say he’s wrong, as long as you won’t say he’s wrong for calling us friends.”

“Dang, new guy is smooth,” Gus whispered to Willow, only half caring if Hunter heard him. Willow bit her lip,and even though Hunter knew she did not know him but somehow felt that she could tell he did not talk this way to everyone.

“Deal,” said Willow with a grin and nod, and Hunter was over the moon with how pleased she looked. She took a sip of her juice box. “So Hunter, how are you liking Hexside so far?”

“It’s been… interesting,” said Hunter, unable to help but feel like he would wake up at any moment. “But it’s getting better.”

“Do you remember your way around okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, if you want we can show you around,” added Gus. “Not to brag, but we know all the shortcuts and the best water fountains.”

“Sounds like a plan, Gus,” said Hunter.

“‘Gus?’” He repeated, intrigued. “A nickname? Already, new guy?”

“Oh uh yeah sorry,” Hunter chuckled, forgetting that Luz had mentioned she was the one who given him the nickname. Whatever dream or time travel had brought him her must not have included that detail yet. “It’s a nickname I heard they use in the human realm for your name so I guess I just-.”

“Woah! A human realm nickname? Are you also a human realm enthusiast?” Gus beamed.

“Oh, yeah! I guess I am!” Hunter declared. “I’ve read a lot of books about it. Actually, there’s a book series over there I really like if you have any interest in human literature.”

“Do I!” Gus exclaimed, summoning a happy face illusion to empathize his delight. “Do you have any plans for free period because the human appreciation society is having a meeting and you literally need to be there dude.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Willow smiled, her heart swirling seeing the boys hit it off and knowing her friend group was expanding. It seemed like such a natural fit.

“Do you have any plans after school?” Willow asked. “Gus and I were gonna do homework at my house and maybe watch a movie. I’d love it if you came! I-I mean, we’d like it. Heh.”

“Y-yeah! Yes,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “I’d like that too! Yeah, I mean I don’t have any after school activities yet.” A light went off in his mind. “I was actually hoping to join the flyer derby team, do you know if they already had tryouts?”

“Oh, Hexside doesn’t have a flyer derby team,” said Willow with a frown.

“I bet we have a grudgby team though, right?” Hunter scoffed.

“Yeah,” Willow groaned, rolling her eyes in exaggerated agreement. “People are just afraid that another sports team will take away from the grudgby budget. I mean, Titan forbid they don’t get new uniforms every season.”

“It’s like people don’t realize that flyer derby involves actual skill and strategy,” Hunter went on, easily falling back into the shared rant he and Willow had adopted. “Just because it’s not as well known as grudgby-.”

“-doesn’t mean it’s not as exciting.” They finished together, Willow joyfully stunned to hear her thoughts echoed.

She couldn’t help but beam. “Yes! Exactly, thank you!” She said with vigor. “You know, my dads actually met playing flyer derby. We used to play all the time.”

“I bet you’re really good,” Hunter said plainly.

Willow blushed. “Oh, well I don’t know-.”

“She is!” Gus stated, and Willow mimed that he should shush but he went on. “You are, Willow! Especially when you’re in the zone! And now that you’re finally on the plant track, I bet you can do some sick tricks with your vines!”

“When he says ‘sick’ he means ‘impressive,’ not ‘ill.’” Hunter explained with an assured smile, hoping to show his support. Willow and Gus looked at him skeptically.

“I know,” she chuckled, and she and Gus shared a small, amused look.

“Oh, yeah of course you do,” he chuckled nervously to himself. “I suppose… it might be obvious, but just in case…”

“Well, I actually have been thinking about starting a team,” Willow said shyly, tapping her plate. “More like daydreaming, if I’m being honest. I didn’t think there was any interest.”

“Well I’m very interested,” Hunter insisted with a chuckle.

“Oh I bet you are,” said Gus under his breath as he pretended to take a drink from his cup.

“I mean, it would be pretty cool,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I could do something like that. Not yet. Besides, who would join a team I started?”

“I would.” said Hunter.

“Oh,” Willow smiled, the blush coming back for another appearance. “Well, thanks. But maybe you should try and start one! I mean, it was your idea.”

Oh shoot, he definitely didn’t mean to steal her idea!

“We could do it together,” he suggested. “Be co-captains.”

“I mean, that could be fun…” Willow admitted.

“Wo-ah! Look at you, joining the plant track and starting extracurriculars! You’re really coming out of your shell, Park!” Gus exclaimed happily, sending a small collection of sparkle illusions above her head. “It’s the year of Willow!”

“Okay, okay,” Willow chuckled as she brushed the sparkles away. “Well, it does sound like a good idea. How about we talk about it more after school tomorrow?”

“I can’t wait.”

Willow and Gus quickly noticed he had neglected to bring a lunch and quickly offered him the highlights of theirs. They fell into a rhyme both new and familiar and Hunter was brought out of it for only a moment when he couldn’t remember if he was always able to taste things in his dreams.

-

Okay, meeting Willow and Gus earlier was not an uncommon dream for him to have. But not waking up shortly after realizing he was in a dream was. How odd it was to be aware of being in a dream. He knew this was his mind’s way of indulgence and wishful thinking but he knew at any moment things would be too good to be true or too hard to accept and the setting would collapse in on itself. There’d be a mixture of realities or a menacing shadow or something to interrupt his escape.

But he would enjoy the fantasized alternate reality as long as he was able to.

Time went by as it only does in dreams or times of safety, and he fell into a routine as though he had been his all along. That or he got lucky and every classroom he wandered into just so happened to be his next class. And when he stumbled into the library, of course the first table he saw had Willow there. She waved him over and they studied, another simple yet common occurrence in his dreams.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Willow giggled softly as she looked up from her book to see he had not even been glancing at his. The library felt like it was just them in the cozy corners Willow had secured, the rain outside pouring like a soft soundtrack.

“Like what?” Hunter asked, worried. He removed his head from his hand and adjusted his posture. “Is it bad? I mean, t-this is how I always look at you.”

“How can you ‘always’ look at me?” She giggled again. “We just met.”

“Right! Yes, I-I mean I guess I assume I look at you the way everyone else looks at you.”

“Ehh, I’m not sure if that’s true,” she countered as a faint blush graced her cheeks.

“Really? I’m sorry,” said Hunter, feeling his hand begin the sweat. “I’m sure it has something to do with my eyes, I’m sure they can’t be all that comforting.”

“No no, it’s nothing like that,” she assured him, placing her hand atop his. “I like the way you look at me.”

“Y-you do?”

She nodded.

“Oh, uh, good.” He said utterly relieved. “Because I like looking at you.”

He returned to the assignment, unaware of the starstruck look Willow offered him now.

After school he came home to a simple home that was a castle in its own right and Darius greeted him with a smile that lacked any sarcasm or secrets and asked him about his day. The mantle held pictures of memories had had no other way of holding besides in the carefully picked frames, showing him smiling at various ages holding things he had made or earned or just found interesting. It wasn't overly detailed, but he could tell he had wandered into a version of him that had never questioned that he was wanted. But just as he began to piece things together over the most extravagant home cooked meal he had ever had (Darius could cook???), night came all too quickly and apparently his guardian was very strict about curfew and beauty sleep.

He dreaded turning in for the night as he was never able to fall asleep in a dream and continue it. He knew he’d be waking up soon, which was a shame because this was some impressive and detailed world building. He was cozy and eager to see more but maybe he’d be allowed to revisit another time.

But if this was the last night in the slice of life he had always longed for, he decided he might as well get the full effect as he reached for his scroll and typed the numbers he still knew by heart.

“Oh! Hi Hunter!” Willow said as she answered the video call, subconsciously curling her hair around her finger. Before (was it before this or would it be instead of this?), they had only ever texted or voice called once in awhile because he said a video call could jeopardize something about coven secrets (he couldn’t remember the exact lie) when in fact sometimes seeing her made his brain stop working and it was harder to hide that lull when she could see it in real time. “Sorry I look a little crazy, I wasn’t expecting your call.”

Her hair was frizzy, most likely she had come back from a run or a work out.

He had to stop himself from staring. “Oh sorry if this is a bad time-.”

“Oh no not at all!” Willow said quickly. “I was happy to see it was you! I guess I didn’t think you’d actually call, er what I mean is I-.”

“No, I should’ve asked or messaged before I did! If it makes you feel better, you look lovely as always, Captain ‘

“‘Captain?’” Willow repeated, arching her eyebrow, trudging past the ‘lovely’ part of his sentence but tucking it in her mind to revisit and analyze later. “It’s a little early for that isn’t it?”

“Well, this way you’ll get used to it sooner,” said Hunter, trying out a brand of confidence he was only able to summon in the deepest dream scenarios.

“Well you deserve a title too,” she pointed out, leaning back into her collection of pillows. “What should I call you?”

“Well, what do you wanna call me?” He said in a tone he had only said behind a mask and to a mirror (simultaneously). No one had ever heard this side and it was a risk he would never take in real life or at least not so early, but he couldn’t argue with the results. Dream Willow responded perfectly, an obvious blush covering her face as she set the scroll down for a moment as Hunter knew she did when something was just too much in the best way.

“Well hold on now,” said Willow after a deep breath, coming to match his energy. “We haven’t had tryouts yet. How do I even know you’re good enough to be on my team, huh?” She took obvious delight in her witty response to his teasing.

“Well then I’ll be in the stands cheering as your number one fan,” he countered. “But I’ll still get to call you Captain, right?”

“Yeah I guess so.” She didn’t expect a response so genuine and clever at the same time, it mirrored his very being.

He could see the reflection in her glasses of her opening a new text box. Within a seconds, he had a new message appear right above the view of her on his scroll.

Hey dude I’m not gonna be able to make it to the movies so it’ll just be you and Willow

“Oh Gus just messaged me,” said Hunter. “He can’t make it tomorrow.”

“Oh darn,” said Willow in a way that did not feel clever and genuine. “Well are you okay with it just being us?”

“I’ll think I’ll be fine,” he said. “As long as you’re fine with it.”

“I’m fine with it,” she said, making herself more comfortable in her chair.

“Cool then,” he said, doing the same. “It’s a date.”

—-

They talked until sleep overtook them. Hunter was awoken by the sound of Willow snoring, her scroll propped on one of her pillows to see him even as she drifted to sleep. He checked the time, the new day had come and he had still remained in the world he had fallen asleep in. He decided not to question it, not missing any chance to enjoy what could have been.

And it kept going.

There were days where he found himself forgetting that he was dwelling in a dream, a strange sense of altered deja vu. But just as quickly as he made the realization, his mind could not locate exactly what made him realize it. Soon he succumbed to letting it go, looking forward to looking forward and knowing trying too hard to control the dream could cause it to dissolve.

---

“... and then they turn the wall into a mural!” Gus finished, recalling a story that Hunter wasn’t entirely sure if he was supposed to have heard before (he was enthralled nevertheless) that he had overheard in study hall. Hunter remembered similar issues happening, an act of vandalism that was the perfect balance of severe and uninteresting for the guards to let him do alone.

“They weren’t afraid the Golden Guard would show up?” Hunter asked only to be met by inquisitive stares.

“The Golden Who?” Gus asked.

“Ya know the head of the Emperor’s Coven? The Emperor’s nephew?”

“‘Emperor?’” Gus repeated, confused.

“Oh, is this from one of your human realm books, Hunter?” Willow asked with an enthused smile.

“Oh, yeah!” Gus said with excitement. “Don’t spoil it! I wanna read those ones once I’m done with Cosmic Frontier! Unless the emperor is in Cosmic Frontier and I haven’t gotten to that part yet but where would he-.”

“No I mean like the coven system? Didn’t the emperor start that?”

“Pssh, you know no one follows the coven system,” said Willow. “It’s just there in case you need help finding people with similar interests to learn from and stuff. It’s not like we get tattoos about them or something; although I would actually love to get a plant tattoo someday.”

“So we can study any track we want? Not just one?”

“Yeah bro,” said Gus. “Did they not go over that at orientation?”

He looked around and noticed the multi track colors, some students had more than others and some still chose to focus on one. Of course Willow and Gus’ colors didn’t change, they just wanted to rep the track they loved the most but it didn’t prevent them from doing any magic they wanted to try.

Maybe Willow just knew she looked the best in green.

“Oh yeah,” he fake chuckled, going back to his plate in front of him. “Yeah, I must’ve forgotten. Cool.”

There was no threat or dark secret lurking over his shoulder here. And so the immersion became stronger.

-

What also became stronger was his connection with Willow. As he became more comfortable with himself their dynamic only became more solid, their banter quicker, and their time… well she occupied that whether or not she was physically with him,

He would go to her house to do homework, not letting on that he had already done it and he held the completed packet in front of him as he racked his brain for other ways he had thought about to try and impress her. Knowing or at least suspecting that everything here was temporary had allowed his nerves to calm when it came to the things he said to her. But the less he worried about embarrassing himself, the more real everything felt. Her hand would slowly move close to his until they were touching and neither of them acknowledged it with words, then their shoulders would follow suit and lean into each other as they felt compelled to share the same book for no particular reason. Now he knew why he was drawn to her warmth and had the time to enjoy instead of worrying he was putting her in danger.

He loved relearning things about her and seeing what was unique to this time around. He still loved how excited she got when she talked and how her eyes shone on him when she listened. Time with Willow not being plagued by guilt or secrets or trying to return to an apocalypse felt quicker and lighter. Seeing her and Gus waiting for him by his locker, both of them excited to see him and have lists of things they wanted to involve him in made him consider if he hadn’t been trapped in a nightmare before and that this was how everything really was.

He dared not to say this aloud, in case it was the trigger that sent him back. With each day, he remembered the specifics less and less of what supposedly was as it melted into what felt like a memory of a memory, something that passed through him rather than something that existed inside him. Not feeling even a fraction of the sadness that had once been his norm lured him into acceptance. Why had he ever doubted this was what he deserved?

—

“Okay, how does that look?” Willow asked, securing the last tie on the sign.

“Perfect!” Hunter beamed from the ground.

“Thanks, I try,” said Willow with a confident air as she flipped her hair. Hunter chuckled, knowing exactly what she was doing, taking his words and twisting them in a way that made him blush. The subtle way her tone and eyes shifted just for him, like another language hidden in their conversation that they made up as they went. He used it as a way to mask his compliments so they wouldn’t overwhelm her and he was starting to suspect she was genuinely doing the same.

Gus referred to it as flirting.

“Well, you’re succeeding,” said Hunter, often being the first to falter in this instances but knowing he loved the rush he got when her face lit up when he kept going. He especially loved the way she wrinkled her nose when he added with a hushed flair, like icing on the cake: “Captain.”

Her nose wrinkled just as he hoped it would as she admired the sign they had spent all night on. They had definitely taken their time on each letter as an excuse to spend more time together but that had been happening so much lately that it hardly seemed abnormal. “So you think it’ll attract some good recruits?”

“Oh yeah, I think it’s very attractive,” said Hunter smoothly as he leaned against the post and Willow giggled.

“Do you guys forget I’m here sometimes?” Gus teased in a deadpan as he continued to pass out pamphlets.

“No,” said Hunter and Willow simply as they continued to maintain eye contact, unfazed and unembarrassed by their public display.

“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Gus whispered, shaking his head endearingly.

Lost in each others googley eyes, they almost didn’t notice a grudgby ball spiraling towards her to knock her off her staff. As she lost her balance Hunter sprang into action, catching her as though it was effortless, as though she was always destined to land in his arms.

“How are you going to captain a team when you can’t even stay on your staff, half-a-witch?” Boscha mocked in her high pitched voice that fell on deaf ears because once Willow’s eyes locked on his such close proximity there was nothing else as far as they were concerned.

