#five minutes in and he's getting dragged across the floor in a body bag

[pseudowho]

Link to Furry Little Problem (where you, Nanami Kento's wife, are turned into a cat for a week) here!

And, a link to @yuutaguro's exquisite art for Part One

It had been almost a week since you had turned back into a human, and Kento had seen most traces of the four-paws-and-sharp-claws Cat You, bleed away.

Most, at least; what concerned Kento, was that you weren't completely normal. He could overlook the way you would turn, and turn, and turn on the spot before settling onto the sofa. He could forgive the way you would spin on a pinhead, phantom ears pricked and still as the grave, at every little noise past the front door.

Kento drew the line, however, when you shot up from the dining table mid dinner conversation, to run headfirst into the patio doors with a thud. The sparrow that had landed just outside twittered, and flew away, as you sat, dazed. Kento buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, Nanami," Shoko had tutted, inviting you both into her office. "I'm sure it will just...just take, uh..."

You had been forced to pause at the door, to bat and chew at the loping leaves of her little pot plant. As Kento, ever patient and gentle, guided you with whispered reassurances away from the pot plant, and to the sofa, Shoko's clipboard drooped.

You dug your nails into the couch for a few seconds, pricking it all over, before sitting down in your seat with a satisfied little wiggle, and a smile.

Shoko's eyes flicked from you, to Kento, to you, and began, awkward.

"Let's...get a baseline, shall we? See how much of the cat still remains." Shoko reached behind her, rustling in a bag, before placing something long and green on the table before you. "I have a cucumb--"

You shot into the air like you were on springs, landing with a crash behind Shoko's sofa. The room was silent. Shoko's cigarette idly smoked in her ashtray. Kento buried his fingers into his hair, his elbows on his knees.

"Tell me...uh...tell me some of your experiences from the Cat Week, please, Nyanyami--"

Kento glared at Shoko.

The top of your head rose slowly up from behind the sofa, staring at the cucumber with an unhealthy amount of suspicion.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Stop that," Kento snapped at you, pausing the movie. You, toe-beaned and glossy and sweet, tilted your furry little head sideways. Kento could almost see the question mark over your head as you stared at him, unblinking and eerie.

The room was dark, save for the little lamp in the corner. The movie sat, inanimate. Kento felt a prickle up his spine; the shadows were thrown long and the room felt many-eyed and still. Kento stared you down. You stared Kento down. Kento narrowed his eyes. You tilted your head to the other side. A clock ticked.

"Meow," you said.

"I mean it," rumbled Kento, stern, "stop it."

You blinked, and chirped, and turned back to the movie. Kento breathed out a shaky sigh, and restarted it.

Five minutes later, Kento dropped the remote with a clatter, cursing.

"Stop staring behind me-- there's nothing behind me-- that's it, we're going to bed--"

Your unwavering gaze into the gloom behind Kento, was interrupted by him picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. You chirped in protest.

"Mew-- meooooow--"

"I warned you, stop being creepy. It's bedtime for you, madam."

"Meow."

"Yes, I'll rub your tummy, just stop doing the thing--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I'm recommending Ino for the initiative. I think it would be good experience for him, in his plan to progress to--to...darling, please--"

Kento's face on the computer screen was obscured first by furry little face, then a body that dragged hair across his chest, and finally a jaunty little tail, raised and flicking. The other Zoom call participants were silent as Kento lowered you to the floor, where you fizzled up at him in tiny irritation.

"I apologise," Kento sighed to awkward silence, "just my wife--"

Clatter-- clatter-- clack.

The screen flickered. The Zoom call expanded, and shrunk, and expanded, and shrunk, and finally ended. Kento leaned back in his chair, watching you settle on his keyboard. You batted at the mouse, until it landed with a sad little clatter onto the office floor.

You looked at Kento, all pink nose and innocence. Kento's eyes narrowed. He looked into your eyes, looking past the cat to the you within.

"...you know exactly what you're doing, don't you, you absolute terror--"

"Meow," you replied, rolling onto your back to keyboard clatter, and showing him your belly.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow--"

"--no, you listen to me-- you did that on purpose--"

"Mew--meow, mrrrrow--"

"--don't give me that, you always hated that tie-- awfully convenient--"

"Mew, mew, meow--"

The neighbour watched, slack-jawed and confused, as his neighbour argued with a cat over a brandished, shredded red tie.

What was stranger, was when the cat seemed to argue back. The neighbour's little pot plant overflowed, the watering can slack in his hand.

"--we shall have words when I'm home," Nanami clipped, handing the tie back to you with a glare. You took it in your teeth, imperious as you turned your furry little back to him.

And so began the rumour amongst the neighbours, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow."

You bopped your head against Kento's shin. Gojo watched the vein throb in his temple.

"Meow."

You bopped your head onto Kento again, brushing up against his legs, and brushing, and brushing, and bopping your head. Kento ignored you, utterly steadfast. Gojo gulped.

"Ah, Nanami, I...I think she's hungry--"

"--she is not hungry, she's only just eaten breakfast--"

"Meow," you said. You dragged a plate to your usual spot at the dinner table with your teeth. You nosed a knife and fork into place next to it. You sat by it, staring at Kento. A few seconds passed. You pressed your paw to the middle of the plate, more insistent now, ticked off. "Meow."

Gojo felt a bead of sweat drop down his soul.

Kento spoke, uncharacteristically mild.

"You know, this is one part of her that's really not all that different to when she's human."

"Meow--"

"--yes, I'll get you a snack, give me a minute--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yo, Nanamin! A package arrived for you."

"Ahh, Yuuji. Good. Bring it to the staffroom, please."

A rip. A rustle. You, circling round Kento as he rummaged in a box. Your tail twitched, and flicked, excited, excited, excited--

Boff.

A big, glass fishbowl was placed onto the staffroom table. Thrilled, you sprung up, and promptly poured yourself into the bowl, your form melting to fill the space perfectly. Your head peeped out of the top of the bowl. You purred.

Kento looked delighted. Yuuji tried not to laugh.

"How, er...how much was that fishbowl, Nanamin?"

"It doesn't matter how much it cost. She likes it, don't you? Yes, you do. Yes you do."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Ex-excuse me, uhm...would you mind not hanging around outside the womens' bathrooms? We're starting to feel, uhm...uncomfortable."

Kento raised his eyebrows. He pushed his glasses up his nose. He bowed.

"I apologise. I assure you, I'm waiting for my wife--"

A toilet flushed behind closed doors. A scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch at the handle. The door edged open.

"Ah, there she is-- my apologies-- good afternoon--"

A cat ran out with toilet paper stuck to its back foot. Kento followed.

A small crowd of women turned to watch them leave, utterly perplexed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento arrived home with a sigh. The day had been long. His shoulders ached, heavy with the burden of work and worry, missing his wife, and he walked through the corridor, calling for you and--

"My lov-- Jesus Christ!"

You leapt out from the staircase, all four paws out in a clawed jazz-hands of death, and yowled at Kento, before skittering away.

Kento leant back against the wall, holding his chest, his glasses askew. He sounded so desperately weary, when he spoke.

"...please stop jumping out at me, you are ageing me--"

From somewhere deep inside the house, "Meow."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento couldn't remember the last time he ran around his garden like this. But he did, running, panting, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie abandoned in the flowerbeds and a quirked little half-smile on his face.

He hid behind a forget-me-not blue Hydrangea, trying to silence his breaths, listening, and listening, and--

"Meow!"

Kento laughed, deep and husky, as you shot through the bushes, finding him in seconds. He burst out, running across the garden, and feeling you catch up fast, and jump onto his back, and--

Kento grabbed you, his hands huge and warm and gentle. He fell onto his back on the grass, holding you aloft, where you gazed down at him with as much love as a cat could gaze at a human. Except you weren't a cat, were you?

The sun shone your fur into effervescence. Kento sighed, suspending you in one hand and stroking your cheeks and whiskers with the other.

"This is...nice," he whispered. "Fun. We should...we should do this again. When you're back."

You dropped down onto his chest. You nuzzled your nose against his, over, and over, and over, your two front paws clutching his cheeks with joy.

Kento accepted your feline kisses with a faint sting of tears in his nose.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Perhaps there's something about her that always connected on a spiritual level with cats?"

Kento glared at Shoko. "Are you suggesting my wife is more feline than human?"

Shoko smirked. She looked over to you, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, with Kento's tan suit jacket covering your body.

"She'll come back. Maybe she'll get her comeuppance one day, for all the trouble she caused you. But in the meantime...she's kind of cute."

Kento scoffed, stroking your hair behind your ear. He could have sworn he heard you purr.

"Nonsense. She was always cute."

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Atsumu

It had been years of this.

Years of Atsumu Miya being an unrelenting, aggravating presence in your life.

From the moment you met, he had been insufferable. Smug, fiercely competitive, and persistently irksome, he thrived on pushing every button you had. Every interaction with him was a battle—whether it was a disagreement over training schedules, a critique of his technique, or a casual observation about his erratic setting. He never let anything slide, twisting every word into an argument, every comment into an opportunity to outmaneuver you.

The worst part? You never backed down.

If he provoked, you retaliated. If he smirked, you sneered. He could infuriate you faster than anyone else, and he knew it—and he reveled in it.

And now, in your third year as the Inarizaki team manager, you had mastered the art of tolerating Atsumu Miya—

Until tonight.

Tonight, he’d finally gone too far.

The entire team had long since caught on to your dynamic.

Atsumu didn’t merely annoy you—he made a sport out of it.

If you walked into practice? He was already waiting, arms crossed, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he prepared some quip guaranteed to get under your skin.

“Yer late, manager,” he’d say, despite the fact that you never were.

If you so much as tried to correct something? He’d smirk, feigning surprise. “Oh? Maybe I should just hand ya my setter position, huh?”

And the worst part? The others loved it.

Osamu, Futakuchi, and even Kita occasionally leaned back and observed your fights like a live-action drama, amused by how predictably you two clashed.

“Ya know, at this point, I think ya like the attention,” Atsumu teased one afternoon, casually tossing a volleyball between his hands. “Yer always gettin’ worked up over me.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “Oh, please. The day I enjoy anything about you is the day hell freezes over.”

Futakuchi nudged Osamu. “Tension’s thick today.”

Osamu smirked. “Give it five minutes. They’ll be yellin’.”

And five minutes later, Atsumu had said exactly the right thing to set you off, and the shouting commenced.

Practice had gone as usual, with only a few sharp remarks exchanged between you and Atsumu before it was over. You were exhausted, your muscles aching from running errands for the team all day, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was to head home, collapse into bed, and forget that Miya Atsumu existed for a few blessed hours.

The team packed up in the club room, their chatter filling the space as they slung their bags over their shoulders. You barely noticed that Atsumu wasn’t among them as they filed out, too focused on getting the final tasks done so you could lock up and leave.

But when you walked into the gym, your plans crumbled.

Atsumu was still there, alone, setting balls into the air with effortless precision. His expression was intense, brows drawn together in concentration, jaw tight, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only sounds in the gym were the rhythmic thud of the volleyball meeting his hands and the slight squeak of his sneakers against the polished floor as he adjusted his stance.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. Of course. Of course he couldn’t just leave like a normal person.

His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, emphasizing the broad set of his shoulders and the way his forearms flexed every time he made contact with the ball. He moved with precision, power behind every motion, muscles tensing and releasing like a well-oiled machine. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good. Infuriatingly good.

But you didn’t care about that right now.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and sighed. "Seriously, Miya? Go home."

He barely looked at you before responding. "Suck my dick."

You scoffed. "You wish. Now pack up, or I’m locking you in here."

He ignored you, setting another perfect ball into the air. That was the last straw. Marching onto the court, you grabbed the nearest volleyball and chucked it at him. He caught it effortlessly, smirking.

"You gonna help, or just be a pain in my ass?" he taunted.

You turned on your heel and stormed toward the supply closet, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. The overhead light buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, the scent of disinfectant and old volleyballs filling your nose. Without hesitation, you grabbed a laundry basket full of towels and shoved it into Atsumu’s chest the moment you returned.

“You’re gonna help clean up tonight,” you said sharply, your voice edged with exhaustion and frustration.

Atsumu scoffed, letting the weight settle against his chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You stayed late to practice, and I have the keys to the gym. That means you’re packing up before I lock up for the night.”

Atsumu smirked, that lazy, infuriating smirk that made your blood boil. "But you're so much better at those kinds of things, ya know? We all have our strengths."

“Oh? And what's yours?”

He shrugged. “I score points.”

You wanted to strangle him. “I mean off the court, Miya. You brainless egomaniac.”

That smirk widened. "Damn, sweetheart, say it like ya mean it."

Your entire body tensed. If there was one thing—one thing—that set your blood boiling faster than anything, it was that nickname. The way he said it, like it was his own personal joke, a word meant to patronize, to needle at you in a way that no one else dared. It was never affectionate, never playful—not in the way others might say it. No, when Atsumu called you sweetheart, it was dripping with arrogance, a smirk wrapped around syllables meant to get under your skin.

And god, did it work.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, jaw tightening so hard it ached. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

His smirk only grew, as if he had been waiting for that exact reaction. "What? Don't like it? Thought ya might warm up to it by now."

"I'd rather set myself on fire."

Atsumu chuckled, slow and smug, like he'd already won this round. "Now that is dramatic."

You threw a towel at his face, and he caught it effortlessly, his smirk widening. "Temper, temper," he taunted, shaking his head like you were the one being unreasonable. "Y'know, if ya wanted me to get all sweaty cleanin' up, ya coulda just asked nicely." You only roll your eyes in disgust.

“Take those to the supply closet. And don’t start with your usual bullshit, just do what I say for once.”

Atsumu tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something sharp. “Bossy.”

You inhaled sharply, jaw clenching. The way he looked at you—like he thrived on how easily he could rile you up—made your skin prickle. “Miya, I swear to—”

“Fine, fine,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he slung the towels over his shoulder. His smirk deepened as he eyed you, a flicker of amusement dancing behind those infuriatingly sharp eyes. "Must be exhausting bein’ so uptight all the time. Ya ever tried just... relaxin'? Oh, wait, guess that'd require ya to actually remove that stick from  yer ass."

Your blood boiled instantly, a sharp sting of irritation spreading through your chest. Exhaustion and frustration swirled together into something combustible, something that snapped your already frayed patience. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought the urge to throw something harder than a towel at his smug, insufferable face. Without thinking, you stomped past him, heading into the supply closet, letting out a frustrated breath as you grabbed another piece of equipment to throw at him if necessary.

"Maybe if your setting was as reliable as your big mouth, I wouldn’t have to waste my breath on you,” you spat, voice cold and cutting.

Atsumu went rigid. His smirk flattened into something unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—flashed with something dark, something livid.

In an instant, he was storming after you. Before you could react, he followed you into the supply closet, his movements sharp and full of barely restrained anger. The door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" His voice was low, lethal, his usual teasing edge completely gone.

You whirled around, arms crossing over your chest. "You heard me, Miya. Maybe if you focused on actually being consistent instead of running your mouth, you wouldn't have to work overtime trying to convince people you're the best."

His nostrils flared, jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. "You think I got this far by bein' inconsistent? By bein' a fuckin' joke?"

"I think you got this far because you talk so much shit, people actually start to believe it," you bit back. "But I'm not like the rest of your fangirls, Miya. Your act doesn’t work on me."

Atsumu let out a low, humorless laugh, stepping closer. Too close. "Ya really think you know me, huh?" His voice was dangerous now, quiet and sharp like a blade pressed just beneath your skin. "Yer full of shit."

"And you're full of yourself."

The air was thick, charged with something volatile, something unstable. His hands were curled into fists, his breath coming in sharp exhales. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his fury rolling off in waves.

You scoffed in disgust, shaking your head as a bitter smirk pulled at your lips. "You're pathetic."

Atsumu’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening dangerously, but you were already turning away, reaching for the door handle to get as far away from him as possible.

Then your stomach dropped.

The knob refused to turn.

Atsumu frowned. "The hell are ya doin’?"

You twisted the knob again, harder. Still nothing.

Your throat went dry. "The door is locked."

Atsumu snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure it is." He reached out, confidently twisting the handle—

Nothing.

Atsumu frowned, twisting harder. Still nothing.

Silence.

Then, without missing a beat—

“Yeah, like I didn’t try that,” you deadpanned.

Atsumu’s scowl deepened, his frustration crackling in the air between you. "You’ve gotta be fuckin' kidding me. This is all your fault."

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Oh, right, because I totally planned to lock myself in a closet with you of all people."

"Yer mouth sure makes it sound like ya did." His voice was low, edged with something sharp. "Maybe ya just wanted me all to yourself."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Please. If I wanted something all to myself, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you."

Atsumu took a step closer, his presence closing in on you like a storm. "Keep talkin’, princess. Let’s see if ya can keep that smart mouth runnin’ when we’re stuck in here all night."

"Oh, fuck you, Miya," you snapped, stepping forward to meet his glare head-on. "You are without a doubt the most infuriating, self-obsessed asshole I have ever met."

His lips curled into a sneer. "And you’re the most uptight, high-strung pain in the ass I’ve ever met."

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t have to spend every waking second convincing everyone I’m the best. News flash—if you actually were, you wouldn’t have to try so hard."

His eyes darkened, his entire body stiffening at your words. "You wanna talk about trying too hard? How ‘bout ya take a fuckin’ look in the mirror? Always actin’ like ya hate me, but yer always up in my business. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think ya like this."

You scoffed, tilting your head in disbelief. "God, you’re delusional."

"And you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite." He was even closer now, his breath hot, his voice tight with rage. "You always act like ya can’t stand me, but here ya are, pushin’ up against me like ya wanna make this somethin’ else."

The worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Your chests were nearly brushing, your ragged breaths intermingling. Your skin was burning, your hands clenched at your sides, every inch of you wound too tight. The anger, the frustration, the way he always got under your skin���it was all-consuming.

And then, suddenly, neither of you were talking anymore.

Atsumu’s mouth was on yours before you could process it, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was just as furious as your fights. You yanked him down by the collar, fingers tangling into the damp fabric of his shirt, pulling him in hard enough to hurt. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you back against the closet shelves as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was years of pent-up aggression and frustration, a battle neither of you wanted to win. Teeth clashed, hands grabbed, nails dug into skin. The heat between you was unbearable, suffocating, and neither of you had the willpower to pull away.

