#i bought one of those long cardigan things. it comes down to my knees and swish swish!!

[gideonisms]

harrow was so right about the robes. Swish swish

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Four

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Almost Smut

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: hello I hope you all enjoy this!! I’m loving this series and I hope to keep updating it and Of Kings and Beasts regularly. Idk though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

~*~

“You’re sure I look good?”

Nat groans and climbs off your couch reluctantly, grabbing you by the shoulders and stopping you from pacing anymore.

“You look gorgeous.” You bite your bottom lip nervously, hands itching to come up to your mouth.

Your hair is pushed behind your ears, natural and beautiful, and your makeup is light. Adorning your body is a simple light blue dress that stops just above your knees, as well as a beige cardigan that hangs loosely off of your shoulders.

Nat grabs you a pair of beige heels and shoves them into your hands.

“Put your shoes on and stop worrying. He’s on his way up so even if you didn’t look good there’s no time to change now.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths before crouching down and putting your shoes on. Right as you’re doing up the clasp around your ankle there's a knock on your door.

You freeze in place, looking at Natasha in absolute terror, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s open!” She calls. You shake your head, one shoe on and the other off as you run to your bedroom.

“I can’t,” you whisper as the door starts to open. Hiding away in your bedroom, you listen to Nat greet Bucky.

“She’s almost ready. Just needs to grow a pair,” The redhead says loudly, her footsteps clomping towards the bedroom door.

She whips it open, ready to give you an earful, but when she sees the genuine fear on your face she reconsiders.

“Beans, you’re gonna be okay. He’s a real gentleman and he won’t do anything that you don’t want to do, I promise.” You take a few deep breaths, trying to hold back tears.

“What if I get hurt again, Nat? I don’t think I could handle it.” The weak whimper that leaves you has her heart shattering in her chest.

“He won’t hurt you. If he does I’ll kill him, I swear I will.” You sniffle and chuckle softly, sliding your foot into your other shoe and doing the clasp up.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.” She nods, taking your hand and giving it a firm squeeze before stepping aside and motioning to the door.

You take a deep breath, lift your chin, then leave your bedroom.

Bucky stands in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button-up, as well as a leather jacket.

“Wow,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes you in.

“You look... wow.”

You smile shyly at him. “You clean up pretty nice yourself, James.” He chuckles, then, as if remembering he’s holding flowers, offers the bouquet to you.

“I uh... I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like... and Steve said to get red roses but Nat said that red roses are for love and I think it’s too early for that because this is our first date and all and I really didn’t wanna scare you away and now I’m definitely talking too much but I’ve been looking forward tot his for.. since we set our real first date and-” Nat interrupts his rambling, hating and loving seeing her usually so confident friend stumbling over his words.

“You’re doing great, Casanova. Keep this up and she won’t even leave.” You glare at Nat over your shoulder, not wanting her to be mean to Bucky.

“Thank you, I love them.”

He got you a bouquet of beautiful lavender roses, white lilies, and an assortment of small little leaves that tie the whole bouquet together.

“Nat, can you put these in a vase for me please?” You hand the bouquet to her after taking a long sniff, smiling eagerly at her. She nods, taking them from you and handing you your purse.

“Now go on. Have fun kids, use a condom and all that.” You groan, risking a glance at Bucky to see that his cheeks are bright pink.

Feeling better at the fact that you’re not the only nervous one, you take his outstretched arm and allow him to walk you out of your apartment.

“So where are you taking me?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Well, I know this little café that makes these nice little sandwiches. I figured we could start there, grab a bite to eat and see where the day takes us.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths to calm your heart.

~*~

“I’m really glad you gave me a chance, I know things started really rocky but I... I’m glad I get a second chance.”

You smile at him, setting down your cup of tea and nodding.

“Of course. I don’t think I would have ever heard the end of it from Nat if I didn’t anyway.” The two of you share a laugh, him smiling brightly at you.

“I’ll make sure I thank her.” You nod, taking another sip of the decaf tea, heart thundering in your chest.

“I-I’m sorry, I just need to take something. I’m very nervous and my heart-” He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing gently.

“You don’t need to explain it to me if you don’t want to. Do whatever you need to do to keep yourself healthy, okay? Your health and happiness... those are my top priority.” You swear if it wasn’t beating unbearably fast against your ribs it would melt.

You take your pills as discreetly as you can, but Bucky, being ever the gentleman, excused himself to the bathroom to give you space to do whatever you need to do.

~*~

“I uh... I pushed Steve out of the way when we were in a really bad fire. I saw the beam coming down and it would’ve killed him. So I pushed him out of the way and... took the damage instead. Doctors told me if I had waited a second longer it would’ve been too high up and would’ve got me right in the chest. Instead... it took my arm.”

You sit idling in Bucky’s truck in front of your apartment, the two of you talking for the past two hours.

“Oh James... I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head, smiling at you. “If it hadn’t happened then Steve wouldn’t be alive and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I could’ve done something. Besides, Tommy thinks it’s pretty cool.” You nod at that, fingers tracing small patterns on his metal hand.

“I uh... When I was younger my mom was really careful with me. She wouldn’t let me do gym class... I could never go out with friends... nothing. One day we got into a nasty fight before I went to school. We called each other names and said awful things...

“I stopped on my way to school and bought an energy drink.” He stiffens beside you, eyes wide.

“I’d never even had caffeinated tea before, but I was so... so angry. I thought that... ‘whatever happens will teach her’. And I drank it. The whole can. I started feeling it halfway through class and when I raised my hand to tell my teacher... I just passed out. Collapsed right there in the middle of math class. They rushed me to the hospital and... I’ll never forget the fear I saw on my mom’s face. They said I almost killed myself. My heart couldn't handle the caffeine and I almost died. So from then on I just kinda... listened to my mom. Lived my life in the safe lane.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, eyes on your pretty face as you continue tracing patterns on his prosthetic.

“I’m glad you took a chance with me,” he whispers.

You look up at him, a shy smile on your face.

“I am too.”

His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, and you do the same, silently granting him permission.

He leans in, and before you have a moment to second-guess your decision, his warm lips are against yours.

You whimper, hand grabbing his wrist while the other finds his hair. He leans forward, lips moving against yours as if that is what they were made to do.

After a moment he pulls away, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry! I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have done that. I-is your heart okay?” You giggle, pushing him back into his seat and climbing over until you’re seated comfortably on his lap.

“It's gonna take a little more than some kissing to stop me,” you whisper, bringing your lips back down onto his.

He kisses you with newfound passion, hands gripping your waist and pulling you tight against him. His tongue explores your mouth, dancing with your own and making you feel things you haven’t felt in... ever.

When you pull away to breathe he doesn't stop. No, his lips, teeth, and tongue work their way down your neck until you’re quivering on top of him, body desperate for more.

“Come upstairs,” you whisper, panting against his mouth.

He lets out a weak chuckle then sighs, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” You pull away, giving him a confused look. “Why not?” His hands find your thighs beneath your dress and he rubs his thumbs in circles on the soft skin.

“I... I wanna take my time with you. I wanna take you out again and I wanna wine and dine you real nice. If we just get right to it... It doesn’t feel right.” You go to climb off his lap but he stops you.

“This feels right. I didn’t mean that this,” he motions to where you are,” doesn’t feel right. I just... you already deserve so much more than I can give you, and I wanna do everything I can to prove that I’m gonna take care of you. Believe me, I wanna come upstairs and fuck you until you can’t remember your goddamn name.” You shiver at his words and he chuckles, pulling your hips forward a bit. You gasp as you feel his hard length through his pants, pressing up against you.

“I fucking want you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck. “You’ve got no idea how bad I want you. But you deserve to be taken out and treated like a queen.” He pulls away, flesh hand coming up and cupping your cheek.

“I like you, (Y/n). And I don’t wanna ruin things before they get good.” You rest your hands against his chest, fingers splayed on the warm skin beneath his shirt from where you’ve popped a few buttons open.

“I like you too, James. A lot more than I thought I would. And... if I’m being honest... that scares me.” He frowns, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue.

“I just... what if something happens to you?” His heart melts and he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then another.

“Don’t you worry about me, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as I’ve got you willing to wait for me.” You grin, nodding and leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. Your lips linger long enough to feel the steady pulsing beneath the skin.

“I’m gonna be waiting for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good.”

He walks you up to your apartment, hand held tightly in yours and a goofy smile on his face.

When you reach your door you feel sad that the night is coming to an end. Slowly you turn to him, eyes filled with things you want to say but can’t explain.

He simply chuckles softly, metal hand cupping your jaw gently.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” You ask softly, eyelids fluttering closed as he leans down. His lips find yours and you never want them to leave.

They fit so perfectly against yours, you could spend all of eternity kissing him.

Unfortunately, he pulls away after another fantastic moment.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes on his as he slowly stands up to his full height.

“You can still wine and dine me even if you stay the night,” you whisper, already knowing what his answer will be.

He laughs quietly, shaking his head while smile lines fan out around his eyes.

“You, (Y/n), are gonna be the death of me. But god, what a way to go.” He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek then a lingering kiss to your knuckles before pulling away slowly.

“I’ll see you soon, babydoll. And I promise to text when I get home.” You nod, watching as he walks down the hallway. He shoots a glance over his shoulder when he reaches the elevator, a smile spreading on his face and red coating his cheeks as he sees you watching him.

Only once the door is closed do you unlock your apartment.

You hardly have time to step a foot in when you hear the door behind you open up.

“Next time you put on a show like that let me know so I can make popcorn.” You giggle, turning to Gladys and shaking your head.

“If we had known you’d be peeping on us we wouldn’t have done anything.” She shrugs, smiling at you. “It’s hard not to watch with a man like that standing there.” You roll your eyes at her.

“Goodnight, Gladys.” She’s already back in her apartment.

“So I’m assuming it went well?”

You nearly scream.

“Nat?! What the fuck!” She laughs, throwing her head back and letting out a good belly-laugh.

“You should’ve seen your face!” You glare at her, throwing your purse at her.

“Not funny! Why are you still here?” You kick off your shoes and groan as your toes finally have time to relax after being in heels all day.

“After last time I wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. But from the sounds of it I almost caught something scarring, didn’t I?” You shake your head, sighing and plopping down on the couch with her.

“He’s a fucking gentleman. For better or for worse.” She nods, hand slapping your knee.

“I told you. He’s gonna treat you right, Beans. I promise.”

[foreverwcnter]

cardigan / p.p

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: “you thought i was dead?” after you go missing with no leads to what happened, you are presumed dead and peter writes letters addressed to you, to help with his grief

word count: 3k

requested: no

warnings: semi character death, heartbreaking angst :( , fluff

a/n: this is for @ariistotles​ lovely writing challenge! i am using prompt 9 for my fic and i hope you guys enjoy!

two days. forty-eight hours. two thousand eighty minutes. one hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. that’s how long you had been missing. the team of avengers, including desperate peter parker sat around a table, staring at the very little evidence they had of your disappearance. it was only two nights ago when you and peter had been cuddled in bed and you had left to go home. 

evidently, you never returned home. 

peter ran his hands through his hair with frustration, eyes bloodshot red from crying. he was terrified and guilty, knowing if he had just walked you home, he wouldn’t be staring at the picture of you on the screen in front of him.

“we have no leads,” sam wilson stated,” the only evidence is this cardigan.”  

peter knew you were wearing it when you left. he recognized the cute patches of stars scattered on the knitted sleeves and the oversized buttons along the ends. it was always so big on you, he didn’t think you would have bought it from that thrift store, but the moment you laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it. you had fixed up the holes and messed up seams, it looked like something someone would shove under a bed. but you took it into your care.

“she was wearing that after she left my apartment,” peter explained, voice cracking. the entire time he had been silent as they investigated your disappearance. “she almost forgot it but i reminded her.” 

peter took a glance at the cardigan, instantly taking notice of the blood-stained sleeves. 