“You okay?” Hunter asked, his voice low and calm. She was in no real danger, deep down they both knew that, but he would dote on her nevertheless. And she was not complaining.

She nodded. “Mhm hmm,” she murmured with a dreamy sigh. “Good thing you were around, huh?”

“Excuse me! I’m insulting you!” Boscha exclaimed in anger. “Are you not listening?”

“Do you wanna go do the uh, the uh… um.”

“The demonstration?”

“Yeah! Yes! That! The demonstration!” Said Hunter. “That we planned. We should… go do it.”

“Okay.” Said Willow, moving to rest her head on his shoulder to look at him with a look of secrecy and mischief as if to say I’m perfectly comfortable right here.

Hunter gulped, trying to remind his feet how to move as he simultaneously tried to assure himself he had read her expression right. He tried to summon his former courage and replied “Okay,” as though to say I’m comfortable with you right there too.

“Okay,” she said with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. She gently kicked her feet and giggled as though to ask Are you seriously gonna carry me there?

“Okay!” Hunter said, tightening his hold on her as if to say I’ll carry you all day if it’ll make you laugh before running toward the front of the school as Willow giggled and cheered in his arms.

He looked down at the laughing girl in his arms, her braids framing her face

“Your hair,” he said, as though truly noticing it for the first time.

“What about my hair?” she said as the laughter was slowly leaving her voice, looking up at him as though expecting another compliment. Normally he’d love to offer her just that but something was off.

“It’s… in braids.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I braided it this morning,” said Willow. “Why? Does it look okay?”

“No, I mean yes, I uh but I mean how is it long enough to be in braids already?” He asked.

“Well because I had braids the first time we started the team so I-.”

“The first time?” Hunter repeated, slowing to a stop. “What do you mean ‘the first time?’ Has this…. Do you know what’s going on? Has this happened before?”

“Um no no it’s not… uh…” Willow struggled to process her own words, as she returned to her feet. “No no because now it’s different! It’s better this time! You’re happier and safe, I mean we both are! And we don’t have to-.”

“Willow, how long has it been?”

“How long has what been?”

“Since we first met,” he clarified. “It feels like things are moving fast like I know it should have been months ago but it was barely days ago, wasn’t it?”

“What? No! Because I mean… well…”

“Willow?”

“We… we have a flyer derby team to start! Together!” She said, forcing a bright tone. “A-and we’ll play a real game, with official uniforms! And in the picture, me and Clover and you and- oh no.”

Suddenly, the light around them dimmed as though unable to exist if Willow was uncertain. The scenery flickered, as though waiting and Hunter felt like he could hear a ringing silence. He felt rooted to the ground, feeling as though he was entering a nightmare. But why now? What had triggered it?

“Willow, I… I’m having trouble remembering,” Hunter said as he realized it, he didn’t know how to describe the feeling but it was like he was suddenly overcome with with a recovering pain. His head had subtle pounding, like how it felt after he had been crying. But when has he been crying? “I-I it’s like I know we’re here but I can’t remember how we got here. Like it’s… skipping things. Does that make sense?”

“Oh um m-maybe you’re dehydrated,” Willow offered, her tone suggesting she was hiding something. “Let me get you some water! I’ll get you some water and we’ll do the demonstration and we’ll get Skara and Viney and we can-.”

“How did you know that?” He cut her off. “How do you know they’ll join?”

“Because well… um…” Hunter wasn't sure if she wasn’t sure how she knew or if she didn’t want to share how she did. “Sorry, sorry I can… hold on.”

A flash of green and suddenly Willow was gone. Everything around him felt… fake. Like nothing had changed but suddenly it felt too detailed, as though it had been staged and not lived in. An edited memory.

Suddenly, he couldn’t recall Boscha actually being there. He knew she had been, but it was like she wasn’t worth describing, worth a detailed vision. Her presence was no more than an idea of her. She existed, but only for this moment. So much suddenly seemed to exist only for this moment. One moment. The current moment. Then once it played its part, it faded like they weren’t meant to go back. Everything went forward. Hunter couldn’t focus on going back to something specific. He couldn’t remember the full layout of his house or his class schedule or how he got to school. Like they were there but too complicated to always be there, like once he left everything went with him and would go back when he did.

Flapjack. Flapjack was… wasn’t he? Where was he? Flapjack was there but somehow out of focus, like a memory of a photo. Like the moments he knew he talked to him were skipped. He knew they happened, he knew because there was no Flapjack to fill his place in whatever trick this was. Hunter knew that he knew, deep down it felt off. But he knew digging deeper would take him from this unfamiliar happiness and whisk him back to a real and familiar sadness. Was it any different than hitting snooze to enjoy a dream a little longer? To pretend it could be forever?

Had this dream been a nightmare in disguise all along?

It was not the first time Hunter had tried to fool himself this way, he would interpret his Uncle’s words over and over again until they made sense. He had to believe he was finding the meaning hiding beneath the surface, that he over complicated things because he was smart enough to understand what most people didn’t.

But now this was less about survival and more about wanting. He wanted a fresh start, he wanted more time with his friends. He wanted to be happy. But somehow, even in a dream, he couldn’t have everything. He did not have his voice of reason to guide and ground him, now he only had an echo he was terrified of misremembering.

“Hunter!” Gus’ voice echoed, even though it shouldn’t echo here. It felt saturated, he didn’t know a sound could feel that way. He appeared like he had to fight the scenery to do so.

“Gus!” Hunter exclaimed, running over to him. He suddenly noticed how quiet it was, no singing birds or even the gentle blowing of the wind. An impossible silence. “What’s going on? Is it the collector?”

“No it's… Willow.”

“Willow? Is something wrong? Is she okay?” he frantically looked around for any sign of her. Gus touched his shoulder, knowing he’d easily spiral if he believed Willow was somewhere needing assistance.

“I… don’t know how to answer that,” Gus confessed, and the color around his seemed to be wavoring. “Because last time this happened-.”

“Last time? What do you mean?”

“Willow she… well, you know Willow,” Gus started, looking around nervously as though his time was limited. “You know how much she cares about people, how deeply she feels everything. How much she wants to help. And when something happens that she can’t fix or help, she feels powerless. She doesn’t doesn’t like seeing the people she loves hurt and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Yeah I-l… I know but what does that have to do with whatever is happening now?”

“When I found out that my mom… left us,” Gus said quietly, the memory still causing him to choke up. “I was a mess. I was hurt and confused and sad and Willow was there for me every minute. But there was nothing anyone could really do, ya know? Nothing could bring her back, nothing could make the part of me that missed her go away. Willow tried everything and seeing me hurt hurt her too and her want for me to feel better took over and she made all these plants…”

“Plants?”

“Poppies,” said Gus. “They make you sleepy, make you have vivid dreams. When they’re made by a witch like Willow with such strong emotions, you forget you’re in a dream. She didn’t do it on purpose, she just wanted things to be better so much that the poppies turned her feelings into… well, this.”

“Willow did… all this?” He wasn’t surprised she had the power to summon such dangerous and potent flowers. “For me?”

He was more surprised that she cared so deeply for him that it altered his universe.

Gus nodded, but Hunter still needed more answers.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t think I can tell you,” said Gus.

“Why? Gus, if Willow is hurting too I want to know why,” said Hunter. “This has to be draining her, we need to find her. Why is she doing this?”

“Hunter I… I don’t think she’ll let me tell you,” said Gus. “She’s trying to protect you and this has gone on longer than before and she could be lost to her own magic. She let it drag her into the narrative she thought would help you. But Amity and Luz weren’t there before, and when they tried to step in they got-.”

“Amity… and Luz,” Hunter said. They hadn’t been there, but he knew who they were. They were part of this world. How did they fit in now? They had been there when-.

“They’re trying to get inside her mind but this feeling… it’s complicated,” said Gus. “It’s putting up walls and shifting things. The longer it goes on the harder it is to stop.”

“How do we stop it? What did you do last time?”

“Her magic wasn’t as strong last time,” Gus said. “Her dads were able to calm her down but I don’t know how to end this. It’s like an illusion, kind of, so I’ve been able to navigate it okay but it’s like it can’t end until she’s convinced you’re happy. It’s linked to you, it’s supposed to be your dream. She’s not gonna be able to stop until she knows you have everything you want.”

Hunter didn’t need to know much more about how this came to be to know it must be draining Willow beyond belief. The ever changing details, adapting to his expectations and maintaining the subtle altered reality. This was dedication and focus that could drive even the strongest witch mad.

“Everything I… Willow,” he whispered. “Willow Willow! I want to see Willow!”

No sooner had the words left his lips did the world around him shift and shuffle and there she was as though out of thin air. Her outfit kept changing like a glitch, switching between her sleek school uniform and a tattered black dress with striped leggings. He knew this outfit, but he didn’t know how. He knew he had made that W patch for her. That he had seen it… in a store? He had been in a store with Luz and Amity and it was… he had to wear a hat… it was all there, just beyond where he could reach but it was like when he tried to focus on it it just made it blurrier.

He saw it and thought of her and when she saw it she was happy… because she could wear it for… where were they going?

It was like there was a shield over it because remembering it meant he’d also remember something painful. Willow took it upon herself to hold that pain for him and it showed.

“Willow-,” he started, stepping towards her but before he could get closer vines wrapped around his ankles and stopped his movement.

“No, don’t,” she said, trying to hide herself. She closed her eyes, and Hunter wasn’t sure if it was the poppies trying to take back control or her trying to tap back into them but either way he knew she was ashamed. She was unraveling. She was tired. She was scared.

“Willow, please we need to get you out of here-,”

“No, no please don’t worry about me!” she chuckled nervously, her voice strained. “This is, uh this is nothing! Really! I just need to uh… to…”

“Willow…”

She sniffled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and Hunter swore he could hear her heart breaking. The vines eased for a moment but did not fully release him. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t… I shouldn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Willow, you don’t have to-,” but before he could rebut, the vines grew as though to interrupt him and tell him no amount of reason could make its way through.

“I… I lied to you,” she whispered, as though scolding herself. “I manipulated you and trapped you because I thought I knew what was best for you. How am I any different than Belos?”

“Because you care if you hurt me,” Hunter said simply, slipping his arm out of a coiled vine. “You don’t want to hurt me.You didn’t do this to control me, you didn’t do this to help yourself, Willow you don’t even try to do this; you just wanted me to be happy. The idea of me being in pain made you do all this to try and help me. Willow, I could never be upset about that.”

“But it’s not… it wasn’t… it’s not enough,” she whispered. “This, all this won’t fix anything, it will just make everything hurt longer and hurt more when I mess it up.”

“Willow, I knew at the beginning it wasn’t real,” he said. “I knew and I stayed because I… I wanted to be better, make a better impression. Willow, meeting you changed my life. You made me want to… to have fun, try new things, be myself. Figure out what that meant. I liked who I was around you. I like who I am.”

With each word he said he felt the ground become more unstable. Against his first instinct, he took that as a good sign and continued.

“I know I’ve made mistakes and done things I’m not proud of,” he went on. “And sometimes I wish I could undo them or forget them but I know I can’t. I know it’ll hurt sometimes to think about it but I have to, so I can go forward. So I can do better, know there is something better.”

“But you were,” she said, struggling to speak againest the tears overtaking her whole being. “You were healing, and growing and you were happy. You were silly and you got to relax and it was… it wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to get hurt again, you weren’t supposed to lose him. You were… you almost…”

“Mijo! Willow! Sweetheart, please, can you hear me? Are you two okay?” Camila’s voice was a muffled echo just beyond the walls of endless shades green and red.

Scenery flashed around them. The lunchroom, a classroom, his room, the basement at the Noceada’s, the flyer derby field, the throne room, the graveyard.

The graveyard,

The graveyard.

The graveyard.

They were still in the graveyard. They had never left.

She couldn’t keep it up anymore, reality was creeping in. The others were trying to reach them. WIllow was holding on and it was destroying her. She was fighting to be his shield, blinded by her bleeding heart.

This magic was taking everything from her but she could care less so long as she could give everything to him.

Everything came back to him all at once and flooded his being with an intense numbness. It was too much to process, and he instantly accepted that he may never fully be over it. But what kept him afloat was knowing without a doubt that he did not have hide this feeling, he did not have to feel ashamed or bear the weight alone. He may feel this pain forever, but he knew it would not be the only thing he felt.

“I wanted to give you everything you wanted,” she whispered, exhausted. “I should have done something sooner. I should have known something was wrong. I should have… I didn’t save you. I couldn’t save you. We almost lost you. We lost… you lost…”

“I know.” His hand grabbed his chest, an aching feeling washed over him. “I know.”

The ground trembled as tears built up in her eyes. “No no no!” with every word their surroundings shook, her tears hit the ground like waterfalls. “I was supposed to make you feel better! This was supposed to be everything you wanted! I thought maybe… I tried… I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to do Hunter. I’m so sorry.”

“I know… that you don’t like that I feel this way,” said Hunter, taking a small step towards her. “I know you care about me. But then you should also know that I don’t want you to feel that way either. No ones ever cared about me so much before.”

“But it’s not enough,” she whimpered. “I’m not enough.”

“Don’t talk about my friend like that!” Hunter demanded, a gentle golden glow surrounding him as the rage ran through him.

She exhaled, her breath shaky but slowly beginning to steady. She brought her eyes up to meet his, the green glow was faint now and the bags beneath her eyes envied his own. In reality, perhaps no more than an hour had gone by but she had endured weeks worth. She had gotten just as lost as he had. But she knew this was him, this was not something she had persuaded him to believe or say, no this was truly him. His truth was helping her release the hold she had on herself.

“I won’t lie, I wish I could start over,” he said. “I wish I got to meet you sooner and be a normal witch and have Flap… but I’ll take having you at all, no matter when it happens so long as it happens. I didn’t have enough time with Flapjack but thinking about that doesn’t erase the time I did have with him. And I’d rather make new memories with you guys than dream about what could have been. I know that’s real.”

“But I tricked you,” she said with a tired sigh. “I tricked you to feel the way I wanted you to feel about me.”

“Willow I promise you don’t trick me.”

“But we were… and you said… t-that we… it was-.”

“Willow at first I was aware that things weren’t really like that,” said Hunter. “But I… didn’t care. I took it as a second chance and I promise that the way I feel about you didn’t change, just maybe the way I acted about it did.”

She wiped a tear from her eye. “You say I make things better but here you are making me feel better,” she joked as she adjusted her breathing as the tears dissolved. “It’s just.. hard to let go. To go back. I don’t… want you to have to go through that, you’ve already gone through so much.”

He finally reached her and took her hand in his.

“But now I won’t have to go through it alone.” He realized it as he said it. It was the truth and it didn’t erase the overwhelming weight his grief had collected, but it took away some of the pressure. He knew it would always be there’s but it wouldn’t be the only thing that was there. Willow saw it too. She couldn’t undo the past or guarantee the future, but their present didn’t have to suffer in solitude.

It all came crumbling down as she fell into his embrace. Suddenly, the colors weren’t as vibrant but they were real. The air was chilly but the warmth of her embrace canceled it out. The silence was less deafening. He heard everyone else call out to them, uncertain of how it had all looked from the outside. He knew he was sad, he knew his safety was real but temporary. He knew it wasn’t over. He knew this might be a turning point he’d wish he prepared for more but none of that held him down as Willow wiped away his tears, barely harboring enough strength to stand as she took him into the nape of her neck.

He synced his breathing to the sound of her heartbeat.

“So you’ll really be okay? For real?” Willow whispered as the others surrounded them, keeping them safe from the chill and checking them for injuries.

He didn’t know how but it was like he felt his own heart beating for the very first time.