Atsumu nipped at your bottom lip, his breath hot against your mouth as he muttered, "Knew ya wanted me."

Shut up, Miya." You bit back.

And then you kissed him again, drowning out whatever cocky response he had left.

Atsumu wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. His frustration, his irritation, his hunger bled into every movement as he pushed forward, backing you up until your spine hit the cold surface of the supply closet door. The impact barely registered, not when his hands were gripping at your waist, fingers digging into your sides like he was trying to mark you, claim some kind of dominance even here.

You gasped against his mouth, the moment of vulnerability only spurring him on. His lips left yours for half a second—just long enough for him to smirk. “Told ya,” he murmured, voice husky, breath hot against your skin. “You just needed me to shut ya up properly.”

You barely had time to react before he was kissing you again, harder, more desperate. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck and pulling—a move that ripped a deep, guttural groan from his throat. The sound shot straight down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.

His hands slid down, gripping the backs of your thighs, and without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his waist. He held you effortlessly, as if supporting your weight meant nothing to him. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, making you shudder. He lingered there, his teeth scraping before his mouth latched onto your skin with deliberate pressure. You barely registered the sensation, too caught up in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way his body pressed against yours. But his smirk against your neck said otherwise—like he knew exactly what he was doing, leaving his mark before trailing his lips back to yours.

The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric of your clothes, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made your head spin. His hands started to wander, moving up beneath your shirt, his touch searing—

And then the door burst open.

Atsumu lost his balance. With a startled grunt, he stumbled forward, dragging you with him as you both spilled out of the closet and onto the hard gym floor.

“What the hell?!”

You barely had time to register the situation before a voice rang out above you.

“The fuck are you two doin’ in here?”

Your eyes shot up to see the janitor, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face twisted in the most unimpressed expression you had ever seen.

Silence.

Neither you nor Atsumu moved. You were still on top of him, his hands still on your thighs, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders. The position was beyond compromising.

The janitor raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t cleanin’ up after this.”

Atsumu let out a breathless chuckle beneath you, his smirk returning full force. “Guess we got caught, huh, sweetheart?”You shoved him off you so hard he hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to your feet, face burning with embarrassment. “Shut up, Miya!”

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 4

 [Master List]

Mrs. Bianchi hadn’t been lying when she’d said he would see an influx in children. Within a week of visiting her, he had seven more kids, a total of thirteen. He definitely needed to hire some help- he couldn’t keep duplicating without exhausting his powers and despite Ember’s help, they wouldn’t be able to handle thirteen kids on their own. He could afford to hire help with all the money the Ghost King apparently had.

            “Danny!” A happy little shriek sounded from across the room, quickly growing closer. A small body crashed into his leg and a little ‘oomph’ came from the child who fell to the floor. “Danny! Look! Look, look!” Maru, an unusually energetic four-year-old, shoved a picture she’d drawn towards his face.

            The picture was of two stick figures, the smaller one was crying, and the bigger one was… comforting her? “Wow, Maru! It’s really creative!” He nodded sincerely. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the bigger stick person, assuming the smaller one was her.

            She sighed dramatically. “That’s you silly! Cause I was sad being left home alone all day but now I don’t have to cause mommy said you’re good!”

            He masked the frown that threatened to overtake his face when she mentioned being left alone all day. She didn’t want him to be sad, she wanted him to appreciate her art and reassure her that he’d be around for a while, so she didn’t have to be alone. So that’s what he did. “I like having you around too, Maru!” Her story was just like Marco’s. How many other parents left their children home alone all day just so they could afford to put food on the table?

            A little bell rang alerting him to someone standing in the entrance. He glanced at his watch (which he’d connected to the very thorough security system) and saw a couple of parents waiting to pick their kids up.

            “Allegra! Tommy! Your parents are here!” The two kids groaned, both totally immersed in their activities and not wanting to be dragged away. “Five minutes okay?” He smiled, opening the door for Mrs. Reik and Mia. “They’re finishing up what they’re doing, I’ll grab their bags.”

            They’d fallen into a routine, he, and the parents. They would show up, give their children a few minutes to finish what they were doing, and he’d grab their bags (which he often slipped a book, toy, or snack into without their knowing). Tommy’s bag was a little worn down and he made a mental note of the brand and color so he could replace it.

            When he made his way back to the two women they were each holding a child. “Danny are you still looking for help?” Mia asked, shifting Allegra on her hip.

            He nodded brightly. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time to look, and I don’t know many people yet, so it’s been difficult. If you’re interested or know someone who is, let me know!”

            Mrs. Reik thanked him, grabbed her son’s bag, and was on her way, but Mia lingered.

            “Do you have applications or…?” She trailed off, embarrassment clinging to her frame.

            He nodded, considering the tired look on her face. “I do. It’s mostly a formality,” he moved towards his filing cabinet and pulled out some papers. “and so I can run a background check and such. Do you have experience with kids?”

            She shifted Allegra pointedly. “Mama and- and papa were always working. I raised this one and Georgie too. Now that papa is… anyway, mama needs a little help with money and my schooling’s all online, so I was going to start working anyway.”

            “Well, fill this out, I’ll run the check, and we should be able to get you working real soon.” The bell rang alerting him to another parent. “You have my number if you have any questions.”

            After Mia left most of the parents arrived with the exception of only a few who worked much later. Danny’s daycare was open from seven thirty to six -which was, admittedly, a very long time. But he wanted to be as available as he could for families in need. With Mia’s help he wouldn’t feel so worn down at the end of his eleven-hour day. 

            And worn down he was. When he got back to his apartment he didn’t even realize it had been infiltrated. Usually he would notice something like that immediately, but Ancients he was tired. So tired he didn’t even react when his eyes finally landed on the vigilantes in his living room. He added two more to his list of people who’d managed to sneak up on him and also a mental note to brush up on his observational skills.

            “Oh. Hey.” He nodded slightly, dropping his bag on the ground and crouching to pet the cats, noting Curiosity’s energy. Good, the medicine was working. “Give me a second,” The vigilantes squinted, looking between each other in confusion. “I need coffee.” One of them nodded in understanding, the other sighed dramatically. “You guys want anything?”

            “Coffee sounds great.” The red one responded. Red Robin, his subconscious provided.

            “Agent A banned you from coffee, Red. “The purple one -Spoiler- groaned.

            Red shrugged. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or me. Besides, he offered, it’d be rude to turn him down!”

            Deciding this argument had nothing to do with him, Danny began brewing a fresh pot, poured two mugs, and grabbed a water bottle. Returning to the living room he found Red examining his pictures of him and his Fraid, and Purple collapsed into his couch. “You didn’t ask for anything, so I got you water. It’s still sealed.”

            She looked touched, grabbing the bottle, unsealing it, and taking a tentative sip. Red didn’t hesitate when grabbing the coffee and taking a large gulp, not even wincing at how hot it was.

            “So. What can I do for you guys?” He collapsed into the armchair across from Purple and began sipping on the coffee. Gross, he should have added sugar.

            Red squinted. “You don’t seem terribly shocked about our presence.”

            Danny shrugged, tiredly. “Hey man, it’s Gotham. I would have been annoyed that you guys broke my four-month streak of not running into any vigilantes or rogues except Nightwing ruined that streak a few nights ago so…”

            “You ran into Nightwing?” Red asked.

            Before Danny could answer, Spoiler spoke up. “What the hell’s going on with your pants?”

            He glanced down, considering the right leg of his jeans which, he now noticed, was covered in doodles, and sighing. “I should know better than to wear my nicer jeans to work, huh? Allegra probably did that while I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, as fun as this is, I’m sure you didn’t come here for refreshments and conversation?”

            “Actually, that’s exactly why we’re here.” Red Robin placed his now empty mug on the coffee table (seriously, how did he drink it that fast? It’s literally a thousand degrees!) and sat beside Spoiler. “Just wanted to get to know the new guy in the Bowery.”

            Danny snorted, taking another sip before closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling. “More like, you wanted to get to know the guy who is doing a good thing for seemingly nothing in return and wondering if it’s a front or if he’s a rogue in the making. Am I right?” He slid one eye open and took in their surprised faces. “I’m not an idiot, I know what I’m doing is going to raise some questions. It took forever to get anyone in the community to trust me.”

            “So-”

            “Who’s your mystery donor?” Spoiler asked, cutting Red Robin off.

            He smirked. “You’re looking at him.”

            Tucker had added an egregiously wealthy relative to Danny’s backstory when recreating him. He’d forged a death certificate, a will, bank transfer’s, a charge for cremation and an urn, everything one could need to convince the world that his money was earned in a normal way and not through combat for a ghost throne. He even displayed the urn on a bookshelf in his living room.

            The two vigilantes stared, glancing at the run-down apartment, and back to him. “No really, who is it?” Red asked.

            Danny rolled his eyes. “I have a pretty big inheritance, just using it for something good. No one would trust me if I told them it was me though, definitely makes me seem like a rogue out to traffic their kids or something. Which,” He looked at them pointedly. “is not the case. I’m just doing what I can as a favor for a friend.”

            “Pretty big favor.” Purple whistled.

            “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have free time. But after finishing my bachelor’s and not needing to work, I was getting bored.” Technically, that was only partially true. Danny still spent more than his fair share of time working in the Infinite Realms as their king. But they didn’t need to know that.

            The vigilantes looked at each other skeptically before Red spoke again. “You decided to open up an entirely free daycare, paying for everything out of pocket, as a favor to someone because you were bored?”

            He shrugged.

            “No matter how much money you have that’s not sustainable!” Red threw his hands up in the air.

Danny considered this for a moment, taking another drink. “You know Bruce Wayne?” The two froze only for a moment, so short that it would be hard to catch unless you had experience reading people’s micro expressions. Which he did. “The amount of money I have makes Bruce Wayne look impoverished by comparison. That’s not a brag, it’s disgusting, and I’m trying to get rid of it. So. There. I can keep this daycare running for the rest of my life without putting a dent in my inheritance.”

            “How the hell do you have that much money!?” Purple shouted.

            “Listen, Purple, can I call you purple? I’ve been calling you Purple in my head this whole time, you didn’t exactly introduce yourselves.” Sure, he knew her name was Spoiler, but she didn’t need to know that. “Anyway, Purple, I inherited the money, don’t ask me how I have so much, ask the guy who gave it to me- well, you can’t, I guess, cause he’s dead, but that’s not the point.” He paused, realizing he’d been going several sentences without breathing which was definitely suspicious. “I have a shit ton of money; my friend raised me better than to be a rich capitalist scumbag so I’m doing my best to make her not hate me for my wealth.”

            Maybe that would be enough breadcrumbs to keep them busy for a while and off his back. He was rich, he inherited it from someone who was dead, he had a friend who hated the rich, he might as well give them his social security number and childhood home address while he was at it! Tucker could find someone more mysterious with less.

            He heard the distinct voice of a woman coming from their ears (probably a comm?). “You two done with RR’s weird obsession? We have actual crime to deal with.” It was an amused but stern voice, and it reminded him of Jazz the few times she’d joined Tucker on his comms.

            Red was grumbling something, but Purple seemed amused. “Well… I’m Spoiler, but Purple is fine too I suppose. Aaaaaand while this has been -fun- and all, we should probably get going. Thank you for answering our questions and for the drinks. Sorry for breaking into your apartment.”

            He grunted in response, the exhaustion of the day seeping into his weary bones. The sound of his window sliding open and shut signaled their departure and while he had intended to take a shower and eat dinner, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. This daycare thing was a lot more exhausting than he’d thought it would be.

            The thought he’d been having on and off since opening the place up reappeared. How long was he planning to keep this up? He’d done it all on a whim and by the time he realized what he was doing, it was done. He was now the (maybe proud?) owner of a free daycare in the middle of the Bowery and also the king of the infinite realms and how long was he going to be able to do both?

            Hiring Mia would help (would he be able to explain Lunch Lady and Ember?) but he had had so many ideas on how to help Gotham, he wanted to do it all. While he wasn’t a true Gothamite, hadn’t grown up here, had barely been here a few months, he’d grown to like the rough city, this wasn’t simply a favor to Lady Gotham anymore. It was something he really wanted to do. The people here needed help; he could provide it.

            Teaching some classes at Gotham U could be interesting but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to or not. He already had so much on his plate, could he really add something as big as teaching college level classes? And if he did want to teach, would his teaching be better off at Gotham U or maybe a younger level? If he could hire enough trustworthy people to watch over the daycare and run it themselves, he could work on some of this other plans for Gotham.

            Their education was extremely lacking anywhere that wasn’t Gotham Academy (for rich snobs) and he’d double majored in Engineering and Biochemistry, surely his knowledge would be useful to teenagers?

            Great. If he followed his usual pattern of following through on whatever whims he had, he was likely to build a whole Ancients damned school in the Narrows next. Although…. It would help with the exorbitant wealth thing….

~~~

            Danny had definitely prepared for messes. He’d stocked his cabinets with different cleaning supplies and tools for all kinds of spills. He’d expected food, drinks, and bodily fluids, but he didn’t have a cleaning product to get melted crayon out of carpets- he didn’t even know how Allegra had managed to melt the crayon!

            It hadn’t been that big of a deal, honestly, but the carpets were new, and Danny liked when the place looked organized (the same could not be said for his apartment or bedroom) and the large dark red stain on the light blue path of the carpet looked suspiciously like blood which was not a good look for the daycare.

            That was how Danny found himself searching the convenience store down the street for some kind of cleaning product for melted crayons. It was only after he’d gone to three convenience/grocery stores in the area that he decided he would make the trip across the river to the Upper East Side and search one of the ‘nicer’ stores.

            Despite his desire to get rid of his wealth, he didn’t like shopping at the fancier stores in the area, for the same reason he didn’t live in a penthouse in the Diamond District. He couldn’t help Gotham without putting himself in the shoes of her people. And while he wasn’t truly in their shoes (being an incredibly wealthy king meant he’d never truly understand their suffering) he also refused to live lavishly.

            But he really wanted to get the red crayon out of his carpets. There were… so many cleaning products. Staring at the shelves, Danny began mentally crossing out each one he knew wouldn’t work before picking up individual bottles and checking what they were meant for. It took a long time. He was only halfway through the search when he felt someone approaching.

            An older man in a suit of some sort (who goes grocery shopping in a suit?) stopped a few steps away, picking up a couple of cleaning products and placing them in his cart. He began to move away before stopping once more.

           “I noticed you seem unsure about the cleaning products. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” His tone was polite, but Danny felt a blush spread across his cheeks anyways. He was supposed to be a responsible adult, but he couldn’t even find a cleaning product correctly.

           Nodding appreciatively, Danny faced the man. “I need to get melted crayon out of a carpet and apparently my closet of cleaning supplies wasn’t prepared for that.”

          The man nodded. “That sounds like quite the mess.” He plucked a bottle from the shelf that Danny had yet to look at. “This will do the trick. Pour a generous amount onto the affected area, let it sit for fifteen minutes, then scrub it out, repeat, and rinse.”

          Danny grinned. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m Danny.” He offered the man a hand.

          “Alfred Pennyworth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

          They shook hands before Danny stepped away. “Well this is all I needed and I’ve gotta get back to take care of this as soon as possible. I really appreciate your help Mr. Pennyworth.”

          “I’m glad I could help you. Have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Danny.”

          And an enjoyable evening he had. Once he’d gotten back to the daycare, Danny managed to scrub out the stain (Thank you Mr. Pennyworth) until the carpet looked almost good as new and definitely not like blood had been spilled on it. Afterwards he made his way home with a bit more energy in his step than he was used to.

           Jazz had insisted on Danny having one of those large family calendars due to his crazy schedule and tonight being a Thursday night meant it was time to plan out the following weekend and week after. Things were generally the same every week- Daycare from seven thirty to six, Monday through Friday, the evenings were spent recharging, Saturdays he slept in and went to the Infinite Realms from eleven to eleven, Sunday mornings he got brunch with Jazz, Sunday nights was the group call with Tucker, Sam, Val, and Jazz, and then it repeated.

           But he hadn’t made it to the soup kitchen in a while and he had really enjoyed volunteering there while the daycare was under construction so tomorrow he was going to get up early, go to the Realms from six to six and make it back in time to help with the dinner crowd. He hadn’t seen the two brothers in a few weeks but there were few days he didn’t think about them.

~~~

            Mia was an incredibly helpful addition to the daycare and Danny thanked the Ancients she was so reliable. Although he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her entirely alone at any point throughout the day, he did get to take a few hours in the afternoon to get paperwork done in his office while she watched over the kids. On busier days he wouldn’t even do that. They had eight kids every day, guaranteed, but there were many families with less regular schedules that would drop their kids off once or twice a week and on those days, Danny wouldn’t leave Mia alone for even a moment.

            The best part about her was that she didn’t ask questions. She’d taken one look at Lunch Lady, paused, looked at the menu, nodded, and didn’t say a word. When Ember introduced herself Mia acted as though it were a completely normal situation, completely ignoring the green/gray skin and getting to work.

            She didn’t work the entire day, he couldn’t (and wouldn’t) ask her to stay for an almost twelve-hour shift. She came in around nine in the morning and left around three, taking Allegra with her. When he told her how much he’d be paying her she nearly had a heart attack, but working with children was a difficult and demanding job and he refused to underpay her for her work.

            “Hey boss, you looking for more help around here?” She asked in the middle of cleaning up for naptime on an unusually busy Friday afternoon.

            He dumped his armful of toys into the bin and pushed his hair out of his face. He really needed a haircut. “Yeah. Your help has been great, but I’m hoping to eventually have enough people here that I don’t have to actually be here all day every day anymore, you know?” She nodded thoughtfully. “You have someone in mind?”

            She wiped down the tables still covered in crumbs from snack time and took a moment before responding. “I have a friend who mentioned an interest. He doesn’t live around here but he’s a friend. I’ve known him a long time, he’s good people.”

            He shrugged. “Give him an application and I’ll look it over. And if you’ve got more friends like that, feel free to give them applications too. Like I said, I’m looking to hire quite a few people. Although, I’d like to hire people slowly, make sure everyone gets trained well and gets along before hiring another person.”