“we have to find her,” he finally added, one tear slipping down his cheek. tony hadn’t spoken at all, and peter knew why. peter understood what it felt like to lose someone. there was a chance you’d be found again, but it was slim. you were just gone. 

the next few days were hell for peter. they hadn’t found anything and all he wanted to believe was that you were at least alive. everyone around him seemed to be giving up already. peter had even overheard tony talking with the other avengers, thinking that you weren’t alive and he’d have to plan a funeral. peter refused to give up, he couldn’t believe the idea that you were dead. there was only a glimmer of hope left in some of the avengers. every day that passed, the more likely it was that you were dead. it wasn’t until two months of searching, they finally gave in.

tony kept the funeral private. it took everything in peter to just crawl out of bed that early morning and may had to help him tie the tie for his suit. his hands trembled too much to get it straight. he didn’t want to believe you were gone, but by this point, he was giving up himself. everything at the funeral was dark, the opposite of what you were like. you always had the brightest of smiles, your hair would always smell like fresh daisies from a meadow. everyone who gathered around was silent, staring at an empty casket, watching it get lowered into the ground. 

peter found himself alone after the casket was six feet under and collapsed to his knees in front of the gravestone. tears openly fell down his face, as he stared at the name written on the stone. y/n stark. he wanted to stop making events like this so familiar. first his parents, then uncle ben. now you. the love of his life, the person he dreamed of marrying. some people see this as an unattainable fantasy because when you are young, they assume you know nothing. but peter was sure. you were supposed to be the one. his endgame. but you were gone. 

a hand tapped his shoulder revealing the familiar face of tony stark. seeing him made peter fall apart as tony pulled him into a tight embrace. peter finally let it all out. with his shoulders shaking with sobs and soft cries leaving his breathless lips, peter parker was finally showing his grief. 

grief was a fickle thing. it constantly changed. peter had been in such disbelief for the past months you were gone, but now he was trying to bargain with what happened. he gave his suit back to tony, he moved on from being spider-man, and tried living normally. he was trying to change himself for you. but it was hard. it took every amount of effort to bring himself out of his bedroom. the only thing that kept him going was the desire to do things you would want him to do. it didn’t take long for aunt may to take peter to a therapist. they could help him sort out the pain he was holding onto.

“tell me about her.”

“y/n was the perfect example of joy,” peter admitted with a desolate tone. “she was always looking to help anyone before herself. something she got from her dad. her hair always smelled amazing, like a garden almost. she liked to braid it, and stick flowers in it. y/n got the idea from tangled…” he paused, staring at the ground. he had planned a date before you went missing. he was going to take you to a lantern festival. where you could recreate the scene from tangled. peter knew how happy it would have made you. but you were gone. you’d never see the lanterns, you’d never live that dream.

“she had a cardigan… something she found at a thrift store, on the ground without a price tag. it had holes in the sleeves and she chose to patch them up with little stars. it was always too big on her, y/n always wore it with everything. i never saw her without it. she once forgot it when we left for a road trip, made me turn around to go get it for her but i was happy to,” a rare smile came onto peter’s face as he thought about the dimples on your cheek when he had put the cardigan around you. the smile faded,” it was the only thing they found when she went missing. it had blood on it and i know something bad happened.”

“i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t save her.”

the woman in the chair across from him said nothing, just stared at peter as he avoided her gaze. after a couple moments, she began speaking,” you need to figure out a way to say goodbye to y/n. i understand how hard that may seem, but there are ways. i want you to write letters addressed to her. just start with something normal, you don’t have to address her death in the letter, just make it between you and her. the more you write these. the easier it’ll get to let go. “

peter stared at a blank piece of paper for hours that night. he didn’t know how to start. every time he picked up the pen his hand started shaking and he was too scared to write your name. with a frustrated groan, he jumped onto his bed, face buried in his hands. normally, peter would go to you to talk out his stress, to feel your arms around him but he couldn’t have that now. 

that’s when he took notice of your cardigan hung on the corner of his bed frame. he took it into his hands, letting out a sigh. it was the only thing he had left out you. the only part of you that was left behind. so peter put it around himself, pulling his arms into the sleeves. it felt like you had your arms around him again and gave him the boost he had been looking for. 

so he wrote:

my love y/n,  

i don’t want to talk about you being gone yet, just let me have this moment to tell you the things i didn’t say. you were perfect. you are still perfect. i know that sees unbelievable to you, but every moment i shared with you, i cherished like a child would cherish a new toy. 

except i never grew tired of you. you always came with new surprises. whether it was the time i thought you had never watched star wars and you admitted to being one of the biggest star wars nerds there is or the time i caught you crying to rom coms when we were friends, wishing you had that kind of romance. you were a hopeless romantic. mj said you were always looking for a disney prince of your own. i hope i was good enough to earn that title. i hope i gave you your dream love story. because every moment i spent with you was something exhilarating and i ever wanted to pass it up. 

 i just hope i was enough for you.

peter knew the letter was short, but he couldn’t bear to finish. tears marked the page with scratched out words and messy handwriting. he was supposed to write a letter every day. every day until he was able to say one word. goodbye. 

slowly he started getting there. very slowly. 

every day he wrote a new letter. they consistently got longer, but there were days it got short. he tried his best to avoid talking about you being gone. sometimes the letters were simple, saying i went to the grocery store for the first time in awhile. i saw your favorite snack and ended up buying it. i never liked it until now. i guess you influenced me so much.

there were harder days though. these days the paper would be stained with tears and may would come into his room and would find him crying. those letters always had the words “i miss you” and questioned why you had to go so soon. 

there was only one thing he always did when he was writing these letters. he was always wearing your cardigan. he even began wearing it just around the house or to school. may never failed to notice and would wash it for him to wear the next day when peter forgot. having the cardigan around him made him feel comfortable and safe. almost like you were right with him. he even wore it to his second visit with the therapist, four months after your disappearance 

“it’s getting easier to write the letters,” the brunette boy admitted, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves. “i’ve wrote so many already. it’s almost like i can still talk to her, even when she’s gone.” 

the woman smiled. “that’s good peter.”

“but remember, the goal isn’t to hold on, you have to let go. you have to say goodbye.” 

peter hated the sound of it. he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, he couldn’t imagine moving on from you because every day he still missed you more than anything. 

it took another six months for him to finally write a final letter. ten months after you had disappeared.

my love, y/n, 

this isn’t an easy one to write. these past few months have been hell but i’ve rolled with the punches. i just left flowers at your gravestone. chrysanthemums, your favorites. it’s always been hard seeing your name on that stone and not seeing you next to me.

i miss every inch of you, y/n. i miss the feeling of your lips on mine and the tender kisses you’d press on my neck. i miss watching you fall asleep, i miss running my hand over your back while you snored. i miss seeing your beautiful face, the one that never failed to make me smile. every time i see a star wars movie come on, i’m reminded of your constant rants about padmé and anakin’s romance and how badass all the women of star wars are. i even still think about the day i met you. we were just kids, and you pushed over some other little kids for me. i think that was the day i knew you were important. it only just now dawned on me.

and the best part about you was when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite. just like the one you used to always wear.

but i think the one thing i miss the most is just your voice. you always talked me to sleep on rough nights. it’s the same voice that got me through the trials of being a hero, the one that comforted me after hard patrols and nightmares. it was the one that sang ‘i can see the light’ from the lantern scene from tangled everytime we watched it. it’s the one i miss the most and i’d do anything to hear it again, y/n. 

but for now, it’s your turn to listen to me. and listen closely. i love you. you were my soulmate and i still think you are. i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you forever. we’ll see each other again, because you always come back to me. you’re my angel. my love. my dream. my soulmate. my darling. the love of my life. we’re meant to be together. i know one day we’ll find each other. and when we do… i’ll never let go of you again. 

y/n stark, just do me a favor. keep on being you. wherever you are. i’ll keep on being me. i’ll carry on for you.

so now i just have to say one more word. one more word that isn’t forever because i know i’ll be with you. you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you. because loving you is like being drunk under a streetlight. it’s the thrill of living life and some kind of light near you. even without the light being right beside you. being in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

so here it is, y/n. here it is.

goodb- 

peter was interrupted as he wrote, a hard knock from the door of the apartment. for a second, he waited, but it came again. it sounded urgent by how heavy it was and how frantically the person was knocking. he stumbled out of the chair, leaving the open letter on his desk as he fumbled with the lock. once it opened, peter had begun thinking he was dreaming.

because the person standing in front of the door, was you. 

with his jaw slacking, peter rubbed his eyes trying to process what was in front of him. and to think he was about to write the word goodbye, and here you were, back from the dead. his eyes watered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but no words came. he couldn’t comprehend the fact you were alive. “ y/n… no… how? how are you here? you were dead… this can’t be real.” everything hit him like an oncoming train, he was convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. was this a test? was this testing him to see if he was actually prepared to say goodbye?

“you thought i was dead?” 

this was what brought peter back to reality. he fell to his knees so fast in front of you, the tears falling down without a doubt as sobs left his thin lips, the ones you used to kiss. everything from the past few months came pouring out. “you were dead. everyone gave up and i didn’t want to but i did. i gave up, i failed you. i did the one thing you told me not to do because i was weak. and i couldn’t hold myself together at your funeral…” you knelt down as he sobbed and choked out every word, pulling him to your chest. “i wanted you to be the one to help me, but you weren’t there. you weren’t here to hug me before and i tried holding on for you. i tried and i thought i was never going to get over it and move on and i never did. i never did, y/n ,because i love you and you are the only person who will be constant in my life even if you were to fall out of love.”

“and i wrote you letters. i wrote you so many letters. i was writing one… just before you came… it was the last one, y/n, the one where i was going to say goodbye and now here you are,” peter’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“you don’t have to say goodbye anymore, pete,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before he finally got a clear look at you. you looked no different than before. you had a a few bruises here and there, but you were alive. peter couldn’t believe just how much time passed and you were still the embodiment of beauty in his eyes. 

a smile formed on his face, a dimple showing on his cheek,”i knew you’d come back to me.” 

with that, he pressed his lips against yours, a hand moving up to cup your cheek as yours moved to his hair, running your hands through the messy brown curls. your lips were soft, just like they used to be and they tasted just like your favorite cherry chapstick that you used to always use. peter relished in the tender moment, butterflies coming alive in his stomach as he pressed his other hand on the small of your back. you both pulled away gently, eyes still closed with foreheads resting against each other.

“i love you,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of peter’s nose.

he returned it with his own, murmuring,” i love you more.” 

his heart fluttered in the comfortable silence and the air still held the same amount of love and adoration for each other as it did before. peter never wanted to give it up and he never wanted to let it go. with the cardigan still wrapped around his shoulders and your arms around him, for the first time in months, peter finally remembered how it feels to be secure and safe. 

you both finally stood up, fingers interlocked and right before you both headed inside, you glanced at peter and asked with a laugh:

“is that my cardigan?”

permanent taglist — @ariistotles​  @saturnpeter​ @skymoonandstardust​ @hey-its-grey​ @pufflypuffle​ @uglypastels​ @learning-howto-be-myselfx3​ @simi11​ @abby-blxck​ @pxterbpxrker​ @euphoricmads​ @neverlandparker​ @fairytaleparker​ @dahliaspidey​ @thegirlwiththeimpala​ @pterprkr​ @cosmicholland​ @theamazingtomholland​ @xoxohollands​ @screamholland​ @beiroviski​ @sunflowerhollands​

peter parker taglist — @myslightobsessions​

[swordladywritesthings]

Patton tries skirts (and Logan is gay)

So, those pictures huh? They might be my favorite thing ever. And I heard someone wanted a fic with Logan reacting to Patton’s skirts! I’m not 100% happy with it, but I never am.

Pairings: logicality, background prinxiety

Warnings: Sides in skirts (willingly), brief mentions of fighting and blood (Patton will throw hands for his friends)

Word count: 956

   “Oh this is perfect!” Patton exclaimed from behind the changing room’s curtain.

   “I’m glad you find it satisfactory. Now may we go home? We’ve been out shopping for four hours now.” Logan said, a fond sort of exasperation in his voice. He loved spending time with his best friend, but this was getting a little ridiculous. 

   “Alright, alright, give me a second.” Patton giggled, starting to change out of the new piece of clothing he had been trying on.

   A few moments later, he pulled back the curtain, several articles of clothing draped over his arm. Logan saw a piece that he didn’t see Patton pick up, something short and tan, but then Patton shifted so it was hidden from sight. The smaller man hooked his other arm through Logan’s elbow and smiled up at him. “Ready to go?” He asked brightly.

   About an hour later, Logan and his other housemates were all sitting on the couch waiting for Patton to change. It had become a tradition a long time ago that every time one of them bought clothes they had to model for the others. Janus had said it was an opportunity to encourage self-love, and Roman just liked the idea of getting to show off his new clothes.

   Now, as they were waiting, Logan took the opportunity to think about… things. Specifically how he was going to act like he wasn’t madly in love with his best friend.

   Logan had fallen for Patton the same week they had all moved in together, after he found Janus bandaging Patton’s bloody knuckles and trying to calm him down as Patton rambled angrily. “I’m not going to let anyone talk bad about my friends! Especially not about things they can’t control!” He had said, waving his free hand in the air for emphasis. Logan had learned later that some stranger at the mall had made a nasty comment about the scars covering the left side of Janus’ face, and Patton had decided that was unacceptable.