“Maybe not right away, but I will be,” he said softly into her hair. “As long as I have you, for real.”

[loganjameshowlett]

SAME AS IT EVER WAS

02: FACTS DON'T DO WHAT I WANT THEM TO

pairing: peter parker/muntant!reader summary: you're getting good at pretending everything is normal. peter's getting less good at the very same. word count: 3.2k+

series masterlist | previous installment | next installment

When you woke up on Thursday, the bizarre scars were still uncomfortably present on your shoulder blades, and you kind of wished the SUV had finished the job. 

It was 3:07 PM when you rolled over– an action accompanied with a certain measure of full-body agony– and squinted blearily at your phone screen. 

“Shit,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and checking the time again. You had missed both of your classes for the day, and had to be over to the bodega in just under two hours for a shift. It was unlike you to oversleep, or to ever miss a class, and you tamped down the anxiety already bubbling in your chest about falling behind or missing something crucial. It was also unlike you to get fully run over by an SUV and live to tell the tale, you supposed. And it made for a hell of a good reason to have missed class, anyway. 

Your body felt like it belonged tucked into a bed in the ICU unit over in Bellevue. When you finally dragged it out of bed and in front of the mirror to check, the line of unsightly, discolored tire track bruises had bloated to cover most of the skin from your ribs down to your hips. The same wave of questions from the night before welled up in your mind, and just as the night before, you pushed them all away just as fast. You had enough sense to know you weren’t going to come to any meaningful answers standing on your own in the middle of your bedroom, and you had to shower and get ready for work, anyhow. Another place where you were not likely to get answers, so best not to think about the questions. 

By the time you were done with a near-scalding shower, your body was actually feeling mostly okay and you were well on your way to convincing yourself that whatever happened last night was a fluke. A one time thing. Yes, it was completely bizarre and should have been impossible by all accounts, but those were things you didn’t have to concern yourself with if it never happened again. A few decades from now, you’d probably think it had all been a particularly vivid dream, the way most people who glimpse one unexplainable thing in their lives and then nothing ever again do, and that was alright by you.  

***

“You’ll never guess what happened to me last night,” Mickey says, grinning and coming around the counter as soon as you came through the door. 

You stole my line, you wanted to say, but you were making a valiant effort at not devoting large quantities of brainpower to thinking about last night, so you didn’t. Instead, you walked behind the counter and shed your jacket on the plastic chair in the tiny storage-closet-turned-office, tossing a look Mickey’s way to show her you were listening to her story. 

“Two minutes away from my dorm, I ran into fucking Klara,” she said, punctuating her sentence with a roll of her wide brown eyes. “She has somehow gotten more fuckin’ unbearable than ever.”

“In other news, the sky is blue,” you interjected, and Mickey waved a hand dismissively. 

“That is not the point of the story,” Mickey said. “She stopped me on the path with her bullshit smalltalk for about thirty seconds before dropping that fucking Spider-Man had just swung through campus five minutes earlier!” 

“He has been known to do that,” you nodded. “Couple weeks ago he webbed up some finance frat loser who was trying to start fist fights with everyone who walked past him.” 

“Yeah, I know he’s around sometimes, but I have never seen him! And there I was last night, missing him by a matter of mere minutes.” Mickey huffed, dropping her chin onto her hand. 

“Your time will come, Mick,” you assured her. “And then you can try to flirt your way into his spandex, or whatever.”

“I will succeed in flirting my way into his spandex, thank you very much,” she responded haughtily, and despite your mood and the soreness still ebbing its way through your body, you laughed. 

Gary hopped up onto the counter, wending his way through Mickey’s arms, and then crossing over to do the same to yours. Absently, you sunk your fingers into his soft orange fur, gently scratching his little head. 

“Hey, you kinda look like shit. Did something happen?” Mickey asked, startling you out of the blank-gazed factory reset your brain was trying to accomplish. When you looked up at her, her head was tilted to the side, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. 

“If staying up most of the night doing homework counts as something happening, then yeah,” you shrugged. “This is just what a me approaching midterms looks like.” 

“Yeah… I guess that’s true,” she drawled, but you could tell by her voice that she wasn’t totally convinced. Mickey was your best friend, and years of telling each other everything without a second thought had culminated in both of you being able to easily tell when the other was, on those rare occasions, hiding something. And usually, as soon as Mickey seemed even marginally onto you, you would spill everything to her. But this time, you couldn’t say a thing. What even would you say? Nothing good could come out of telling her that you’d been run over by a car and then just… walked home. 

“Can we finally talk about how Josh McClellan is clearly coming in here several times a week just to see you?” you asked, trying to change the subject as smoothly as you were capable of. 

“Okay, so it’s not only me who was thinkin’ that?” Mickey launched into a play-by-play dissection of her interactions with the guy immediately, and you sank onto the stool behind the counter in relief of the attention no longer being on you. 

The rest of your shift passed mostly without incident. Mickey followed Gary around the bodega, harassing him with pets and occasionally fixing up or restocking a shelf or two. The after-work crowd even seemed a little less disgruntled than usual, which your hourly deteriorating people skills appreciated greatly. 

“Think we can bump off early?” Mickey asked, as the clock reached eleven. “It’s only an hour.”

“I wouldn’t do Mr. Browne like that, and neither should you,” you said, aiming  a scolding look at her over the shelves as you idly pushed a broom back and forth in front of the coolers. “And, ‘sides, this is the easiest hour of the shift. Basically nobody comes in between now and closing.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the bell above the door chimed. Mickey shot a told ya so look at you, before turning around to see who came in. 

“Oh– hey, Peter,” you greeted, eyes widening slightly as you realized it wasn’t just some random schmuck looking for mixers for their pregame. You knew this schmuck. Kind of. 

For his part, Peter froze in the door, looking a little too much like a prey animal for someone simply being recognized when they didn’t expect it. His eyes met yours, and he forced an awkward smile onto his face. 

“Hey,” he said your name, accompanied by a small wave. “I didn’t know you worked here.” 

“Didn’t come up while we were discussing your essay?” you asked, and Peter’s smile grew into something a little more embarrassed, cheeks pinking slightly as he ducked his head. 

“Sorry, that was stupid,” he said, wending his way through the aisles and clearly searching for something specific. You brought the broom back into the office and situated yourself behind the register for when Peter was ready to check out. Mickey met your eye from across the room as she hoisted Gary into her arms, giving you a look that was clearly asking what the fuck? You shrugged almost imperceptibly and looked away, but you could still feel her eyes on you. 

A few minutes later, Peter ambled up to the counter and set three different flavors of Celsius and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos down in front of you. Fascinating snack for this time of night. 

“Still on for tomorrow afternoon?” he asked as you began scanning his items. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you said, looking up to offer him a small smile. Up close, the bags under his eyes were so pronounced they looked like true bruises, and there was a pretty fresh cut almost completely hidden in his hairline. 

“You okay?”

The words came out of both of your mouths at the same time, followed by twin looks of confusion. 

“Me?” you asked, brow furrowing as you finished ringing him up. “Total’s $13.50, by the way.” 

“Yeah– uh, sorry–” Peter said, fishing a couple of bills out of his jacket pocket. “You just… it seemed like something might be wrong.” 

You blinked at him for a few seconds, frankly dumbfounded that he– a virtual stranger– was able to pick up on the general wrongness of the current state of your existence. Realizing you’d been quiet for a weird amount of time, you sucked in a breath and responded, “Oh, yeah, no, I’m good. Just exhausted, s’all– you know, finals coming up and everything.”

“Oh, sure,” he nodded, like it made complete sense. “Right there with you.”

“And, uh, what happened up–?” you asked, gesturing toward the cut along his hairline. You noticed then that the skin around it was starting to bruise. 

“Oh, that,” Peter said, bringing a hand up to ghost along the offending injury. “I was in the lab earlier for my, uh, my internship and there was a little accident. You know how labs are.”

“I really do not know how labs are,” you said, and the same embarrassed smile from earlier grew on his face. 

“Right. Yeah. Accidents are par for the course.”

“Well, make sure you dress that properly when you get home,” you said, fighting the urge to fuss over the wound. 

“First thing when I walk through the door,” he promised, and you nodded, satisfied, as you handed over his purchases. 

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, ‘night,” Peter said, waving as he took a few backward steps from the counter, before disappearing through the door. 

As soon as he was out on the sidewalk, Mickey materialized on the other side of the counter, red curls and freckled expression of shocked interest taking up your entire field of vision. “What the fuck was that?” 

***

You spent Friday morning valiantly trying to finish your biology work so that you actually had something for Peter to look over that afternoon. You figured that, honestly, bringing a blank lab worksheet to him would be just as useful as bringing one you filled in by yourself; it was like the synapses stopped firing in your brain when you opened up this stupid lab’s Canvas page. 

And anyway, your lack of ability to concentrate on anything that looked even remotely like STEM homework had become a hundred times worse since the Incident (you had taken to thinking of it as this: capitalized so as to be given proper weight, and named so that you never had to dwell on any of the details). Suddenly learning about plant tissue culture seemed entirely meaningless in the greater context of your increasingly bizarre life. 

Meaningless or not, you still had to pass the class. The universe worked in mysterious ways, and as you skimmed the same textbook page for the ninth time, absorbing not a single word, you thanked it for sending Peter Parker your way. 

When you reached the second floor of the library at five minutes to two, Peter was already sitting at the table the two of you had occupied the other day, general backpack detritus spread haphazardly across half the surface. He had a fresh printed copy of his edited essay in front of him, partially obscured by his arm resting on top of it, which was, in turn, supporting his head while he napped. 

You approached the table, dumping your bag in one of the empty chairs as gently as you could. Peter’s hair stuck up in all directions, and you noticed that the bruise blooming out from the cut along his hairline had matured into something nastier looking since the last time you saw him. 

For a moment, you stood awkwardly at the side of the table, waiting to see if he would wake up. You felt bad about the prospect of waking him– he clearly needed the sleep badly– and you briefly thought about just leaving and emailing him to set up a different time, but you knew he’d feel bad about it and selfishly, you needed to submit your lab by midnight. 

“Peter?” you asked, voice pitched low for the library. Hesitantly, you reached a hand toward his shoulder, unsure still of what you would do with it once it reached its destination, but just before your fingers brushed his sweatshirt, Peter’s head bolted up as if electrocuted. 

He took a few seconds to gaze, confused, about the room, before his eyes landed on you and a blush that was quickly becoming familiar pinked his cheeks. 

He said your name, half confused question and half surprised exclamation, and blinked up at you a few times as if trying to orient himself. 

“You alright?” you asked, moving to sit in the seat catty-cornered to his own. 

“Yeah, I’m all good, I– honestly, I can’t believe I  fell asleep here,” Peter answered, reassuring smile an afterthought. You watched how the smile dropped quickly and his brow furrowed, skin creasing above the bridge of his nose; he seemed far too concerned about accidentally falling asleep in the library. 

“I can’t tell you how many naps I’ve taken at this exact table, let alone the rest of the building,” you told him, tone light. You weren’t quite sure what about the situation had him so worried, but you hoped you could reassure him a bit anyway. “You wanna start with your essay, or my lab?” 

“Your lab deserves to go first,” Peter decided quickly. “What’s this one on?”

You attempted to explain the lab to the best of your ability, eventually giving up and handing over your entire biology folder so Peter could read it himself. For the next two hours, he talked you through each aspect of the lab– it felt like finding God, finally being able to understand something for this fucking class. 

Peter perked up with every question you asked him, as though getting the opportunity to explain biological concepts was literally reinvigorating him. His eyes brightened, his posture straightened– he was more confident than you’d ever seen him now that he was given the space to ramble about something he knew well. You were embarrassed to have to forcibly stop yourself from openly staring at him about half a dozen times. 

“Sorry, we got way off track at the end, there,” Peter said, suddenly cutting off a tangent about some research on chloroplasts that one of his internship colleagues was conducting. 

You waved him off, a genuine smile on your face. “Don’t be, I like listening to you. ‘Sides, I learned more from you this afternoon than I have from Dr. Katz the entire semester,” you said earnestly. 

Peter grinned, ducking his head a bit. “Well, I aim to educate and entertain, so I'm glad I hit on both of those today.”

“I really think you could have a future as Bill Nye’s successor with these skills, Parker,” you said solemnly, and Peter laughed. 

“With this kind of unwavering support, maybe I will be conducting science experiments on direct-to-videos being played in seventh grade biology classrooms all over the country very soon.”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “If you’re lucky.”

***

Three years into college, and Peter still hadn’t quite mastered balancing the student and hero halves of his life. 

Submitting work late and having no consistent social life were just, he guessed, par for the course. His entire life seemed to be made up of excuses, and he was helpless to change it. Mostly, it didn’t bother him. Being Spider-Man was just who he was; he wouldn’t give up any part of that for “the traditional college experience” or “having friends”. He shuffled his half-dead body between chem lectures and getting 18-wheelers thrown at him by the Rhino, and in the exceedingly rare moments of quiet between the two, he kept his head down. And that was that. He was good with that. 

And then he met you. 

He’d never needed a tutor before Professor Liu, and when he finally bit the bullet and asked her for help, he expected to be paired with some pretentious, Moby Dick reading, flowy blouse wearing poet who would eloquently tell him exactly how much of a dunce he was when it came to literary analysis. This probably wasn’t a fair assessment, but he didn’t know many English majors, and anyway, anyone who was held in such high esteem by Professor Liu was somebody whom, he assumed, he would never get along with in a million years. 

And then he’d shown up to tutoring, and there you were at the table in a giant sweatshirt, dog-eared book held open by one errant finger as you tapped at your keyboard, and you’d remembered his name right off the bat and smiled at him– one of those patient, encouraging smiles that could make anyone open up about anything– and somewhere between breaths the tutoring session had become the highlight of his week. 

He’d left with the guarantee of seeing you again in a few days, and then it was like his brain got the flu because all he could think about, any time he idled, was you, and how you laughed at all his stupid jokes and were so casually witty and– honestly, the torrent was never ending (not that he was trying to end it very hard) and maybe worryingly distracting (he’d only missed the broad side of a building with his webs once, and he rebounded before he became a stain on the pavement, so really, no harm no foul). 

He thought he was hallucinating when he walked into a bodega at random after a surprisingly nasty spat with a would-be car thief, spandex still on under his jacket and a pair of sweatpants, and there you were, too, name tag pinned to your sweater and broom in your hand, existing in your own right away from the library, which was, for some reason, a shock to him. He said something stupid (a curse he was sure he would never get rid of) and had to fumble his way through normalcy even when you, through what you claimed to be exhaustion but was pinging his spidey senses as something much more, noticed his little bump on the head and asked if he was okay. His heart had done a painful, spasmodic little dance at the thought that you cared enough to ask, and he didn’t really know what to do with that. 

Sitting on this rooftop was becoming frigid, and all he could think about was your hand touching his when you handed him back his change, and your voice so earnestly saying I like listening to you. 

God, but he was fucked.

[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead���what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[diagonal-queen]

Can i request Dazai, chuuya and tecchou when they have a nightmare (like their s/o being kidnapped or something similar)

(I want to request for Atsushi but he already suffered too much)

i see your request. and i'm writing atsushi too because i love to be evil and mean >:)

When they have a nightmare about you

♡ pairing: Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Tecchou Suehiro, Atsushi Nakajima x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys behave after waking up from a nightmare where something bad happens to you?

♡ cw: Nightmares, mentions of violence/torture/kidnapping, your faves are very traumatised.

note: I tried to make this one very sad so everyone who reads this please cry when you read it to make me feel good about myself 🤧 apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Dazai:

Dazai has lost too many loved ones to handle such a nightmare with any kind of grace. A worse case scenario would be a nightmare in which he is the direct cause for your harm/kidnapping/death, so that's what I'm going with

He's so distressed when he wakes up that he can't move for a minute. He takes a second to come to his senses and realise that it was just a dream.