            She hummed in agreement and at the end of her shift took three application packets, stuffing them into Allegra’s backpack before picking the girl up and toting her away. Mrs. Reik was the last person to pick her son up that day and she ended up staying a bit to chat.

            “I can’t tell you how helpful your daycare has been for our family.” She started, a sentiment that many of the parents had conveyed to him many times. “I was wondering if you’d like to come by for dinner sometime, so we can properly thank you?” Her offer was shy, slightly guarded, but definitely genuine.

            He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. He’d been told that his smiles could be unnerving (too many teeth) so he channeled all the appreciation he could into this one while still keeping it small. “I would love to, Mrs. Reik.”

            “Oh please, call me Diane. Would next Friday work? My husband will be home all day with Tommy, and he makes a mean lasagna.”

            As long as his food didn’t come back to life, he wasn’t too picky about it. “That sounds great. The daycare is open until six, is seven all right?”

            “That’s perfect. Thank you again, Mr. Nightingale.”

            “Please, if I’m going to call you Diane, you can call me Danny.”

            Apparently, Jazz was right, making friends wasn’t so difficult. The formula was as easy as opening a free daycare, putting yourself out there, befriending every person you meet so they spread the word about you and your business, and working twelve hours a day five days a week chasing after energetic demons. Easy.

~~~

            The good part about being able to open portals to the Infinite Realms was that he didn’t need to wake up extra early to get to work. He rolled out of bed (which he’d actually made it to before taking one of his power naps, thank Ancients) at 6:02 in the morning, ripped open a portal, transformed, and BAM! He was at work.

            Stepping directly into his office (seriously he needed to get rid of a few offices how did he have so many?), he settled in for a few hours of paperwork before taking a break. He had quite a few requests to schedule a time to spar which he scheduled first- putting those off only meant his rogues would come find him and he didn’t want to explain to Gotham why he was fighting ghosts- before moving onto other matters.

            The Observants knew not to bother Danny in his office after an incident where Danny had refused to do work for a day for every disturbance he received. It was a three weeklong strike that finally ended in them leaving him alone and Danny eventually catching up on his paperwork.

            Three hours later he experienced a moment he thought he’d never see. There wasn’t any paperwork on his desk. He was free! Free! Standing up in the hopes to leave the Infinite Realms early, a pile of paperwork materialized in front of him.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            Collapsing back into his chair, Danny regretted every moment of his miserable life. He just had to stop Pariah from destroying the world, didn’t he? But guess what, Danny? No world, no paperwork! He could be nonexistent right now, oblivion, dead, but instead, he was half dead and one hundred percent responsible for copious amounts of paperwork.

            There would be no rest for the dead it seemed.

Prev. Next

[bernardsbendystraws]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 12: Chris's Girl

Neither my heart or my mind pulled in one direction to a clear decision. Every thought wavered my mind back and forth as I stared around the dark room, laying on the cold, hard mattress. 

Matt had made me unbelievably happy. But, it was more than that. He made it seem so easy, so natural to be in the constant state of warm butterflies resigning through my veins.

My dad was…my dad. I had prayed and begged to every god and every star for years upon years. His arms wrapping around me felt like hope–and not the kind I had to make up in my head. 

The back of my hands were extremely tender from the bruises that slashed across my skin. Every time I had gotten close to letting my eyes flutter shut, I accidentally rolled over on the throbbing flesh. 

It felt like a stupid decision to even have to consider. My father–who I’ve known my whole life, or a boy I haven’t even known for six months. 

The guilt weighed heavy on my chest as my crusted eyelashes pulled apart with each blink. I had cried enough that it ran dry. The drought had consumed me, but the flood of emotions still crashed down on me with colossal waves. 

Selfish. Every thought passing by was selfish. I wasn’t just thinking of my dad’s recovery, I was thinking of him finally talking to me–wanting to talk to me. 

But, why now? Why did he suddenly want to get better and care about me when I finally had found something that made my chest not feel so…empty. 

I couldn’t feel time pass by anymore. The consuming thoughts and conversations in my head had paralyzed time for me. 

Until I heard my phone alarm start to go off. 

My body felt heavy as I stood from my bed. The cold, morning air didn’t feel refreshing. It just felt cold. I let my feet drag on the floor as I pulled on an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. 

After doing the absolute bare minimum, my phone buzzed.

[From Matt: Outside :)] 

With a heavy sigh, I grabbed my bag and stormed to the door. I heard my dad’s laugh from the kitchen as the smell of eggs reached my nose. 

The nausea waved over me as I forced my eyelids to blink open. 

It’s gonna be a long day, that’s for sure. 

_

Matt’s POV

We had barely sat in Mrs. Evans class for five minutes before I felt her head collapse on my shoulder. I knew something was wrong, it wasn’t hard to tell. 

Her swollen eyes were sunken into her cheeks with dark circles. She had been deathly quiet, seeming to be fighting with gravity to hold up any limb. I had asked her what was wrong in the car, but I was met with a hum of acknowledgement. 

I didn’t push further. I had just turned down the music before reaching my arm out and pulling her head down on my bicep as I drove. 

Why was she so tired? Why did she look so sad?

The sweatshirt she was wearing was one of my bigger ones. It was sickening how happy it made me to see her in my clothes. Especially as she bunched the extra fabric into her fists as if it was the comfiest thing on Earth. 

I held back a laugh as I felt a slight trace of damp wetness where her mouth rested on my arm. She’s drooling on me. With anyone else, I probably would’ve been absolutely revolted–but with her, it was adorable. 

I had brought my hand up to her forehead. It wasn’t too warm, she wasn’t sick. 

Maybe she just didn’t sleep well last night? 

Her bed definitely wasn’t the comfiest thing. Honestly, the thought of her sleeping with just the thin, worn blanket in the dead of winter made me upset. At first I had hoped there were more blankets stored away in the house, but after realizing how truly barren everything was–I highly doubted it. 

I wanted her to stay over at my house, but I didn’t push when she hesitated. I didn’t wanna take away her personal time. But, part of me was sure that she only hesitated because she didn’t wanna feel like she was over-staying. 

After being dismissed into table work with our partners, Mrs. Evans shot me a questioning look, gesturing her pen in her hand down to Y/n. I shrugged softly with the shoulder opposite of the arm she was leaning on. Mrs. Evans nodded her head hesitantly, bringing her attention back to whatever paper rested in her hands. 

_

Each class passed the same. I was worried to say the least. Each time I tried to ask if she was okay, she just responded telling me she was tired. 

I had my hockey game tonight. I wasn’t worried–the team we were playing against didn’t have great scores so far into the new season. The only thing I was worrying about was her. 

Her hands stayed curled in the sweatshirt sleeves like a blanket, tucked under her chin practically all day. I wanted to reach out, hold her hand–but I refused to wake her up. 

“Hey, wake up.” I whisper. She groans in response, nuzzling further into my arm as I take the keys out of the ignition. Chris and Nick had already gotten out of the car while I stayed, gently petting her hair and trying to wake her up slowly. 

“Are you okay? Did you just not get good sleep?” Her eyelids hazily flutter open as she shakes her head back and forth. I lightly laugh, watching as she swipes the drool off her imprinted cheek from my hoodie lines. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” I urge. She nods slightly, but makes no movement to even unclip her seatbelt. I didn’t mind–I honestly liked taking care of her, doing anything and everything to make her life easier and to make her feel appreciated. 

I walk around, opening her door leaning over to unclip her seatbelt. I grab her bag and reach out for her hand. Her feet stumble walking to the door. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me as her weight immediately leans on me. 

I guided her into the front door before sitting her on the couch. In a sleepy daze, she still reaches out, petting Trevour. I hold back a smile as I close the front door, slipping off my shoes. 

I walk over, kneeling on the floor in front of her as I untie her shoe laces. I pull off each shoe from her foot before standing and offering her a hand. She lazily reaches out, placing her hand in mine as I feel her warmth radiate through the fabric of the sweatshirt. 

Her eyes shoot open as I pull her up, a gasp of pain erupting from her mouth as she pulls her hand back to her chest. Did I grab her that hard? No–I couldn’t have. 

Looking up at her face, I notice her panicked eyes darting around the room. “Hey, what’s wrong with your-” I reach out, but she pulls her hands behind her back. My heart sinks with the realization. 

She promised she’d tell me. 

“Can we–can we just go to your room?” she asks. I nod hesitantly before following her steps. 

As I walk through the threshold of my room after her, I close the door softly. She lays on the bed, pulling the material even further down her arms and bunching it up in her clenched hands. She snuggles on top of the comforter, pulling her hands under her chin. 

She promised. She’d tell me. Right?

I walk over, laying on my back as she stays in her position. Her guilty eyes tell me all I need to know. I don’t even have to hear the lie to know she’s not telling the truth. 

My lips quiver at the thought of her pain. How could someone hurt her? How could somebody even hurt their own kid? 

I take a deep breath. Maybe–just maybe, I’m overthinking this. My anxiety has always led me to make abrupt conclusions. I hope this is one of them. 

“Y/n?” I voice. Her eyes are fluttered shut, a small hum erupting from her sealed lips. “What is–” 

“Matt, I’m really tired. Can we please just take a nap?” she asks. 

I reach out, caressing her arm. “Yes, just—is everything okay?” I ask. Her eyes peer open slightly before closing once more. 

I see her lips tremble as they pull apart. “Yeah…everything’s okay.” she says. I feel a weight drop in my gut at the obvious lie. 

I let myself sit in doubt as her breathing starts to pace in deep, even breaths. The light snores start sounding from her mouth.

Patiently observing her sleeping state, I reach out. I slowly and gently pull her wrist out from under her chin in the slightest. I pull down the bunched-up sleeve with a snail pace. 

The slight shift of her body makes me freeze. She snuggles further into the sheets, the light snores resuming. I hold my hands in place.

After a minute, I finally crept the fabric down lower and lower. Purple, green, and yellow hues paint a line across the back of her hand. I bite the inside of my cheek, grinding my teeth together as my ears grow hot. 

I place her hand gently down, tugging up the material into its original place. What the fuck do I do? 

I slowly lift myself from off the bed, pulling my phone in my hands as I travel down the hallway. 

Please don’t hate me for this. This is me trying to help. 

_

Y/n’s POV 

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The word chanted like a mantra even in my sleepy haze. As my eyes fluttered open, I noticed the sunset peering in through his bedroom window. The bed was completely barren beside me, not even an indent resting in the comforter. 

Where is he? Is he already at his hockey game? I stretch my limbs out, standing from the bed. I hear the faint whisper of voices as I open his bedroom door. Two female voices–ones I knew like the back of my hand. 

Before I can round the corner, Nick erupts from his room with Madi behind his shoulder. 

“Can you come in for a sec?” he asks. I look over my shoulder, peering down the hallway as the voices seem to hush to a quieter volume. Looking back at Nick, I hesitantly nod my head. 

He opens the door wider for me to come in. Madi greets me with a small smile as she tucks some of her chocolate hair behind her ear. I give her a smile back as I hear Nick shut the door from behind me. 

I notice the white dots of makeup around her eyes as I get closer. “Woah, your makeup is actually astounding.” I compliment. 

Her eyes beam with a happy squint. “Want me to do yours?” she offers. I nod my head eagerly as she tugs me to Nick’s bed, sitting me on the neutral bedding. 

Nick turns around, clapping his hands together with a smile. “So,” he walks over, grabbing a speaker in his hands and pressing some of the buttons. I hear the faint song start to increase with volume as Madi nods her head along to the beat. “--let’s get lit, bitches.” he announces.

I laugh, bobbing my head in sync as Nick starts dancing with that talent of a patient having a seizure. 

“Do you want me to just do your makeup? I’ll make it look pretty, I swear!” she says. I give her a curt nod, watching as she digs through the hot-pink makeup bag. 

“Purple or pink?” she asks, holding up two different pallets. I point to the pink one as she squeals in excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that! Pink is definitely gonna look perfect on you.” she remarks. 

She opens the pallet, revealing small pans containing varying shades of pink hues. Taking a small brush from the small pink bag, she dips the bristles in the powder, tapping it on the rim of the rectangular pallet as excess product shakes off the brush. 

“Okay, just close your eyes for me…” she directs. I let my eyes flutter shut as I feel the soft circular motions of the brush against my eyelid. 

The sensation almost puts me to sleep as I sit upright. I hear her rummage through her bag, keeping my eyes closed as I feel various products placed onto the skin around my eyes. 

“Okay, look up for this part.” I follow her command, my eyes flickering up to the ceiling as I feel the slight sticky sensation of her drawing with an eyeliner pencil in small dots in the same places she had on her own eyes. 

“And…” she trails off, patting down her pinky on my eyelids with a shimmery shade of glittery pink. “--done! Nick, come look!” 

I open my eyes fully, watching as Nick rushes over from dancing around the room in the opposite corner. He leans down, his lips parting. “Damn! This really looks good on you!” he states. 

I grin at the compliment, eagerly soothing my covered palms on my thighs with excitement. Madi stands up, waving her hand as a motion for me to follow. My feet practically bounce off the floor with each step as I walk behind her into Nick’s bathroom in his room. 

She flips on the lights as I stare at myself in the mirror. I had never had access to makeup, not even used it because it seemed like such a waste of money. But, I felt beautiful. 

The pink shimmery shades made my eyes pop. The small dots of white eyeliner made everything look so…perfect. I knew I was beautiful, but looking in the mirror made me feel beautiful. 

“I love it so much, oh my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I exclaim. I had pulled Madi into a hug as she wrapped her arms around me. With a flush of embarrassment, I stepped back. “--sorry, I just got really excited.” I mumble.

Madi doesn’t drop her hands, instead she pulls me back into a tight embrace. “Girl, you’re fine! We’re friends! I’m a hugger too, no worries.” she says. 

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my arms relax around the girl as I appreciated the moment. Sure, Matt’s hugs were so unbelievably great–his moms were too, but it didn’t feel like this. 

I had always wanted a girl-friend. I wanted to get ready, blasting music as we picked out each other’s outfits. She hadn’t just made me look pretty–she made me feel pretty. 

“I really appreciate it, Madi. I really–fuck I’m PMS-ing, I’m trying so hard not to cry!” I announce. I look up, blinking back the growing pools of water in my eyes. 

Madi grabs me by both of my shoulders. “Oh my god! Me too!” she exclaims. A smile covers my face as our laughter mixes together. I see Nick walk in through the mirror as he wraps his arms around the both of us, squeezing with an absurd amount of pressure. 

“Sorry–I felt left out,” he says. The laughter gets louder in the tiled bathroom as the music plays from the speaker. 

Madi clenches her gut, falling to the floor as her squeaks of giggles fall endlessly. I hold onto the counter as Nick glances between the both of us with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck is going on.” he whispers out. The statement isn’t funny, but for some reason Madi’s laugh makes my giggles contagiously flow as I feel my eyes squint with streams of tears falling. 

Madi tilts her head up, her own wet tears falling down her cheeks with smudged mascara. “I’m so glad I’m gay.” Nick breaths out. The giggles get silent as only wheezes of laughter escape our mouths. 

We both take a couple of deep breaths, calming down as we exchange a look of disbelief. “We can take this shit off so we don’t look like sparkly-raccoons.” she suggests. 

I nod my head in agreement as she stands up, grabbing a bag of makeup-wipes off the counter. She snatches out one, handing it to me as I hold it cluelessly. “Just do what I do,” she directs. 

I follow her motions, my skin turning a slight shade of pink as I wipe at the skin. 

Soon enough, both of our faces are bare. Nick dances behind us as we observe through the mirror, exchanging looks with smiles. 

_

After an incredible amount of cookies and an unreasonable amount of trashy reality TV, I felt nothing but refreshed. The sullen thought of my dad looming over my head was pushed out by the ridiculous comments from Nick’s mouth. 

“When’s Matt’s hockey game? Isn’t it late?” I ask, reaching around for my phone in my empty pockets. 

Nick’s lips smack together as he twists his mouth to the side. “He’s actually, uh, he’s not playing tonight.” he explains. 

I tilt my head with a curious look. “What–why? Is he okay?” I press. Nicks nod affirmatively as I let out a breath of relief. 

“He, uh, I don’t know…” he trails off, grabbing his phone. “--he can explain it all to you, he said he was on his way home a couple of minutes ago—it shouldn’t be long.” he says. 

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling on the skin with nervousness. I sit with the swirling pit of anxiety bringing me back to reality–everything I had forced myself from confronting since I had walked through Nick’s bedroom door. 

I feel a warm hand land on my shoulder. I look over, seeing Madi’s eyes giving me a soft expression with a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s just Matt. That guy practically worships the ground you walk on from how he talks about you.” she says. 

I feel my cheeks flush as I inhale a deep breath, nodding my head in acknowledgement to Madi. It’s just Matt. 

I hear a sudden knock at the door as my ears perk with anticipation. “Come in.” Nicks shouts. 

The door creaks open as Matt pokes his head through the sliver. He gives a small smile and wave to Nick and Madi before turning to me. “Can you come with me?” he asks. 

I get up off the bed, clenching the fabric of the hoodie sleeves in my hands as I give the pair still laying on the bed a smile. “Thank you guys. See you later?” I ask. Madi nods aggressively, making me laugh as I see Nick hold up his hand with a look that says, ‘duh.’ 

“Yeah,” Nicks starts, “--obviously. Sorry, Matt, you’re gonna have to share. She’s our girl now.” he states. 

“True that.” Madi replies, high-fiving Nick with pursed lips. I shake my head in amusement before turning to see Matt doing the same. He nods his head, a notion for me to follow him as I give them one final wave. 

“Our girl.” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice. I hold back a laugh, following as he walks down the hallway and into his room. 

“My girl, actually. Ain’t that right?” he presses. I nod affirmatively, watching as he shuts the door behind him. I turn to dive into the bed, pausing as I look at the array of items rested on his sheets. 

The plant his mom had given me, the two toy frogs, bags that had familiar articles of clothing spilling out from the top. 

“Matt,” I gasp, turning around to see him staring at me with a sullen look. “--what is all of this? I…what’s, what's going on?” I breathe out. 

“I,” his gaze flickers towards the ground and back up to me. “I saw your hands, Y/n. I know you lied, I’m sorry I went behind your back, but I needed to make sure you were safe. I read what you had written in my journal, you can’t live like that anymore.” he says. 

My lips part as my jaw falls with gravity. I stand frozen in place as my eyes stare at his chest. Dad. 

