#had these doodles sitting around for .... Quite Some Time so cleaned them up and colored em :p

[cubedmango]

rd shtuff

[farolero-posting]

Spring Cleaning

Hey! Happy 7th anniversary to OneShot!

I wanted to make something special for this day, and I would say this is... a little messy, but I think it is fitting for this day. OneShot is a really cool game, and most importantly, a unique experience, and I wanted to capture a little of that.

Without further delay, enjoy!

Summary: Niko does some chores and gets distracted.

Words: 1,674

(Click below to see the full fic)

Today was seasonal cleaning day, and Niko… was getting a little exhausted by now.

The teenager picked up the folder with yellowed paper sticking out of it, located at the bottom of the messy pile in the room’s top shelf, huffing from the effort to get it out of the shelf. The folder was a bright orange color, and had a sticker of an owl on the cover, their favorite animal. The art had smooth round shapes, giving the animal a cartoony look. There was a messier version of the same drawing, made with black pencil, where some of the lines were drawn several times to ensure the graphite would stick, making small dents on the plastic.

Recognition flashed on the teen’s eyes. They had not looked at this folder for… quite some time, actually. There was a period where they had looked at its contents as many times as they could, using the contents to evoke the memories of that journey.

They opened the folder, and giggled at the first doodle that greeted them.

Why was a ram with “baa” in scary letters the one they put on top? Heheh, maybe their past self wanted to play a prank on them. The drawing had a date on it, like most others.

Exactly seven years ago, to be precise.

Niko’s eyes were wide open, and they had to resist the urge to jump out of their position, standing on their desk’s chair. They closed the folder, pressing it against their body, and crouched down at a slow but shaky pace, before sitting on the chair, with one leg pressed against their body, and the other stretched, reaching for the floor.

“I didn’t know this was all the way up there… It’s been so long!” was all they could mutter.

It felt like a lifetime ago… though, while that is true, they still have a long life ahead, don’t they? Seven years was indeed almost half of their life, but seven years is nothing compared to what they have ahead of them.

It was weird to think of it that way now.  Many things change over the years.

The first month, they had taken days to make a drawing for everything that was in their mind, scared of losing the memory. 

When they turned nine, they started telling their dreams to their mama, so they could both remember.

When they were ten they even wrote a little about their journey for a school project… trying not to mention the fact it was all based on a real story.

They were around twelve when they first felt… an empty dread, looking at these drawings. 

There was one page, at the bottom of the pile, that caught their attention. It was a drawing of the top room of the tower; it wasn’t lit up yet, however. They had gone out of their way to paint the borders in purple pencil, the page curling around the corners. 

At the time, they hadn’t known what to do. They were at the peak of the world, and yet they felt they were at the bottom, holding it all together.

And you were… well.

When they were young, you were everything. You were Niko’s one company through it all. They barely knew you, but they trusted you fully. 

The last time Niko looked at this particular drawing, a few years ago, their thoughts had been bitter. 

Maybe that’s why it had been so long since they looked at the folder.

You… They knew you were their guide, but you also made choices that felt unfair. 

Why did you present the choice? 

Why did you wait so long for that? 

What secrets did you keep from them? 

And why go through all of it, only to discover that you could undo it, later on?

Niko was grateful to be home, but… they didn’t understand you.

And you couldn’t answer them, either.

Because you’re not a god. 

And you’re not there anymore.

Back then, both you and Niko were told you had one chance on your mission. And so Niko had taken care of the lightbulb that represented the sun of this world, following your words. It was a long journey, but you listened to them, and kept them safe. However… even with their best efforts, there was no choice at the end that would save both Niko, and that decaying land.. 

So Niko placed that choice on you. If Niko had been older, maybe they would have questioned this more. They would have more ways to look at the situation, to weigh down their options, and maybe take longer to finally make a decision. Instead, in both more and less time than they expected, but certainly a wrong amount of time, you told them what path they had to take. And Niko, respecting the wishes of the world’s god, had done it.

Except you weren’t god. You were someone looking at them through a window, generating the world that had imprisoned them, but not belonging to it. When Niko was twelve, they had realized that whatever the first choice was, the impact on you would not have been as big as it was for them. 

They were angry back then… But now… 

Now they couldn’t hold it against you. They knew better… and funnily enough, they remember their youngest self knowing better, too.

Niko placed the drawing aside, and as they did that, another one slipped out of the folder. This one was a drawing of pancakes with syrup. They weren’t the hazelnut ones their mama made (and now Niko makes them for her, too!), but they remember they were delicious, with a hint of a flavor they couldn’t quite name. The teen wondered if it was a product of that world that only existed there. Now, their older self with a hobby for baking, wished they could know what it was.

They remembered going there, right before the tower. Niko had asked you if it was okay to make a stop for some food, and you had taken them to the cafe, where they had gotten those pancakes. They knew you listened to them, and not only that, that you wanted to comfort them too, in any limited way you could. 

The next drawing they got from the pile showed a view from the top of the Refuge, taken from one of the tallest buildings. Niko’s town was close to a river too, but it wasn’t as close as the ones flowing around the Refuge. It wasn’t glowing pink, either. Niko had been to a big city now too, but it wasn’t anything like the one in that world. The Refuge was a unique city, among thousands of them. 

They remember you said you lived in a city, and they could only imagine it was like the Refuge, for years. Now they recognized there were many more options for what a city or a town could look like.

The next drawings were of the friends Niko met. Though they wish their artistic skills did them more justice, they couldn’t help but look at them fondly for what they represented. What would be of those people now? Do Calamus and Alula still live in the ruins? Is the robot lady —the drawing says her name is Silver— still in the Barrens? Did the Mr. Lamplighter get to sleep more with the Sun back? They smiled, thinking of the possibilities. 

Niko stumbled upon a drawing of the computers that made up the World Machine, and took it out to hold it closer, the glow in their eyes slightly reflecting on the paper. They remember drawing the screens with a ruler, to make sure it looked as good as a blueprint (but they know now that blueprints are more complicated than that). They also drew the Author’s children and themself on that page, holding the sun. It was them who reminded Niko what all the effort not to forget was for. 

And Niko would not have known of them without your help. Because you…, though you weren’t a god, you wanted to do something to save both Niko and everyone else. You cared enough to try to be more than just a guide, but someone who believed in a second chance as well. Someone convinced they were all worth it.

The last drawing on the pile was a journal with a yellow clover on the cover, along with the amber necklace, a glowing feather, and a six sided die. Niko never met the creator of that world in person. They simply had his letters, words of others and objects to remember him by. 

They understood why their mama gave them a hat passed down by her parents. They understood why she kept all their silly drawings.

And why hazelnut pancakes would be their favorite food forever, over any other kind of pancake.

They breathed in when they felt themself run out of air, and the shivering of their body almost made them burst into tears. You were a guide, a ghost and… a friend. And all they had of you was the memories of your voice.

Niko wondered if you missed them, if you would be happy to see them today. Niko didn’t narrate their thoughts aloud anymore, their life was also more hectic and complicated. They sometimes thought their younger self was a little silly. They were far from the child you knew.

But it was good to be there. To look at those old drawings, and get that same joy out of them. To enjoy the chances that were given to them, and know that, in some distant place, you are still with them, getting your own chances. 

Niko took a blank page from a stack on their desk and a pencil from their first drawer, and put something on it that reminded them of you, placing it on the top of the ram doodle. 

They hoped it would be the first thing they saw the next time they opened the folder. 

[shystrawberries]

Day 12- Carousel

In the days after the night has been enjoyed, the carousel looks oddly abandoned. Star and Moon, when they’ve done their chores of cleaning up, enjoy their time sat upon pegasi  and clouds. Sometimes Moon reads to her, which is a bittersweet reminder of their time in the daycare. Sometimes she draws, and Moons simply watches. Sometimes he teases her imperfect doodles, but always in fun and never truly mockingly. Most times they simply sit and talk. Star loves to hear about his impressions of the guests, as his demonstrations of his interactions and what he’s seen are ever so sarcastic and entertaining. Star likes to tell him about the number of certain things she sees in a night. The number of certain piercings, the number of specific colored socks, the amount of crows she saw. Then Moon might delve into the stories surrounding crows, and they get lost in rabbit holes as he recounts memes that she’s never had the pleasure of seeing. 

It is on the carousel that Moon quietly adjusted her to sit on the floor in front of the star seat he liked to perch on. She allowed him to do so, confused but otherwise unconcerned. She continued to silently read the book Sunny leant her as he swept her hair off her shoulders. 

“Have you talked to Eclipse?” Moon asked in that quiet, raspy voice of his.

She shrugged as she turned the page. She didn’t have to read the physical book this slowly, really, but she enjoyed taking things at a slower pace. “Not recently, no. Why do you ask?”

Her hair fell against her back in a singular mass, as if braided. Moon took it up again and seemingly unraveled it. He did this quite a few times before answering. Then he peered around her and smirked at her. “Clipsy has a cruuush~”

Star raised a brow. She didn’t know that Eclipse was capable of such a sweet thing. Were any of them, really? But then if they weren’t able to form deeper affections for one another, why was it she always felt the underlying urge to be wrapped up in Moon’s arms? It had taken her a long time to understand the feeling, and longer still to bring it up to Sun in confidence. A crush. Such an unusual thing, and here even Eclipse apparently held one. 

“Oh? Who for?”

He leaned closer still, mischievously. “A human.”

“That sounds as though it would complicate things.” Star mused. 

Moon chuckled before retreating. He returned to braiding her hair, sliding something against her scalp that felt a little different to her sensors than his silicone-tipped fingers.

“Oh, absolutely.” he practically giggled. “Clipsy can’t get the poor thing to even look at him.”

“Is it someone who works here? Do I know the human?” Star was intrigued by this little drama. She wondered if Sunny already knew. Perhaps it was he who told Moon.

“The ringmaster’s off-spring, of course.”

Star slammed her book down and spun around to face Moon. His hands were momentarily paused in the air from how abruptly she moved. 

“Really?”

He adjusted how some strands of hair framed her face as he responded. “Really really.”

Star giggled. She covered her mouth, but the laughter could not be contained. “N-no wonder he can’t get them to look at him.” Star snickered. “They’re far too sensible to let someone like Eclipse pursue them.”

Moon hummed in a noncommittal manner. 

Star pulled back, leaving Moon’s hands empty. “What does that mean?” Her eyes narrowed.

Moon shrugged and looked to the side, looking far too mischievous to pull off the innocence he was going for. “Only that I’ve noticed an increase in their heart-rate whenever he’s around.”

“No. Way.”

Moon leant forward to match the energy she was exuding. “Way.”

“Can Eclipse measure heart-rates? Does he know?”

“Nooo~ He wasn’t made with all the important things like I was. He didn’t have to make sure the children were sleeping, after all.”

Star looked over the park as if she would see either one of them passing by. Some workers did, but most were off doing their own thing. Sleeping, shopping, catching up with family in the area and the like. “Five bucks it takes them four months.”

“Five it takes them six months.”

She grinned at him and slapped her hand against his in a handshake. 

Star hummed in their trailer as she prepared for the night. She changed into one of her more circus-y outfits, discarding the wide-legged jeans and white t-shirt on the bed nest. She’d take care of it in a moment. 

It didn’t take long for Sunny to quickly get involved in the bet, despite his initial disapproval. He thought it would be closer to an entire year passing before either Eclipse lost his sanity entirely or Reader finally put their adult pants on and admitted they liked him back. 

Really, Sun was just as much of a gossiper as the rest of them were, he just pretended he wasn’t. So he knew all about the situation. It… was about the same amount Moon and Star knew, but Star didn’t mind the regurgitated information. 

Star paused as she caught something sparkle in her reflection. She maneuvered a hand mirror to look better at the back and side of her flat head to see that her thick hair had been pulled into a quite complicated-looking braid, decorated in sparkling pins and barrettes. So that’s what she had felt Moon put in her hair. 

She smiled. That was quite cute, actually.

[dennydraws]

No Buy 2023 - Art Supplies

Hello, hello and Good Morning! It's not quite January anymore to make new year resolutions but about a month ago I decided I need to do something about my art supply hoarding tendencies :D;;; Even if I'm not even close to what I see on art videos, it doesn't quite sit well with me when I have more than I use and clutter is something I don't like around me.

So! This year, let's tackle some art supplies with reckless abandon!!

Step 1 - Catalog all your supplies I want to say this was a tough one but it was actually fairly easy for me. I could mostly name everything from the top of my head xD:; And to be expected the most glaring issue with me was all the unfinished sketchbooks that I keep piling. I listed, ahem...about fourteen sketchbooks... 2 of which are pass half point to finish, 8 of which are started and for one reason or another abandoned and rest are not even opened.

Whenever I get the urge to buy new sketchbooks I will remind myself of the list I made. I'm fairly sure I got some more hiding in random corners too.

Anyway! Target list:

Step 2 - Discard what is no longer usable Ok testing everything did take time but it did also cut some chunk of art supplies. It also made me realize I had some markers I barely used and they had dried out exactly cause I had barely used them... a lesson to learn. Again. About a year ago I noticed some of my fave colors have dried cause I was savoring them maybe a bit too much lol. Once more the copics are holding up like absolute troopers. Sad to say the spectrum noir markers just dry really fast, especially if you aren't using them as soon as you open them. They are still wonderful markers mind you!

Well, I don't plan to use my copics with reckless abandon but I do plan to use all the watercolors I have for I have quite a lot xD;; including tubes, another set and gouache set that I have stashed away;;;

Step 3 - Pair the materials! I usually tend to make a test ground page at the start of every sketchbook but if I'm to test everything ... I may burn out so, I'll just stick to quick tests and if something doesn't work out, turn a page and carry on.

Step 4 - Write down the progress! If you're like me, you exist with little lists and check box and see everything as little exp bar that you feel and celebrate when you complete it :D;; And this challenge is no different for me. Every month I will be writing down what I've used, did I actually used all of it, did I learn or enjoy this medium etc...

But yes, this will be my process for the year! Maybe by end of December I will have a long post of what I finished, what I didn't etc :D;; hopefully more finished than unfinished! At the end art is personal and it should be done in a way that sparks joy for you. For me, I need order in my compulsive doodling tendencies. Unfinished things stress me and I hope I get to close the last pages of some sketchbooks and throw away some empty art supplies now that they served their purpose - maybe even discover that I really enjoy some mediums I barely had used before \o/

Thank you for stopping by, dear reader! I hope you have a wonderful week full of inspiration and ideas! Maybe this little read inspired you to catalog your own art supplies and do some spring cleaning!

[drabbles-mc]

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​​

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

--

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

--

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

--

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

[let-them-read-fics]

Conflicted Connections

Requested By @rc11: “Reader is drunk and calls Rosé to pick her up since she’s worried. And on the way home, the reader confesses but since she knows Rosé is out of her league she gets all sad. All fluff throughout the way, and the next day she avoids Rosé since she recalls herself confessing and is to embarrassed to face her. Gets a lil bit angst but then they somehow make up at the end.”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,505

Warnings / Misc. – Mentions Of Alcohol & Partying, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein. 

A/N: Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this one, and I really hope you enjoy it. I stuck with the gist, but I added quite a bit :) AND WHO ELSE IS HYPED FOR THE SHOW??? 🥳 I can’t wait to see our girls own that stage 😌

PS ~~ The song used is called "Baby, I Love You" by Tiffany Alvord, and it was specially requested.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

With yet another steaming cup of tea in hand, Rosé makes her way back to her room, settling onto the soft cushions of the bed. Her notebook lays open in front of her, lyrics and annotations beautifully etched into the paper. 

She pulls her guitar back into her lap now, allowing her fingers to glide along the strings as she strums out whatever comes to mind. Nothing makes her feel as relaxed as this; she's free to sing whatever she feels -- to play whatever feels right. If only for a little while, she can connect back to her roots and remember how she felt as a little girl; when her heart and mind were unburdened by fear of judgement.

Life isn't always easy, but she takes comfort in the fact that her love of music will always remain childlike, in the sense that there's always something new to discover or tell the world. It goes without saying that being a songwriter is much easier when you're inspired, and Rosé can attest to that. A certain someone has become her muse over the course of the past few months, and her mind is constantly filled with ideas for new material. 

As another line pops into her head, she takes the page between her fingers to flip to a clean sheet. A few seconds later, thinking she found one, she begins writing. Soon, though, she discovers that this wasn't an empty page: in the upper right hand corner, a small heart is drawn, encompassing the words "Hi Rosie" and a small smiley face. Your initials are printed next to the doodle, and the sight brings a soft smile to her face. You must've sneakily drawn that when she wasn't looking one day. 

Her fingers run along the markings, tracing over the lines as your face flashes in her mind for the millionth time today. The universe must've been listening, because no more than 5 minutes later, her phone starts ringing. She reaches backwards towards the bedside table, and her fingers soon make contact with the device. 

"Hey, I was just thinking about you--" She starts, before being interrupted. 

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE--" Your voice booms through the phone as you sing loudly, nearly making Rosé go deaf in the process. She blinks a few times to refocus her thoughts before chuckling lightly.

"Y/N?"

"Rosie I'm at this really fun party, you should come hang out!" Your words come out slightly slurred, but excited nonetheless. It's a bit hard for her to hear you now over the music blasting in the background. 

"Ah, I don't know…" She trails off, voice unsure. She'd much rather spend the evening writing about you than at some random party. 

"Pleaaseee?" You drag out, making sure to whine for even more emphasis. "I miss you." 

Rosé's heart skips a beat at that last part, now thudding obnoxiously loud in her chest. She misses you too, probably more than a 'friend' should, but she can't help it -- you're simply too amazing.

She takes a breath, knowing that she'll likely regret her next decision -- after all, hiding her feelings becomes harder every time she's around you. Regardless, she can't find it in herself to say no to you. "Alright, fine. Where are you again?"

You let out a loud cheer upon hearing her cave in, and she just knows you look like a dork, likely having that stupid little smirk on your lips that she loves so much. 

After getting the address from you, she goes into her closet to find a good outfit. For anyone else, she might've just shown up in whatever was comfortable; but knowing that you're there is enough motivation for her to put a bit more effort into it. 

Her signature style shines through: she dons a black crop top and jeans, paired with a long, hickory colored trench coat. She finishes the look off with her white sneakers, giving the outfit that final umph that it needed.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusts her clothes and hair again before heading out.

-----

The moment that Rosé steps foot inside the house, her eyes widen. She's been to plenty of parties before, but never one as chaotic as this. A large crowd is gathered in the living room, making the area that was likely once spacious now appear cramped and tiny. Some people move with the rhythm, while others dance wildly to the beat of their own drum. The music was audible from outside, but inside is a whole nother story: it's nearly deafening now. 

In front of her, just past the living room, two guys are fist fighting. To her left, a long hallway is filled with couples making out, likely on their way to the bedrooms. She grimaces before pushing her way past everyone and walking towards the kitchen.

The bright strobe lights from the living room still manage to reach the area, but things are definitely a little calmer here. That's not to say that it's quiet, though: people are gathered around the counters, downing shots and cheering each other on at the same time. Some stumble around, nearly falling over as their friends laugh hysterically and help keep them vertical.

In the adjacent room, two teams of partygoers are busy playing beer pong. It seems to be boys vs girls, and Rose smirks when she discovers the latter are in the lead. 

She scans the rooms one more time, but you're still nowhere to be found. A pang of worry settles in her chest, but it only makes her more determined to find you.

And, 10 minutes later, she does. You're outside in the backyard, sitting near the fire pit with a bottle of wine in your hand. The flames are dying down now, long ago forgotten about -- the stars shining in the midnight sky had captivated you, stealing your attention away from keeping the fire fed. 

Before she begins her journey over to you, she takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful you look. The remaining embers flicker lazily, creating a deep haze that casts onto your body. The shadows contrast with the light, making your features pop in all the right ways. The sound of someone shouting again brings her out of her daze, and Rose makes her way to you.

At first, you don't notice her. Your eyes are wide, filled with wonder as you gaze up at the sky in awe. Space has always baffled you, and Rose thinks you look adorable when you get like this. 

"Y/N," she says gently, standing beside your chair. After pulling your eyes away from the sky, you meet her gaze. A light blush rises to your cheeks at the way she's looking at you. 

"Hi Rosie," you slur. The words come out cutely, but she can tell that you're much drunker than you had been when you called earlier. 

"How much have you had?"

You scrunch your face up in thought as the last two functioning brain cells in your head go to work. She can practically see the wheels turning, and she can't help but laugh at the look of effort on your face. 

"...a lot." You ultimately conclude, taking far too long to come up with such a simple answer. "Alex gave me a couple of his special mixes earlier, I had some shots, and now--" you declare, holding the wine bottle up triumphantly, "--this!"

As soon as she heard his name leave your lips, she frowned. Alex is one of your coworkers and friends, and he's totally in love with you. You're oblivious to it, but Rose isn't and she can't stand him. On top of the fact that he's a guy, he has the audacity to like you? Well, she can't exactly blame him for those things, but that doesn't mean that she has to like him. She's civil around him for your sake, but that's all.

"Do you want some?" You ask, always willing to offer her whatever you have. Sharing is caring, and you definitely care about a certain Australian beauty. 

She looks down at you before shaking her head. "No, I'm good." You swish the liquid around, peering down into the bottle as it glides from side to side. "Me too," you say, setting it down beside your chair. "Let's go dance!" You suggest excitedly, using your strength to hoist your body out of the seat. Sorely miscalculating your moves, your foot doesn't quite connect with the ground how you intended; you stumble, falling right into Rosie's waiting arms.

She was watching you carefully, having a feeling that this would happen. 

"Nope, I'm taking you home. No dancing for you." You whine and pout, but Rose doesn't budge. Eventually you give up, and allow her to hold you close as she helps you walk out of the house. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she has to fight the butterflies that take flight.

As the two of you near the door, Rose spots Alex in the living room. She shoots him a cocky grin, as if to say 'checkmate' before she leads you out the door.

-----

The ride home was getting off to a rather interesting start. It took Rosie a while to wrangle you into the car and buckle you in, but she eventually managed to do it. Now, though, a new problem is arising: you're being flirty, and she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"You're so pretty," you compliment, leaning over the center console to whisper the phrase in her ear. She gulps and attempts to calm her heart down, but she's having trouble. "Shush," she commands, blushing as she lets out a little giggle. She tries to remind herself that you're just drunk -- that there's no real meaning behind your words -- but it feels good to pretend.

After a moment, you return to your seat, and she lets out a sigh of relief. 

Barely 2 minutes later, you place a hand on her knee, saying gently, "You always take such good care of me. Thank you, Rose." She sneaks a glance at you, and her heart nearly melts at the smile you're sending her way. Your eyes are shining with sincerity, and she'd surely get lost in them if she weren't busy driving. 

The rest of the ride is filled with more flirting and compliments from you, all of which send her into a gay panic, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

----

Now, laying in your bed as Rosé rounds up some pajamas for you, the effects of the alcohol really begin setting in. You're still in the playful, teasing phase, but you know you'll have a major hangover tomorrow. Whatever Alex put in those drinks is catching up with you and running its course throughout your body.

"Rosie, do you like anyone?" You call out, toying with your fingers like a toddler. She emerges from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, just as you ask the very words she's been fearing.

She goes to respond, but you interrupt her with a drunken giggle. "Because I do. Her name rhymes with nosey." You chuckle at yourself, but she's too busy trying not to freak out to return the gesture. When you don't question her further, she relaxes her shoulders. How many more times could she get away with avoiding her feelings?

She pushes the scary thought away, instead opting to bring over your clothes and give you a minute to change. Thankfully you're coherent enough to do that on your own -- the thought of you flirting with her while half naked and self-assured sends her wild, and she knows she'd slip up and confess. 

Once you're dressed, she comes back over to the bed and sits down in front of you. She brings the rag up to your face and slides it across your cheeks and neck, knowing just what you need. This isn't the first time she's done this for you, and she can't deny the rush she feels when you look up at her with those big eyes, filled with gratitude.

You sigh at the coolness, relishing in the way that it soothes your hot skin. A soft thank you slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter shut, and Rosé almost lets herself imagine that you're hers. That she just brought her girlfriend back home and now she's taking care of her. But before she can get too lost in that fantasy, she pulls away, slipping the rag into your hand so that you can use it on yourself now.

"Well, I think my work here is done." She declares, patting your leg lovingly. She moves to stand, and the action prompts you to speak up.