Dazai turns to you and immediately wakes you up to tell you about it. He doesn't want to let that stuff marinate in his head while he's by himself for too long

You wake up and ask him what the matter is, knowing something is off. This is because usually you're the one who has to wake him up every day. Dazai loves sleeping.

He explains the nightmare to you that he had (in gruesome detail) in a weirdly calm and unexpressive manner- this is what he tends to default to when something distressing happens to him (same)

You can tell that under his demeanour he's actually quite rattled, so you ask him if he's alright and he eventually admits that he fears the possibility that he might hurt you

You wrap your arms around him and tell him that you're not going anywhere and you know that he would never do that. You also tell him how safe you feel around him and how grateful you are for that. Your words really help Dazai feel better :')

After your little talk he kisses you and tells you he loves you too. He holds you in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, and bask in the comfortable loving silence between the two of you until he falls asleep again

Chuuya:

Chuuya likes to be in control, so when he's having a nightmare about you getting in harm's way (something he would kill to prevent), he's shaken up.

He tosses and turns in his sleep to the point that he probably ends up waking you up first, and when you notice this you're the one who shakes him awake

He does awaken eventually, breathing heavily and all that, and when you ask him if he's alright he just pulls you into his arms and squeezes the hell out of you, saying something like 'thank god you're still here'

When you ask him again what's wrong he does explain his nightmare to you, though he has trouble getting the words out because just thinking about it makes him feel horrible

Seeing how distressed he is, you take his hand and reassure him that you know that nothing will ever happen to you if he's there protecting you

He'd try to protest with things like 'But what if-' but you're having NONE of it. You don't let him get a word in while you tell him that you wholeheartedly believe in him and how amazing he is

When you also promise to him that you'll be there to protect him too, he's so touched that he absolutely squeezes you again (keep in mind the poor guy is already tired and emotionally volatile)

He has a hard time getting back to bed after the nightmare, so the two of you stay up for a few hours cuddling and talking about life and stuff. And how much you love one another <3

Tecchou:

Tecchou probably has super vivid dreams wherein he has no idea that they're just dreams, so when he wakes up he's both terrified and exhausted

He lies there for a minute in absolute terror at what he's just seen. You were probably being tortured in his dream (he's seen a lot of that kind of thing before and it would definitely manifest in his dreams)

He eventually sits up and wakes you up to make sure you're all fine and good yourself. When you wake up and ask him what the matter is, he's very vague about it but Tecchou is kind of easy to read

Usually Tecchou appears a little offish and absentminded (plus he's a member of an OP military unit), so it's very jarring to see him appearing truly serious and even afraid.

You need to ask him questions to prompt him to tell you just how he's feeling, and you helping him verbalise his feelings about the nightmare helps him feel a lot better! You kind of bring him back to reality in a way?

You explain to him that in being his partner, it's kind of impossible for any danger to befall you, like ever, and that while you understand that nightmares can be upsetting they're not a reflection of the future or anything

He's very comforted by your presence and certainty, and asks if it's alright if you stay up and talk to him for a little while more. Tecchou likes being very 'in the moment' with you

So he snuggles in your arms and the pair of you lay in bed as you try to take his mind off the nightmare, talking about funny or cute things with him until he eventually falls back asleep

Atsushi:

Atsushi has seen some shit, had some bad nightmares and he's had his friends be kidnapped several times (haven't we all?), but when it comes to you it's somehow a million times worse.

Let's say his nightmare is you being kidnapped by the mafia or something (which is very much a real concern of his and something he's constantly trying to keep from happening)

So when he wakes up in a cold sweat he's immediately making sure you're still there with him. When he sees you sleeping peacefully by his side, he's unbelievably relieved. He might start crying

He'd not want to wake you up and try to get back to bed but it's kind of hard to stay asleep when there's a man cuddling you and also trembling

When you wake up you immediately know something's wrong, and when you ask him he just breaks down and cries into your neck. This unintentionally worries you a lot more and so you're both panicked now

So when he realises this he's like 'Wait no it's fine!' and quickly tells you (in as composed a manner as he can) about the nightmare he had. He looks so upset it's honestly heartbreaking

You cuddle him and tell him that nothing bad is gonna happen to you, that you know if anything happens you, you're gonna be just fine in the end thanks to him and the Agency

He's so thankful for your presence in his life that even if he's fully aware that his fear is a little bit of paranoia, he can't help but fear the hypothetical in which you're taken away from him. Atsushi loves you a lot and it really shows in scenarios like this

would do anything to snuggle with dazai or atsushi :(

[solselah]

SPIRITUAL

CLEANSING TOOLS

✨

ALL WHITE CLEANSE :

For this pile I channeled an all white cleanse as your effective mode of cleansing!! That revolves around wearing all white for a specific amount of time ! For example 5-7 days etc! Honestly however many days you feel drawn to!! This cleanse for you will help awaken your crown chakra & Help you to lean softly into awakening your spirit in totality (think of what caffeine does to the body). This method of cleansing will Suck out all of the shadow energy that has been trapped in your auric field & body!!! It may bring fourth heavy and vivid dreams along with remembering certain things from the past & past LIVES ! You may use this cleansing method when things do not seem clear to you …. When things are literally unknown and you truly can’t figure out what to do next it may be necessary to clothe yourself in all white to connect with your YANG ! At this specific time I believe there is some unresolved anger needing to come to the surface and Dissipate!! It’s time to move on from an angry space to a space where growth and Purity are present!! Wearing all white is your armor , it will help your spiritual connections way more than you actually think. Your white clothing act as an Antenna it will help you to strengthen the connection with whomever and whatever you’re planning to connect with !! CLARITY ✨

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SPIRITUAL BATH :

There are a few things here

You may be someone in the limelight or center of attention without even trying & people really do evil eye you very often, im talking when you step out the “eye” pops out!!! It’s automated at this rate. Totally not your fault your energy is just powerful and magnetic! Very !! So using a spiritual bath with certain herbs will help you to fully release the energy that has been projected onto you ! Even if you wear a certain necklace or bracelet it’s still a necessary step to submerge your whole entire body in water to spiritually cleanse yourself! It’s almost like you get in the shower everyday to cleanse your physical body so it’s important to keep the same energy spiritually! That’s so needed for you guys in this pile. It’s time for a deep / full reset. You will notice after your spiritual bath I’m talking a day after you will feel light as A FEATHERRR ! You may feel intense energy which may come off as heavy, but it takes just a moment for that baggage to clear out ! (As herbs do have different properties and time that they are effective) For you I would always make sure to add a dash of ground coffee to your bath just a pinch I’m talking a sunflower seed amount !! It will help to add a kick to the cleansing process as far as time is concerned!! When it’s a beneficial time for you in life it’s important to also indulge in a spiritual bath ! It shows you are putting your best foot forward in attempt to grow , to change. You may even receive spiritual gifts by doing spiritual baths routinely!!! That’s specific for the type of energy you carry but for the most part doing this long term is so beneficial!!!

I’m feeling the heaviest of Pisces and Libra energy if this is you please do take this Into consideration. Especially if you have mercury in 5th house :)

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CANDLE WORK :

YOU & candle work go absolutely hand and hand. This could be something you do regardless , I can see that for a select few of you, you may have used candle 🕯️ magic in the past to invoke a soul mate or to manifest love in your life. I do see here that at some point you were successful and came into “a” union with your mate. Creating a bond attached with a contract!! I believe it’s time for you to utilize candle working with cleansing intentions in mind. White candles specifically!!! But In addition, with black candles there is usually some deeper energy to wipe out! I would start with a black candle with intention to burn out certain energies that may be holding you back or crowding over you in a negative way!! Soon after I would purify and cleanse a white candle and ~purify~ my energy!! Think of a washer machine and the process of putting the clothes in , adding your choice of soap & rinsing a few times , and soon after drying. So This could be a longer process of cleansing but for you..it’s very deep and effective!

You could be an Aries or a Virgo !! Also I’m feeling LEO energy !! You like to utilize a FLAME! And for you it works!! And it feels effective to you. Which is a bonus & all that matters!

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SMUDGE :

THEIR IS A VERY CLEAR MESSAGE if you are burning sage currently stop !!! (Unless culturally your practice)

There is a specific Range of herbs you are meant to use to cleanse yourself & I feel for a few of you sage hasn’t been as effective for you personally ! No hate against it it’s just that soul wise you haven’t felt any differences regarding how you feel ! So for those who don’t know what herbs are effective for you to smudge with I’m hearing

Frankincense and myryth & Dragons blood! Along with cloves & Cinnamon !!

I’m seeing bay leaves for some ! So there are a bunch of effective herbs for you to smudge with that will help to be effective for you as per your personal ENERGY! Now I’m not saying the sage won’t do what it’s meant naturally ,it just doesn’t seem to be effective for you personally! You smudging in general helps you to release your fears and your self limitations at that VERY MOMENT !!! Pairing your smudges with song or Chants are super powerful ! So powerful !!! It may even release so much energy for you you’ll encounter an emotional reaction & just start sobbing because of it! In the long run it will help you with rejection you experience / experienced! Helping you to put pieces of you back together !!! It helps , and is effective so don’t get discouraged by one method not doing what you want! Keep trying different herbs that you intuitively feel driven and guided towards !! It Helps to ground you as well. It’s important & imperative that YOU stay grounded.

*I am picking up Capricorn energy along with Cancer & Sagittarius!!*

ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ﾟ☾

Hope you enjoy ✨

IG:@ soleccentric

[niichanism]

another throwaway-ish acesabo fic i might finish eventually maybe not. the logic and characterization started bugging me but also this ain't about that. i wanted to write alpha sabo wearing a muzzle while rejection-sensitive omega ace is extremely pissed to be denied kissies

Me in 2014, unenlightened: omegaverse is just a cheap tactic to make stoic blorbos pathetic Me now: I think ace one piece should experience PMS 

set ambiguously after marineford but ace lives + nothing huge is going on with the RA

TW: omegaverse, pre-heat pms??? lmao, this one actually isn't that spicy it's just silly summary: ace: what if you helped me with my heat. hahaahaha jk. unless sabo: (malfunctions)

“Another meeting?”

Even Ace is surprised at the sharpness in his voice. It's been jumping out of him these last few weeks. He wants to swallow it back down, this twitchiness, but as Sabo turns his good eye back to him, he tries laughing it off instead.

“Yep.” His brother shrugs, smiling. “Duty calls.” “Hmm.”

Ace had his responsibilities as second division commander, but they so rarely involved paperwork. Everything was hands-on, on the go. Meetings were like rallies or even parties more often than not.

He misses it a lot. It feels wrong to sail under any other flag. But Pops was good at protecting people, and that's something Ace can do. Besides, Sabo is here. Sabo, who still has a way of keeping Ace relatively sane– up until recently, at least. There’s a moment where Sabo catches his withered expression, but neither of them say anything. 

Ace falls back on teasing, hand on hip. “I’m just wondering if you ever get to have any fun is all.” “I have plenty of fun, Ace,” Sabo huffs, “especially when you’re around.” “Oh, yeah?” Ace is fairly sure— Sabo must be thinking of the fun they had a few weeks ago.

They’d saved a coastal town from some shitty pirates, which was already a good time in itself. They went to the tavern to drink– the place had good stuff, on the house for good deeds– went back to a good room– it’s actually pretty foggy from there. The emotions remain more than the specifics.

But he remembers riding Sabo stupid. Lighting the lamps so he could see when the sky went dark. And how pretty he looked, panting, his golden hair haloed on the bed. His bruising grip on Ace’s thighs. The sensation of his cock swelling like he could knot Ace outside of a mating cycle. He remembers Sabo’s face, lost in pleasure– growling, even– eyes scrunched tight, the flash of his white fangs in his open mouth.

He remembers thinking that it was so good. In the morning, though, Sabo was gone. He’d left a note on the nearest surface, in a rough scrawl: gone on mission

S

The total lack of specifics was somehow just like him, so Ace had huffed and climbed back into bed. Half-conscious, he’d searched the sheets for the elusive scent so often trapped beneath Sabo’s stuffy, high-necked outfits. And he tried to pull together soft little shreds of memory from the previous night. He hadn’t meant to ruminate. Just to check. Because no matter how he turned it over in his head, it all still seemed like a dream. And if it had happened, should it have happened at all? They never talked about it. Busy, busy days in the Revolutionary Army. Normal, normal brothers who were still learning each other a year after meeting again. Maybe Ace had made a mistake. All those vivid images were  tiny embers that refused to die– for weeks now, he was plagued with curiosity. Then shame. 

When they first met again, Sabo hadn’t reacted to his second sex beyond a small, almost comical lift of his brows. Ace had been equally cool about it on the outside, and he held himself to that, but the fact that Sabo was an unclaimed alpha had gotten under his skin.

If he was going to be honest with himself, it was posing a real fucking issue. 

Ace had always been on the more impulsive side, but he really thought he smoothed that out�� if not in terms of danger, then at least when it came to getting along with people.

Of all people, Sabo should test him the least. 

And it sucks because he doesn’t, really. He and Ace still get on well. Better than well. What he's testing are Ace’s instincts.  Ace had always been able to ignore them in the past, so their constant pounding in his head had surprising power and he ended up blurting out stupid shit like never before. He hadn't even been that clingy when they were kids. He knew and yet the antsy energy remained, dunking his moods and driving him crazy.

“That’s a relief,” Ace says, throwing him his utmost charming, normal smile. Sabo doesn't seem to take it at face value– figures– but past the semi-concerned twitch of his brow, he manages not to fuss over it for about three seconds. 

“I’m glad, too. Are you… is everything good?”

“Everything's good,” Ace assures, a little too quick. The last thing he wants is Sabo looking at him like that.  “Go on, don't be late,” he urges good-naturedly, sending him off with a lazy wave. “You just let me know if you need any countries set on fire or anything, yeah?”

Sabo looks like he wants to ask something else, but they have another half-conscious second of conversation with their eyes. Sabo’s face crinkles slowly into a smile, and he leaves, taking part of Ace's peace of mind along with him. 

*

A week later, Ace visits Sabo in his room. “G’morning,” he yawns, hand on the doorframe. Sabo looks up from his desk– coffee in one hand, paper in the other.

“Ace. Good morning. Where have you been?” Sabo asks, casual enough. 

Ace closes the door behind him and leans against it, nearly clenching his teeth against the nerves in his gut. “Sphinx,” he replies cheerfully. “To visit Pops and Marco.”

Sabo turns away to set his newspaper down. “I see. How's Marco doing?”

“Good,” Ace replies. “He’s on top of things as usual. I just help out here ‘n there.”

The revolution lets him come and go as long as he's smart about it. Well, Sabo lets him come and go. Most of the world still thinks Portgas D. Ace is dead, and the RA thinks he should keep it that way until it's the right moment for a blaze of glory. 

No way that's happening until Ace gets his head screwed on straight again. But it's different when he has to be an omega about it. Show up at Marco’s door like a twitchy stray to ask what the hell his body is doing and how to make it stop. He's got a mind that’s too fond of bad ideas, but this sleep with Sabo or else one is throwing him for a loop. 

First of all, stop taking suppressants, Marco had said, way too coolly. You haven't had a mating cycle in– two years now?

Can't I just sleep with people and get it out that way?

Sorry, Ace. You have to pass a heat. 

Ace had gone quiet then, stomach dropping through the displeasure of it. 

You know, there's ways of making it easier, finding a safe partner…

No, I can handle it. I mean, I'll figure it out. Marco. Thank you.