I hear the patter of his feet as his hands land on my shoulders. I look up, a tear falling from my eyes as I meet his gaze. “I talked to my parents. We came up with a couple of options for you, but I’m sorry—you can’t live with a man who hurts you this much.” he states. 

“You promised you wouldn’t read what I wrote, Matt.” I point out, a frown forming as I tug my lips into a tight line. 

“You promised me you would tell me if this ever happened. I’m sorry, but I did what I had to.” he explains softly. 

I feel the anger rumble in my chest as my vision blurs with hot tears of frustration. “Matt, he’s my dad. I can’t just leave him. I can’t give up on him.” I spill the words with a broken voice as I push him off me with a hand on his chest. 

“He was getting better–he–” I spit with anger lacing in my tone as I pushed my hands on his chest repeatedly. 

“He was passed out drunk when we got to your house, Y/n.” He lands his hands on top of mine, sliding down and holding my wrists against his chest. The skin unveiled shrines, the shades of the bruises covering my flesh with a sinking feeling in my gut. 

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me, Matt!” I cry out pitifully as my voice cracks. 

“I’m not…he didn’t even go to work today. He just screamed about–it doesn’t matter what…just–you can’t be there.” he breathes out. 

I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “Mom said you can stay here. I’ll even sleep out on the couch or with Chris or Nick. Madi’s mom, Laura, lives next door. She said she has a spare bedroom too….” he trails off. 

People wanted to help me? Just like that?

My eyebrows furrow as I glance up at him. “Matt, I don’t know, this is a lot—” I suck in a harsh breath, looking up at the ceiling as I will the tears to stay at bay. 

“I know, I know. But—-we all care about you, we’re all here for you…” he says. His hands drop my wrists before he pulls me into his arms. “I care about you, I’m here for you…okay? It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” he soothes. 

I nod my head in his embrace as he pets the back of my head with a gentle touch. “Asking people for help–accepting help…it’s really out of my comfort zone, Matt. I just…I don’t even know.” I sigh. 

“It’s gonna be okay. You can still see your dad if you want to, I’m not gonna stop you—but, I’m coming with. I can’t—I can’t just let you get hurt like that. It kills me.” he utters softly under his breath. 

@sturniolosmind @freshloveforthefit @gnxosblog @sturnreblog @milasturniolo @mattscokewhore @melanch0lybby @stars4matt @samandcolbyfan22 @ruedowney @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @greatooglymooglyyy

@txssvx @junnniiieee07 @sturnstvs @sturnioloblogs @sunsetsturniolos @flowerxbunnie @rootbeerworshiper @sturniolohoe @mayhem-7-blog @braindead4l @lovergirl4387 @hearts4chriss @1horrormoviewhore1

@mattslolita @hearts4chris @nicksmainbitch @imfromthediningtable @st7rnioioss @sturniololol @nedsmarie44 @tomskookie @itssophiasstuff @chrissystur @chrisstankyleg @cloudykitten2004

@abruuu01 @riasturns @strnilolo @chrissystur @lrs-jenkinson

@yourfavoritefangirl @stonermattsgf @x3rox @cookiehaos

@iloveneilperry @lullvu @chrattstromboli @sstvrnioloo @seahorsie11

@sturnzsblog @sturnikitty @sturniol0s @sturnioloa @stasiesturn

@imwetforyourmom @matty-bear @pinklittleflower @mattsaq

@realuvrrr @sofiaannaleise @ariieeesworld @chrisstankyleg @hiraethlimerence

@ryli3sworld @wtpdhoe @eileenhou @lov3bug @jamiesturniolo

@jake-and-johnnies-slut @lovesodakid @simply-a-simper

@graysturns @glassesmattsbae @sturnsfav @unbruisable @dsturniolo

@sofie-1 @timmyscomputer @sturniolo-fav-matt @millyswife @ash-gaming13

@strmbolisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @ribread03 @sturniolo04

@strnilolo @chrattstromboli @veysxrge @matthemunch44 @giannasturn

[clarepreed]

As Long As We Both Shall Live

Story Content and Summary - 5,666. Ellie and Mateo from Slip and Fall get married, but will Ellie survive the day? Heart block, agonal breathing, on-site resuscitation.

Sequel to: Slip and Fall; characters also seen in Choke.

--

Ellie looked beautiful. Delicate, dressed in cream lace, curly hair pulled back from her face and tumbling down her back. Light make up aside from her eyes; Mateo could still see her freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

She stared up at him with a look of adoration, one that he returned tenfold. Her voice was steady as she made her vows, but her eyes gave her away, glistening with emotion.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

She’d felt nauseated and a little dizzy prior to the ceremony, causing them to delay for fifteen minutes. Her mother, Rebekah, told him she hadn’t eaten enough breakfast. He hovered outside the bathroom, more than willing to come in and help. She didn’t want him to see her in her dress like that, however, and she’d refused Josh’s offer of a finger stick. Paloma, matron of honor and several months pregnant, saved the day with a sparkling water and a handful of candy.

Ellie looked pale coming down the aisle, and she’d definitely wavered on her feet more than once, but she squeezed his hand and whispered reassurances. As the ceremony wrapped up, they stood close, Mateo keeping a protective eye on his new wife. 

“I pronounce you married,” the pastor intoned. “Please seal your union with a kiss!”

Ellie reached for him, and he folded her into his arms, leaning in to press a kiss to her upturned mouth. She tasted like strawberry candy, and he lingered, overtaken by his good fortune and the commitment they’d just made to each other.

When he pulled back, she smiled up at him.

“I love you,” she murmured, her voice thick.

“I love you, too.”

Someone cheered, then everyone cheered. Mateo turned, intending to steer them toward the aisle. Ellie stumbled. 

“Hey!” Mateo tightened his grip on her, watching in alarm as her face blanched and her eyelids fluttered. She stared at him for several long seconds, then her eyes shifted to the side and rolled back, her body going limp in his arms. “Ellie! JOSH!”

His brother-in-law was beside them in seconds, helping to lower Ellie to the floor. Josh looked up, then caught sight of Mateo and Paloma’s father. “Hugo! Behind the driver’s seat of my truck, there’s a big orange medical bag. You can’t miss it! Hurry!” He dug into his pocket and dragged out a set of keys, tossing them to the older man.

“Ellie!” Mateo called out, gently patting her cheek. She looked pale enough that he felt a stab of fear, remembering how she’d looked the day she’d drowned in the river.

Josh pressed two of his fingers into her neck, but as he did so, she stirred, her arms flinching and a huff of air escaping her lips.

“Open your eyes, Ellie,” Josh said.

“Cocktail hour is starting now!” Mateo heard Paloma say. “Go on, everyone. We’ll meet you there shortly!”

Ellie opened her eyes, a look of consternation and confusion passing across her face. 

“You’re okay,” Mateo said, wanting to reassure her. “You fainted, cariña.”

Josh still has his fingers pressed to her carotid, his eyes on his watch. “Pulse rate is around sixty-five. How are you feeling, Ellie?”

“Tired…” She made a face. “I’m messing up my hair.”

“If she feels well enough to worry about her hair, then I feel better, too,” Paloma said, sitting down heavily in a chair close by. Mateo glanced up at her and saw that she was gesturing for Ellie’s mother to sit next to her. “You aren’t pregnant, are you, Ellie?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned pink, a welcome color. “No…”

“Ellie,” Josh said, leaning back on his heels. “When your dad gets here with my bag, I want to check your blood pressure and your sugar.”

“Okay…” Ellie sighed and reached for Mateo’s hand. “I’m okay. Don’t look so worried. I’ll be up and about soon. We have pictures to take and cake to eat.”

Mateo ran his thumb across the back of her fingers, pausing at her ring finger, where he’d just placed her wedding ring. “I love you, Ellie.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll be okay.”

A short while later, his father returned with Josh’s kit. The minister brought a throw pillow from elsewhere in the venue to put under Ellie’s feet. Mateo sat close by while Josh pricked one of her fingers and checked her blood pressure.Then he clamped a pulse oximeter onto her index finger.

“Your blood sugar is fine. Your blood pressure is low, Ellie. Eighty over fifty. Have you had low blood pressure in the past?” Josh looked from Ellie to Mateo as he removed the cuff from her arm.

They both nodded.

“I’m supposed to drink a lot of water,” Ellie said. “And exercise.”

“Sweetheart,” Rebekah piped up. “The photographer has a bottle of water for you.”

Mateo looked up and saw the kind young woman with a pixie cut they’d hired to take pictures. The photographer extended the bottle of water to him. “I’m going to take some pictures of your guests. Just let me know when you’d like me to come back in here. Feel better, Ellie.”

“I’d like some water,” Ellie said, looking at Josh. “Is it alright if I sit up?”

“Oxygen saturation at ninety-five percent… That’s technically normal. Yeah, go for it. I can help you.” Josh slid his arm under her shoulders and supported her. Ellie reached up and patted her hair as Mateo cracked open the water bottle. 

“Is it a mess?” she asked, taking the bottle from him.

“You look perfect, Ellie,” Mateo said, trying to decide if she had a little more color in her cheeks. 

Ellie cocked an eyebrow at him and took a swig of water. Josh gently retrieved his pulse ox, watching Ellie’s face for a moment before nodding. 

“Your hair looks great,” his sister, Paloma, piped up. “I can see the back; can’t tell you’ve been laying on it at all.”

Mateo smiled up at his sister. She was rubbing her belly absentmindedly as she spoke.

“You okay, babe?” Josh murmured, looking over at Paloma with a smile on his face. He was relaxing back into wedding mode now that Ellie was sitting up and talking.

“We’re fine. No worries now that Ellie is feeling better.”

Everyone looked much more relaxed. Their parents were chatting with each other, and the pastor who’d married them was filling out the marriage license. Mateo let himself sit down next to Ellie, reaching for the hand that wasn’t holding the water bottle. She took a big gulp of water and swallowed hard, her eyes amused.

“I keep trying to guzzle it so we can move along.” She squeezed Mateo’s hand. “See? Everything’s OK.”

Nearly an hour later, photos were done and a bathroom break taken, and Mateo and Ellie were in the center of the dance floor, having their first dance. She leaned against him, arms wrapped around his neck. They hadn’t choreographed anything, or taken dance lessons; they simply held each other and slowly moved to the music.

“We did it,” she murmured.

“Mmm?”

“We got married. I’m so happy.” 

The song was ending, so Mateo stopped moving. “I am, too.”

Ellie slipped her arms from around his neck and reached up to pull his head down to hers, giving him a soft kiss. Then her stomach growled.

“Let’s get our food.” Mateo grinned at her. “I’ll fend the well-wishers off until you’ve eaten.”

“Do you mind bringing me a plate?” She wrapped her arm around his. “I think I need to sit down.”

Mateo quickly steered her toward their table. “Are you feeling faint again?”

“A little.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. 

Mateo helped her into her chair, his eyes on her face. Her own eyes were darting around their small crowd of family and friends. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Mateo rubbed her shoulder. “Your mother?”

“No,” Ellie replied, sounding a little breathless. “Just hoping no one notices.”

Mateo kissed her temple. “Don’t be embarrassed, Ellie. Everyone here loves you.”

She nodded, then offered him a wobbly smile. What little color she’d regained over the hour had drained back out of her face. “I want a little of everything, please.”

“Sweetheart,” Rebekah’s mother piped up from behind Mateo. “Hugo and Alma are making your plates right now. Both of you can just sit and relax.”

Ellie reached for Mateo’s hand, smiling at her mother. “That’s kind of them, Mama.”

Mateo thought she sounded breathless, and when Rebekah moved to Ellie’s other side, he saw the older woman had a worried look on her face. “Cariña, do you need me to get Josh?”

“No,” she said. “Sit. Josh will be sitting a couple of chairs away from me soon, anyway. Mama, you go get something to eat.”

Mateo nodded at Ellie’s mother. “I’ve got her.”

He said down in the chair beside her, turning toward her and keeping hold of her hand. That’s when he noticed she had her other hand pressed to her chest. He could see it rising and falling rapidly with the shallow movement of her breathing.

“Ellie?”

She grimaced and gasped softly. Her torso tipped forward, nearly dumping her on the table.

“Ellie!” Mateo dropped her hand and grabbed her shoulder to hold her upright. Then he looked wildly around the room, looking for his brother-in-law.

Ellie let out another gasp. “Chest… hurts…”

Mateo stood, hoping to spot Josh, but Ellie clutched at him.

“I need out… of my under… garments… can’t… breathe…” Her eyes were huge and disoriented, and she swayed against him.

“Alright, it’s okay!” Mateo spotted his sister hurrying toward them. “Paloma! Where’s Josh?”

“He went to grab his bag; we could see she looked unwell from the food line.” Paloma came around the table to Ellie’s other side. “Can you breathe a little slower, Ellie? You’re going to hyperventilate and make yourself dizzy.”

“She’s having chest pains!” Mateo turned to look behind them. “She wants to go take off some of her clothes. She’s having trouble breathing.”

As he stopped speaking, Ellie went limp, sagging to the side. Mateo yelped in alarm and then stood, awkwardly holding her up while he kicked his chair back out of the way. Then he gathered her up in his arms and lifted her, a bundle of limp limbs and skirts.

The wedding planner, Malia, appeared out of nowhere and helped him lower Ellie to the floor while Paloma pulled the chair out of the way.

Family gathered around them as Mateo leaned over Ellie, his own chest aching. To his relief, her eyelids fluttered, and she took a ragged breath. “Ellie! Open your eyes!”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he heard his father say. “She doesn’t look good.”

Ellie opened her eyes. Her hands reached up to pull at the neckline of her dress. “I can’t… breathe…”

“I’ll help you, Ellie, it’s okay!” Mateo ran his hands down her sides, searching for a zipper.

“It’s in the back!” Paloma kneeled at Ellie’s other side. “Roll her toward you; I’ll unzip it and unhook her bustier!”

Mateo rolled Ellie toward him and watched as his sister unzipped the dress, then unhooked the series of small hooks running down Ellie’s back. He tipped his head to look at Ellie’s face. Her lips looked bluish, and she continued to clutch at her chest.

“We need some privacy, please!” he heard Rebekah say.

Josh ran up, dropping his bag and kneeling by Ellie’s head. 

“Got it!” Paloma said. Mateo laid Ellie on her back, and Paloma reached in to pull the bustier out from the front neckline of the dress, leaving her covered while allowing her lungs to expand fully.

Josh reached in to take Ellie’s pulse.

“Is that better, Ellie?” Mateo asked. “She says her chest hurts, and she’s having trouble breathing!”

“Papá is on the phone with 9-1-1,” Paloma said.

“She’s running about thirty beats per minute,” Josh said. “Ellie, just breathe easy for me.”

As Mateo watched, Ellie’s breathing grew more and more shallow. Josh was pulling things out of his bag and putting on gloves. He could hear his father taking with the operator. Paloma and his mother, Alma, stood close by with Ellie’s mother.

“Mat…” Ellie said, breathless. “Love you…”

“I love you, too, Ellie, but you should save your breath.” Mateo felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He had the eerie feeling that she was trying to make sure she didn’t leave anything unsaid. “An ambulance is on the way!”

“Good…” Ellie muttered, and then her eyes closed and her arms fell limp to either side.

“ELLIE! Wake up!” Mateo grasped her shoulders, shook her lightly. Josh plunged his fingers into her neck. With his other hand, he reached toward the supplies he’d laid out.

“I found the AED!” Mateo heard Malia exclaim.

“She has a pulse, Mat, but it’s slow. I’m going to help her breathe.” Josh tipped Ellie’s head back and opened her mouth. He had a plastic airway ready and slipped it between her teeth, turning it one hundred and eighty degrees before letting the flange rest on her teeth. Then called out to his father-in-law: “Hugo! Tell them she had chest pain prior to collapsing, has a pulse rate of thirty, and I am assisting her respirations.”

Josh pressed a bag-valve mask to Ellie’s pale face and squeezed the bulb, making her chest rise visibly. Mateo reached for her hand, his fingers clumsy and unpracticed as they sought the pulse in her wrist. He found it, and even he could tell her heart beat was frighteningly slow.

“Josh, what’s happening to her?” Mateo asked, his voice shaking. He could hear Rebekah sniffling and forced himself not to look up, knowing he’d be weeping as well if he saw his mother-in-law’s tears.

“Josh, the operator says the ambulance is five minutes out.” Mateo looked up at his father. His face was solemn as he crouched close by, cell phone pressed to his ear. “She wants to know if Ellie’s condition changes at all.”

The sound of furniture moving behind him made Mateo look over his shoulder. Malia and a few of the guests were moving around a set of the venue’s partitions, giving them some privacy. Then Malia hurried over. 

“Your friends Jill and Miller are outside waiting for the ambulance, and the photographer offered to help them find their way through the building. I’ll be in here with your guests if you need me.” She held out a bottle of water. “You are not looking great yourself. Have some water.”

“Thank you.” Mateo sat the water bottle down and immediately forgot it, his attention returning to Ellie. 

“Mat, I want to go ahead and put the AED pads on her. Just in case, okay? Right now, we won’t be using them, but it could save us time if that changes.” His brother-in-law kept squeezing the bag as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ve got it,” Paloma said, kneeling beside Ellie. He could see the bulge of his sister’s child rounding out her dress as she reached for the AED. “You just keep holding her hand, okay?”

Mateo cradled Ellie’s hand in his, the fingers of his other hand still monitoring her pulse. He could still feel it, but it felt weak and slow against his fingertips.

There was a brief period of near silence from the group, aside from the regular whooshing sound of the bag and the rustling as Paloma tore open a set of packaged adult bystander AED pads.

Then she reached for the wide strap of Ellie’s gown, gently pulling her arm through the hole. Mateo released Ellie’s hand long enough to do the same on the other side. Then Paloma turned the bodice of the dress down, exposing Ellie’s pale breasts and most of her abdomen. He watched his sister smooth the first pad just below Ellie’s right collarbone, then the second beneath her left breast. Ellie’s chest rose and fell as Josh squeezed the bag, though Mateo could see that Ellie was still trying to breathe on her own, her chest occasionally heaving out of sequence with the breaths from the bag.

“Don’t plug it in yet,” Josh said. “Thank you, babe.”

Paloma pulled the bodice of Ellie’s dress back up to cover her. 

Ellie’s hand moved, then her arm, the muscles contorting and pulling against him when Mateo tried to keep hold of her hand. Her other arm rose off of the floor, and he heard her gasp underneath the mask. 

“Ellie?” he asked, looking at her face. Her eyes were still closed.

Josh sat the bag down and pressed his fingers into Ellie’s neck. “Paloma, are you okay to help me? I need you to take over ventilation.”

“Yes!” Paloma shifted to the side, waiting as Josh held his fingers to Ellie’s carotid.

Then Josh moved, rushing around to Ellie’s side. “Hugo! Tell them she doesn’t have a pulse! I’m starting chest compressions now!”

Mateo watched in horror as Josh jerked the front of her gown back down to her navel and pressed his gloved hands between her breasts. He heard Rebekah let out a sob as Josh began pumping, forcing Ellie’s sternum down two inches.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

“No, Ellie…” Mateo whispered. He still had her hand, gripping it tightly. She’d gone limp again after the initial gasp. Her head tipped to the side and Paloma immediately turned it back toward the ceiling, thrusting Ellie’s chin forward and pressing the mask to her face. Ellie’s pearl earrings dangled into her hair, shaking with each compression.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…” Josh’s gloves made a noise against Ellie’s skin each time he pushed down and rocked back up, squeaking and rustling. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Squeeze, Paloma!”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Ellie’s chest rose and fell, and then Josh resumed chest compressions, making her breasts wobble and her stomach bulge. The force required to pump her heart made her body move like a rag doll, her shoulders shrugging and her feet rocking. Mateo heard air puffing back up out of her inside of the mask. Then she made a strange, growling sort of sound, accompanied by an abortive movement of her legs.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Josh shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, tossing it behind him.

Paloma squeezed the bag twice.

“One, two, three, four…” 