   It had been an uphill fight to ignore his feelings from there.

   And, as Patton called out that his first outfit was ready, Logan feared that he may lose that battle.

   Patton showed off many cute outfits, including a light blue cardigan that was slightly too big for him and a hoodie that was patterned like the sky. After they were all finished complimenting his latest piece, a graphic t-shirt with a dog pun on it, Patton announced that he had one more outfit to show off, and this one was the best of all.

   “You’ve said that about the last three.” Virgil commented, smiling a little to show that he was only poking fun.

   “Oh come now, Dr. Doom-and-Gloom! Let the man have some fun!” Roman teased his boyfriend, nudging him in the ribs.

   The moment that Patton came out of the bathroom, Logan’s jaw figuratively hit the floor. He was wearing a peach skirt that came down to his knees and a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The skirt had suspenders attached that had little cat paw prints at the ends, and the hem of the skirt was embroidered with small white cats.

   Roman was on his feet in an instant, rushing over to inspect the skirt, excitedly squealing. Virgil studied the look for a moment before speaking. “The blue brings out your eyes.”

   Patton was beaming from the compliments, but there was one thing bringing his mood down. Logan hadn’t spoken yet. He was sitting straight up on the couch, staring at Patton’s outfit, mouth slightly agape. That worried Patton a little. What if he hated it? What if he thought he was weird for wanting to wear a skirt? The whole point of this outfit was for Logan to like it, so what would he do if he hated it?

   As soon as he was able to separate himself from Roman, Patton walked over to stand in front of Logan, looking at him through his lashes, almost shy. “What do you think, Lo?” He asked quietly.

   It took a moment for Logan to respond, simply due to the fact that his brain was screaming OH MY GOD HE’S WEARING A SKIRT AND HE HAS HIS SLEEVES ROLLED UP AND NOW HE’S LOOKING AT ME AND OH GOD I’M SO GAY. Eventually he was able to shake himself out of his stupor and stand up from the couch, giving Patton’s outfit a long look. “I think,” he said quietly, taking Patton’s hands in his own. “That we need to go shopping for skirts more often.”

   Patton’s face split into a huge grin. “You like it?” He said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

   “No, I don’t like it,” Logan said flatly, but rushed on when he saw Patton’s smile falter. “I love it. You look wonderful, Patton.”

   Patton’s face flushed at the compliment, and his hands tightened in Logan’s. He hesitated for a moment before rising to his tiptoes and placing a feather-light kiss onto his cheek. When he lowered back down, he let go of Logan’s hands and turned to Janus, beginning to walk toward the kitchen while babbling about dinner.

   Logan, however, was rooted in place. Patton had kissed him? Well, not fully, but it counted to him. He was faintly aware of his fingers drifting up to land on the spot that Patton had placed his lips, and felt himself smile.

taglist for this fic: @irritating-lady-knight @patton-cake @literally-logicality-trash @catemons-blog

logicality taglist: @patton-cake

general taglist: @definitely-a-living-human @my-friends-art-and-writing @aerodynamic-enby

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

[frogsmulder]

Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 3 All The Colours Cannot Brighten

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they  finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.1k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully shuffled awkwardly, walking into the department store, having foregone underwear. Currently, it was at the top of her mental list as she tried to discreetly pull her slacks down to stop the seam irritating her. Mulder's hand was at home on her back, to make matters worse, the usually comforting gesture making it more difficult to shift her pants.

Mulder chuckled quietly, seeing her fidget. She elbowed him to remind him he was in the exact same situation and it wouldn't be hard to exacerbate it if she wanted to. He squeezed her hip in apology, but she could still feel him laughing.

Leaning up, Scully whispered in his ear, "This needs to be quick. There are security cameras everywhere; we don't want to increase our chances of being recognised." Her pulse quickened at the prospect. "So, a set of clothes, toiletries, and we get out."

He nodded. "We should split up to save time."

"Agreed."

They parted without a single word more, Scully heading up the stairs to the women's and children's section and Mulder staying in the men's. She watched him, as she climbed the stairs, grow smaller and out of sight, feeling that gnawing in her stomach swell in his absence. Sucking in a breath, she focused her mind and steeled herself for the rest of the operation.

On the second floor, Scully was greeted with a bombardment of bright colours. Keeping her head low, she ignored gaiety and headed straight to the lingerie section, picking up the first packet of black briefs she found in her size. Practicality over style reminded her of her childhood, her father's strict orders, how she both embraced, and rebelled. She was conscious of that storm brewing in her again. With her plain clothes, she could hide from the world and its prying eyes. Yet a niggling thought told her that no-one would notice if she picked out some lace, no-one would see beneath her exterior armour: she could have something for herself again. She brushed her fingers over the delicate material, daring to imagine the power she could have. A small piece of control regained. Perhaps she could banish her contrition from the bedroom. Take control.

Ultimately, she left the lace behind, opting to match her plain briefs with a couple of plain t-shirt bras; the peril of public exposure was starting to take its toll. Every tick of the clock marked a drip of anxiety pooling in her lungs and the water levels steadily rising. Time was marching on.

Just socks, t-shirts, jeans, a coat, and maybe a jumper. She wondered if it looked suspicious buying a whole wardrobe in one, but was too drained already to consider changing tactics.

She grabbed a pack of socks whilst hunting for some t-shirts and jeans.

Two t-shirts: checked.

One pair of jeans: checked.

Coat.

Scully wandered surreptitiously through the floor, doubtful it would have a waterproof, when she stumbled upon tiny hats and boots.

Her insides crumbled.

It had been so long since she'd set foot in this section, buying small clothes to wrap her small child snuggly in. He would be a year old now, she reminded herself, learning to walk, starting to babble. Walking slowly, as if in a dreamlike state, she found herself subconsciously heading for the 12-18 months; no control over the path her feet chose. She was surrounded by a sea of cotton soft baby clothing: yellow cardigans, baby blue t-shirts, miniature dungarees... She imagined his ginger hair in a red sunhat. He'd be a year old now, Scully reminded herself as she picked up a white whale soft toy. It was something that she could have bought for his birthday and watch him chew the tail off when he was teething; tuck him into bed with and read bedtime stories.

----------

Mulder went upstairs to find Scully, having got all he needed. Not finding her anywhere obvious, he started to panic.

"Sc–" he called, but his mouth closed around her name, stopping himself, aware of the crowd of other shoppers who would easily hear him. Forced into silence, he picked up the pace, scanning all the rows of clothes for his familiar sign of red hair.

 They are coming for you, son...

The sound of his pounding feet was mimicked by the rush of blood in his ears.

 If you want my advice... leave your pretty, little partner...

He felt dizzy and disoriented, not knowing where to look or which way to turn.

 get out of there while you still can...

He heard the giggle of a child cut through his mind with clarity but he dismissed it. After all, this was a department store, not a house haunted by unexplained phenomena; he had left those behind in his past. Yet he heard it again, closer, and he could have sworn it was from inside his head.

He stopped and turned around slowly.

Mulder saw that familiar red hair, peeking out from behind a rail, only it was more of a strawberry blonde and just above knee height. He crouched down to see her properly, but she moved away, only her blue eyes fixing sharply on his through the clothing.

"Em?" he whispered.

She made no response but turned away around the corner.

When Mulder rounded the corner himself, she was already at the other end, turning another, her bob of hair only there for a flash before she disappeared. He followed her winding trail, curious where she was leading him, until she stopped, standing next to someone, trying to tug at her shirt.

"Sc– Dana," he smiled, using her given name under some perceptive veil that it was safer. Emily nodded shyly. "You found her."

Scully turned around, still clutching the white whale. "What? Mulder? What are you doing here?"

"E–" He looked to Scully's side where Emily had just been but now was nowhere to be seen. "... I came to find you," he said, which was true, he just didn't want to unravel the traumatised inner workings of his brain in the middle of the baby section.

Then he realised where they were; where Scully had been; what Scully was holding in her hand.

"Dana," he whispered, a lump of worry caught in his throat, distorting his voice.

Scully looked down at the stuffed toy in her hands like she had her hand caught in the cookie jar. "We didn't buy him anything for his first birthday..." she tried to explain.

He wordlessly took the whale from her grasp and put it in the basket with the rest of his clothes like it already belonged.

She shook her head, searching his eyes for some understanding. "No, we can't... The money... We can't afford–"

"Yes we can," he interrupted her. Everybody grieved in their own way; maybe it could soothe him too. "Toiletries and then we're out of here," he reminded her.

"I haven't got a coat yet. Though, I think we're better off getting blankets for the car."

"You find the toiletries, I'll get the blankets. Meet back... by the stairs?"

Scully sighed.

Mulder stepped closer, wishing he could vanquish her hurt. "You sure you're okay, S–?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing." She brushed off his fussing, feeling like a small, incapable child herself under all the attention.

Mulder held her cheek in his palm and dried a stray tear.

"I'll be fine," she amended.

Trusting her, he gave Scully the basket and watched as she left him, walking quickly like she was running away. Her stiff gait so un-Scully-like and alien it was a physical embodiment of her grief. Himself feeling like cement, stayed, weighed down, swamped by a tide from slowly opening floodgates. Mulder looked at the row of white whales lined up on the shelf, each flopping with individual personality in the way that stuffing could make it appear so.

"Do you think he would like it?"

The bob of strawberry blonde hair nodded out of the corner of his eye before vanishing, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth alone.

----------

Scully was vaguely aware of what she's putting into the basket: deodorant, soap, razors, tampons– she hadn't even thought about those until she saw them. Her hand briefly hesitated over a box of condoms but she clenched it back into a fist. It would just be a reminder, an admittance, an avoidance.

At the checkout, she remained stoic and silent, resisting Mulder's touch at the small of her back. Ignoring the numbers as they flew by on the till, she handed over the money, too much to be paid in cash without raising eyebrows. If the cashier said something, she didn't notice. It wasn't until they were back on the dust-roads, alone, dressed comfortably in their new, plain clothes that Scully lowered her guard. By then, the day was long behind them, Selene cresting twilight in her silver, moon chariot. Night darkened their paths heading south, the chill creeping to tuck them in.

Curled up in the seat, Scully wrapped herself in the scratchy woolen blanket, it in no way kept the cold at bay. The white whale they had bought was tucked under her chin, squished closely to her chest as she held it tightly. She gazed out of the window, turned away from him, watching the last of the colours blur. At first, Mulder thought she was shivering from the cool air, so he rubbed her arm, but when he did so, she gasped and sniffed, retaking air like she would drown.

Mulder clenched his jaw and his fist on the steering wheel, angry with himself for not noticing sooner. They used to trek over the country all the time; long car rides filled with easy talking and comfortable quiet. Times were different, but their silence was a symptom of something more fatal. He wondered how it was so simple to forget that they had changed. He pulled to the side of the road and turned the key on the ignition.

"What... are you doing?" Scully whispered, choking on the sound of her broken voice.

He tried to reach for her hand. "Scully, please..." His plead faded into the stillness.

She remained looking out the window, focusing on the darkness. "I'm fine."

It was a knee-jerk reaction, taken from a box of samples she'd collected over the years. Scully cringed when she heard the old habit spill from her lips. It was an obvious lie– she knew it– risking exposure, especially to Mulder, who knew her so well. Feeling she had to was worse. Did she want Mulder to tell her she was wrong or was she only trying to kid herself?

She expected his words to follow swiftly, felt them on her tongue as he was going to say them. Yet they never came; his hand settled still on her elbow, the silence growing louder.

He continued to give her his undivided attention until she crumbled under the weight of his worry.

"I just..." She paused, licking her lips, trying to find the words to explain when her head was an empty void. She turned around to face him, yet she bowed her head, failing to hold his gaze. Huffing, Scully collected her feelings and imagined holding them in her chest. They trickled through the cracks in her hands, slipping as she struggled to understand them. What she had left in her palms was the guilt that tainted everything she touched. She tried again. "... Want to be happy... I'm not sure I can do that again. Not when there's so much missing."

Mulder gulped, running out of words to comfort her. I'm here, he wanted to say, You have me. But deep down he knew it was pointless saying it; it wasn't enough for her, even if it was for him. He couldn't deny that they were different people– very different people– despite all that they shared.

"It's going to come back for us," she stated simply and braved a glimpse at him. "We shouldn't have gone to the store. We shouldn't have stayed in the motel, Mulder."

He melted in her gaze, hating to see her burn herself in penance for all the things she couldn't control. Only that morning had he put a smile upon her face; things seeming hopeful. The way she had giggled wrapped in his arms now a distant dream.

