#day 13 continuation tomorrow (or next anyway. might not be tomorrow)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 27 - Voiceless, “I have no mouth and I must scream”

I feel like I’ve been mean to Wind a lot heh, I feel bad for the little guy. It���s better than the three arrows I put in his chest in that other fic! ...Maybe, anyway.

Warnings: redeads

Ao3 link

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Wind was not happy.

He struggled and kicked, tried to squirm out of the bruising hold on his arms, went limp and tried to just give the two soldiers dragging him along some underground passageway as worse of a time as possible. They’d already taken his weapons and only held him tighter as he struggled, but Wind kept it up anyway.

One of the Yiga grumbled in annoyance as Wind kicked at his legs, and he felt a glint of satisfaction.

“Rotten kid, that attitude will die plenty quick where you’re going,” the other Yiga snapped, ignoring Wind’s attempts to bite him. “This cell was for the hero, but what better way to lure him there than to dump his little brother in it first?”

“You built a cell underneath the outskirts of a village? Wow, that’s normal well-adjusted behavior,” Wind huffed, and one Yiga sneered.

“We merely adapted it for our purposes. And you’re the perfect person to test it out.”

Wind finally managed to clamp his jaws down on one of the soldier’s hands, and he yelled, gloves not thick enough to really protect him. The other one snatched at Wind and put a dagger to his throat before he could press his attack, and Wind reluctantly released the hand, getting the message.

“Link’ll never fall for your stupid trap anyway,” Wind said with a glare, and the Yiga both chuckled.

“Oh yes he will. Have fun, kid.”

A door was opened, and Wind was tossed through without any sort of fanfare, stumbling as he landed. He whirled back around to the door, but it was already closed and firmly locked.

Wind scowled at it, then turned to look around his prison, mind already turning towards thoughts of escape. Who did these Yiga guys think they were, kidnapping him off the street? He was the Hero of Winds! How had they even gotten the drop on him?

Wind scowled again and kicked at the floor of the cell. At least he’d been walking around with Four and Wild. Surely one of them would notice he was missing soon. And if not, well, Wind was pretty good at getting out of tight spots if he did say so himself.

No problem.

Wind put his hands on his hips, looking around the dark cell. There was a single tiny torch hung up on the wall, too high for Wind to reach that lit up the skinny space. A stone wall stood at the far end of the cell, but the two sides were open bars, darkness yawning beyond them.

It... kinda made his skin crawl.

Wind crossed his arms, feeling cold all of a sudden, but he shrugged it off with a huff. He needed to figure out how to get out of here, creepy darkness or not. The deep shadows beyond the bars suggested a bigger area, so if he could just find a loose one, he’d be set. Maybe he could even climb up and grab the torch.

Wind walked over to a side, starting at one end and giving each bar a solid shake. They seemed pretty firmly in the ground, but Wind worked his way across anyway, hoping for a loose one. He got all the way through without a single loose bar, and sighed, crossing to the other side to try there instead.

He’d gotten about halfway when he heard something, creaky and quiet.

Wind froze, listening, and the hair on the back of his neck went up as he heard it again. That noise was familiar. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it was familiar.

And that it was bad news.

A low moan came from somewhere in the darkness, and Wind slowly began to back away, nerves all alight. If he could just see he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous. Maybe the darkness was just freaking him out, and he was imagining noises because of that?

A bloodcurdling scream rang out, and Wind’s eyes went huge as a familiar sensation wracked through him, deathly cold and terrifying.

Oh no, he thought in a panic, his feet frozen to the floor, body unable to turn away from the shambling footsteps he could hear. Oh no oh no oh—

A face appeared in the flickering light of the torch, decaying and horrible, eyes glowing. A rotten hand stretched forward and wrapped around the bars, and Wind stared at the Redead, trapped in its unnatural terror.

It didn’t look like his version of them, taller, with a few ragged clothes on its lanky body, but the feeling it left him with was the same, sheer, unnatural terror.

I’ve got to get away, maybe by the door I’ll be far enough it won’t be able to—

A different scream rang out, sending another jolt through Wind’s chest, and he watched in horror as another redead grasped at the bars, reaching out to him, trying to pull him close. Beady eyes stared at him, glowing and malicious with hunger, and Wind might have whimpered if he could move his mouth.

He fought the paralysis as much as he could, but the moment it started to wear off, one of them screamed again, leaving Wind with no escape. More screams joined the first two, and Wind choked on his breath as a whole group of redeads shambled out of the darkness. Screams came near constantly from their lips as they grabbed at the bars and reached through, trying to get at him.

They can’t get through, they can’t get through they can’t hurt you, it’s just to scare you, Wind thought frantically, heart drumming in his chest. They don’t want you to escape that’s why they put them there you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.

The screams just kept coming, endless and piercing and shooting Wind’s heart through with inescapable terror. He couldn’t even move to cover his ears, and he felt a terrified scream build in his own throat.

But it wouldn’t come out. Wind could only keep standing there, immobilized, tears trailing silently down his cheeks.

It felt like his heart was being encased in ice, frost shooting through his veins with every scream and grazing touch. More screams joined the agonizing chorus from behind him, and the terror felt like it would crush him, repeatedly crashing over him like a freezing wave.

Hands grabbed at him, nails grazing his skin. Wind couldn’t move, the torrential screams hammering at him, cracking him, filling him up with so much terror his mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

His world narrowed down to screams and beady eyes, Wind drowning in terror, eyes darting around wildly, mind screaming every time a hand grazed him.

If he could move he’d be curled up on the ground, but all he could do was stand here and sob in his mind as a deathly cold hand finally closed around his wrist.

Then a different noise rang out over the screams.

It was garbled in Wind’s ears, some sort of talking he couldn’t make out over the redeads’ shrieks. But suddenly music poured into the cell, cheery and bright, and the screaming stopped.

All of it.

Wind’s ears still rang with them, and the terror still pressed over him like a wet blanket, but there was finally silence, and the hand trying to drag Wind closer to the bars had stopped in its efforts, the redead’s mouth stuck open with its teeth bared.

Wind would’ve sobbed if he could move, and he heard footsteps and talking, his ears still ringing too much to make out. Strong arms pulled the hand off his wrist and cradled him to a chest, shouted something at the other sets of footsteps. The song trilled again, bright and warm, and though Wind still couldn’t do much as twitch his pinky, some of his panic eased as he felt a steady heartbeat against where his ear rested.

The others were here.

There must have been a trip out, but Wind missed most of it, still trapped in the lingering screams he could hear in his mind. Tears trickled steadily down his cheeks, and past the unnaturally sharp fear was a flicker of annoyance at crying so much.

But the terror mostly blotted it out.

Sunshine finally fell onto his face, warm and soft, and whoever was holding Wind lowered themselves to a knee. A face looked down at him, and Wind saw Twilight, eyes fearful.

“Hey Wind, you alright?” he asked, and Wind could only stare at him, heart pounding, terror still clenching like a talon around him. “Wind?”

“Is he okay?” someone else asked, and Twilight leaned back, Time and Wild’s faces both coming into view next.

“He’s not responding,” Twilight replied, and Time leaned in, studying Wind’s face with a worried look.

“Wind, can you hear me?” Time asked, setting a hand on his chest.

I can hear you fine, I just can’t move! Wind wanted to scream, but his mouth was still frozen shut. The only thing that he was still able to do was cry, apparently.

Time gently wiped his tears away, and if Wind wasn’t still so terrified, he was sure he’d be embarrassed. “Do we know how long he was down there?”

“An hour, hour and a half? No more than two based on when we started looking,” a voice Wind placed as Wild added anxiously. Oh good, he avoided the trap. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a long time to be around an attacking redead, no less dozens of them like he was,” Time replied, gently tilting Wind’s head around as he looked at it. “Usually the song fixes things, I have no idea why he’s still frozen like this.”

“Prolonged exposure I’d guess,” Four’s voice added, and Twilight’s hand combed gently through his hair. “It might just take him longer to break out of it. He’s so cold...”

“I still can’t believe we lost sight of him like that,” Wild said quietly, and a different hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wind.”

Oh Wild, it’s not your fault, Wind thought, trying to look the champion in the eye and convey the sentiment. I’d tell you so if I could.

Some more footsteps pounded against the grass suddenly, and the amount of voices around Wind doubled, more faces leaning over to look at him, worried questions floating over his head. The other Links had obviously joined the group, and Wind struggled even harder against the paralysis making him nothing but deadweight. But he remained as frozen as ever, a scream still stuck in his throat, ice around his heart.

“Give him space, I’m pretty sure he’s aware of what’s going on and you all are crowding him,” Warriors’ voice chided, and the majority of heads pulled back from his view. The captain’s face appeared in his line of sight, full of worry. “Wind? Can you move anything? Even just something small?”

Wind started at his feet and worked his way upward this time, trying to move anything he could. Fear still thrummed through him, his body on high alert, tears tracking down his cheeks, but he finally managed to twitch his eyelids a little.

“Hey, there we go,” Warriors said with relief in his eyes. “Can you do it again?”

Wind focused, managing another twitch, and almost did a full blink when he tried again. Warriors’ face was still worried, but he looked encouraged by even the tiny movement.

“Here, let me see if this helps some more,” Time said then, and Twilight shifted Wind around in his arms so his head was a little more upright.

Time pulled out his ocarina, purplish blue in the sunshine, and he played the trilling song again, the one Wind finally recognized as the song of passing. Time played it through a couple times, magic falling over Wind like a beam of sunlight. He was surprised the time of day itself didn’t change, but maybe Time was stopping it from doing that somehow.

Suddenly the magic loosened something inside him, the icy terror cracking, thawing a little. Some feeling swept back into his body, and the scream that had been stuck in Wind’s throat this whole time suddenly burst out, loud and terrified.

Time immediately stopped playing, and Wind began to tremble as feeling slowly spread to the rest of him, his scream ending in a hiccup. It felt amazing to finally give voice to the horrible coldness in him, and Wind barely noticed when a thumb brushed along his cheek.

“Wind?” Time asked quietly, and Wind breathed in a shaking breath, firmly blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Th-thank, tha-ank y-you,” he managed get out in a miserable-sounding whimper.

Sighs of relief went up around him, and Time gave Wind a smile, even with the way Wind was shaking and still unable to stop the tears from escaping his eyes.

“You’re welcome Sailor,” Time replied, and brushed a few more of his tears away.

Wind managed a shaky smile back, then relaxed into Twilight’s arms, more and more of the ice in his chest melting away into bright sunshine.

[plussizefantasia]

Revenge

Flufftober Day 18: Teacher AU

literature teacher!Loki Laufeyson x math teacher!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

AN: I actually love this one so much. I also just realized that we are over halfway done with Flufftober which is kind of sad. Anyway, we've got 13 more days left and I'm looking forward to the plans I have for each one. If you liked this story please reblog and I'll see y'all tomorrow.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

You are going to kill him. You are going to murder that man. You stayed after your last class yesterday so that you would be able to draw out the problems that your students would have to solve for class today. Now, written right on top of your trigonometry diagrams were the words:

“Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying is true. -Bertrand Russell”

Written in the ever so familiar scrawl of the Literature Teacher, Mr. Laufeyson. Loki was a nice guy, a great teacher, and at times, a giant pain in your ass. You have no idea how this little feud of yours got started but you are certain that it has escalated beyond what it once was.

At the start, it was just funny little jokes between the two of you. He had once stolen all of the red pens that you used to grade your student’s quizzes and when you went to go look for them, they had all been taped together in one big ball and were sitting in your “Math is Fun” mug that you kept in the teacher's lounge. That was annoying and you also had no real way of knowing who had done it. Until he had brought it up the next day and asked how grading had gone.

You had retaliated by going in early the next morning and moving all of the furniture in his classroom an inch to the left. It had thrown him off just enough that he had tripped on his rug during a lecture and faceplanted. All of your students were talking about it two periods later when they arrived in your class and you were all smiles for the rest of the day.

So far, there has not been any lasting damage, and all of your coworkers find it more amusing than annoying which is a good thing because neither of you wanted to get the administration involved. 

You were not amused by the board graffiti you had found when you came in your class this morning, and while you were re-drawing the problems he had ruined you were thinking of how you could get back to him later that day.

Your plans for revenge had to be put on the back burner as students started filing into your classroom. Half of them looked so tired that you genuinely thought they might fall asleep at their desks and the others looked entirely too frazzled for 7:30 in the morning.

It wasn’t until after you had had your lunch break that an idea had come to you about a way to get back at Loki. You grabbed the pile of graded quizzes from your desk, ones that you were able to grade in red pen thank you very much, and started making your way upstairs to where Mr. Laufeyson’s class was located.

You knew that he was teaching his British Literature elective right now, as it was fifth period. You also knew that most of the kids in that class were also in your Calculus class at the end of the day.

You didn’t wait for very long before pulling open the door to his classroom and waltzing right in with a smirk across your face.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Laufeysoon, pardon the interruption but I have some quizzes I need to give back to some students ASAP.” Without waiting for a response you began walking up and down the rows of desks in his class passing out the graded quizzes to your very amused students. You noticed that he had stopped talking when you had walked into the room and hadn’t started up again. “Go ahead,” you had told him, “don’t want to waste valuable teaching time.” You continued to pass out the papers, all while trying to not burst out laughing at the look on his face.

“Um, yes right. Well as I was saying. Shakespeare was a minor god of his time. His ability to-”

“Hey Derek, I wanted to talk to you about this question that you got wrong, would you be able to stay a little bit after our class to talk about it.” You sent a small wink to Derek and put a finger to your mouth to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything. “I just don’t want to waste any class time going over it today, we have a lot to cover.” Derek just nodded and you could see his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

“Are you done?” Loki asked, slanting his hips to one side and placing the hand not holding his open book on them. “Because I have a class to be teaching right now.” He lifted his eyebrows and you acquiesced. You wanted to mess with him, not ruin his whole class plan for that day.

“Yes, I’m done. Thank you for letting me hand those out.” You smiled sweetly at him and began walking back out of his room. Just barely hearing his mutter of “I didn’t let you do anything.” As you passed by him.

Mission accomplished you headed back down to your classroom and started gathering up the things you would need to teach the next period. You didn’t expect that he would have the time to be able to get you back today. But you were for sure expecting some kind of retaliation the next day.

It wasn’t until your last period that you were proven wrong. Everything seemed normal, your students filled in slightly ansty as it was the last period and everyone was ready to go home. They all pulled out their work and started on the problems you had written on the board. 

It wasn’t until you started calling on them that you realized what you had opened yourself up to.

You called on Derek first, he was one of the more academically inclined students you had but he was shy about answering in front of the class. You knew he had gotten the answer right, you had looked at his work before you called them all back to focus. But what you weren't expecting was for him to give you his answer in eh most god-awful British accent you had ever heard.

“I doth believeth that the answer to this problemeth is 42.3”. You were baffled. You had no idea what was going on and the fact that Derek had said all this with such a straight face made you think you were having some kind of hallucination episode in the middle of class. But instead of mentioning it you just decided to move on.

“Oh-kay. Um… Samantha what did you get for number 2.”

Again you were met with an awful accent and weird olde- english phrasing.

“Yes, Madame, the answereth I haveth arrived at was X equaleth 110”.

Now that you knew you weren’t just having a breakdown and something was actually happening you didn’t hold yourself back.

“What is happening right now? I don’t- why are you guys being so weird.”

You were met with utter silence, which was rare in your classroom of 23 teenagers. But you didn’t move on. You stared each of them down, focusing a little harder on trying to get the weak ones to crack. Finally, it was Abigail who let the cat out of the bag. She was sweet, but notoriously bad at keeping secrets.

“Mr. Laufeyson said he would give five bonus points to anyone who used a bad accent in your class today.” She let out in all one breath, “More points if you spoke like someone out of Shakespeare.”

You ran your tongue across the front of your teeth. “Did he?” You let out a sort of incredulous laugh and shook your head a little. “Well then, bonus points on the next quiz to whoever can steal the marble apple off his desk and bring it to me tomorrow.” Your students all began to laugh a little bit and some had a look of extreme determination across their faces at your words.

Your class continued sans silly accents and you sent your students home for the day without any homework. As you started cleaning up your desk, putting your laptop in your bag, and grabbing your sweater off the back of your chair you were interrupted by the voice of your arch-nemesis.

“You are positively wicked.” Loki was leaning up against the frame of the door to your classroom, his jacket also on his arm and his messenger bag slung across his shoulders.

“You started it with the Russell quote on my board. You knew how much time I put into drawing those problems.”

“Admit it, it made you smile when you saw it.” He began to cross across the room towards your desk,

“Maybe, but what really almost made me lose it laughing was Samantha’s horrible British accent.” You looked up at him and let out a small laugh at the memory. “So maybe, Mr. Laufeyson, you are the wicked one.”

“I might be, Mrs. Laufeyson but you were the one who married me.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” You chuckled once again and leaned up to place a kiss upon your husband’s lips.

“May I ask what plans you have concocted to get back at me tomorrow Darling?” He asked.

“You’ll just have to wait and see for yourself tomorrow, Love.”

[sea-owl]

I'm having Portia Addams au thoughts.

Here's the link to the orginal: link

For those who are unaware at one point, my gothic featheringtons and isekai Portia aus kinda mixed into this idea that Portia, an Addams family daughter, moved back to Spain with her young kids after the death of Lord Featherington. Over the years Portia and the Addams manage to surprise adopt the other spouses and some of the spouses siblings. Portia also manages to "corrupt" Mary into being her best friend after a trip to India. This au also had a dash of Edmund x Violet x Portia to my surprise that people requested it besides my crazy self.