"Wait," you start, grabbing her wrist before she can get away. You meant to tug gently, but you must've misjudged your strength; in an instant, she's close to you again, just a breath away. Her face is right in front of yours, and you can feel her warm breath against your lips. 

Her eyes are wide now, and a subtle tremble runs through her. She's never been this close to you, and although she's terrified, she doesn't want to move away. She wants to give in -- to lean forward the tiniest bit and capture your lips -- but she can't. Her breathing becomes labored as she notices your gaze move from her eyes to her lips. Do you like her back? Surely not, you're just drunk...right?

Her pink lips look so kissable right now, the gloss on them shining in the low lamplight. She's close enough that you can smell her fruity shampoo and feel every jagged breath she draws in.

"Y/N--" 

That's all it takes to set you into motion. You bring a hand up to her cheek, cupping it sweetly as you press your lips to hers. She sighs at the contact, melting into your embrace, and allows herself to let her walls down. Her lips move against yours slowly, unsure -- this is new for both of you, and you're testing the waters. One of her hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, and she pulls you impossibly closer. 

After she subconsciously bites your lip - the action drawing a groan from you - she snaps back to reality and pulls away. Her lips are red and swollen, and you have to stop yourself from leaning back in. She looks like she wants to do the same, but she centers herself before she can.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go. Goodnight, Y/N." She says breathlessly, swallowing as she runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't give herself anymore time to change her mind, and soon she's rushing out, failing to even give you so much as a second glance. 

Shocked, you sit back and let your mind try and piece together what the hell just happened. The kiss worked well in sobering you up, at least for the time being, but you wish it hadn't. Now, you're forced to sit alone with your feelings again, lips still tingling with the memory of hers against them.

----

The Next Morning

*ring ring*

The blare of your ringtone sounds especially loud now, making you wince in pain. Your head is pounding, and that definitely isn't helping. Quickly, you roll over and pick it up, keeping your eyes closed as you press the button and hold it to your ear. "Hello?" You ask groggily, voice still laced with sleep.

"Hey, Y/N. The girls and I are going out later; do you wanna come with?" Jennie's sweet voice asks. You rub your forehead, now opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling as you ponder your options. With a glance at the clock, you see that you've already slept a good portion of the day away.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty hungover right now Jen." You chuckle despite yourself, grinning when she laughs back.

"Rosie told us you might be dealing with that." Jennie laughs again, but you go quiet. Did she tell them everything that happened, or did she try and forget about it? After all, she basically ran away -- surely she regrets it. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone as out of your league as Rosé could like you back.

"Jisoo whipped up her special 'hangover-reverser' drink for you, as she calls it." She adds, hoping that'll win you over. Lost in your thoughts, you forget to answer her. 

Jennie takes your silence the wrong way, saying, "You don't have to come, but we'd love to hang out." She sounds sad at the thought of you staying home, and a feeling of guilt creeps into your mind. Work has kept you from hanging out with all of them recently, and they miss you. You miss them too, and quickly decide that a hangover (and the awkward situation you'll be subjected to when face to face with Rosé) aren't enough of a deal breaker to decline their offer. 

"I'll be over in a few. Tell Jisoo to make a couple more for the road… I'll need all the help I can get." 

Jennie laughs again, and you pep up at the sweet sound. She celebrates, and you can hear the girls clapping in the background, shouting praise at her for convincing you to come. The two of you say your goodbyes, and you begin getting ready.

-----

"Jisoo, you're a lifesaver." You confess, flopping back onto the couch. The unnie responds with a smug, "I know," from her place in front of the mirror. 

You lick the remaining liquid from your lips, and Rose shifts in her seat across the room. She can't get the feeling of your kiss out of her mind, and seeing you do that only makes things worse. 

"Here's the second one," Lisa says, smirking as she pats your shoulder and hands you the cup. You smile back at her and smack her butt as a wordless thank you.

"Alright, so where exactly are we going, girls?" You ask as you tuck your feet underneath your body.

"I was thinking we could shop around Hongdae. They changed some stuff since we were there last, and it looks awesome." Jennie informs.

"Sounds good to me." Jisoo replies from the adjacent room, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. 

Lisa agrees as well, and so does Rosie. At the sound of her soft voice, you make eye contact with her for the first time today. Ever since you arrived earlier, you've avoided her. She's done much the same, refraining from saying much to you at all. The girls haven't seemed to pick up on the tension yet, but they're observant; surely it won't take them long. 

As you replay the fateful events in your mind again, you allow your head to lull back and rest against the cushion of the couch. Last night, Rosé’s eyes were speaking all of the words she could never tell you out loud, sparkling with repressed desire. It wasn't hard to tell that she was nervous, but she kissed you like she had been waiting to for an eternity. So, clearly, your confusion at the whole situation is understandable. Why did she run away?

"Ready?" Jisoo asks, kicking your foot to get your attention. 

"As I'll ever be." You state as you stick a hand out to her. She understands immediately, swiftly helping you up. A little groan leaves you, your head spinning from standing up so quickly, so she doesn't move until you get adjusted. 

"Thanks," you smile, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Having such good friends always comes in handy, but there's something special to the little moments like these. She hums in response, and the two of you lead the way out to the car.

Rosé watches the whole encounter as she falls in line behind you, wishing she were in Jisoo's place. Last night was a wake up call for her, unexpected in literally every way, and she panicked. Looking back now, she wishes she would've at least explained her behavior to you. The kiss awakened something within her, releasing all of the feelings she's held in for so long. She didn't rush out because she didn't enjoy the kiss; if she had any idea that that's the impression it left on you, she would've ran back in and kissed you a million times over.

Lisa notices Rosie's furrowed brow and downcast eyes, and instantly knows something's up. 

Now in the car, she leans in close to ask, "Everything okay?" 

"Mhm." Rosie replies, doing her best to sound like her normal self. 

The years have made Lisa an expert at reading the slightly older girl, but she doesn't want to push her. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

"Okay…" Lisa trails off, coincidentally making fleeting eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. On any other day, you would've fought Lisa over the seat next to Rosé; but today, of course, is unlike any other. You're in uncharted territory now, and you have no idea when -- or if -- you'll return to normal. For now, you make do with the passenger's seat, keeping yourself busy by looking out the window. Jennie's driving is smooth, and you appreciate that in your altered state. A low pulsing still vibrates through your head every now and then, but it's become much more bearable. Jisoo truly knows what she's doing with that concoction.

----

Hongdae, Seoul -- A Few Hours Later

"Jennie," Lisa huffs out, struggling to carry everything she’s been handed. "How much stuff do you need?!" The maknae does her best to keep the bags from touching the ground, but that task is proving difficult. 

"We're almost there!" Jennie says, dismissing the younger girls complaints. 

A few minutes later, you're seated at the new restaurant Jennie's spent the night talking about. Seeing the girls so happy today has taken your mind off of your own problems somewhat, but sometimes the issues are unavoidable… like right now. 

Though she tries to be discreet about it -- even going so far as to hide behind her menu -- you can feel Rosé's eyes on you. The waiter seated you at a booth, and of course she happened to sit right in front of you. Having her attention has always been something you enjoy, but you're so embarrassed about what happened that you can't help but shy away from it now. If drunkenly confessing your feelings for her wasn't bad enough, you also kissed her. What could be next?

Rosie's dying on the inside a little more with every minute that passes. The past few hours were filled with plenty of fun and stupidity for the lot of you, stopping in just about every store you came across and joking all the while. But the entire time, you and Rosé kept your distance. Occasionally you'd crack a joke to make her laugh or the two of you would share a look, but the air around you was always thick with the emotions you couldn't give voice to. It also doesn't help that part of Rosé is afraid you didn't even really mean to kiss her. If she blames it on your drunkenness, she doesn't have to process her feelings; she can just go back to suffering in silence. When she looks at you, though, she knows there's no denying what you both feel for each other. 

"Can I get you started with some drinks?" The waiter approaches again, pen and pad ready to go.

"Do you have sikhye?" You inquire, raising your head to look at him.

"We do."

"Great," you smile, getting an idea. "I'll take one of those and a glass of water, please." He jots down your request before recording the other orders and setting off to get the drinks prepared. 

In order to preserve the plan, you don't dare look in Rosé's eyes.

A couple minutes later, he returns with a big tray of drinks; it's a wonder he didn't accidently drop any on the way. Jennie and Jisoo ordered multiple for the table so you could sample them, and you smile at the gesture. They all look tasty, but one in particular catches your attention.

When he hands it to you, you wordlessly slide it over to Rosé. You know she loves it, and you did order it for her, after all. She lets out a little gasp of excitement, and you choose this moment to really look at her. Her eyes are shining again, and you laugh -- if anything is capable of cheering her up, it's something that she can eat or drink.

She beams at you while extending her hand, gently resting it against yours on the table. It's warm and comforting, and you can't help but want to hold it forever. Her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your wrist, and you almost melt at the tenderness of the motion. 

Thankfully the other girls aren't paying attention, or else you'd be thoroughly embarrassed. They continue on with their conversation, leaving you and Rosé to get lost in your own world for the next while.

More time passes, in which you place your food orders and the waiter later brings it out to you.

"Enjoy, ladies." He declares before bowing and returning to the host stand. 

"It looks so yummy," Rose moans, snatching up her chopsticks before digging in. The other girls agree as well, and soon all of you are eating like there's no tomorrow. The flavors go perfectly together, and you pat yourself on the back for choosing the dish you did.

"Do you wanna try some?" You ask after noticing Rose eyeing your plate. You quirk an eyebrow at her as you wait for her answer, which comes in the form of a sheepish nod. 

"That's my girl," you declare with a smile on your face, happy to bring back some of your playful banter. Rosie's heart speeds up at the title, but she tries not to show it too much. Although it's a bit unmannerly, you reach a bite of your food across the table to her and grin when she takes it. Her cheeks puff out in that signature chipmunk pose, and your smile widens. 

"Yah, that's delicious." She sighs, closing her eyes to allow her palate to focus on the flavors. 

You shake your head at how much of a dork she is for food, but giggle despite yourself. She really is the cutest.

-----

"Good evening, everyone, this is the manager speaking. Our lounge area will open in 10 minutes, and karaoke will begin shortly after!" 

Lisa looks at Jennie incredulously, her mouth hanging open. "They have karaoke, too?? How cool is that!" 

Jennie smirks, knowing how good she is at choosing places to take you guys. This joint is definitely somewhere that you'll frequent whenever you're around. "I know right?" She asks, satisfied with herself.

In Rosie's eyes, the karaoke announcement was fate working its magic. She's spent the day mulling over everything that's transpired, deciding earlier that all she needed was one more sign. Now that she had that last little push, all she has left to do is gather up all the courage she possesses. 

As the 5 of you finish up your meals and wait for it to kick off, she racks her brain for the perfect song to sing. She's going to confess.

---

Fully stuffed and satisfied with the amazing dinner you just had, you all follow the waiter towards the lounge area. Located in the back of the restaurant, it's complete with 1 main, corner stage, and 2 smaller ones off to the side. Plush couches and chairs stretch out in front of the stages, allowing the audience to kick back and enjoy the performances. 

A small bar is tucked away in the far corner of the room, stocked with a vast array of different liquors and mixes. Strips of light line the shelves behind the bartender, giving the space its own unique style, and you take some time to admire it all. A few small disco balls hang from the ceiling, placed strategically throughout the room to allow for the most amount of ambience possible. All of the different colors of the rainbow take their turn cycling through the projector, flashing and shining around the room in their random patterns. It's a very welcoming place to be.

You're the first guests in there, so you're free to choose whatever stage you want. "Which one should we go to?" Jisoo asks, doing a little half spin as she looks around the room. 

"Really, unnie? You have to ask?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs; she thought her best friend knew her better than that. Obviously Lisa wants to go to the big stage. How else would she show off all of her moves while she sings?

"You're so dramatic." Jisoo grumbles, sending the maknae an annoyed look of her own as she's dragged over to the performance area. You, Jennie, and Rosé trail after them, shaking your heads at their behavior. 

----

"Come on, we're going first." You bite back a laugh as you watch Lisa tug Jennie up from her spot on the sofa, where she had just sat down and gotten comfortable. Jennie tries to protest, even pointing at the drink she just got from the bar to convince Lisa to let her stay, but she isn't having it. They walk over to the kiosk built into the wall, and take their time in choosing a song to sing.

Their performance is a wild ride, to say the least. Lisa forgets the words at one point, opting to compensate by freestyling a rap and dancing around wildly while everyone hypes her up. She could've just looked at the lyrics on the stage screen, you realize, but that wouldn't have been even half as fun. Jennie breaks into the box of props sitting just off stage, pulling out a multicolored, frilly scarf and wrapping it around her singing partner. To finish off her own look, she rummages around until she finds a comically large top hat and pair of heart shaped glasses.

"Golden buzzer!" You shout out, pressing an imaginary button on the table. The girls celebrate, and your combined laughter fills the room. 

Next up is Jisoo, who decides to put her charm on full display and serenade all of you. She starts off on stage, letting her deep voice lull you into a state of entrancement before she approaches the couch. She greets each of you individually, giving you separate attention just like a rock star would, and all of you go wild for her. She tries to keep up the edgy, heartthrob persona, but it fades a bit when she cracks a smile, her eyes turning into those adorable crescents that you all love so much.

As her song comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In order to go through with your plan -- that is, singing a song to Rosie -- you have to calm your nerves a bit first. You splash water on your face and sigh as the chilly liquid slides down your skin. A bead of it trails down your neck, soaking into the cotton of your collar the second it hits it, and you're reminded of last night. A familiar warmth runs through you at the memory of Rosé's hands on your body, taking care of you like always. She's the definition of girlfriend material, and you always kick yourself for waiting so long to tell her about your feelings.

A basket of paper towels sits on the marble countertop of the sink, and you reach forward to grab one and dry your face. With one final look in the mirror, you throw the paper away and exit the restroom. 

Too busy mentally preparing yourself for the performance, you fail to notice that Rosé is already standing on the stage, mic in hand. You lift your head as you near the stage, and she makes eye contact with you; she looks nervous, so you give her a reassuring smile and move back to your seat. Behind the nervousness, you can see how excited she is; you're intrigued. 

"So, this song goes out to a very special girl here tonight. I hope you like it." She announces shyly, garnering some applause from the small group of diners that have filtered their way in from the restaurant. She presses play, and shakes her hands out in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety building within her. Up until now, keeping her worries in check had been doable; though as she stands alone on stage, looking down at the object of her affection, she's afraid all over again. And yet, somehow in an instant, you take some of those fears away. You're looking at her with so much love and encouragement in your eyes that Rosé thinks she can accomplish anything. 

The song -- one you're hearing for the first time tonight -- picks up, and she begins.

There are three words, & I want you to know they are true

There are three words, that I've been dying to say to you 

Burns in my heart, like a fire that ain't goin' out

I need to let you know

You're unintentionally holding in a breath as she croons the words out, singing straight to you. Her soulful vocals ring out across the space, making goosebumps appear on your skin; her voice always strikes a certain chord within you, the beautiful tones sounding like Heaven. She makes it feel like you're the only two people in the room; that even the world stopped for a moment to watch this play out.

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The smile on your face can't be wiped away by anything; no natural force of the universe could get in the way of this. Your heart swells at her confession as things finally fall into place. Possessed by the love you hold for the goddess in front of you, you decide to be brave and join her on stage. 

She squeals and covers her face as you approach, and the audience erupts into cheers at this. They whistle and clap loudly, and you can hear the distinct voices of the girls from behind you. Pulling her hands away, Rosé's adorable face is revealed in all its glory. She has tears in her eyes, and they let you know that the past 48 hours have been just as much of an emotional rollercoaster for her as they have been for you.

You press a kiss to the back of her hand, feeling your chest tighten at the way it lightly shakes against your lips. You take a step closer and wrap your arms around her waist as she hooks her right one around your shoulders. Her left hand holds the mic between you two, making it so that you can sing the next part together. 

I've never said, these words to anyone, anyone at all

Never got this close, cause I was always afraid I would fall

But now I know, that I'll fall right in-to your arms

Don't ever let me go

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The entire time you're singing, she can't take her eyes off of you. She watches as your lips move along with the words, your face scrunching up occasionally to aid in hitting all the notes, and she even forgets to keep singing a couple times. You're so close to her, just like last night. She vows that this time will be different, though. 

After you finish the verse, Rosé surges forward, closing what little distance is left between you. During the performance you had gradually migrated closer to one another, so that made her job all the more easy.

She leans into you and smiles at the feeling of your racing heart. It lets her know that this is actually happening -- that after spending so many months waiting to finally confess and have you return her feelings, it's happening.

She tastes the strawberry chapstick on your lips, and it reminds her of the time she told you it's her favorite type. You used to wear a vanilla kind… does that mean you switched to strawberry after she told you that? (Yes, yes it does).

You bring your right hand up to her jaw and cup it as you move to deepen the kiss. A soft groan escapes her lips at this, and she doesn't waste any time in kissing you back even harder than before. It's long-overdue, and she can't get enough of you.

All too quickly, though, Rosie gets lost in the embrace, and the lounge is filled with feedback as the mic drops to the floor. She jumps at the sudden noise before snatching it up, her face crimson with embarrassment. After placing it back on the stand, she turns to hide her face in your neck. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around her again. She snuggles in close to you, and you rest your head against hers.

"Awwww, they grow up so fast!" Jisoo wails, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. 

"Cough it up, Jendeukie." Lisa smirks, sticking a hand out in front of the other girl. Jennie shoots her a glare, but nonetheless reaches to the table in front of her to grab her purse. 

"Not another word, Manoban." Jennie says, shoving the 5 dollar bill into Lisa's waiting palm.

The younger girl clears her throat dramatically before saying loudly, "I TOLD YOU SO! Nobody ever listens to the maknae." 

You and Rosé can't contain your laughter anymore, and neither can the girls.

Soon the two of you are back on the couches, cuddling in the corner seat as the others make kissy noises at you. 

She's nestled up against your side, resting her head against your chest contently. 

"I know we kinda did things out of order and all, but I might as well ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile dorkily as she raises up to look at you, a playful smirk of her own tugging at her lips. 

"Absolutely, Y/N." She has stars in her eyes and a dreamy expression on her features as she leans in to kiss you again. 

[tonguetiedraven]

Neat Notes and Messy Words

Fandom: Blue Exorcist/Ao No Exorcist

Pairing: Bon/Rin

Summary: Rin starts to find notes in his locker and assumes they're for his much more popular twin. (Hardly unreasonable since his feet are always covered in the notes falling out of Yukio's locker.)

Except they might not be for Yukio at all, which begs the question: who is leaving the notes?

Part: One, Two, Three, Four

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

“This is a tremendous waste of paper.” Yukio muttered as he once again scooped up several fallen notes. He’d managed to keep most of them off the floor today. 

It was unbelievable. “Have you seriously never responded? Don’t they get tired?”

“I don’t know.” Yukio shoved the entire lot in a small plastic bag and grabbed the ones that had managed to stay in his locker out as well. “I made a mistake of responding when we were in Middle School, but not here.”

Rin spun his lock and tugged his door open. Nothing fell out, and he was giddy for a moment, until he noticed there was a note sitting on his books.

Not again. Had they just not bothered to read his message? Damn it, was Yukio right? Blowing out an irritated breath, he unfolded it with a few angry movements and glared down at the words.

[Rin Okumura, I know exactly whose locker this is. I’m writing to you, not your brother. This was the only way I could think of to express my admiration and feelings for you. If you still want me to stop, I will.]

Rin actually felt his mouth pop open in surprise as he read the note. He reread it twice to make sure he’d gotten all the words right, but they didn’t change. It was his name on the note, and it was him all the notes had been meant for.

I like your smile.

Your laugh makes my heart flutter.

There’s nothing quite as lovely as the color of your eyes. I’m always looking for it now.

NO! 

“Yukio!” Rin moved from his locker with a sudden panic. Yukio jerked back in surprise and almost dropped his bag. “The notes! The notes I gave you! What happened to them?”

“What?”

Rin grabbed his twin’s arm and didn’t care that he looked insane. “The notes that were in my locker. What did you do with them?!”

Yukio shoved him off. “They’re in the trash, of course.”

Rin sprang across the room to the trash can in question and peered at it. There were a lot of papers, and some wrappers. What were his chances?

But it had a little doodled heart on it, and he couldn’t just let it disappear. Someone had written that his laugh made their heart flutter, and damn it all, he was going to get it back. 

Rin dug his hands into the pile and started to tug everything out. It was a ripped piece of college-ruled paper. It was written in a practical black pen, and the corner had been ripped off. 

He was almost at the bottom with Yukio watching in undisguised alarm by the time he spotted it. There was a stain on the bottom, but the words were still legible, and the partial heart wasn’t damaged.

Holding it over his head victoriously, he darted back to his locker and put it next to the two other notes he still had.

“Rin— you can’t just — what happened?”

Oh, he had left the garbage out… whatever. This was a rich school. Mephisto could pay for someone to clean that up. What did garbage matter when someone was writing these notes to him?

“They were mine.” 

“What?”

Rin motioned to his new collection of notes. “They were meant for me.” Someone liked him enough to send him notes. 

“Oh,” Yukio blinked in surprise, “Congratulations?”

Rin carefully folded each of the notes, smoothing out the one Yukio had crumpled and thrown away, and carefully put them in the zipper pocket of his bag so they wouldn’t fall out. Someone liked his smile. Someone’s heart fluttered when he laughed. Someone liked his eyes. It was enough to make a burning sort of happiness rise up in his chest. Enough to have him swallow a few times and grinning like an utter loon.

He tugged his note off and flipped it around. He scrawled: “Don’t stop” in big letters on the back. After a moment of staring, he added a little heart.

Now he just had to figure out who it was.

His tail wagged the entire way to class. It was still wagging by the time he took his spot next to the training mat. Ryuuji eyed it with a small smile of his own. 

“Good day?” Konekomaru asked while they stretched. 

“The best!” He set his bag down carefully and tried not to stare at the pocket that held his notes as he set to stretching himself. It was harder to ignore Ryuuji stretching his arms high and showing off his muscles.

He was surprised to find himself feeling a little guilty about that. Guilty that it wasn’t whoever had written the letter to him.

What did they look like? Were they nice? Funny? Or serious?

They had to at least be a little funny if they liked him. They liked laughs and smiles. They liked blue. They had feelings for him.

He got wrapped up enough in his thoughts that he didn’t see Ryuuji watching him right back.

[atlafan]

Burning Love - Part Three

a/n: the third and final part of this little series is here! I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are helpful! Support me here if you’re able! (not proofread)

Warnings: cocky!Harry flirting, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, and smut!

Words: 8K

Pairing: Harry x OC (kindergarten teacher Danielle Robinson)

Masterpost

Having a firefighter as a boyfriend was anything but boring. Sometimes Harry was called away in the middle of the night for backup, sometimes he had to straight up sleep at the fire house if someone was on vacation, and sometimes he was cooking up a storm so the guys coming back from a fire had plenty to eat. Danielle would sometimes help cook as well. The guys really liked her turkey chili.

Danielle’s classroom knew who her boyfriend was too, and they loved it when Harry would come by for a visit. He’d bring them little coloring books, or sometimes he’d get Doodle to come for an even better surprise visit.

When they were together three months, Harry made sure no one was in the fire house so she could come to his office, and he gave her a little strip tease. She had practically been begging him to play the part of the sexy fire fighter and he was finally doing it for her. The only condition was that he got to bend her over his desk and fuck her. She even let him hit it raw, it was the greatest mutual gift in the world. Also hearing her moan out, “You’re hitting it so good, don’t stop, Harry!” over and over was pretty nice too.

Yup, things had been going pretty well for the new couple. Even though they were still in the puppy-love phase, it wasn’t all sex all the time. Harry would sometimes come over and help her late into the night as she was crafting activities for her class the next day, or he’d go to the art supply store with her because Danielle never made a list and she would often forget at least one thing she needed for class. Harry always remembered what she’d forget. Danielle was also a big help with the fire department’s fundraising efforts. She made the best hash browns anyone had ever had at the monthly pancake breakfasts. The deputy fire chief even got them a matching set of aprons. Things were going so well that she even started to let him call her Dani.

One Sunday afternoon they were walking through the grocery store together. Harry liked pushing the cart for Danielle as she mumbled to herself about what she needed for the week. She liked that he joined her because he could pick out the snacks he wanted to leave at her place, and vice versa. They were walking down the coffee aisle, Harry liked Hazelnut and Danielle liked French Vanilla.