You know she's right, Mulder. How do you save her now? the grizzled man chuckled, but Mulder ignored the voice.

"You said it yourself, Scully, we needed those things: 'practically speaking'." He felt cruel for using her own words against her, but they were the only ones he had.

She didn't turn away like he was expecting her to. Instead, she trained her eyes on his in the darkness. It wasn't a cold, hard stare but it wasn't filled with warmth either. She reached for his hand, locking their fingers together: a last act of hope. Mulder held onto the feeling, closing his eyes to the darkness.

"Maybe I was wrong."

[sneezefiction]

you’re my adventure

Nishinoya x Reader - Scenario

desc: engagements and soft moments

a/n: a request from @curlykoo for some fluffy, sweet Noya! i’m sorry I couldn’t pull off a sequel to the angsty noya fic, but I hope this makes you smile <333 thank you so much for requesting + waiting ! (my titles get cheesier every time i post lmao)

warnings: none! (legit, you’re gonna b smothered in fluff)

wc: 1500

---

“Keep your eyes covered, y/n.” Nishinoya says, leading you gently by your hand to a destination in the open air.

Midsummer nights are never chilly, but you wouldn’t have minded a small jacket or cardigan.

He’d planned for your ultimate comfort and, with your eyes still closed, envelops you in a light, fluffy blanket. He knows you well.

So you trust him and keep walking, one hand in his, the other grasping the blanket on your shoulder.

Your feet finally tap the side of a small curb, and with that he says,

“Now open!” In a nervously, excited whisper.

---

Noya exists for the purpose of adventure. To know and taste every sensation. To feel ridged mountainsides. To hunt for new experiences. Capturing every living, breathing thing in a mental photo. Documenting each distinct memory.

Novelty is forever fleeting, but some are born to find it. Again and again and again.

And that’s Nishinoya for you. Always finding, forever searching.

But for so long, he’s done it alone.

And, he supposes, alone isn’t… bad.

It’s true, there’s freedom in venturing by himself. He’s free to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases.

No one to look out for, nothing to tie him down.

Just endless journeys for him to explore.

But there’s a point when “alone” simply becomes “lonely.”

And that shift was a hard pill to swallow… because to settle down and stifle the “lonely” seemed to mean he had to lose his true love. Adventure.

Little did he know, the true adventure was about to start as you made your entrance into his life.

---

It’s Friday once again.

And Fridays are deemed exploration days by your bubble-machine of a boyfriend, Nishinoya.

Thus it makes sense that the week is incomplete, if not absolutely suffocating to him, if he hasn’t had a chance to leave your snug apartment to feel grass below his feet and the rustle of wind through his hair.

You usually give him space to go off, self-examine, and explore by himself. It’s something he’s always needed to do and it’s never gotten in the way of your relationship.

If anything it made you love him and his unique spirit even more.

However, every once in a while, he’ll want you to join him.

Tonight just happens to be one of those nights. No rhyme or reason to it.

It’s not the most unusual request, but as you asked “where to,” he refused you an answer.

Yet, the sparkle in his eye told you that he was hiding something.

Something significant.

Something special he just had to share with you.

So you let him take you by the hand, pulling you toward this secret destination.

---

“And open!”

It takes you a moment to realize where you are.

It’s exactly where you had your first date with this spiky-haired boy. The roof of the parking garage.

You fondly remember blue tongues and sugary, sweet lips from the slushies Noya had bought you back then. How he chased you after you ruffled-up his hair, letting you think you could get away, but catching up with you in no time. How when he caught you, he cupped your cheeks, staring into your eyes adoringly.

You shared many long, devoted kisses that night. Delicate touches. Conversations about passions and desires.

Since then, you’ve been attached at the hip.

Y’all rarely revisited that exact spot, deeming it a “sacred place” meant only for perfect moments and irreversible discussions and decisions. Your heart is racing.

The lot is comfortably empty, a brilliant full moon above you acting as the primary light source.

Before you are a pile of pillows and blankets, a small cluster of candles, and… of course…

Those truly iconic blue slushies.

You’re at a loss for words.

He leads you to his setup, letting you get comfortable enough to fully take in the scene.

It’s romantic.

Divine.

Unbelievably thoughtful.

For someone so carefree, you forget just how much beauty and ambiance matters to Nishinoya. Every last detail is there, pristine yet cozy. The location and atmosphere, perfect.

You break the silence,

“Noya, this is… stunning.” Your mouth hangs open slightly, in awe of the scene set before you.

That he cared so deeply for this very moment, for you, to do all of this.

“I just- I- Even the slushies!” You’re laughing, words coming out in jumbles.

So you slouch down into the pillow, legs curled into your chest, hands resting on your knees.

The stars overhead are completely outshone by your wide, sparkling eyes.

“So what’s all this for, baby? It’s not our anniversary, y’know?” You smile, genuinely curious and a little nervous.

Your usually chatty, animated boyfriend is completely silent.

He wordlessly gets down on his knees in front of you and sets his hands on top of yours.

Taking both of them into his own, he waits a minute, stroking them with his thumb.

He then takes the deepest breath he can muster,

“Y/n… all my life I’ve wanted to be free.” He starts, voice shaky.

“You know how much I love adventure...” 

You nod slowly, your eyes shining as they meet his, 

“and I’ve had my fair share of them.” He expresses with a smile on his lips, picturing one of those precious moments right now.

And suddenly, his words gain strength and confidence.

“But I never realized that I could feel this free. Especially not with someone else by my side.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

This isn’t any old conversation anymore.

No, this pertains to you. Your relationship. Your Noya.

“Y/n… you should know, my old life pales in comparison to these past two years I’ve spent with you.” He states boldly, no longer wavering.

“Those 22 years don’t match up to the amount of life I get to share with you now.”

He can hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“You’re my adventure, y/n.” He reveals, his face warm, but heart even warmer.

And the happiest of tears are dripping down your chin, onto his hands.

“I want you to know that out of every amazing mountaintop I’ve climbed, you’re better than it’s peak.”

“Not even the bluest, clearest ocean, the steepest waterfall, or the most beautiful flower can compete with all the wonderful things I’ve experienced with you.”

He shifts and shuffles to grab something out of his pocket.

But, of course, he drops it first.

Nishinoya let’s the most comical gasp you’ve ever heard, escape his lips.

You laugh, tears falling faster, but youe smile growing so wide your face begins to hurt.

He recovers the item quickly and mentally kicks himself for ruining the vibe like the complete goof he actually is.

But it’s clear what’s going on.

It’s barely made visible by the moonlight and the subtle glimmer of candles...

but there’s a small, velvet box in the palm of his hand.

Even though you’d already begun to expect it, you can’t help put both of your hands over your mouth in shock.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need your hands back, please.” He laughs, knowing his secret is out now.

“Because, you see… I have this ring…” He pauses,

“...and I kinda want you to wear it for the rest of your life.”

He gazes at you for a moment longer, soaking in your reaction.

“Please marry me, y/n!” The words fall out his mouth in the most Noya way.

It feels just like a movie.

Where the whole world ceases to spin and gravity releases its hold on the both of you for just a moment. 

Because you suddenly no longer feel anything but his touch. His gaze. His nearness.

You remove the shaky hand from your mouth and reach it out to him.

He wraps his fingers around your palm tenderly, carefully placing a simple, but beautiful diamond-studded engagement band on your ring finger.

Of course, you take a second to examine the ring... but your eyes slowly drift back to admire your real treasure.

Your eyes meet his again.

But this time, it’s not just your boyfriend.

This is your future husband.

And the pent-up energy is too much for Noya, so he moves on to what he does best:

He full-on tackles you in the biggest, most life-giving hug you’ve ever received.

You’re thrown back onto more blankets, your head guarded by his hand so it doesn’t touch the ground.

You’re both giggling and gasping for air from, the tears you just spilled leaving you breathless.

And you lay there, chest to chest, his head laying on your shoulder.

It takes a moment, but Nishinoya lets out one last sigh before shifting to lay down next to you.

In your eyes, he sees everything.

He sees endless opportunities. Countless journeys.

And he cannot wait to pursue all of it.

He does his best to express this with simple, but bold words,

“I can’t wait to explore every part of life with you.” His head tilting to face you, your fingers now interlocked with his.

Your heart is bursting, unable to contain the joy you’re experiencing…

Yet all you can say is, 

“Yes… me too, Noya. I love you so much.”

---

tags:  @cherryonigiri

[paradox-psyc-hoe-sis]

Remus Lupin dating a hufflepuff would include...

Remus lupin x hufflepuff!reader, the marauders x platonic reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no smut but talk of sexy times (sfw)

A/N: I'm back, babey! Recently took a smol hiatus but I'm back and better than ever. Here are some headcanons of what life would be like dating young Remus Lupin as a hufflepuff; I might do something similar with the different houses and the other marauders, but idk yet. As per usual, if you want a request then by all means shoot me a message! I write for the umbrella academy, marvel and Harry Potter so feel free to request anything :)) - Aphrodite

(Also I'm sorry I didn't spell check this, please forgive me)

• Every moment between you two was adorable!

• Being the semi-traditionalists that you were, it was a mutual agreement to take things slow and steady. But Remus was so infatuated with you - and you with him - that neither could deny the ever growing spark you shared.

• He'd always invite you on study dates in the library every Saturday, but most of the time it was just an excuse to see more of you.

• You'd always bring along a snack from the kitchens to the library, a different pastry or bake every week.

• "Guess who brought muffins!!!"

• When you aren't looking, he likes to leave cute messages on post it notes and hide them in your bag or throughout your books.

• "The only thing sweeter than those muffins is you, my love"

• You totally know when he does it, you've caught him a few times.

• However, you like to return the favour.

• "Maybe next time we 'study', you can let me Slytherin to your arms for cuddles"

• He loves the puns you make. Despite always being followed by an eye roll, he really does love them.

• He keeps all his notes from you in his bedside table and will read them after a particularly rough full moon 🥺

• Obviously, Remus was terrified to tell you his secret, but it went less dramatically than he thought it would.

• When you acted so truly selfless and reassured him that you'd be there for him no matter what, it really made him tear up. You promised to always be there after every full moon.

• You two can always be found cuddling in the gryffindor dormitories, 24/7.

• When you have a free period or a day free from studying, Remus will sneak you past the common room and into the dorms, where you'll just lay in his bed. All day.

• He's definitely the big spoon, he loves to hold you as tight as he can. But sometimes you'll lay your head on his chest, facing the ceiling, and he'll run his fingers through your hair.

• The boy is a human radiator, so you could practically hug him and his warmth all day long.

• One time you slept over with the rest of the marauders, and upon waking up, realised you had started your period. On Remus's sheets.

• "Hey, it's alright. I know this stuff happens, let's get you cleaned up."

• He was so mature about it all that you probably fell in love there and then.

• While you had a shower and changed the sheets, he went to Hogsmeade with James to get you some pads and snacks.

• Not needing a heating pad because he's just so damn warm gosh darn it

• While you and Remus were growing closer, you had an unexpected friendship with Sirius.

• I say unexpected, as when you first met you were positive he'd be trouble.

• "Moony, you never told me you were dating a hufflepuff! What a cute little cupcake she is." (Delivered with a wink)

• Let's just say, you may or may not have threatened to "shave off your pretty little locks if you call me a cupcake again."

• Although, this rivalry soon turned into friendship when you realised your senses of humour were identical.

• When Remus is busy and can't hang out with you, Sirius will take you to hogsmeade or play a game of chess to pass the time.

• Funnily enough, Sirius became oddly protective of you, letting Remus know that if he ever hurt you he'd be dead.

• Remus was always calling you a cute name, despite the circumstance.

• His favourite things to call you were babe, sweetheart, love, and snickerdoodle.

• You just stuck with calling him Remy, Moony, or honey (he'd never admit it, but he loves when you call him 'honeybuns')

• Remus is smart, and so are you. But when you're together, you share half a braincell.

• He's literally such a dumbass.

• "Babe, do you think toads can sense fear?"

• Cue you looking into the camera like Jim in the office.

• Whenever somebody tries to make any comments about Remus being a werewolf you are the first person to defend him.

• Nobody was afraid of you lashing out because you're "just a harmless hufflepuff". Their opinions changed when you punched a Slytherin prefect in the face for calling Remus a monster.

• At night, you'll both sneak out of the common rooms and meet in the kitchens for midnight snacks.

• You making some tea, and him eating some chocolate while talking to the house elves.