ANYWAY I just had an idea set in this universe that in the 1814 season during the country house party that did welcome families to the day activites, to Aubrey Hall Violet sent an invitation to Featherington House with an unlimited number that she could bring (Violet never knew if Portia's family grew bigger and she knows Portia might just come back with an extended member or two) just in case, as she has always done. Violet knew realistically Portia was not leaving Spain, despite wishing she would.

Well surprise surprise Portia had actually come back from Spain with her family and best friend in tow to receive the invitation the day after the Bridgertons left to get Aubrey Hall ready. The servants who were to collect the response from the Featheringtons and record the numbers for how many were arriving were rather new and didn't know that history between the two families. It never directly reached the ears of those who did know.

"We'll probably have to sleep multiple to a room when we get there," Portia said as she looked around at the children. Four she birthed, four her wards, three who might as well be her wards since they never leave, her two nieces, and her best friend. She remembers Aubrey Hall having a lot of space but she wouldn't want her family to take up more room than needed. Perhaps if they can get four in a room, two to a bed, the children have slept in more cramped areas like the Addams family crypt. She knows there are rooms with two beds in them, then they would need four rooms? One of the rooms can have a single bed in it too if it makes things easier, her and Mary have no trouble sharing a bed.

"It can't be worse than our recent travels, and most of our bags are packed so it shouldn't take long for us to head off tomorrow," Mary said.

"It's just a shame we can't enjoy the nice dusting this house has gotten," Portia sighed. The Featherington London House looked like a right proper Addams home now. Just needs a few more touches.

"Well think of this," Mary said as she looped her arm through Portia's. "There will be more when we get back and all the curtians will be set up as well to darken the rooms."

Portia laughed, "Oh mi amiga the way you think is brilliant!"

The next day someone familiar caught the family's eye.

Gareth happened to be looking over his shoulder as they were loading up the carriages. "Grandmother!"

This gained the rest of family's attention as well.

"Well, well it as if the dead has risen again," Lady Danbury said as she walked over to the group. "I send my grandson off with Simon over here and now they both return with two old friends who were lost to time."

Portia laughed. "If only we were dead to rise again, it would be such fun would it not?"

"If only to give others a good scare," Mary agreed.

"Lady Featherington and Lady Sharma, it has been too long since I've seen you both," Lady Danbury greeted. Her eyes look over all of them dressed in black and jewel tones. "Still in all black I see."

Portia smiled. "It's just such a happy color, unlike yellow that is a true mourning color."

The three matriarchs continued their conversation when Lady Danbury's eye wandered to the brood of 13 behind sititng in the carriages. She couldn't help raise an eyebrow, how did these two women managed to collect all of them? Her own godson and grandson being among them as well.

Mary seemed to notice first. "Oh let us introduce you to the children."

"Mis hijos!" Portia called.

One by one the children lined up. Lady Danbury recognized last names of some and those she didn't recognize she did see their resemblance to their gentry family members. Did they kidnap these children? Well some she wouldn't blame if they were happier being kidnapped. She's heard rumors about some of these families.

When Lady Danbury found out they were also heading to Aubrey Hall she offered to have Mary and Portia ride with her. Then she swatted them on the bottom with her cane when they tried to suggest something else. They only raised an eyebrow unimpressed with the light swat but agreed to ride along.

The children climbed into their own carriages with Simon, Gareth, Michael and Phillip climbing into one. Kate, Prudence, Lucy, and Felicity into another. The last carriage had Philippa, Sophie, Penelope, Edwina, and Posy climbing in.

"Well the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton finally have someone who can compete with their large brood," Lady Danbury joked. "The children will take Aubrey Hall by storm."

"I was actually surprised to receive the invitation," Portia confessed. "We didn't tell anyone in England we were coming, our leaving Spain was last minute."

Lady Danbury sat up straighter. "Truly?"

Both Portia and Mary nodded.

"We thought it best for the children's future prospects to take at least a season here. Spain is still recovering after the war."

Portia then muttered something in spanish that had Mary gasping.

"Like you're one to talk!" Mary exclaimed, lightly pushing Portia.

The two women continued to playfight while Lady Danbury smiled. A thought just hit her. She knows the looks viscount and viscountess used to send Portia when they thought no one was looking. And now they have no idea she's coming to their country house party. Oh Lady Danbury is about to have some fun.

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 🖋️

Tagged by @daffi-990 💗

Here’s more healing fic.. I’m not that happy about this snippet honestly there’s a lot of this fic that idk it doesn’t feel right but ah it is what it is. I do really like the last sentence of this though. Anyway, I’m gonna write more tomorrow I might go through the fic and just make it better tho idk we will see.

Buck returns to work the next day, promising himself that he won’t let anyone down.

He’s being naïve — in hindsight he’s not sure how he ever thought things would just get better because he said so.

He’s so fucking naïve.

He goes back to work and pretends he’s happy. He’s happy. He bounces up the stairs to the loft, in his long-sleeved uniform telling himself that he’s excited, that he’s not feeling like the world is crushing him. He is excited to see everyone. To be home.

He sees Hen first, she smiles at him and wraps him up in a big hug. “Buck!” she exclaims.

“H–Hi Hen.”

“It’s not the same here without you, I’ve had nobody to make fun of, Chimney would be disappointed.”

“Hey!” Buck turns towards Eddie, as if to say ‘look at this slander’. Except Eddie isn’t there. Because Eddie doesn’t work there anymore. Because Eddie left the 118.

Because Eddie left him.

It’s not that he forgot. He couldn’t forget if he tried. It’s just, he just wanted to be home so much that he forgot that his home was falling apart.

The light dims from his eyes, and he tries to keep a smile on his face but he knows the moment when Hen realises he’s not okay.

“Buck?”

“Yeah, I— I’m fine, I’m good.” He lies, plastering a bigger smile on is face. He hopes it’s enough.

“I know it’s not the same without them here,” Hen continues. “But, we’ve got each other, and I mean you’re not so good at Mario Kart but—”

“Hey! I could beat you any day.” He laughs at the tease though his mind just gives him images of nights spent at the Diaz house, Christopher between him and Eddie, laughing, crying, playing video games and feeling like a real family. He hasn’t seen Christopher in a month.

He laughs at himself. He’s not their family.

He’s a liar, and a home wrecker. A broken man who doesn’t deserve them. Doesn’t deserve him.

Maybe he shouldn’t be here at all.

It’s not a surprise when it happens. When the remnants of his façade cracks and then shatters all at once. He is grateful though, when he finds he is not alone in picking up the pieces.

Tagging: @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @malewifediaz @evanbegins @jamespearce9-1-1 @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @puppyboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 🫶🏽🫶🏽 (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

[goodluckclove]

How Clove Gardener Writes (an Overview)

I definitely told myself when I started this blog a billion years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, that I wouldn't make any attempt to tell you how to write. You know - other than saying just do it do the thing write it close the blog open the document type type three sentences bam look you did it good job i love you now go get yourself a treat.

But I've spoken to a few writers who seem to benefit from the insight of me just explaining how I write. So I thought I'd give a little peek into my own mindset. I cannot stress enough that this is what works for me. It's a methodology that I've built up over the course of like fifteen years of trying different things, keeping what works, and throwing the rest right out the goddamned window.

If any of this seems new and appealing give it a try. If it doesn't help I'm wrong and bad as a person (no I'm kidding but seriously if it doesn't work that's fine and we're both fine). If it helps you owe me a picture of a frog drawn from memory.

Let's see how long I ramble. Follow me under the read more!

Okay, so let's get this out of the way. I've never taken a writing class. No, that's not true. I took one when I was thirteen and another one in high school and I don't remember anything either of them taught me. Oh and I took an online creative writing class in college, but I also didn't retain anything and the next year I dropped out of college. So I also don't have a degree in jack shit.

What else? I don't outline. I've written upwards of 15 novels (13-15, I honestly can't remember) and I did not outline any of them. This includes character sheets and worldbuilding lore. My first published novel Blind Trust was born from the concept of the Lover's Knot, which is just like some witchy magic lore. I thought it would be cool so I was like "who could maybe be some guys" and then I introduced some guys and then bam 180k later it was Scott and Edgar.

I do virtually no preparation to write a novel other than the vaguest premise and maybe like one cool scene. I did not have a cool scene for Blind Trust, but I do have one for Migration Patterns. What I don't have is an ending. I don't think I've ever written a novel knowing how it ends.

Literally here's what I do. This is all I do. I sit down and I write until I don't know what's going to happen next, at which point I step away and I listen to some music or I go to the museum or I take a nap until I decide how to continue. That's it.

For me it's going to the zoo every day and seeing the monkeys. And every day they're doing something different. Sometimes they're sleeping, or they're pawing at each other, or they're gathering sticks. I can call out to them and offer to show them a card trick or share my Bugles with them, and they might come up to the wall of the enclosure to see what I'm doing. Or they might not. I do not really have control of the situation, but it doesn't matter because they aren't fully aware of me.

At some point either I have to leave the zoo for some reason. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe the monkeys have been pulled in to be fed their lunch (it's bananas and peanuts). Either way I add that day's behavior to the pile and then come back tomorrow.

Once I find an ending I go back and I read through the book again and trim any fat that's in the wrong places while adding flesh to some naked bones. Then I wait a week or more (usually I can only wait a week) and go back and do it again. By that point it's ready to hopefully have someone read it, after which I make small edits and tweaks.

That's how I do it. Or at least, that's how I do it for longform prose projects that I plan to publish. I've written plenty of novels that just stayed first drafts because I didn't feel like revising them and then I moved on to the next one. I don't regret that. I don't consider it a waste of time.

I would never consider a trip to the zoo a waste of time.

Anyways, that's what works for me. I don't know if all of this will apply to other brains. I don't know if any of it will. I figure it might just be useful to get an in-depth look at what I personally vibe with.

I'm so down to talk writing at any time, by the way. I love to do it. Tell me why you aren't writing and I would be happy to listen and try to help. Or just brainstorm. Seriously, my DMs and inbox are perpetually open. Talking about writing is one of my favorite things to do.

Let's go look at some monkeys together.

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 13: He Looks Up Grinning Like A Devil

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After your date, you and Michael indulge in the need you feel for each other.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, masturbation, stripping (?), oral m and f receiving, choking, multiple orgasms, cock worship (?), slight Dom!Michael, thigh riding, mention of a safeword, face sitting, praise kink, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), slight cockwarming, PWP, fluff

Word Count: ~4.9k

A/n: Just a friendly reminder that, if you want to be tagged for this series, just let me know :) Also, this is pure smut (and a little fluff at the end), but mostly porn. But they're in love so it's fluffy porn with some dominant Michael elements... But anyway, the next chapter is angst lol

The keys land in the bowl next to the door with a loud thud, and the door falls shut equally as loud. That probably already woke half of your neighbors, but right now, you don’t care.

Michael pushes you into your apartment, gentle yet demanding, and his lips are on yours as soon as you’re out of the public eye and in the comfort of your home. 

His arms wrap around your waist. The path to the bedroom blurs, you can only feel his hands on your body. They trail down your back and toward your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. His lips slip lower until they reach your neck, and he greedily licks over the hickey he left a couple of days before. As if it doesn’t satisfy him already, he moves to the other side and suctions his lips over your pulse point. 

Your lips part in a needy moan, tangling your fingers in his brown locks. “I’m gonna make love to ya tonight,” he whispers into your ear. 

You exhale. “Please,” it sounds almost like a plea.

His lips are back on yours. He’s holding you up with his arms, your feet dangling almost entirely off the floor as you cling to him, not wanting the feeling of being so close to him stop.

He breathes heavily into your mouth, sliding his tongue between your lips. There is not a part of you he leaves untouched. Your tongues battle for dominance, and you whimper when he squeezes your ass again, forcing you back into submission. This kiss is his as much as you are. He’s in full control over you, and it turns you on so much, the air starts getting thinner.

Michael breaks the kiss to allow you both a second to breathe, diving his head back into your neck. He sucks and licks to the point you’re sure you will be purple and bruises tomorrow.

“I have a surprise for you,” you choke out. 

“A surprise?” He leans back enough to look at you. His lips are swollen from the attack on yours, and he smirks. “What kind o’ surprise?”

You have piqued his interest and you’ve got him right where you want him. Or so you think. Deep down you know that the control will never be fully yours. Not with him, anyway.

Taking his hand, you drag him with you to the bedroom. No words are needed when you push him down on the bed. He huffs, his arms flailing at his sides, deciding whether or not to pull you into him to resume what he was doing before. He needs to feel your lips and body all over him or he is sure he will pass away. Your touch sustains him.

Instead though, he places his hands on your hips and waits. You’re not sure if your face looks demanding enough for him to get the message, but he doesn’t move. Maybe he’s doing it because he’s curious about what you might have up your sleeve. With flushed cheeks, he looks up at you, his pupils taking up most of his eyes now. 

You gently push his hands away, taking a step back. Michael frowns. He reaches out again, which earns him a glare.

“Feisty,” he murmurs.

You smirk, continuing to pull your shirt over your head fully. He watches as the piece of fabric slips from your torso and onto the floor. 

The green lace hugs your breasts just right. It has a small bow in the middle, the cups sheer enough to almost seem see-through, and the part that runs underneath your breasts has an added corsage element. He licks his lips. Your nipples are incredibly stiff through the fabric; your skin is heated, so you’re definitely not cold, which means they are stiff from arousal alone – and it is all thanks to him.

Michael looks like he either wants to tear your clothes off with his bare hands like he did the other night, or he wants to lean back and watch as you strip for him. You give him a gentle push, and he decides on the latter. Sliding back, he leans against the headboard and crosses his hands behind his head. 

“I like this,” he says. 

You’re not in control, he still is.

With any other man, you would never have considered putting on a show with the simple act of undressing, but he is not any other man. He is the one you love, and you feel confident in your own body around him. You know he would never judge you or make you feel bad. He has seen every last crevice, he knows your body inside and out, and he never wastes time to worship you or the ground you walk on. You can be yourself around him, and that is as scary as it is a huge relief. Especially when it comes to something as intimate as your bare skin and every last body part you usually keep hidden from prying eyes.

Your body is a temple to him, and he becomes religious in your arms as he prays to you over and over again. 

Your jeans join your shirt on the floor. The panties you’re wearing match the bra; they’re slightly high-waisted and end high on your perfect hips, the ones that seem to have been made for his hands to grab onto. They’re just as sheer as the rest of your underwear, and he can see the outline of where he wants to be right now clearly. 

Michael’s eyes travel. He roams over your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, and your crotch. His cock swells in his pants and it starts to get uncomfortable just how hard he is. Still, he continues to sit there, watching you intently. 

You stare back at him, waiting for him to make a move, or maybe you’re waiting for yourself to grow confident enough to take the first step. You did it the first time you slept together, but somehow it feels even more intense now. 

You’re not dominant. You can be, but right now, you’re not. You can’t be. Not when he looks at you like that.

He said he would make love to you tonight. You want nothing more than that. Seeing him like that, enjoying the view of you half-naked from his spot on the bed, his cock hard in his pants, makes your pussy grow wetter with each passing second, and you cross your legs. Your core throbs when you think about his cock, his perfectly veins hands that are still crossed behind his hand, perhaps even his perfectly plush lips between your aching thighs as he eats you out like you’re his last meal…

“Are ya just gonna stand there all night?” he asks. 

You shrug. “What if I am?” 

“Huh.” He undoes his belt. Your eyes widen. “How about ya stay there then?”

“What?” you retort. 

“Ya heard me.”

You watch in shock as Michael slips the belt out of the hoops, removing it and tossing it aside. He opens the button and zipper of his jeans next, and he frees his cock from its confines. Your jaw drops. Drool starts building in your mouth almost instantly at the sight of his weeping tip, and when his hand wraps around his shaft, your knees buckle. 

You’re dragged toward him like a moth to a flame. His eyes remain on you, but his cheeks flush along with what you can see of his chest as he starts stroking his cock slowly. He spits into his hand to add more lube and a whimper forms in the back of your throat. 

You need him. His cock is thick; you love the way the veins look that drag along his shaft, and the tip that is uncut, pink, and dripping with pre-cum, and all of that just from the sight of you. His spit makes his movements flow effortlessly, and he soon starts grunting.

You reach the foot of the bed, ready to climb on it and take his cock into your mouth, but he stops you. “Don’t move,” he says. His tone is demanding. You find yourself following his command, stopping dead in your tracks. “Good girl.”

“Michael,” you whisper. 

He continues stroking his cock agonizingly slowly, and the pleasure you get just from watching his face contort and his lips part in a soft moan gets you high enough. 

“D’ya like that?” His fist starts pumping faster now. “Watchin’ me jerk off to the sight of ya?”

You feel lightheaded with nothing to hold onto, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his cock. 

“Answer me,” Michael growls. 

Your eyes snap to his face and you blush. “Y-yes,” you stammer. 

“Naughty girl.”

“Please…” You just want to touch him. 

“What d’ya want, pet? Tell me.”

“I… I want to…” You whimper when he strokes himself faster, his thumb running over his slit, and he shudders. “Oh, God–” Your nails dig into your thigh. “Can I– I wanna make you come,” you say, and you’re begging now, too. “Please?”

“Ya want my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Kneel.”