“Dani?”

Danielle looks over in the direction of the deep voice that said her name. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s her ex, Oliver.

“O-Oliver?”

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” He exclaims, throwing his arms around her. She doesn’t reciprocate. “It’s been what, three years?”

“Something like that.” She swallows, and hooks her arm around Harry’s waist. “This is my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Hi.” Oliver shakes Harry’s hand. “You shop here a lot?”

“Yeah…this is the grocery store closest to my apartment, why?”

“This is my first time as this specific store. My fiancé lives in the area, and we’re choosing to buy a house here so her son won’t have to switch elementary schools.”

“Her…her son?” Danielle wanted to smack him.

“Yeah, guess he’s like my son now too.”

“Olly? Did you find the decaf tea?” A woman long blond hair, and a slightly swollen belly comes rolling her cart down the aisle with a little boy sitting in it. “Oh…Danielle…hi.”

“Hi, Rory.”

“Miss Robinson!” The boy exclaims.

“Hello, Joey.” She tries to say with a smile. Danielle wasn’t sure how she could have been so stupid. Joey took the bus to and from school, and she had only ever spoken with his father. She also didn’t make a second glance at his mother’s name on his contact list since it was under Lorelei.

“Joey raves about you all the time.” Rory says, trying to cut some of the tension.

“Mumma, it’s Chief Harry!”

“Aw, nice of you to remember me, buddy.” Harry says. “Um, we’ve got frozen stuff in the cart, so we should probably get going, right, darling?” He says, looking at Danielle, and she feels thankful for him finding a way out of all this.

“He’s right, we should really get going.”

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, huh, Dani?” Oliver says with a soft smile.

“So it would seem.” She looks at Joey. “See you tomorrow morning in class, Joey.”

Harry pushes the cart as they walk away. She was beyond mortified. They get in line and pay for their things. She had driven there, but she has Harry drive back to her place. She was quiet until they got inside her apartment to put the food away.

“He, uh, seemed a little delusional there, no?” Harry says.

“He’s always lived with his head in the sand.” She scoffs. “Rose colored glasses, you know?”

“Did you not know that-“

“No, I didn’t realize that Rory, the person he cheated on me with, had a son. I knew that she was a married woman. They got divorced because of Oliver.” She shakes her head. “Joey’s father is such a sweet man, I can’t believe I never put the pieces together.”

“How exactly did they meet?”

“The first school I worked at was a K-5 a few towns over. Rory was the principal’s secretary, she still is, I think. I brought Oliver with me to a holiday party, and they got to talking. She’s a couple of years older than he and I are. I don’t exactly know how things progressed from there, but apparently she’s pregnant with his kid, they’re engaged, and they’ve bought a house! Isn’t that just kick you in the crotch, spit on your neck fantastic?”

“Remind me to never watch Friends reruns with you again.” He chuckles.  “I can’t believe he had the nerve to hug you like that?”

“He hugged me like that because he’s still in love with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until I blocked him on literally every platform that I could, he would send me these messages about how he fucked up and that he’d do anything to win me back. He’s in a loveless relationship. He’s made his bed and now he has to lay in it.”

“Does Rory know it’s a loveless relationship?”

“I doubt it. If I had to guess they probably got engaged after they found out she was pregnant. It was probably her way of trapping him.” Danielle rolls her eyes. “You know what they say, once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Well,” he comes around her to hold her from behind, kissing her cheek, “you don’t have to worry about that or pay it any more thoughts, alright?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and turns to kiss him. “I just hope I don’t start running into them all the time now.”

“We could always go to the market near my place, or we could do the online order thing.” He shrugs. “Whatever you wanna do. I just don’t want that idiot making my baby upset.” He pouts at her and she pouts back.

“I love that I get to be your baby.” She sighs as she nuzzles into his chest.

“Me too…I…I love you, Dani.” He kisses her forehead before she looks up at him.

“You do?”

“Mhm.” He smiles. “Guess there’s no perfect time to really say it, but that’s how I feel.”

“Oh, Harry, I love you too.” She kisses him, and blinks some tears away. “Like, a lot.”

“Let’s get these groceries put away, hm? Then I’ll fuck you on the counter. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“I would, very much so.” She chuckles.

//

It was the last day of school, so Danielle had both of her groups in the morning. There was a small ceremony for the kindergarteners to commemorate them being able to move on to the first grade. They each got a personalized certificate with some type of achievement they earned in Miss Robinson’s class. She spent two weeks working on them. Once it was over, Danielle had to clean up her classroom for the summer.

“Happy last day of school, babe.” Harry says as he walks in, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“I think you should ask for a separate office here with how often you come to visit.” She jokes as she takes the flowers. “Not that I’m upset, but what are these for?” She smiles.

“You made it through another year with a group of five-year-olds, thought you should have something nice for it.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful, thank you.” She kisses his cheek. “I’m just finishing up here and then we can grab lunch.”

Harry nods as he waits for her, helping her take a few boxes out to her car. He thought she looked gorgeous today in her light blue sundress. They enjoy their lunch together before Harry has to go back to work.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?” She asks before they part ways.

“Sure.” He pecks her lips. “Want me to bring dinner?”

“No, I can cook. I’ve got stuff to make a taco salad.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” They kiss again and off they go.

Things had gotten quite domestic with one another, and Harry was really starting to like it. He also really liked that she was about to be off for the entire summer. Sure, Harry had bonfires, lawn mowers, grills, and other things of that nature to worry about, but his group of volunteer fire fighters would be coming on once again, so it freed up a little more time for himself. He’d be able to take a vacation with Danielle if she wanted. Or he could just take a ton of long weekends so he could spend some time with her. He wasn’t exactly sure what she did over the summer, but he figures they’ll talk about it soon.

When Harry gets to her apartment later that night, he realizes soon means tonight. Danielle was running around her apartment in a tank top and shorts boxing things up and packing.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing?” He says, startling her.

“Oh! I didn’t even hear you come in!” She gasps and clutches at her chest. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get my shit together. I always save this stuff for the last minute.”

“Are you moving?” He asks, almost frantic.

“What? No.” She chuckles. “But I do need a lot of my things with me for when I go up to Seabrook.”

“Seabrook?”

“To my parents’ summer house. I told you they had one, they’re snowbirds, remember?”

“Yeah, you mentioned that…” He swallows. “Are you going for a long weekend?”

“No, I’m going for the majority of the summer. I was actually sort of hoping you’d be able to water some of my plants, but if you can’t I can ask the neighbor again.” She goes over to him and gives him a kiss. “Come on, I set dinner up in the kitchen for us.”

They both go into the kitchen and sit down with their taco salads.

“You’re sort of blindsiding me a bit, babe. I mean, you’ve known you were going to New Hampshire all this time and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I figured I’d come back on weekends.” She shrugs. “You’re going to be working all day, so I figured you wouldn’t really mind if I wasn’t around as much.” She takes a bite of her food. “I also thought maybe you could come up and visit…you know, meet my family.”

“It’s gonna be torturing not being able to come over and see you after work.” He pouts. “But of course I’d love to meet your family.”

“I know…that’s sort of why I was keeping it to myself. I’ll miss you just the same, I hope you know that. This is just really precious family time that I wait all year for.”

“I get it.” He sighs. “What weekend would you want me to come meet them?”

“I’ll have to ask my parents what weekend would work best for them. The first couple of weeks are spent catching up with their friends, and whatnot. The house is in a fifty-five and over community.”

“And you won’t mind driving back on weekends?”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “All of the traffic will be going the other way, and the beaches are always so crowded on the weekends. It’ll be perfect.” She smiles at him and leans in a bit. “Plus, I’ll be coming back to you with sun kissed skin. I’ll have lots of tan lines to show you.” She winks and it makes him chuckle.

“Alright, alright. I get to use more time off in the summer, so I’ll be able to take lots of long weekends. We have more of a crew because a lot of our volunteers are teachers, so they have more time to help out.”

“That’s good! I’m so happy the school year is over with. Did you see I put the flowers you got me in a vase?” She points over to the vase in her kitchen window.

“I did.” He nods, a smile growing on his lips. “M’glad you liked them.”

“I loved them.” She kisses his cheek. “You’re so sweet to me, Harry.”

“You’ve turned me into a total mush ball.” He sighs. “But I suppose that’s not a bad thing.”

“You were a mush ball the second you walked into my classroom for the first time.” She smirks.

“And you were a flustered little thing.” He smirks as her face falls. “Ah, she can dish it out, but she can’t take it.” He kisses her temple and takes their now empty plates to the sink. “When are you heading up?”

“A couple of days.” She sighs. “I hate packing so much, it’s the worst.” She groans. “I just keep telling myself I’ll be relaxing on a screened in porch soaking in the ocean breeze with a book in my hand before I know it.” She flops down onto her sofa and Harry sits next to her, rubbing her back. “At least I’ll see my niece and nephew soon too. I love getting to spend so much time with them.”

“Tell me about them, I wanna know as much about your family as I can before I meet them.”

“Really?” She sits up to look at them.

“Mhm.” He puts a pillow on his lap. “Come lay one me. I’ll play with your hair while you talk.”

“If I didn’t love you before.” She giggles, and rests her head in his lap. He starts scratching at her scalp and she sighs. “Okay, so, my dad…”

They both fell asleep on the couch that night talking. Harry told Danielle a lot about his family as well. In the wee hours of the morning, Harry carried her to the bed, and they both snuggled up while they got a few more hours of sleep.

//

“Danielle, it’s the middle of the night! Where are you going?!” Her brother Clark asks her in a panic. “Shit, are you crying?”

“I…I just got a call.” She sniffles as she throws her hoody on. “I have to get home.”

“Why, what’s happening.”

“H-Harry’s deputy chief called me…there was a really big fire a few hours ago, and a wall collapsed on him, and now he’s in the hospital.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I have to get home to him, Clark, I need to be there when he wakes up.”

“You’re in no condition to drive, especially not for two hours. I’ll go with you. Let me just go to Isabelle.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’m fine.” She wipes her eyes. “I’ll let you know when I get there. I’ll be back in a few days, I’m sure of it.”

She rushes out of the house and gets into the car. She had the radio practically silent, and she was sucking down an iced coffee. Caffeine put her anxiety into hyper drive, but she needed to stay awake somehow. Harry wasn’t even supposed to be at that fire. He got called in as backup, but he wasn’t supposed to go inside. He went in looking for the family’s new puppy.

Once she gets to the hospital, probably looking like a mad woman in her pajama pants and oversized hoody, she checks in and asks where Harry’s being kept.

“Please, I’m his girlfriend, I need to-“

“Dani!” The deputy chief, Ralph, comes rushing towards her. “He just woke up, come with me.” He yanks her by the wrist before the nurse at the desk can say anything.

“Is he okay?”

“He will be.” Ralph nods. “Here we are, go ahead in. Take your time with him.” Ralph smiles, and Danielle returns it.

“Harry?” She says just above a whisper.

“Hey, baby.” He gives her a soft smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I hopped in my car a second after Ralph called me. I was so worried.” She sits on the edge of his hospital bed.

“I’m okay, sweetheart, just a few scrapes and bruises.”

“Harry…your arm’s in a sling.”

“Just a sprained wrist, it’ll heal up real soon.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” She asks as she curls up next to him. He throws his arm around her and sighs.

“Because if I let every little accident scare me, I wouldn’t be able to do my job properly. This is what I signed up for, babe.”

“Did you at least find the puppy?”

“I did, shielded the poor thing from the wall that collapsed on me. M’gonna have to go on light duty for a while.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“Lots of administrative work…that I can do remotely. So, I was thinking…maybe I could come up to Seabrook with you for a little longer than a weekend.”

“I’d love that! We can drive back up together. Everyone’s excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet them too.”

//

After Harry rested up for a few days at home, with Danielle doting on him even though he told her she didn’t need to, the two drive up north together.

“Auntie Dani’s back!” Sarah exclaims as she bursts out of the porch.

“Sarah!” Isabelle yells after her. “We don’t run out of the house, no matter how excited we are to see Auntie.” She picks her daughter up. “Sorry, Dani.” Isabelle chuckles.

“No worries.” Danielle laughs. “This is my boyfriend, Harry. Harry, this is my sister-in-law Isabelle.”

“Hi.” Harry says, and Isabelle gasps when she sees his arm in a sling. “Just a sprained wrist, m’fine.” “It’s nice to meet you. This must be Sarah, yeah?”

“Hello.” The little girl smiles.

“Come on, everyone’s inside getting ready to head down to the beach.” Isabelle says.

Harry and Danielle follow inside. She takes him into the kitchen where her parents, Robert and Donna were finishing up their coffee.

“Dani!” Donna smiles. “How was the ride back up?”

“Fine, not a lot of traffic once we were out of the city.” She smiles. “This is Harry.”

“The hero that saved the puppy!” Robert says.

“I’m no hero, just did my job. It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for inviting me to your home.” He shakes both of their hands.

“Are you kidding? We were over the moon when Dani said she’d be bringing a boyfriend with her.” Donna says. “Honey, why don’t you help Harry get settled and then meet us down at the beach?”

“Okay.” Danielle nods.

The two bring their things inside while everyone else makes their way to the beach. Danielle helps Harry put his clothes away in the dresser.

“So…are we alone right now?” Harry asks casually after putting his things away in the bathroom.

“Um, yeah. Everyone went down to set up at the beach, why?”

“Well…” He sits down on the bed and tugs her to sit on his lap, straddling her. “I haven’t been able to do much the last few days, and I’d like to make up for it.”

“Harry.” Her face flushes. “I can’t just fuck you here.”

“In the privacy of a bedroom? Here I was thinking this would be the perfect place.” He rolls his eyes.

“I just…” She bites her bottom lip. Before she can say anything when she opens her mouth again, he’s kissing her. “Fuck, okay, but we have to be quick. And no leaving marks, I don’t need to feel like a teenager at the age of twenty-seven.”

“How about no marks in any visible places?”

“Harry, I’m gonna be wearing a two piece, a lot is going to be visible.”

“Your ass?”

She whimpers softly and kisses him again. They both fall back on the bed, careful not to hurt his wrist. Danielle ended up riding his dick since he couldn’t really prop himself up with hands at the moment, but neither of them minded. It was a much-needed release for the both of them. Once they’re both cleaned up, they change into their bathing suits and go down to the beach to join her family.

“Auntie Dani, do you wanna dig a moat with me?” Ryan asks her the second she sets her things down.

“Sure! Just let me get some sunscreen on, okay?”

“You’re already looking a little red.” Clark remarks, and she glares at him. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Same to you.” Harry says as he sits down in his beach chair.

Danielle peels her coverup off, and lathers up in sunscreen before grabbing a sand toy to help Ryan dig a moat. Isabelle was down by the water with Sarah.

“Harry, do you like seafood?” Donna asks him.

“I do.” He nods.

“Wonderful, I thought it would be nice to go out to eat since you’re here with us now. Celebrate having a full house and whatnot.”

“Oh, well…that sounds nice, thanks.” Harry smiles at her.

“I hope you won’t be too miserable working from inside the house…there’s no central air or anything.” Robert says.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Heat doesn’t exactly bother me.” He smirks, and Danielle flicks some sand at him. “Oi, what was that for?!”

“No fire fighter jokes or puns.” She points a finger at him warningly. “We’re on vacation.”

“Come on, that was a good one, admit it.”

“I will do no such thing.” She looks at her parents who were chuckling at the exchange. “Don’t encourage him, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Anyways,” he side eyes her and then looks back at her parents, “I’ll probably just set up on the porch when I need to hop onto email. My deputy chief is taking on a bit more for me for the next couple of weeks.”

Harry never really saw himself being a dad someday, but as the day went on, and he watched Danielle interact with Sarah and Ryan, he suddenly understood why women would get baby fever seeing a man hold a baby. He may have only been with Danielle for five months, but fuck…he wanted to be the father of her kids. Yes, he got to spend an entire week with her and her classroom, but it’s not like he got to witness her loving on any of the kids. The way she cradled four-year-old Sarah to her chest as she napped, or splashed around in the water with Ryan, well, if he had ovaries they’d be bursting.

Seeing her help them at dinner was just as cute too. Sarah insisted that her booster chair be places next to Danielle, and Danielle ended up helping cut up Sarah’s chicken fingers. Then Harry got to witness Danielle tucking Sarah and Ryan in for the night to give Clark and Isabelle a break.

The two decide to turn in a bit early since it had been a long day. Danielle was sitting up in bed reading her romance novel. Harry was reading the same one. They had formed a little book club with another once they found out they liked the same genre of fiction.

“Dani?” He says to her.

“Hm?” She says without looking at him.

“Do you think you wanna have kids of your own one day? Or are your kindergartners enough kids for you?”

She immediately closes her book and looks at him. She was a little shocked.

“I…I always thought if I met the right person then I’d want to have kids. Like, turning that love into something physical, you know? What’s got you asking me about kids all of a sudden?”

“In all honesty…watching you with Ryan and Sarah today sort of sparked my interest. You’re so good with them in so many different ways. I…I mean I never really thought twice about having kids, but if you and I decide this is a long term thing…I’d love to be the person you have kids with.”

“Thought you didn’t like playing the what if game.” She leans in and pecks his lips.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, so, it’s not an if with us, Harry, it’s a when.”

He smiles and kisses her tenderly.

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” He says against her lips before kissing her again.

//

The school year was just about to start again. Classes would begin just after Labor Day. How were Harry and Danielle spending their long weekend? Well, she was currently bouncing up and down on his dick reverse-cowgirl on her couch while he sucked a nasty bruise into her neck, rubbing her clit with one hand, and kneading one of her breasts with the other. She felt like she was drooling from how good everything felt. The two of them had both tanned nicely over the summer, and now they Danielle was fully back in her apartment, Harry was taking full advantage.

“Fuck, fuck!” She pants. Harry was thrusting up into her, pounding against her g-spot.

It was how she liked it, she didn’t care if she was sore later, and he was happy to give it to her like this. She turns her head slightly and she licks into his mouth to suck on his tongue. He replaces his tongue in her mouth with two of his fingers, which she was happy to suck on while his fingers continued to work her clit. They had been together for a while now, and sometimes when you were a little older, time didn’t make much of a difference when you were trying to check off certain boxes with the person you loved most. So, Harry just blurts out what he’s thinking.

“I think we should move in together.” He grunts, and she gasps around his fingers.

“Wh-what?” She says, whining because she’s so very close. This wasn’t the type of talk she enjoyed during sex. “Harry, please, I’m almost there, can we talk about this after?” She tugs at his hair, making him groan.

He grips her hips, helping her rock faster on him, and she goes to rub her own clit. He was fucking so hard and deep that she thought her spine was going to crack in half, but she didn’t fucking care. She wanted it. He hits it just right again, and her eyes roll into the back of her head as her back arches, her body molding into his as she rides it out. His come shoots up inside her a moment after, and he presses his lips to her temple. She tries to move off him, but he wraps his arms around her tummy to keep here there.

“Can we talk now?” He breathes, his breath hot on the shell of her ear and she whimpers. “I really think we should live together.”

“And whose place do you want to live at, hm? We’re both pack rats, Har. We both need home offices, we both-“

“Just answer the question: do you want to live together?”

“Yes.” She looks over her shoulder at him. “I do.”

“Okay, then.” He smiles and gently lifts her off of him. “Right when we started dating, I got pre-approved for a home loan.” He wraps her up in the blanket she has on the couch and carries her into the bedroom so they can both lay down before cleaning themselves up. “I put the house hunting on hold, obviously…I’d need to get pre-approved again since the three-month window they gave me lapsed, but…I can afford a pretty decent house.” He smiles fondly at Danielle. She had that after sex glow to her, and it always made him melt.

“You…you can afford a house?”

“I can.” He nods. “Been saving up for a while. I was sort of hoping…well…we could look at houses together. I could buy it, and then we could split the mortgage payments, or I could just pay the mortgage and you could take care of the utilities and other bills. Whatever makes more sense.” He shrugs. She blinks a few times and then licks her lips.

“I just…wow, I can’t believe you wanna do something so huge with me. Buying a house with someone is a pretty big deal.”

“I feel like it makes more sense to buy the house first, and then save back up for a wedding later, but that’s just me.” He gives her a smug look and her eyes widen. “I think that’s why the divorce rate is too high, not enough people live together before they get married.” A grin starts to form on her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, we’ve talked about long-term stuff before.”

“We’ve talked about hypothetical babies, not buying a house. Do you already have a realtor?”

“No, and we don’t really need one. We can just look up the houses we wanna see and contact the realtor that’s selling the home. A friend of mine did that and they said it was a way better experience.”

“I can’t believe this.” She shakes her and then giggles, throwing her arms around his neck. “You wanna be us a house! I wish I could help with the down payment, but my student loans have prevented me from putting a lot into my savings…”

“It’s no problem. You’re able to afford this place on your own, so I figured you’d be able to help with bills and stuff.”

“I definitely will be able to.” She kisses his cheek. “Let’s go take a shower and then we can start looking on realtor.”

“Eager.” He smirks as she tugs him up from the bed.

“Now’s the time to buy! All of the snowbirds who are looking to make the big plunge to warm weather full time will be looking to get rid of their houses, and with the school year starting we don’t really have to worry about competing with families. It’s perfect, Harry!”

It was, it really was.

//

By the beginning of October, the two were moved into a stunning home with four bedrooms, and four baths. They got just about everything on their wish list, and anything they didn’t, Harry said he could make happen. Danielle was able to pass out candy for Halloween to the kids in the neighborhood, which delighted her to no end because a few of her new and previous students stopped by. And when it came time for Thanksgiving, even though they weren’t full unpacked, Danielle was able to host a fabulous dinner for her family.

It wasn’t always perfect, they disagreed on paint colors, furniture, curtains, and rugs. They usually found some way to compromise, though. Sometimes Danielle had trouble checking her attitude at the door. There was one evening she got home a little later than usual, so Harry got dinner started. A nice gesture on his part, which she thanked him for. However, when it came time to clean up, she wouldn’t stop huffing while she loaded the dishwasher.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” He finally asks. “Why are you reorganizing everything?”

“Because you never put anything in here right.” She snaps. “Bowls and cups go on the top rack. Look at this! You put one of the little plates up here, how the fuck is that supposed to get cleaned properly?” She says as she moves the small plate to the bottom rack. “You also don’t load the silverware correctly. Did you want me to stab myself?! I’m usually the one that has to unload it.” She huffs again after throwing a pod in and turning the dishwasher on. She crosses her arms and looks at him. “I’m your girlfriend, not your mother.”

“I never said you were.” He crosses his arms as well, astonished at her tone.

“Yeah? So, did you think that your dirty socks and underwear just magically picked themselves up and put themselves into your hamper? Did you think that the bed magically gets made? Did you think that the broom and dustpan do a little fucking dance and that’s how the shmutz on the floor gets cleaned up?!”

“You’re making it seem like I don’t do anything to help out around here. I’m the one that rakes the leaves and mows the lawn, I’m the one that has to stop what I’m doing to come kill a bug every time you yelp, I’m the one that takes care of all the trash in the house-“

“Only when I say something about it overflowing. I have to tell you to do everything!”

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t load the dishwasher in the way that you’d prefer, but the dishes get clean, so-“

“No, they don’t. I either have to run it again, or I wash the stuff by hand. We’re gonna have kids someday, Harry, I don’t want them picking up on your bad habits.”

“My bad habits?!” Okay, now he was getting angry. “I have to ask you to clean your hair out of the shower drain. In fact, your hair is fucking everywhere! You never wipe off the mirror after you pop a pimple, which you know you shouldn’t be doing anyway.” He rolls his eyes. Her face falls into a deep frown. “Not so much fun when someone’s pointing out your flaws, is it?”

“Fuck off.” She turns on her heel and makes her way out of the kitchen.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. You’re going to start an argument with me, but you’re not going to finish it?” He says as he follows her out to the staircase.

“You asked me what was wrong, and I told you.” She states.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” Her eyes widen with anger at that, and her nails press into her palms. She starts stomping her way upstairs. “Dani.” He sighs. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that.” He follows her up the stairs.

“But you did.” She goes into the bedroom and almost shuts the door in his face, but he catches it, making his way in. “You men are all the same, you know that? Any time a woman calls you out on some crap, she’s a bitch.”