Mateo finally looked up. His father was pacing back and forth, still on the phone. His mother was sitting in a chair next to his mother-in-law, Alma holding Rebekah’s face against her shoulder as the other woman sobbed. As expected, the sight didn’t help him, and he blinked back tears as he looked back down at Ellie.

“…eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

“The paramedics will get her back,” Paloma said. Her voice was husky, and Mateo didn’t dare to look at her.

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

“Stay with me, Ellie,” Mateo pleaded. He held on tight to her hand. “We just got married. Please, stay with me!”

“…thirty! Mateo,” Josh said. “We will let the AED analyze after two more cycles of CPR. Then I need you to switch with me.”

Then it was time for Josh to start compressions again.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”

Mateo squeezed her hand again and then released it, laying it gently on the floor. He unbuttoned and removed his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then he removed his bowtie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt.

“…thirty!”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

“One, two, three, four, five…” Josh’s shoulders rocked over his hands, his weight pushing down into Ellie’s naked chest. 

Mateo felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and his father was there. Hugo nodded, gave his shoulder a squeeze, then released him and took a step back.

“…twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine thirty!” Josh reached across Ellie’s body for the defibrillator connector and plugged it into the AED, turning it on as Paloma squeezed the bag.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient! Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient!” Mateo held his breath, his eyes on Ellie as the device determined if she needed a shock. “No shock advised.”

He didn’t have time to deflate; Mateo bent over his wife and pressed his hands into the reddened skin between her breasts. He interlocked his fingers and started pumping, trying not to focus on the feeling of her ribcage moving under his hands. She made another gurgling, growling sound and her arms jerked.

“Don’t stop!” Josh snapped, though Mateo could tell this wasn’t Ellie coming around.

“One, two, three, four, five…” His voice was hoarse in his own ears.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” Josh said, pressing his fingers into the inside of Ellie’s wrist. “You’re doing a good job. We’re keeping oxygenated blood circulating in her body and when they get here, they can give her medications to help.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Mateo paused long enough for Paloma to give Ellie two breaths, and then he started again. “One, two, three…”

Underneath his hands, her skin felt warm and soft. Damp from his sweat and Josh’s. He was trying not to think of their wedding ceremony; every time it tried to enter his mind, he was in danger of panicking.

“…nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…” Please come back, Ellie. Please, God, please come back! “…Thirty!”

He gasped as he lifted his hands. There wasn’t any time to recover; before he knew it, Paloma had given Ellie two breaths and it was time to beat her heart for her again.

“One, two, three, four…” A small commotion near the entrance of the hall drew his attention, though he kept pushing his hands into her sternum. Malia was in view, pointing in their direction.

Two paramedics pushing a gurney walked quickly into the hall, turning the gurney as directed and heading toward the group around Ellie. Josh stood and met them halfway, walking back with them.

“Thirty!” Paloma, holding the mask firmly to Ellie’s face, squeezed the bag twice. “One, two, three, four…”

“…bradycardic, then she stopped making respiratory effort, and she lost a palpable pulse. We’re in the middle of the second round of CPR; no shock was advised by the AED.” Josh stood next to Ellie as the paramedics unloaded equipment and bags. “Her name is Ellie. She’s been experiencing low blood pressure and a low heart rate recently. She had a previous cardiac arrest due to drowning, but we were told she had fully recovered. This is her next of kin, her husband Mateo.”

Whoosh, whoosh!

“One, two, three, four, five…”

A stocky woman with her hair in a neat bun kneeled on the floor next to Ellie. “Okay, sir. Mateo. I’m going to check Ellie’s pulse and we will take over. You’ve done a good job; you can stop.”

Mateo raised his hands, and the woman pressed two of her fingers into Ellie’s delicate neck. 

“Josh,” the tall, male paramedic said. “Take over the bag for me. I’m going to get her on the monitor.”

Mateo, realizing he was about to be in the way, snatched up Ellie’s limp hand and pressed a kiss to her cool palm. “I love you!” His voice came out gruff and harsh, and he laid her hand back down. Then he pushed himself up off the floor and took a few weak-kneed steps over to his chair.

He might have sat on his tux jacket, but he was on autopilot at that point and picked it up, shaking out the wrinkles and draping it over the back of the chair. Then he dropped into the chair and clasped his shaking hands together in his lap.

He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder again, and then Paloma pulled a chair over to sit with him, one hand covering his and the other on her belly.

Mateo swallowed hard and asked Paloma: “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. “And Ellie will be.”

He looked down at Ellie. They’d peeled off the AED pads and replaced them with large pads. Whatever the paramedics saw wasn’t good; they didn’t shock her. The male medic pulled Ellie’s arm to the side, tied off a tourniquet, and cleaned the crook of her elbow. 

Josh kneeled at Ellie’s head, bracing it against the movement of her body, the mask pressed to her face. The female paramedic paused compressions and Josh squeezed the bag twice, watching Ellie’s chest rise. Then the paramedic resumed compressions. She was still moving occasionally, her knee bending or her throat forcing out an unnatural sound.

“Administering one milligram epinephrine and flushing.” The male medic emptied a syringe into Ellie’s IV, followed by a second syringe. Then he elevated her arm. “Analyze in ninety seconds.”

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“Is everyone still here?” Mateo asked, suddenly thinking of their extended family and friends lingering on the other side of the partition.

“Yes, mijo. The planner moved everyone into the space where we had the ceremony, and the minister is with them.” Hugo squeezed his shoulder. “Everyone is praying for our Ellie.”

“Gracias.” Mateo leaned forward. The paramedics were working quickly, one performing hard and rapid compressions, while the other took her blood pressure. 

“She’s hypotensive. Treatment is IV bolus and vasopressin infusion. Josh and Genesis, switch after analysis.” 

“…five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

Ellie looked worse, he thought. Her arms splayed out on either side, and her skin was a terrible color. As Mateo watched, the male paramedic prepared what looked like a bag of saline. Josh had his fingers lapped over her chin, keeping her jaw in place and her airway open. Her breasts wobbled with each compression, her nipples pebbling in the air conditioning. The hands on her sternum were relentless, her ribcage bobbing and her abdomen pulsing with each thrust. 

“…thirty!” 

Josh squeezed the bag twice, and then Genesis the medic resumed compressions.

“One, two, three…”

“Sir?” the male medic asked, looking at Hugo as he held out the bag of saline. “I need you to hold this bag for me. Keep it at this level.”

“Of course!” Hugo stepped forward and took the saline bag, making sure he kept it raised without pulling on the attached tubing. Mateo leaned forward, bringing his fists up to his mouth. Paloma rubbed his back, murmuring something that he didn’t catch.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Genesis sat back on her heels, breathing hard as the male medic looked at the monitor. 

As he reached over to silence the alarm, Genesis and Josh switched places. “No change,” the medic said. “Still in PEA arrest… Two minutes of CPR.”

“Come on, Ellie,” Josh growled as he started compressions. “Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…”

“Ventilate every six seconds, Genesis. Her sat is holding steady,” the medic said. In the time that it took them to switch places, Ellie’s head had tipped to the side. Her features were slack, and she still looked pale. The oral airway jutted out from between her teeth.

Genesis tipped Ellie’s face back toward the ceiling, and quickly but carefully reopened her airway.

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

Genesis pressed the mask over Ellie’s nose and mouth, and when Josh hit “thirty,” she gave Ellie two breaths.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Mateo saw movement across from him and realized his mother was helping Rebekah out of her chair. Alma supported her as they hurried back toward the bathrooms.

“Is Rebekah okay?” Mateo asked. He felt numb and ragged, but he liked and respected Rebekah, and could only imagine how she was feeling. He also had a responsibility to Ellie’s family that he’d sealed today with a ring and a kiss. “Beyond the obvious…”

“I think Rebekah was about to vomit,” Hugo said. “You don’t have to worry about her, Mateo. Your mother has her.”

“Dad…” Mateo didn’t know what he wanted to say. The resuscitation efforts on Ellie continued. She was such a slim, fine-boned person, and the last time she’d been resuscitated, she’d taken a long time to recover. Part of that had been the head injury, but watching them work on her now was painful. Josh’s hands dwarfed her chest, and two inches looked like a lot on her slim frame.

Hugo reached back with his free hand, palm up. Mateo blinked at it for a few seconds before he reached out and clasped his father’s hand. Hugo nodded and squeezed his hand, his eyes on Ellie.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…” 

Next to him, he heard Paloma sniffle. He couldn’t look at her, but he held out his other hand, and she took it and leaned her head against his shoulder. Then she whispered: “I’m so sorry, Mat.”

“Don’t. Don’t be, please.” He was shaking again.

“Thirty!” Josh shook out his arms and Genesis made Ellie’s chest rise and fall. Then Josh bent back to his work. “One, two, three…”

“We analyze after this cycle,” the other medic said. “Then I’ll administer epinephrine and Genesis and Josh will swap.”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Josh leaned back, breathing hard and watching as Genesis gave Ellie two breaths. Then Genesis disconnected the bag and sat it to the side before switching places with Josh.

“V-fib!” the male medic called out. Josh’s head whipped up, and Mateo felt his own heart rate increase. “Charging to three-sixty!”

Genesis leaned in and gave Ellie a series of quick and deep compressions, popping her stomach up with each thrust.

Mateo gripped his father’s hand too hard and struggled not to do the same to Paloma. 

“Everyone clear!” the medic called out. Josh and Genesis raised their hands, leaning back. “Administering shock.”

Ellie’s chest gave a little jerk, making her head tip to the side and her arms flinch. Genesis clasped her hands together and began pumping rapidly between Ellie’s breasts.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…”

“Administering one milligram epinephrine,” the medic said, following the first syringe with a second. “Flushing…”

As before, he raised her arm for twenty seconds.

“Thirty!” Genesis said. Josh had already turned Ellie’s face upright and pressed the mask to her face. He squeezed the bag twice, his eyes drifting up to look at Mateo. 

Mateo would never know what Josh was going to say or do, if anything, because he flinched, looking shocked before he looked down again, lifting the mask and asking: “Ellie?”

“What do you have?” asked the medic. Genesis put her hands back between Ellie’s breasts and started pumping, only for Ellie to let out a wheezing gasp and jerk her arms. Mateo lunged forward, releasing the hands he was holding and crouching on the floor by her feet.

“Pause compressions!” the medic said.

“Ellie!” Mateo called out. 

Ellie’s chest heaved, and her hands grasped at the air. Josh pressed two fingers into her neck.

“She’s got a pulse!” he exclaimed. “Slow, but it’s there.”

Mateo heard Ellie gag, and Josh quickly removed the oral airway.

“Sinus rhythm,” the medic said. “Genesis, look at those P waves…”

Genesis leaned over Ellie, looking at the monitor. “Twelve lead?”

“Ellie.” Josh gently patted the side of Ellie’s face. “Ellie, it’s Josh! Mateo is here. Everyone’s here.”

“Do it,” the tall medic said. “I’m going to administer one milligram atropine.”

Mateo was making himself listen to the conversation between the paramedics, but his eyes were on Ellie’s chest, which was rising and falling visibly, at almost a regular rate.

“Pacing?” Genesis asked, getting up and heading for the bags of equipment and supplies.

“Let’s see how she does with the atropine,” the male medic said. “She’s at forty at the moment. Josh, how’s her breathing?”

“Fast, but it’s all her!” Josh was struggling to maintain his professionalism, visibly relieved. He smoothed her hair back from her face, his expression paternal, and called out: “Ellie?” 

“I’m going to tell Mamá and Rebekah,” Paloma said, hurrying by. “Poor Rebekah doesn’t know!”

Mateo reached out toward Ellie, his hand finding her bare ankle under her skirts. “Respira, cariña. Sólo respira.”

Two days later

“I’ll be close by,” the nurse said. “She should wake up any minute. The sedative took her for a bit of a ride.”

Mateo sat at Ellie’s bedside, her cool hand tucked between his two. Wan, with her curly hair pulled back from her face and a nasal cannula feeding her oxygen, she looked fragile. 

Reaching out, Mateo ran his fingertips across her face, tracing lines from freckle to freckle. Ellie stirred, wrinkling her nose and making a small, distressed sound. Mateo brushed a loose curl back behind her ear.

“Cariña. Wake up, it’s me.” 

Ellie yawned, too drowsy from the sedation to cover her mouth. Her head lolled from side to side and her legs moved beneath the covers. Her fingers moved, tightening on his hand. Finally, Ellie peeled open her eyes and looked around the room. Her gaze settled on Mateo, and she blinked at him several times. 

Then, as he watched, her face broke into a wide smile.

“Good to see you, too,” he said, keeping hold of her hand as he stood up. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you…” Ellie breathed, yawning again. “Did they… do it? I fell… asleep.”

“The sedation knocked you out,” Mateo said. “But the pacemaker insertion was a success. You might be able to go home in a couple of days.”

“Good.” Ellie’s eyelids slowly fluttered. “I’m sleepy, Mat…”

“I know, it’s okay.” Mateo squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here. The nurse will come back to talk to you, but for now, you can rest.”

Ellie rolled toward him, curling onto her side. He watched her breathe, in and out, slow and deep as she dozed off.

[jae-bummer]

My Idol 3: Part Twenty

My Idol from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Saturday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in a specific mission to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what four idols will move on to the second date.

My Idol 3: The Series

.

You imagined from Jinyoung's perspective; you looked a bit like a fish gasping for air. Opening your mouth only to close it again when no words came, you grappled with what to do.

Pulling himself up into a much less seductive position, (albeit still hot - it was THE Park Jinyoung after all) he patted the bed lightly beside him and smiled. "Sit."

Your brain instantly obeyed, dropping your body like dead weight beside his.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here with me," Jinyoung smiled easily. "And not Jack-"

"Y/N!" a familiar, gravelly voice called as it came hurtling into the room.

Belly-flopping into both you and Jinyoung's laps, Jackson splayed across your thighs, a wide smile on his face.

"Yah," Jinyoung groaned, immediately pushing the older man's legs away, causing Jackson to roll toward the ground. "You didn't even let me get to the buildup."

Plopping unceremoniously onto the hard wood floor, Jackson winced. "I was excited."

"Evidently," Jinyoung grumbled, shaking his head.

Trying to hide your amusement, you watched as Jackson crawled back toward the bed. Pulling himself to his knees, he set his arms gently across your legs and smiled up at you. "Hello, gorgeous."

"And it begins!" Jinyoung groaned. "I couldn't even flirt for five minutes without you ruining it."

"It's my date," Jackson bickered back. "Why should I let you flirt with them?"

"Because," Jinyoung said softly. Turning toward you, he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Biting his lip slowly, he let it pop out from his teeth before smiling. "I'm good at it."

His methods were much more efficient than you had anticipated, causing your soul to leave your body before slamming back into it again. What in the Wattpad was that?

"So am I!" Jackson whined. "Y/N, tell him how much I romanced you on our first date."

"Oh yeah," you nodded, still struggling to get your bearings. "So much romance. Very...wow."

Jackson rolled his eyes as Jinyoung cackled.

"Jinyoung's obvious jealousy aside," Jackson sighed. "Are you ready for the best slumber party ever?"

"I'm going to own Season 4 when they draft me for this show," Jinyoung pouted. "Mark my words."

"Who came up with the idea for a slumber party?" you asked, noting how very themed it was. You hadn't noticed it when you walked in, but there were three sleeping bags rolled up and set at the head of the bed, each with their own signature 90's cartoon character. The fairy lights you had thought came default in the room were actually haphazardly strung Christmas lights. There were also even more snacks spread out on the bedside tables.

"Me," Jinyoung and Jackson said in unison, only to turn on each other. "You?!"

"I've always wanted to have a good, old-fashioned y2k slumber party," Jackson challenged. "I trained a lot as a kid and didn't have time to do fun stuff like this."

"You may have always wanted to do it," Jinyoung countered. "But I was the one who suggested it."

Narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, Jackson gave a small nod in acknowledgement. "Okay, maybe I remember that."

Watching the two of them bicker back and forth was one of the purest forms of entertainment you had had in a while.

"Why don't we get started on some snacks?" Jackson continued cheerfully, springing from his spot on the floor. Grabbing you by the wrist, he dragged you through the camera men and back into the seating area. "Pick your poison."

Your eyes weren't sure where to land first. Every Korean chip and candy that you were familiar with was clustered on the tabletop. There were even snacks from your home country, which was a special surprise.

You glanced up to Jackson who was busy watching you. "Pick for me?"

A slow smile spread across his lips as he began to nod. "How about this," he hummed, putting a bag of shrimp chips in one hand. "And this to balance it out." He placed Lotte chocolate in the opposite hand. "Go sit and I'll grab us all some drinks."

Doing as you were told, you waddled with your snacks (you had admittedly grabbed one or two more) and cuddled up on the sofa.

Jinyoung followed behind, a bag of seaweed snacks in his hand as he dropped heavily in one of the accent chairs. "I have to ask, Y/N. What are your intentions with my friend?"

A shit eating grin spread across his face as you heard Jackson bark laugh from the kitchenette.

You snorted softly with amusement. It was incredibly clear how important Jackson and Jinyoung were to each other, so even though Jinyoung was phrasing it in a joking manner, there was a hint of seriousness behind the question.

"I have only good intentions," you said carefully. "While not every choice has been my own, I'm really valuing the time that I've spent with Jackson, and I look forward to getting to know him better."

"What a diplomatic answer," Jinyoung hummed. "Do you think you have a handle on his personality from what you've seen so far?"

"Maybe a certain side of it," you nodded. "He's very caring, especially when it comes to his family, both found and biological."

You watched Jinyoung's lips twitch at that. The way you saw it, Got7 was the family that Jackson got to choose, and he was all the better for it.

"He's got a fiery side to him," you continued. "But in different ways. He's fiery in his passion for what he's doing and, in his communication, to get his point across. He's also fiery in a simmering sense."

"Do tell."

You felt your cheeks grow warm. "Well, he has no issue conveying what he wants emotionally...or physically."

"Physically?" Jinyoung coughed, wide-eyed.

"Calm down," Jackson chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your head before handing a drink to his member. "I tried to kiss them. No big deal."

"But I'm guessing he was very clear while trying to do that," Jinyoung finished, gladly accepting the bottle he was offered.

"It's important to be clear," Jackson nodded, taking a seat beside you. "I never want to pressure someone into something they don't want."

"Which brings me to my next point," you smiled. "He's both nice and kind. He's nice while other people are around, and very respectful. But in private, he's extremely kind. It's in his words and actions that not everyone gets to see. He doesn't need to prove that side of himself to anyone. He just gives it freely."