You sink to your knees in front of the bed. It’s almost humiliating. The mattress creaks when he gets up, walking around the bed toward you. His cock is still hard and standing at full attention. Your eyes widen when he stops right in front of you. He is so close yet so far away. If you only open your mouth and hollow your cheeks…

He brushes a strand of hair out of your face before moving away. He saw what you were trying to do, and now he is punishing you. You’re sure that’s what it is. As you stare at him from a distance, Michael only smirks at you and starts taking his clothes off in your line of sight. Okay, maybe it’s not punishment, but he is teasing you nonetheless, and with how wet you are, it’s cruel.

You clench your thighs for some kind of relief. His body looks divine. There is barely any light in the room, so the moon falls perfectly on him and makes his skin look like an oasis. You get stuck on his perfectly muscular thighs, his cock, his abs and his biceps that tense with every flex. You’re drooling again, but you don’t wipe it away.

Now naked, Michael sits on the foot of the bed right in front of you. He looks down at you. It’s a sight he wish he could take a picture of, and one day he might ask you. It’s a sight that keeps him awake at night, makes his cock hard and wakes him up with cum all over him whenever he ends up dreaming about you in this position. You have no idea how alluring you are, but he intends on making sure you get what you both so desperately need because you deserve it.

He tilts your chin up with his index finger, smiling down at you. Gone is his cheekiness, what remains is pure love and adoration in his eyes, and he thanks you. You’re not sure for what; your brain is hazy and you are too focused on the throbbing between your thighs and the hunger for his cock that you find yourself nodding along to something you didn’t even hear. 

“Hey,” – this, you hear – “Look at me,” he says. 

You blink and meet his eyes. 

“You alright?”

You nod again. 

“If at any point somethin’ doesn’t feel right, ya tell me and I’ll stop. D’ya hear me? Ya tell me red or tap my wrist twice, and I’ll stop.” Michael's grip on your chin tightens. “No exceptions. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You know he would never do that. “Got it,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He smiles, relief etched across his face, and then he finally guides your head toward his cock. 

“Go ahead,” he tells you, “take what ya want, pet. It’s yours.”

Fuck. This shouldn’t be as hot as it sounds, but it is, and you take his cock into your mouth like the eager little thing you are. 

You lick along the underside of his shaft, twirling your tongue over the head before taking him all the way in. He moans, tangling his hand in your hair. 

“Can–” he can barely talk. 

You nod, understanding what he wants. With a sigh of relief, he guides your head along his length, not fucking your mouth but also not leaving all the control up to you. You bop your head up and down enthusiastically, enjoying the way he’s manhandling you, and his cock hits the back of your throat.

“Sorry,” he hisses when you gag, but you shake your head as much as you can to tell him that it’s okay.

He’s a lot to get used to. You can taste the salty essence of his pre-cum on your tongue, and it spurs you on. It’s messy and probably not perfect at all, but he’s already a mess, and that tells you that you must be doing something right.

He throbs on your tongue. You start sucking a little harder. That’s exactly what he needs.

“Fuck!” Michael throws his head back. Your hand rests on his abdomen, your nails raking over his skin. It’s too much, especially when you push down on his lower stomach and dig your fingers into his thick thighs. “I’m close,” he warns you. 

You hum, letting him force you down a little further. Your throat is so tight, he can’t hold it back anymore. With a shout of your name, he comes, and after the initial surprise at the intensity of his orgasm subsided, you eagerly swallow every last drop he gives you to taste. 

Working him through it, you use your hand as you catch your breath. His hand is still tangled in your hair, but he is no longer sitting. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, his back resting flat against the mattress now.

You lay your head on his thigh. “Did I do good?” you ask. 

Michael answers with a soft chuckle. “Ya deserve a fuckin’ gold star,” he says. 

Your eyes roll back when he starts massaging your scalp, and you sigh contently. For a moment, you both allow your breaths to calm down, being close to each other in silence. 

He is the first to break, but the words he says strike you to your core. “I want ya to sit on my face.”

You lift your head from his thigh. The blood rushes to your head. “What?” you want to clarify. 

“You,” he says, “on my face. So I can eat ya out.”

He says it so nonchalantly, you’re not sure if this is real or an absurd daydream.

He wants you to sit on his face, you didn’t hear that one wrong. The thought alone both excites and scares you, and you suddenly grow insecure. He’s been between your legs before, and he seems to enjoy himself every single time, but sitting on his face is a lot more intimate. It’s different. You would rest your entire weight on him, your cunt directly pressed against his mouth; it freaks you out a little. 

Your heart pounds rapidly against your ribcage. 

He is attuned to your every reaction, and his hand comes to rest on your cheek. “Get up,” he tells you. 

You do as you’re told, sitting down next to him on the bed. Michael pulls you into his lap without a word, and he connects your lips in a heated kiss.

Even through all the intensity, he still cradles your head almost delicately as his other hand comes to splay across your lower back. He’s getting hard again, you can feel him pressing into your thigh, but your cheeks are still burning from his previous request. 

You hope he changed his mind or forgot in the few seconds that passed, but then he starts running his fingers along your spine, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin, and you know he’s trying to get you comfortable and even wetter than you already are. It doesn’t take much. 

Your hips start moving against where you’re resting on his thigh, and the friction of his bare skin and your panties against your clit drive you wild. You speed up a little, your lips still attached to his. He guides your movements ever so slightly. You moan. 

You were shy about sitting on his face, but now you’re riding his thigh. Something doesn’t seem to add up. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, “I know ya want to.”

Your forehead drops to his shoulder. A whimper slips past your lips. The pressure against your slick cunt is bittersweet, you can’t get enough. 

Michael pushes your panties aside to get better access, and he slides a finger through your folds. Your body jolts. He circles your clit, chuckling to himself. “So fuckin’ wet,” he says. 

“Michael,” you beg. 

“I’m gonna make ya feel so good. Just trust me.”

“I’m– I’m too heavy.”

Your cheeks burn, and when he forces your head back to look into your eyes, he seems almost… angry?

“Yer not too heavy, pet. Why the fuck would you think tha’?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “just don’t want to smother you or anything.”

He cracks up. “Death by pussy sounds like somethin’ I’d love ta have on my gravestone,” he says. “Especially yours. That’d be my biggest achievement and a heavenly way to go to hell.”

You want to punch him, but at the same time, it’s rather endearing. He would die between your thighs, and he makes no secret about it. Maybe he suffocates, but at least your pussy will be the last meal he’s had. It doesn’t sound so bad to him. 

“I’ve never done it before,” you admit then. 

“That’s okay. You just have to sit and I’ll… I’ll do my job.”

“Your job?”

“Makin’ ya come.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks flush an even brighter red. 

He gently slaps your ass before laying back down. “Now c’mere,” he says. 

You crawl over him. With a sigh, he pulls you further up until your clothed core hovers above his face. He pulls your underwear aside again, not wanting your weight to disappear. 

“Sit.”

“I–”

“Love, when I told ya to sit on my face, I meant sittin’, not fuckin’ hovering.”

“I am sitting,” you insist. You’re not. You really are hovering above him, and it would be a stretch for him to even reach your core.

He sighs, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. The way he’s staring at it makes you squeeze your eyes shut.

“If I even have to lift my head to reach your cunt,” he says, “that’s not called sittin’ on my face.”

The red in your cheeks grows brighter. “But–“

“For fuck’s sake!” Michael promptly pulls you down and dives into your cunt. The moan you let out is as lewd as it is guttural, and you throw your head back. 

He doesn’t waste time. He parts your folds and circles your clit, teasing you at first, but then he starts sucking on it the way you like it, his fingers leaving marks on your skin as they dig in, and he fucks you with his tongue. 

Over and over again, he thrusts into your velvety walls, his nose bumping against your clit. But it isn’t enough. You tangle your hand in his hair. Subconsciously, you search for more, and your hips get a mind of their own. Soon enough, you’re grinding against his mouth as he continues to lick and fill you up with his tongue. 

It feels good, almost too good. He knows just what buttons to push. His hands tear your bra off and find your nipples to play with them. With every grind, his nose continues to bump against your clit. You are so wet, you can hear him suck on your pussy lips, filling the room with an obscene squelching sound. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable though; you grow more confident. 

“Fuck, Michael,” you moan, and he returns the favor, sending vibrations hurdling across your cunt and straight to the orgasm that is building up a wave in your lower abdomen. 

When your legs grow tired, he encourages your movements with his hands, guiding you along his face at the same pace you just kept, and it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow more rapidly, louder and higher. 

He drives you closer and closer and closer to the edge, and he licks harder and harder and harder and–

His name is a silent scream on your lips as your thighs lock around his head and you come hard, your entire body quivering. Your clit pulsates. The wetness trickles down his chin, but he still dives in deeper to drink up your juices as if it’s water that sustains him. 

The orgasm knocks you off balance. He is the only thing keeping you upright now, but even as the wave crashes in and you slowly start to calm down, there is another wave coming on. Michael is the storm between your legs, and he coaxes you right back to the edge. 

You’re twitching at this point, the overstimulation setting your nerves and your world on fire. He sucks even harder, licks even faster, and you feel yourself wanting to pull away yet grinding even harder at the same time. It’s like your mind and body have separated. 

Tears spring to your eyes. “Michael, I can’t–” you break off with a sob, which quickly turns into a moan. It’s pain and it is pleasure, and you never thought that mixture could feel so good. 

He is compelling you to jump again, the precipice so close, and he is directly behind you with his hands, ready to push you off even if you don’t want to.

You now realize why he put the safeword in place. He doesn’t intend on stopping until you have given all you can and he has drowned in your sweet cunt. 

His hands continue touching you sensually while his mouth is cruel. You love him, but you also hate him. He is so good at what he does, you fear you might black out from the tornado he steers up inside you. 

“Oh, God!” you cry out when he blows cold air on your clit, smacking your ass in the process, and after a deep breath that undoubtedly gives him a good whiff, he dives back in eagerly. Eager to make you come, eager to please, eager to be in charge, and at the same time used as a fucktoy. 

Your head falls back, your eyes doing the same. You hold onto his head and the headboard, but it’s not enough. His hand comes to rest around your throat, keeping you there, and as soon as he squeezes just the slightest bit, lighting strikes your body and you are on fire.

With every thrust of his tongue, he adds more fuel. His fingers squeeze tighter, and your walls get tighter, and then you’re coming again, without warning this time, all over his already wettened face. 

He groans happily. He soaks up every last sound, quiver, and hitch of our breath. Your pulse jumps under his fingers, your heart pounding, and your muscles contract.

Michael did that. He turned you into a mess, unable to think, breathe or speak. All you can do is chant his name like a prayer when you come undone, and he soaks it all up like your cum. 

This time, he stops when you push his head away. His eyelids flutter and he looks up at you, and he reminds you of a seductive devil just then. You could come again just from the blissed-out sight of him. 

You’re too weak to utter your emotions, so you simply climb off and drop onto the mattress. He rolls over. “How’re ya feelin’?” he asks softly. 

He climbs between your thighs – the ones that are now covered in red between them from where his beard scratched your skin. His cock is painfully hard, but your well-being remains his priority.

He strokes through your sweaty hair and over your sweaty forehead. You lean into his touch, your head void of any thoughts other than the swirling butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Your thighs burn, but you love that it’s him that put the pain there. You don’t mind his beard, even if it scratches at your skin wherever he kisses you.

He traces every contour of your face and collarbone until you have returned to your body. Only then does he lean down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue, and his cum mingles with yours as your lips meet. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

You are, it isn’t a lie, you are just overwhelmed by what he made you feel. You still haven’t fully realized or processed it. 

He nods, clearly satisfied, and continues kissing you. You stay like that for an even longer while, your lips brushing and mingling, and your heartbeats become one. Your bodies become one. 

You’re not sure when he slips inside of you, but you invite him in with your legs spread before you wrap them around his waist. You gasp softly, your walls hugging his cock just right.

He grunts as well, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t move for an agonizing while, but you still enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up with him, feeling him in all possible ways. 

You touch the back of his head, closing your eyes. You’re content like this. And even when he starts slowly thrusting, he stays there, and you hold him. He doesn’t move too much, only back and forth, not even pulling out entirely before pushing back in. His thrusts are deep, and he buries his cock to the hilt every single time. He brushes your G-spot, then sinks back in. He doesn’t pull out further than that. He doesn’t go fast or hard, he just stays deep, and you remember what he said about making love to you. 

You’re not fucking or having sex, this is intimacy in its rawest form, and you get to enjoy it with him. 

Your nails dig into his beautiful ass, guiding his movements. He’s right where you need him, he knows that. Your little whimpers and soft moans of his name are enough to tell him he’s doing it just right. 

Eventually, he lifts himself on his forearm, intertwining your fingers. He pulls out a little further, but the pace doesn’t change. With the moonlight stroking his delicate features, he looks like an angel on top of you. He makes you feel like you’re in heaven, and he gives you a sweet taste of paradise with every kiss pressed to your skin. He moves from your lips to your cheek to your throat, and he continues the same path several times before staring deep into your eyes again. 

Your foreheads rest against each other. He picks up the pace a little, but only just a little because he knows you’re both close. It’s not an intense or forced orgasm, it’s you two losing yourselves in each other and finding simple pleasure in the little things. But you’re closer than ever like this. 

Michael catches your clit between his fingers, angling his thrusts a little further up. You see stars, his cock hitting your G-spot repeatedly, but gently enough not to overstimulate you further. You enjoy it, you love it, and you moan in response. 

He grunts. “I love ya,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ much. You have no idea.”

“Fuck,” you cling to him as you moan again. “I love you too. Ah!”

It unleashes something in him. Hearing the words from you in that tone makes him desperate, and he rubs your clit faster as his cock drives into you just as fast, and then even harder. It’s still not him fucking you though. He’s being gentle while also being a little rougher with his pace, but gentle nonetheless. He is determined to get you there first, just right before he can burst at the seams.

You make it so incredibly hard not to come too soon.

Michael pulls out all the cards he knows he can play to make you come before him. It’s like his voice is an invisible controller and has a direct connection to your cunt because when he starts purring into your ear, you clench tightly around him, and your moans grow more frequent as he thrusts.

“So good fer me,” he says. “Such a perfect little cunt. Yer fuckin’ perfect. Fuckin’ gorgeous, pet, huh? And all mine. That’s what you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you cry, gradually losing more oxygen. 

“Tell me. Who do ya belong to?”

“You, Michael!”

It will always be him, you think. He owns you in all aspects he can own you, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs if you weren’t so high right now. 

He comes impossibly closer. “Let go,” he says. “Let go for me and come.”

You clench around him, your orgasm feeling more like a gentle breeze compared to before, but it runs deep, and it connects you, melting your skin and blood into his. 

He spurts his cum deep inside of you, and he does so at almost the same time you cross the finish line. His grunts turn into a loud moan, his body stiffening in your arms, and then he slacks. 

Even totally spent, he doesn’t waste a moment to tell you, “Good girl,” but then silence settles back in between you as you bask in the afterglow. 

You lazily stroke your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands under your fingertips. He shivers – it’s the first time you’ve felt him do so – and you manage to grab the blanket before throwing it over you. 

You know you should get up, but with him inside and on top of you, everything else seems to fade away, time stops and you can just be together without responsibilities. 

His breath fans hotly against your shoulder. “I love you,” he repeats the words from before, muffled through your skin, and injects them right into your bloodstream.

Michael's breath against your shoulder somehow has the magical ability to soothe you. The orgasms took it out of you and you're spent, but you don't want to close your eyes and rest when you can just hold him close like this and forget the world together.

At night, tranquility becomes a comforting blanket, which makes it easier to be alive at night than during the day, but it's even more so with Michael in your arms. You intertwine your fingers with his again, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, then to the top of his head, and rest your own against him. 

“I know I said I had to spend more time at home and learn to be with myself,” he says, “but… can I stay? Just for t’night?”

 A soft smile graces your lips as you reach out to caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “Of course, you can always stay,” you say. “Anytime you want, you can stay.”

He sighs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You press another kiss to his scalp. 

The warmth of his body is comforting, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. It’s your common sense that snaps you awake again before his snores can reach your ear. He is still buried deep inside of you with his cum trickling out of you and sticking to your skin, and you need to get it off. 

“Okay, but I really have to go to the toilet now, or else I’ll get a UTI and then what we just did won’t be possible for a while.”

Michael grumbles, “Alright.” He rolls off of you, keeping the blanket wrapped around him to stay warm with the sweat sticking to his skin. 

You force yourself to sit up, even with your muscles aching. The soreness is pleasant because of the reason behind it, but you want nothing more than to stay by his side for a while longer and bask in it until you have fallen asleep. 

But you really don’t want a UTI. 

“Don't worry, darling. I won't be long,” you assure him, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before making your way to the bathroom.

On your way there, you toss him a towel and encourage him to get at least the cum off of his thighs, and he begrudgingly does so.

By the time you have cleaned yourself up and returned to the bedroom, his eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. He tried to stay awake, but failed miserably. That’s what it looks like when you view the position he fell asleep in. He’s half-sitting, half-lying, but it looks adorable.

You admire the way he sleeps; it's nothing special, not at all, yet he looks so beautiful. His forehead is void of the wrinkles of worry he often carries, and he looks entirely peaceful for once.

His vulnerability in sleep only makes you love him more. With careful steps, you make your way back into bed next to him, finding your place exactly where he planned you to be. 

Sliding under the covers, you curl up beside him, pressing yourself closer. Even deep in slumber, his subconscious compels him to wrap his arm around you. He sighs, nuzzling into you as you do the same with him.

His heartbeat and breathing are steady under your head, and you can already feel it dragging you down into the void of sleep with him.