“You got upset over something as insignificant as loading a dishwasher. You know we’re lucky to even have one? There are people who don’t have the luxury.”

“Yeah, I know! And I’d probably be the one to always be washing the dishes.”

“If it bothered you that much, then why didn’t you say something to me before?”

“Because I didn’t want to come off as naggy! I don’t want to be one of those women that’s always telling their partner what to do and how to do it, but holy fuck, who actually raised you?! I mean, some of the things you do, I just don’t understand.” She shakes her head.

“We were obviously raised differently.” He sighs. “You know if you just told me-“

“But I don’t want to have to tell you! I don’t want to have to ask because I shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Dani!”

“I’m not asking you to be! But when the sink is full of dishes, do you think you could take care of it without me having to mention it? Do you think that when the trash is full you could just bag it up and take it and put a new bag in? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve accidentally thrown something out without a bag being in the barrel. It drives me bananas!”

“Okay, I’ll…I’ll try to be better about those things. I don’t want you to feel like you’re having to pick up after me.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“And…I’ll try to not just explode on you when something’s been bothering me.” She sits on the bed and lays back. “Ugh, I just had a long day. Kids are starting to get colds, and the meeting I had after school just wouldn’t end, I’m supposed to get my period in a couple of days so I feel bloated and gross.” Harry sits down next to her and rubs her thigh. He looks down at her with a soft smile. “Listen to me.” She sighs. “Here I am complaining about stupid things when you literally put your life at risk every time you go to work.”

“Don’t compare us, babe. You’re allowed to feel annoyed and stressed.”

“How do you always stay so calm?” She tugs him down to lay with her.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to stay upset when I have such a cute girlfriend.” He kisses her cheek and she giggles.

“I’m sorry I got so mad.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses her cheek again. “We’re bound to have an argument once in a while. The most important thing is that we always make up afterwards.”  He starts kissing on her neck and she bites her bottom lip.

“Harry, I just told you that I feel bloated and gross, and-“

“So, let me make you feel not gross.” He says as he moves on top of her. “Let me love on you, darling, it’ll help you destress.” He moves her up the bed until he’s situated between her legs. He undoes her pants and drags them down her legs. “Are you wearing boxer-briefs?” He questions.

“Y-yeah? I started buying them a little while ago. They’re more comfortable, and they breathe better. Plus, no panty lines.”

“How did I not notice this?” He blinks.

“Because I usually change when I get home into something a little sexier.” She chuckles.

“Actually…” He tugs on the band and lets it snap back against her skin. “You look pretty sexy in these.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He tugs them off of her and kisses on her tummy. He parts he legs and licks around her folds. She sighs and lets her body rest into the mattress.

“I really feel like I don’t deserve this since I was so nasty to you.” She says as she cards her finger through his hair.

“You can make it up to me by letting me fuck your mouth afterwards. Seems like you could use a break from running it, hm?” He sucks on her clit, making her groan, and she nods.

“Yeah, seems fair to me.” She gasps as he licks into her warm center, and uses his thumb on her clit. “Would you make me come a few times, though, at least?”

Her gives her a devilish smirk, which she takes as a yes while he continues to work his tongue in and out of her. He gave her four orgasms before crawling up her body and stuffing his throbbing down her throat. Feeling her nails dig into his hips as he thrusted in and out of her was everything he needed. They didn’t do stuff like this often. He didn’t want to be one of those couples where certain types of sex or positions were used as punishments. But he knew Danielle genuinely enjoyed feeling a little bit of pain, not that they’d ever talked about it. He didn’t want to embarrass her by bringing up one of her very obvious kinks. Whenever he did fuck her throat, though, she always moaned around him, and she’d end up drenched between her legs all over again, so he knew she enjoyed it. He also made sure to love on her right afterwards, praising her, telling her how good she did for him, and he’d get a glass of water for her to sip on while he cleaned her up. They had good, healthy relationship in many aspects. He loved her, he really fucking loved her, and he never wanted to be without her.

“Dani, fuck, I love you, I love you so much, shit!” He cries out as he comes down her throat. He pulls away from her carefully and she smiles up at him after swallowing. He wipes a few stray tears away from her cheek.

“I love you too.” She says, voice hoarse, but still there.

“Do you feel like taking a bath tonight? I could rub your shoulders for you.”

“I’d like that, yeah, thanks.”

//

A couple of months later, and it was fire safety week once again. They made it through their first holiday season together, and his thirty-third birthday. Now they had been together an entire year, owned a home together, and were looking into potentially getting a dog. Harry had told her all about the senior dogs at the shelter, and Danielle sort of liked the idea of not having to train a puppy, even if they were undeniably cute.

All of the kids in both of Danielle’s groups knew that Chief Styles was Miss Robinson’s very special friend because she had a picture of the two of them on her desk, and one of him as her desktop wallpaper. It was no surprise that some of the kids teased them a bit, and asked some personal questions, but other than that the week was going well as it usually did. When Friday rolled around, it was time for the kids to put on their performance for the fire department. It was an assembly all of the grades came to, along with the other teachers. Once the four songs, and a skit, are over, Harry goes up to give his thanks just as he did last year.

“Thank you all so much for another fantastic week. Fire safety is extremely important to learn at a young age. I know we had a lot of fun together, but remember, when you’re missing Chief Styles, don’t call 911 to talk to him. Have your parent or guardian come down to the fire house, and we can say hello there, alright?” That was usually where the assembly would end, but today things were going to go a little differently. “If I could have all of the kids back up on stage for a moment? Parents, I promise this won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

Danielle was visibly confused because she hadn’t planned anything else with the students, and Harry hadn’t mentioned adding anything special today. So, she sat in her seat in the front row and watched. She leaned over next to one of her colleagues.

“Do you know what’s going on?” She asks.

“Just watch, Dani.” Her colleague says, and Danielle sits up straight in her seat again.

All of the kids were holding a piece of paper in their hands. It was facing blank towards the audience. Some of them were giggling as Harry and the other fire fighters placed them in certain spots. Ralph gives Harry a thumbs up, and he starts speaking into the microphone again.

“Not a lot of people know this, or maybe they do, I don’t really know, but last year was my first year getting to host fire safety week with the lovely Miss Robinson, and over this last year she’s managed to steal my heart, giving me the great privilege of calling her my girlfriend.” The kids behind him snicker and giggle. “You said you’d all be cool, come on.” He looks over at Danielle, who still really had no idea what the fuck was going on. “Miss Robinson, could you come here for a moment?”

She nods, and gets up slowly, walking over to him. He takes one of his hands in hers.

“What are you doing?” She whispers.

“You’ll see.” He winks. “Miss Robinson has taught her kids how to spell lots of interesting words already this year. She teaches them how to sound things out, and all that good stuff. I had a chance to teach them something this week and they’ve been dying to show you.” He tugs her to the side so the whole audience will be able to see. “Alright, kids, flip your papers over to show Miss Robinson.”

She gasps when she sees it, cupping a hand over her mouth as her eyes start to well up. All of the papers spelled out: M I S S – R O B I N S O N – W I L L – Y O U – M A R R Y – M E ? She looks at Harry, who was now down on one knee, holding up a gorgeous ring in a little black, velvet box.

“It says, Miss Robinson, will you marry me?” He says to her with a beaming smile.

“I can see that.” She says, wiping some tears from her cheeks.

“Will you?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” Everyone in the room cheers as Harry slips the ring on her finger. He stands up, and kisses her, not to vulgarly because there were kids around, but enough to show how happy he was that she said yes. “When did you have the time to plan all of this with them?”

“Got their parents’ emails from one of the other teachers.” He smirks. “Are you surprised?”

“I’m shocked!” She turns to her students. “You all kept such a big secret from me!” They crowd around her to hug her as she opens her arms for them.

A ton of the teachers, parents, and fire fighters all come up to the congratulate the pair. Once all of the fuss is over, and the cafeteria is cleared, Harry and Danielle go back to her classroom so she can pack up her things for the day.

“Do you like the ring?” He asks nervously.

“Are you kidding, I love it! It’s so beautiful, baby.” She pecks his lips. “I can’t wait to call my parents, I’m buzzing! Think of how cute Sarah’s going to be as a flower girl. Oh, and they’ll start calling you Uncle Harry, how sweet!”

“Gonna have to let Ryan be a groomsman, or I think he’ll try to kill me.” Harry chuckles. “He’s quite protective over his Auntie Dani.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She presses her finger to his chest. He leans in and kisses her tenderly. Normally, Danielle didn’t like getting so lovey dovey in her classroom, but she figured she had a good excuse in case anyone walked in. “I still can’t believe you planned all of that and pulled it off. Those kids usually can’t keep a secret.”

“I promised them all a ride in one of the fire trucks if they kept their mouths shut.”

“Damn, that was really smart.” She chuckles.

“I’d say so.” He smirks. “Do you feel like going out to eat tonight to celebrate? Ralph and his husband were hoping to treat us.”

“Sure.” She nods. “I’ll just need to cancel my yoga classes really quick.”

“You can still teach your classes if you want. I can just tell him we won’t be ready until later.”

“No, see, I wanna go home, and stay there for a bit.” She tugs on the suspenders that were keeping his fire pants up. “I’d like to celebrate with you privately first, Chief Styles.” She takes his hat off and puts it on her own head before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it. He groans into the kiss, and she lets his lip snap back. He had inadvertently put her into one of her ‘Chief Styles/Miss Robinson’ moods, which he wasn’t upset about in the least. “How’s that sound?”

“Well, Miss Robinson, I’d say it sounds like you’re trying to seduce me.” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes. It was her least favorite joke.

“I can’t wait to be Danielle Robinson Styles so that you can’t make that stupid fucking joke anymore. I’m not a forty-year-old woman seducing a recent college grad!” His face softens immensely. “What?”

“Nothing.” He puts his hands on her hips and gives her a squeeze. “I just…I didn’t think you’d want to change your name, is all.”

“Harry, I’d be proud to be called Mrs. Styles. Think of how cute it’ll be after we get married and I have a new class, and then when you come in for fire safety week, I’ll be able to say my husband, Chief Styles.” She pouts at him.

“Alright, it’s time we get you home before my stiffy pops through my pants.”

She giggles as she grabs her bag, and they both rush out of her classroom, and out to the car. They held hands the while way home, not wanting to be apart from one another’s touch for even a second.

[misamerglova]

Headcanon - Levi’s teahouse

I’m still coping with chapter 139, don’t judge me... 

Also, I’m not a native speaker so ya know, deal with it... :D 

Levi opened a small teahouse in the port after he physically recovered from that shitshow. It was more like a group effort really since he didn’t feel like doing anything for months and it was that teahouse project that actually got him out of his letargy. Connie, Jean, Reiner, Pieck, Annie and Armin more or less pushed him into it and helped him set it up.

Levi got a small property in the port which was nothing much in the beginning, just an old ugly house reaking of old cabbage and dirt. But one day the younglings showed up and helped him clean it up - and it was A LOT of work.

Jean coated the walls with the perfect shade of dark green. Connie brought the furniture couple of weeks later since he got into woodwork as a hobby after the war. Than Reiner showed up and provided Levi with a bunch of crooked teapots since he decided to try a pottery class as a part of his therapy. Levi was suspicious that they all ganged up on him with the teahouse project as a part of HIS therapy but they were all so casual about it that he decided to be chill about it.

Reiner later opened a small pottery business close to Levi’s teahouse and brought him more cups and pots - each of them better than the one before, with the most delicate floral paintings made by his mum. Pieck stopped by one day and brought with her the most adorable tea warmers she knitted. Levi would never admit that to her but he admired her pattern since he was not able to knit himself now with his two fingers missing.

One day a cart stopped by, bringing bunch of carpets, books and other treasured possesions from the previous Survey Corps headquarters. Apparently, Armin pulled some strings to had it delivered there. Armin came with Annie a couple days later to help Levi unpack only to find the captain sleeping in his wheelchair burried under a pile of Hange’s notes, Erwin’s reports and Moblit’s doodles. They left the captain sleep and unpacked it without him. Levi later woke up and instructed them to put some of the books into shelves on the walls - that way any visitor who comes into the teahouse would have access to it, he said.

Not long after that, Connie stopped by and brought Levi an empty wooden sign with a chain. At that time Levi KNEW they all plotted this teahouse diversion for him to stop being depressed and alone but he had to admit that their plan had worked. He was really kinda glad he had something to work on. And so Levi spent days by painting all the letters to his liking and asked Onyankopon to help him hang it in the street above the newly coated door.

He named the place ‘Teas of freedom’. Occasionally Levi calls it a shithole since it’s in the port and sometimes the smell from the streets gets in. Secretly he doesn’t mind though because it reminds of Hange’s lab.

He was really touched by all that effort everybody put into it, especially after Nicolo got to the port with the news of a great deal for tea delivery. Levi decided that any of them can have tea on the house any time they show up and any time they need a place to crash, to calm down or to contemplate, his teahouse would be always opened for them.

On the opening day everybody came and Levi got the best fruit pastries in the town and gave each of them a slice - a gesture that none of them understood but all of them appreciated. The pastries brought back the memories of the Survey Corps and Levi thought of all his fallen comarades when he saw all the remaining folks he fought with on that day sitting around tables, drinking tea and jokingly talk about their lives. It would seem that Reiner was still pinning for Historia and Armin asked Annie to marry him. Jean was really popular among the local ladies but everybody kept teasing him about his horse face. Well, everybody but Pieck. It was strange that she was the only one who did not join on the joke. Levi made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on those two. Hange would surely enjoy that piece of gossip.

In the teahouse, there are pictures of all the veterans on the walls. Some of them are Moblit’s paintings that Levi got framed, some of them he commisioned by a local artist who was firstly very excited to work with a war hero. That was before he discovered Levi’s perfecionalism. He than got really stressed out whenever Levi stopped by and commisioned a new painting. Nevertheless, the paintings are spot on and they make the teahouse look very homey. Above the counter there is a beautiful picture of Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba and the whole Levi squad and Levi is extremelly proud of that one because the likeness of everybody is just perfect. Also, Connie made great frames for it. Armin once jokinly said that it’s too bad that there is no picture of 104th trainees squad as well. Little does he know that such a painting is already in the making and Levi intends it as a wedding gift for him and Annie next month.

On the wall above the door hangs Levi’s green coat and his blades crossed as a sign that the war is over for him. He likes looking at that from time to time since it reminds him of the good old days. He reads the paper every morning so he knows that the times are turbulant again but he hopes that it will not escalate this time. He wouldn’t admit it but he’s tired of fighting.

Levi lives in a small room behind the teahouse but spends most of his time outside. There is quite a large garden in the back of the house. Part of is accesible for guests with an old bench and a large log that Connie brought as a table, but part of it is private. There he grows flowers and stuff for his tea and he’s very proud of the selection of the herbs he has there. He used Hange’s notes to purchase some of them and she was right - they taste excellent when blended with the tea leaves.

It was surprisingly Mikasa who helped him set up the garden. She showed up one day in his backyard, digging in the dirt, saying nothing at all. He joined her and neither of them did speak. They planted seeds he bought previously on the market and the next day she showed up again, this time with some new flowers. They continued to work on the garden until it was all done. The last thing they did was planting a tree. Levi brought the seed from a forrest where he once wished he could stay with a women he loved and it brings him both sorrow and joy to see the tree grow. There is a seagul that often sits in the branches and Levi thinks it’s a bit weird but whatever, the place is close to the sea and there are seaguls everywhere. Some time ago he found a strand of red fiber under the tree - it looked suspiciously like from the Mikasa’s scarf which is weird because Mikasa hasn’t visited much since he opened the teahouse.

Gabi and Falco are both working in the teahouse since Levi is not much fond of interactions with people and he likes to prepare and brew the tea more than serving it. He has a wide selection of teas and the mysterious names are often a headscratcher for the new guests. When in a good mood, Levi is keen to explain the meaning behind the names. Lately, he’s been in a good mood more often than not which is a progress.

There is a peculiar tea which has a weird dirty color and smells like crap but tastes the most sweet. It’s called Four-eyes. There is also a tea served in a very tall cup that has a rich floral aroma that changes nicely in time. That one is called Mike’s selection. You can also get Erwin’s choice, which is the finest green tea you can get served with a breakfast. There is also Eyebrows, which is a blend of lovely golden color and Levi sometimes says that it’s against constipation. Noone knows if he’s joking or not. There is also one tea called Monke which reaks of shit and probably is made of shit as well. Noone knows because this tea is so notoriously known that noone orders it, ever. If you ask nicely and catch Levi on a good day he will serve you with his speciality called No regrets. Its smell will strike you with a sudden melancholy and when you drink it, it leaves you with a bittwersweet taste in your mouth.

The younglings don’t know that Levi secretly prepares some new flavors that he wants to name after them. Colossal tea is hot and spicy chilly drink with steam coming out of it and there is also a new blend that smells like stables - a special tea dedicated to Jean. There is one that smells like smoked meat and Levi thinks it would be suitable to name it the Braus special. There is also one special tea blend which is so strong that it almost blows your head off. Levi plays with a thought of naming it suicidal blockhead or a little brat. He thinks Hange would appreciate that joke. He plans to announce those new flavors next time he sees all of the kids again.

Since Reiner’s pottery business started booming, Levi asked him to make him two variations of teasets. You can now get a tea size human or titan. It’s a silly pun but everybody seems to like it.

Overall, the teahouse is a good place to be in and all the survivors visit everytime they get a chance. Armin and Annie promised to get there more one they finnish the wedding preparations. Reiner visits basically everyday after his work along with Onyankopon and they just sit there with Levi, drink tea and silently listen to Gabi and Falco who are always there with the newest town gossip. Also, Jean secretly plans to ask Pieck on a date there.

As for Levi, he likes the place enough. Yeah, it smells like shithole somethimes. But it’s a new home for him and it provides him with purpose and peace he never knew. In the room behind the teahouse he has a small bed and above it one more painting he commisioned. It’s a picture of a forrest cabbin with a women sitting in front of it. Levi insisted the artist painted her exactly like on Moblit’s sketches and he made the artist remake it several times until it was perfect. Everytime Levi looks at it it’s like a path to a different life, the one he could have taken but didn’t because the choice wasn’t really his. He doesn’t regret it though. He knows he will get there in time. But for now he has his teahouse. And with it finally, his new-found family and peace.

[midnightmoonkiss]

Esoteric.

Witch!Izuku Midoriya X Fem!Reader

Summary: What was a witch, exactly? Someone who casts spells? Dabbled in medicine? Fought in battles? You didn’t know. That was, until you met one.

WARNINGS!: Soft!Dom!Izuku, Face-sitting, Fingering, Potion-play

Category: Smut

Word Count: 7.3k (more than half is like.. pure smut..)

A/N: The final day of the Izumonth Collab!

P.S. I really love Witch!Izuku, idk if you can tell,,, Also, I made the witch!collage above! ‘Tis just to suck you into the mood. And sorry this was.. a bit late.. heheh,,,

Just To Clarify:

You’re both consenting adults

Witches, though actually fairly rare, are seen as common beings

Witches aren’t human

Fantasy-ish au!

Tag List:

@coupsieddori​ @desia2​ @strwbrry-lia​ @my-bnha-things​

Every castle has a witch.

It’s been that way for as long as you, or anyone else, could remember.

It was normal.

Mundane to some.

Just something you’d hear about time and time again.

They were workers, just like you. 

But yet, that never stopped your sense of wonder.

They never were in plain sight, not for a peasant such as yourself, anyway.

It always brought up so many questions whenever you’d stop to think about it. 

What did they look like?

Were they nice, or wicked?

How did their magic work?

What did they wear?

Depending on the kingdom, most witches were treated like royalty, especially those who worked in castles.

Of course, how could someone so powerful not have such a title?

It made you question if it was given out of fear, or respect.

It wasn’t until you met the witch of Thidel castle, the ever-so-generous Izuku Midoriya, that your questions were all willingly answered.

You truly weren’t anticipating meeting him during such a catastrophe of a day. Looking back, it was quite embarrassing.

You were the baker’s assistant, tasked with making the batter to elaborate sweets for the King’s ball that evening.

The flour was freshly ground from the mill, the vanilla was as pure as a white daisy, the sugar ever-so-sweet, eggs fetched that morning, everything was perfect.

In fact, everything was running all nice and smoothly, until the King decided to ask for triple the amount of baked goods he had originally requested.

Not only did that mean running to town and back in shoes already falling apart, but that also meant stirring and stirring and stirring until it felt as if your arms were on fire and about to melt off.

You were covered in ingredients and sweat, the other bakers and assistants were running around, spilling things on each other, and making large messes as they pulled their hair out to get everything done on time.

It was chaos.

And that’s when he showed up.

You forgot what he was originally there for, herbs, perhaps?

Batter smudged on your cheek, you were carrying a large sack of flour to the mixing station when the door opened.

You slipped comedically on an egg that had fallen on the floor, and of course, you had to slam into this sudden brick wall of a man.

White powder flew everywhere, and the clock stopped in your head as you watched in horror as the last bag of flour you had was just about to spill all over the dirty cobblestone.

That’s when you saw it for the first time.

Magic.

He had simply flicked his wrist and all of the flour was back in its bag, and such a high ranking individual was on his knees, sputtering apologies to you.

To you, of all people.

A lowly peasant.

It felt unreal.

But that was how you met him.

He looked up and the first image he had of you forever imprinted in his head was wild (H/C) hair coated in sweat and flour, cheeks smudged with chocolate and dried batter, eyes wide with panic, and cheeks a burning red.

He never let you live it down, the bastard.

That night at the ball, you met him again. He had the gall to note how you cleaned up fast, all while sheepishly smiling at you like you were the only girl in the room.

You wanted to punch him at the time. Or die of embarrassment. He was still the witch after all, and never before had someone so high class spoken to you before. You were filled with so many emotions that night, you were sure you were going to throw up.

Instead, you smiled, offered him a pastry, and walked away.

He just had to follow you, though.

His reason being, “I was looking for some entertainment at such a boring event.”

It had made you laugh, as IF you were any entertainment. From then on, though, after having spent an entire night chatting the time away, he was as hooked on you as you were with him.

Nowadays, you got to frequent his studies often.

A privilege not many had, as apparently- witches were quite stubborn with letting people into their sanctuary and touching their things.

Perhaps it was a possessive trait of theirs, one that kept them from misplacing important potions, books, and ingredients, but nevertheless you were absolutely honored to be allowed somewhere so.. otherworldly.

The King and his youngest son were the only ones besides yourself allowed in.

But stepping inside would always be a slap to the face, no matter how many times you actually did enter.

It wasn’t exactly clear to you how he did it, or how the witch before him did it, but the small study tucked away on the east wing of the castle wasn’t a small study at all.

The old, heavy brown door was signed with words of a language unknown to you and others, the hinges creaking ever so slightly as you pulled it open, only to be met with a two-story home inside.

Your nose was always immediately hit with the earthy scent of rain and plants, no doubt from the plethora of the heavenly greens hanging about the place, glowing orbs of light hovering near the ones doomed to never touch true sunlight.

The place was cluttered yet neat, parchments piling up in one corner, yet another where they laid organized.

It was almost like a different world crafted by steady and loving hands.

Old maps were tacked to one of the walls, scribbled writing and red circles pointing out certain areas of the land beyond the one you knew.

Witches apparently had their own realm, or at least, “a pocket of Earth hidden away from humans by magic”, as Izuku had thoughtfully explained one night as a thunderstorm raged on outside.

Old books smelling of age are scattered about, the large bookshelf barely able to contain them all.

Candles lit by a green flame surround a large wooden table, herbs such as chamomile, ginger, ginseng, valerian, lavender, and saffron are neatly placed by a bowl, wrapped in bundles. Clearly, he was going to try and make some more anti-depressant mixture for the prince again.

He was more of a naturalist when it came to the sick, unless worse came to worse.

He was essentially a glorified doctor who was far more knowledgeable on plants rather than bone structure and types of sickness.

He was a sweetheart who helped all he could.

Hell, he was even taken to some battles as a last defense.

Despite looking so innocent, with his baby fat still hugging his cheeks and freckles splattered all about, the definition of youth, he was quite powerful.

Scarily so.

You had heard hushed whispers from fellow servants about how he had taken down armies alone multiple times before, coming back with nothing but burns and a broken bone or two.

He was terrifying to those who didnt take a mere second to glance at him.

But those who did were greeted with nothing but a warm smile and the fleeting wave of a busy man.