So there it was. He'd tried to take a vacation from his unreasonable instincts only to find out they had to be confronted.

When he looked at his options, his brain became scrambled eggs. The anger in his heart demanded consolation and so he ended up right at Sabo’s door. 

“Want some?” Sabo asks.

It refreshes his attention, and Ace’s eyes fall upon the mug in Sabo’s elegantly gloved hand. That other kind of hunger stokes cinders inside of him. “Nah. Coffee's gross.”

Sabo smiles against the rim of the cup. “Useful, though.”

“How about we get some food in you down at the mess hall, too?”

Sabo raises his eyebrows. “Wouldn't turn that down. Give me a second.”

Ace glances around while the desk gets organized. “I also wanted to ask a favor.”

Sabo pauses where he's just stood up, and looks over, a little too keen for Ace’s liking. “Yeah?”

“See, I was wondering if I could…” he starts– then shakes his head, laughing at himself. He didn't learn to be polite for Sabo. He comes closer and clasps his hand firmly on Sabo’s shoulder, ignoring the low screech of desire that comes with it. “No, let me start over. Will ya lend me some of your clothes?”

He can't help the light pink flush on his own cheeks, but he's genuinely pleased at how Sabo’s face changes. 

He does the eyebrow lift thing, and his hazel-eyed stare becomes that much more sharp, like this simple question does what the coffee couldn't. Ace likes that he doesn’t look away. But then, he's also at a loss for words, unspoken or otherwise. If they'd never been separated, if Ace wasn't a tough guy and Sabo wasn't a child soldier, this would be an easy script to follow. 

Sabo glances down as if he has to examine what he's already got on. Those tough, tan pants that fall just right and the flouncy undershirt and fitted vest; Ace is vaguely amazed at how well put together he looks when the sun’s not even past the rocky horizon of Baltigo outside. 

“Lend you my clothes?” he repeats. “Here I thought you had such a problem with them.”

Well, yeah, they make Sabo look snooty as fuck and they seem as freeing as a straitjacket, but–

“I do, but nesting’s not about fashion, it's about scents.”

“Oh… that's what you mean?”

Now why is Sabo so alarmed, blushing like a village maiden?

“What?” Ace asks, pinning him with an edgy, somewhat challenging look. He crosses his arms, since Sabo looks like he wants to sink into the floorboards. “Why are you so surprised? Did you think I don't nest?”

“Well, no–”

“I nested even when we were kids. It was like the one normal thing I did.”

Sabo laughs haltingly. “I remember. It's just that you insisted it was for Luffy’s sake–”

“Yeah, we thought it might make him less whiny,” Ace reminds him. What a puzzle that had been. Pups raising pups– that Luffy turned out half-decent was a fucking miracle, and maybe Sabo had more of a hand in it than he did. The angel on his shoulder had a lot more sway when it spoke with Sabo’s voice. Makino had loved the idea of their nesting with the clothes she brought, though. Everyone loved Makino, so if she thought it was a good idea, Ace had figured it was. “I guess I just got in the habit, man. You don’t actually have to give me anything, don’t worry about it.” Bless his heart, Sabo doesn’t let this awful feeling in Ace’s stomach take root.

 “What? No, Ace, I didn’t say you couldn’t have any,” he says quickly, eyes as wide as a skittish woodland creature’s. “Please take something. It just surprised me. Nobody’s ever asked me before.” Ace sits with that for a few seconds. He shouldn’t feel happy that Sabo was deprived of meaningful pack bonds. But he feels light as air knowing that he’s Sabo’s first here, too. “Okay,” he says, grinning. When he catches sight of Sabo’s awkward, half-grimacing expression in turn, he snickers. “Could’ve just stolen some of your clothes to save us the awkward little chat, huh? You have so many, you wouldn’t have even noticed.” Sabo rubs his face between thumb and fingers, flustered. Another stilted laugh bubbles out of him. “No, I mean, sure, if you need something from me, you can have it,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Ace’s smile softens, but it feels like a supernova, a victory. He’s having trouble stripping his eyes away from Sabo, the genuine pleasure on his rosy face. “But I’m glad you asked.” Ace bites the inside of his cheek because he feels like he’s about to start purring and Sabo hasn’t even given him anything yet, hasn’t even touched him. He’s out of joint for sure. “No big deal. Used to nest with Luffy’s clothes, too,” Ace tells him. He wrinkles his nose. “He smells like meat and dirt, though.”

Sabo relaxes. “You love meat and dirt.” “I do,” Ace laughs. “Yeah, Lu smells weird as fuck and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ll take your gift too. Much appreciated.” And now that he’s got his consolation prize, Ace yearns to get the fuck out of there. Even if he’s curious about fucking Sabo again– just to check– his upcoming heat is something else. It’s going to be beyond terrible, so much so that he already feels like a sweaty human fireball when it comes to mind, and he honestly doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a reason he hasn’t stopped downing suppressants for two years. Sabo’s clothes and memories of nesting in their treehouse will have to do to ease his fraying nerves. Ace has been through worse, so he should be stronger. He should be stronger. He should pass his heat and then, if possible, have sex with Sabo once more just to get this heavy, cloying attraction out of his system– Ace claps his hands together. “That’s settled, then. Breakfast?”

He needs to do something with his body that isn’t standing here and taking in everything that makes Sabo Sabo. But his brother doesn’t budge or even glance at the door. “When do you need them by?”

 “Hm?” “I mean…” Sabo looks to the wall and back. “It’s soon, right? You stopped taking your suppressants.” Ace frowns, and twists his head over to sniff. “Damn, do I smell rank?” “No, no, you’re fine I think, as long as you don’t go anywhere too cramped or hot…” Sabo’s nose twitches; his mouth thins. “Are you going anywhere?” Ace’s eyebrows jump at the sudden steeliness in his voice. He fixes Sabo with a look on the border of teasing and genuine annoyance. “Sabo, have you never been around an omega or something?” “I have,” Sabo says, somewhat irritably. “Just… older ones, or… subordinates…” “Subordinates,” Ace repeats, teasing. “Well, it’s an army here, Ace, not exactly a family,” Sabo sighs, idly massaging one gloved hand with the other. “But now my brother is about to go through a cycle, so shouldn’t I make sure everything is fine? Are you going back to Sphinx for your heat?”

“Kinda thought I’d just stay here and bolt the door.” Sabo studies his face for a few seconds, then relents, throat bobbing. “Okay. Are you going to need… anything else?” “Well,” Ace starts. He puts his hands on his hips, rocks on his feet. “What’re you offering, Sabo?” Sabo swallows again. Ace almost hears it. Shit, it makes him want to pounce. “Oh.” He shows all his teeth. “I’m low maintenance, promise.” Sabo shakes his head, his smile completely lost on his face. Ace’s head gets foggy and hot and his mouth just starts moving.

“T’ tell the truth,” he admits, “it’s… gonna be a tough one to ride out since I haven’t had one for two years– that’s what Marco said. But it’s short notice, don’t really wanna go through the trouble of finding someone I can trust.” Despite knowing how terrible the heat is going to be– and it’s always worse than imagined– he can hardly think of anything that motivates him less than finding a viable partner out of the blue. The thought has worked like a boomerang, just bringing him memories of Sabo’s hands, arms, lips. Something tells him he shouldn’t trouble his brother with his cycle like this. Something else tells him that nothing in the world would be better. Like Sabo his brother and Sabo an alpha could be different things– and they’re not; Sabo is Sabo. 

Ace the brother and Ace the omega are different things, though, and by the four fucking seas, he should know to keep it that way.  “Are you serious?” Sabo asks. Again with the eyebrows raised way up, his stare both hawkish and disbelieving. Ace’s heart beats like a drum. This is a gamble, he knows. But he’d regret anything less. “Dead serious,” he drawls. Go big or go home, and he’s fearless. He understands very well that he can’t always get his way. Can’t make people want him. He gets that. They do or they don’t. It seemed like Sabo did that first time. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a world where Sabo doesn’t. Kind, loyal, capable, pretty-faced Sabo…

He holds up his hands. “If you don’t wanna, that’s that, but I remember last month– kinda– sorry ‘bout that–” “Don’t be sorry,” Sabo chokes out. Nice of him not to play dumb. Ace nods. “-- it was good! Real good. You’d be helping me out, if you’re up to it.” “Well–” Sabo falters. He shifts his jaw around, looks altogether way too serious, rigid. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ace.” Ace freezes. “Yeah, you’re right,” his mouth says without his permission. Now his heart’s beating in a bad way. Why’d he say that? Sabo never became a pirate. Maybe he’s not built for that up-front, casual kind of thing– “It’s not that I wouldn’t,” Sabo says with that same hasty voice from earlier. Now Ace recognizes that it’s not an endearing fluster, but a quick course correction meant to coddle Ace, and fuuuuck, he really showed his hand at the worst time.  “I just think– I’m not very available– I couldn’t be any help–” Again Ace’s hand comes down on Sabo’s shoulder. Maybe a little harder this time. “Sabo,” he says heavily, and sucks a deep breath in through his mouth. Sabo shuts up for the duration of his exhale, too, and then Ace smacks his shoulder a few times, grounding them both. “It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re super busy. It’s only a heat. Just forget it.”

Sabo looks more horrified than placated. Damn. Ace is pushing a smile harder than ever before because what else is there to do? Yeah, he’s pissed, but he’d be a prick to take it out on Sabo. 

“Wait, I don't think you understand. It’s not you at all. I just think–” “Yeah, I got it. Not cool of me to spring it on you. Way too short notice. And it’s just a heat,” Ace repeats, also trying to convince himself. His stomach feels like it’s about to mutiny, empty itself of its fat 8am nothing. Like nausea lives there now. 

So Sabo doesn’t want him.

That doesn’t even feel entirely true– But Ace is not going to push it.  No regrets, but also damn him and his bad ideas. Sabo grabs his arm. “Wait, Ace–”

He feels overstimulated and shrugs Sabo off. It takes a few seconds to even formulate a response around his brain mysteriously exploding with something like starvation pains. Sabo looks somewhat heartbroken for him, which is worse. It’s just a heat. Sabo is his own person, obviously. His own person who could probably have anyone other than Ace, what was he even thinking. 

Stalling, Ace ruffles his own hair back into somewhat of a bedhead, and tamps down as hard as possible on what wants to come out. You don’t want me? 

Am I causing problems again?

 Can you just hold me for a while, please, please– “If you feel like you need someone for it, just–” “Damn, don’t put words in my mouth,” Ace manages. He turns on his heel. “‘M hungry. I want food in my mouth. Let’s go get breakfast, Sabo.”

*

They sit across from each other for breakfast in the mess hall. If he’s around, Ace eats there even if Sabo doesn’t; like this, he learns the names of all the dour-faced veterans and bushy-tailed idealists, and they also know not to bug him if he lands face first in his plate. That doesn’t happen today. Sabo sits across from him with that disconcerted look, frowning more than Ace has seen him do in a while– it’s irritating– and Ace stuffs his face like they did not have that conversation. Once his stomach is fuller and he feels stronger, strong enough to hold his instincts at arm’s length again, he reasons that it went as well as it could’ve. Of course he had to ask. Was he just not going to ask? Like a coward? And at least now he knows. Yeah, he feels like a popped bubble or a capsized skiff now, strangled by that rejection in a way he hasn’t been for years, but this time it’s just omega stuff kicked up to eleven. That’s why it feels so beyond his control. 

He’ll get all his hormones sorted with a heat, and then he’ll stop feeling like Sabo’s lost, horny puppy dog. Awesome plan. He slams his bowl down. Sabo’s been talking to some staffers– he really does have his sexy little gloved fingers in everything all the time– and he glances up at the noise. “... No seconds?” “I said I’d help train some recruits today,” Ace informs him, stacking his tray up. Sabo frowns. “Really?” “Yeah– quit that, stop worrying about me.” Sabo takes a deep breath and rubs his neck. “I’m not…” Ace laughs. “Get better at lying. Look, this isn’t my first rodeo, okay? Won't be so bad. And us, we’re fine.” “Of course we are,” Sabo says, and leaves the but hanging in the air.  For now, Ace is fine with that. He whacks Sabo’s shoulder. “See you around?” “Yeah…” 

And the back of Ace’s neck tingles, because he feels eyes on him until the moment he leaves the room. * A nice breeze and a few hours of physical exertion do him good, even if he still feels like a time bomb. At least he can make himself useful until pre-heat starts kicking his ass.  He does indeed see Sabo around. He’s hard to miss at his height, with his stature, having left the top hat behind on this relatively casual day. And casual though it is, he sees Sabo cross from one end of the compound to the other, passing the training yard, no less than four times in six hours. 

Maybe that's not unusual? Except that Sabo stops to look at him every time, arms crossed and not quite focused. 

He's not there when the bell for dinner rings, which raises some questions, but Ace pushes it out of mind. He focuses on the roasted turkey and how he's going to have to ask for heat rations from the cook, who he hasn't quite won over just yet. Maybe in the morning when he’s less sleepy.

He's about to pass out in his room when there's a knock at the door and it opens. Huh. A guy has to question the point of knocking, then. 

“Ace?”

Sabo closes it behind him with his foot, approaches Ace’s bunk– nest half-made and sadly lacking– and waits for him to stand up before holding out a folded set of clothes. Ace can't help the way he perks up at the gift. 

As he reaches for them, Sabo leans in and sniffs. Ace goes still without even meaning to, mechanically closing his hands around fabric. 

“You're getting close.”

“Hi to you, too, Sabo.”

Sabo leans back with a frown. “I really think you should stay in until it starts, Ace.”

“How are you? I'm doing fine, thank you for asking.” 

“Ace.”

His voice is pinched. Briefly Ace traces the shape of his scar again and sighs. 

“I think I've got at least a day or two left ‘til it really sets in and gets, y’know, smelly.”

At age 18 he'd fought off a navy squadron in pre-heat, even, and any pirate in a mile radius knew not to fuck with him. Surely the revolutionary army guys are as disciplined as pirates? 

Sabo apparently doesn't think so. His face darkens. It's tough for Ace not to grin, but he tries. He brings the clothes closer to his chest. Sabo's wearing a whole other prissy outfit– so the ones he brought must've been from today. Ace feels itchy with that knowledge. 

He remembers practically tearing his brothers’ clothes off of them when they were kids, so brashly insistent on tossing them into bed, and laughs a little. Sabo scolded him then, too. 

“I'm not joking, Ace.”

“Obviously not,” Ace says lightly. “I can handle a fever, Sab. You worried about my hot, irresistible pheromones?”

Sabo’s face loosens like a lightning flash before his mouth firms up hard. Ace has the sense he's stepping on something he shouldn't. 

“Yes,” he answers, huffs, and rolls his eyes. “You know, a lot of these people haven't mated in years. If it was anyone but you, I’d probably ask you to use the heat rooms in the infirmary.”

That doesn't make him feel special. He scowls. 

“Don't really wanna be cooped up in any room at all for long,” he edges out. The worst thing is that he trusts Sabo is looking out for him, in his own needlessly intense  way. 

“Please?”

Ace catches the inside of his cheek between his molars.

“I'm telling you, ‘s not even pre-heat yet,” he says. His gland hasn't swollen up, there's no miserable heaviness to his groin, and he still has more than enough energy. So much energy he almost feels like he wants to fight.  

He's so hopeless sometimes. He sits on the bed just to put some space between them, looks dourly at Sabo. 

Sabo's surveying the room. There's a few trinkets, misplaced socks, log pose on the standard issue dresser. He hasn't made a home here, but it's something. 

“I still need to get my hands on some water and food for it,” Ace continues, trying the rational angle.