You reach out to trace your fingers lightly over the contours of his face and through his messy hair. He should have cleaned up too, but he was way too tired, and you don't mind that he's a little sweaty.

“I love you,” you whisper, knowing that he can't hear you. You press a tender kiss against his collarbone. “Sweet dreams.”

As sleep begins to pull at your own tired eyes, your breathing synchronizes with his, and there is no place you would rather be right now than right here in his arms. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella

[skzhocomments]

In the Dark - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 12 - Somewhere I belong

General masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

---

Chapter 12 - Somewhere I belong

chapter word count: ~4.4k words

~Jieun’s POV~

“Okay, kids! That’s all for today. See you tomorrow!” I waved and opened the door of the classroom, watching as parents came and picked up their children.

Just as usual, Nari and I were the last in the room, and I helped her take out some of her books so we could do her homework together until 4 PM, when I would take her to her art classes.

My grandmother’s funeral was two weeks ago, and the days since have brushed over me with such force, I felt like a small boat broken apart by large swells. I was still feeling strange about everything, and wasn’t sure how to keep going further, as there was no longer any final goal for me to reach, anything at stake.

I only moved to this city to take my grandmother to the best hospital in the country, but now that she was gone, what need was there for me to stay here?

I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t have any friends, my grandmother was gone.

Why would I stay here?

My eyes absent-mindedly turned to Nari, and I watched her solve her math problems in concentration. The furrow of her brows was really cute, and her resemblance to Minho was uncanny.

I found myself smiling at the thought of the father-daughter duo, and then I felt a pang in my heart, as Minho and I still haven’t addressed the whole In the Dark fiasco. We haven’t spent much alone time together after the funeral, and it felt unnatural to talk about it.

I wasn’t even sure how to broach the subject anyway.

Hey, Minho, I’m a whore! Surprise!

That surely wouldn’t work.

Instead of thinking about it any further, I started helping Nari with the more difficult exercises, and the hours passed by quickly.

“Okay, Nari, it’s time to go to your art classes.” I smiled and stood up, helping her put everything back in her pink backpack.

As if on cue, the door opened just as I said this, and Minho came in the classroom.

“Daddy!” Nari shot up and ran to her father’s arms, and my eyes widened.

“Hi, baby.” He kissed her head. “You ready to go?”

“Are you taking me to art today?!” She asked, her eyes full of surprise.

“Yes, Miss Park and I will take you to your art classes together today.” He replied, and I looked at him confused.

Nari returned to her backpack to finish packing as Minho came towards me.

“I was hoping you’d be free to talk a bit afterwards?”

“Sure.” I nodded, but I felt my chest tighten.

~

“So…” Minho smiled, looking a bit uncomfortable, and I was feeling just as restless.

He took me to a café, so I decided to focus on my coffee cup for the time being, feeling the impending doom his next words would most certainly bring.

“I really wanted to talk to you, but it’s been a bit chaotic with everything going on…” He continued.

“Yeah…”

“And you’ve also avoided my texts and calls like the plague.”

“I… uhm… I didn’t…” I shifted in my seat, unsure of what to say to excuse myself.

He was right, I’ve been avoiding all his attempts of reaching out, simply because I didn’t know how to act around him anymore. I only answered if there was something at stake concerning Nari, but that was pretty much it.

“It’s okay, Jieun. I know you’re probably feeling very awkward…”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not necessarily. You see… I had my doubts about you being Flame for a while. I just wasn’t certain.”

“I also thought you might be Charisma, but it felt like such an absurd thought, that I discarded it pretty much immediately.” I confessed.

“Absurd? How so?”

“Well, uhm… yeah, you’re right. This is really awkward.” I chuckled nervously, but Minho didn’t seem to pick up what I meant from my gestures alone. “I mean, look at you, Minho. You… you have it all. The personality, the looks, the money. You could be with anyone you wanted. Why would you hire a prostitute?”

“Because… I’ve been really scared of any intimacy after my wife passed. I guess I wasn’t ready for any serious relationships. When I found out about this site… I thought it might be good to try something new for a change.”

“Oh.”

“What about you, Jieun? Why were you on there?”

“I needed money for my grandmother’s bills and didn’t know how else to get it. It’s as simple as that. I’m feeling so ashamed right now. You must think I have no morals-”

“Hey.” He placed his hand on top of mine. “I don’t think anything like that about you. In fact, I’m really glad I found out, and that it was you. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about, yeah?”

“Minho, I can’t even look you in the eyes knowing that if you wouldn’t have been my consistent client I would’ve just sold myself to any other man who would’ve paid. It’s so hard to not feel ashamed, guilty even. And you’re glad you found out and that it was me?!”

“Yes. I’m glad because I was also feeling guilty for having feelings for you, Nari’s teacher, and wanting to pursue a relationship with you, while thinking about Flame. So, yes, Jieun, I’m really glad Flame was you the whole time, and it makes so much sense, too.”

“How does it make any sense?”

“Because I’ve always known what I want, or rather, who I want. But this time… damn, the whole situation was messing with my head, because I wanted you both. I’ve fallen for you twice. I started liking you, Flame, from your gestures alone. Remember that time you ‘kissed me’ with your hand on top of my lips? Who does that to show affection while respecting that one request I had, Jieun?”

“I just… it felt right, in that moment.” I averted my gaze.

“So, you also felt it. It wasn’t simply the fact that we were having sex, it was… more.”

“I also… felt confused. I liked Charisma a lot, I was even glad he wanted to keep seeing me because I enjoyed spending time with him. And then we started spending more time together, and I realised I also like you, Minho. I liked spending time with you and Nari, I liked us drinking together, and when you kissed me that night… I wanted to take it further so bad, but… it felt wrong, considering I was selling myself, you know?”

“I see…”

“That’s why I don’t even know what to say to you now. Because if Charisma stopped seeing me, and my grandma would’ve still been alive, I would’ve… I would’ve continued selling myself... to someone else, that wouldn't have been you.”

“That a hypothetical scenario, Jieun.”

“Even so.”

“I would’ve still understood, if you’d told me. Sex for money and sex for love are different things, so how could I be upset that you were a prostitute?”

A prostitute.

It stung.

“Are they that different, though? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel any different when it was Charisma.”

To that, it seemed I shut Minho down for a few moments. Still, he recovered quickly and kept persisting, going back to one of his previous points.

“If we would’ve talked-”

“Then what?” I cut him off. “You’re being too idealistic, Minho.”

“I could’ve still paid you, or-” He started, but stopped as soon as I threw him a look. “Ok, that was a bad thing to say.”

He chuckled awkwardly, and I also laughed briefly, and the air between us shifted from unbearably uncomfortable and suffocating to a bit more easy to breathe.

“The thing is, I really like you, Jieun, and I want to take us further and to be honest about our feelings. I don’t care that you were Flame, and if you also don’t mind that I was Charisma, then what is holding us back?”

His words made my eyes instantly turn back to my now empty coffee cup. I should’ve been happy hearing this, perhaps, but for some reason, his words were registering in a wrong way in my head, and dread was settling down in my stomach.

I wanted to be with Minho, that much I knew, but somehow, it felt as complicated as trying to force the stars to align. But aren’t stars just old, dead lights?

What is left of us, then?

What if what I wanted from Minho was simply out of reach, even if it seemed closer than ever? After all, I always had the tendency to reach for the unreachable, and Minho felt like he was just that.

He was out of my reach, even if he was sitting right in front of me, confessing some… fleeting feelings.

What if he’d change his mind once he fully processed that I’ve never been that great woman he made me out to be in his head?

I was just a whore. We were doomed from the beginning.

How could I even begin to accept his words, with my heart feeling this deep agony?

What was there even left to say to him about this whole train wreck we found ourselves in? 

I was rummaging through my head like I would for something in my bag, but with such a mess inside, it was too hard to find anything.

It was better to keep silent.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now…” He started after a while, and I realised how much time I’ve been deep in thought for, which forced an apologetic smile on my face. I couldn't say anything after all. I couldn't... I couldn't accept his feelings, not with the ache in my heart and this unbearable fog in my brain.

I couldn't.

“I don’t know where to go from here, Minho. Me, you… us?” I chuckled bitterly. “It’s… it’s too complicated. Too many things happened at once and I think I haven’t fully processed anything. I’m sorry, but I… I need some time to put my thoughts in order.” I said, and every word burned my tongue, but it was true.

My feelings were too complicated to navigate now, and I needed more time to process it all, to think about whether I should stay here or go back to my hometown and friends. Whether I should keep living here and lean on Minho and maybe become the mother Nari’s never had or return to my previous life and try to forget that this past year has even happened.

“I understand.” Minho replied in a kind tone and placed his hand on top of mine, over the table. “You should just focus for yourself on the time being, Jieun. Everything else can wait.”

~

It was hard getting out of the slump I fell in.

Days blurred into each other, grey, never changing. 

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, sleep and repeat.

Day after day, week after week, this mindless routine was the only thing that helped keep my life in a somewhat order.

The first few weeks were the hardest. As my grandmother’s death began settling in, so did all the suffocating feelings I’ve been repressing. It was hard to focus on anything once the shock wore off, because the heartbreak was too painful, and the realisation that my grandma would never call my name again hit me like a truck.

When I was at home, I would try to focus on reading or on watching a show just to get my mind off things, but I would keep spacing out instead. I would try cleaning, only to end up in bed one hour later, realising I don’t have enough energy to at least stand up. I'd go to the bathroom for a quick shower, only to realise it's been two hours and the water ran cold.

Every action I did was performed with thin detachment, as I wasn’t really feeling like a person.

It was quite ironic, really. Having been independent for so long, I was used to being on my own. This time, however, it felt lonelier than ever. It felt isolating and painful, and remembering how I got to this point felt like getting punched in the gut over and over again.

I missed my grandmother. Terribly. And this thought kept recurring, making me break down and sob, crying my heart out until no more tears would fall. But despite of this, time kept moving on, giving me no chance whatsoever to collect myself. 

They say time heals, but it somehow didn't lessen the suffocating pain in my chest.

As the weeks passed, however, I got better at managing these episodes.

On my own, I learnt how to calm myself down, how to stop crying and how to accept the harsh reality. It took a long time to do so.

My destructive pattern of isolating myself from others came in full force though, and a lot of things around me changed. For instance, I stopped reaching out to the friends I still had left in my hometown, and I stopped replying to Minho.

I couldn't. I couldn't speak to anyone. It hurt too much to articulate what I was feeling, and being on my own felt like the safest option.

My former friends all stopped trying, eventually.

Falling into a pointless routine felt like the only way I could protect myself, keep myself from becoming insane. I tried to focus all my energy into teaching my class, coming up with new lesson plans and grading papers, because thinking about anything else made my head hurt.

This worked for a while, but the loneliness started eating away at me slowly. I still wasn’t sure of what to do but knowing that everyone else had their own lives while I was stuck on my trauma felt even more lonely and isolating. It was like trying to speak but having an index finger against my mouth.

I realised slowly that this isolation was not beneficial to me at all. It was hurtful not only to myself, but also to those people I’ve been keeping at arm’s length. Still, it didn't feel right trying to get back in touch with my friends. There was too much distance between us now, too many unspoken words.

I considered once again it might be better to keep staying on my own, but my anxiety got the best of me, and then, one evening, when it all got too overwhelming, I knew I had to do something about it. I needed to stop thinking for once, to stop making excuses or ponder on what to say or how to apologise for being so detached. I just picked up my phone, texting the one person who hasn’t stopped trying even though I’ve been distant.

The moment I sent him the message, he called. Instantly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I replied sheepishly. I felt bad.

I haven’t answered him much lately, and despite the pointless conversations about the weather (or such) we had while he dropped Nari off and picked her up from school, we haven’t really talked... at all.

Because of me.

“Are you feeling any better? I was waiting for your text, you know.” He chuckled slightly.

“Yeah…” I replied, but quickly shook my head, even if he wasn’t able to see me. “… no. Sorry.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Should I come over or come pick you up?”

“What about Nari?”

“Sleepover at Jiho.”

“Okay.”

“Great. I’ll be there in 15.”

Once we ended the call, I started looking around my apartment, noticing how messy everything was. Lots of items were misplaced, there were clothes on the floor, unwashed coffee mugs, and it was generally a mess.

I started picking up a few things before realising I should probably take a quick shower and change from my pyjamas, because I haven’t changed since yesterday afternoon when I got back from school, so I gave up on cleaning the apartment and cleaned myself instead.

When I was out of the shower, Minho was already at my door, and the apartment was still a mess. Only the living room was somehow presentable.

I opened the door slowly, peeking from the inside at the man who, despite dressed casually, looked like a million bucks.

“Hi.” I smiled, pondering on whether I should invite him in or not.

Minho smiled at me expectedly.

“Do you… uhm… want to come in?”

“If you’ll have me?” He chuckled softly. The situation was once again absurd. I told him to come over, and now I was reluctant to let him in simply because I had a messy apartment.

“I didn’t clean up…” I smiled apologetically and moved away from the door, and Minho followed me in with a chuckle.

“This is you not cleaning up? You can’t be serious, Jieun.” He looked around and then threw me a look.

“It’s dirty.”

“A few things are misplaced, yeah, but it’s definitely not dirty.” He laughed and patted my head once, as if I was a child.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I grabbed his arm as I saw him bend down to rearrange my shoes.

“Helping out.”

“No.”

“No?” He laughed again, then pointed to my little shoe rack in the corner of the hallway. “It’s gonna take two seconds to put these there.”

“Still.” I shook his hand a bit and found myself pouting, before quickly correcting my expression.

“Can you make me a tea while I put these there?”

“Okay…” I reluctantly agreed and let him be and went into the kitchen. I picked up some dried mint and made tea, and then took the two mugs to the living room, where Minho already made himself at home on my sofa.

“Thanks.” He smiled, picking up the mug I handed him.

I sat down as well and looked into my teacup, examining the liquid as my heart was doing rounds in my chest. I wanted to apologise for basically disappearing, and I wanted to tell him everything that was on my chest, all the thoughts that didn’t let me sleep for the past weeks.

But I didn’t know how to begin, or where.

“Long time no see.” He started for me, placing a soothing hand on my back and making me look at him. I saw him putting his mug on the table, and I followed suit absent-mindedly.

“Minho, look… I’m sorry for-” I started, but he cut me off by taking me by surprise with a hug.

I stopped talking and just hugged him back, breathing in his scent. He smelled good, like soap and deodorant, with a tint of perfume on his shirt.

When he pulled away, he looked at me and removed a few strands of hair from my face.

“You lost weight.” He frowned. “And you’re pale.”

“You saw me almost every day, Minho.” I reminded him. Despite not talking or meeting one-on-one, we did see each other every working day of the week when he came to school.

“Not this close.” He shook his head. “How are you feeling, Jieun?”

He let me go and picked his mug to take a sip of his tea, and I did the same, because I didn’t know where else to put my hands, or what to do.

“Honestly…” I shook my head. “Not good, Minho.”

I let out a shaky breath and blinked back a couple of tears.

“I’m sorry.” I chuckled. “It’s just that… everything is so confusing. My feelings are all over the place, and I’m tired all the time, and I couldn’t even reach out to anyone. It felt like the biggest chore to get up in the morning, to get dressed… and even to reply to texts. I got so fed up with everyone’s texts, really. I am so sorry for your loss. Let me know if you need anything. It’s so damn tiring, Minho.”

He didn’t say anything, however, he placed his hand back on my back, rubbing circles soothingly.

“I don’t know what to do to get back on track, to feel a bit better. I’m completely lost. I focused so much on making sure my grandmother is taken care of, and now that she’s gone, I feel like my life no longer has any purpose.”

“It does, Jieun.”

“Like what? What am I even doing in this city, Minho? I don’t even belong here-”

“That’s not true.” He cut me off. “You have a job to get back to, with so many children knowing that there’s a safe space that waits for them in your classroom. You have your little routine here, your own place-”

“I’m renting, it’s not really my place.” I mumbled, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“You know what I meant. Point is, you’ve been building this life for the past year, you’ve made your own habits, you have a favourite coffee shop, and a favourite market, and hell, you told me yourself about how your neighbour’s dogs even recognise you and come to play with you, so how can you not belong here?”

His words made me pout slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Minho, who put his hands on my face and forced my lips in a smile.

“You’re so childish.” I started laughing at his antics, and he smiled kindly.

“And you also belong next to me and Nari. She’s been asking me to invite you to dinner practically every day, and it’s getting harder and harder to make up excuses on why you can’t come. She misses you, Jieun.”

“I don’t know, Minho. I’m still feeling so weird about… everything, really. I’m still confused about us.”

“What is there to be confused about?” He tilted his head. “I’m in love with you, it’s as simple as that.”

He confessed, and I had to blink a few times.

“What?”

“What? Why are you so shocked?” He laughed softly and leaned back. "I told you before that I have feelings for you."

“You did, but... You are so… direct.” I looked at him, confusion plastered all over my face. “I just didn’t expect you to say it so… causally.”

“I told you, Jieun. I want to be honest about my feelings from now on.”

“How come you haven’t changed your mind? I’ve ignored you this past month.”

“Ah, so it was on purpose!” He exclaimed, making me roll my eyes and laugh. “Jokes aside, of course I wouldn’t have changed my mind. If anything, I feel like I got to think way more about you, and us, and it’s made things so much clearer. If it was not fate that we met first on In the Dark, and then practically the second day in your classroom, I have no idea what fate is supposed to be.”

“It’s truly weird that things worked out like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, and I told you. You made me fall for you twice. The first time, slowly through your words and actions, when seeing how good you fit in with me and Nari and how much you add to our lives, and the second time, without even knowing who you are or what you look like, once again through your actions and the small details.”