It was a mystery how you had managed to capture his undivided attention, enough so that he had made you his, the plain-looking bracelet made from leather string holding an emerald sealed with magic signifying that.

You were untouchable.

Once gutted with fear, you walked the polished grounds of the castle freely.

After all, not even a King would so much as dare to harm witches beloved, lest he wanted to be burned alive by immortal flames and sent to the ninth level of hell.

A level solely made by strong users of the past, the ones who carved the road for witchery, having bent time itself to do so.

Truly terrifying how powerful they could be, but yet it was so mystifying.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent nights wide awake listening to him ramble about their history, about how they came to be and how they flourished.

They didn’t start off as human-like creatures, they started off as a ball of magical light in a land filled with nothing.

It was said that witches built the Earth from the ground up until greed overtook the lands and the humans overpopulated them.

And yet, they work harmoniously together.

Humans fearful of their power, and witches just naturally seeking to help people and continue their craft in harmony with all those who share the lands they grew from scratch.

 It truly was a peaceful existence they led, you couldn’t help but admire it.

Just like you always have.

Pulling the door shut, it locked behind you as you stepped over some paper with doodles, knowing better than to mess with his disorganized things without him in the room to see it.

Speaking of, you were asked here this evening, something about wanting to try out a new potion he had made.

He was always making new things, an inventor of sorts, but never one to have you as a test subject.

Of course, it piqued your curiosity and had you quickly cleaning up the mess you had made in the kitchen when the day was officially over just to get here as fast as you could.

The large window covered in vines holding a small couch beneath it glistened with the light of a crescent moon, casting the room lit with an array of colors in a cool glow.

Smoke from the candles blurred the light, only to collide with the wooden floor above them.

Humming, you grabbed an orb sitting on a side table,  holding it in the moonbeams so it would absorb its brightness. A candlestick of sorts made from magic. You weren’t going to risk going into complete darkness again.

He was obviously not in his work area, so he was probably upstairs.

And so, as quietly as you could, you crept up the old stairs, holding your breath and biting your lip whenever you came to a creaky step. You wanted to scare him, or at the very least surprise him

He was so easy to scare, and he always made the cutest of noises when you did it.

It was hard not to try everytime you were given the chance.

Once you made it to the top, fingers clasped tightly around the carved wooden railing, you looked around the darkened hallway, searching for the room he’s most likely to be in.

None of them had any lights on, which was eerily odd.

He never was much a fan of complete darkness.

It only raised questions as to if he wasn’t here yet, or if he was leaving you high and dry.

No, he would never do such a thing. Perhaps you’re early?

Chewing on your thumbnail, you stood dead at the top of the stairs, waiting for a sign that he was here.

“BOO!” 

“ARGGHH!” you shrieked, jumping away from the noise only to have your back slammed against the wall.

Horrified, you snapped your head to the direction of the noise, only to find a giddy Izuku covering his mouth with a leather-gloved hand, holding away his giggles.

Huffing, you placed a hand on your heart, ignoring the laughs that seeped out of him.

“Geeze, you scared me!” You chided, glaring up into his playful green eyes.

“Oh, like you weren’t trying to do the same to me just now.”

Laughing still, he bent down in front of you, offering you a hand to help you up.

Ever the gentleman.

Placing your palm into his own, he easily pulled you up to your feet, holding you against his muscular chest in a welcoming hug, to which you eagerly returned, arms wrapping around his slender waist.

Though you didn’t know the common body type of a witch, you had to admit, he was certainly buff. Not that you minded.

He could easily throw you over his broad shoulder, and you loved it.

Completely defenseless and vulnerable.

Oh, how sweet it was to trust fully in someone.

His foreign clothes were soaked in his familiar thick scent, the smell of the forest after it had just rained, dewdrops in the early morning sun, a hint of pine, and his own natural musk that always had your head spinning. He tends to travel the forests in the kingdom often, collecting natural herbs and stones he found interesting.

He had jars and jars of rocks and stones, sometimes cracking them open to reveal crystals tucked away inside. He’d always make little trinkets out of them, giving them to people he deemed as friends as a sign of gratitude. You only had one, made from the rarest crystal he had ever found, taaffeite. 

“So, why did you need me?” You mumbled against his chest, cheek rubbing against his familiar warmth.

“Firstly, I always need you.” The sap.

“Mhmm..” you hummed out, letting him pull away and grab your hand, taking the glowing orb and tossing it up and down as he led you down the corridor.

“Secondly,” he trailed off, leaving the orb to float in the air as he unlocked his bedroom door, pulling you inside.

“It’s a bit of a personal thing I can only trust you with testing.”

Smiling to yourself, you sat down on the edge of his large bed, running your fingers over the soft wool that made up his thick comforter.

Never one to use dead animal pelts.

“Is that so?” Your eyes naturally follow his being as he walks around the room, shuffling through different materials before snapping his fingers to light the stone fireplace off on the other side of the room, providing more light, as well as warmth, so he could see where he was going and not trip on the books scattered across the floor.

He didn’t like the windows in his bedroom open at night.

“Y-yes..” he stuttered, fumbling around with a few glass jars on his desk, muttering to himself as he examines the label on each one. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he turned back to you, proudly showing that he had found it before making his way back to the bed.

“What is that for?” Curious, your fingers brushed against the cool glass containing the shimmering magenta liquid as he sat beside you on the bed, mattress dipping enough from his weight that your sides knocked together.

“A few weeks ago, Shōto had asked a familiar question, if I possessed the ability to make every potion out there. Of course I- I can’t exactly, but I’ve enough skill to make some rather.. exotic potions. He questioned if I ever tried something different than just potions to heal the sick or offer beauty, and I haven’t. I don’t know why, but realizing that upset me. As if my skill set was limited to just some average joe healer,”

“Izuku..”

“So for a while now, I’ve been branching out. Trying different types of potions and having him as the tester.”

“Is that why he’s been acting different these days?”

“Precisely. I’m just lucky I haven’t gotten in trouble for turning him into a frog yet..” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head as you took the glass from him to ogle it.

“So what is this then?”

“Um..” Embarrassment was creeping up his neck and resting on his cheeks as he averted his shy eyes, “I have a hunch of what it might do. But.. secret?”

You pout at him, “Shouldn’t I know what this is?”

“You’ll know soon! I promise it won’t harm you, darling.” Leaning down, he pecks a kiss on your cheek, large arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into a side hug.

Taking the glass from your hands, he pulled the cork out, glittery, pink mist floating out like smoke from a blown-out candle.

“So, what do you say? Will you try it?” It was almost as if he was giving you no option other than yes with those big puppy eyes of his staring into your soul.

Licking your lips, an action his eyes followed, you gulped the nervousness away.

What had you to fear? This was Izuku after all. Had he ever done you harm? Absolutely not.

You had no reason not to trust the man who held your heart.

“Alright.”

Joy lit up his face, smiling so widely his eyes crinkled.

Huffing out a laugh, you took the bottle from him again, curiously sniffing its fragrance.

“Chocolate and.. maca?” The scent was certainly familiarly tasty, having worked with the foods before, being a baker. Judging how the liquid didn’t resemble them at all, it was off-putting. How had he managed to trap such a delicate smell inside?

“Mhm! That’s right! Apparently, when made, the potion takes on a heavenly smell. Most are usually bitter.”

“Ahh..” Trailing off you eyed it up one last time before finally bringing it to your lips, a shiver running down your spine at just how cold the glass still was, despite being in a warm room.

Tilting the glass up, the liquid glimmering in the light of the fire traveled down the shoot, pouring into your awaiting mouth, feeling as if you were swallowing a runny syrup.

It had the slightest hint of sugar and cinnamon to its flavor, but nothing else. How odd.

Gulping it all down just to get it over with, your eyes that unknowingly closed fluttered open as he pulled the glass away.

Feeling perfectly fine, you stared up at him with confusion, about to speak before his lips cut you off, tongue poking out to lick the renaming liquid from the corner of your mouth.

The clink of the bottle being set down echoed around the room before his gloved palm delicately cupped your cheek, tilting your head as to deepen the kiss.

His tongue eagerly explored the wet cavern of your mouth, as if he was drinking the little essence from his own creation left over.

Pulling away with a wet pop, his forehead rested against yours, mesmerizing green eyes staring softly into your own, waiting.

Waiting for what was what you didn’t know, perhaps for the potion to take effect.

You were eager to find out just what it was, but you had a semblance of a guess considering the position you found yourself in.

“How do you feel?” he whispered breathlessly against your parted lips.

Just as you were about to reply, your words got caught in your throat as your body began to heat up in a familiar way.

“I..” You pant, grip on his cotton shirt tightening as your gut suddenly twisted with a burning need for HIM.

Your (E/C) eyes glaze over with lust in front of his own, pupils dilating as your body began to shake, whimpers escaping your throat.

Thighs rubbing together to offer friction you didn’t know you desperately craved until now, you looked at him helplessly, so close to falling apart if it weren’t for his large hand on the small of your back holding you close to his steady figure.

“I-I feel hot.. Izuku..”

You whined, chewing at your lip as you wiggled beneath his excited stare.

“Good.”

Suddenly, his lips connected with yours once more, drawing a stuttered moan from your throat at the contact you unknowingly began to crave more and more as your lips connected again and again.

You clung to him like a koala, kissing him fervently like you would never be able to again, desperate to have his undivided attention.

Hands sliding to your hips, he pulled you onto his lap, legs hugging his own as hot breaths mingled together with the wet sound of kisses.

“Ah..!” You squeaked against him, your hips involuntarily grinding down onto his crotch, greedily searching for the pleasure your body desperately craved.

“M-mmm.. Izu.. I-” Your apology was cut off with a nip to your neck, “Don’t apologize,” he scolded. Grip still on your hips, he pulled you down rougher against his hardening dick, his hips thrusting up to meet your own, eliciting a sharp cry from your being as your head threw back at the sudden pressure where you craved it most.

He was quick to chase your lips, dragging you back into your heated makeout, swallowing every moan you let out as you both humped each other like horny dogs, the eagerness from him only adding to the pool of moisture leaking out of your body.

The button on his trousers was rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit, making your hips stutter every so often as you fought to maintain that hard surface.

Saliva began to drip down the side of your mouth from the intense kissing, but you hadn’t a care in the world.

No, your mind was too fogged to even think about it.

All you craved was him.

Him.

Him.

You yearned for him like he’d been gone a decade, and your body acted on it in a way you were typically shy about.

Biting your lip, he pulled away from the kiss, dragging a whine of protest from you before he hushes you by licking the outer shell of your ear, breath fanning across it only adding to the tingles of excitement shooting down your arched spine. “Hush,” he commanded, and as if you couldn’t disobey him, your words of protest died on your tongue, leaving only a parted mouth and heavy breaths.

Licking down the column of your neck, nose brushing against you, he searched for that familiar sweet spot on you, teeth grazing your flesh.

Still grinding on his hard cock covered by pants, a wet spot no doubt leaking past the underwear you wore beneath your hiked up skirt and onto him, you gasp once he found the place he was looking for.

Smirking, he nibble gently, holding you still as you began to wiggle once more.

Your head tilted to the side to give him more room as he sucked on your skin, teeth repeatedly nibbling at your sensitive flesh. Biting down harshly, you cried out with pain and pleasure, hips grinding down so hard onto him he groaned, the vibration making your heart jump in your throat.

“A-ahh… hnng.!” Moans poured salaciously past your thoroughly kissed lips, holding onto him for dear life as he controlled your being with every fiber of his own.

A button on your blouse popped open, and your foggy gaze traveled down just to see his fingers expertly undoing each one without looking, letting your bare breasts bounce out above your corset.

Not giving you a second to cover yourself out of embarrassment, his large hand cupped one of your tits, massaging it gently just to feel the soft flesh as your chin rested against his grounding shoulder, small moans now directly in his awaiting ear.

“You’re such a good girl, (Y/N).” He praised, eyes filled with nothing but love as he got to watch your unusually heated body search for the pleasure it craved.

You were usually so shy in bed, but with this potion pumping through your veins, he hoped it’d help give you the confidence boost you needed.

Though, that wasn’t the only thing it did.

He was filled with anticipation, if his throbbing member was anything to go by.

Thumb circling around your cute, perky nipple, he took the bud between his thumb and forefinger, pulling gently and rolling it between them, dragging high pitched whines from you.

You couldn’t help but pull away from him again, body constantly shifting from the delicious pleasure you were being given.

Fully pulling your blouse off, he left your chest completely bare, giving him the chance to dip his head down and latch onto the opposite nipple, lathering it in attention with his warm muscle, sucking softly and continuously rolling your other nipple with his hand.

It left you craving more, fingers threading through his messy green curls, pulling as to not lose yourself, only eliciting yet another deep groan that vibrated on your skin.

Feeling yourself slowly start to come undone, you desperately ground against him, pants becoming high pitched and moans being louder.

He could tell you were getting close, and from grinding alone no less, it made him feel so damn good to know he could get you to come purely from grinding.

But he didn’t want you to cum like this.

Certainly not.

And so, he fell back on his back dragging you with him as his lips found yours again.

Gripping at the hem of your skirt, he yanked it down, pulling it off your legs. Using a little handy magic, he effortlessly pulled your own shoes off, already working your underwear down your quivering thighs, eyes zeroed in on the drip of wetness attaching your core to them for a split second before they were across the other side of the room.

Corsets were always his worst nightmare.

He couldnt think too clearly to untie the knot in the back as your now bare crotch rubbed against his own, so without thinking, he ripped it off, the bare display of strength having you keening against him.

“Princess,” he whispered against your lips, dragging your hips upwards, “please, sit on my face.”

How vulgar of him to say, with a smile no less, but nonetheless it scent a throb of want to your stomach, and you found yourself, once again, unable to disobey him.

Your body burned red from embarrassment as you crawled up his own still fully clothed one, but you weren’t given the chance to dwell on it before he moved your hips directly over his face, tongue poking out to lap at your dripping folds.

“Gaah..!” You cried, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him as your hips once again helplessly sought the pleasure you craved, unafraid to press down against him.

Your juices tasted so sweet, he eagerly lapped at you like a dog deprived of water.

He had to hold you still against his face, drinking in the image of your breasts jiggling like jelly with every shuttered breath you took, head flung back and eyes shut tight as you focused purely on the way the flat of his tongue licked you up like a sugary treat.

He couldn’t help but occasionally press a kiss against your sobbing flesh, teasingly avoiding your clit begging for attention each time you moved against his mouth.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room, only sending his mind into a state of hunger, wanting to drag every noise out of you he could, along with the loud licking that caused your essence to drip down his chin.

His aching cock was straining against the flimsy button of his pants, desperate to be released and buried deep inside your soul-sucking pussy again.

Tongue dipping inside you and lips pressing against your sensitive, pink labia, he ate you out with earnest, squeezing your hips tightly with his fingers as he fought to control himself from shoving you to the blankets and fucking you raw without finishing his dessert first.

A choked sob tore from your throat with his lips finally encased your puffy clit, the tip of his tongue tracing around the bundle of nerves before flattening his tongue against it.

Your hips bucked involuntarily against his face, pressing him harder against you just so you could cry out his name like a sinful prayer.

His heart was full of love for you as he observed your reaction did everything blissful he did.

You were in heaven, walking on clouds as wet squelches from your own body surrounded your ears.

“Z-Zuku..!” You cried as he sucked on your clit like candy, enjoying the rough treatment. The tip of his tongue traced his name possessively over your button, marking you as his forevermore, silently vowing to never let another man do the same.

“I-I’m close..!” You cried, tears of pleasure falling down your flushed cheeks, dripping onto the thighs squeezing his head like warm earmuffs.

He hummed against you, dragging his tongue across the expanse of your womanhood before enclosing around your clit again, lathering it in the attention you needed to be pulled over the edge.

Your thighs clenched around his head, his hair tickling you, body stilling as you screamed out in pleasure, back arching and giving him a lovely view of your demise.

You came on his tongue, the stimulation he gave you throughout your orgasm sending you higher and higher in that clouded head of yours.

When you finally came down and slumped forward, catching your breath, he licked up the mess you made, pulling away from your lower lips and running a tongue over his own to greedily savor your delectable taste.

Placing you off to the side, giving you a second to calm down,, he hurriedly shuffled out of his clothing, throwing his cloak, gloves, and various other things on his person to the floor, kicking his boots off that landed with a heavy thump, leaving his underwear on as he crawled over on top of you.

Dazed, you stared deliriously up at him, a bashful smile on your lips, watching as he wipes your juices away with the back of his wrist before licking it clean. He was so sinful and messy.

The warm fire crackling in the corner hugged at his soft skin, making his eyes blown wide with lost twinkle like starlight. He looked so in love as he stared at you as if you were the only person in the world.

Breathing heavily, you reached out for him, and he was happy to lean in so you could wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the shorter curls at his nape as he kissed you again, your taste still on his tongue as your tongues intertwined. You weakly fought against his intrusion, teasing, only for him to grab a handful of your ass, making you gasp and effectively losing the battle.

He flooded your being with everything he had, his scent, his love, his passion, adoration, everything.

His knowledge on your own sexual human anatomy astounded you, but always left you moaning against him, much to his utter pleasure.

His thumb circled your twitching clit, bringing your attention back to his actions and the way you clenched helplessly around thin air, waiting for him.

You hungrily eyed the bulge in his underwear, licking your lips at the spot of wetness where his dripping head was.

You wanted to feel him inside you again, to clench around the very thing that drove you insane other than his skillful touch.

“P-please..” You begged, detaching yourself from him, pleading for mercy under his sharp gaze as he soaked up your wrecked self.

He loved hearing you beg.

“Please what?” he drawled out, running his lips down the side of your face and neck, pressing kisses against your collarbone. Moving his thumb previously giving you what you desire to your thighs, he held them in his grasp just to feel your smooth, warm skin against his rough, scarred palms.

You whined, shimmying your hips to draw his attention to them. He ignored your advances, peering up at your face with a glare and crooked smile that shot sparks down your body, “Tell me.” 

As if on cue, and unable to disobey his words that squeezed your heart, you sputtered a response, barely able to maintain eye contact, “P-please touch me..! M-more.. I, I need more, please! I want..” your breath was stolen from your lungs as he began to grind his clothed crotch against your wet core, “I want you! I w-want you to fuck me, please..! I- I can’t take it anymore.. Please, Izuku..!” More tears fell from your eyes, falling onto the mattress below you, “Please fuck me..!”

Happy with your response,  but still not quite ready to give in, he pulled away, circling your clenching hole with his middle finger, watching as your head flew back with tears as you meekly thrust upwards.

As much as he wanted to pull himself out right now and fuck you until his bed broke from the sheer force, he couldn’t risk hurting you.

Even if the potion was designed to make you ready for everything sexual, willing to comply with his every demand, you still were his princess, his angel, and he was going to treat you like one.

He didn't want you to wake with the soreness of not being properly prepared, even if he could heal you a minute after. That minute of you crying from the pain that HE selfishly caused would always be stabbed into his heart, and he certainly didn't want that, nor you to experience it.

“Sorry, love..” he apologized, finally plunging his thick finger inside you after thoroughly coating it with your slick, moaning at how tight you were for him. 

“Fuck..” he whispered under his breath, keeping your thighs splayed wide open as he sat back on his haunches to watch you react to him.

Your back was arched, begging for more as you gripped the sheets below you, cheek pressed against the mattress as low moans trickled out your sinful mouth like water.

Face hot, a boyish smile fell on his face as he added another finger, observing how you hotly throw your head back as he pressed against the spongy spot inside your walls.

“Aaahh..! T-there! R-right there..!”

“I know, darling, shh, shhh.” He cooed at you, curling his fingers against your G-spot with each thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. His fingers made wet clicks inside of you as they rubbed against your walls, dragging more and more moans out of you as you ground down on his large digits.

His eyes couldn’t leave the view of you sucking him back in every time he pulled his fingers out, it left him imagining more and more scenarios in his head.

God, how he wanted to destroy you.

Have you screaming his name so loudly you broke the sound barrier he had set up ages ago, letting all of the castle and its snobby guards know he was fucking the love of his life and doing it damn well.

He bet they would be jealous.

Those thoughts of it made his adrenaline spike, adding a third finger to the squelching party mixing your insides up, leaving you at their utter disposal.

Arousal poured from you like a steady stream, gushing down and leaving a wet puddle under your ass.

You were so wet for him it was hard to bear, but you felt so, so good.

Your mind was so muddled with lust, you couldn’t think straight, all that entered your mind was ‘more, more, more.’ 

You were being greedy, but you couldn’t help it.

Deciding you were prepped enough, his fingers pulled fully out of you, putting on a small display of licking them clean as you watched with wide, doe eyes, stuttering out about how dirty that was.

“More dirty than you using my face as a seat, my lady?” He teased, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

“T-thats..”

He chuckles at your flustered response.

Pulling his underwear down, his cock slaps against his toned stomach, fully erect and dripping with precum.

Throwing them off to the side, he noticed the way your eyes greedily looked at his body, confidence burning his veins as he sees the impatience in your eyes as you stare at his member.

He was tempted to say, ‘like what you see?’ but he himself was far too eager and impatient to wait any longer.

Grabbing himself, he ran his thickness between your lips, gathering your arousal on him before leading himself to your entrance.

“Ready?” He asked whilst kissing the skin below your ear.

You nodded, hips wiggling in anticipation.

“A-ahh! Fuck!” You cried out as he fully sheathed himself inside you with one thrust, bottoming out immediately.

He bit at your skin, concealing the deep moan that rumbled in his chest as you strangled his weeping dick at last.

You were so intoxicating, you sweet aroma wafting off you with every breath.

Grinding himself inside of you, he waited patiently for you to adjust, leaving hickeys all over your skin with each passing second.

Gulping down air, you thrust upwards, dragging him out of his blissed-out state just to moan heavenly deeply in your ear.

“Naughty girl..” he seethed, making you giggle, only to be shut up as he pulled out and slammed his hips back into your own, drawing out a garbled moan.

Skin slapped wetly against skin with each rough thrust he relentlessly delivered, drinking up your cries for more.

Leaning back to watch you with hungry, dark green eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. He pinned your arms to the bed above your head, a punishment for catching him off guard.

His cock was truly a godsend, thick and long, curved upwards just to slam repeatedly into your soft g-spot over and over.

You could only hold on for dear life as he fucked you good and hard just like you wanted, just like you craved.

“O-Ohh!!! Izu!! Izuku-! Ahh.! F-fuck..!” You moaned with each thrust inside your wet self, body being pushed back from the sheer intensity of which he fucked you with.

He knew your body so well by now, he knew each and every way to make you fall apart by his own doing.

He knew how to break you in the most sinful way possible, and he loved it.

Your face was lewdly contorted with pleasure, eyes looking back, eyebrows pinched together, (H/C) baby hairs plastered to your sweaty forehead, and mouth gaping wide open so he could hear every slur of words and every noise you emitted.

He wanted to hear everything you had to say, every reaction to the way he fucked you.

He could feel you growing tighter around his throbbing cock, juices coating his thighs with each heavy thrust inside of you.

He loved how much he could turn you on, even if right now it was all thanks to the potion that added pink hearts to your innocent (E/C) eyes.

The same potion that had you openly moaning unashamedly, whereas you previously would have held them in by biting your lip and hands.

He was so happy to hear how good he made you feel.

At long last.

“(Y/N)..” he panted heavily, peering deeply into your glossy eyes, movements becoming more and more sloppy as he lost himself to the pleasure, a burning pressure building up in his gut with each shallow and deep thrust.

Falling down on top of you, he held you close to him, letting your arms go so you could dig your nails into the flesh of his toned, freckled back flexing with each movement.

The bed banged loudly against the wall, he momentarily worried it would leave a dent- but he couldn’t think about that now. Not when you were crying out his name so sweetly.

“I’m here, I’m here..” he soothed as you clung to him.

Your hips began to move in circles, drugging him with intense ecstasy as he thrusts into you. You kept him wanting more and more. He was addicted to you. 

Pushing your legs back against the mattress, he reached so deep inside you, you swore you could feel his head kissing at your womb. 

You were so helpless to the waves of infinite pleasure he washed you over with that all you could do was take it.

“You’re doing so.. hah… so good, baby..” he praised breathlessly.

“Gnnn! Gaahhah..! Izuku!!”

“Let me hear it.. let me hear you, princess.” He smiled against your skin as you let out an onslaught of sultry moans, fueling his inner fire.