"Well said," Jinyoung agreed.

Jackson let out a chirp of approval, a cheesy smile on his face. "I could listen to you two talk about me all day."

"Which means we should stop immediately," Jinyoung laughed.

"No, no," you interrupted. "I want you to tell me about him. From a friend's perspective."

Jinyoung took a deep breath before leaning all the way back in his seat. He eyed his friend wearily.

"I met Jackson on his very first day in Korea," Jinyoung started. "I asked one of the managers if he was an actor from Hong Kong because he was so handsome."

Jackson beamed as he slapped the air. "You are a good flirt."

Jinyoung smiled before shaking his head. "We went out to a restaurant and started to get to know each other. I liked him from the very beginning. He was just so free. I know we all see this side of him that's so bright and clever, but really, he's one of the calmest people in private. He's a grounding force."

"Someone has to be," Jackson chuckled. "Half of you have the worst tempers."

Ignoring that barb, Jinyoung continued. "I like to say that he's my teacher of life. He tells me all the time that I can do anything. You'll find with this career that a lot of people will say that, but with him, you actually believe it. He has so much faith in you that you start having faith in yourself."

"Needless to say," Jackson said, emotion clear in his voice. "We're friends for life."

"We are," Jinyoung agreed.

"He's a true-hearted friend," Jackson nodded. "I know this wasn't a question about him, but in fifty or sixty years, I think we'll still be spending time together."

"Little old men," Jinyoung laughed. "Pop, locking, and dropping it."

"I hope I'm there to see it," you smiled.

"Me too," Jackson hummed, wiggling his brows. "Cause that'll mean I won."

"Not necessarily," Jinyoung said, waving a finger. "You could just be friends."

"Okay, that's fair," Jackson agreed. "If I didn't get another option, I think I'd be happy with that too."

"Thanks," you grinned. "Hopefully you'll have a high opinion of me someday as well. Hearing you two talk about each other is adorable."

"Adorable," Jinyoung scoffed. "Please don't tell another living soul."

"I hate to break it to you," Jackson whispered. "But there's been cameras recording this whole time."

Jinyoung sprung forward, clutching his chest as he gasped. "How was I supposed to know?! I should have charged a higher price to say all of that."

Jackson giggled. "Before my friend here makes me pay a compliment tax, why don't we play a game?"

"Sure," you agreed easily. "What did you have in mind?"

"Weeeell," he sang. "It wouldn't be a real slumber party without a game of truth or dare, would it?"

You shuttered internally. While you hadn't been to an abundance of sleepovers in your day, you had been forced into truth or dare more than once. The game could go one of two ways; one, incredibly boring because everyone chooses truth, or two, grow out of control as people try to out-dare each other. Judging your company, you were leaning toward the latter.

"Alright Y/N," Jinyoung said, mischievousness dancing across his features. "Truth or dare?"

You sighed, knowing that picking truth would be a cop out, but didn't want to commit to whatever twisted dare these two could come up with. "Truth."

"What's your worst fear?" Jinyoung asked. "Specifically, about this show?"

You weren't sure what kind of question you had been expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. Jinyoung had pin-pointed the exact thing that could instantly turn your brain to mush. You tried to tread water in the sea of problems that My Idol presented. Due to recent events, one of your newest fears was that you or one of the guys would get injured. Some of them already had and that was pain enough. The thought that it could get worse wasn't a line that you wanted to cross right now. No, you'd choose to ignore the chaos of the security issues and go with something that had been one of your fears when the show started.

"I'm afraid that I'll fall in love with more than one person," you admitted. "And that I'll have to break their heart and my own to make a decision."

Jackson's hand quickly found yours and gave it a soft squeeze. "You're not in an enviable position."

"Everyone thinks dating idols is all fun and games until you actually like them," Jinyoung smirked. "I think that's an easy fear to understand. Do you think it's possible to fall in love with more than one person at a time?"

"Hey, hey," Jackson said. "Only one question per truth."

"It's okay," you chuckled. "I didn't think so before I started this show, but now that I'm in it... It's starting to become a worry."

Jinyoung nodded. "I'm sure it'll all turn out fine. You just have to love Jackson best."

You let out a surprised laugh. "I'll see what I can do."

"Jinyoungie," Jackson cooed. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," the man across from you said confidently.

"I dare you to go to our neighbors across the hall," Jackson grinned. "And ask them to have a dance party with you."

"In the hall?" Jinyoung winced.

"In the hall," Jackson confirmed.

"Isn't that a little much?" Jinyoung whined. "They're just people minding their own business. What if-"

"You could choose truth," Jackson teased. "If you're a... chicken."

Jinyoung's expression smoothed before quirking a brow. "I'm not a chicken."

"I dunno," you said, joining in on the fun. "Sounds suspiciously like something a chicken would say."

"God, you two are made for each other," Jinyoung grumbled, pushing out of his seat. "Where's the speaker?"

And that was how you and Jackson stood behind Jinyoung as he spun what had to have been an 80-year-old woman to the sweet sounds of JJ Project's Bounce (Jackson's request).

"That was cruel and unusual punishment," Jinyoung whined, plopping back into his chair.

You and Jackson dissolved into a fit of giggles as you both fell onto the couch.

"This has to be the best day of my life," Jackson cackled. "Why did she try to give you money after?"

"Did she think it was a service?" you gasped between peals of laughter. "That she was tipping you?"

"Oh god," Jinyoung groaned. "She kept trying to tuck it into my sweater pocket. And when I refused, she put a finger up to my lips to shush me."

The visual was enough to cause you and Jackson to laugh even harder.

'Okay, enough!" Jinyoung pleaded. "Jackson, please, truth or dare?"

"This isn't about me!" Jackson screeched. "This about you and your Host business!"

"Truth or dare," Jinyoung repeated through his fingers now covering his face.

"Dare, obviously," Jackson said, finally letting his laughter wind down.

"I dare you to jump into the pool," Jinyoung said, lifting his hands to shoot a pointed look at his member. "With all your clothes on."

"Now where's the fun in that," Jackson said, giving you a quick wink. "Let's do it."

Following your two dates dutifully outside, you stood beside Jinyoung and waited. The night air had gotten a bit chilly, but the pool seemed to be heated. Getting in didn't sound like a totally bad idea.

Crossing your arms, you watched as Jackson made sure the sliding door leading to the deck was as open as possible. Picking the seating area as his starting point, he began a full sprint out of the door and toward the pool. Just as he shouted something you couldn't make out, you were scooped into the air as well, quickly plummeting toward the water.

"Jackson!" you squealed seconds before your head went under. You moved your legs frantically underneath you until your toes touched the tiles at the bottom. Giving a solid push off, you broke through the surface and gasped for air.

"I have you; I have you," Jackson cooed, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you toward him.

"You certainly do not have me!" you shouted, smacking at his chest. "What the hell, Jackson?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he winced. "Maybe not?"

"Absolutely not!" you groaned. "I didn't bring a change of clothes, you absolute turd."

Despite the insult, Jackson grinned. "But I got us all matching pajamas."

"Of course, you did," you sighed, shaking your head. While your irritation was slowly starting to burn away, you tried to calm yourself even further. Jackson seemed to recognize that taking you with him may not have been the best decision, but you could live in the moment. Who could say that they ever got to experience something like this? "At least the pool is warm."

"I definitely wouldn't have taken you in if it wasn't," Jackson nodded. Sticking out his bottom lip, he said quietly, "I'm sorry if what I did made you upset though. Sometimes I just don't think."

Sighing, you ran your fingers over the plains of Jackson's face, wiping the water away as you went. "You were just trying to have fun."

"But I should have considered how you felt," Jackson nodded. "Just because I'm trying to have fun doesn't mean I have to pull you into it. Literally."

"Valid," you said, your heart melting as he offered up genuine apologies. "I forgive you."

"Good," he smiled. Turning away from you, he shouted at Jinyoung who was still hovering at the water's edge. "Jinyoung-ah! Get in here!"

"Are you kidding?" Jinyoung called back. "This sweater is cashmere!"

"Party pooper!"

"Nag!"

"I can tell you two really love each other," you chuckled, watching Jinyoung's retreating frame as it went back inside.

"Oh, I'm convinced he can't stand me sometimes," Jackson laughed. "But we're like brothers. We've been there for each other through some of the toughest moments of our lives... do you have friends like that?"

"I do," you nodded, letting Jackson glide around the pool with you in his arms. You tried to ignore the way the water had taken up residence in his collarbone, or how his shirt was now nearly see-through, clenching his chest as if it were painted on.

"What do they think about you doing the show?" he asked, finally stopping as he pressed your back against the side of the pool.

"Well, one of them also applied," you chuckled. "We both kind of did it as a joke. It's one of those things where you never think you would make it."

"But then you did," he smiled.

"Then I did," you sighed. "I haven't been able to talk to them as much as I usually do...and obviously I can't go out with them, but they're supportive when they can be. They send me a lot of food deliveries."

"if that's not the makings of a true friend, I don't know what is," Jackson mused. "What do you think they would say about you if they were here?"

"Curious about me?" you teased. His body was so close now, you couldn't help but have flashbacks of your first date. Just like it did in the hallway, having him only inches away made you feel slightly off balance. You hadn't had a single drop of liquor tonight, but you could have sworn you were intoxicated.

"Always," he said quietly. "I obviously don't know them...but what I've seen is someone brave. I see someone who willingly gives while the world takes. I see someone who can stand to be protected even though they think they need to protect everyone else."

"If only I could," you whispered. "But I think they would say something similar? Or at least I hope they would. I don't necessarily have the highest opinion of myself, but they seem to for whatever reason."

"Well, go on," he urged with another one of his flawless grins.

"They'd probably say I'm a nerd," you thought out loud. "That I read too much, eat too little, and stress about everything. I've been trying to do better with that by the way, but this competition makes it difficult."

"I think a healthy amount of stress is okay," Jackson nodded. "It drives you forward. It becomes a problem when it holds you back."

"Man, Jinyoung really got that spot on with the life teacher comment, didn't he?"

Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. "I think of him the same way though. I think we've both just lived so much life for our few years that it's natural for us to see things a different way."

"That makes sense," you hummed. "You had to grow up fast in a lot of ways."

"Maybe," he shrugged, adjusting his hold on you to circle around your waist. You couldn't help the small shiver that ran down your spine. "I think our generation sees a lot of that in general."

Allowing the conversation to lapse into a comfortable silence, you were hesitant to speak again. "Were you happy it was me?"

Jackson eyed you, amusement clear on his face. "Well, I didn't have much choice, now did I?"

You laughed, immediately feeling foolish. "I guess not."

"But to answer your question, I am so excited it was you. I don't know any different, but I wouldn't want to."

You nodded, trying to take both him and his words in. Before meeting Jackson, you had never really anticipated his introspective side. He was such a blast of energy and passion that it was easy for his quiet moments to get lost. The time you were sharing now felt incredibly special, despite having a boom mic hovering a few inches over your head.

Turning your eyes to Jackson's, you weren't surprised to see him watching you back. A layer of steam was starting to congregate just above the heated water, making the moment all the more dream-like.

"I think now would be a good time to say, I like you, Y/N," he said quietly, separating the space between you to rest his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath and blew it out of his nostrils.

"I like you too," you said easily. Probably too much considering it was only your second date.

"Am I...am I allowed to kiss you this time?" he asked, not bothering to look up. His forehead remained still against yours, his eyes closed.

"I dunno," you said, slowly turning it over in your mind. "What would you do if I said no?"

"Try again next time."

"What if there is no next time?" you whispered.

This caused his eyes to pop open. "Then I guess I'll have to get creative."

Smiling to yourself, you tried to really think it through. You were worried that kissing Chan had set a certain precedent, but you shouldn't even factor that in. Jackson was his own independent person that you were building a different relationship with. This one was just as amazing, just as much of a whirlwind. There was no denying your attraction to him, both physically and mentally. If you had met outside of the show, you were pretty certain you would have let him kiss you on the first date.

You licked your lips before deciding to make the first move. You wanted to catch him off guard just this once.

In a swift motion, you caught his mouth with yours, wrapping your arms tightly behind his neck in the process. You let your fingers rove through the back of his hair, tugging gently as he moved to get a better vantage. He let go of your waist, pressing you further into the wall, and moving his hands to rest on the lip of the pool. All boxed in, he leveraged the space by pressing his lips roughly against yours, breathing heavily through his nose as he captured your mouth again and again.

You could easily die in his arms, kissing him forever. He conveyed so much in one small motion, it was difficult to get all of your nerve endings working succinctly. He was such a shock to the system, you could feel the kiss all the way down to your toes and at the ends of your fingertips.

Dragging one hand from the back of his scalp to rest on his collarbone, you gradually reached up to grip his chin. Ever so slowly you began to push his face away from yours. His mouth continued to fight forward, causing you to giggle.

"Jackson," you said breathlessly.

"More," he groaned.

"We're going to get pruney," you protested. Really, you were scared of allowing things to go even further, especially with cameras lingering nearby. You knew he would never take things too far, but you also did not want to arm the My Idol crew with an hour's worth of footage of the two of you making out.

"I'll live my life happily as a raisin."

"While you would be the most handsome raisin in all the land," you continued. "We should get out."

Motioning to the cameras with your eyes, Jackson finally caught on. Groaning, he moved his body away from yours and started swimming toward the steps.

After you had both gotten out and toweled off to the best of your ability, you were given a colorful pair of pajamas to change into. The pants were a lime green plaid and the top had a small green bird on it, your name stitched underneath.

"The monograms were a nice touch," Jinyoung said lazily from his spot in the corner of the couch. He had a fluffy, bow headband on and several pimple patches covering what you thought was already flawless skin.

"Only the best for the best," Jackson grinned. Handing you a sheet mask, he moved to lay down on the sofa, resting his head on your lap. "Can you put this on for me?"

"How can I say no when you've already gotten so comfy?" you chuckled, pushing his hair back from his face. Your date hummed happily as you pulled the mask over his skin, flattening it out and smoothing in all of the serum. By the time you were finished, you looked up to find Jinyoung asleep, one of his under eye patches sliding slowly down his face. Judging by his fluttering eyes, Jackson wasn't far behind.

"Do you want to get in the bed?" you asked softly. Wedged between you and Jinyoung, he couldn't be comfortable.

"No," he grumbled. "Do you want to get in the bed?"

You looked longingly toward the main part of the suite. The option did seem incredibly nice after another long day.

"I'm fine here," you decided. If he didn't want to move, you didn't want to disturb him.

"Okay," Jackson whispered. "I'm okay with wherever you want to go...just as long as you stay."

You tried to combat the fuzzy feeling spreading warmly across your chest. He was so soft and beautiful in this moment. You didn't have the words to describe how it made you feel.

Just as his breathing finally began to even out, you heard a steady knock on the door.

"Y/N?" Insu called lightly through the barrier. "We've got a problem."

.

[soncfthewitch]

closed starter for @tigerincahoots

The last, wet gurgle faded as he twisted the blade, feeling the resistance give way. The batarian's eyes widened, shock and pain flickering before dulling. He slid the blade free from the throat, the warm and sticky blood coating his hand. Just another sodding mess to clean up. Omega was full of them—dimly lit backrooms splattered with what was left of dodgy dealings turned deadly.

He looked over the room, cold eyes taking in the bodies scattered across the floor through the tinted visor of his Phantom suit. Five dead—the aftermath of a swift, brutal ambush. One still clutched his rifle, finger frozen on the trigger, armor bearing the scorch marks where his own panicked spray of bullets had ricocheted off the assassin's barrier.

Another sprawled near an overturned table, throat precisely opened where the cloaked blade had caught him mid-turn, his shotgun discharged uselessly into the ceiling. The krogan mercenary had taken three direct hits from the palm blaster before going down, his redundant nervous system finally overloaded by the concentrated dark energy bursts. Two turian veterans lay crumpled where they'd tried to flank—their military training had almost been enough. Almost.

The batarian enforcer had been the last to fall, the closest to raising the alarm. He'd managed to spot the telltale shimmer of the tactical cloak, but recognition came too late to save him.

The room told the story in vivid detail: scorch marks traced erratic patterns on the walls from panicked shots, chairs thrown aside in desperate attempts at cover, datapads crushed under scrambling boots. The acrid smell of ozone from mass effect fields lingered beneath the copper tang of blood. His tactical cloak and modified Phantom loadout had given him the crucial advantage—they never saw him coming until it was too late. Just another example of why Cerberus invested so heavily in their assassination programs.

His hand twitched. A flicker of—what? Confusion? He flexed his fingers, pushing the fleeting sensation aside. The headaches were getting worse, but now wasn't the time. The mission came first. Cerberus had hardwired that priority into him, even if he couldn't quite remember how.

Focus, mate. Gotta stage this right.

He moved methodically, dragging the corpses into the shadows. Couldn't have the target stroll in and spook. It needed to look like business as usual—just another routine meeting. A few empty chairs, a bottle on the table, half-finished cigars in the ashtray. Everything needed to scream normal, right up until it wasn't.

The buzz of his comm snapped him back. “Sitrep, Agent Shishi.”

“Room's clear,” he said, voice crackling through the helmet’s modulator. He adjusted his stance, back straightening. “Ready to bag the package.”

“Affirmative. Maintain position. Target inbound, ETA five minutes.”

Five minutes. He checked the palm blaster—full charge. Blue-white energy rippled across the emitters built into his gauntlet, the weapon humming softly as the capacitors cycled. Plenty of time, still, to find the best angle. His visor flickered, tactical grids overlaying his vision: structural weak points, ricochet paths, estimated target trajectory. It painted the kill shot in clean lines, and every movement was calculated.

A textbook assassination. Just like old times.

But something gnawed at the back of his mind. The face in the mission dossier... it seemed familiar. The name, too. Kevin Deaver. It tugged at his memory. Something deep and unsettling. Recognition crawled under his skin. An itch he couldn't scratch.