“Damn, I’m pretty good, aren’t I?” I joked, but Minho nodded truthfully, his eyes full of praise.

“Now, of course, there’s also the chance that you don’t like me back, which, I mean, would pretty much suck, but I’d understand.”

“It’s obviously not that.” I rolled my eyes again, then looked at how he was manspreading on my sofa.

“Oh, yeah?” He challenged me, and it felt as if I was under a spell, because the next thing I did came naturally.

I shifted on the sofa and made my way over to him, supporting my hands against the backrest and hopping onto his lap, straddling him.

He raised an eyebrow and let out a smirk, and I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. Although we’ve been in this position a lot of times, even naked, it was the first time I was actually seeing him.

With another leap of courage, I grabbed his face in my hands and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

“I do like you, Minho.” I said in a quiet voice. “I’m just insecure.”

“Do I make you feel insecure? Do you doubt me, or my feelings for you?” He asks, as quietly as me, and put his hand on top of mine, squeezing.

“No.” I shook my head. “It is I who makes me feel insecure. I don’t think I’m good enough for… for you.”

It was hard getting this confession out of my chest, but it’s one of the main reasons why I’ve been hesitant to let Minho in. While keeping my grandmother in the hospital, I’ve tried my hardest to not look down on myself. I tried rationalizing why I was selling my body, and it made sense, but now, with her gone and with way too much time to spare, my mind kept spiralling.

The same answers I’ve told Minho weeks ago during coffee were circling through my head repeatedly. If she were still alive, and if Minho wouldn’t have found out that I was Flame… what would I have done? Date him while cheating on him with Charisma - or God forbid, with another man - every other night just for some more money to pay the bills?

Everything weighted way too heavily, and I felt another pang in my heart and another headache settling between my temples.

“What do you even mean, Jieun?” Minho asked calmly, his voice soft. “You’re not only good enough. You’re perfect for me.”

As he said that, he moved his other hand closer to my face, rubbing the frown away from between my eyebrows.

“Are you looking down on me for visiting Flame through In the Dark?” He asked all of the sudden, checking my eyes for answers.

“What? Of course not!”

“Why not?”

“You had your reasons.”

“So did you. So stop looking down on yourself.” He moved both hands on my waist and kept looking into my eyes, and God, the way he was looking at me was so beautiful.

The whole moment felt intimate, despite the pain in my chest, and I could feel my heart thump harder. Things looked so easy from Minho’s perspective, so black and white, but my head was a mix of colours sprawled around all over the place.

“Please don’t doubt my feelings.” Minho shifted our bodies, sitting up straight and pressing me closer to his chest, while whispering in my ear.

His hands started dancing from my waist to my back, giving me goosebumps all over.

“I missed you.” He whispered again, pressing a small kiss on my collarbone, before raising his face to look at me.

“I missed you too.” I whispered back, kissing his lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, but this time, it didn’t sound challenging. It sounded genuine, and full of hope.

“You’re such a patient man, Minho. All these weeks of me ignoring your texts, and you still picked up and came here when I reached out.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for reaching out to me, Jieun. Please don’t pull away again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Minho smiled and kissed my lips again, and then hugged me tight, and the night witnessed our silent promises as we went to sleep embraced, and for the first time in weeks, I was able to get a good night's rest.

~

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

[levis-coffeecup]

Chapter 19 | Tangled Threads

WC-6.3 k

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language.

Author's note:

Hi guys,

Feels like I should stop making promises about when the next chapter will be out, because I always end up being late lol. But this time it was an internet issue I promise.

Also I don't know why I feel like there is a big para where the tense is different or the things just don't make sense. I've gone over that chapter once so hopefully its just me being anxious, and I haven't skipped past anything. (But if I have then please don't judge me and let me know lol).

This chapter was lowkey inspired by the song Phir Le Aya dil , so that's the song for this chapter. Also all the future songs for the chapters might be desi songs because being in New York only makes me feel more patriotic 🤡

Anyways thanks for tuning in, and I hope you find the chapter to your liking.

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Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

JAN 847

Ivan’s wedding is finally here. And Levi and Mae settle in a hotel in Mitras, taking a night’s rest, before attending the function tomorrow.

The room they stay in is small. Meant for one person only, but it was the only thing that fit their budget, in a city as expensive as Mitras.

There’s a desk and chair in the opposite corner, with a cupboard next to it. And their shared suitcase lays open on the floor, with a towel kept on top of it.

Mae has cozied up on the bed. Fresh from a bath.

The trip from Jinae to Mitras has been exhausting. Her legs are sore from sitting in that cramped cart for so long. It was filled with people and there was not a single woman inside, besides her.

And she’s so grateful that Levi was with her. Even though he probably has no interest in Ivan’s wedding whatsoever. He made her feel so safe and protected.

Levi walks fresh out of the shower. With a pair of trousers on, and the scent of his body wash steaming out of the bathroom.

Her face softens.

Fresh drops of water still drip down his lower back, and coils of wet hair stick to his skin. And his muscles flex as he bends down to pick his towel from the suitcase.

And Mae pines over him in silence. Almost smiling.

She’s going to spend the next 3 days with him. A part of her is so excited, because this is the first time she gets to spend so long with him. But a part of her also doesn’t want to bring her hopes too high, in case she ends up getting disappointing again.

Because her relationship with Levi has always been a rocky one. Often leading to more doubt than warmth..

He takes the towel off his shoulders, and starts to dry his hair. And Mae can only stare as desire ignites in her stomach.

She hasn’t pecked his cheek, ever since that day, when he dropped her off home. She’s even stopped casually touching his arm. And much to her disappointment, Levi hasn’t brought it up.

She wonders if he ever misses it. She wonders if he ever melts at her touch, just like she does.

And tonight, it's just the two of them, staying in this dimly lit room with this small bed that can only fit one person. She wonders if he’ll initiate something. He’s a man after all.

“Levi!“ She chimes, her smile welcoming and her eyes are warm. And she pats the spot on the bed, next to her, as she sweetly mutters, “will you sleep on the bed next to me?”

“You can take the bed,” he answers instantaneously, continuing to pat his hair dry, Not even pondering over her offer for a moment.

And just like always, she tries but he doesn’t bother. And just like always, she reaches a hand forth, only to see him take 2 steps backward.

It adds to her frustration, like fuel to fire. “And where will you sleep?” She asks exasperated.

And Levi pauses, sensing the tiniest shifts in her mood. He looks up at her, his lithe eyebrows, rumpled.

He never sleeps on the bed, not even in his quarters.

He sleeps on his desk chair instead, with his ODM gear sprawled on the desk, in a way that if the titan breaks through any moment, he can quickly put the gear on. And be ready for what is to come.

He sleeps on his desk chair, so that he can feel the tremors on the ground, if the titans ever do barge in.

Because Levi lives every moment with the uncertainty of whether he’ll make it to the next.

And even though they are in Mitras, the safest spot in the walls. He still can’t get himself to sleep on the bed.

Habits from his past catch up to him. Unseen, unexpected tragedies have always found him. They have made him fearful, and it's indeed this fear instilled deep within him that makes him competent as a soldier..

And then there’s Mae too. He knows her back hurts from sitting in the cart all day long. And he wants her to have a good rest, he wants her to have the entire bed.

It's one of the ways he expresses his love for her. By always keeping her needs above his.

“The chair is good enough for me,” He speaks with diligence. And Mae finds the sincerity in his voice suffocating. She almost wants to scoff, but she also doesn't want to start a fight, this late at night.

Only married couples who can’t stand each other sleep separately.

And she wistfully watches, as he puts the towel aside, his hair now dried. She notices the exhaustion in his eyes and the slight slouch of his shoulders.

She’s told him how necessary good sleep is, for a soldier like him. She’s told him how bad sleeping on the chair is for his posture and his health. And she also set up a whole routine for him to follow before bed. To help him with his insomnia.

But he probably doesn’t even care enough to remember it. Let alone follow it.

Everything in this relationship feels so one-sided, it's exhausting.

And defeated, she flops down on the bed. Pushing herself in the corner, just in case Levi changes his mind and wants to sleep on the bed as well.

Goodnight, she wants to say to him. But it feels futile.

Little does she know Levi looks so exhausted, because he’s stayed awake a couple nights, to complete all his work. So that he can make it here.

And when he looks over to her sleeping figure, his face softens.

She looks so adorable, huddled up in a fuzzy blanket with just her head sticking out. He can’t help but make his way towards her.

The desire of being closer to her seems both illogical yet unquenchable. But he doesn’t want to go overboard like he once did, he doesn’t want to get lost in the current of his feelings and do something he will regret. And most of all he doesn’t want to hurt her in any way.

Because he has never been good at anything gentle. He’s scared that he’ll touch her and she’ll shatter at the strength his hand holds. That someday he’ll touch her and she’ll disappear. Making all his fears come to fruition.

So his hands quake as they extend towards her cheek, as if she is a precious imagery that will distort the moment he touches her.

Erwin’s words still ring in his head loud and clear.

And he wonders if he’s being too selfish, by still keeping her around when he’ll never be able to provide her the type of life he wants her to live. He wonders if he’s being too cruel to her, when he knows that their story will end grimly either way.

And the end is surely near, with how things have been going the past couple of days.

Mae’s stopped pecking his cheek, she’s stopped her playful banter, and she’s stopped telling him random things about her day,

She’s already unhappier. And the decision to move the headquarters elsewhere has been made final.

She’ll end up leaving, disappointed by him. That’s what’s most probable now. And at this point Levi knows he’s so attached, that it's going to hurt twice as bad.

But still, he likes to think that he doesn’t regret his decision to be with her.

Because he doesn’t want to lose her just yet, even if he is meant to lose her somewhere along the way. He doesn’t want to go back to being 2 strangers at a bar, with a knotted past. Even though their time together is waning out.

One day, these fleeting memories are all he’ll have of her.

And so he decides that today, he’ll finally kiss her cheek too. He’s wanted to do it since forever. Ever since the day she first pecked him.

But he hardly had the courage to ask her for it when she’s wide awake. His shyness always got the best of him. But now she’s sleeping, peacefully like a baby.

And so he walks over to her, and gently scoops her into his arms. Placing her in the center of the bed. Perfectly tucking her in the blanket again.

And so he waits a little longer, admiring this moment and how peacefully she rests. And then he squats down.

And his lips hover over her cheek for a little while, before they finally land and kiss on it tenderly.

________________

The preparations for the wedding look elaborate.

A big field lays decorated, lush with green grass. Tables are lined up, covered with a silk tablecloth. And the chairs are decorated with white ruffles too. A red carpet is stretched out on the grass. And in the center, is the wedding altar. Its pillars, decorated with vines and flowers. And a delicate white net dangling from its top.

It's quite cold though, but nothing that the people of Mitras aren’t used to. The sky is relatively clear. And flurries of white clouds float around in the clear blues. Perfectly complimenting the white roses, used in the decorations.

Everything looks so heavenly, and Mae feels out of place when she sees it all.

A part of her finds it hard to believe that this could be her, getting married here instead. With such a fancy arrangement, and nobility as guests.

She wonders if she made the right choice that day. By picking Levi over everything else.

And Levi walks beside her, badgered with guilt as well.

He can see the way her eyes sparkle, dazed by all the luxury around her. This was the type of life Mae could have lived. The type of life he can never provide.

And guilt badgers in his gut once again. He feels like he has cheated her, given her too much false hope.

“Mae,” he lets out a sigh. Voice heavy and hesitant. “I need to tell you something.”

And he doesn’t know why he is bringing this up right now, at this wedding that they are supposed to enjoy. Maybe it's the remorse clawing inside him, and maybe it's the fact that he could possibly never make her this happy.

Silence stretches between them. It's almost been 3 months since they’ve started dating, and things seem to have mellowed down.

Mae doesn’t want to be needy, and Levi always wants to give her space. But hope still fills her eyes when she hears his voice. And his gaze softens, ever so subtly.

“Go ahead, Levi,” she mutters, a tad bit excited. It's one of the few times when Levi initiates something by himself. And she hopes it's something about the type of marriage they’d have.

“Erwin is thinking of moving the headquarters elsewhere.” Levi states with his usual nonchalance. It’s something he’s practiced a thousand times before the mirror now.

And the silence that unfolds is a stiff one.

Mae looks down at the ground, with a hard glare.

And Levi looks down as well, steepling his fingers. He can sense the shift in her mood. It's a mix of grieving, disappointment and frustration. And she likes to not be bothered when her mood is sour.

So he remains quiet, giving her the space to ponder. Plus he doesn’t really know what to say to make things better. He knows he’s a pain in the ass. He knows there isn't much he can provide for her, in comparison to Ivan .

And he also knows their future isn’t too bright. It’s something he’d guessed from the start.He just hopes she doesn’t regret being with him, for whatever time their destiny allowed.

And Mae feels a heaviness settle in her heart.

She’s always longing for him. Longing to talk to him. Longing to spend more time with him. Longing that somewhere, his hand will find hers, and lead her to someplace better. And he’s always withdrawing from her. Withdrawing from her touches. Withdrawing from her wishes. And withdrawing from the vulnerability that a relationship brings.

And if only he was brave enough to give her any sort of explanation, she would tell him that distance will never stop her from loving him.

The beautiful decorations around her only feel suffocating. All she needs is a few moments of peace in Levi’s arms. She’s battered and exhausted. Sometimes she doesn’t understand how she finds the strength to face the world.

And she wishes she could hold on to his hand.

But she knows Levi hates any form of public affection. Or scratch that, she knows he hates affection in itself. It's been 3 months already, and he’s never held her hand, even in the privacy of his chambers.

It’s exhausting, to be stuck in this loop of wanting and withdrawing. It feels like she’s all alone in this. But unknowingly. yet as always, Levi stands right beside her, in the same boat, with the same troubles.

And if only she ever said something she would know that her comfort matters more to him, more than his own apprehensions and nervousness.

Ivan stands in the distance, looking over a few decorations next to the altar. His jet black tuxedo stands out, in the greens of the grass, and all the white the servants wear. And Mae needs a distraction she tells herself. Her mind is drained, thinking of Levi night and day.

And Levi can simply follow, as she starts walking towards Ivan instead.

He’s tall and fair, just like he’s always been. He turns towards Mae and flashes her a smile. His eyes sparkling blue,in all the sunlight.

They start talking about the wedding preparations, and a certain vigor weaves into Mae’s tone. She tells him how wonderful the arrangement looks. And she also keeps her hand on his upper arm, when he tells her how exhausted he is.

And Levi stands behind her, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Seething with something feral.

He thought she didn’t like speaking to anyone when she’s feeling low. And yet she’s speaking to Ivan with such enthusiasm. She wasn’t speaking to him this way a few minutes before.

Jealousy curls in the pit of his stomach. But he deserves it, he tells himself. He deserves all her silences. And he deserves all the pain her actions inflict.

Time ticks by slow, and somehow the conversation shifts. All of a sudden Mae is introducing him to Ivan.

And Ivan smiles at him, extending a hand forward out of courtesy.

But Levi just glares at it. His insecurities make him bitter .

The moment stretches, the tension palpable.

“Levi!” Mae elbows him, and throws him a disapproving look. And he wallows even deeper in his insecurities, knowing he has disappointed her even more.

Mae asks Ivan where Mr. Mendes is, and Ivan points towards the huge mansion built on the other side of the ground. They talk for a few more moments, and then Mae bids her goodbye, and starts walking towards the mansion.

And Levi just simply follows, unsure whether she even wants him around.

The mansion is big, even more intimidating up close. And its door lays wide open, as handmaidens and cleaners jog in and out.

And Mae gasps, awestruck as she steps inside. The interior is made of gleaming polished wood and the paneled walls run tall. And every piece of furniture is so intricate, it could be placed in a museum.

Her eyes glance around, wide in wonder.

Ivan’s marrying the daughter of the noble he was treating. She must be a gift to keep Mr. Mendes and Ivan around. It's a business deal of sorts- you stick around and treat my family, from our hereditary disease. And I share my wealth with you and give you my daughter.

Things have surely played out really well for Ivan.

And she hopes Mr. Mendes has had the heart to forgive her, too, as she lingers outside his door. Timid, and doubtful of her decision to see him.

Levi stands behind her like a shadow, unable to meet her eye, but unshakeable as ever. Her heart eases a little, his mere sight providing her comfort. Her fingers reach out to his wrist, and he looks up hesitant.

“Levi,” His name comes out so sweet from her lips. “Can you wait here for a bit? He was really unhappy with me the last time I saw him, and just in case he’s still mad, I don’t want him to take his anger out on you.”

Levi visibly softens. The self-inflicted wounds on his pride sooth a little. “Just remember that I’m right outside the door. Do call me if anything feels off… Please” he adds. Hoping she doesn’t hesitate.

And she nods, as she knocks on the door, and steps inside.

The room is small, with a bed, a study desk and a wardrobe. And Mr.Mendes sits on a rocking chair next to the window. Staring at the wedding arrangements.

It's been a few months since she last saw him. And how ever rude he might have been to her in asking her hand for marriage. She still has a fatherly bond with him.

“Mr Mendes.” She calls out, and slowly he turns his head towards her. Age has touched him harshly, his wrinkles fold deep and his eyes seem vacant and dull.

“Mae.” He mutters, eyes squinting as he throws her a glance. “You’re here too,” he states, albeit blandly.

And she looks down to the floor, scrunching the fabric of her skirt in nervousness. He doesn’t seem too happy to see her, and once again she feels unwanted.