“I’m..! I- gwaahhh..! I’m so c-close..!”

“Me too, me too..” He fervently pressed kisses to your cheek, letting his other hand travel down to coat his thumb in your spare wetness, just to rub circles on your puffy clit, applying the right amount of pressure that always drove you insane.

Drool dribbled down the side of your mouth as your tongue flopped out, breasts bouncing with each and every thrust, constantly captivating him as he could feel their softness against his pecs.

Holding you flushed against him, he let magic crackle to life on his hand, green sparks lighting up the area around the two of you just barely. His hand began to vibrate, magic he learned was good for massaging muscles, but of course, it had.. other uses..

The vibration against your clit, added to the pounding of his cock expertly slamming against your G-spot, sent your head flying back, white vision going black as your pussy strangled his cock like a python.

“Haaahh.! Aah!” You cried his name out so loudly it burned your throat, leaving you to cum harshly on his dick, the strange sensation of liquid squirting from your body making your mind go numb as all you were left with was burning hot stars in your eyes.

The display alone was enough to drag him over the edge as well, slamming his cock into you once more before warm ropes of cum spurted into you, completely coating your walls and spewing out from the sheer amount as he let out a silent moan.

His thighs twitched and his stomach felt empty when he finally came down from his high, the same time as you.

Love filled his gaze as you both peered into each other’s eyes, enraptured by the souls sealed within.

Heavy breaths blew past your lips, desperate to calm down your racing heart.

“How was it..?” He questioned lightly, moving hair out of your face so he could get a better look.

“How was… what..?” Your mind was still clouded. You hadn’t any idea how he could still think straight.

Giggling, he rubbed his nose lovingly against your own. 

“The potion. Could you feel its effects..?”

Staring at him in bewilderment, it took a second to register his words. 

The potion.. what had it done again..?

Oh..

You slapped a hand over your mouth, pulling away from him. “Oh gosh..!” 

You were so embarrassed! 

Gah, to be so loud!! You wanted to hide in a hole..!

“Don't be shy, my love,” He pleaded sweetly, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead, “it’s just me.”

“That's the point!! I-it was embarrassing to- to be so.. lewd in f-front of you…”

“You say that, and yet I’m still deep inside you,”

“Izuku..!” You groaned, shoving his smiling face away with both hands, only for him to grab your hands and place gentle kisses on them.

“I.. I liked hearing you..” he flushed, bashfully looking away.

Though he could be quite the dominant man in bed, it was always endearing how he was still the shy witch you fell in love with at the end of the day.

“W-well I..” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “Well I’ll be louder for now o-on then..!” Your declaration surprised him, shock resting on his features before he broke out in another smile, flopping on top of your sweaty body just to hug you to his own equally as sweaty body.

“I love you, (Y/N)..” he sighed blissfully, burying his nose in your hair as he cuddled you, the crackling of the blazing fire just now reaching his ears.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

Though he could be a handful at times, with his insistent drive to be better and push himself beyond his current limits, as well as running headfirst into danger and getting littered with scars, you still loved him.

You always would.

He was your kind witch, and you, his darling beloved.

And nothing would ever get between a witch and the one he called his.

.

..

…

….

“So, are you going to pull out? I feel a little messy.”

“In a minute..”

“Izu!”

[indianamoonshine]

two to tango | javier x reader

*please note that i have no idea who created this gif. please let me know who did so i can give them credit.

summary: you’re pregnant and javier is the father. unfortunately, the two of you also haven’t spoken to one another in over a month. he’s starting to notice how easily startled you’ve become and how pissed you’ve been getting around the office. maybe it’s time to finally tell him.

contains: pregnancy. fluff. mentions of open relationships and an age-gap. (reader is well over eighteen.) your relationship is a bit wack but the two of you mean well.

author’s note: i’m barely getting by in quarantine, so here’s a really crappy one-shot. my first javier fic!

you felt him watching you.

the way you stumbled more frequently but was more apt to catch yourself less you actually did. the way your hands shook as you wrote down information called in through a hiss of static and how the noise pissed you off more than usual. it was the way you made sure not to walk too close to his desk, how your hands passed him folders marked with “confidential” as though he were infected with something.

javier was fuckin’ clueless though.

how he didn’t see earlier was beyond you. it’d been a month and a half since the last time you’d slept together. it’d been a month since the argument between the two of you ended things abruptly. javier and his informants and you and your jealously.

not to say you were wrong to be jealous. because you weren’t. you weren’t wrong to be angry when javier had to bail on you to collect some intel by whatever means necessary. and, granted, you had given him permission to do whatever it was to take out that escobar fuck. but certainly he had to have seen through that “cool girl” demeanor.

maybe it was because you were younger than him. javier didn’t play games - it wasn’t his niche. and usually it wasn’t yours; that is, of course, until the game reared its ugly face. you called him out on his bullshit only to cast the line; to get a rise out of him just to see how much he really cared. and when he didn’t take the bait (or didn’t understand what the fuck you were trying to get at) you grew restless at his lack of passion. this is the game that fucks up many relationships and it certainly fucked up yours.

but not until javier fucked you. a lot. every night really because the two of you lived down the hall from one another. then when your jealously and his nonchalance finally came to a head, the game stood on its platform and bit into its shiny gold medal. one comment led to another and soon enough you found yourself slamming the door in his face, unable to breath, and giving him the cold shoulder for thirty whole days.

but that thirty whole days was up a week ago.

it’s almost quitting time. well, for you anyway. you had a set schedule. you didn’t go out on the field or get your fingers dirty like steve or javier did. no. you sat in a square protected by bulletproof glass, phone to your chin, and breaking pencils by the dozens while you doodled mindlessly. the clock on the far wall ticks lazily, your kneecaps bobbing anxiously with the beat. you want so desperately to go home, to get out of this sauna of an embassy and drink...shit. well, to drink water, you suppose.

you let out a slight groan.

there’s a knock on your cubicle which rattles the glass a little. it’s always startled you, but considering the circumstances the sound the glass makes is enough to make you jump in your seat just slightly.

you place a hand on your chest, eyes tearing away from the clock, and find javier with his hands on his hips. he watches you with frown on his face, though the mustache hides most of it.

ah, fuck. it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. you were supposed to approach him. he wasn’t supposed to feel obligated to ask why you were more fidgety or anxious than usual; why you were now staring him down with a grimace on your face, eyes dropped with fatigue, and heart skipping a little.

well, shit. maybe javier peña was more observant of your behavior than you thought.

he says your name softly and raps his finger on the window again so you’d open it. you find yourself doing just that but not without sighing in defeat. the whiff of his cologne immediately intrudes your space, making your head dizzy with...all sorts of feelings, really. javier didn’t wear that much cologne. must be another lovely effect of pregnancy, you suppose.

he leans forward to say, “we need to talk.”

he’s being tactical - clever - in the way he speaks in such a hushed tone, eyes scanning the room to watch people leave their desks. it’s five now. lights are being flickered off, goodbyes being said. javier raises a hand at a few cadets who wish him a good night.

and then finally the room is empty. steve’s not even here - he’s on the field today - boots on the ground and whatnot. but javier was here.

and he was staring right at you.

his voice rumbles loudly from his mouth. “what’s going on with you?”

god dammit. you clench around nothing, palms sweating, and wishing he’d just fucking leave. especially with the way he smells. especially with the way his voice is heady with testosterone and authority.

“nothing,” you lie. it’s a bad show of dishonesty. you’ve never been that great at fibbing anyway, but this has to be one of the least convincing displays you’ve ever attempted.

javier isn’t persuaded by the way you choke on your own words. and with all the sweat gathering against your chest, who would be?

“i’m worried about you,” he murmurs. “you’ve been acting...strange.”

he seems genuinely concerned which both pisses you off and excites you at the same time. on one hand, he’d been watching you. making sure you were okay. healthy. safe. on the other hand, he had the audacity to fret himself over your demeanor when he’d been ignoring you.

in his defense, you’d been the one to kick him out.

you swallow a lump in your throat. acid, mostly, and then pride. “okay,” you finally squeak. “let’s talk.”

javier watches you cautiously, taking stock of your color and expressive eyes which probably looked a bit dilated at the moment. finally he says, “fine. over drinks?”

drinks. shit.

--

“your place or mine?” he’d asked after.

you told him ‘mine’ in a pathetic manner as he drove you. this area of medellín didn’t have a lot to offer as far as views go, but there was enough to keep your mind occupied as you passed. food carts that wafted delicious smells. children playing games. lovers quarreling. and then finally you arrive at the apartment complex where everything felt a little more beige and lonely - where culture was almost sucked from the grasp of the american embassy.

but javier was here now, and as much as you wanted to hit yourself for thinking so, the night felt a bit brighter when he opened the door for you. you thank him as the two of you enter the building and then wait in silence as you fumble with your keys.

javier takes a deep breath and makes himself at home. he’s been here hundreds of times. he even has his own sock drawer; one you hadn’t cleaned out yet (you told yourself you were too busy but you know...). he shucks off his boots and places them in the corner because he knows that’s where you like them, and when he sheds his jacket he lays it on the back of the couch just like you do.

you beeline for the fridge, desperate to busy your hands. there’s not much in here drink-wise save for some water bottles and some of his leftover beer. there is a bottle of red wine, chilled and tempting, but you ignore it with a frown and fetch javier’s choice of poison.

he sits on the couch, elbows at his knees, and staring blankly at the floor beneath him. when you enter the room he blinks up at you and accepts your offering with a small “thank you”.

“water, huh?” he notices as you uncap the bottle, brow furrowing a little. he knew how much you loved wine after a long day, and he definitely knew there was some in that fridge.

you nod a little too quickly for your liking. “yeah,” you say, taking a swig. “is that alright with you?”

javier grins at your snark. maybe it was bubbling up old feelings in him. you try to pretend like that doesn’t make you...well, feel something other than frustration. you wanted to be mad at him. you did.

there’s a silence between the two of you. it’s heavy. stifling. not awkward, but tense. tense enough that javier starts first with a great sigh.

“i miss you,” he says abruptly. he’s fingering with the lip of his bottle - can barely look you in the eyes when he says it...as though he’s ashamed of it or something.

“i know i shouldn’t because...” he sets the beer on your coffee table and folds his hands together. “because i was the one that fucked it up.”

you want to correct him but he’s not entirely wrong. while you played a hand in this as well, it takes two to tango and it certainly did take two to tango in this situation.

“i...” you start, but fall short. you weren’t keen on admitting you were wrong. you hated admitting you were wrong. always have. “i’m to blame too. i lied to you.”

javier perks a brow, lips pursing for a moment before asking, “lied?”

you shrug and nod at once, a little skeptical of your show of honesty. you hope it didn’t look too forced or shallow. pathetic. typical of you to overthink things...to make it about you.

“i wasn’t okay with you sleeping with other women,” you admit. and it feels so fucking good to say it aloud to the one person who matters.

javier sets his jaw and nods at his feet. “i shouldn’t have done it.”

that part was true.

“still, i should’ve told you straight out. i just felt like you didn’t...” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose, a wave of nausea washing over you rather suddenly. “i just felt like you didn’t care enough about me to stop. and i was being a child for pushing you to admit it. or trying to push you to admit it. i don’t know...”

you shake your head, stunned by your own stupidity. when saying it out loud to an actual person and not your shampoo bottles it doesn’t make any sense. how manipulative can someone be?

“i should’ve just been honest with you and i’m sorry i wasn’t...” is all you can say. that was the simplicity of it.

javier shifts beside you on the couch. you don’t look up at him - you’re way too ashamed. he sets a hand on your thigh and you can’t help but shudder vibrantly at his touch.

“i knew you weren’t okay with the...” he considers his next words carefully. “informants. and, to be honest, i wanted you to break first.”

you glance up at him through your lashes. “why?”

he chuckles softly all of a sudden. “you know i’m not an open book. but you...” he pauses and takes your hand that’s limp in your lap. “you’re more stubborn than i am.”

he presses a delicate kiss to it, mustache tickling the tender flesh. “please come back to me.”

he...wants you back.

tears swell in your eyes before you can even acknowledge their existence. they’d come on so suddenly - without warning.

damn these hormones.

you use your free hand to wipe a lone tear away, noting how a wrinkle of concern puckers his brow when you do.

“i have to tell you something first.”

he scoots closer, eyes narrowed, but mouth soft in dismay. he massages the space between your forefinger and thumb which, strangely enough, alleviates some of the leftover nausea in your gut.

might as well spit it out.

“i’m pregnant, javi.”

you’ve imagined this scenario hundreds - and i mean hundreds- of times since seeing those pink lines on that piece of plastic. you imagine he’d shut down, sort of like a fax machine when it overheats, and walk out the door. maybe he’d throw his hands above his head, pace around the room, and spout off ways of how it couldn’t be possible despite the fact that you rarely used protection.

how it happened, you couldn’t be sure. the technicalities of it, at least. you’d been on birth control but maybe you’d missed a dose. maybe you were just really fuckin’ fertile and javier was really fuckin’ fecund. but either way it happened and there was nothing to do but say it did - indeed - happen.

and just as you think he’s had a stroke...that you should either call for an ambulance or at the very least steve, javier cracks...a grin.

not a joke. he doesn’t crack a joke. he cracks a smile. it starts off subtle until it doesn’t; until his teeth and all are showing. he laughs, but in good humor too. not snickering - but laughing.

you can’t help but jolt back from his touch with dubious reserve. “are you...laughing?”

javier’s smile falls into a pleasant smirk and then he’s holding your face between two calloused palms. palms that are familiar and warm, that have touched every inch and frailty of your body. the ones that helped make life within you.

and before he even says it, you know it’s okay. that it’s all gonna be okay.

“is that why you’ve been so goddamned jumpy lately?” he beams, thumb rubbing a small and gentle circle against your cheek.

you stare at him incredulously before you begin to giggle well. it was only a matter of time, especially by the look of sheer delight in his eyes. you were stunned by his bliss of it all.

you nod in his embrace. “yeah,” you admit meekly. but you’re smiling now too.

javier presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent with a great inhale. “i knew there was something going on.” he brings his nose to the crook of your neck and takes in another deep breath. “you smell different.”

you roll your eyes in jest. “bullshit.”

“i’m serious,” he says, perfect nose gliding along your skin. “i’m positive that’s a thing.”

your hands grip his cheeks, stubble itching your skin when you do. he looks luminous- maybe even more than you.

“so...” you caress the top of his eyebrow, thumb brushing over it ever so slightly. he always loved it when you did that. “are we okay with this?”

javier leans into you, eyes trained on your lips. “of course we’re okay with it,” he confirms softly. “we’re more than okay with it.”

[summonerscenarios]

Ello! I can't get this out of my head but I like to imagine the protag loving to draw and doodle, and when they run out paper they draw using marker on their arms or legs and wanted to know how the rest of the summoners would react to seeing the protag show up to class one day with their arms covered up with random doodles they drew on themselves the night before out of boredom dksbsksns

Shiro knows about your doodling habits - during meetings he’s watched you doodle patterns on your fingers and hands as you listen to the latest news and updates, and just as often has watched you after said meetings having to viciously scrub it off over the safehouse sink because of the stains using markers and pens have left behind on the tables. It’s never been too much of an issue though, since you only resort to doodling on yourself when you’ve got no paper on hand, so Shiro’s been mindful of having a notebook or two stowed away at the safehouse for you to doodle on while you’re there. With that being said, that only accounts for the safehouse and not whenever you’re not there, so keeping up your paper supply in your room has always been your responsibility. So when you run out, on top of being bored in the late hours of the night, you end up drawing patterns on your fingers, then your palms, then the back of your hands, then your forearms...With class being on the next morning you’d had to rush out of your room before you’d had the chance to clean up your arms, so when the Summoners see you there’s a mixed bag or responses. Shiro just about topples out of his chair when he turns around as sees you enter the classroom, grinning as you offer the Summoners a wave and move to toss your bag onto your seat. Your arms are covered in drawings, all the way up from your hands to your elbows and disappearing under your shirt - he’s never seen you get so far up your arms with your doodlings before, and many of them are so neatly packed together you could almost say they looked like tattoo stencils. Most of the marks stick to one color, but there’s a couple that differ and those are the ones with more detail - clearly, you’d gotten carried away on them, but not in a bad way. Even though they’re only temporary, Shiro has a feeling that if one of the stricter teachers catches you, you’re going to end up getting an earful about the drawings and tells you that it might be a good idea to roll your sleeves down just in case one of them’s teaching this class. Sure enough, Mr.Triton comes in not a moment later and you drop your arms from your desk, tugging your sleeves back down to your wrists as you cast Shiro a sheepish grin at the close call.

Kengo has absolutely let you draw on him whenever you’ve run out of paper at the guild house - his arms are thick and broad giving you more than enough space to doodle just about anything you want. It’s gotten the two of you scolded more than once because he wouldn’t tell you to stop and you could quite easily doodle up to his elbows if left unsupervised, but of course this is mostly outside of school hours since you’ve got plenty of paper to doodle on when you’re in school or at your dorm. So that’s why Kengo does a double take when you come strolling into class covered right up to your elbows (and probably above if he’d have to guess) in just about every color marker that you possess. Kengo doesn’t even need to ask you why your arms are covered in scribbles, instead when you sit down Kengo shuffles his desk as close to yours as he can, asking if you’d brought any of those pens with you. In response you smirk, fish around in your pockets, and retrieve some metallic markers as you gesture for him to budge closer and uncap the gold stationary. It’s a miracle the two of you don’t get caught, considering you’re exchanging harsh whispers, with you biting back snickers as you chide him to keep still, and him trying to flex his arm because you’ve kept it pinned in one place for so long. You have to admit, the metallic markers look damn good on him, a mix of bronze, gold and silver making for some cool looking patterns against his skin by the time that you’re satisfied enough with your work to stop. You’re just thankful that the two of you don’t get called out on your arms, but you don’t stick around long enough to get stopped anyways, the two of you booking it the second that the bell rings and down the hall as Kengo brags about the new penwork you’ve given him.

Ryota loves to doodle with you! Whenever you’re drawing at guild meetings you’re quick to offer him one of your pens or markers and shuffle next to him so that the two of you can draw things together. He thinks you’re way more talented at it than he is, but he likes seeing how happy you get whenever you’re doodling, and he enjoys hearing you praising the drawings he makes by the time that the two of you have filled in just about every spot of the page. Sometimes he’ll see you drawing on your hands, but you never draw any higher than your wrist and he honestly thinks that your drawings look so pretty on your skin, especially the ones where you use bright colored ink! He just thinks it's sad you have to wash away all that hard work by the time you’re done, so you end up taking a picture of them whenever you make a new pattern on your hands. However, for what it’s worth he’s never seen you doodle on your hands in class, maybe because you could probably end up getting told off if you got caught doing it in lesson. That soon changes when you end up having to rush into class after staying up late doodling, not having the chance to clean up your arms by the time you have to leave to get in on time. You hadn’t even thought about rolling down your sleeves until you enter the room, and you can see Ryota’s expression light up at the sight of your arms when you drop down into the seat next to him, sleeves up to your elbows revealing a fraction of the doodles that now decorate your skin. He leans over to look at them, wondering how long it took you to finish drawing on your arms - everything looks so detailed! You must have been up for ages last night to get them all done! You nudge one of your arms against Ryota’s comparing your doodled arm to Ryota’s significantly less doodled one and hum in thought; then, you reach into your pocket and dig around for one of your pastel markers, pulling it out and showing it to him as you ask if he wants some. By the time the class is over Ryota’s got some pretty yet subtle new doodles thanks to you, fanning out across his palm, back and fingers ending just shy of his wrist; he’s happy as he admires them, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling at how good the patterns look on him as you fish out your phone, reaching out for his marker covered hand with your own and interlocking your hands as you snap a few pics to commemorate your newest doodles.

Toji nearly chokes when he sees your arms, not realizing that they’re drawings until you sit down and rest your arms on your desk, doodle covered fingers tapping on your desk as you wait for the class to start. Similar to Shiro, he’d say that it would probably be a good idea to cover up your drawings lest you want to get scolded by the teacher, only to watch you shrug and grin in response. Toji does allow his eyes to wander over some of your drawings, and for what it’s worth they are rather visually appealing; some of the markings are flowers, detailed lines to make up specific patterns, and others are scribbled words hidden between blocks of art close to the inside of your elbow. It’s clear you let your creativity run away with you when you were drawing, though he’s sure drawing them on paper would avoid the future hassle of trying to scrub them all off when the time came. You catch him staring and tug your sleeves up a little further, saying that if he thinks those are cool he should see the ones on your legs - you had a way bigger canvas to work on the little details on the images you drew. Toji gives you an incredulous look, searching for your bluff, but he realizes it’s not when you reach down you tug up your pant legs. He doesn’t get the chance to see the doodles in question when the teacher walks into the classroom, and at the sight of Mr. Triton you just about yank your sleeves down, flashing a convincing innocent smile as you greet the teacher like nothing’s out of place, catching Toji shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

Moritaka has seen you draw on both your own skin as well as others whenever you’re bored and have no paper to use; however, he’s never seen you doodle anywhere past the wrist, sticking to just the palm of your hand or your fingers since you don’t always have time to sit down and focus when you’re not at school or at the dorm rooms. Which is precisely why he doesn’t expect you to come into class with pen markings up your arms, past your elbows, and even disappearing into your shit. When you take a seat next to him, Moritaka turns to greet you briefly, only just catching sight of your arms on your desk when he turns back to face the front. He looks again, then again, and by the third time his eyes are comically wide as he tears his gaze away to look at your face, brows raised as he looks into your face for some kind of explanation. Your only explanation is that you were almost late and didn’t have the time to scrub it all off before you had to get into lesson, though you take advantage of the opportunity to show him some of your favorite doodles. Leaning over to his desk you show him some of the things that you were able to draw the night before, still as vibrant as when you’d first drawn them; on one section there’s even a collection of flowers close to the center of your hand, with one of them being a peony that you can’t help but quip that it looks pretty close to Moritaka’s mark. You remark that you guys can match now and Moritaka finds himself chuckling a little at how proudly you show them off; though you unfortunately don’t have the time to show him much more than that, as being close to the front when the teacher walks in you drop your hands into your lap to hide the majority of marks, whispering to the therian that you can show him all the rest once class is over.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟓𝟖𝟑

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐞

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏:

The loud beeping of the alarm clock went off in the room as your groans followed, your hands slamming the object to the ground before slowly sitting up from your bed. You rubbed your eyes as you tried to adjust to your surroundings, your mind and body wanting nothing but to curl underneath those soft sheets of yours and smother your face in the feathery pillows. You raised your hand to cover your mouth as you yawned and stretched, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed as you slowly walked towards the singular bathroom in the hallway.

You filled up the reusable cup with water before applying the toothpaste onto your brush. With your half-lidded eyes, you carefully started to brush your whitened teeth while staring at the mirror. As you brushed your teeth, you made some mental notes to pick up your journal for school. You had remembered you left it on your desk and wanted to fill it out for the morning. You spat out the minty paste and rinsed your mouth before grabbing a towel to wipe at the remaining droplets of water.

You went back to your room to which your uniform was laid out on the chair with your bag already next to the door. Your room was quite plain, it had mostly white walls with white-colored books neatly stacked against each other on the shelf. You turned to your bed to decide whether or not you wanted to fold the sheets. It was. . . Extremely messy. There were sheets piled on top of each other, the pillows shoved into one corner of the bed, and various loose pens and papers surrounding your “nest”. While the rest of the room was clean, your bed was one of the more unorganized spaces. You only shrugged as you thought to clean it up later when you get home.

Which you probably wouldn’t, but you put effort into thinking about it.

You slowly pulled up the required skirt placed on the chair and began to change into the required uniform. You thought that the high school uniform looked slightly childish for girls but it was something that was unchangeable. You pulled your grey colored sweater over your shirt, the end of the white fabric still peeking out from your outer layer.

Before you left the room to start on your breakfast, you picked up the required journal with its ribbon dangling from the edge. It wasn’t a flashy journal, it had a white hardcover with a golden strip of fabric that separated the new from old pages. You had signed your name at the corner of the book, the characters of your name glimmering underneath the light of your room. As you ate your toasted bread you quickly documented your morning routine onto the papers. Some may have thought of this as a meaningless hobby, but to you, it felt like something more that you could cling onto to give significance to your boring life.