• You were always the best in your year at herbology, Remus however didn't stand a chance. He wasn't terrible at it, but certainly needed your help during lessons.

• "Y/n...what in God's name is that!?"

"...babe that's a celery."

• The summer between fourth and fifth year, he had the worlds biggest growth spurt.

• He was a little bit taller than you before, but when you returned to school for fifth year, he towered over you like a half-giant.

• This means that you could steal his fuzzy jumpers with them falling down to your knees.

• Sleepovers at the gryffindor dorms were a common occasion, but sometimes Remus would come to your common room late at night to have a dance party.

• Quietly playing the mixtape he made for you while you both danced around the area.

• You both had your first kiss towards the middle of fifth year, almost a year and a half after you first started dating.

• Remus came top of the class on an important DADA test. When he told you, you instinctively kissed him.

• You pulled away almost straight after, apologising for not asking for consent. Before you could say another word, he pulled you closer to him and placed another kiss on your lips, running a hand through the back of you hair.

• When you broke apart, you rested your forehead in the crook of his neck as he whispered in your ear.

• "I love you, y/n."

"I love you more, Remus."

• He wasn't really a big fan of PDA, but would happily do whatever you wanted.

• When the marauders were planning a prank, Remus made sure you were as far away from the action as possible.

• "What if we get y/n to be the bait? She could get-"

"James, there is no way y/n is going to jump into the great lake with weights ties to her ankles."

• You both did it for the first time near Christmas of sixth year.

• Peter was long gone home. James and Sirius had both left that morning to go back to the Potter's, offering you both a place to stay for the holidays. However, you were both happy to get some alone time.

• In the evening, he lit candles in the dorm and did cute stuff like that.

• He was so so nervous, but was still a gentlemen through and through, always asking if you're comfortable and making sure what he's doing is okay.

• It was really sweet, and both of you were really happy afterwards.

• Sometimes you'd share a bath with him in the prefects bathroom. The rest of the marauders always joked about how there'd be a bit more than bathing involved, but they were wrong.

• When you would share a bath, Remus would bring a book and read to you, doing silly voices for each of the characters just to see you smile. Neither of you ever did the Devil's Tango in the prefects bath, as it was always just for a nice relax.

• Speaking of books, Remus was always reading one. Sometimes you'd cuddle up next to him while he read, and he'd quietly read each line.

• Sometimes you'd do the same, reciting small poems from muggle books.

• He never told you, but after you had your first kiss his boggart changed. It changed from the moon to himself as a werewolf, holding your dead body.

• Gruesome, he knew, but it was significant to him.

• Along with his boggart changing, your patronus changed. In your third year you learned how to conjure a patronus, and yours was a porcupine. Yet in your sixth year, you discovered it to be a werewolf.

• Remus full on cried happy tears when he found out.

• After the worst full moon yet, Remus ended up in the hospital wing for 5 days. He was found unconscious, and woke up 2 days later to see you and Madam Pomfrey by his side.

• You took notes for him in class, brought him a few new books and bars of chocolate, and spent every free moment in the hospital wing with him.

• He had three long slashes across his face when you found him in the shrieking shack, yet he looked so calmly asleep.

• "When you told me you wanted to start having lie-ins, I didn't think you'd sleep for two days straight."

• You were the first person he wanted to see after such a terrible night, and despite your jokes, he was so grateful to have you next to him.

• "I hope you're not going to break up with me now that I'm ugly."

"You? Ugly? How could you ever think such a thing?"

• On valentines day, he enlisted the help of the marauders to make things perfect.

• After a date at Madam Puddifoots, you returned to Remus's dorm to a beautiful view.

• Fairy lights were strung along the bed frames, rose petals in a trail along the floor, your favourite scented candles burning on the bedside tables, and a teddy bear bigger than your entire body sat on Remus's bed.

• Turning around to face your boyfriend, you saw that he held 3 boxes wrapped in red paper.

• "Happy valentines day, m'love"

• Placing the gifts on the bed closest to him, he picked you up and wrapped you in a bear hug.

• You crocheted him a jumper in his house colours and got him a leather bound copy of his favourite book.

• He made you a bar of chocolate with your favourite flavours, bought you a chunky cardigan that he knew you wanted, and placed a painted, small wooden box in your hands.

• "Open the box, love." He stated with a smile. He seemed a little nervous, but eased up as he saw you smile.

• Inside the box was two aeroplane tickets to Paris.

• "It's not much, but I was wondering if you'd come with me this summer?"

• This was followed by a lot of happy screams, to say the least.

• When quidditch season came around, you both loved to support the other's house.

• You'd sport Remus's red and yellow jumpers when gryffindor was playing, and he would go all out with yellow and black spirit when it was a hufflepuff match.

• However, when it was hufflepuff against gryffindor things got way too competitive.

• You didn't speak to Remus for a week after gryffindor won.

• "Come on babe, just talk to me! I didn't mean it when I said that hufflepuffs are as good at quidditch as they are at their owls!"

• Professor Mcgonagall didn't really know much about you, being from a different house and all, but she saw how much Remus changed being with you.

• He seemed really well taken care of, and for once he was unconditionally happy.

• After dinner one night, Mcgonagall asked to see you in her office.

• "I just wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of Mr Lupin. It may be unprofessional for me to see him as a son, but I do, and I'm grateful that he has someone like you to support him."

• From that moment forward, she saw you as a daughter, and invited you to have tea with her every week.

• You didn't know it, but every full moon she'd add 50 points to hufflepuff, she could never thank you enough for looking after Remus.

• After you both graduated, you almost immediately moved in with each other.

• With the help of James and Lily, you bought a small cottage a few hours away from hogwarts.

• Every other wednesday, Sirius and Lily come around for a girls night while Remus and James catch up.

• A few months after you moved in together, Remus realised what he wanted, and for once he wasn't afraid to ask for it.

• It was a beautiful Saturday evening, the sky was purple from the sunset. Both of you were sat on the porch swing in your back garden, surrounded by magical plants and flowers, when he got down on one knee.

• "Y/n y/l/n, I've loved you since the day we met. I couldn't wish for anyone better than you, and it would be my dream to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

[hwalisa-twt]

| 𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙩 - 𝙃. 𝙃𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣 | part 02

┇ category : badboy!au, suggestive, ANGST!

┇ warning : mention of drinking !

┇ word count : 2.4K

┇ synopsis : After Hyunjin made you his new girlfriend new challenges are coming, such as helping Hyunjin to open up to you about his feelings and his struggles.

| Stray Kids Masterlist | Part 01 • Part 02 (End) |

The sun was setting on the city and the houses were slowly lighting their lights to glow their interior a bit more. In Hyunjin’s bedroom at the 1st floor of his house, a ray of sunshine was kissing his face, enlightening his beautiful chocolate eyes. Seated on his lap and on his bed, my hands in his hair I was softly twisting my fingers through his brown curls at the back of his neck. He was kissing languidly, gently nipping at my bottom lips. His hands were pushing my hips down to show me he was taking over. Whenever I wanted to be a bit more enterprising, I felt him smile through the kiss. He found it cute because he knew I couldn’t resist him. I ran out of breath and take a step back and he kissed my cheek. I looked into his eyes lovingly and whispered, “I love you”. He stared at me and smacked my lips.

As I was stroking his cheeks I asked, “Babe, what do you want to do tomorrow?”. Tomorrow was a special day, his birthday. He never truly celebrated it, he told me he hated it. But at least I wanted to do something special for him. Hyunjin looked down and said, “Oh, my birthday right…y/n I don’t want a party or something that looks like a party and you know it…why do you keep asking me?”. His words were harsh, but I couldn’t complain I felt like something was buried deep down, but I didn’t know what. “Hyunjin, please look at me…”. I pushed his chin up so I could try and read him through his eyes. “I’m not saying we should party, but I’m suggesting maybe we can walk together and go to a park or something and at night we can reach for the boys and go hang out somewhere? Just you, me and your friends, does it sound nice?”. His eyes were a bit glossy and I couldn’t understand why, but he smiled fondly and nodded, “Ok, let’s do that, it sounds nice”.

It was 10p.m and it was time for me to go home. Hyunjin proposed to bring me home but I said I was okay that it wasn’t far away. So, under the porch of his house we kissed and he hugged me tight. I faintly heard a ‘Thank you’ but I didn’t question him about it. I waved goodbye and I started walking to my house.

On my way I texted Chan, I asked him if he could tell the boys about tomorrow tonight and if he could find a place to go all together. At last, I told him that I needed to talk to him about Hyunjin, he proposed to meet at the playground beside my house in 10min, just enough time for me to go home.

After I met Hyunjin he introduced me to his group of friends who gathers 7 friends: Bang Chan, Minho, Changbin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin. He once told me that Chan brought them at kindergarten and proposed to form that group of friends that are unbreakable since then. In two months, I had time to become close to Chan, he was sweet and like a brother to me. If Hyunjin and I struggled a bit, he would help me with that because he knew Hyunjin so well. And even if it wasn’t about Hyunjin, I knew I could turn my back to Chan whenever I needed him.

Once I arrived, I found him sited on of one of the swings eating an ice cream. “Chan what are you doing, eating an ice cream at 10p.m?”, I laughed and so did he. I sat on the other swing and I waited, listening to the night, the locusts singing and the trees dancing to the wind. He broke the silence, “y/n…what did you want to ask me about? Are there any problems with Hyunjin?”. I stared at him, he was genuinely concerned about me, and I was truly thankful to him for that. “Hum…you know tomorrow it’s his birthday…and I asked him if he wanted to do something, not obviously a party but just hanging out…and he seemed…elsewhere, almost sad…I wanted to know if you knew anything about it? Did something happen back then?”.

A blank. He looked at me dazzled. Did he know? He stood up from the swing and went to sit down in front of me. “y/n…I’m surprised Hyunjin hasn’t tell you about it yet…I don’t know if I should though…but I guess he won’t be angry about it…I hope…”. I felt anxious, this seemed like something important for Hyunjin that only the boys knew about, and I didn’t know why he hasn’t said it to me yet. Chan continued to speak.

“Okay, so when Hyunjin was 9 years old I think he lived with both of his parents. But I remember him telling me about the fights they were constantly having…of course he was too young to know about their struggles, but he knew something was wrong. On his 10th birthday, when he woke up their parents were restless, his dad kept on grumbling and his mom was in their bathroom. The door was locked. So, he stayed in his bedroom but around diner time he heard them fighting again and he went to see what was happening. His mom was gathering her clothes in a suitcase, she was in tear. Hyunjin saw her mom started to leave the house and he ran after her, trying to make her stay. He didn’t succeed, his last words were “I love you” but she left nevertheless…”, he started at the sky and continued “since that day, he doesn’t like celebrating his birthday and he try to never think about it”.

I was crying. A tear ran down my cheek and fell onto my knee. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know he went through this at such a young age. I’m happy he found the boys. I saw Chan staring at me, I wiped my tears away. “You shouldn’t be crying y/n, Hyunjin wouldn’t want that right now”. I know he was right. “I know but I love him…it hurts…”. He went behind me and hugged me, “Once you told me he never really said “I love you” right? Do you understand better now?”. I nodded. I knew I couldn’t erase the past but maybe I could bright up his birthday now that I’m here.

If I wanted to be up early by tomorrow, I needed to go to sleep. “Chan, thank you so much for tonight, you’re always here when I need you…you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, have a good night!”. I hugged him and we parted ways.

9 a.m. First things first, a birthday message to Hyunjin. Then a shower, a pretty outfit and I’m leaving for Hyunjin’s house. When I arrived, he was already waiting for me, I kissed him deeply and said, “Happy birthday my love, this is where your day begin try to enjoy okay?”, he nodded and smiled knowing it would be a bad idea to go against my plan. First stop of the day, the park. We walked along the paths and stopped by a truck who were selling ice cream. We bought two, one with the flavour chocolate and the other one with vanilla. We stopped by a bench to eat them.

I close my eyes, to let the sun sink in. The sun was delightful, and the fresh wind of March was waking me up. I opened my eyes to see Hyunjin staring at me, “What?”, he laughed, “You so pretty, I’m so happy to be here with you”. You bit your bottom lips, you didn’t know what to say, you felt so shy almost embarrassed when he was telling those kinds of words. You always were a little self-conscious but Hyunjin had a thing to make your feel pretty. “Thanks Hyunjin, you look quite good yourself actually”, and you both laughed, so much that some people who were passing by stared at the both of you. You had an idea, “Okay Hyunjin, so today is your birthday right. What if you had three wishes you could use, what would that be?”. He studied your face and he thought about it, “I wish….I met you earlier, I wish…I could know if you will be with me forever and I wish…I never had this smoking habits”. You were puzzled by his answers, and you excepted that he would have opened to you about his mom. “Okay, are they really your wishes? Ok then…, let’s continue walking”.