The moment stretches, the silence is vacant. Mr.Mendes goes back to looking at the window, and Mae focuses on the floor beneath her. A little embarrassed, and guilty. Wondering if he’s still angry at her for not accepting his offer.

The tension only eases when he breaks into a fit of violent coughs.

On instinct, Mae picks up a glass of water kept on his side table, and rushes towards him. One hand on his back and the other on the glass, as she helps him chug down the water.

And he too rests his hands on her shoulder, as his coughs make him jerk forward. It brings back a ton of memories. And she finds her eyes getting watery. She never knew she would get so distant with him one day.

His coughs begin to subside, and she continues to pat his back, just like the old days. But sadly things are way different today, and a few things have changed in a way that they can’t be mended.

“What shabby clothes are you wearing?” Mr. Mendes remarks as soon as his cough settles. A scoff paints itself on his face. And he pushes himself away from her.

“They're not shabby, it's a fresh pair,” her voice teeters on the edge of a plea, and she looks down on the ground making herself small.

“Look at the life you;re living, and coming here to my son;s wedding, dressed in nothing but rags.” he spits out. His words hurt, her heart shudders. She feels insecure.

“I’m proud of the choices I;ve made, I have no regrets.” she squeaks out

“No regrets,” his face scrunches in disgust. “Are you happy then? Living in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Jinae. Working countless jobs. Settling for a good for nothing man.” His words are like venom, fuelled with anger and frustration. And he’s so weakened by his emotions, he doesn’t realize he’s yelling.

“EXCUSE ME,” Mae counters, her temper flaring up too. “He is Humanity's strongest, a respected and valued soldier in the Survey Corps. Don’t disrespect him like that.”

Because as much as things aren’t going well with him, he’s still hers. And she wouldn’t let anyone speak shit about him.

Mr. Mendes laughs, a bitter mock. “What good is that title to you, it only puts him with more risks and responsibilities making the chances of him dying higher?”

His taunt falls like a slap on her face. She feels weak, ridden of words.

Yeah, what good is that title to her? Especially when he hardly has any time for her.

“Your silence tells how much you’re disappointed in your reckless decision.” He reels back to looking at the window,” Humanity’s Strongest huh! Damn sure that title gets the underground thug all the ladies in the world… Unbelievable how a criminal gang leader can turn into a hero.“ He curses and his words echo through the thin walls.

And all of a sudden Mae’s slapped not only with Mr Mendes's wrath, but also with the secrets of Levi’s past. She finds it hard to breathe, as if the wind has been knocked right out of her lungs.

It’s the last tick, the water has gone over the bridge.

The information lays heavy on her mind, slowly the pieces of him fall together. The way he keeps a knife hidden in his clothes. And the way he knew nothing about the world when he first met her.

A thug from the Underground? Levi never told her anything about that?

“He’s no match for my son.” Mr. Mendes mutters, more to himself. And tears do well. Everything looks blurry, her heart feels dizzy. She feels defeated.

“Why are you so quiet now?” he taunts. “Did reality finally knock some sense into you?”

And Mae feels helpless, not knowing how to counter something she’s been told nothing about.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, more to herself. For being so foolish in her love. For enduring all the shit Levi put her through once again. For settling for something so… unworthy. And most of all, for loving herself less than him… once again.

Her shoulders feel heavy and her knees feel weak as she turns away.

She doesn’t even know whether the claims made by Mr. Mendes are true, or just an accusation made to mess with her. But that just proves how little she knows about Levi, and how little he cares about her.

And with the little strength in her heart she pushes the door open.

In front of her stands Levi.

He didn’t tell her this.

He didn’t tell her anything about him.

And Levi’s eyes fall down. His facade has fallen, soiled in the dirt. All that remains now, are the parts of him that have always been hated. The parts of him that are hard to love and difficult to accept.

And he feels bare, naked.

The silence is loud and sharp. Piercing like the barbed wire wrapped around Mae’s heart. And she looks at him, with disappointment knitted in her brows

Because Levi is the calm before the storm. The smell of fresh linen sheets, and the harsh rain that cleanses everything. He is stillness and chaos. With the stars in his eyes, and the world on his shoulders. A paradox so unusual, that it's a wonder on earth.

But most of all, Levi is the person she has loved with all her heart and soul. And yet, she doesn’t recognise him anymore.

He feels like a stranger. And their entanglement feels like nothing but a burden.

Questions in her mind erupt like fire. And they would sear Levi alive

She searches his slate gray eyes. The same eyes she’s utterly fallen in love with. Hoping he gives her a single explanation. Hoping he tells her that she didn’t make the wrong decision.

That he still loves her, and she can still have the fairytale relationship that she once dreamt of.

Butas always he gives her nothing. He isn’t even able to meet her eyes. Because what awaits him there, is disappointment. His biggest fear.

Her lips tremble, her heart shudders. The tiredness of all the fights she’s never had with him boggs her down.

The prolonged silence speaks tons. She hates him for keeping this from her, and he hates the way it came out to her.

And she can only pick away the pieces of her self esteem, and walk away from him. To a place where she doesn’t feel like such a fool.

The grandeur of the mansion suffocates her. She finds beauty everywhere, in every corner of the place, but in herself. And her eyes blur as she stumbles away from him.

To say, they are only a few feet away, but miles lie between their hearts.

And Mae doesn’t understand when things started going downhill, but now things have crashed.

In an hour, the wedding bells ring. The guests are peacefully seated, and she stands at the corner, barely managing to suppress her sadness.

The bride walks in, dressed in a beautiful white dress, holding her father’s hand. Ivan stands at the other end, with a smile on his face.

And Mae watches them exchange vows wistfully,

The union of two souls. The most beautiful of moments unfold in front of her. Everything is here, flowers, grand decorations, elaborate palanquins. But her lover isn’t. Her lover has left her disappointed.

Often she dreamt of her marriage with Levi as well. With him looking as charismatic as ever in a black coat and the cravat that she stitched for him, a testament of where they once were and how much they've been through. Together.

But now she doesn’t even know of their future 2 days from now.

They’ve lost each other even whilst walking together.

The wedding ends, the bride and groom kiss. The guests clap, showering the newly weds with appreciation. And then Ivan and his now wife walk away hand in hand.

In the corner, Mae sees Mr.Mendes as well. He watches everything with an unreadable look on his face.

Slowly the guests start leaving as well, after exchanging their pleasantries. The field starts becoming vacant. But Mae remains unmoving. The heaviness in her heart is unsettling.

The sun sets, and the sky turns navy. Darkness takes over. And she feels so alone, when she looks at the stretches of land with no one but her.

Far in the distance, the lights in the mansion burn bright. And its glass windows shine golden due the warmth that illuminates from inside.

They must be really happy, Mae concludes as she walks towards the altar. Her back finds one of the four pillars, and she slumps down to the floor. Eyes struck at the podium, where the priest read the holy vows.

Everything around only makes her doubt everything she had with Levi.

The ache in her heart never lessens. And she sulks, silently fuming in the aftermath.

She tried coming close to him, but the distances between them never lessened. She tried to be the bigger person, always but things never got better.

She questions everything. His words, his actions. And the moments between them felt so genuine.

Their bond was so healthy, so strong. They had each other’s back through the toughest times. He was the closest thing she had to a family. And she thinks about how much they could have grown together if he simply tried.

But he never cared to begin with. He was only acting out of pity.

It starts to rain, an untimely rain. And tears slip past her eyes too. She feels like she’s been trying to keep them in forever.

Cold wind blows towards her, and she shivers, unused to the harsh winter of Mitras. Hours pass by awfully slow. But she doesn’t go back to the hotel. She doesn’t want to meet the person who’s caused her so much anguish.

Footsteps echo off the marble floor.

Ivan walks in visibly disturbed too. Partially drenched in the rain.

“Mae…” his voice trails off, a little surprised to see her sitting at the altar, hours after the wedding “What are you doing here?... Do you not have a room to go back to?”

The question hurts. “I’m not THAT poor. Ivan.” she snaps. “I’m just here because I don’t want to see Levi right now.”

“Oh,” Ivan sighs. Not knowing whether he should pry any further. And he too drops down on the pillar adjacent to hers. Tired.

“You love him a little too much don’t you?”

And Mae sighs, another tear slipping past her eyes at his words. “Yeah, that seems to be my biggest problem.“ She hugs herself closer, attempting to warm herself in the cold. “I love him so much, it hurts.”

The downpour drowns out the silences. But it does very little to drown the sorrow in the air.

And Mae looks up at Ivan curious. Tiredness weighs heavy on his eyes. It’s the night of his wedding. And yet he’s here sitting alone.

“Did you consummate the marriage?” The question leaves her mouth, thoughtlessly. It’s way too blunt, but none of them have the energy for formalities.

“Yeah… it was… fine,” he speaks slowly, hesitating. “I can already tell, this marriage isn’t going to be good.” And then he sighs, exhausted, as he cards his fingers through his hair.

Silence settles, the wind blows. And the both of them suffer in the cold, not wanting to return to the warmth of a home.

A sad smile forms on Mae’s face. She’s felt so awfully lonely the past few days. Sometimes, even when Levi is right next to her. “Well, if it makes you feel better, my relationship isn’t going great either.”

And Ivan’s eyes widen. “Why do you say that?” he asks, genuinely concerned. Because he’s seen Levi and Mae, he thought they’d be the type of couple that would never break apart.

“Where do I even start,” she bitterly chuckles. “Look at him…He doesn’t even come to check up on me, Ivan. It’s so cold, and I’ve been missing for hours, shivering in the rain. I'm the one who has a reason to be upset. And yet I’m the one who’s still wondering why he isn’t coming to me? He hardly has any time for me…It’s always like this with him, so painfully one sided. I doubt he’d shed even a single tear, if I end up dying one day...”

And Ivan doesn;t know what to say. It’s not like he’s some relationship expert anyway.

Hell, this marriage is his first romantic relationship ever.

And so he sits quiet, dwelling on his own inexperience. And the silence only forces Mae to relive all the things that never happened in her and Levi’s relationship.

“I think I should end it.” The thought has been bogging her for weeks now. And now she’s hit her limit. “He doesn’t love me Ivan,” her voice breaks, and she sniffs to hold her tears back. “He doesn’t lov-”

“Oh shut up!” Ivan huffs, cutting her off. Because even though he is unsure of relationships and everything happening in his life as well, he knows that Levi loves Mae. It’s the only thing he’s sure of, at this point in his life.

“Are you fucking blind? Do you even see the way he looks at you?...” He grumbles almost frustrated with Mae’s blabbering. “I’ve always been so scared of him, but when he looks at you, his lips quirk up, just a little bit. And his eyes soften, as if the most precious thing in the world is now in front of him…. When he looks at you, he looks human… So what shit are you going on about?... And you haven’t even felt the intensity of his stare, anytime I walk next to you. I face it, I face the looks he throws at me. Sometimes it's a surprise that I’m not dead already.”

“Then why doesn’t he do anything about it?’ Mae’s head begins to hurt, and frustration lays heavy in every word she spouts out. “It's been three months, Ivan. Goddamn three months and we haven’t even kissed, or held hands, or been on a date… Yesterday I asked him to sleep on the bed next to me and he slept on the chair instead.”

“But Mae?” Ivan rebuttals almost innocently. “If I'd be in a relationship with a girl I really liked, I think I’d be like that too… Extremely hesitant and shy.” he answers truthfully. “And if he doesn’t make time for you, then why is he here to attend my wedding?”

All the loopholes in her thinking slowly start to resurface. And she frowns, her nose flaring. “He does make time for… it’s just that nothing even remotely romantic ever happens in that time?”

“So why don’t you tell him how you feel? What use is complaining about all this to me, when only Levi can give you what you need?”

A quiet gasp escapes Mae’s lips. And Ivan’s questions only force her to ponder over her own insecurities.

She’s always felt like the second choice. With Mr. Mendes, sometimes also with Levi.

And so she always tries to be on her best behavior, even when the other person is being intolerable.

“I don’t know, don’t wanna be a burden.” Her voice frays, and she’s grateful that it's the middle of the night and Ivan can’t see the pure destruction on her face, when she battles her own demons. “I feel like if I ever complain, then people will get annoyed by me and wouldn’t want to stick around anymore.”

“That’s not how relationships work, Mae…” Ivan mutters solemnly. “ This rushed marriage… I never wanted it. But how could I not listen to my dying father’s wish? The father who has done so much for me?...Sometimes he still dreams of you and the perfect family he envisioned with you.”

“Did I really upset him by saying no?”

“That's okay, you can’t make everyone happy... Old age has made him childish. But that doesn’t mean I abandon him. Nor does it diminish the value of all the good times I’ve spent with him.”

Ivan speaks the truth, it lays heavy on Mae;s mind. And slowly her flaws come to light as well.

“How did Mr.Mendes know about Levi’s past?” She changes the topic.

“He told me to ask around back when I worked in the Corps… Obviously I noticed the guy you would stare at with such dreamy eyes, I would be blind to not notice… And when I told father about it, he called you for lunch too often. Then your health got worse and he told me to look into it… Almost everyone in the Survey Corps knew that he was an underground thug, how did you not know?”

“Levi is a private person. I didn’t want to pry. I thought he’d tell me himself, when he felt comfortable.”

Mae’s eyes turn moist again, there’s an ever growing tightness in her throat that makes it harder for her to speak. “I can’t believe I dreamt so much of this... I thought we’d be perfect for each other, but look at me now... And look at you Ivan. you and your bride looked perfect as you walked hand in hand…. You got exactly what I dreamt of, whilst I sit here, crying, with the remnants of my broken love life.”

The rain becomes harsher, almost turning to a storm. And a bittersweet smile forms on Ivan’s face, as he ponders over Mae’s words.

“Yeah… Me and my wife are complete in every sense. She’s pretty and I have a well-earning job and a reputable career. Our future is secure here in Mitras, and we have both time and money, we’ll never run short of… And yet, despite all the time we have, we don’t wish to spend it with each other. We speak, but not with our heart. We are bound, but not by love.”

And when Mae looks up at Ivan, she sees the same pain reflect in his eyes, that she saw when he lost his mother. The pain of loss and unhappiness. “We are complete in every sense. We have everything that one needs to be happy. But our love…. Our love is incomplete…”

And a final tear slips past her eyes as Ivan continues. “ You and Levi might not have anything compared to us, but your love is complete.”

This is one of my favourite chapters in this arc, because of all the drama that goes on.

In the previous chapters I felt like it was just Levi and Mae, and everything was revolving around them, so I thought it was becoming kind of monotonous and boring. Which is why I've tried to add more characters this time.

Also I hope no one is surprised by the fact that Mae didn't know about Levi's past yet. (I think that was one of the main reasons for their misunderstandings, because she didn't know of his background yet)

(If anyone is wondering, then Mae will start talking things out with Levi after this, as she is slowly realizing her faults as well.)

So yeah! I'm excited to hear your thoughts, opinions, feedbacks. As always I'm open to criticism as well. (don't be shy lol)

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

I'll see you soon with chapter 20!

Taglist: @keijikunn @evas-leslas @leviackermanmyhero245 (message me if you want to be added)

[ceriiddynnhw]

Reflections from May 2024

Diary Entry: Thursday 30th May 2024 It annoys me that I have to write something like this to get my 445 words so that I can keep my streak up. Mostly, I annoy myself. I should have done some writing this morning but I didn't end up sleeping until 2, maybe 3 am so getting up at 6 was always going to be a struggle. I'd like to say I could blame it on my cycle (which I hate) or something else, but I suspect the erratic sleeping over the past few days has more to do with an underlying stress issue. Work? Probably. Anyway, it leaves me here journalling for four hundred words. Is there anything inherently wrong with this? Probably not other than I don't do journalling and it annoys me that I haven't wanted to force myself to write for the last few days. I've been quite impressed with the stuff with Sallow as well. I think I don't want to look at cutting out chapters. That might be my big issue. Yet, I think it probably does have to be done. I worry that the book is too slow in some senses, though I've written it in a way that makes sense to me. Currently, I'm looking at around 200,000 words which is 80,000 too long. There are big chunks of it that can be hacked out but equally, there are bits of it that I feel definitely have to stay. It has evolved a lot over the past two to three years, fair play. And the main thing to celebrate is that it's got past the complete first draft at all. I find myself now wanting to play with the characters - Worldbuilder disease? — and really feeling like I need to be reading more, especially around the grammar and construction conventions. But then I worry that I'm not spending my time writing and end up in that strange spiral which never even seems to close so you don't have the finality of closure even through the continuous contractions. Anyways, I'm going to try and do something productive for the last 100 words and 13 minutes and fill in some more character bios. 

See, I can't remember being in this space. I saw the date that said 'May' and thought, what the hell was I doing in May? What was I writing in May? Where? 

The length of time doesn't bother me so much any more. And that is a lie - of course it bothers me, but I'm trying to learn how not to let that grip me as fear. 

Do we always write as though we're not going to wake up tomorrow? Is there always a latent fear that we're going to get so far in this thing we're doing and then never get to see the finish line? 

Shit.

Is this because I'm forty next year? 

Balls. 

[iamjaynaemarie]

You know, if I had to tell everyone what happened to me, it would be another book all together, and right now I have my hands full with books. I am so busy now that I have just been told to give up my dreams PhD work and just concentrate on writing books.

First things first: @tkwrtrilogy3 is back. First of all there will be a crash course on what the new people that showed up missed. That begins tomorrow the writing begins October 7 as you can see by the lovely illustration above.