“I hate you! I’ve always hated you!” The sharp impact came across your face in a swift movement. “You’re always in front of me, what have I done wrong?!” She screamed in frustration as her tears flowed down like a waterfall, her movements becoming more frantic by the second as she gripped the edge of your shirt and threw you towards the wooden shrine, the smell of incense burning being inhaled as you struggled to catch your breath.

You slammed your journal shut before silently cleaned up the table and grabbed onto your bag. You had no one to wish goodbye to, nor did you have anyone to tell you welcome home. You tilted your head downwards as you walked towards your school.

Although you faintly remember your middle school reputation of being popular with the boys, you tend to stay within your own closed-off area of the school next to the tree to study. You once thought to yourself that school could have been easier if you had actual friends to make your life exciting. Maybe you wouldn’t have to spend every day eating alone. You pressed your lips together as you frowned. Of course, there wouldn’t be anyone left to be friends with, a lot of them already knew each other from middle school and many of them wanted to stay far away from you, possibly to admire you from afar. With each step you took towards the school, it almost felt as if the world had slowed down for your thoughts.

Your life was lonely.

You slipped onto your indoor shoes and placed your regular ones into the shoe cabinet, your mind still occupied by your own gloomy thoughts as you continued forward to your classroom.

You thought that perhaps there could be someone who would share the same experiences as you, someone as lonely and closed-off as you were, but that would simply be wishful thinking. It was a very selfish thought. You wished not to burden others, but to take on the weight yourself. This train of thought only reminded you of the nightly dreams you have that you write down every morning.

It was about the Great Zodiac Race or Zodiac Legend, you didn’t quite understand why you had consistent dreams of this specific myth, but it was something you thought to be profoundly interesting. Legend says: God told all the animals he was throwing a banquet the next day and to not be late. The rat had decidedly told the cat that the banquet would be the other day as to fool the feline. He would wake up the next morning to find that his dreams of the feast were simply a lie, the mischievous rat had tricked him.

You pondered about the significance of this story. You originally felt pity for the cat, being so easily fooled by the rat, but you had come to the realization that you don’t feel a connection to either of these animals. You wondered if the rat felt as if winning the race was worth it.

After all, when you’re at the top of the world, there is nowhere else to go. You hooked your school bag onto the desk and sat down, pulling out your journal to write a report on your own thoughts. You questioned why an animal such as a bird, perhaps even an eagle, was unable to win the race. They were fast and swift, their talons sharpened and most of all: they were free.

With wings, you could soar through the skies God had walked on. You could flourish in Heaven while the rest scoured the grounds. If you were an eagle. . . Perhaps God could finally look you in the eye and grant you anything you wanted in life. Perhaps. . . The rat would no longer have to feel lonely if someone as great as the eagle could replace his spot. Even if the eagle were to feel alone, it would still settle the dispute between the two animals. You smiled grimly as you doodled a small eagle onto the side of your notes.

You would still feel lonely in end.

You turned your head to the side and noticed the abundance of students flocking into the classroom. You watched as the brown-haired student who you sat next to smiled brightly at her classmates. She had a very friendly appearance and was pretty, but she was a total airhead. You remembered the first time you were assigned seats, she kept dropping her eraser and utensils next to you and would apologize nonstop. It was endearing, but it was very annoying when she had to apologize for simply being near you. You heard that she was extremely close to the Sohma family, you weren’t very interested in her personal life, but it seemed as if the school couldn’t shut up about the news, especially the micro-banged club leader.

You grimace every time she squawks with her annoyingly high pitched voice and micro-bangs. Wherever you went it always seemed as if she was there, constantly cawing over the littlest things the Sohmas’, more specifically Yuki Sohma, been doing. You sighed before noticing the mentioned Prince sitting on the other side of the classroom. You always thought that he seemed to be strangely distant from the class, always trying to smile despite how fake each and every one of them was. You wondered why no one else had caught on to the fact none of his laughs were even remotely genuine. The more you stared at him, you realize that there must have been something different about him. As you faced your head to face the board, you failed to notice the grey-eyed stare you received.

Yuki felt himself be cornered in the library by another unknown female confessing her love to him. He seemed to have lost track of the number of girls who had tried to open their hearts to him, only to be met with closed doors with his own. She poured out her feelings towards him, her tears almost coming out of her eyes as she tried to leap into his arms, only for him to quickly grab her face and halted her movements. She looked up to his grey orbs and felt herself become mesmerized by the sight, burning the memory into her mind as to never forget this glorious moment.

Yuki never understood these girls no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t understand what they saw within him that would grant him the honor of being someone’s lover. With his girlish face, anyone would assume he was simply a female. He never thought of himself as cool, but as pathetic. He felt as if he went beyond the standard and that itself was enough to believe he isn’t a good match for anyone. He wasn’t cool and tough like his cousin or outgoing like his older brother, he wasn’t extremely wise either. He is, for a lack of words, a lonely person with no sense of self-love. He wanted to bite down on his lip in frustration as he remembers the interactions his cousin had with the other students, the anger he felt when he couldn’t relate to any of the other students enough to make friends. It made him want to curl up into a corner and melt.

“You’re nice, Yuki-kun, but you’re closed off to other people, aren’t you? Everyone says that! Yuki-kun is special! A normal girl isn’t good enough for him!” The young girl ran away and accidentally shoved you as you walked around the corner, causing you to drop your book onto the ground. You winced in pain as you slammed into the bookshelf from the impact.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance and frustration from having to pick up your fallen book. When your hand was about to reach the hardcover, another pale one had already grasped the spine of the book and offered it to you. You lifted your head as you made eye-contact with the grey-haired male, his smile plastered over his face as usual.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, your eyes widening for a few seconds before returning to their normal dull appearance. He noticed the slight glimmer in your irises before you pulled away from him.

“I’m fine.” You took the book from his hand and bowed slightly. You quickly went towards the previous bookshelf that Yuki had found himself trapped in, your mind still occupied by a foreign thought. You closed your eyes with your back turned to him. You didn’t know exactly how to address the situation. Yuki stood behind you awkwardly, he too was speechless in a way.

He gripped onto the sleeve of his left arm, his bangs overshadowing the look in his eyes away from you. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, he had never talked to you outside of classroom duties and even you were closed off. He bit his lip as he struggled to pull himself together. You only frowned before sliding one of the books out of the shelves and turning over to face him.

“I heard. . .” You saw him flinch at the sound of your voice, “about what the girl said.” Your (e/c) eyes met with his as you continued your staring contest.

He looked back at you in shock, his grey orbs widening to the size of saucers as he comprehended your words. In a way, he felt a bit flustered to be caught in this situation, maybe if he was cool like Kyo, he could be more assertive and talk his way through this. His lips wavered and turned into a small frown but you noticed that he was still trying to give you a smile. Yuki decidedly broke off the contest as he stared out the window, lost in his own thoughts and concerns. Your lips curled slightly downwards to a frown as you thought you might have offended him. You should diverge the topic then.

“It reminded me of something,” you absentmindedly peeled open the book to examine the contents of it, “you sort of remind me of the Rat from the Zodiacs.”

You weren’t the best at formulating conversations or articulating thoughts, so this was the best you could even do. You wondered if this was truly the right thing to do. You didn’t notice the look that the boy had given you, you would have to assume that he stared at you in disgust or annoyance when in reality he was merely speechless.

“Sohma-san, do you believe in the idea that the rat may be lonely?” You asked, “because I believe the rat is lonely.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, “what makes you say that? Are you implying that I’m lonely?” He retorted.

You shook your head, “I was just curious.” He pressed his lips together at your response. “I always thought that. . . If the rat never came in first place, do you think he would still be lonely? He wouldn’t have to shoulder the burden of being by God’s side, he could be like the others.”

Yuki leaned against the window, his head against the glass wall as he stared at your figure, “if the rat hadn’t come in first place, who would?”

He seemed to be catching on quickly. You smiled at his question, “the bird.”

“A bird?”

“An eagle.”

Yuki pondered over the meaning of your words. He stared at your expression as you flipped through the many pages of the book.

In a way, an eagle could have won the race, but it was an unrealistic thought. The rat had won, and there was no way to change that fact. He tightened his fists until his knuckles became white like the snow. The rat had won, and there’s no way to change fate. He shut his eyes tightly as he grit his teeth, remembering very clearly his relationship with his cousin.

There was no way to change fate.

“Why do you think the eagle should have won?” He asked, albeit reluctantly.

“They’re the closest you can get to God,” you slid the next page over, “an eagle could fly through the sky and be eye to eye with God. . . They could be equals.”

“But. . .” You closed the book and slowly walked towards the exit, the time spent in the library being already too long, “the eagle. . .” Yuki’s eyes flowed the movement of your figure as you glided your hands across the door frame.

“Could save the rat from his burdens.” You turned to him and gave him a sorrowful smile.

[tybaku]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30691259

Midoriya Izuku finds the incarnation of beauty and divinity sitting at a window of a hole-in-the-wall café just a few blocks away from home.

Or: An artist in search of inspiration unexpectedly finds a new muse.

When Izuku lays eyes on him, it’s like salvation.

It’s a feeling of warmth, like fire licking at the grooves of his teeth and spreading throughout the apples of his cheeks. It’s a pleasant thing, the following lurch in the very pit of his chest, like all the air in his lungs had turned into honey the color of molten gold. It’s electric in the way he can feel it’s lingering buzz in his fingertips just as he’s left in a reverie.

Izuku hasn’t felt this way in weeks.

A thin, reserved smile finds its way onto his bitten lips as he twirls his mechanical pencil between his fingers. If he were an artist of a different medium—say, a photographer—he would capture this very moment for safe keeping, have it frozen in all its sharp and bright clarity and contrast. (But he is not, so he will have to make due with his pencil and paper.)

It’s a gray kind of day today. Storm clouds were rumbling gently in the sky, crooning and purring in the promise of rainfall. It set a somber mood, and a gloomy undertone to the colors of the café Izuku frequented, despite its yellow lights and setup of deep, rich browns, reds, and oranges.

Though it did pair perfectly with the man who sat by the window.

Izuku’s eyes fell, and his pencil danced on the paper of his sketchbook. Curves and corners formed a light, faint base, precise enough to embody a sitting figure. Izuku looks up again, eyes gently observing the piece in front of him.

And damn if that man at the window didn’t resemble something straight out of a Rembrandt. He was soft, pale colors, from fair skin to blond hair, and awfully kind on the eyes, muted and light. He held a dark sort of overtone over his features and the way he breathed, grays and blues amongst warmth.

He’s wearing a scarf in a bright shade of cream low on his neck, and the material gives off the impression of cotton, which is soft and comforting in the current cold of late autumn. His clothes are dark, old, and large, falling off his slim figure. His eyes are downcast, and though Izuku can’t quite tell from this distance, they are deep and dim in hue, and enraptured by the laptop in front of him, a halo of cool light illuminating his high cheeks and sharp jaw.

Simply put, the man at the window was agonizingly gorgeous, and Izuku was determined to capture his beauty on sketch paper.

He’s quietly scribbling his third concept drawing (he quietly berated himself for not bringing any paints today, but then considered the fact he wasn’t even planning to draw at the café anyway, and he could always just start a piece when he got home as long as he had a decent thumbnail) when the man stops, rolls his shoulders back, and rises from his seat.

Surprised, Izuku nearly drops his pencil, not having expected any movement and having forgotten the man at the window wasn’t actually modeling for him, nor made of marble. (He could be though, Izuku thinks. If he let me, I could immortalize him with just my hands.)

The man steps up to the counter and orders a coffee.

Izuku watches him wait as subtly as he can, glasses slipping to the tip of his nose with how often his head moves up and down, and up and down again in order to somewhat perfect the piece in his book.

Faintly, he realizes that he should maybe be a little more inconspicuous about his sightseeing, but he’s too thrilled about finally finding a view that was actually worth looking at. Plus, the man hasn’t yet noticed Izuku’s stare on his stern profile, even if the artist was just as tactful about it as a toddler.

Izuku rolls his own shoulders, a mimic of what the man had done earlier, and continues. When the man returns to his seat, Izuku is on his third sheet of paper.

They’re faint, quick doodles now, thumbnails overlapping thumbnails, because Izuku is rapidly losing his patience, and doesn’t want to spend more than a minute on a sketch. He’s too excited now, and the ideas keep coming in, insistent on making their presence known even as the page becomes more and more crowded, filled to the brim with messy artwork.

The man finally meets his eye, and scowls.

Embarrassed, Izuku ducks his head quickly, pretending to be occupied with his sketchbook. It’s a half-truth really, because he has been busy with it for the past twenty something minutes. Only now there’s a more than healthy flush to his cheeks that can’t be blamed on the chilly weather. He looks up tentatively.

The man has gone back to glaring at his laptop screen and sipping on what Izuku assumes to be his dark brew (with exactly two and a half packets of sugar substitute—Izuku knows this because he had seen him pour and stir them into his mug at the sidebar before he took his seat again).

Izuku lets out a quiet sigh of relief as the heat in his face fades out like a dying candle, and then resumes his sketching calmly. He never really could draw when he knew someone was watching, it made him feel too nervous, and much too exposed. One is meant to create art privately, and wholeheartedly, not under a persistent microscope.

Then again, Izuku probably shouldn’t be out in public if he wanted privacy and be away from prying eyes. Even if they are a deep, rich shade of brown that sat on his skin like hot, burning coal. (Even if they are red and piercing like they must be in another life, in another painting of beauty.)

And it wasn’t as if Izuku came to the little coffeehouse with the intention to create, he had simply wanted to mill about, and see if maybe he could find some inspiration outside his lonely studio apartment, and even his actual art studio. He never thought he would actually strike gold, and have to sit down to milk it for all it was worth.

Unfortunately, there comes a point where all the gold runs out, and Izuku is left with dirty hands and an ache in his chest.

The man packs up his belongings and leaves. The bell above the door sings cheerily. Izuku watches as the man breathes a puff of air like smoke before he shields his mouth from the cold with his scarf. Izuku's eyes fall when the man rounds a corner and disappears from view.

The coffee in the mug Izuku bought out of courtesy has gone cold, since he had been far too busy trying to map out the shapes and shadows of the man at the window. He looks down into it, detested, not being able to help feeling a little upset about the man’s departure.

If I had asked, Izuku thinks rather absently, would he have stayed?

He shakes his head at himself, hair tickling his cheeks, feeling a little ridiculous. That wasn’t something you could just ask of someone you didn’t even know the name of. It wasn’t appropriate by any means, to ask a stranger something so intimate. To stay. And just so you could admire them and the lines of their human body, and preserve them on sketch paper for you to have and hold selfishly.

So really, there wasn’t anything Izuku could’ve done to prevent the inevitable. The loss of a light and warmth so bright it felt holy—the inside of a dying sun, the core of a supernova.

What he does do, however, is take advantage of all that he had basked in and hurry on home with intent of creating a new art piece of paints, making sure to leave a fat tip on the underside of his untouched coffee before leaving the shop with a little spring to his step and a pink blush on his face.

He makes it home in a flurry, hair wildly windswept and cold air in his panting mouth, having broken into a sprint, and then a run, by the time he was only a block away from his apartment, nerves buzzing under his skin. He had taken two steps at a time up the stairs and into his studio, as if he were being chased by a madman. (He was the only madman around really, one who was much too eager to capture what he felt back at the café on a canvas with his oils at home, rather than make the trip to his professional workspace.)

Izuku makes a quick beeline to his art desk (it’s standing where maybe a television stand would be if he had one, right in front of his comfy loveseat, and it’s covered in all sorts of paints because Izuku tends to use it as a glorified paint palette) and sets his sketchbook down on the cleanest spot he could find, immediately crouching down in order to rummage through his art supply bins for his spare oil paints.

He mutters as he does this, about colors and brushes and the man at the window of the café, but it’s nothing short of white noise to his ears, a harmless habit. It helped him focus in fact, his own whispered musings to an empty room, and it helped him relax enough to calm the heart trying to break his rib cage and beat a gaping wound through his chest.

He finally finds the oils, and then the brushes, that he needs to replicate the image in his head that burns in the backs of his eyes. He sets them all down on his art desk, only where it’s dry, and moves about the apartment in search of the final, most important ingredient: a canvas.

He looks down, around, and behind every piece of furniture, grumbling under his breath. After about five minutes, it finally sinks in, and he makes a terrible discovery: there were no clean canvases he could use.

Usually, he would have one or two lying around, for easy commission pieces, and even when the occasional creative mood would randomly strike, but as of late, he hasn’t actually been painting much of anything, whether it be for personal purposes or professional pursuits. And his past self had figured the canvases in his art studio would suffice because of this, so he hadn’t bought any to keep at home.

His past self was a bumbling idiot.

Determined, and not yet ready to detach himself from this bout of sudden inspiration, Izuku rolls up his sleeves, gathers his supplies, and gets to work, canvas or no canvas. He paints and paints until his knuckles ache and his jaw goes sore from clenching in concentration.

He finishes his piece with tired arms and oils not only on his face, but on his plastic frames. He finishes liberated, with relief strung throughout him.

Admittedly, it’s not his best piece, for his living room wall isn’t suited for his oils, but Izuku can’t help but think it’s his most beautiful. It’s the first thumbnail he made of the man at the window of the café, one where he’s looking out the window, blown out right on the wall, his sharp yet soft profile glowing gently with warm, nude colors.

The man at the window takes Izuku’s breath away all over again.

Warm in the face, Izuku lets his eyes wander away, and fall to the wooden floor. The sun is bright and high in the sky now, a telltale sign of noon, beaming hot yellows into the apartment, and beating down onto the back of his clothes. The lighting is wonderful, and perfect for a picture, but a seed of greed is already sprouting in the mouth of Izuku’s stomach.

This sight, this piece, wasn’t one he was willingly to share with anyone just yet, if ever. It feels too deeply personal somehow, and much too intimate to showcase on any of his social medias, much less his professional art blog. Plus, it’s not even a complete piece, or one he can profit off of, since it lies dormant on his wall. There wasn’t a reason to post this anywhere, and there wasn’t a reason why Izuku should even want to. This piece was for his eyes only.

Embarrassed at the mere thought, Izuku brings his stained hands to his face, no doubt smearing more oil paint onto his blushy cheeks. Now what kind of reasoning was that? He didn’t want to share? The man at the window was only his to admire? How selfish! And how embarrassing! Izuku thinks in a flushing stupor, berating himself in belated humiliation. He hadn’t meant to think any of that, honest!

The artist smacks his face once, and then twice, to pull himself back together. Nevermind all that, there was nothing wrong with wanting to keep some of his work to himself in the first place. Just like his personal, and very much private sketchbook where he allowed himself to experiment and make mistakes, this living room piece served as an act of unexpected creativity and originality, a subjective study of an intriguing character.

At the very least, Izuku had fully convinced himself of this in less than a minute, not allowing himself to think about the matter any further lest he wanted to mutter a whole dissertation about it straight through the wall and into his neighbor’s apartment. (The walls here weren’t as thick as they were supposed to be, unfortunately.) (Vaguely, Izuku recalls his apartment lease and its rules, specifically the too-lengthy paragraph under “alterations” and how he was not allowed to “paint, wallpaper, alter, or redecorate without written consent of the landlord.”)

Izuku brings his thumb to his mouth and bites down on the painted nail to keep himself quiet, letting his eyes settle back up to his artwork. It truly was an astonishing piece, if he did say so himself. It was very new, and very different from any of his other work, and it reflected an entirely distinct side of Izuku’s artistic capabilities. It felt real, and warm, and overwhelmingly human; very dissimilar from his usual painting style.

It was nude, and dark, and utterly stunning in all the unexpectedly right ways. A handsome painting crafted by hands that never knew they could portray such divinity.

A fresh flame ignites in Izuku all over again, and his hands go back to feel the blood rising in his face once more. It was becoming increasingly more and more difficult for him to mellow out of this stage of embarrassing elation, since each time he tries to take a look to admire his piece he gets worked all up, and ends up awkward and out of place in his own home. He just—He just needs something more.

Huffing, Izuku removes his glasses and wipes them down with the hem of his shirt. His hands go a little blurry under his gaze, which was a little watery and soft at the edges, far-sightedness at its best. As he removes any paint off his lenses, he allows his mind to wander just a bit, back to his painting, and back to the prospect of sharing.

He nearly drops his glasses moments after, right on the line of a most groundbreaking revelation—a victory caused by something straight out of a storybook or myth, one where stars, planets, suns, minds, and hearts aligned.

Izuku fits his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and quickly fishes his phone out of his pocket, inputting his passcode with no hesitation.

He had some calls to make.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 1)

A/n: I'm so sorry but I DESPERATELY needed to get this off my chest before I exploded because I have absolutely NO self control.

I made a playlist

Word Count: 5000+

MASTERLIST

Come in sets of two...

Y/n was an oddball.

At least that's what his parents said- a lot.

"You're such an oddball."

It seemed that they meant it endearingly, but the words stuck with Y/n much more than they probably should have. And maybe that was less because of his parents or even his brother and more because of the media and the other kids that treated him very differently than they usually treated other people.

It probably didn't help that he was a Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute golden boy. He was responsible, driven, intelligent. He was a staple for Boys Going Somewhere. A face to an idea that everyone absolutely adored. It was known very well that Bruce was going to be the successor to Wayne Enterprises- even though Y/n was two years older. Bruce was good to the core, with a wide smile but a certain professionalism that most adults didn't ever master.He was level headed and figured things out very easily. His parents were incredibly proud of him and held him very dearly, and it showed.

Y/n wasn't anything like him. He preferred staying up late and watching the stars or the sun set and then rise again, compared to understanding anything about business. He was somewhat of an artist. He had notebooks full of drawings and his room was covered with thumbtacked paintings he'd put on his wall with pride, even though most of them were what he was known for: people, animals, or objects that he'd fixated on long enough to paint them... except that they were often multiple things in one painting, and they were all mashed together in a rather alarming sight. He walked around with paint in his hair and on his clothes, his eyes bright and shining and his energy completely uncontained. He had no sense of self control or when to be quiet or calm. Most often he wasn't even found at home, as he went to school and then hung out with friends he'd made on the streets.

It was instantly incredibly obvious the drastic difference between the two boys, and people had been bidding on which one would succeed and which one would flop the very first second Bruce had been born. Every bet was on Bruce making it.

Despite everything, Y/n and Bruce got along very well. Y/n was rather emotional and got upset very quickly when he was ignored, which worked quite nicely with Bruce's curiosity. Y/n could go on for hours about the same thing and Bruce would listen. Bruce could ask questions about one painting for just as long and Y/n would eagerly answer each one, going into as much detail as possible. Y/n pulled Bruce out of his comfort zone and gave him a little fun outside of the expectations that were constantly pressing down on him. Likewise, Bruce took up the mantle and allowed Y/n the complete freedom to be himself and be appreciated for it.

Even the boys' parents had a pretty steady relationship with Y/n. They found him to be a little much, but with Bruce leaving them reassured that their company would be in a pair of capable hands, they were perfectly fine with letting Y/n go absolutely wild. As log as he was safe and everything he did was legal. They might live in Gotham, but the Waynes were good people and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

Overall, they were a very happy family.

Everything changed the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot dead on a way home from a movie they'd taken Bruce to.

It had been a night out like any other. Y/n stayed home as usual- it was the only time he could turn his music all the way up and completely lose himself in whatever he wanted to. The others didn't mind. It let Y/n blow off steam and made him much calmer for a while; in addition, they had a night out together and got to bond with Bruce. Sometimes they'd take just Y/n, and sometimes Y/n and Bruce would go out together without their parents, but most of the time it was Thomas and Martha and Bruce, and each Wayne was okay with that.

Y/n was staring at a half painted canvas, eyes wide and fingers trailing the path of his lips. He was loving the loudness and the thumping of the beat under his feet. Like it was in his blood. He smiled, raising the paintbrush.

The door busted open. "Y/N!"

Y/n spun around, startled. In the sharp movement, he knocked over a tiny bowl full of paint. Alfred reached over, turning the music off. "Your parents were shot and killed. Bruce is home early." Red paint dripped down the easel and over Y/n's shoes as the words tried to sink in but failed.It was like looking at something see through or invisible. Like feeling the breeze and wishing to catch it, but never able to close your fingers around empty air. Y/n just couldn't comprehend what Alfred was saying. Sensing his shock, Alfred moved closer. His voice was softer when he repeated, "Y/n. Bruce needs you. He won't admit it, but I can't help him lone.He won;t even admit he needs help. He might open up to you."