You were talking to him when you sensed you were walking alone, you looked back and saw Hyunjin behind you, frozen. “Hyunjin? What’s happening?”, he didn’t respond, he was looking away. You decided to look in that direction when you saw what he was looking at, or who he was looking at. A woman, middle aged, long jet-black hair, wearing a simple jean and a blue cardigan, with a man and two kids by her sides. Putting the keys together you understood that she might be her mom. You went back to Hyunjin and you heard him whispering nonsense, “that…that can be her…n-no…she shouldn’t be here…”, he was walking at the opposite faster. You ran after him calling his name, but he couldn’t hear you, “Hyunjin! Hyunjin please stop!!”, and you grabbed his wrist, he stopped walking. “Hyunjin, look at me please tell me something”, he looked lost, like a little boy looking desperately for help, “y/n…I-”. You didn’t want to push him farther, you took his face between your hands and focused on his eyes to catch his attention, “Hyunjin, okay, listen to me, let’s go to your house okay? Let’s watch a movie, what do you think?”, he hugged you and he nodded.

You both arrived at his house, hands in hands. A little package caught your attention at the front of the door, you took a step closer and you found a gift. A birthday gift, “To Hyunjin”. You watched Hyunjin carefully beside you and you handed him the package, “You do what you want but… I advise you to open it…if that’s okay of course…”. He looked okay with the idea. You both sat on the 1st stair, and you didn’t speak you were just here for him. He opened it and there was a box, a music box, he made it work and it played. The music was beautiful, slow but so pretty and melancholic. I didn’t know I was crying until my vision got blurred. Hyunjin opened the little drawer at the bottom of the music box and a simple paper was there with four words written: I love you too. And he broke down, crying hard. I hugged him so hard, it hurts so much so see him like this, on his birthday… we stayed like this until he was feeling at least a bit better and we went inside to drink something warm.

It was late afternoon when I asked him if he still were okay with going outside and he told me he was okay, which I knew he didn’t. We entered with the boys the Black Box, the most popular bar/club in town. I told Chan about what happened, so he knew about Hyunjin mental state right now. The night went on and we drank some beverages but Hyunjin was drinking too much. He took me to the dancefloor. The beat was drumming into my ears, rocking my body through the crowd. Hyunjin was behind me, grinding on me. I turned around to face him and we dance bodies glued together. He started kissing me feverishly, he went down my neck to kiss behind my ears, he applied a bit more pressure and he sucked this point right here. The point that makes your legs go weak and heart beating faster. He whispered something. He whispered to me, but I couldn’t hear him, “Hyunjin! What did you say?”, and he repeated it louder, “I’m feeling sick… I think…”. He started to hiccup, and I knew it was sooner or later. He ran to the bathroom door and throw out. I was concerned, I texted Chan about his state and told him we were heading outside, to get some fresh air. “Hyunjin, come with me we’re going outside”.

After 15 mins of walking I stopped him and I starred at him, worried, “Hyunjin, why are you like this?”. He paused and turned his back to me, “It’s nothing y/n… I swear…”. I walked in front of him preoccupied, “No it’s not Hyunjin, look you got drunk to the point of throwing out, why? Is it because of this woman in the park? And the gift at your door? Was it from your mom? Was it her?”. You knew you said too much because he looked at your bewildered, “How do you know? Who told you about this?”. That wasn’t the point, “Hyunjin that doesn’t matter, but you need to speak to me, I’m here for you…you know that…”. He looked angry, “YES! Yes, it was my mom standing right here with another man and two other children! Yes, it was her gift! A gift she never dared to give me until today! And I’m still trying to figure out why SHE LEFT ME the day of my BIRTHDAY!”. He stumbled to the floor crying hard, I crouched down, “Hyunjin, listen I don’t have an answer to that but I do know that today you have 7 amazing friends who are always there for you and…you have me, you can tell me everything, I will never tell you who to be or who to become. Don’t let your past define who you are today, cause today I have a perfect boyfriend I love with whole my heart, and I’m not here because of your past, I’m here because you are who and that matters the most. I love you Hyunjin, I love you so much you can’t even imagine”. I kissed him lovingly, trying to put as much feelings as I could into this kiss. Hyunjin took a step back first and looked me deeply in the eyes, “Thank you for being here…I know I never truly said it to you before, and I’m fucking sorry for this cause you don’t deserve that but…y/n I love you, I fucking love you”.

| Stray Kids Masterlist | Part 01 • Part 02 (End) |

[hms-chill]

Sanctuary

Summary: In a quiet moment, Henry and Bea reflect on her addiction, its lasting effects, and the night he found her outside a London club. Lots of tears, hugs, and those good sibling vibes, complete with the reassurance that they've always got each other's backs.

Trigger warnings for references of past drug use/abuse

Henry loves days like this. He and Bea haven’t had enough time together recently, but today, their outdoor event has been tragically rained out, so they’ve sequestered themselves in the music room. Henry’s brought a book of Byron, and he’s already planning to read especially good bits aloud. Bea’s got a cross-stitch project, since, in her own words, she ‘felt stabby’. His legs are draped across her lap, and she’ll occasionally rub his knee, humming at a particularly good line. He’s just finished reading a bit as he looks up to watch her tie off a thread, then she looks around and sighs.

“Fuck, I left my threader in the other room. If you move your legs, I can—“

“Let me,” Henry says, and she smiles. She passes over the needle and thread, wiggling her fingers a bit to stretch them. It takes him a bit, his eyes crossing as he focuses on it. When it’s threaded, he hands it over with a smile and looks back to his book. Bea turns to her project again with a “thank you”, and Henry reads out a couplet before he looks up to watch her hands. She seems alright, at least as far as he can tell.

He’s sort of generally known that the cocaine affected her fine motor skills. Before she got help, they didn’t see much of each other, but once, they’d been forced to go to the same banquet. She’d come to find him as they were getting ready, and he’d been so happy to see her that he almost didn’t notice the way her eyes didn’t quite focus or the fact that she barely said hello as she stepped into his room. He’d thought maybe she was there to talk, to finally admit she needed something, anything, but instead, she’d just pulled off a cardigan and asked him to zip her up. He remembers standing there, trying to process the way her spine stood out, as she fumbled along the back of the dress. He distinctly remembers thinking that she should have been fine. He’d watched her hand find the zipper pull, but she couldn’t seem to hold it.

He’d zipped her up, and helped her put the cardigan back on, and she’d left. At the banquet that night, she’d been wearing too much clumsy eye makeup, and she might have dropped a fork before she snuck out early, leaving Henry to pretend he didn’t know what she was doing. Philip had come home the next day, and he’s not sure how much she remembers of that particular night. She’d gotten most of her fine motor skills back with therapy, and Henry’d sort of assumed that was the end of it. But suddenly, he wonders if it really was.

He’d known she bought a packet of needle threaders a few weeks after she got home from rehab. She’s used post-it tabs to help her turn pages in speeches recently. A few days ago, she’d been filling a teabag and had spilled, scattering leaves across the counter.

“Bea?” He asks after a minute, and she hums, still focused on her cross stitch. Henry’s pretty sure it’s going to say ‘fuck’, which makes him smile. “Do... if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay, but do you still... I know you keep your sobriety chip handy and don’t drink so you don’t... and I know you’ve joked about it, but do you ever want to...”

“I do.” She’s still focused on the cloth in front of her, but her hands are still. “I... I mean, I don’t want to use, not... but it’s always sort of there. Maybe not always, not times like this. But when things get stressful, or when we’re in a club sometimes. When it would be easy, it would seem like an easy way out, to just... have everything stop for a while. But I’m fine; you don’t have to worry.”

Henry watches her face as he asks his next question, trying to judge from the set of her mouth if he’s getting too close. They have the same tells; their mouths pinch in the same place when they’re uncomfortable. Looking back at their dad’s work, they probably both got it from him. “Do... we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but are there other side effects that still bother you? I looked them all up when you went to rehab, but I don’t think we ever talked about them.”

She’s still for a moment, then she sets down her hoop, one hand coming to hold Henry’s tightly. Henry just holds onto her and waits, watching her cycle through barely-noticeable stages of uncertainty before she says, “It’s... I still get the cravings. And it... I mean internally, I’m all fucked up. My heart, my gut, it... it’s all a mess in there. But other than that, I’m alright.”

“You’re sure? I just... I want to be able to help you. If I can. I don’t know, but if there’s anything like that I can do, I want to.”

Bea moves her project aside and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrap around her automatically, even as he wishes he could still see her face. He’s not sure how she’s feeling; not sure if she’s being honest or just trying to get him to relax when she says, “You don’t need to worry about me, Hen. I’m just fine.”

“I’ll... I think I’ll sort of always worry about you,” he tells her shoulder. Her hold tightens on him, but he forges on before he can let himself think that maybe he’s making her feel guilty. Maybe he should lie to her just to make sure she doesn’t feel bad for talking to him about any of this. Maybe lying would make her feel better, but they’ve promised not to lie to each other or shut each other out, not anymore. If he tells her he’s not worried, it’ll be the first step down a path he doesn’t want anything to do with, so he forges ahead. “But I’m serious; if you want to tell me, maybe I can help somehow.”

She’s quiet for a bit, petting his hair as the rain taps against the window behind them. Henry's suddenly glad they're having this conversation here, rather than in any of the big, impersonal rooms in their suite. Eventually, she says, “I... I can’t always... delayed gratification is hard. It... for so long, I’d just... I’d want to feel better and I would. Just like that. And it didn’t really matter for a while, but now that I’ve got the charity, and there are so many choices and things there that take time, and it... do you think maybe we could find something you could do there?”

“I’m sure we can find something. Maybe I can... I don’t know; we could talk through some of the more long-term decisions? And I could help you think through things a bit? Not make them for you, but just... help lay things out?”

“I’d like that,” Bea says. She lets him go, but she doesn’t pick up her embroidery hoop again. Henry watches her carefully as she rests both hands on his legs, which are still draped across her lap. After a long minute, she doesn’t look up at him, but she says, “If... you don’t have to, but if I’m completely honest, I don’t... that night you came and found me, I... I don’t think I remember everything. I remember... I remember leaving rehab, thinking that if Philip and Gran were upset then I must have been doing something right. And I remember getting into the club, but after... after I started smoking it’s... it’s all sort of hazy until you were crying. I remember you being upset, and afraid; I think that’s sort of what shook me out of it. You were afraid, and you’d said you were gay. But it’s... before that, it’s a bit of a haze.”

“Oh. Well, I... I don’t know all of it, obviously, but I can... I’ll tell you what I know?” Bea nods, still not really looking at him. She’s chewing her lip, and she’s going to hurt herself, but this isn’t a moment for him to tell her how to cope. “I... we found out when you left rehab; they called us here. Philip was... upset, so I... I was up here when you called me, mostly to be away from him. It was loud; I couldn’t hear much, but you... you were crying. So I got your phone’s location, and I... this is probably stupid, but I think I just went. It’s… It’s all sort of just a haze of worry from there; I was so scared you’d change your mind and wouldn’t let me help. I remember talking to you, trying to tell you to go outside so I could hear you, and a few minutes after you did the call just… dropped. I think your phone died or something, but I was so scared I’d done something wrong I couldn’t focus on much else. I know Shaan was with me; someone else drove and I can’t imagine I’d have asked anyone else.” He goes quiet for a bit, trying to figure out how much of the next bit she needs to know.

Does she need to know that when she saw him, round the corner and come into the alleyway at the back of the club, she’d struggled to get up to meet him? Does she need to know how sharp her ribs felt when he hugged her, or how her shoulder stabbed into his when they sat back down and she leaned against him? Should he tell her that she’d still been smoking, and he has a tiny scar on his wrist from where he’d been burned as he took the drugs away from her?

“I, um, I... found you,” he says eventually. “You were... you were in a sort of alleyway behind the club, sitting on the steps. And I... I sat beside you, and I just cried. I don’t... I’m not sure I’d cried since the funeral, but I was so scared. I didn’t know what was going to happen, to you or me or any of us. You were talking about how Philip and Gran were conspiring against you, trying to lock you away in a hospital when you didn’t need any help. I just... I don’t remember what I said, not exactly. Something about how you weren’t eating and you weren’t talking to me. I... I used to text you every day.” He’s getting choked up, his eyes fixating on where Bea’s hands rest on his legs. “I used to text you from school every day, and you never answered. So I think... I think I told you that, about how hard I’d been trying. And that didn’t work, at least not really; you were quiet but it wasn’t... you weren’t there. I don’t know how to describe it, but I knew it... that’s when I told you I was gay. I made you look at me, and I made you promise not to tell anyone, and then I said you couldn’t die because I was gay and you were all I had left.