So much to do and so much time to do it. Considering this book is a trilogy, and it has an extra three books attached to it, I’ll probably be writing this one until I’m 70. I just turned 50 so that tells you a lot. OK, so I write fast. Maybe 65. Be grateful. Oh. It is already twice as long than the entire first season of Rings of Power (probably longer).

Next: The New King in Town @lesecretdelamaisondubourbon So, you probably missed it. Not only am I Thranduil, I am also Louis XIV currently. I will be his Daddy, too.

You don’t wanna know. Well maybe you do. Let’s just say I have extensively covered his love life and survey says: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

If you were ever on my Instagram, you would know there’s a new lady in town for His Majesty Louis XIV. and none of you know who she is because she’s new to a degree. Anyway, let’s just say they had fun (and will continue to have fun. However, if you are reading the book on Tumblr, Louis is still a baby. I had to jump ahead for theme reason on Instagram and I’m afraid if you go over there you’ll want him to grow faster. I would also like to tell everybody that his brother Philippe he has a story to tell.

 Oh, does Monsieur have a story to tell. That belongs to my co-author, @fortunatelyclevercandy. As they say, true friendship never expires. Don’t worry you’ll like it I’ve already read some of the story and it’s: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Oh, right. The Secret of the House of Bourbon is also a trilogy. I write trilogies. Why? Because I’d like to write. A lot. I also read as much as I write. And sometimes in French. HOB (as we call it) covers 196 years of the House of Bourbon. I wanted to start with Louis XIII, but my co-author loves her some Philippe, so to stay consistent, I headed over to Louis XIV. That was probably the absolute best decision I ever made in my life and I suck at making decisions. I really suck at making decisions. I try my best not to make any of them. So, like I always do, I ended up beginning a story in the middle. I am in Book III and it is all about Louis XIV. Yes, there are women. More than you can imagine but not as many as his grandfather Henri IV. There is no one earth who can have that many women except for his grandfather Henri IV. Oh, and by the way, this is not fanfiction based on anything like a television show perhaps. This is all about the history and the history is wilder than the television show. How wild? Let’s just say somebody made me go through 500 pictures of one poem before they decided OK, this doesn’t have to be a PG-13 novel. 😑 I mean it doesn’t have to be like Tolkien. We are grownups. I think we’re grown ups. Well, she might be more than I am. But we’re definitely grownups. So anyway this is a grown-up book about grown-ups just happened to start as children before they become grown-ups. In 17th-century France. Yeah. Did you know Louis was born with two teeth? 🦷

We are adults. Fun fact: My birthday is September 4. The day before Louis XIV. Ain’t that a kick in the head?

So, I guess this is it. I guess I am coming back. It’ll take a while to get used to being back after such a Trumatic experience I went through, but I’m happy to be back to doing what I love. Writing. Oh, one more thing:

Hee hee 😛 So, I guess we’re back. 😉 For me, there’s no place like the throne.

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!!  As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

-

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

-

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

[yeetwinchester2]

The Son He Never Got...

Pairing: Steve Rogers x daughter!reader, Bucky Barnes x Rogers!reader (platonic), Peter is there but no real relationship between the reader and him.

Warnings: abandonment-ish??, ✨daddy issues✨, angst, more angst, thoughts of not being good enough, blah blah blah, I think you get it. steve's not really the good guy here. Bucky fluff

Requested: yes/no "Prompts 1, 2, 13 and 14 with Steve Rogers x daughter!reader" #1: "Why would you do that?” #2: “I can’t believe it...” #13: “I hate you.” #14: “Go to Hell.” I don't think I included all of the quotes that were requested... but they'll be there in the next part or two.

Summary: When a boy named Peter Parker shows up as a new recruit, Steve starts spending more time with him. The reader notices, but Steve doesn’t. Bucky is helpful :)

A/N: Thank you for the request!! This is (maybe) the second request that I’ve actually completed :) I hope it's alright!!

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Turning off your alarm, you get out of bed and get dressed for school. Today you were supposed to have a father-daughter date with your dad after school. You decided to wear a plain black flowy shirt, a pair of skinny jeans, and your white Doc Martens.

Throwing you backpack over your shoulder, you head down to the kitchen to get some breakfast and tell everyone good morning before you leave for school. "Mornin' everybody! Hey, dad. Did you pick out where we're going today?" you say with a toothy smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. What're we going out for, again?" he sounded confused, but you just ignored it.

"For our father-daughter date, dummy." you said, jokingly punching his arm. Not that it'd hurt him. He's a super soldier for crying out loud.

"Oh, yeah. About that... We're gonna have to reschedule our dinner tonight, hun. We can do it another night. The team and I are going to meet the new recruit tonight. You should meet him too!" he was rubbing the back of his neck, hoping that you wouldn't be too upset.

"But we've always had our dates on the first Friday of every month. We can't just skip this month!" He's not seriously going to reschedule dinner because of a new recruit... he wouldn't do that to you, right?

"I know, I know. Can we please just have dinner another night? This new recruit could be some serious help for the team."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. I've got to get to school. I'll see ya when I get back." He's seriously gonna choose the recruit over me, his own daughter? No, maybe it's just more important than I realize.

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

"Y/n, its probably nothing. Maybe he just needs to talk to some new people. Being stuck in ice for 70 years and all, he doesn't have many friends," your friend, Milo, tries to reason.

"The recruit is my age. He's a highs schooler. My dad isn't gonna make friends with some high schooler. I don't know. I guess we'll just wait and see." It's nothing, he needs to get to know the recruit anyways...

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

After a long and tiring day at school, you get home to see you dad and the new recruit going over what you're guessing is paper work.

"Hey, dad. Hey, new recruit. It's nice to meet you, I'm y/n." you say, holding a hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Parker Peter. I-i-i mean, Peter Parker." he says with a wide smile. You can see his cheeks become a little more red.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Peter. How long do you think you'll be staying tonight? I can't have you stealing my dad from me already!" you say, jokingly. The three of you let out a short laugh.

"I'm not sure. I guess I'll leave once I've gotten the tour and we've gone through all of the paper work." Peter says. Why does he need a tour? He's only here to train, right?

"Sounds good! I'll be in my room if y'all need anything." you say, adding a fake smile. Turning around, you head to your room. The rest of the night, you do nothing but homework, completely forgetting about Peter.

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

The next few days consisted of the same exact thing. You'd eat breakfast, go to school, come home and greet your dad and Peter, and go do homework. Had your dad asked you how your day was during the few days? Not once. Had he asked Peter how his day was? Yep. Did your dad ask if you needed help with homework? Nope. Did he ask Peter? Of course he did. Every day. I can't believe it... Is my dad replacing me with Peter? No, he's just helping him out, right? Right.

The next day was Wednesday, which meant you got to workout with your dad and Peter. 'Oh boy. I get to train with two abnormally strong superheros. Yay.' you thought sarcasticly. You went about your day as you usually do. On the way home from school, you texted your dad to let him know you might be a little late because of traffic. You When you got home, you changed into workout leggings and a sports bra, and headed to the gym where you usually meet your dad for workouts. You then realized that your dad hadn't texted you back. When you walk into the gym, you figured out why. Him and Peter were already halfway through the workout that y'all were supposed to be doing together.

At this point, you're starting to realize that your dad is actually replacing you with Peter. Peter's like the son he never got. He's been pushing you and the plans you've made to the side. He's been making Peter his priority.

Walking up to the two sweaty guys, tapping them on the shoulders to get their attention. "Peter, I hate you. No offense though. It's not your fault. Dad, can I talk to you? In private, please?" You do hate Peter, but not because he did anything wrong. He didn't. He's a real good kid. But he's you dad's favorite now. He replaced you, but he didn't know it. So, by default, you hate Peter.

"Hey! Don't talk to Peter like that! He didn't do anything wrong. You can't just walk in here and tell him you hate him. That's not how it works," he practically yells. Your dad never yells at you. The harsh reaction cause tears to swell up in your eyes.

"Dad. I need to talk to you. In private. Away from Peter."

"It can wait. Let us finish what we were doing. Then, we can talk. Got it?" he said sternly.

"Yes sir." you say, holding back tears that you knew would fall as soon as you turn around. And you were right. As soon as you turned around to go to your room, the tears fell, and they wouldn't stop. It only got worse when you got to your room. Forgetting to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to soundproof your room, you continue sobbing, yelling every now and again. Bucky, in the room next to yours, heard your crying.

Bucky was always there for you. He had been since the day he met you. His face when he found out Steve, THE Steven Grant Rogers, had a daughter. You and him have been close ever since. He's more like a best friend than an uncle if you're being honest. You go to him for everything. Well, almost anything. You hadn't told him about what was going on with you and your dad. You knew he'd be pissed about how your dad was treating you and go argue with him about it. You didn't want to make a big deal of it or anything at first, in case it was nothing.

Bucky, hearing you crying, run out of his room and to your door, softly knocking on it. "Y/n? Hun? Can you please let me in? It's Bucky."

You slowly stand up and walk towards the door, opening it. Looking up at him, with red eyes and mascara running down your checks, you move back to the bed. Bucky closes the door and sits next to you. "You wanna talk about it?" That's always the first question either if you ask when one of you is in this kinda situation.

"I don't know. I don't know, Buck." You lean into his shoulder, crying again.

"That's okay. Take your time, y/n/n. I'll be right back." he says, standing up from the bed. You see him walk into your bathroom, knowing exactly what he's doing. The two of you have a good routine for these kinda nights. It's usually always the same, but it works. When you're crying like you are now, you get horrible headaches. So, Bucky will always get you some ibuprofen and water to help. When he gets back from the bathroom, he hands you a two small pills and a glass a water. Without a second thought, you swallow the pills and some of the water. You thank him and set the glass on your nightstand. Pulling the covers up over your shoulders, you lay back down.

"Thank you.."

"Mhm. Are you gonna sleep first? Or talk? You know we're gonna talk about it at some point."

"I know, I know. Can I sleep right now? We can talk about it another time. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, of course. But you're not getting out of it, and I'm not giving you the whole 'Its not healthy to keep it all in' lecture. You've heard it enough, so have I."

"Thanks. Mucho appreciated, old man."

"No problem, kiddo. Get some rest, we'll talk tomorrow. 'Night, sweetheart."

"Night, Buck."

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

A/N: Cool. This is part one of this. Yes, I will (eventually) finish part two of Excuses. I have no idea when, but eventually. Same goes for part two of this one. But I really like this first part, so I think it'll continue. Thoughts? I hope y'all like it :))

[axoxtxhxh]

Promise Me - Chapter 13 - Cheese, Books, and Sex

ArminxFem!Reader Summary: Armin and Reader celebrate Armin’s birthday alone. Content: Penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), sort of masturbation Word Count: ~ 3,200

A/N: Getting close to the final chapter guys! I just want to say thank you for following along on this one! This story really meant a lot to me because of the new characters I brought in and the little world I created for Armin and Reader on the vineyard. I am going to try to get the last chapter out next week sometime. Thank you for all the feedback! I really appreciate all the love for this story! <3

After a long day, you were finally making it back to your room. It wasn’t even a full day of work, but it certainly felt like it. It was the second of November. Armin’s birthday was the following day and you were terrible at giving gifts so you made sure he at least got today and tomorrow off from his duties. You were only able to get his actual birthday off and today was a half day. Unfortunately, you had to squeeze a full day of work into the half day and now you were exhausted.

You opened the door to your room, not really sure what you were expecting to see, but you had a pretty good idea. Armin was still in his pajamas on the bed, resting on his stomach with a book in front of him and he looked up as you walked in.

“Is this the same one you were reading this morning?” You smiled, taking off your jacket and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off your boots.

“I switched to another one. This one is about the history of Francisco’s country.” He helped you take off your tie and unbuttoned your shirt. “There’s so many people in the world we don’t even know about. It’s amazing!”

You could only smile at his excitement while he spoke. It never made any sense to you how he could sit and read all day. You hated reading, but Armin lived for it.

“Are you going to take a bath?” He hung your shirt up in the closet next to his uniform and came back to the bed.

“I think so.” You rubbed your neck, twisting your head to stretch it out, and stood up to move to the bathroom. “I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t rush.” Armin’s face was already buried in the book again and it made you laugh. Slipping into the hot water in the tub made you instantly relax and you sighed.

It was a couple days until your one-month trial period of Paradis was up. Things had certainly settled down in the last couple weeks like you knew they would. It helped a lot once Armin moved into your bedroom. Sleeping without him was nearly impossible and you refused to continue trying. Hange had no issues with Armin moving in, in fact, there was a shortage on rooms anyway so it only helped everything out.

Honestly, once people found out about you and Armin, it was almost expected that he would move into your room, at least that’s the impression you got when you asked. It wasn’t necessary for everyone to accommodate the two of you, but they did. Each time Armin had to be in another city, you were sent there as well. Each time you had a shift at the harbor, Armin also came. Surprisingly, things were actually going well and while you both still talked about visiting Francisco, it wasn’t as bad as when you first arrived back.

Reluctantly, you stood up from the bath and grabbed your towel, drying yourself off. You probably could have stayed in there all night. Each time you stepped into a bath on Paradis, you were reminded of the showers back on the vineyard. Armin definitely missed the shower in the barn and you had to admit, you did too. There was nothing quite as refreshing as taking a shower after work.

You smiled as you wrapped the towel around your body and went back into the bedroom to sit on the bed.

There wasn’t a lot you could do for Armin’s birthday, but you had been planning it for a little while. You spent a good few weeks searching for someone who could make cheesecake, but came up empty. There were three things Armin loved, cheese, books, and sex. If you couldn’t get the cheese, you at least had books and sex.

There was a bookstore you found while working that you were sure Armin hadn’t seen yet and one day you snuck out to try and find something you thought he hadn’t read yet. As for the sex, you were lotioning up your legs and getting yourself ready for the night you had planned.

“Can I help you with that?” Armin closed his book and kneeled behind you on the bed, scooping some lotion onto his hands and massaging it into your shoulders and neck.

“That feels nice.” You groaned, letting your eyes close as he worked the lotion in. “Who knew sitting at a desk would be more painful than working on a vineyard?”

“Maybe you should take breaks and walk around your office.” He lowered your towel a bit as went over your shoulder blades.

“I barely even have time for bathroom breaks.” You laughed. “There’s no way I will be able to get up and walk around. Plus, I like making sure I have time for us to eat lunch together.”

You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could look up at him. He was smiling and it made you happy seeing him like that. A small part of you was actually worried that you wouldn’t see that smile again unless you went back to the vineyard. Then one day, you were both in bed and you couldn’t even remember what it was you were talking about, but Armin started laughing, belly busting laughing, and from there you knew things would be okay.

“Well if you’re not going to take care of yourself, let me do it.” Armin complained, his lips against your neck. You were fully lotioned up at that point, but he continued massaging your shoulders, making sure to hit all the spots in your neck that were stiff.

“Armin, you don’t have to do this.” You leaned your head forward giving him more room to work and he laughed a little.

“Who said anything about having to do it. I want to.” You honestly couldn’t argue with him. It felt so good having his hands on your shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles and loosening up the knots that built up. “Does that feel good?”

“So good.” You nodded. Armin smiled and continued his massage, lowering his hands. He kept one on your shoulder for support and the other one moved to your lower back, working under your shoulder blade. Your body felt like jelly and you were barely able to hold yourself in a sitting position.

“This lotion smells really good.” Armin’s hands continued their kneading, but he dropped his nose to your neck, breathing in. “It doesn’t smell like your usual one.”

“It’s new.” You smiled. “I thought you might like it.”

“I do.” His lips pressed gently against the skin of your shoulder, tracing a trail of kisses up to your hairline. Each kiss he gave you, his hands slowly stopped their massage until eventually they just rested on your waist.

“Armin.” You breathed as you tilted your head to the side, his tongue coming out to move over your skin. “That feels good.”

He lowered himself a little, one of his hands resting on your bare thigh as he continued his open-mouth kisses along your neckline. This wasn’t part of the plan. Your plan was to lotion yourself, change and spend time reading with Armin until it was time to eat dinner. Then after you both had eaten, you would come back to your room for sex.

His hand was gripping your thigh tightly and you dropped your head back to rest on his shoulder, your back against his chest, giving him more of your neck.

“Armin,” you whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear yourself. You were hot, your stomach was boiling and each inch Armin’s hand moved up your thigh, it had you breathing faster, your breaths shallow.

You weren’t even sure when his other hand slipped under the towel, resting firmly against your stomach as his tongue swirled circles on your neck. As he brought the hand on your thigh to your knee, you moved your hand to his hair, lightly grabbing a fistful and he separated your knees.

It all felt too good and you leaned back into him more, scooting your butt slightly off the bed. His lips were right next to your ear and you could hear him sigh, a deep rumble hidden in his throat, as his fingers traced along the lines of your folds.

“Armin…” You turned your head to see him and he brought his lips to yours quickly, taking a deep kiss and making it deeper. This was not part of the plan, but you didn’t want to stop. His tongue moved into your mouth and you completely lost any desire to stick to the plan.

He pulled open your towel, removing it from between you both and setting it on the bed. You could feel the heat from his bare chest against your back and you wondered when it was he took his shirt off. It didn’t matter though because quickly after the towel was gone, his hand was cupping your breast, massaging it in his hand as his fingers worked over the nipple.

You were falling harder against him and moaning breathlessly, barely able to control yourself as his other hand started slowly playing with your clit. It was amazing how he already had you coming undone.