The door lock chirped, the panel shifting from red to green. He tensed, breath slowing, falling into the rhythm Cerberus had drilled into him. In, out, in... hold. The door slid open. Showtime.

He moved swiftly, armor melding into the darkness, tech embedded in his suit flickering softly like embers in the dark. The palm blaster barked twice, the flashes briefly igniting the room's edges, casting jagged shadows. Two shots, precise and lethal, the shockwaves pressing against his ears, leaving a sharp ringing in their wake.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 23, 1973

Still dark out when he drives to the airport in the morning. Still shaking a little. Still feeling kinda sick.

The radio still set to the rock station.

It’s drizzling a little bit as he drives over the empty roads. He shuts the radio off, too anxious to listen to it, but the silence is worse. He makes it five minutes before turning it back on. Gimme Danger by The Stooges is on; he remembers this song blasting out of Jeff and Connie’s record player when it came out. It reminds him of Jeff’s teeth dragging across his jaw, and the scratch of his stubble.

All warm and messy and real but feels like forever ago. Maybe it was last spring, but Daniel feels like it was another lifetime.

Not like Louis’s teeth. Not like Armand’s.

He shudders and reaches to switch to the 8-track, but there's no tape. 

Well. Whatever. He floors it and hopes the trip will go faster.

His eyes burn from sleep deprivation as he pulls into the long term parking. There’s this impulse to throw his car keys as far as he can, or just leave them inside. And if he still felt like a person he thinks this might make him sad.

Saved up his whole senior year for this car. Drove it all the way to California. She was good to him.

He doesn’t know how long a car can sit here before they tow it. He imagines her covered in dust, rinsed in the rain, over and over until she rusts. Maybe they’ll tow if they notice the tags expire. Maybe someone will tell his parents. How long before someone looks for him, and tracks him here? How long before someone thinks to check the airport?

The metal of the hood is warm beneath his hands. He drags his fingertips across her as he walks away, knowing he’ll never see her again. 

No room for being sentimental, though. Not for things like cars. He feels the pull of the city more than he feels his car as he crosses the parking lot. Leaving Lestat hurts more. 

But maybe this is temporary. He can come back. Or he can find someone else. He’ll figure it out. Right now it’s just important to get somewhere safe. The thought makes him walk faster. Not safe out here, not yet. Still dark out, and what if Armand thinks to come here for him? Daniel won’t survive if he gets put in that room again.

No one’s really around yet. He slips his hand into the outside pocket of his bag and and squeezes around the cash that Armand left him. Maybe that’s part of the game, too, to see how far this much money gets him. He’d been too freaked out to count it, but it should be enough to go… 

Anywhere.

Well, Daniel isn’t picky. There’s a single check-in desk open and he’ll just pick the first flight. Doesn’t care where it goes, as long as it’s far enough away. He runs his hands through his hair as he approaches, tries to breathe, tries to act normal. 

She looks tired, too, though. Not even 5am yet. She doesn’t care that he doesn’t know where he’s going. Lisbon, sure. That works. Not departing for a few more hours but that’s fine. He clutches the ticket to his chest as he wanders around for the gate.

He tucks himself into a corner in the waiting area, sitting on the floor. This way he can see all around him, no one to sneak up from behind. Eyes still burning as he watches all the lights outside the huge windows, but he tries to stay awake even as his body begs. If he can at least make it until the sun comes up…

Other people are arriving by then, though. It feels worse, almost, having people around. Reminds him how isolated he is. But it’s okay. It feels safer, too. He waits until he can see the sun rising over the horizon before he’s brave enough to get off the floor and wander around the concourse. 

He gets a pack of cigarettes from the snack shop. Considers a coffee, but isn’t sure his stomach will be able to handle it just yet. Too fragile, still. A bottle of juice, instead, and an overpriced muffin, and then he goes back to his corner. Stares at the sun until his eyes hurt, and lights his cigarette, and picks at the muffin.

Armand said that Louis was telling the truth, but he wonders if they’re both lying. If it’s stupid to feel safe in the daylight. Wonders if he’ll ever feel safe again, actually.

He’s shaking again when they finally call to board the plane. It’s more than anxiety, though, he just still feels so sick. Wants to sleep. Out of breath just from the walk to the plane, and ready to cry as he sinks into his seat. He wedges himself against the wall and smokes a cigarette while he waits, still watching the sun outside, tapping his foot. 

It’s been a long night. A long… whatever. Still not sure how long he was gone. His eyelids are heavy and his stomach hurts, the muffin settling like a rock after being starved. The nicotine buzz helps, but he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

He’d snacked on and off all night at the hotel. Puked a few more times. Watched the city out the window, waiting for something to happen, wanting to call to Lestat again but worrying that Armand would hear.

Realizing that maybe Armand can hear anyway. Maybe he’ll come. And he pulled the curtains closed, staggered back. Turned the lights off in a panic, not wanting to draw any attention to himself.

Locked himself in the bathroom for a while. Chain-smoked the rest of the pack that he’d left here on the dresser. Drank tap water straight from the faucet. Sat there on the tile floor until he was shivering.

Hot shower next, except the heat made him feel like he’d faint. He turned it down halfway and sat on the floor of the tub for a long time, letting it rinse over him. Ears ringing as he tried to wash up, because he had to at least pretend to be a person if he was going to be on a plane soon. 

So he here is. Bathed and dressed and he tries to keep his head down, just watches out the window. No drawing attention to himself. He hopes no one can tell, even though part of him is hurt that no one can tell. 

Needs to fucking sleep.

Not yet, though. At least once the cabin doors are closed. He asks the stewardess for a blanket as she passes by, and he wraps himself in it. Eyes so raw in exhaustion, watching the ground crew load all the luggage into the plane.

There are people on this flight taking vacation. Whole families with sleepy children who had to wake up so early. No one knows what’s happened to him. They don’t know how much danger he’s in. 

But as the cabin door latches he thinks, no. No. Maybe don’t sleep until they’re in the air. 

He reaches into his pocket for another cigarette, but feels the cold hard watch there, instead. And pulls it out, seeing it in the sunlight for the first time. The chain drips between his fingers and he tilts it towards the window. Dirty and neglected but he thinks it could clean up nicely. 

Strange that Armand let him keep it. 

Maybe don’t sleep until the layover. Just in case. 

Or maybe don’t sleep until the second plane. 

His heart races and he wills himself not to be sick again. 

Or maybe just…

Don’t sleep. 

[previous day] | [next day]

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 2: Searching for Spector

word count: 2k

warnings: major violence, language, fem!reader

summary: We get a look at Steven. And then we’re reminded of a not so happy moment.

first part here

third part here

a/n: I’m still building our world and trying to give the reader some backstory. I promise there will be interactions next chapter. I guess I should tag this as slow burn too. 😔 also I don’t have DID and I don’t know anyone that does. I’m going based off the show canon and stuff that I’ve read from other creators. Please give me feedback!!

Steven jolts awake, a little yelp leaving his mouth. Looking around, he realizes he’s home. A sigh of relief escapes him. How silly was he for thinking that he was truly falling from a cliff, obviously that wasn’t real. His brows furrow, but it felt so real. He felt the cold, harsh wind pushing against him as gravity pulled him down. His body felt like a bus had run him over. He does what he does whenever he feels strange and chalks it up to sleep deprivation. He lies back down, letting his breathing go back to normal until he notices how bright it is outside and the time that the clock shows him.

“Oh, Donna’s gonna have my head on a spike.” Throwing himself out of bed, he quickly goes through his morning routine.

He only falters for a second when he notices a deep purple mark across his ribs, a stark contrast against his tan skin. That’s the spot where he got hit in his dream. He frowns, before deciding to push this to the back of his mind. He’ll deal with it after work.

Five minutes later, he’s throwing a quick “later, Gus!” over his shoulder, before he’s out the door with only ten minutes left to get to work.

Stevens enters the museum sprinting. He dodges past the tourists, who are all meandering around getting ready for tours. He skids around the children, throwing gummies at each other, and makes it to his sales counter only two minutes late. He feels proud of himself for it.

“You’re late!” Donna’s shrill intrusion into his ears causes him to drop his shoulders.

She takes in the bags under his eyes and his tousled hair.

She smirks. “Thrilling night? Stevie you dog.” She pops her gum, adding to Stevens’s irritation.

“It’s Steven, Donna, with an n at the end, not Stevie. And not that it’s your business, but no, it wasn’t a thrillin' night.” His words are harsh as he starts tidying the area.

“Well Steven,” she overpronounces his name and emphasizes the ‘n’ at the end of his name. “If you’re late again this week, you’ll be Steven with a write-up.”

Steven glares daggers into her back as she walks away, her heels clacking across the marble of the museum floor.

Work was going as it always does. He sold the public candies, plushies, and other historically inaccurate knickknacks. He scrapped gum off a sarcophagus and tried his hardest not to get jealous of the tour guides.

Towards the end of the day, Steven began feeling like he was being watched. He’s never felt like that before. He looked around but couldn’t find a pair of eyes on him. Shaking it off as being sleep-deprived again, he got back to work and tried his hardest not to let his hair stand on end.

This feeling caused Marc to stir and co-front. Usually, when Steven fronted, he used that as the time to get some sleep, not wanting to risk fronting at Steven’s place of work. He viewed the room when Steven looked around, his eyes trained to find prying eyes, unlike Steven’s. But just like Steven, he couldn’t find the source of the feeling.

Prior to the past few months, Steven used to feel a weight lift from his shoulders at the end of the work day. But now the walk home is filled with dread as he realizes he’ll have to go to sleep. Which will most likely lead to him having a weird dream or waking up wearing a shirt he didn’t even know he owned. Life had gotten so confusing and draining lately. He dreaded sleeping, he honestly dreaded being home sometimes.

Steven dragged his feet as he walked through the shopping square. He tossed a coin into his golden friend’s hat but didn’t stop. He continued trudging towards his apartment. Lost in his dreary state, it left him vulnerable. Having no clue you were behind him, let you follow him directly to his apartment building.

Approaching the building you relax your stride, blending in with the small crowd gathered at the bus stop. You watched as Marc crossed the street and opened the door to the building. Staying hidden between two buildings, you waited to see if he’d come back out. You wondered if he knew you were down here and if he knew that you had followed him. Letting time pass, you realize he wasn’t coming back down. Turning away from your hiding spot you make your way down the street to the cafe you had seen.

Entering the cafe reminded you of how long it had been since you had eaten. Focusing all your attention on Marc had caused you to forget the basic need for food. Grabbing your coffee and a sandwich, you got comfortable at a booth that looked over into the street. Gazing out the window, you quickly begin drowning in your thoughts about Marc.

Seeing him at the museum, you quickly noticed how he tried to make himself appear small like he didn’t want anyone to notice him. The way he kept his eyes focused on the counter in front of him and the way he fidgeted with his fingers as he spoke to customers. He left you confused about how he was the same guy you saw in those videos a few days ago.

You stayed in the small shop, enjoying the comforting ambiance, even after you had finished eating. The day had faded into night, letting the moon make its way above the city. You figured that the best way to watch Moon Knight in action was for night to fall. This mission wasn’t any different from others you’ve had, except the outcome was unclear. In the past, the objective was clear: track down the targets, get information, turn them into S.H.I.E.L.D. or if it came down to it put them down. With Marc, you weren’t sure what side he was on. You didn't doubt that you'd be able to figure out his motives quickly, but you weren't a big fan of going into a situation without a clear picture of the person. It left you with a lingering sense of uncertainty.

Leaving the cafe, you head to the hotel to the right of Marc’s apartment building.

“Good evening, any rooms left on the top floor tonight?”

The teenage boy working behind the counter doesn’t care enough to look up at your question. He just begins tapping buttons.

“Yeah, it’s 130 pounds, and that’s just for one night.” The dull voice makes you smile. At least you know he doesn’t care enough to remember your face.

“Sounds great here.” Sliding over enough to cover the cost for tonight and extra as a tip for him.

“Keep the change. Night.”

He gives no response as you take the hotel key and walk towards the elevator.

Once in the room, you take to the large window that looks over the area. It gives a decent view of the right side of the apartment building. You pull the curtains so they cover the outer portion of the window, and let the blinds open just enough so you can see out but no one could see in. Sliding the brown cushioned chair over to in front of the window, you get settled in for a long night.

There hasn’t been any movement. Hours have gone by and the only interesting thing you’ve seen has been two rats fighting over pizza. Glancing at the clock, you see the red numbers staring back saying 3:00 AM. You rub your eyes, thinking back to the last time you did a stakeout.

You watched as the front people of the group exchanged bags full of cash for crates of alien tech. After the battle of Wakanda, weapon dealers somehow got their grimy hands on the leftovers. They quickly got spread around and were making rounds on the streets. There have been multiple situations where crimes like bank robberies have turned horrible just because of some Chitauri weapons. Waiting for the exchange to end, you let the guys take the money and leave. You’re only here for the fucks that bought the guns. You’ll deal with the seller later.

You aim the small firearm at one man behind the van, letting him open the door before you pull the trigger. The silencer and your distance let the assassination remain silent. You leave your post and sprint to where the rest of the group struggles to move the extra large crates. Taking a rope, you loop it around someone’s legs and yank, pulling them towards your shadow-cloaked figure. Slamming the guy’s head into the ground with extreme force, he goes limp without screaming. Before anyone has the chance to notice where their friend has vanished, you’re up on the rafters on the underside of the bridge. Once they notice he’s gone, they freeze. The panic looks back and forth before they huddle together, trying to figure out what to do. They have no clue who, where, or what you are. They have no upper hand, so they try to make one.

“You must be dumb! These guns are so powerful they’ll dust your ass!”

You’ve never understood why they try to talk while fighting, not that it’s beneath you but, there are more pressing matters at hand. You don’t strike yet. Letting them get anxious, turning their backs to each other.

There it is. The perfect moment. Where they let a gap form between them, with just enough room so you can land between them and finish them. Tossing down a smoke bomb, you soon follow it. As it fills the area with smoke, you unleash hell upon them. Grabbing one by the jaw, you flip them over your shoulder. Hearing the double snap of bone and then the body hitting the ground, you know you can move on. Kicking the next guy in the legs, you wait for him to fall before brandishing your knife and slashing across Adam’s apple. He gargles as he tries to hold his throat. Taking your foot, you nudge him backward, letting him flop before turning to the next person.

They stare eyes so far open, mouth fully gaped as they take in the scene that happened in front of them. As you stalk towards her, she tries to move away from you, but there’s nowhere for her to go.

“Don’t-don’t do that to me! They forced me into this! Please, you don’t understand!” Dropping to her knees with shaky hands and a raspy voice. She lies.

“You’re such a coward. So pathetic and ashamed of yourself that you’d rather pretend to be some lackey. When in reality you’ve been the one setting up the meetings. Hazing new recruits and even finding suppliers that have the weapons you want.” You scoff.

“Stand up!” She makes no effort.

“Now!” Grabbing her arms, you pull her to her feet.

“Show me all the information that you have saved. Every hard drive, backup file, written plans, and written information. All of it. And if you even think of lying or hiding anything, I’ll give you worse treatment than them.”

Movement on the street causes you to be brought out of the depths of your mind. You hold your breath as you watch a man exit the building. As he turns away from you, he stretches his legs and breaks into a steady jog. It’s not Marc. There’s no curly hair or tan skin. Your shoulders sag in disappointment as you sigh. You know you need at least three hours of sleep and the museum Marc works at doesn’t open until 8. You think for a moment before coming up with a new plan.

You’ll get some sleep and then, once the museum opens, you’ll go in and speak with Marc. The plan sounds good enough to you in your sleepy state that you decide that you’re done brainstorming. Switching into loose-fitting clothes before climbing into bed. The mattress is hard and the sheets tug at your skin in a way that you didn’t know sheets could. Huffing out a small non-humorous laugh, you put your head down with your last thought being a very cynical.

Mmm, Home Sweet Home.

taglist: @marsmallow433 @peachyrue777 @80pairsofcrocs @catsandra-chan @andromeda-kay @khonshu-help-me @lemongirl5910 @luna2034 @aryashouldbequeen456 @penniewises @asimplepersonsblog @gabby913 @andromeda-kay @artfulthoughtsblog @draggolblackthorn @elizaphantandroses @motleyfolk @aliahdapisces @peachypizzicato @shousha133 @nunezr29 @venus-saturn-and-mars @xoxoshiftingloves @slimeybread @babypaperwitch @cinnitsuki @cosmicdes @taylormm1016 @peterparkers-bbymomma

[theladyofdeath]

Nesta comes home drunk and horny, but Cassian just puts her to bed. 🖤

Warnings: language, drunkeness A/N: Thank you for the prompt! Enjoy. :)

Cassian was lying on the couch with five minutes left in the season finale of Vikings Valhalla when the front door burst open and Nesta ungracefully stepped across the threshold.

He'd had a peaceful night at home alone, which he rarely had, and he knew Nesta would be pissed that he started...and finished...the new season without her, but he was hoping her sisters got her too drunk to notice.

Which it seemed they did.

She tried to close the door twice before succeeding as Cassian paused the show and looked at his wife, suppressing his grin. "Hey, sweetheart."

Nesta yelped, nearly jumping a foot in the air as if she hadn't even noticed he was laying there in plain sight. She started laughing as she dropped her purse and keys on the floor. "H-hi. I thought you'd be sleeping."

Supposing it was after one, Cassian shook his head. "Can't sleep when you're not here. I thought I'd wait up."

She looked up at him and frowned. "You can't sleep without me? That's...that's so sweet. You're so sweet."

Cassian pushed himself off the couch as he shook his head. "You've passed sassy drunk and have made it to sappy drunk, which means your morning is going to be hell. Come on. Bed time."

"I don't wanna," she whined, kicking off her shoes and dropping her coat on top of her bag. "I wanna...let's have a glass of wine."

"Let's go to bed."

"Can we drink wine in bed?" she asked, just as he stopped in front of her and kissed her forehead. "Shit, you're tall."

Cassian, unable to help himself, laughed. "And you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms. "You're an ass."

"Yeah, yeah." He held out his hand. "Come on."

With a dramatic sigh, Nesta took her husband's hand and let him drag her down the hall, through the master bedroom and into their bathroom.

After starting the hot water, he dropped a towel outside the shower door and said, "Get in. Be quick. I'm gonna get you a glass of water."