“After that, it... I think you cried, too. You said you weren’t going to leave me, and you hugged me.” He remembers that hug as much as anything; remembers how fragile Bea felt in his arms, how she’d been shaking but had hugged him tightly anyway. “We got you into the car, and Shaan must have driven us home. I just remember holding onto you; I was... I was so scared you were going to make a break for it. We tried to sneak in, but you... you weren’t the steadiest on your feet.”

“I knocked over a... a painting, right? Knocked it off a wall? The frame broke; there’s a scar on my shin from where a piece hit me when it fell.”

“It was so loud,” Henry says, finally looking at her with a wry smile. “But it... it felt like we were kids again. We had our shoes off, and we got up here as fast as we could. You... we both fell asleep in here that night. It was the only place I could think of that felt… I don’t know, safe somehow.”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Bea says, nodding. “I... I thought if I didn’t have you to remind me, I might try and sneak out again. You made me take the couch, and then you slept on the floor next to me so I couldn’t get out without waking you.”

Henry nods, not sure what else to say for a moment. Eventually, he says, “You texted me from rehab the next day. I don’t... you weren’t supposed to have a phone, so I don’t know how you did it, but I got it while I was on my way back to school and it made me so happy I cried.”

“I think I might have bribed a nurse. Her kid really loved princesses, and I might have pulled some strings. It’s all a bit hazy,” she says with a wink, and Henry laughs, hugging her again.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I... I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“And I couldn’t have done any of the rest of it without you.”

On AO3

You ever just have a lot of feelings about Bea? And about how she very well could have lost the fine motor skills necessary to play the guitar? And then you get really emotional about it? Me neither

-

Want to support the Hannah Makes Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 3: Gotten Lucky

Touya awoke with the sunrise, as he often did. He groaned as the spears of light flowing through the moth-eaten curtains played over his face, eyes fluttered as they tried to adjust to the sun. He leaned over the arm of the couch, inadvertently pushing the throw pillow to the ground, to see the light puddling across the dusty wood like slowly-spreading spilled milk. His back cracked as he arched it, and then he flopped back down against the couch, running his hand over his face. When he pulled it away, he found a smear of blood across his index finger that he’d apparently missed when showering last night. 

He’d given Moe the one bed in the apartment, because he wasn’t a dick. She’d passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, filling his bedroom with quiet, peaceful snores. As he stood over her, marveling at how young and innocent she looked while she slept, he wondered yet again how she’d ended up beaten and bloodied in an alleyway. It was a question only she could answer, and if Touya had learned anything in his years on the streets, it was that you didn’t exactly gain much information trying to force people to talk. 

He’d just have to wait and see, if she stuck around long enough. 

Touya scrolled through the news feed on his phone, then, after finding nothing of interest, tossed it on the coffee table and reclined his arms behind his head. Damn, that was a sweet ass Porsche. That dickwad definitely didn’t deserve it, nor the drunk honeys he was sweet-talking into it. Touya’s mouth soured at the thought of how much money he could have made off the car. The worst part wasn’t the loss, really, it was that with Moe here, he couldn’t go out and make up for it. There was no way he was leaving a stranger alone in his apartment unsupervised, especially one with some sketchy past. 

Ugh. I don’t want to have to borrow money from Tomura again, he thought with disgust. There was no telling the amount of interest he would charge, and Touya hated being in the guy’s debt. Last time, he’d made him transport something he was ninety percent sure was a dead body, and Touya wasn’t keen on repeating the most stressful two hours of his life. Unfortunately, the creep was pretty well-off, probably from pawning all the shit he nabbed off dead people. 

Touya had some questionable acquaintances, okay? That shit came with being a deadbeat. 

Touya looked up when he heard the tentative pitter-patter of feet. Moe came creeping down the hallway, looking furtively around the room, but she couldn’t see that Touya was awake from her vantage point. He remained still, a smirk playing over his lips. After a second, the girl tip-toed across the room into the kitchen, disappearing from sight. As quietly as he could, Touya slowly sat up to peer over the back of the couch, where he found her sitting on her knees on his counter to rummage through his cabinets. 

“Yellow polka-dot panties? Cute,” he called, and Moe nearly fell off the counter in surprise. Scowling over her shoulder at him, she jerked the back of the tee-shirt over her rump, holding it there with one hand while she continued to rifle through his stores. Touya just crossed his arms over the back of the couch and watched her, amused. She’s a little feistier today.

“How do you live like this?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in defeat when she found nothing to suit her tastes. “You don’t have shit.” 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, honey.” 

“Well, it looks like you didn’t choose anything,” she countered, turning to hop off the counter. The tee-shirt swished around her legs as she stomped towards him, stopping at the back of the couch to glare at him with her hands pushed primly into her hips. “I’m starving! Don’t you have anything to eat?” 

“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do my grocery run because I was tending to your sweet ass,” he replied matter-of-factly, and her cheeks darkened, probably with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking away with a dour pout. Touya languidly rose from the couch, flicking a bit of her blonde hair from her face and causing Moe to gasp in affront. “Don’t be mad, sweets,” he purred. “Let me getcha somethin’ halfway-decent to wear, and then we’ll go out and get some food, okay?” 

“And just where am I supposed to get clothes?” she shouted after him as he walked to his door, and he just gave her a dismissive wave before stepping out. He walked across the hall and knocked on his neighbor’s door, and he wasn’t two raps of his knuckles in before Himiko was swinging it open, causing him to nearly knock on his forehead. 

“Hiya, neighbor! What can I do ya for?” she grinned brightly, and she could almost be mistaken for a cute, nice next-door neighbor if Touya didn’t know that she practiced arcane rituals and summoning spells on the weekends. To each their own, he always said, and Himiko always assured him that no bad spirits would find their way into his apartment. 

“Hey, Himiko. I got a lady friend who’s in need of some clothes.” 

With wide eyes, Himiko peered around his tall, lanky form to find Moe standing in the doorway, blushing while she fisted the hem of the tee-shirt. Himiko gave him a sly look, and with a blush, he hurriedly lied, “Look, she lost her luggage at the airport and I had to make do. Until they find it, she’s shit out of luck and I don’t got the money for a shoppin’ spree, so can you just loan her a few outfits for the time being?” 

Either Himiko bought the fib, or she wasn’t in the mood to pry for once. Dabi didn’t care as long as she didn’t look at him like he had just gotten lucky with Moe. 

“Sure thing, Dabi, dear <3 I just so happen to have a bag of goodies I was about to give to donation. She can help herself!~” Himiko grabbed a garbage bag from the entryway and passed it to him, and he grunted a “thanks” while he turned to pass it to Moe. Himiko giggled and blew them a kiss before flouncing back into her apartment, and Touya planked against the opposite wall with a groan. Even just a five-minute conversation with the girl was exhausting. 

“She’s a bit weird, but she has good fashion sense,” Moe commented, and he peered through his bangs to see her holding up a tube top. “Lost luggage, huh?” she then sneered, and Touya scowled. “How long do you think that cover story will hold up?” 

“Long enough. Now get dressed, I thought you were starving?” 

Her stomach growling answered that question and sent her skittering back into the apartment with a shy squeal. Touya remained outside, smiling despite it all. At least she livened up the place. 

There was a spring in Moe’s step as they walked out of the apartment together. A pair of dark blue skinnies hugged her legs, and her white cardigan ruffled in the breeze, along with her hair, which was piled into a bun atop her head. She flitted about, commenting about how nice the sunshine was, while Touya just strode along behind her in silence. It was nice to see her in good spirits, at least, but it was a little migraine-inducing for her to be so cheery at eight in the morning. He needed at least another four hours before he was ready to consort with such an optimist. 

They walked to the supermarket, and Moe’s demeanor instantly underwent a change. As they strolled through the aisles piling TV dinners, chips, cereal, and other things into the cart, she clung to Touya like glue. Literally, she had her hands curled into the back of his shirt while she peered around him, hiding behind his frame whenever somebody walked by. It was pretty obvious that Moe didn’t want to be seen, but by whom? Well, probably whoever beat her ass in the alley and anyone associated with them. 

Sensing her anxieties growing, Touya shoved a lollipop in her face. 

“Eh?” she blinked, looking up at him in confusion. 

“Stop worryin’,” he huffed. “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you while you’re with me.” She blinked, then smiled shyly, her posture melting like butter in a pan. She popped the plastic off the lollipop, keeping it so the cashier could scan it when they finished, and began sucking on it happily. Just like a kid, Touya thought, but more endearingly than irritatedly. She even climbed in the basket, sitting among the food items sucking her lollipop and demanding to be wheeled around. 

Touya wasn’t sure why it was so easy to give into her childish demands. Perhaps it was her smile, the first genuine smile he’d seen grace her lips since he’d come across her in the alleyway, as she stuck out her arms while he pushed her around the supermarket. 

Once they’d gotten home with their haul, Moe smashed two bowls of cereal before crashing on his couch, laying on her belly with her heels kicked up over her back. Bored, Touya booted up his old Nintendo to play Super Mario World, and Moe watched him for about half an hour before piping up. 

“So what’s your story, Dabi?” 

Without looking away from the screen, Touya offered her a smirk. 

“We all got secrets, toots, and my ‘story’ is one of them,” he quipped. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her lay her cheek on her arms, her expression thoughtful while she watched the pixelated Mario run around the screen stomping Goombas. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend.” 

“You didn’t,” he reassured her, moving the character with one hand while he leaned down to grab a beer from his cooler. He popped it open and took a swig, then continued, “Don’t sweat it.” 

“Mm,” was all she said, and they fell back into silence, the only noises being the clacks of the controller and the audio of the videogame. She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but he did just meet her, after all. Maybe she’d stick around, and maybe she’d catch him in a divulging mood one day. But today was not one of those days; today was one of those days where Touya pretended his life wasn’t the shit pile it was and he beat the only game he owned for the hundredth time. 

“Hey, um,” she spoke up again sometime later, and from her tone of voice, he thought she was going to apologize again. He turned around, mouth open to tell her not to worry about it, but she cut him off with a shy, “Thank you.” He clamped his mouth shut, the viable skin on his face turning a bit pink. “I never thanked you, you know, for saving me.” Her red-orange eyes stared at the floor as she traced patterns into the dust. “So… Thank you. I’m sure it was a pain.” 

He blinked, then smiled wanly. 

“Most things in life are, toots. You just gotta roll with it.” She looked up at that, smiling slightly, and he gave her a kind look. “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t been a dick move for me to leave you like that. Contrary to what I look like, I’m not a monster.” She laughed, genuinely, and it made him feel kind of floaty and light inside, like maybe things weren’t all bad. 

Maybe he’d gotten lucky with this girl after all, fluttering into his life like a butterfly on the breeze. He supposed he’d just have to stick with her and find out.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[pokeheadcannons97]

Due to now knowing rules, can I request bede with a s/o who has a (f) meowstic not liking the relationship, and constantly getting in the way? Please and thank you!

I’m so sorry this took so long!!!! I really loved this ask! Thank you!!!!! 

               Bede had been overjoyed to receive your invitation of a day together in Circhester. The weather forecasted clear skies with a chance of seeing the aurora in the later hours of the night. He had a full itinerary of the places where the two of you should head to, to full enjoy your rare uninterrupted day together.

               You had been busy with studies at your local college, completely swamped with schoolwork from the full sets of classes that you were currently taking. When you had a day off, he was busy with the onset of challengers at the gym. When he had a day off, you were occupied with homework and studying. Both of you had responsibilities that you couldn’t stray away from, so when the two of you both had a day off that lined up together, you decided to make the most of it.

               Bede had arrived at the meeting spot early, he glanced up at the park clock which read a quarter to ten. The snow piled on the top of it as it ticked away quietly in the rush of cars and people in downtown Circhester.

               He spotted a flower shoppe a few buildings down, an idea popping into his head.

—–

He handed the money to clerk as he told him which kinds of flowers to put into the bundle. Once picked and arranged he then chose a f/c ribbon to tie around in a large bow around the stems.

He carefully took the arrangement into his hands. “These look absolutely splendid, thank you.” He told the older shop owner who gave him a warm smile in return.

 “Anytime kiddo, it’s not everyday that I get to work on an arrangement for a gym leader.” He replied with a hearty chuckle, wiping the trimmings into a waste basket below. “Let alone for one that’s going on a date.”