Sabo shakes his head, tic in his jaw. “I'll take care of that,” he says, and his voice is gentle, reassuring. And Sabo always does what he says he'll do, so. 

Ace frowns though. He feels fidgety, full of tinder sparks. He rubs at his neck, eyes shut. If he hunkers down now, he's just going to be… alone… for a while. And usually that’s no problem.

It's not like this room is a prison cell, but he learned just how slow a few days can pass when there's no one to talk to. He sends another silent thank you to Jinbei for keeping him somewhat more sane for that, but his friends can't do anything about his heat.

It's just a heat.

Sabo says his name and Ace realizes he doesn't know how long he was staring at his lap just now. 

“Ace?” Sabo sounds worried. “You still have your baby snail?”

“…Huh? It's somewhere.” 

“Right. So– that's how we’ll–” Sabo gestures, though he seems confused by exactly what he's doing. He pauses, puts his hands on his hips, and smiles. “You just call me on that when your heat starts.”

Ace’s brow twitches. He's not gonna show that side of himself to Sabo just for shits and giggles. Sabo looks at him and cools down, mouth falling open, smacked with some realization.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, are you still–” Again with the gesturing. “I changed my mind about what I said earlier.”

Ace leans back on the bed, incredulous. His arms are taut behind him. Sabo takes in the line of his body, then looks up. Oh, he's serious. 

“Changed your mind?” 

Sabo nods, all sincere, unflinching eye contact. “Yeah. I can’t just walk around doing business as usual while you're suffering in here. You even told me it was going to be bad. Can't take it lightly.”

Ace hums. Shit, he's getting too used to being saved by his brothers. 

Shaking his head, he pats the stack of clothes. “Couldn't have led with that, chief?” 

Sabo shrugs, smiling helplessly. 

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, voice butter smooth. “I have to get some things ready, and then I’ll be one call away when you feel it coming on.”

“Koala says you never answer your snail.”

Sabo makes a face. “Not fair, she's making generalizations. I can't always answer the snail if I'm sneaking around or fighting–” he takes another breath, pauses. “-- and I won't be– I mean, I'll be right here.”

“So…” Ace looks down. “You want me to hunker down now and just wait for you?”

It seemed like the biggest drag in the fucking world two minutes ago. To himself, at least, he can't deny all the warm, fuzzy feelings dredged up. Sabo also seems happy. They're on the same page again.

“I can bring you some comics tonight?” he offers. Ace laughs. 

He's a world-class wanted man who spent years in the Grand Line, and Sabo thinks he still likes comics? 

He's not wrong. 

“Ehh… just bring me all the papers with stories about Luffy,” he suggests, grinning. The two of them are collecting like crazy. “And the ones about Pops if you got ‘em.”

Sabo smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Excitement grows inside of him. There’s whole-body relief  for the first time in ages. He hates that it's not something he could've accomplished on his own, but– he knows better than that now. 

“Thanks, Sabo.”

Sabo nods. “I’ll take good care of you, Ace, I swear.”

Ace’s ears go hot. He chuckles, looking aside. “You don't gotta say shit like that.” 

“Well, I mean it–“

Ace crashes back into his bed, sprawled over clothes and extra blankets, head tilting back and eyes shut. “I trust you.”

Sabo walks a little closer into his peripheral vision. All serious-faced again. His chip-toothed, wild brat really grew up into a soldier. “Full disclosure, though,” he starts. “I've never shared a heat with anyone.”

“What a surprise,” Ace says breezily. Haha, looks like he's gonna be Sabo’s first again. 

 Sabo doesn't even catch the dig for what it is. Ace clears his throat. “You'll be fine. When was your last rut?” 

“Uh. Not too long ago, actually.” 

Ace looks up at the ceiling, considering that. It means that Sabo’s alpha instincts likely won’t be so intense. Ace isn't sure how he feels about it. He’ll be burning off two years of suppressed heats and also the traumatic stress, according to Marco. 

He worries his lip between his teeth, glances over. “Did ya spend it with anyone?”

He doesn't know why he asked that. 

Sabo sort of stares into the corner of the bed. “Not… really…”

Ace laughs even though he wants to hit something suddenly. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I didn't,” Sabo says with more certainty. Ace trusts that– and it's not his business, he reminds himself. Sabo’s free, all they ever wanted.  “I didn't share it with anyone. Full disclosure again, I don't like how I get during my ruts.”

Interesting. What does that mean? Ace tongues at the corner of one of his fangs and considers asking. 

He sits up, hunched over his knees. “Sabo. You will be fine. If anyone’s gonna embarrass themselves it's me.” Now that he thinks about it, that's pretty likely. His head dips as if the force of gravity hit it all at once, and he rubs the base of his skull.  “Sorry. I wouldn't bug you with this if it wasn't… believe me, it's just…” 

Something gets caught in his throat. 

“No, Ace, you can always ask.” Sabo is fast to sit down next to him. “I want you to ask.”

“Hey…” 

“You’re my brother,” Sabo says firmly. 

Ace can’t do anything but laugh. That really was one of the best ideas he ever had. He could get half-drunk on it at any time. He lifts his arm for Sabo to cross. Sabo returns the echo of their surprisingly idyllic childhood, then settles back into place, looking rather mindful of… something. That’s the thing with Sabo. He always seems to have a thousand things on his mind, but you can’t guess when or even if they’re going to come up. Ace leans over and nudges his shoulder. “I’d do the same for you if you had a bad cycle,” he swears, “you know that, right? Drop anything to take your knot.”

Sabo’s shoulders shake with his laughter, though it winds down fast and thin. His eyes flit away. “Dude, stop.”

Ace grins, leaning over. 

“Huh, maybe it is starting early…” “Ace, I mean it, please,” Sabo coughs into his hand and then stares at Ace so intently that any playfulness snuffs out. “I need to be prepared for your heat, as much as possible.” Ace blinks a few times. There’s an absurd amount of pomp and circumstance around this. It’s embarrassing, humbling– unexpected. He scoots closer and slaps his hand on Sabo’s back, hard. “Don’t treat it like a chore,” he says cheerfully. “You can have fun, too! I trust ya, and I’m not fragile. I’ve been working on my haki, I could probably kick your ass now–” “That’s not what I mean either,” Sabo says, ruefully shaking his head, but he doesn’t elaborate and Ace is getting sleepy. Sabo pats his thigh and stands up, winding an arm back to loosen up. “Alright, I’ll take care of reading material and the food ‘n water. You’ve got the clothes for nesting. Anything else?” “Nope,” Ace says. He said he was low maintenance and he means it. He shoots finger-guns. “Just you and that dick!” Sabo snorts. Ace tracks his movement and finds himself standing up, walking along to the door. Restless, suddenly. “Good night, Ace.” “Night, Sabo.” They stare at each other. Desire comes to life on the tip of Ace’s tongue. His skin prickles with it.

 Sabo is helping him. It’s too much to ask for anything else– especially not after all of Ace’s insistence that he didn’t even have his pre-heat yet. This isn’t need. Not his health. It’s just wanting. Inexplicable, childish wanting. Now that he’s going, Ace wants him to stay. With his hands, which touch Ace so easily; and his tough, pretty smile; and his scent, like the high canopies of the forest stretching toward the sun. In this stuttering, overborne moment, for once, Ace is unable to get his head around the feeling they’re sharing. There’s a huff– it could be either of them– and then Sabo nods, turns the knob, and leaves. Ace waves. Stands there, processing. When nobody and nothing else so much as crosses in front of his room in the next few minutes, Ace free falls into his privacy– into that clunky bed that’s so much more agreeable when arranged to soothe his instincts. Sabo’s offerings are washed in his scent. Ace buries his face in them. His heat is going to colossally thrash him this year. Now he’s stuck inside this tiny, sterile room for a while, too. And he is so, so lucky. The longer he has his nose to Sabo’s shirt, the luckier he feels.

It’s unfair of him to want more.  -

Sabo comes in the morning with a box of newspapers and a tray of breakfast. He has enough sense to have brought enough for both of them to eat together– they make room to do so on the floor. It’s surprisingly cozy. Ace cheerfully gnaws on toast and downs orange juice while pawing at the pages, eyebrows raised at this or that headline. He always grins whenever he sees “straw hat” emblazoned on the front pages. Sabo has the same enthusiasm, finding Ace first thing to show him whenever something new comes up. It’s been a little while, though.  “D’you think he’s okay,” Ace asks, mouth half-full of apple as he holds up one of the more recent ones. Sabo looks up, slurps the rest of a ham slice into his mouth, pauses. “... Of course he is.” “Uhuh.” Another bite. “Why’d you have to stop and think about it?” “He’s a little reckless, isn’t he?” Sabo notes lightly. “But you said yourself that it always works out for him.” He did say that. It does seem a little suspect though. Ace runs his hand back through his hair again, frowning. He knows Luffy is much bigger and stronger than he used to be. He’s reliable, in his own way. His friends will take care of him. All things that Ace has thought to himself any number of times, with increased frequency in the last few weeks. He can’t wait to start walking himself back from the edge. 

“Hey, it’s perfectly natural for an older brother to worry,” says Ace. “Sure is. Do you wish he was here?” “Yeah, a little,” Ace admits, since it’s Sabo– then he immediately thinks better of it. “Well. No, he should be out there becoming King of the Pirates, yeah?”

One-handed, he shifts some of the pages aside to find a picture of Luffy– well, a picture of Luffy’s wacky limbs splayed across the sky in some foreign land. How can you not root for him? When he glances up, Sabo’s smiling just the same as he is. “Yeah, of course,” Sabo replies. “You know… you know we can call him, right? Well, call the Sunny to talk to him.” Ace huffs. “What’s he gonna say? It’ll be the same as always. That kid....” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll see him when we see him.” “Alright, well, if I call him I’ll say you’re busy–” “Hey, if you’re gonna call him anyway, that’s different–” Sabo snickers. Ace starts cleaning up, annoyed again that Sabo has to play errand boy for him until his heat starts kicking his ass. “How are you feeling?” Sabo asks, setting the box of newspapers aside. “Fine–” Ace pauses when he feels Sabo’s bare hand on his forehead. He squints at him critically, an incredulous joke on his lips, but again, Sabo’s so intense at random times. It’s less work to just let him tire himself out. “You know,” Ace reminds him, gently lowering his hand, “you can’t really check my temperature ‘cause of the whole–” Sabo almost squawks when Ace makes use of his logia from the shoulders up, torn into red and orange flames licking the still air, then settling back into flesh. Sabo blinks at him, annoyed, while Ace gets his laugh in. 

ummmm ur honor i love them. anyway yeah the idea is like. ace in heat is very Not low maintenance and wait. this:

Ace in heat was boldly confrontational, glaring at Sabo like that.

 He started up with I’m sorry only to realize that Ace was channeling all that mysterious ire at his mouth– or, no, at the dull, thin bars of the alpha muzzle strapped over it. 

“You going to keep the gloves on, too?” Ace asked scathingly.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

instead of finishing the rest of this fic can't i just.. RP it or smth...

[luna0713hunter]

Some night,sleep comes easily to you.

On those nights,you don't need to do much;just the comfort of your bed,and a warm cup of tea is enough to lull you to sleep. On those nights,your dreams are vivid;a sound of laughter and a sunny sky. Everything seems easy on those nights.

But right now,as you lay in your bed and stare up at the ceiling in the dark,you wished it was one of those nights as well. But as the clock blinks and shows you the slightly too bright digits of 2:00 AM,and the several empty cups of tea,you know you wont get any sleep that night. And on the nights you can't sleep,dark thoughts always swarm your mind.

You turn your head away from the ceiling,only to bury it in the pillow by your head;and when you take a deep breath,the familiar scent of lavender makes you slightly dizzy.

Gods above,you miss Izana so bad.

Your boyfriend had texted you a few hours ago that he would be late,so you should head to bed first. But both of you knew that was impossible;ever since you two started going out, sleeping without one another was an impossible task. Ever since you experienced how it feels to have Izana's arm wrapped around your waist,your legs intertwined,and him whispering silly things in your ear only to make you giggle,you stopped bothering to sleep alone.

With another sigh,you turn your face completely in his pillow and you will yourself to not cry;Izana had his own stuff to worry about,he didn't need your whining right now.

You're so lost in thoughts that when you hear the familiar hum of the engine,you think you're only imagining things;after all, your boyfriend wont be home until the dawn,and you doubt anyone is stupid enough to go after you.

But when you hear not one,but three gentle taps to your closed window,you immediately jump out of bed and rush toward it. With a slight grunt,you push the windows open and let out a surprised gasp.

"Hey there, princess." Izana's silver hair shines brightly under the faint moonlight,but his grin is more blinding than any light. He's holding small pebble, seemingly having them thrown at your window "care for a ride?"

With a excited squeal,you rush down the stairs;still in your oversized t-shirt and shorts as you burst through the front door.

Izana's grin widens as he spots you,and immediately opens his arms for you. He lets out a low whistle when he sees what you're wearing.

"is that mine, babygirl?"

You let out a breathless laugh when he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"want it back?"

"heck no," his response is immediate as he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, "if you take it off I literally might die. In fact," he lets go of you for a moment before shrugging his jacket off and wrapping it around your smaller form. His grin is lazy and his violet eyes are hazy as he speaks next,

"looking good there, Captain."

Your cheeks flush deep red and you slap his bicep playfully; earning a loud laughter from your boyfriend. Your eyes soften when you see how young Izana actually looks like this;free with small tears on the corner of his eyes. And suddenly, you're leaning in and kissing him on the lips.

Izana lets out a surprised noise,but immediately kisses you back. His lips taste like strawberry,and you're guessing he probably had those candies he loves so much.

When you finally part,both of your cheeks are flushed,and a silly smile rests on your lips. Izana pecks your lips one last time before giving you the extra helmet he got for you when you started dating.

"ready to go, princess?"

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze once

"lets go, pretty boy."

And even on the nights where you cant sleep, you'll be ok.

For my lovely @milky-aeons

[rorykeanersactualgf]

request where the reader and Benny have a sleepover

CW: symptoms of a panic attack, descriptions of Benny being hurt (just a dream dw xx), fluffy stuff because Benny is the absolute best boy, Benny having happy tears from our love because he's so sweet and deserves all the love in the world :))

A/N: im so sorry these are taking a long time to get out but school has been kicking my ass and removing all motivation from me recently, especially with all the work i have to catch up on from reading full books for classes and doing course work but i have not left and i don't think i ever will :) as always if there is something wrong with this or anything you want changing then i am more than happy to help xx

The Night After

Through the night of the sleepover, a few... troubling dreams befell me through the night. Vivid images of blood, violent screams, and worst of all, Benny in despair, writhing beneath various torture contraptions, similar to the ones in the movies we saw earlier. I couldn't handle it.

I arose, sudden with a cold sweat running over me; hyper aware of my surroundings, but not aware enough to know that I woke Benny up. My breath shuddered and my shoulders trembled in the cold air of his room. I felt tears run hot down my face, mixing with my sweat and collecting at the base of my chin, some dripping down my neck and others cascading down onto my sleep shirt. I was in a trance, heavy attempts at breath failing to permeate my lungs and body, making me disassociate more. The warm hand placed gently on my shaking shoulder and a small murmur broke me out of it, I couldn't hear what he had said but when I looked over to him, my chest swelled with joy that he was okay and that it was all a dream.

It didn't stop the tremors that racked through my body, almost vibrating the bed but when I started to calm down a bit I could actually hear what he was saying now. Small affirmations that whatever woke me up was just a dream and that everything was okay fell from his soft lips and filled my ears, I turned towards him, feeling like a fragile piece of glass that could break any second. My eyes met his, my vision started to become more wobbly and distorted, my face felt hot, either from embarrassment or the tears but it didn't deter Benny.