He thought she mumbled something along the lines of okay, dad as he shut the door behind him and made his way to the kitchen. After filling up a glass of water, he made sure that the house was locked up before returning to their bedroom. The water was still running and he could hear Nesta fumbling around, so he settled himself on the bed and put her water on her nightstand.

He was starting to doze off when the water finally turned off, and a moment later, Nesta entered the bedroom, hair dripping wet and gloriously nude.

Cassian raised a brow, even as his eyes scanned her body. "Didn't feel like drying off?"

She hiccuped as she fell onto the bed and started crawling towards him. "I did dry off, you ass."

"Doesn't look like it," he mumbled, and she straddled his waist. He kept his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles.

Nesta wasn't as modest. She ran her hands down his chest before trying to slip them up his shirt. "Let's make...fuck. Let's fuck."

"We only drunk fuck when we're both drunk and I, unfortunately, am one hundred percent sober." He took her hands and kissed each of her palms. "Get a brush. I'll brush your hair."

Nesta frowned. "You don't find me attractive anymore?"

Cassian sighed, unsure of how she got that from what he'd just said. "You're gorgeous. And I love the fact that your boobs are in my face right now, but it's late and your breath smells like you inhaled half the bar."

Nesta's frown deepened as her hips began to rock, grinding into him beneath his sweatpants. "Pleeeaaaaase. Real quick, then I promise...bed."

Each of her words were slurred and Cassian couldn't wait to remind her in the morning of this very moment. With a sigh, Cassian took Nesta by the hips and rolled her over. She clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, but Cassian only gave her a quick kiss then pushed himself off the bed and made his way to her dresser. He took out a pair of panties and one of her nightshirts, and tossed them onto the bed, where Nesta was yawning.

After going to fetch a brush, he came back and helped her dress before starting to brush her hair. As he worked the brush, her eyes closed and she sighed, contentedly.

"Cass," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I don't feel so good." The words were barely audible and she swayed, falling back against Cassian. He set the brush aside before wrapping his arms around her and leaning back against the pillows with her nestled between his legs.

"Get some rest," he whispered, and kissed the top of her head as he ran his fingers through her hair, again and again. It was only a minute before her breathing evened out and she was sound asleep against his chest.

After turning off the lamp on the nightstand, Cassian pulled them both beneath the blankets and wrapped his body around hers. She snuggled into him without a thought, snoring softly.

Cassian was almost asleep when he remembered that he never finished the damn season finale.

Maybe he'd rewatch the whole thing tomorrow while Nesta nursed a killer hangover.

[f4irycafe]

summary: you’re generally a very confident woman. but sometimes your insecurities manage to slip through the cracks of your resolve. after dating for a while, eren sees you breakdown for the first time.

request: n/a

pairing: eren x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: cursing? body checking, insecurity.

notes: this is for all of my readers who are like me :) i’m confident in myself & love myself about 90% of the time. but that 10% is a right pain in my fucking ass lemme tell you. i see a lot of fics here where the reader either completely hates themselves, or totally loves themselves. where is the duality, a girl can do it all LOL. requests are open

eren is smart, there's no denying that. he worked his way through the gifted program all throughout school, graduated top ten of his high school class, and got accepted into multiple ivys across the country. while he might exell in an academic setting, his emotional intelligence is severely lacking.

because of this, you really can't blame him for the fact that he doesn't see through your facade. granted, it is a very very good one, crafted over the entire course of your life. one of the reasons he fell in love with you was because of your confidence. he was so used to girls diminishing their personality to be what they thought he wanted, instead of just being themselves.

you commanded attention in every room you entered, and had a way of speaking that captivated everybody who interacted with you. you were just so ... you. so perfectly you that he would have never been able to guess that deep down you were struggling.

you had invited him over to your place to get ready for a pool party mikasa, annie, and sasha were throwing at their house. "a way to end the summer with a bang" as sasha liked to say. you had dragged eren to the mall earlier that week to buy a new swimsuit for the occasion. you had loved it when you tried it on in the store, the way it fit your body and accentuated all of your curves. but as you stood at home in front of your mirror you had propped against one of the walls in your room you just felt...off.

the material that you had previously fawned over was now too tight and dug into your skin in a way that made it pudge out of the small top. the rolls on your back seemed to sag even more than they usually did. you hated the way the bottoms made your stomach look and after trying to situate the thin strings higher on your hips numerous times, you realized there was no way to make them look quite right. and god, did your stretch marks look more noticeable than they usually did on your ass and breasts?

you were supposed to be leaving the house in five minutes, and eren had been bouncing off the walls all day in excitement. you could usually ignore your feelings whenever this happened. just say "fuck it" and pretend you loved your body anyways. but today was not one of those days. all you wanted to do was tear the bikini off, crawl into bed and cry.

"yo baby, do you remember where I put that big ass water gun i bought the other day, it isn't in the bag and - damnnnnnn. hehehe jeans gonna be so jealous." eren cut himself short when he saw you in the swim suit he had bought you. he put his phone down before rushing over to you, his hands immediately finding your hips as his eyes raked over your body.

"not right now hun," you muttered, pushing your hands off of him. if he didn't notice anything was wrong at first, he sure as hell did now. he pouted a bit, but moved away from you all the same.

"do you know where the water gun is though?" he asked again as he began to look around your room.

"no eren i don't know where the fucking water gun is." you regretted snapping at him the moment he whipped around to face you.

"first, don't curse at me. second, what's wrong?" he moved in front of you, holding your biceps between his hands. you couldn't look at him. instead choosing to keep your eyes firmly on the floor as he messaged your arms. you didn't want to break whatever perfect image of yourself he had in his head of you. you wanted to desperately to be the hot and beautiful girlfriend that he thought you were but, fuck.

"aye, baby, talk to me. what's going on with you, huh?" you thanked god for this mans patience as you stood there in silence for minutes.

"can you at least look at me?" he asked, tapping the underside of your chin with his pointer finger. he frowned when you finally did. your big eyes filled with tears that had already begun to fall onto your face, your lip quivering as you tried to hold in your sobs.

"oh my sweet girl," he cooed, bringing you fully into his arms.

"do you think i'm pretty?" you asked between sniffles.

"do i think you're - of course i think your pretty baby. i think you're gorgeous. the most beautiful woman i've ever seen." he was so confused. of course you were pretty, hell you told yourself you were hot everyday in the mirror as you sat and did your makeup. it was like a mantra.

you stepped away from him then, your hands frantically moving up and down your body.

"do you see the way this shit looks on me. its tight in all the wrong places, i look like - i look like i'm like six months pregnant or something, you can literally see the fat that's pooling over -"

"oh my god y/n i'm gonna have to stop you right there. hey, calm down okay. just breathe, it's okay." he rushed to you again, taking your hands in his as he started to rub circles over your knuckles.

"i don't know what's going on, or why you're saying this bullshit but you are so gorgeous."

"but i don't feel like it." you rubbed the snot slowly dribbling out of your nose with your arm, too distressed to care about how gross it was.

"i know i might seem really confident all the time, but sometimes pretending to love myself isn't enough. sure i like myself, but i don't love myself. not the way you seem to love me." eren could practically hear his heart breaking as you spoke.

"well then if you can't listen to yourself, listen to me. you, y/n, are honestly and truly the most beautiful woman i have ever know. inside and out. everytime i see you it feels like the first time i met you. i will never get over seeing your body, ever. we can be old, and saggy and look like fucking raisins, and i will love your body just as much as i do now. you have no idea how perfect you are."

your tears had stopped now, only the occasional sniffle coming from your nose as you looked at him.

"you don't have to believe me right now but, you're perfect to me." not knowing how else to convery his feelings he bent down and kissed you. he kissed you so perfectly that you began to forget what you had gotten so worked up about in the first place.

you were beautiful. you were strong. you were perfect.

"we can stay if you don't feel like going anymore. we can pirate the new spider-man movie and -"

"eren. we're going." you said, stopping his adorable nervous ramble. planting another few quick kisses on his lips you took another quick look at yourself in the mirror.

"thank you." you said with a small smile. he couldn't help but bend down to kiss you one last time.

"i love you baby."

"i love you too."

"okay so the watergun?"

elle’s rambles: this might have been a clusterfuck but oh well . i hope y’all enjoyed. requests for eren are open!

[rogersevans]

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.  

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.  

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.  

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.  

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.  

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.  

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.  

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.  

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.  

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.  

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.  

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.  

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.  

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.  

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.  

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.  

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling. 

Like children on Christmas Eve.  

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy. 

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.  

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.  

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.  

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving. 

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.  

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.  

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.  

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.  

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.  

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.  

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.  

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.  

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly. 

It was simple and perfect, no fuss. 

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said. 

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.  

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs. 

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre. 

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better. 

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!” 

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them. 

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response. 

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck. 

“Never.” 

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.  

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.  

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.  

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.  

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.  

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  

[scrabble-scribbles]

Kinktober Day 17

ok ok i know its supposed to be smut but 1) i have written so much smut im going to cry 2) i wrote TWO smut peices for day 15 so shut up 3) i saw this post and it made me cry so i had to write it instead (said post is by @el-fandom-phantom)

Prompt: Shower/Bath Sex (*whispers* not really)

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler

Fandom: Stranger Things

--

Eddie’s dead. 

Eddie is dead, and Max is in a coma, and Hawkins has been split in two, and now the war Nancy had seen coming in her visions was looming over them, exactly like the smoky clouds spilling from the Upside Down. 

And Vecna was still alive.

Their fourth expedition to try and find him had been near-disastrous. Nancy had been dragged through the forest, down to the copy of Lover’s Lake, Steve had been bitten by a demo dog, and Robin’s shoulder had been dislocated when she had grabbed Nancy before the vines could pull her under and drown her. 

As they had gotten back to Hopper’s cabin, they were silent. 

The cabin was dark, all the kids back home, which meant it was open for the three of them.

Steve unlocked the door, dropping his bat and backpack on the floor. He grabbed one of the med kits and sat down at the table, already bandaging the bite.

Robin followed him, dropping her own bag on the ground, hissing as she moved her hurt shoulder. She collapsed onto the couch, kicking her boots off, arm still carefully held across her chest.

Nancy limped in after them, closing the door as quietly as she could. Her shotgun was carefully placed on the gun rack, pistol and revolver following it, then three knives. She put down her bag, and went to join Robin on the couch.

It was silent, aside from the noises Steve made while bandaging the bite. Nancy was just staring at the wall, eyes vacant and unfocused.

When Robin opened her eyes, she had a moment of pure panic, seeing Nancy frozen like she was under Vecna’s thrall.

“Nance?” She asked, sitting up and taking the shorter girl’s hand. Nancy flinched slightly, but her hand tightened around Robin’s. 

“I’m here,” she said. 

Steve finished patching himself up, and grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall.

“I’m headed home,” he said, shouldering his backpack. “Robin, you coming?”

Robin was about to answer when Nancy’s grip around her hand tightened. Her response died in her throat, and she looked over to see Nancy with her eyes screwed shut.

“Nance?” She whispered, and Nancy’s eyes cracked open.

“Please stay,” she said, and Robin’s heart cracked.

“Robin?” Steve called again.

“I’ll get a ride with Nancy,” she called back. “Stay safe, dingus.” The door slammed shut, leaving the duo alone in the cabin. Robin didn’t know what to say, how to react to this, how to help. So she just sat there, waiting for Nancy to say something.

When five minutes passed, still nothing, she squeezed Nancy’s hand, barely the slightest bit of pressure. Nancy’s entire body seemed to crumble, and she all but collapsed into Robin’s side.

Robin wrapped both her arms around Nancy’s body, careful to not jerk her shoulder the wrong way. Nancy buried her face in Robin’s neck, her arms curling around Robin’s back. Robin squeezed her tighter when she felt her body start to tremble, closing her eyes as she did.

“We should get cleaned up,” she said, after a while. “I’m not sure what weird bacteria’s in the Upside Down, and I don’t think either of us wants to find out because we got a weird infection the doctors can’t fix.”

Nancy let out a little exhale, one that sent goosebumps running down her back, and nodded.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, voice muffled by Robin’s skin. “Let’s go.”

Somehow, they both managed to stand without fully untangling themselves, and they headed towards the main bedroom, the one with a bathroom connected to it. 

The door clicked shut, and Robin dropped her filthy jacket onto the ground, wincing again when she moved her shoulder too quick.

Nancy was just standing there, that shell-shocked look still in her eyes. It was so unlike the Nancy she knew, the confident leader, always with a plan, eyes always shining brightly, even when they were in hell.

It was just instinct for Robin to help her get out of her clothes, murmuring mostly to herself as she did. Nancy helped her untangle her arms from her shirt, making sure to not hurt her shoulder while she did.

When they were both down to their underwear, Robin nodded to the bathroom door.

“You can go first, if you want,” she said. Nancy still didn’t say anything, just took her wrist and pulled Robin along as she opened the door.

Something about the motion felt different, charged in a way that was so unfamiliar, and yet so exciting. Robin had noticed other little sparks like this one, always with Nancy, always something too intimate to be strictly platonic. And they’d only started once she’d come out to Nancy, still buzzed on the adrenaline of fighting Vecna, both of them sitting together in her car, waiting for Max to be out of surgery.

“I-I don’t want you to hate me,” Robin said, playing with her rings. “And its not that I think you would, I mean, even Steve didn’t, although he was a dick about, because he’s Steve, but I don’t want to go through any more of this bullshit hiding.”

Nancy had just taken her hands, holding them tight enough to help ground her.

“I could never hate you, Robin,” she said, and her smile had been so genuine, so, so, Nancy, that Robin had forgotten her fear and simply said: “I’m gay,” she said. “Queer, a lesbian, whatever you want to call it, but I don’t like guys, I like girls, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“

Pressure on her shoulder, more on her hand. Nancy was holding onto her shoulder, looking at her with warm eyes.

“It’s ok, Robin,” she said, voice so soft it was almost enough to make Robin cry. “It’s ok, I promise.”

She was shaken back to the present at the sound of the bathroom door click-ing shut. It was just the two of them, barely a few feet apart, and Robin would have thought this was weird, but she knew how Nancy was feeling, she was feeling the same. Neither of them wanted to be alone.

“Can you get out of that on your own?” Nancy gestured to her chest. 

“Oh, uh, no I can get it,” she said, and Nancy just nodded, sliding her own underwear off.

Robin followed suit, and joined the other girl in the shower. The water was already running, washing over Nancy’s bare shoulders, the grime and blood turning it a murky reddish-brown as it dripped down her skin.

The Robin from two years ago, hell, two months ago, would be jaw-on-the-floor levels of shocked that she was getting into a shower, naked, with the Nancy Wheeler. Head Bitch of Hawkins High, the rich, popular girl Robin had always called a priss. Past Robin would also be beet red at this point, just from being this close to her, but present Robin was just tired.

Both her and Nancy were far too tired and beaten and bruised by the past few weeks to even think about anything else. And this is all she needs right now.

Robin’s lathering shampoo in between her hands, fingers brushing through Nancy’s curls, slowly getting the muck and blood out of her hair. Nancy’s eyes are pointed at the floor, watching the grime run down the drain, and then her eyes are on Robin’s.

“Your turn,” she said, reaching up to run her hand through Robin’s hair. Robin’s heart hammered against her ribcage at the touch, at the look in Nancy’s eyes. It was so close, so warm and intimate, and Nancy leaned in.

Robin, for all her obliviousness, got the message.

She wrapped her arms around Nancy, the water raining down on both of them, their naked bodies pressed together. 

Nancy’s hands are still in Robin’s hair, Robin’s arms wrapped around her back. 

Nancy is the one to lean in, not her, and it’s so terrifying her head spins.

But she’d almost died, and hell had literally come to Earth, and they had both come so close to death.

They’ve been through too much to not kiss each other, so that’s exactly what they do.

Nancy’s lips pressed against her own, slowly, and so, so soft, and she kissed back, equally as soft, but equally as desperate as she knows Nancy is. They both need the reminder that they’re here, just Robin and Nancy, Nancy and Robin, safe from Hawkins, from the Upside Down, from Vecna. 

Just the two of them, alone in this moment that no one can touch.

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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

Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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

Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”