"No," Y/n choked out. Martha Wayne was far too kind and gentle. She was warmth and safety incarnate. Something so good and bright wasn't allowed to fade. Like yellow paint,or the sun. She always came back in the morning Always. And Thomas Wayne was... unbreakable. Unshakable. Impossible to even faze, let alone kill. He was unbeatable. Nothing could kill him. He'd live forever. Or, at the very least, go out at his own time when he was completely sure he was ready to. "No."

"Yes," Alfred insisted, shaking Y/n's shoulders violently. Y/n flinched. "Please-"

Without another word, Y/n pushed away from Alfred and sped to Bruce's room. He didn't even knock. Bruce was sitting on his bed, his eyes haunted and his lips resting in a soft frown. His hands were in his lap as he perched on the edge of the bed like he was planning to run any second, but he also seemed cemented in place as if he couldn't go anywhere even if he wanted to. He was scary still, and as his eyes slowly moved from the floor to meet Y/n's gaze, the older Wayne shivered at the darkness in his gaze. "Bruce?"

Bruce nodded stiffly in forced greeting. "Y/n."

Y/n bit his lip. Bruce's gaze fell to Y/n's feet and widened, his hands tightening on his knees. Y/n looked down to see the red paint still on his shoe, beginning to dry, and immediately felt sick. "So-" he cut off, his throat burning like he'd swallowed acid."So they're really-"

"Yeah," Bruce interrupted.

"You were there."

"Yeah."

Silence fell like a piano from a fifth story building. Even when the silence left, the feeling didn't. Both boys were suddenly being crushed under the weight of a ginormous object neither of them could see let alone explain or find the strength to remove. It stayed through the funeral, and onward. It manifested differently for each boy.

Bruce began to dig into his parents' murder, sifting through file after file, night after night. He got little sleep and ate even less often. At least he wasn't hurting himself anymore. That he had done a lot right before Alfred, Y/n, and Jim Gordon had all teamed up to knock him out of it.

Y/n was thrown into the world of business. He was torn away from everything he cared about. His freedom and dreams were stolen ad he was forced to clean up and get into a suit and start taking care of the family company- at least until Bruce was ready. In a few months he lost not only the things he enjoyed and his parents, but also his friends and the easy going way of life. He was beaten down and forced to be calm and collected. He was taught how to not deal with emotions like real men do and handle business that needed to get taken care of. He wasn't a person anymore. He was a tool.

It was unbearable for Bruce. He was losing all of his family in one go and as he tried to fight to make sense of it or keep anything of his old life, people kept trying to knock him down a peg and remind him that he was a child. Even though Y/n, barely 14, was apparently old enough to have the world on his shoulders when he was completely and totally not able to handle it in any way. It was supposed to be Bruce's job.

Finally he managed to prove his capabilities, but not in time to save Y/n. He had been rung out by the press and pushed to the brink and then over by the people at Wayne Enterprises. When he got his free time back, he didn't spend it watching the stars or the sun rise and fall. He didn't spend it painting dogs and lamps. He didn't spend it doodling and ranting to Bruce about all the things he found wonderful about the world. He spent each and every second he had locked in his room, painting.

The colors of each work began to get darker, the themes more twisted. They got better as he fixated on one thing only... unfortunately, that thing was death.

Y/n was spiraling. He didn't take care of himself and sometimes didn't come out of his room for days. Bruce tried to get through to him, but it seemed that something really bad had happened while everyone had expected him to be in charge. The thing was, there were no hints about it and of course no one at the company would fess up about anything. Y/n wouldn't talk about it. Anytime anyone even mentioned Wayne Enterprises, he would pull away and become unresponsive.

Then the Maniax began wreaking havoc.

Y/n's focus suddenly changed. He wasn't fascinated per say by the horrible things going wrong, but more the people that were committing the heinous acts. One day Bruce finally got him to talk about it, and all Y/n had to say was, "I mean, who does that? Who goes around just killing people like it doesn't mean anything? For no reason? Look at the redhead- he shoots one of his own guys for no reason- Look, right there. What kind of mental state would someone have to be in to be so flippant about taking a life?"

The obsession with the Maniax was soon followed by an obsession of killers in general. He was found constantly reading history books about some of the world's worst killers. Then, about Gotham's worst killers specifically.

That was why Bruce went to him when he began to get involved with that same redhead that had set Y/n down this path in the very beginning. "What do you think drives him? I mean, why do what he does?" Bruce asked his brother one day. It had been quite a while since they'd sat down and talked like this. When Bruce would ask questions about something Y/n fixated on and Y/n answered with pure eagerness. This had been the first time the information had been useful or had a realistic application, and it was upsetting.

"Probably some mental disorders. Perhaps some childhood trauma. He's probably immensely desensitized..." He paused. "Jerome Velaska is actually quite odd. He's probably just psychotic, with some serious abandonment issues and a sort of god complex. He wants to be seen and known and craves endless adoration and attention. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and doesn't have the patience or tolerance for anything else. That's why he acts out- it's like he has the mind of a child. He didn't get his way and now he's going to pitch a fit and chuck his toys. His toys being people and the fit being murder."

Bruce swallowed. "That's demented."

"Hm?" Y/n hummed. He blinked then forced himself to nod. He had zoned out and not blinked to bring himself back to the present. "Yeah. He's totally messed up."

Bruce tried not to ask Y/n about Jerome again after that. There had been a strange light in his eyes. A dangerous interest that made Bruce... nervous.

Everything came to a climatic bang when Alfred took the two brothers out to a charity banquet held in honor of a children's hospital. He'd only managed to get Y/n out because he'd been more energetic recently. More in a good mood. A little more like himself. In favor of seeing Y/n be so much like he used to, neither Alfred nor Bruce questioned it.

Boy did they wish they had though.

The night was seeming to pan out rather dull until the Magician came out. Y/n loved Magicians. He always had. He found their skill to pull off even the most obvious tricks was rather impressive. So when the Magician on stage asked for a volunteer and Bruce was chosen, Y/n was a little disheartened.

Bruce, however, seemed that he would rather do anything else. He had been nagging to leave anyway. Y/n stepped forward. "I can go up for you if you want," he offered.

The woman smiled and on stage, the Magician announced, "Ah yes! Just as well, just as well. Please, join us." The woman held out her hand for Y/n and he took it immediately.

Gotham hadn't seen Y/n in a very long time. People tittered and clapped and Y/n felt nervous. He hadn't been in front of a crowd since-

No, he wouldn't think about that. Tonight it was just some good fun and he'd be okay with that. Wasn't he allowed to have fun every once in a while?

The Magician greeted Y/n then opened a box, motioning for him to get in. He did, with a bounce in his step and excitement in his eyes. The box lid closed over top Y/n and the slats were put in place. It was the classic "sawed in half" trick. Y/n was immediately put off though. It would ruin the magic if an audience member did the trick. The assistant always did this trick, because it required a lot of trick of the eye to work. This way, he'd just get cut in-

Y/n's eyes went wide. The Magician above him smiled deviously.

"Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" Suddenly Y/n's body went cold. He knew that voice. Had heard it again and again and again on tv. He had seen that exact smile accompanying it. He was torn between the horror of the very real possibility of death at any second, and awe at finally meeting the man he'd been unable to get out of his head for the last significant amount of time. Since the whole bus full of high schoolers had almost been set on fire and that soon-to-be familiar face was all over the screen during the news broadcast about it. That face that had been and would be on every news broadcast for quite sometime. The Magician hummed, raising his eyebrows, and Y/n swallowed.

"Y/n," he said. There was no point now. He was trapped and at this man's mercy. What could he do? Cry for help? The most anyone would do is laugh it off, even if he could manage to get the lump out of his throat and get any coherent message across. Plus, something far more demanding kept him silent.

An extremely dangerous sense of curiosity.

If he was going to die tonight anyway, he might as well take his last moments to see what Jerome Valeska was like up close.

"Y/n," the not-magician repeated, musing over the name. "Well, Y/n, this won't hurt a bit." He clanged the two large saws together and Y/n felt breathless. What was he doing?! This was absolute madness! "Is there a doctor in the house?" The crowd laughed. The crowd LAUGHED. Of course they laughed. They always laughed. No one cared about Y/n Wayne.

Suddenly Alfred's voice sounded out, rather panicked. Y/n looked over, surprised. Of all people, Y/n didn't think it would have been Alfred who would have intervened. Alfred had been much too wrapped up in taking care of Bruce. Such as everyone was. Despite that, it was him to stumbled out, "Just- wait- excuse--" He held up a hand, everything going quiet and still as he tripped forward. "Just wait, wait, wait one second."

Jerome didn't wait.

The saw came down.

To his own shock, Y/n was fine.

The assistant rolled away his lower half and then returned it just in time for Jerome to lean close and whisper, "Give em a wave." Y/n looked directly into his eyes and his smile wavered. They were a pretty color. Brown, littered with slight blues and green that came alive under the stage lighting.

"I know who you are." The words wouldn't have been heard by anyone else other than Jerome- even if it wasn't for the clapping. Jerome froze, but Y/n didn't wait. He stood, waved to the audience to show he was alright, and then allowed the assistant to take him back to his place next to Bruce and Alfred.

When Jerome spoke gain, his words seemed to be a little different. Y/n placed the emotion when he turned back around again and saw Jerome's eyes glued intently to Y/n. He wasn't blinking. "Some say Y/n here has a split personality." The audience laughed at the pun and then his voice lightened again as he moved onto his next trick. As he called up the mayor an the set up began, the assistant's mask fell off.

Y/n gasped. He knew that face too. Unmistakable. Barbara Keene. Of course. How did Y/n not see that far sooner?

"I should warn you," Jerome teased lightly. "No one is getting out of here tonight alive." The audience laughed and Y/n thought he would feel terror at the words. What was stopping him now? He could whisper to Bruce or Alfred. To that nice lady from before-

It was then that Y/n realized Lee Thompkins was gone.

Jerome flung a knife straight into the Mayor's gut and Bruce stepped forward, gasping in time with the crowd. Y/n was torn. Why was he torn?! This was simple! Stop this! Right? Surely he could do something.

And yet... he found he didn't want to. God what the hell was wrong with him?

The Mayor fell and people began panicking. The gun shot started and Y/n moved without thinking, slipping behind a curtain and out of sight. He began to move through the curtains until he was far enough fromAlfred not to be stopped, then he was ducking to make sure he didn't get shot- and he waited.

He saw Jerome and Barbara tie up Lee and then make a call. He spoke loudly- it wasn't hard to make out at least one side of the conversation. His demands didn't make sense. They didn't line up at all with his character. Why...?

His maniacal laughter suddenly cut off as he turned to face his newly terrified audience. The moment was interrupted, though, by a new voice. "Enough!" Y/n stepped out from hiding to get a better view, only to see a man he didn't know. That was a new experience on this night where Y/n seemed to be able to put a name to ever face in this room that mattered. "It's time for you to pack up your little sideshow and leave," the man continued. Jerome was still grinning. That didn't make sense either. Why didn't he seemed bummed that his fun was getting interrupted, or a little tentative around the new player he hadn't planned his game around? How had this guy even gotten in, with all the guards outside? It felt off. Y/n could sense it immediately. Even the man spoke like he was... reading lines.

And Jerome responded in the exact same way. Like he was in a show. Like he was acting.

The movements of the two men and the way they formed words seemed so out of place. Even the shot of the gun Barbara used... none of it seemed natural.

Without thinking, Y/n stepped forward. The small noise his steps made immediately caught Jerome's attention. His eyes light up, his smile relaxing to a much more natural place. This was Jerome. The change was impossible to miss for Y/n, who had been carefully studying him so long.

"You," Jerome called, pointing directly at Y/n for the first time tonight. This felt even more thrilling than when Bruce had been picked. Now there was no charade or manipulation. It was just Jerome and Y/n. "Come here." He held up a gun, obviously ready to threaten someone's life to get Y/n to obey, but he was already moving before the words could leave Jerome's mouth. "What a nice boy." Y/n should have been at least pretending to be phased, but he was far too caught up in analyzing Jerome that he didn't think about how his step was confident and unfaltering, taking him to Jerome without any hesitation. He didn't think about the expression on his face, but how it made Jerome specifically respond. By simply having an emotion other than fear, Y/n had caught Jerome's attention and was reveling in it. Jerome could see that too, and it seemed to entertain him even more.

"You just gonna stare at me all day?" Y/n whispered softly, trying not to let his lips twitch into a smirk. Was he... flirting? It felt like he was suddenly outside of his body, watching this train wreck happen, unsure of who was in control or why he was doing anything he was.

Jerome seemed to be absolutely loving it. "Stand here with me." His voice was soft as silk, near purring. Y/n moved to where he motioned and stayed silent. The problem with his new placement: everyone could see his reactions now, not just Jerome. It was time to start acting at the very least.

Turns out he didn't much need to.

Jerome was easily terrifying as he was charismatic.

Every time Y/n thought he had caught on to Jerome schtick, he did something that threw Y/n off completely again. It was all fun and games, playing at murder but then pulling out some joke shot that didn't really make any sense. Did he actually want to keep all of us hostage? Wasn't it enough to have a few? Bruce, me and Alfred because Bruce was Gotham's golden boy, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me or Alfred. Lee Thompkins because she was his bargaining chip. The four of us would be plenty enough of a bargaining chip, maybe a handful more just in case. Why spare everyone, if he really did like killing so much?

There was something to Jerome that really intrigued Y/n. He wondered what the maniac was really thinking. What really drove him to act this way. To take control of a whole room full of Gotham's richest of the most well meaning... only to ask for ridiculous, nonsensical demands and not kill a single one of us.

Again Y/n got that sense, like something else major was actually happening here.

Y/n was zoning out. Missing things. He couldn't focus on the act going. The show that had more layers than what was originally apparent. He missed the whole throw down with Barbara and Lee as well, but caught the gist: Barbara was apparently in love with JimGordon and fancied that they'd end up together. Lee was apparently getting in the way of that. Blah, blah, blah. Girl drama and psychopaths and romance and delusion. Barbara almost killed Lee. Jerome stopped her. So on and so forth.

Then, Jerome attention was on Y/n again all of a sudden, even though he'd been carefully ignoring the boy he'd called up on stage until that point. He grinned at Y/n, the knife he'd taken fromBarbara manifesting in Jerome's hand. The redhead used it more like a finger than a weapon. He ran the dull side of the back of the blade under Y/n's chin, the flipped it so the blade was pressed gently to Y/n's skin. "My favorite volunteer," he said slowly, stepping far too close for what should have been comfortable. "You know, I've seen you on TV."

"And I, you." He hadn't meant to respond, but it had slipped out before he could stop it.

Jerome's head tilted as he popped his chin in pride. "Well, of course. I was meant to be on the big screen. I made my own way. It was my choice to end up where everyone could see me." He took a deep breath in. "You, however... what a scandal." Suddenly Y/n couldn't breath. Jerome roared in giddy, insane laughter. "There he is!" He turned to the audience, motioning to the slight shake of Y/n's body and the sickly pale tint to his skin. "There's that fear! That fear or hate or disgust or whatever it is you all feel for me... except for you." He looked back at Y/n. "We're so similar, Y/n," he sighed. "I'm an orphan too, you know. I don't fear death either."

"You killed your parents," Y/n managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Jerome tilted his head back and forth. "Details, details." The knife was at Y/n's throat again. "You're no fun anymore, you know. Everyone stops being fun at some point. I will give you one thing: you lasted longer than most." The knife pressed further into Y/n's throat and he sucked in a sharp breath as it broke skin, a single drop of blood making a vibrant path down his pale skin.

Gun shots. Suddenly Jerome spun, pressing Y/n's back to his chest, moving the blade so Y/n's was a hostage instead of the focused on target. There was a bit of chaos in the crowd, and Y/n's eyes widened to see Alfred and Jim Gordon of all people mowing through Jerome's lackies. Jim turned his barrel toward Y/n and Jerome. "Let him go!" He shouted. Jerome's giggle rang right next to Y/n's ear. Whatever weird spell from before that had Y/n controlled and calm and still broke and he flinched back away from the blade. Unfortunately, that only brought him closer to Jerome. After a second Jim defeatedly announced, "I don't have a clean shot. Jerome shifted, obviously eager in his moment of victory.

"Stay calm, Y/n," Alfred eased. Bruce was shuffling, knowing it wouldn't help to rush in but having to use every bit of his self control to stop himself from doing just that. He couldn't lose Y/n too. His brother was part of the quickly dwindling family he still had left.

Jerome's breath sounded in Y/n's ear as he gritted his teeth, switching from plying a game to planning an escape. Of course he wanted to get out of here alive. "It seems like we've got ourselves in a bit of a pickle. "What do you say Sweetheart?" Jerome mumbled in his ear. He was twitching, rocking a little from foot to foot. "Why don't we boost our ratings, hm?" The knife moved from one side of Y/n's throat to the other, drawing the smallest line of blood. Y/n gasped, his body shaking in suddenly very real fear. He wondered if this is how his parents had felt, or if they'd died too fast to really be afraid of dying at all. "Smile." Jerome began his wild, broken chittering of a laugh again.

This was familiar. Jerome had been waiting all night to kill someone, and for whatever reason he hadn't. Unfortunately, that meant he was definitely not going to hesitate to now. Y/n closed his eyes, and echoing, "NO!" Coming from his younger brother before he was sure he was about to be enveloped by darkness.

"I said, enough." Jerome let go of Y/n in surprise and both boys turned, unsure where to move from here. Not knowing how to switch gears. There stood the man from earlier. Theo Galavant. Theo grabbed Jerome by the color and drove a knife into the side of his neck. Y/n made a weird, half-choking, half-squeaking sound as the blade made impact into flesh, the audience gasping behind him.

Y/n couldn't move. He fell backwards, tripping over his own feet and barely catching himself as he made his way off the stage and to the ground. Theo must have thought he was further, but he heard it. He heard what the man said next. "I know, I know, I know," he cooed as Jerome choked, dying. Y/n blinked, trying to clear his head. So many thoughts were swimming through it and his chest had begun to tighten and twist. He couldn't breathe. He could still hear though. "This isn't what we rehearsed. I'm so sorry Jerome. You have real talent! But no, you see, the plot thickens. Enter: the hero."

Something horrible settled into Y/n's stomach as Jerome spoke again, his voice weak and raspy. "You... said... I was... gonna be..." He died before the sentence could finish, and Y/n was running. Ramming into Bruce, the boys holding each other tightly as Alfred enveloped them both with his arms.

"It's over," Alfred reassured. "You're safe now, Y/n, it's okay."

The words sounded sincere and full of relief, but Y/n couldn't shake that things were far from over. In fact, he was sure they'd only just begun.

-

[antisocial-af]

Day 1: Clizzy

Title: Lightwood Gifts

25 Days of Pairings: Day 1 Clizzy 

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1076

No Major Archive Warnings

SFW, Holiday Fluff.

Summary: 

Isabelle gives Clary a gift.

Read on Ao3

Story:

“Yes, trust me,” Isabelle sighed again as she kept speaking into the phone. “Hermano, just give him the damn thing. We spent all of last week looking for a perfect gift. Don’t chicken out now.”

She kept walking down the New York Institute hallway, sometimes stopping to admire the snow falling outside the windows.

“Alec, he will love it,” she kept assuring. “You could give him one of the standard Shadowhunter uniforms, and he would treat it like you had it specifically tailored just for him and one of a kind.”

She listened as her brother kept on explaining his worries. She had been trying to talk Alec down for almost twenty minutes now.

She kept allowing the Inquisitor to ramble on till she reached her bedroom door.

“I have to go, hermano,” Isabelle cut him off after the latest reason why the bracelet wasn’t enough. Isabelle didn’t know how a charmed bracelet that had runes carved in for protection wasn’t enough, but apparently, his brother had higher standards on gifts for his loved ones.

“No, I’m okay,” she assured him when he jumped to conclusions. Always the big brother, she thought. “Just got to my room, and I have my own holiday plans.”

Isabelle listened to his warm wishes of luck and happiness before they both finally said bye.

As she entered the shared bedroom, Isabelle heard the soft hums coming from the bathroom. Clary must’ve just finished painting and was cleaning up.  

Isabelle entered the art covered room to where Clary’s paints and brushes still laid scattered.

Izzy would often come back from a long day at the Institute to her girlfriend doodling, sketching, or painting something.

“You’re back early.”

Clary entered the room from the attached bathroom and smiled as she adjusted her towel, looking at Isabelle.

“I couldn’t wait till I got back to you.”

“Mhm,” Clary accepted and made her way to Isabelle. “Welcome back, Izzy.”

Izzy pulled the redhead closer and smiled as she stared down into those stunning green eyes.

“You’re staring again,” Clary teased and leaned up to kiss Izzy’s cheek.

“Can you blame me?” Isabelle smiled. “Out of all the art in here, those two orbs hold my attention every time you enter the room.”

“Oh my god,” Clary broke out in a laugh. “Have you been listening to Magnus and Alec flirt again?”

“That bad?”

“No,” Clary tried to keep her laughter contained and leaned up for another kiss, this time claiming Izzy’s lips.

“I wasn’t lying. I did miss you,” Isabelle defended herself as she continued the kiss. She moved her hand up to tuck damp red locks behind freckled ears.

“How was your day, baby?”

“Long, but I finished up a few paintings,” Clary answered, leaning into her girlfriend’s hand. “What about you?”

“All good, just a few hives here and there,” Izzy explained as she moved to pull Clary on the bed with her. “Are you done for the night?”

“I still have to put everything away, but yeah.” Clary allowed Izzy to pull her down and smiled, sitting somewhat on her girlfriend in bed. When she snuggled closer to Izzy because of the winter cold, Clary felt an uncomfortable rectangle in Izzy’s leather jacket.

“You’re not comfy,” she complained with a pout.

“Excuse me?” Izzy blinked down and remembered what she was hiding. “Oh, your gift!”

Izzy pulled away a bit before she reached into her front pocket and pulled out a neatly wrapped package.

“Simon said you both would always open one on Christmas Eve.”  

Clary’s face broke out into a wide smile as she kept looking between Isabelle and the gift.

“Izzy, you didn’t have to,” she started before Isabelle’s finger was on her lips.

“I love you, and I wanted to do this,” Izzy explained and kissed the top of Clary’s head. “Plus, have you met Alec? Us Lightwoods love showering our partners in gifts.”

Clary smiled as she took in Izzy’s words, knowing them to be true. She would often have to watch what she said around the New York Institute Head, or else Izzy would go off and get it for her. Clary had once seen an ad while patrolling for an expensive art set and commented on how it would be nice to own it. Two days later, Isabelle had shown up in their room with it.

“So I can open it now?” Clary asked, making grabby hands at the gift. If she couldn’t talk her girlfriend out of spoiling her, then she might as well enjoy it.

“Hmm, it depends. Do I get a gift back?” Izzy teased. She knew she would be giving Clary her present no matter what, but she could at least have some fun first.

“I thought you said last night I was the best gift ever?” Clary smirked and leaned over to claim Isabelle’s lips. “You said my tongue was a gift from the Angels, remember?”

Izzy groaned into the kiss pulling Clary closer by the loose towel she was wearing still.

“That’s not playing fair.”

“I learned from the best.” Clary nipped Isabelle’s bottom lip before pulling back and once again making grabby hands. “I win, right?”

Isabelle handed her the rectangular package with a mock glare.

Clary carefully started to tear the tape, holding the brown package together. As she began to peel away brown strips, she saw black, red, and gold. She didn’t know what exactly it could be, but the feel and shape said it was some sort of book.

When Clary finally pulled off the last part of the wrapping, she gasped. It was a black leather-bound book with three different colored cloth bookmarks sewn in. There were golden runes carved into the cover, and the pages were dyed a washed-out red but not quite pink yet.

“Don’t worry, it’s just the edges,” Izzy explained, snapping her out of her exploration. “The pages are white, so you can still sketch it in with color pencils just fine. It’s just the edges that are dyed that color.”

Clary digested the words, opening the book to confirm Izzy’s statement. The page’s felt soft and bumpy under her hands.

“I asked Simon what types of paper you used. I didn’t know there were so many diffe-,”

“Thank you,” Clary cut her off as she lunged herself at Izzy and hugged her tightly. “Thank you for this.”

Isabelle smiled and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend.

“Merry Christmas, Clary.”