His soft, deft hands wiping my tears away and stroking my hair, holding me close to him. While I leant in to him, my hands came up and held onto his forearms, legs came and entwined themselves in his and relaxed in to his side. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up,

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice croaked, still full of sleep.

"You almost died in my nightmare, I thought I lost you," my voice tapered off at the end, hoarse from sleep, struggling to breathe, and crying.

"Was it because of the movies earlier?" He asked with concern and love in his tone.

I didn't say much other than nodding and still basically seeing what was happening to him in my mind, hearing his vocal cords scrape while screaming, making me spill more hot tears, this time onto his shirt.

"I know, it's stupid. I'm sorry for getting my tears on your shirt," I say while trying to wipe them off, "I'm okay now, you should go back to sleep." I said with a small smile that barely reached my eyes.

Immediately, he started to shut that down, "No, no, no, no, no, its not stupid for crying over a nightmare that basically counts as trauma, you shouldn't feel sorry for getting your tears on my shirt, I don't mind baby, and I'm not going back to sleep knowing that you are definitely not okay. I'm staying up with you whether you like it or not my love," he said, a small smile on his lips and a gently kiss being left on my forehead and his arms gently tightening around me so I know he's serious.

We stayed up for a bit longer, making small jokes to make each other laugh and to cheer me up so I go to sleep easier and hopefully not wake up again through the night. Which actually worked, I fell asleep on Benny's chest, a stray leg strung across his legs and my arm holding him close like I was protecting him from the night. His head planted stop mine, a gentle kiss left on the crown of my head and his hand holding my leg in place.

When we woke up a few hours later, we laid in a comfortable silence, completely content with each others presence, happy that we were both still okay. I looked up towards his face and saw his sleepy grin, that seemed to never leave his face. My hand crept up to cradle the side of his face and rub small circles into it, his head leaning into the palm of my hand and letting a soft sigh escape.

We eventually got up and got dressed, brushed our teeth, and had some breakfast. We were sat in my living room when he turned to me,

"Want to go to the mall and window-shop, eat, and mess around in random arcades?" He said with a slight smile gracing his face and a head tilt, knowing that I would want all of that.

A small "Mhm," gave Benny the initiative to jump up and start getting some things together for our trip to the mall. When 15 minutes passed and I heard a big bang upstairs, I knew it was him. I cautiously climbed the stairs and peeked my head around the corner, being met with Benny laid on his back in the corridor, laughing slightly but I could tell he was in pain.

I stepped closer and noticed he was holding his foot, probably from stubbing one of his toes. My theory was proven right when he looked at me, a playful pout on his face with a small embarrassed laugh reverberating in his chest. I helped him up and asked what he was doing, to which he answered with a wince in pain and a simple "I was thinking of how to surprise you with these," holding up a copy of my favourite movie and a teddy bear, which he made with his magic.

I gave him an upside down smile and a kiss to his forehead and thanked him for being so thoughtful and sweet. We went back downstairs and after I helped him with his foot and we were off to the mall.

After a short bus ride to the mall, Benny and I had a walk around the various stores; looking at all the figurines of our favourite characters in some games stores, meandering through the aisles in hot topic, going to clothes shops and making some god awful outfit mixes that had us doubling over in the middle of an urban outfitters, and getting some pizza to top off our little visit.

While walking out of the mall, I saw a small ice cream stand, holding our favourite flavours, dragging a happy Benny over to the stand with a big smile on my face, bounding like a child seeing a puppy and when Benny realised why I was so happy; he reflected that by grabbing me by my forearm and sprinting over to the stand, effectively dragging me until I caught up with him.

Slowing down when we were a few feet away, we waited in line for a few minutes and started talking again. It was mainly about the stuff we got and what we wanted to do afterwards, bringing up the point of wanting to stay at Benny's that night. He was immediately on board because not only did he get to spend more time with his hot partner, he also saw it as an opportunity to make it up to me for having that nightmare earlier, even though it wasn't his fault.

We got our ice creams and started walking to his house. About 10 minutes into our walk to a bus stop, we finished our ice cream and continued in a comfortable silence until we got the bus stop. We sat down and only then did the events of the day caught up with me and I felt tired.

With my eyes drooping and my breathing levelling out, I rested my head on Benny's shoulder and held onto his arm and nuzzled my head into his neck, inhaling deeply and sighing, feeling more comfortable.

Benny looked down at me and held his arm around my waist after I let him go and held his other hand instead, his gentle grip around me made me feel safe in his arms and let me relax further. This became more apparent when he started drawing soft circles into my side, tickling but not enough for me to move away.

When the bus eventually came, he nudged me to wake me up and we got on the bus to his house. The journey didn't take long since he laid on my lap having a little nap of his own while I played with his hair and listened to music. On the odd time I would go to change the song and stop playing with his hair for a bit, his nose would scrunch up a bit and start reaching for my hand again, not without a few disgruntled groans leaving his chest.

We eventually made it to a bus stop near his house so I had to wake him, which was easier said than done. Once he finally woke up, we rushed off the bus, just barely getting off before it left.

We got inside and we started planning what we wanted to do, Benny using most of my ideas since he still felt bad. We ended up playing a few board and video games, Benny still being as competitive as ever but not without making sure I still won now and again. As the night progressed, we started getting hungry again so we ordered some take out and put on a movie while we waited.

He let me pick the movie and because we needed a good distraction for about 30-45 minutes, I put on my favourite comedy movie. 20 minutes in to the movie and we had basically forgotten about the take out and was almost crying with laughter.

After a few more minutes, the loud knocks took us out of our fits of laughter, looking over at each other and starting to giggle a bit. Benny took liberty of getting the food and came over with the take out bags and boxes and placed them down on the coffee table, getting a plate and some utensils from the kitchen.

We continued to eat and talk while watching movies and tv shows, soon getting tired and curling up together. The warmth of Benny's hands placed featherlight on my sides gave me a comforting shiver up my sides and spine, feeling my eyes slowly close when I remembered I didn't have any pj's. I sat up and turned to Benny, sat bushy tailed and happy.

"You okay?" Benny asked with a quirk of curiosity in his voice.

"This might sound weird but I forgot my pj's, can I borrow some of your clothes?" A shy smile found its way onto my face, blush slowly creeping up my neck in anticipation of his answer.

"Of course you can, what do you want to wear?" His enthusiasm seeping into his words, making my heart flutter in my chest.

We went upstairs and looked for some clothes for me to wear. I ended up with a slightly oversized collared shirt and a pair of his shorts, quickly changing in his bathroom and getting ready for bed while he went downstairs to let me change and quietly shouted up to me to bring down a pillow and blanket since he had forgot them when he was up there with me.

Benny saw me slowly descend the stairs as to not wake up his grandma and he swears it was like something out of a movie, like I was walking down the steps in a ballgown/suit/fancy clothing, to meet him and let him take me by the arm to a fancy dinner. In reality, I was in mismatched socks, his clothes, and a pillow and blanket stuffed under my arm.

He met me at the bottom of the stairs, taking the blanket and pillow from under my arm and giving me a small kiss on my forehead, leaning to my ear and whispering "You look amazing in my clothes, I love you."

We made our way to the couch and turned on a random movie, instantly curling into each other. My arms wrapping tightly around Benny's shoulders, my hands drawing feather-light designs on his arms, back, and shirt, occasionally making him shy away from it when accidentally tickling his sides.

One of my legs laid absentmindedly over his stomach, leaving just enough room for him to hold it and rub gentle circles on the outside, a warm feeling flooding my chest at his simple acts of affection that I would never get used to and never tire from. His face nuzzled into the side of my neck since he was laid lower than me, a soft kiss was left on the edge of my jaw and one right on my cheek, slowly inching towards my lips. I turned to him and left a long kiss on his lips and when we pulled away from each other, his face and ears flushed a bright shade of red, still not used to the affection I gave him either apparently. At this, his head laid on my chest, definitely hearing my heart pound in my ribcage from our close proximity and the shared love we have for each other. Of course, because he is Benny, he had to make a comment about it.

"Is that all it took to make your heart race? I should do that more often." His signature smirk following.

"I don't know how your talking with that blush all over your face and ears, B." I replied, matching his tone.

"Shut up." His smirk turned into a lopsided smile, blush only creeping over his face, and now neck, even more.

We both laughed and turned back to the movie, trying to pay attention to it. I, however, struggled to keep my eyes off of the boy laid with me, his fluffy brown hair tickling my neck and chin when he moved, his surprisingly strong arms wrapping around me even tighter the more tired he got, his gorgeous green eyes, sparking like emeralds in the occasional bright flash of light from the tv, his soft lips that seemed to always be pulled in a smile or smirk, his frequent nerdy outbursts when we were together and I would reference something, knowing he would love it, his awkward but cute dress sense, just everything about him made me fall more and more in love with him everyday.

I started playing with his hair while he was talking about a little easter egg he noticed that connected movies together and he stopped abruptly in his tracks. His gaze averting from the tv and going towards my face, curious to what I was up to, if anything.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing, I'm just admiring you my love. I've never really noticed how absolutely beautiful you are, not only are you beautiful but you're funny, sweet, cute, nerdy, a gentleman, a man with a heart of pure gold, but you know just how to make me feel better when I'm upset or annoyed at something because you listen so well, you never judge me no matter how strange some of the things that I say or do are. I'm so happy that you're with me and that I get to give you all the love you deserve because you're perfect, I wouldn't change you for the world. I love you Benny Weir. I mean it."

When I finished my little monologue of love for him, I felt him squeeze me tighter to him, warm tears fell down his face, making me panic slightly. Sitting up and pulling him with me, I held both sides of his face, scanning fervently over his features to see if I said something wrong when I was met with his growing smile. Confused, I inquired why he was crying.

"It's just - um, no ones ever said anything like that to me before. Stuff like that just doesn't really happen to me. I'm sorry for crying, I'm just so happy and I feel so loved. I love you, I can't live without you." He rambled, the word melding together but still making sense. I pulled him closer and fell back with him laid fully on top of me, and I whispered in his ear.

"I'll tell you things like that everyday if I have to just to make you feel loved because you deserve it, B. I love you." I solidified my last sentence with a kiss and a long hug caressing his back, shoulders, and playing with his hair, continuing to whisper sweet nothings to him. Unbeknownst to me, his heart fluttered in his chest at my words, his brain almost short-circuiting and his tears coming to a slow stop.

He looked at me with puffy eyes, a red nose and a lovesick smile, still absolutely gorgeous to me. My hand came up and brushed away his previously fallen tears, then holding his face in my hands to keep him as close as humanly possible. We shared that moment of closeness for what felt like eternity, which in reality was only a few minutes before he leaned back to look at me for a while. I could practically feel the heart-eyes and love emanating from his face, soaring to my eyes and soul, not wanting to look away.

It only took us a moment for us to be back to giggling from our serious moment, from us both not really being used to having moments like that. We shared one final kiss before Benny laid back down on my chest, head resting over my heart, hearing it beat just for him, knowing that he was the only one I loved.

We ended up falling asleep, not knowing what time it was when we did but content in our places.

The following morning :))

Apparently, Benny had made plans with Ethan to come over the next morning to hang out with us, it was that or he managed to break in without waking us or his grandma up, which was a miracle in of itself seeing as to how clumsy he is. I woke up to a fairly confused Ethan looking at the mess we made from the sleepover, to Benny's clothes on me, and to his lightly snoring best friend, clinging to me like I was a form of life support. He didn't say much but I could tell he had a few questions, some I don't think even he wanted the answer to.

I just looked at him and shrugged, a quiet `I don't even know myself,' was all that could be heard... aside from his slightly growing in volume snores. I didn't want to share Benny's moment of vulnerability seeing as it was something he apologised about doing, I would let him bring it up on his own terms if he pleased.

Eventually, Benny woke up in the middle of a conversation about what ice cream flavour we would be and why, to which Benny answered "Personally, I'd be vanilla and chocolate brownie. Basic, but a classic that you can never go wrong with." We continued to talk and debate, spanning from which animals we could beat in a fight to what superpower would be the worst to have and why.

Our lives were strange, there's no doubt about that... but I wouldn't have it any other way.

[muddyorbsblr]

circumstances of succumbency [kinktober 2023: bath/shower]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You and Magnus get stranded on the road while working a case and sought shelter at an inn that only had one room left. And one bed.

Pairing: older!Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, kindly exit stage left I'll only ask nicely once); unprotected p in v sex; slight mention to masturbation/wankst; language; Magnus is her superior/boss so there's a bit of a power dynamic going on [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; mutual pining; one bed only trope; translations in the Author's Notes

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): When Magnus says "I won't have you apologizing", the smut starts. Proceed with caution.

"We're not going to be of any use to this case sleep-deprived and dragging this car through a snowstorm, Y/L/N. We should find some shelter and start fresh in the morning, and hopefully the weather will be a bit more agreeable."

Those were the famous last words that hammered in several nails to your coffin. You were still about an hour's drive away from the residence of a person of interest in your current case, but with the current state of the weather, you were more likely to get stranded in the middle of the road with a broken down engine than actually make it to your destination if you two stubbornly kept on your drive.

That was how you two ended up at a cozy little inn, the lady at the front desk shamelessly checking out Detective Superintendent Martinsson while she tried to book two rooms for you. A disappointed scowl painted her face as she told you both that there was only one room left for the night. With one bed.

Of course this happens, you grumbled internally. One room, one bed, one horny Y/N.

He tried to be a gentleman and offered you the bed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole arrangement as well. But after you both realized that there was no other furniture that the towering older man could somehow pretzel-fold himself into and sleep in for the night, you simply agreed that you'd pick a side of the bed and put the entire situation out of your minds come morning.

You distinctly remembered putting a considerable effort to count sheep and make your mind shut off despite the biting cold, slipping into slumber a shivering curled up heap on your side of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off and flopping onto the hard wood floor. So why was it that when you opened your eyes, the morning sun barely shining through the heavy clouds, you were deceptively comfortable and warm, with an arm wrapped around you and holding you against the lean and muscular body of the man that had been invading your most vivid scandalous dreams on a nightly basis?

This isn't happening this isn't happening, you tried to tell yourself, trying not to lean in to his warm embrace despite every cell in your body literally screaming to do exactly that. You're still dreaming, Y/N, it's time to wake up. He shuffled even closer to you, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that sounded like he was almost…contented. The feel had you putting your fist to your mouth and biting down on your skin to refrain from making a sound.

Much as this was exactly where you fantasized about being when you were in the safety of your own home, you knew you had to squirm out of his sleep-laden embrace. You slipped your hand into his and tried to guide his arm up and away from your waist, only to have him reflexively pull out of your hold and go right back to holding you, shuffling even closer and letting out a whining sound as if he was bargaining to stay asleep for a few more minutes.

Before you could try again, you froze in his embrace when you felt his lips press a kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a near-reverent whisper of your name. You bit harder into your skin in a desperate attempt to hold back a moan as he kept on kissing a trail to your shoulder in lazy movements, obviously being guided by his sleep-adled brain.

Which had a little voice in your head screaming the question: If he was moving and talking the way he did because of his dream, then why did he say your name?

You didn't give yourself the time to mull it over, not willing to risk staying a second longer and having him wake up and have the sight of his disgust and shame seared into your memory. As fast as you could manage, you lifted his arm off you and rolled away from him, situating yourself again on the very edge of the bed and pretending that sleep still had its hooks in you.

Despite having slept in a bed that wasn't his own partnered with the undue stress of being stranded by means of a rather nasty snowstorm, Magnus had slept rather peacefully through the night. He was blessed with a rather blissful dream where by some miracle you didn't turn him away after he'd confessed his feelings for you. You even returned them.