The louder your moans got the firmer you felt Armin’s erection pressing against your back and you took your hand from his hair, reaching behind you to grip it gently through his pants. He whined into your ear and you reached around, trying to get his pants out of the way so you could stroke his length and he helped by thrusting into your hands.

He was still rubbing his fingers over your clit when he slipped the same fingers back, pushing through your entrance and he moaned into your ear.

“I need you, Y/N.” He thrusted his fingers lightly as he tried to lift your body up to sit in his lap.

“Armin, wait, it’s your birthday. We were supposed—I had a plan.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He spoke in your ear and you could feel his smile. “I won’t make it through any plan. I really just need you.”

You nodded as he pulled his fingers out and you inhaled quickly at the empty feeling inside you. Armin slid his legs forward, moving to the edge of the bed and you sat down on his lap.

“Wait, wait, let me…” He lined up his erection, holding your hip and pulling you back down as he slid inside of you with a groan.

Your back was resting against his chest and you honestly couldn’t figure out why were you so turned on. It was a long day at work but you could barely keep your eyes open as Armin kissed along your shoulder, his hands exploring your body until they eventually rested on your chest again.

“I’m sorry, Armin.” Your body shook as he pinched your nipple. “I think I’m just a lot more tired than I thought.”

“It’s okay.” He relished the moan he pulled from you as his tongue moved over your neck. “Let me do this.”

He held your waist as he began thrusting lightly up into you. It really wasn’t often that you let him have control. It wasn’t that he minded it. On the contrary, anything that made you happy, he was okay with, but this was a different feeling. He was the one who got to make you feel good now and he could feel himself getting hot just thinking about it.

Armin needed to be careful now though. As much as he wanted to come, how desperate he was already to reach his orgasm, he needed to hold off. The longer he could last, the more time he had with you. You were already moaning, your body leaning back onto him, but he knew that he could help you along by moving his hand between your legs and that’s what he did. He drew small circles around your clit until you were moaning louder, gripping his thigh tightly.

“Faster.” You breathed, lifting your body up a little as he continued his thrusting. He leaned back a little, thrusting harder and speeding up the movements of his fingers while doing his best not to reach his own orgasm.

“You feel good.” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He could tell you were close though. The way your head was dropping down, the way you were gripping his thigh, the breathiness of your moans. He waited until he saw that quick snap in your body as your movements froze. Your body tensed over him as you cried out and he slowed his thrusting, grabbing onto your waist so you wouldn’t fall forward onto the floor.

Armin tried to catch his breath as he continued his slow circles over your clit, letting you come down slowly. You hated being overstimulated, but you always told him when it was too much and when you gently grabbed his wrist, he pulled his hands away, resting his forehead on your back until he caught his breath.

You were exhausted and you hated yourself for it. It wasn’t like you didn’t know this day was coming, you had been preparing for it. So why now? Why when you wanted nothing more than to spend time with Armin, to make him feel good, did you feel so drained?

Armin lifted you off of him and laid you down on the bed, setting you down on your back and moving between your legs, his lips already on your inner thigh.

“Damn it, Armin.” You looked down at him. “I’m supposed to be doing this for you.”

“I’m enjoying myself.” His tongue moved closer to the crease of your thigh.

“But your birthday.”

“You think I don’t love doing this?” He sat up and looked at you. “This is the best birthday present you could give me. There’s plenty of time for me later. Let me give you this.”

Literally the most amazing person you had ever met sat in front of you and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was good. Too good. Always so good to you and you couldn’t even hate him for it because you loved him so much. His smiled widened as he looked at you, knowing he won. Normally you didn’t give in so easily, but for Armin, you gave him whatever he wanted.

“Fine, but tomorrow you’re mine.” You laid your head back down.

“I look forward to it.” He chuckled quietly, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. “You ready for more?”

“I think so.”

Armin started with his hand, caressing the inside of your thigh and then over your stomach before going back to your clit, checking your reaction. Seeing you didn’t flinch, he dove in with his mouth.

You honestly couldn’t understand the appeal of oral. Not that you didn’t like it, but Armin was always wanting to do it. You weren’t complaining, you just didn’t understand it. Maybe it was a confidence thing and he knew he did it well so he enjoyed doing it, but you could count on one hand the number of times you had sex with him where he wasn’t going down on you.

Even when you were trying to quickly squeeze something in before a meeting or during lunch, he’d either be under your desk or you’d find some closet somewhere you could both fit where he would be between your legs while his hand stroked himself. You looked down and smiled as his hands moved from holding your legs to stroking his erection back to holding your legs.

This was another reason you wanted to do something for his birthday. You had never been in a relationship where you were always the one getting the better end of the deal. Though Armin would argue that he was getting the better end and that honestly just made you love him more.

You were having trouble focusing on your thoughts as your pending orgasm built further in your body and you reached down to grab Armin’s hair, pulling a moan from him. Your body could barely take it anymore and your hips started bucking forward. Armin moved his mouth faster and harder over you, knowing you were close to release.

Finally, the cord in your stomach snapped and your back arched, pushing your head further into your pillow as you tried to cry out Armin’s name, but it could only come out in a whisper. You closed your eyes as your body tensed and you waited as the overwhelming pleasure ran through you.

Armin slowed down his movements as you started panting for air and he gradually made his way back up your body, his mouth tracing a path from your hip to your shoulder until he reached your lips and you pulled him into you.

“You’re amazing.” He whispered into your jaw.

“For what?” You laughed. “Lying here and doing nothing? You’re the amazing one.”

You grabbed his face and made him look at you and he smiled, bringing his lips down to yours. At least that’s what you thought he was doing. Instead he leaned in and kissed your nose and you’ve literally never felt your heart swell as quickly as it did in that moment.

“What the fuck, Armin?” You grabbed his face again, kissing his cheeks roughly. “How the hell are you this fucking cute?”

“Hey… hey…” He pulled away from your cheek kisses, laughing. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am. You’re right. You’re right. You just give me energy.” You laughed, bringing your hands down from his face and wrapping your legs around him. “I’m ready. Fuck me. I’m ready.”

Armin laughed at you and seeing that smile on his face made you so happy. He really was amazing because you never thought you could ever love anything as much as you loved him.

He leaned down, still smiling, and kissed you. You opened your mouth for him and at that point, everything started moving quickly. Armin’s hand reached under your back as he thrusted into you, groaning as he sped up. This was definitely all Armin, you weren’t going to come from this, but hearing his grunts and groans in your ear each time your hips connected, you were already in heaven and completely satisfied. He lifted your leg, hooking his arm under your knee as he tried to get himself to thrust deeper. Your heart was beating quickly as you heard him panting and whining as he got closer and closer to release.

“Oh m—I’m gonna come.” He thrusted wildly into you, his hand gripping the sheets next to the both of you and he dropped his face down to yours, your lips touching but barely kissing. He drove his hips into yours forcefully with one thrust and grunted as his body tensed. It was such a weird time to feel as much love for him as you did then, but it was overwhelming and even though you were both literally as close as two people could get, your bodies connected in the most intimate way, you needed to be closer to him and you grabbed his cheeks, smiling as you kissed him.

Taglist: @millenialfanfictionaddiction​

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[jobean12-blog]

Midnight at the Library: Chapter 2-It’s Not Trivial

Pairing: Bucky x reader (College/Librarian AU)

Word Count: 922

Summary: Bucky asks you to join him for a date night 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club Week of Love Challenge and day 2: First Date. Thanks so much for all the love on chapter 1. Really happy you guys are enjoying this and that everyone liked Professor Beck showing up! I couldn’t resist! Thank you all SO MUCH for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ My beautiful divider is by my love @imerdwarf

Warnings: Soft and fluffy fun, silly Science 

Series Masterlist

“Isn’t it a little late to be going to the library?” your roommate asks.

“Not for me. I like being there late at night. It’s less crowded and I get more done,” you tell her as you shove your laptop into your bag.

“So, it has nothing to do with the hot librarian that works the night shift?” she asks with a smirk.

“Who? Bucky?” You let out a loud raspberry and don’t even bother with more of an answer.

“I’ll see you later,” you say with a wave.

When you walk in he isn’t even at the desk and you start to smile. You hear the familiar creak of the bench at your favorite table and look over to see him sitting there.

“Hey you. Thanks for saving our seat,” you whisper, sitting next to him like always.

He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before handing you a cup of coffee, just how you like it.

“No problem. We’ve got some tough problems to tackle tonight,” he says with a groan.

It was the third time you were meeting this week and you were really hoping each one wouldn’t be the last.

“So um, I wanted to…” he starts. “What question should we…” you say at the same time.

Doing a poor job of containing your chuckles you dip you head and whisper, “you first.”

He brings his face close to yours and his eyes once again drift down to your lips.

“So, it’s trivia night tomorrow at the coffee shop and I was wondering if you wanted to be my partner,” he sort of mumbles, continuing quickly with, “maybe we could grab a bite and kick some ass. I think the topic is right up our alley.”

You tap him on the nose with your pencil, giggling when he grabs it and pulls it from your hand.

“That sounds great! I’d love to!” you exclaim, trying to not to let your excited voice echo across the tall ceilings.

“Ok great! It’s a date then,” he answers, immediately biting his lip before finishing with, “if that’s ok with you of course.”

“More than ok with me Bucky. I’m looking forward to it,” you say.

You study until almost 3 am and the both of you are too tired to see straight. Bucky’s shift ends in an hour, so you bid him farewell and head back to your apartment for some much-needed sleep.

Friday rolls around and you wait for Bucky, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around like crazy.

“You look nervous,” Nat, your roommate points out.

“Yea. I am. I don’t really know why though. We’ve been hanging out for over a week,” you say.

The knock on the door startles you from your thoughts and you give Nat a small smile before opening it and greeting Bucky with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

He takes your hand, and you start to walk the short distance to the coffee shop.

“So, I should probably warn you ahead of time,” he starts. “I’m really competitive and we have to win.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Is that so?” you ask with raised brows. “Thankfully so am I so let’s kick some ass!”

Once you’re both settled at your table with two drinks and a big bowl of nachos the game starts. The topic this week is Astronomy so you two feel pretty confident.

“I’m pretty sure Professor Beck is the only one who would like our team name,” you tease as you write ‘Schrodinger’s Cats’ on your score card.

“Hey! You agreed to it!,” Bucky laughs, throwing his arm around your shoulder.

You turn your face and nearly bump heads, your lips just a few inches apart as he leans in closer.

“Ok everybody, let’s get this game started!” the announcer cheers, breaking the spell.

Bucky gives you a lopsided grin. “Ready to win?” he asks.

The game is close, but you and Bucky manage to take the win. You walk home high on adrenaline and victory, your combined energy making you far too loud for the time of night it is.

“I think we should go back and kick everyone’s ass next week,” Bucky says with a grin.

You reach your door and start to fidget.

“That would be great. Thank you for inviting me. I had a really good time tonight,” you tell him.

“Me too. Will I see you this weekend? I’m working Sunday night,” he says, shuffling his feet.

“Definitely. I have Beck’s problem set due Monday, so I’ll need some help!” you inform him.

He takes a step forward and brushes his thumb along your cheek.

“Yea, of course. I’d love that,” he breathes out, inching a bit closer.

“Ok, good. You’re a really good study buddy,” you whisper, licking your lips.

His head tilts just as the first drop of rain hits you on the head.

“Hey!” you screech, flinching as several more heavy and cold drops start pelting you. “I didn’t know it was supposed to rain!”

“Me either,” Bucky shouts. “Shit. It’s really coming down.”

You open your front door and quickly grab an umbrella from the stand in the corner.

“Here, take this and run!” you say with a laugh. “Be careful!”

He pauses for a second looking like he might just kiss you anyway but instead opens the umbrella in a flourish and jogs down the steps. He walks backwards and blows you a kiss.

“I’ll see you Sunday!” he yells before running off.

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[pffbts]

↬genre: slice of life ; fluff ; comfort ; angst ; hint of soft romance!

↬characters: kim mingyu x reader | cameo: choi seungcheol

↬w.c: 1.5K

↬author`s note: tonight we`re back with mingyu. his one came from a very close personal spot in my heart. happy reading!! i love u all very much :)

↬synopsis: there are 13 boys who lives in your town where each of them have each of their own colors. some you know in person & some from afar so one day you sat down deciding to describe each of their colors absorbing all of their goodness and all of their flaws. you wondered what if someone in some other town ever thought of questioning when they looked at these boys, that―what if we lived in the same town?

☍ seungcheol | jeonghan | joshua | junhui | soonyoung | wonwoo | jihoon | seokmin | mingyu | minghao | seungkwan | vernon | chan

[15:45 PM] [some days you wondered if he could touch the sky, literally.]

―while the basketball court reminded the people of the town of him, for you it was the smell of home cooked meals that would defeat every restaurant`s delicacy.

it wasn`t like you never appreciated his sport skills or his math skills but most days you were just simply envious how easy mingyu makes things look like whenever he`s in the kitchen doing whatever he does.

your mother might have always nagged you saying how you will never be able to do half of the things that he does and she might be also the reason you hate him half-heartedly but at the same time you couldn`t help but admire his strong back when he cooks while you just join your and his mother at the dinner table.

every two or three months, both of your mothers who were friends since their own younger days would join at each one`s place during weekends to have some calm and quiet dinner with some occasional reminiscing of their old days while mingyu every time would secretly take an extra piece of chicken to place it on your plate.

and when your eyes will shoot up to meet with his own, you`ll catch him mouthing a, “eat up well.” with a small smile that reaches his eyes.

maybe he`s trying to make up for every time he never intentionally made you feel bad about yourself through your mother. he knew how she always compared you with him. that`s why during such weekends like giving some extra piece of meat or giving you a spoonful of broth when you`re standing next to him watching him cook, he would give some extra attentions to you without both of your mothers` knowledge so that when you walk back home, even if your mother picks another bone with you, you`ll always know that mingyu just simply loves cooking and caring for people he loves. he never does it out of a place where he wants to showcase.

most of your friends and people around you didn`t have much of the knowledge of the kind of relationship you had with mingyu because meeting him would be so random that you would be most of the time taken aback.

one of those days was that one night when you were walking back to your home from having a study session with your best friend at her place and you heard a familiar laughter from the other side of the road behind you.

looking over your shoulder, you saw none other than mingyu along with one of his closest buddy seungcheol, walking side by side and laughing to some things you didn`t quite hear.

you had your hood up over head so it was easy to hide by without grabbing his attention but before you could turn your head away and look straight ahead, mingyu, within that split second caught you with his eyes. you thought whether it was his inhumane speed in catching people with his eyes or his heartstrings vibrating with the sensation that one of his loved ones is close by and he needed to quickly find them in any way possible.

but what made you taken aback by all this and suddenly look straight ahead and just walk faster while pretending as if you never saw him didn`t ever cross your mind. you wonder what made you so nervous, it wasn`t like he was going to jump on you or something.

as you continued walking faster towards your home, mingyu called you out by your name in his softest voice and bid his friend a goodbye along with a, ‘i`ll see you tomorrow, man!’

everything happened within some few seconds―mingyu crossed the streets jogging, caught up to you and put his strong, protective arm around your shoulder hanging his palm politely in front of your chest without letting it touch you anyway while at the same time pulling you a little closer to his chest.

he had no business giving you this sudden free envelope of warmth during this cold night for no reason but you let him do what he wanted to do as long he`s just being that one good old friend of yours for a lifetime with whom you shared a single childhood polaroid picture sitting in each of your study desks.

but before you could say that it was completely unnecessary for him to walk with you by abandoning what seemed like a very interesting conversation with seungcheol some while ago, mingyu, in his very casual tone stated, ‘here, let me walk you home.’

and walk you home is what he did that night. he even stayed back to see you switching on the lights in your room and waved you a silent goodbye when you opened the window of your room to let the air pass inside. he had this dreamy look where his eyes looked like it was slightly wet and his soft bangs did their little dance on his forehead.

till to this day, you always wondered why he did that. was it out of selflessness that runs in him or was he really delighted to see you that night and decided to walk you back home as an excuse to spend some time with you?

till to this day, you`ve not figured this out but that night became one of those nights which never came back again into your life yet.

although there would be some instances where he would walk you back home when it would be dinner nights during both of your mothers` weekend days but your mother would always be there with you so things were always different.

so that was just one night when both of you were alone and the night air only acted as the background score by flowing through the trees and fluttering the leaves giving some escape to the silence that prevailed in-between both of you.

in-between some of these countable memorable incidents, both of you had some good share of eye contacts and nodding of heads when you would see him from the bleachers of the basketball court while he`s playing a game.

but that was it.

like it was said, your relationship with him was borderline formal. there wasn`t much intimacy and not much words were exchanged in-between both of you. at the end of the day, you were unsure how you would want him in your life because knowing mingyu gives you all sorts of options and conflicts at the same time.

if you gave him a little bit of a chance he would have accepted himself in any position in your life but you decided that you really didn`t have anything to give him back. his selflessness, his way of winning people`s heart without even trying, his familiarity and yet his charismatic way of putting people in a good mood was something you can never give him back.

the little you inside your head didn`t know how to perceive mingyu and you, yourself knew that you would never get to be alone with him like that night ever again so it`s better that you kept him at the friendship pedestal considering that has been the easiest lock to open all the time.

but you wished for that one person, who`d get to have him in his life from another town or this town to give their relationship with him a proper name and not be so conflicted with relationships in real life and where people stand in their life like yourself because you were definitely not something mingyu should be having in his life.

and it didn`t matter what he thought. because even if he thought something otherwise, you would still choose the easiest lock to open.

fin.