And before you two headed off for work, he held you in bed and got to rouse you from your sleep with teasing kisses to your neck. The dream had felt so real that the image might stay with him to keep him company in the cold nights to come after closing this case with you.

When he woke in your shared room at the inn and saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to turn that dream into reality and pull you into his embrace. He was only stopped by the dreadful thought of how you could possibly react to such intimacy.

Probably with a right hook, a resignation letter, and a sexual harassment lawsuit in that order, you idiotic knob, he hissed at himself, sighing as he shrugged the covers off him and decided to check if the roads were clear enough to resume driving in a few hours.

He walked around the bed and couldn't resist the urge to take his covers and drape them over your own after seeing how you visibly shivered in your sleep. You let out an unintelligible sound while he was tucking the covers around you. "I'm up, I'm up," you mumbled, shifting around groggily.

"We don't have to leave yet," he spoke softly, doing his best not to wake you fully. "Just gonna check if it's safe to go back on the road." He moved your hair away from your face, a warmth spreading through his body upon seeing how serene you seemed in sleep. "You can rest a little while longer, sweet girl."

You let out a long exhale, a tiny contented smile playing at the corner of your mouth when you relaxed and leaned into his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to hold you just so for a few moments longer, nor the urge to press the lightest kiss between your brows before he stood and walked out of the room.

Mercifully the roads seemed much clearer and you two could probably resume your drive and your investigation in a few hours. Before that, though, he needed to go for a run. And hopefully keep all those intrusive thoughts of returning to your room and giving into his desires at bay. Sleeping in the same bed with you had blurred the lines of your relationship so dangerously that it took everything in him to remind himself that you deserved so much better than to have him shatter your trust in him by taking advantage of you and this situation.

"She deserves better than this. Better than you," he grumbled as he walked to his car to take out his running shoes.

With every pound of his feet on the pavement he tried to put it out of his mind the image of just how beautiful and peaceful you looked in bed. Tried to beat into submission the urge to crawl back under the covers next to you and roll the dice. The fantasy that perhaps if he pressed his body to yours your response would be to settle into his embrace. To press back.

Before he knew it three laps around the property turned into five. Then seven. Then ten. At the end of the tenth lap, Magnus somehow convinced himself that the distance he'd covered had placed a physical distance between him and the taunting image of you sleeping on the bed you two had shared last night.

He figured as well that enough time had passed and perhaps you'd woken up of your own accord, and you'd be alert and ready to get back on the road with him and get closer to cracking open the investigation.

There were two things that Magnus noticed once he'd returned to your shared room. First, you were out of bed, which only gave him the most temporary relief from the fantasies that were taunting him ever since he made the most foolish mistake of agreeing with you that you were both grown adults that could handle sharing a bed for the night while you were stranded.

The relief didn't last long because second, he heard the shower running. And now he struggled to even breathe knowing that mere feet away behind that closed bathroom door, you were naked and wet. And he wanted nothing more than to peel off the sweat-soaked layers of clothing on him and bring his daydreams to life.

"Stay where you are, Martinsson. If you give in, you'll lose her forever. Not to mention your badge," he grumbled to himself, burying his face his hands trying to put the mental image of what you might have looked like on the other side of the door well out of his mind.

That was until he heard a sound that seared itself into the darkest recesses of his most vivid fantasies. Whimpers that echoed off the tiles escaping through the bathroom door, followed by what sounded like a filthy variation of the talks he'd once heard you give yourself in the locker room before some of your more intimidating interrogations.

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, either think of someone other than Magnus Martinsson and get it over with so you can actually face him when you get back to the fucking car, or give up and turn the bloody shower on cold."

The air left Magnus' lungs once he heard the frustration that laced your tone. The words unraveling his restraint once it reached his ears. If knowing that you were on the other side of the door touching yourself already had his sanity and restraint hanging by a final thread, the realization that he was the subject of your fantasies snipped at that thread with the sharpest, most ostentatious shears known to man.

He never rushed to take his clothes off so fast in his life.

As soon as you heard Magnus step out of the room you rushed to the shower, trying your damnedest to get the vivid horny daydreams out of your system before he returned. You got close the first time, but then your mind wandered to how his lips felt on your skin when he kissed your neck. And then how those same soft lips kissed your forehead before he left the room.

And with every attempt it was like that elusive climax slinked away farther and farther, taunting you that the only way you could actually get to it was if you surrendered to the fact that the only way was letting the fantasy that starred the devastatingly attractive older man play out in your mind.

Screw it, it's no use, you told yourself, closing your fingers around the lever to turn the shower into its coldest setting.

Before you could change the temperature, a large hand closed around yours, fingers deftly prying yours away from the lever. Your body froze at the feel of another, equally naked body pressing against your back.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you when Magnus whispered your name, tracing his fingers up your spine and across your shoulder. Fuck, why was he doing this? you screamed inwardly. It was a bad enough situation why is he making it worse?

"Look, I'll stay in the back and I won't make a sound," you choked out, barely audible over the sound of the water. "You'll have my badge on your desk the moment we get back--"

"You will do no such thing." His words came out husked, laced with a combination of conviction and desperation that you couldn't rationalize for the life of you. "Turn around, sweet girl. Look at me."

You could feel your entire body tremble and shiver despite the hot water coming down, your knees shaking with every shuffling step you took to face him, not even sure where to look once you have. Ultimately you decided to shut your eyes, refusing to look anywhere for fear that your eyes might travel too far South.

"Magnus I'm sor--"

"Shh shh, darling." He tilted your chin upward. "Look at me, please. Let me see those beguiling eyes of yours." His thumb gently pressed on your quivering lips, tracing along your bottom lip until he coaxed you into a pout. You took a breath before opening your eyes, gasping when you caught sight of a soft smile on his face, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that had your knees shaking even more. "There you are, sweet girl," he rasped, before leaning in and giving you a soft, tentative kiss.

You let out a whimper once he pulled away, causing him to let out a guttural sound before he pulled you flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, warm and pulsing on your skin.

"I won't have you apologizing," he told you huskily, hands traveling down your sides, squeezing your hips for a moment before stopping at the backs of your thighs. "And I won't have you resigning, either." He smirked at the little squeak that came out of you when your feet left the tiled floor, pressing you against the wall. "I won't have any of that talk from those perfect lips of yours."

He captured your lips with his in a kiss that stole your breath away, letting out a guttural sound against your mouth when your fingers weaved into his dampening curls. Your other hand dug into his shoulder as if holding on to any last remaining shred of your sanity while he maneuvered you so that your hips were lined up. "Magnus what're you--Oh f-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body shuddering in his hold as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your entrance.

"The only thing I will have from now on, sweet girl, is you." His lips latched on to a spot between your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he slid into you in a single smooth motion, your walls more than slickened enough from your failed attempts just minutes ago to bring yourself to climax. "Fullkomlighet," he whispered into your neck. "Du känner dig som himlen."

The sounds of your combined moans filled the room as he moved in you, first in slow, measured thrusts and gradually getting more frantic until the sounds of your pleasure were cut through with the sharp wet snap as your hips met. Your mind in such a haze that you hadn't realized how close you were to the release you'd been chasing earlier until his hand went back down to where your bodies were connected, fingers quickly finding and flicking hurriedly at the underside of your clit.

"Magnus!"

"Let go. I need to feel you coming apart around me. Just let go with me. I've got you, min kärlek."

He muffled your high pitched screams slanting his mouth over yours, deliciously groaning into your mouth when your tongues met in a desperate tangle. His hand curled around the back of your neck, keeping you from breaking the kiss while your body completely weakened and surrendered to your climax.

The sound of the shower knob turning broke through your haze. "Hmm?" Your unarticulated question quickly turned into a squeal muffled by his mouth when he shifted his hold on you, his length still hard. Still throbbing. And still inside you.

He began to walk you out of the bathroom. He smirked against your lips when you began to whimper, every step he took making you bounce slightly on his cock.

It was only once he had you laid out under him at the center of the bed that he broke the kiss, giving you a soft peck and a nip at your bottom lip before pulling away, his face hovering a few inches above yours. "Breathe, min kärlek." He moved your hands above your head, capturing both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them down to the mattress. "We'll leave and get back on the road in a few hours."

Magnus started moving in you again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss when you arched your back off the bed, feeling every ridge of him sliding against your walls. "Wait, Magnus what do you mean--"

"I'm going to need a little more time with you before I can even think of getting back in that car and enduring the rest of the day without touching you, sweet girl." He let out a sinful moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "And then when we finally finish this case, you're coming home with me. From now on you're mine, min kärlek. Are we clear?"

Your answer caused him to snap his hips into yours. "Yes, Sir."

A/N: I've finally finished this piece and hopefully I can bang out (pun absolutely intended) another one this week for Conrad. Yes, I know October's done, but the initial goal stories aren't yet. And the stretch goal stories, as promised, are definitely still coming.

And while we're on the subject of biting off more than I can chew, I've made the decision to join NaNoWriMo again this year, so let's see if I can meet that bonkers goal of 50k words 🫡

Hope y'all liked this piece of older!Magnus spice 😏 Please do prepare yourselves for the next piece, 'slow & soft' with James Conrad because at the moment that is a chonky boi with 4k words…and I've only just gotten to the smutty bits.

Translations: Fullkomlighet – Perfection Du känner dig som himlen. – You feel like Heaven min kärlek – my love

And here's a gif for everyone that reads to the end:

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Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

@steddie-week Day 1: Pining | 1.2K words | Rated M for mild smut and canon-typical gore

In Hawkins, things slowly return to normal. Evacuees filter back into town, back into their patched-up homes, and Main Street turns from a crater to a construction site. Even the high school is open again, though Steve doesn't know how the others manage to focus on school while they're all still waiting with bated breath for Vecna to make his next move.

Still, life goes on.

But not for everybody.

Wayne doesn't look up at the sound of the door opening. He knows it's Steve. His eyes are fixed on Eddie lying too still, too quiet, amidst the beeping machinery that surrounds his bed. Most of the bandages have been removed now, revealing a mess of stitches and angry scars that stand out too vivid against his pale skin. Despite it all, he looks peaceful.

"Any change?" Steve says as he hands Wayne a coffee: black, no sugars. The stench of burnt beans tickles the inside of Steve's nostrils. They've both stopped commenting on the taste.

"Fluttered his eyelids a few times." Wayne sighs and looks over at Steve. "No change."

Steve nods, taking a sip of his own coffee. The walkman on Eddie's chest clicks off, the tinny sounds of Master of Puppets escaping his headphones fallen silent, and automatically Wayne reaches over to press rewind. Like Max's Kate Bush, the album plays on a constant loop. Steve's sat listening to it so many times he probably knows it as well as Eddie by this point.

Honestly, it's kind of growing on him. He hopes one day soon he'll be able to tell Eddie that.

"I can stick around longer if you want to grab some sleep after work."

"No, I'll be here," says Wayne. He's still in his uniform from this morning. Steve wonders how long it's been since he actually went home. With a parting kiss to Eddie's forehead he says goodnight, tells Eddie he'll see him again first thing tomorrow. There are deep, dark bags beneath his eyes when he turns to Steve.

"Drive safe," Steve says.

Wayne gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze on his way out of the room.

And in the quiet that follows, Steve settles into Wayne's vacated seat, picks up the battered copy of The Hobbit from the bedside table, and takes Eddie's hand. "Hey, Ed," he says. "It's Steve. Shall we pick up where we left off?"

It's well past dawn by the time Steve heads home. He crawls into bed and closes his eyes.

"Finally," Eddie says with a smile. "I've been waiting for you, dude."

He's lying beneath Steve, hair fanned out across the pillow and tangling around Steve's fingers as he slides a hand through it, and Steve kisses him. His mouth is on Eddie's jaw, his neck, his chest, the scars melting away beneath Steve's touch, and he knows that if he can just kiss Eddie everywhere he can fix things.

Eddie doesn't give him the chance, though.

"Steve," he gasps. He slings an arm around Steve's shoulders to pull him close, his other hand sliding down to Steve's ass as Steve rocks into him, steering his movements, licking into his mouth to taste Steve's moans. Steve clings to him, feels Eddie push up against him in turn, and it's still not enough. He's still too far from Steve.

Beneath him, Eddie drops his head back against the pillow and closes his eyes.

"Eddie," Steve says, breathes the words into his skin as they move together, "you need to wake up."

But Eddie doesn't. He's just gone. The bed's empty around Steve, Eddie's soft moans choked away into silence, and Steve's eyes snap open. Bright sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains; the distant sounds of repair work taking place filter into the room. Steve sits up in bed, still panting, hard, and alone.

It isn't the first time. It isn't the last. Every time Steve manages to catch a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep, he dreams of Eddie.

He watches Eddie on a stage, staring up at him in awe with the rest of the crowd as red lightning arcs through the sky behind the band. Mid-solo, Eddie catches sight of Steve in the front row. The crowd screams when Eddie winks back at him.

He stands alone, somewhere black and cold and quiet. "Steve?" Eddie's voice calls, but no matter how hard Steve tries he can't find Eddie in the darkness. "Steve, I don't know where I am." Steve wakes from that dream with tears streaking down his face, and though Wayne and Dustin are keeping vigil at Eddie's bedside he races straight back to the hospital, just to make sure Eddie hasn't slipped away while Steve slept.

They lie together in a room Steve doesn't recognise but can tell is home, Metallica drowning out the sounds of the world beyond their bedroom. Steve rolls over in bed and cups a hand to Eddie's cheek. "Wake up, Eddie," he says, and Eddie's nose scrunches as he buries his face back in the pillow with a grumbled, "five more minutes."

Most dreams they're back in the Upside Down. Steve fights side by side with Eddie, staring on in horror as the swarm brings him down, or he arrives back at the trailer park to find Eddie in Dustin's arms, blood on his lips when Steve kisses him goodbye.

Sometimes, he reaches Eddie in time to save him.

Time passes. The routine stays the same. Steve reaches the final page of The Hobbit in the 2am stillness of the hospital and sets the book down with a sigh. "Well, you've really gotta wake up now, dude," he says, brushing a stray curl away from Eddie's face. "'Cause no way am I reading you the whole series."

He stifles a yawn and rests his head in his free hand, the other still curled tight around Eddie's, waiting for a twitch of movement, some tiny hint of a response. His breathing falls into time with the rhythmic beeps and hissing of the equipment, and slowly Steve's eyes close.

"Steve?" It's Eddie's voice. He's stood in the doorway when Steve spins round, still wearing his bloody, tattered Hellfire t-shirt, eyes wide as he stares back at his own body.

He looks like he's seen a ghost, looks like he did that day back in the boathouse: small and terrified and in no way equipped to deal with the madness he was being dragged into. Steve had ached for him then. He aches for Eddie again now.

Eddie only drags his gaze away from the bed when Steve touches a hand to his blood-stained cheek.

"It's okay, Eddie," Steve says gently, like any sudden move might scare him away. "You're okay. All you need to do is wake up."

Before Eddie can respond Steve's blinking awake, the dream slipping away through his fingers. His heart thuds against his ribs as he looks around the room, just in case. But Eddie's still asleep beside Steve, still lost somewhere inside himself.

Steve buries his face in his hands and lets a single, quiet sob escape his chest.

The next time Steve sleeps, he doesn't dream of Eddie.

He wakes with an aching kind of emptiness in his chest and dread curling in his gut. It's a long time before he finds the strength to drag himself out of bed and shuffle downstairs.

There's a flashing light on the answering machine when he does. Bracing himself, Steve hits play.

"Steve, it's Wayne Munson," the voice crackles on the tape. "He's awake."