 The blond blinked rapidly, his grasp on the flowers growing tighter.  “Who said anything about it being a date?”

The man let out another chuckle, louder this time. “Oh please son, I’ve been in this business for many years, I know what a fella that’s about to go on a date looks like. You may be a gym leader but you’re still a youngin. Your face is about as red as these roses over here.” He gestured to the big, uncut rose stems he was lining up on his worktable.

Bede was about to protest about how rude it was to assume things when the owner spoke up again. “If you want to have a good look at the aurora tonight, I’d suggest heading up towards the gym. With you being a gym leader, Melony should be able to let you two watch from the roof on top there.” He gave the young boy a wink. “Just a suggestion from an old geezer like me.”

The boy looked down at the bouquet in his hands, then back up to the shop owner. He gave a slight swallow as he tried to make the redness of his cheeks go down. “I’ll see about it, thank you for the advice.” He raised the flowers up a little. “And the arrangement, I’m sure they’ll love it.”

The man gave a light hum in approval. “Take care kiddo.”

Bede walked back to the meet up spot, his pink boots crunching the freshly fallen snow below. It was embarrassing to be so easily read by a stranger. He was usually so used to having the upper hand, to have control of the situation… except when it came to you. You made him a mess, and only you could. Why else would he get these flowers fo-?

“Beeeeeeedeeeee!!”

He looked up from his embarrassing thoughts to see you running from the station over towards him. Your hair was in all sorts of disarray as it stuck out in multiple places under your toboggin.

“You’re here early! If I would��ve known that, I’d catch the earlier train!” You told him while catching your breathe.

Bede gave a light chuckle, and genuine smile. He tucked the unruly strands back into place, fixing your scarf in the process. “Then there wouldn’t be a need for a meet up time, besides, I didn’t wait that long.” He placed the flowers out into your hands. “I used that time wisely though, no need to worry.”

You gave a loud gasp, your cheeks flooding with color. “Bedey! You shouldn’t have!” You marveled at the arrangement in your hands, smoothing a finger over the big bow. “These are gorgeous! And you even got my favorite!”

You leaned forward to give him a sweet kiss on his lips, your other hand that wasn’t holding the arrangement found it’s way to his cheek. “You’re the sweetest ever, thank you.”

Bede’s face flushed himself, but the smile remained on his lips, nonetheless. “I’m glad you like them.” He was about to lean in for another kiss when he felt something nudging in between the two of you.

He looked down and his face immediately fell. “Ah…hello Mochi.”

Mochi was your Meowstic, quite a docile natured female Meowstic usually. She had been your partner Pokemon since you were in middle school. The two of you went everywhere together, and she rarely left your side. Even for such intimate things as a date, much to Bede’s displeasure.

“Mochi! I thought you wanted to nap in your pokeball, silly girl!” You tutted at her, crouching down to your knees to give her head a firm pat, smoothing out the glossy fur.

Mochi leaned her head into your hand a mewed lovingly, her tail swishing back and forth. “Meeeeowwws~”

Bede also reached down to give her a pet, but she stopped him with one of her ears, and eyed him with distain.

“Alright alright, I know they give the best pets anyways.” Bede replied and retracted his hand. “So, do you wanna head out to that café?”

You gave him an excited nod. “Yes! I’m starving!” Your Meowstic purred in agreement, wrapping her tail around your leg. “Maybe they have some sweets that you’ll like Mochi.” You beamed at the psychic pokemon.

‘Wonderful…’ The gym leader though, stuffing a hand into his pocket, and smoothing his curls out with his other. ‘A plus one that absolutely loathes me.’

The day went by exactly as Bede had thought it would, after the new addition.

At the café while the two of you were eating your lunch, Mochi had levitated the spoon out of Bede’s mouth and plopped it down into his bowl of tomato bisque. Which in turn splattered rich red tomato stains all over his cardigan that he just had dry cleaned.

At the theatre, when he had grabbed your hand thinking it was yours, it was in fact Mochi’s who had taken your lap as her seat and swatted at him every time he even attempted to touch you. Eating all the popcorn that he had bought for the two of you. When he had leaned in for a kiss, he was met with a powerful scratch from a shadow claw.

During shopping at the local clothing shoppe, by some odd twist of fate the store was out of all outfits that Bede had taken a liking to, that were in his size. The store owner was even more so confused and repeatedly apologized to Bede and swearing up and down he would figure out why.

The clothes were found in the shoppe’s employees bathroom, tore to literal shreds. You two never went back. 

By the time night had fallen, Bede was beyond exhausted. At every turn and attempt that he had made to be close to you, Mochi had intervened.

She even hacked up a hairball while you two were holding hands on your walk by the water outside of town. Smirking towards Bede as you coddled her and were patting her back.

The two of you had arrived at the gym, snacks and drinks bought before hand to make it more of a leisurely picnic while watching the aurora on top of the gym at the shop owners’ suggestion.

Melony was more than happy to let the two of you use the roof of her gym for your date. Giving you a big warm hug in the process and fixing your hair back into place like a mother would do. She even suggested to use the gym challenge as a sort of couple’s activity.

While Bede insisted that was a bad idea, you were all up for it. Practically grabbing the tongs out of Melony’s hands in excitement.

Bede glanced towards Mochi who sneered at him with her arms crossed, tail swishing back and forth. He gave a sigh, his shoulder’s slumping in tandem. “Let’s do it…”

—-

The three of you cleared the first two levels with ease, you clapping your hands together in happiness and exclaimed loudly. “This was such a good idea! We haven’t even fell once!”

Meowstic mewed loudly with you, raising her hands in the air, sharing your excitement.

Bede watched in amusement and tugged his scarf closer to his body. It was rather easy to clear these levels with Meowstic’s superb sense of hearing. She had maneuvered the three of them through each hidden pitfall carefully. Not allowing any harm to come to you, or him.

Though he knew that if she had her way, he would be underneath the ice time after time.

You marched forward with her to begin the next level of the challenge, when you heard the whirring of machines all around you.

Mist, and thick fog began to emit from the fans up on the gym’s ceiling. It quickly settled down upon the three of you, and obscured the previously clear sight in front of you into a dense, icy haze.

You gave a slight shudder; the room grew even colder when those fans were turned on. “N-Now we can’t see?! This just keeps getting cooler and cooler!” you said eagerly and turned around to Bede. “Isn’t this the absolute best sweetie? We’re gonna clear this next one so quick, we’re gonna be faster than a Snorlax chasing lunch!”

Bede laughed at your childlike behavior, giving you a pat on the head before Mochi could swat him away. “We’d better hurry, but we gotta be extra careful, okay?” He reminded you and you nodded at him in response.

The three of you began to carefully trek the unsteady floor in front of you. Mochi had her ears up in full concentration, using her psychic power to help lead her away from the multiple traps that lay hidden underneath the ice. And all was going well up until the end.

With what seemed like a clear few steps away from the finish line, Mochi had gotten overly excited in wanting to beat Bede, she ran right over the final trap on the floor.

The ice began cracking under her small feet and she let out a small squeak as she fully expected to hit the lightly padded floor below.

…

But it never came.

The Pokemon cautiously opened one of her red eyes to peer at the pink cardigan that was previously stained by her with tomato bisque. The pokemon then fixed her gaze up to Bede who had managed to catch her in time to cushion the fall from above.

The gym leader groaned slightly, using on hand to prop himself and the Meowstic up. The other he used to rub his now slightly aching back. “Ugh…”

Mochi continued to stare, bewildered at Bede’s actions. The two of them didn’t get along, the pokemon didn’t agree with the relationship because she was highly critical of anyone that came close to her trainer. Let alone in intimate terms such as dating.

But if they didn’t get along, why did he save her?

Mochi mewed softly to Bede. “Murr?”

Violet eyes met with red ones and Bede offered Mochi a smile. “Hey, are you hurt?”

The pokemon shook her head and then nuzzled against his hand softly. “Meow…stic.”

The two of them looked up as they heard frantic footsteps.

“Bede! Mochi! Are you two alright?” You were on your hands and knees from above looking down with a concerned expression on your face.  

Bede gave a thumbs up and a smile, your Meowstic cheering loudly.

After helping Mochi and Bede up out of the hidden trap, you all found an alternative route to the finish line, and successfully finished the challenge.

Melony was waiting at the end to offer her congratulations, and the key to the roof as a “prize”.

You gave another cheer, wrapping your arms around Bede and pulling him into a kiss.

Bede kissed back happily and halfway expected to be interrupted. But he wasn’t.

After he pulled away from you, he peered down towards Mochi who was standing there quietly, looking away from the two of you with her paws together in front of her. Oddly quiet, and non-mischievous for once in her life.

The leader was confused at the Pokemon, but didn’t say anything as the three made their way up to the roof. As they arrived, the new gush of cold air hit everyone at once, causing a shiver to run through each of them simultaneously.

“Let’s get that blanket out yeah?” you suggested, wrapping your hands over your chilled arms.

When Bede had finished laying out the blanket on the cold roof’s floor, and another heavier blanket that quickly followed. You practically launched yourself under it’s cozy embrace and held it open for himself and Mochi to join into.

You dug into your backpack and pulled out several snacks and a thermos full of apple cider and poured your Meowstic some first. She in turn took a large sip and cooed appreciatively.

You then offered Bede a glass of his own, then settled in next to him. Mochi right in the middle of you two.

Once the three of you were comfortable it wasn’t long until a familiar streak of light made its way onto the sky, casting colors from pale blue to florescent pink all through the nighttime sky.

    You let out another gasp, while taking pictures with your rotom phone, totally entranced.

     Bede felt a small weight against his knee as Mochi settled herself next to him and licked at her paw to rub against her face to rid it of the sweet cider she had previously drank earlier. He wrapped a arm around you and petted your Meowstic’s fur softly, listening to her coos of delight.

    The day might not had gone as Bede originally planned, but it did end on a sweeter note. And that he was grateful for.

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

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

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit,  happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   ​ @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd​

[cyoza]

Thank you so much for the last fic! I thoroughly enjoyed the angst. Are you still taking prompts? I’d love anything fluff for Dickkory! 😊

not to sound too stephanie meyer but i had a dream the other day about being married to dick grayson so it kinda inspired this. it’s also kind of an offshoot of the last fic i did.

i’m english so i’ve had to go uniform shopping every year whilst i was in school until i got to sixth form and it always made my mom cry cos honestly it signifies your kid getting older so that’s what i’ve tried to do here (also every odd question asked by mar’i is something my 7 year old sister has asked at some point haha)

sorry for the long note! thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy! (i’m also reclaiming mommy and daddy from those who don’t deserve it)

-

‘Daddy!’

Dick barely had time to set down his satchel before he was almost knocked back through the frame of the front door by the dark haired bundle that crashed into his knees before they clutched tightly to him.

‘Hi, little bug.’ He chuckled as he unlatched her from his knees and lifted her to settle on his hip, kicking the door closed as he did so.

His heart swelled as it always did when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

‘How was your day, Daddy?’ She asked sweetly.

‘Good, baby. What did you and Mommy do today?’

‘We went to the store and we got my uniform and Mommy said that I couldn’t have anything else but then she let me get a sparkly pillow and when you rub it one way, it’s one colour and when you rub it another way it goes another colour and it’s all shiny and pretty. And then mommy bought me a red bow so I can match my uniform-’

‘Mar’i, baby. Why don’t you let Daddy breathe for a little bit, okay?’ Kory’s tired voice called from the hallway as she made her way from Mar’i’s room into the living room. She’d taken to wearing exclusively leggings ever since she’d had Mar’i and she was clad in a dark grey pair coupled with one of his old burgundy jumpers, her hair in a messy pile on top of her head. Even in such a simple and understated outfit she managed to look so brightly beautiful.

‘Your uniform is still in the bags, why don’t you try it on and show Daddy?’ Kory suggested as she made her way to the kitchen and threw something into the washing machine before beginning to clear the various plates from the island.

Mar’i didn’t waste another second before she dropped down from his hip and sped down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom.

Dick took off his jacket and hooked it on the coat rack then came up behind Kory and slipped his arms around her waist. His body tingled as her body melted into his, her arms coming to rest atop of his.

‘How was your day, babe?’ He asked, pressing his lips under her jaw.

‘Long. We had to go to 4 different stores to get all the parts of her uniform and of course she wanted every single thing in each store. She’s a very good negotiator - I blame you.’

Dick snorted out a laugh but stopped short when Mar’i came galloping into the living room. Dick felt his heart clench as it dropped. She wore a grey pinafore over a crisp white shirt, a letterbox red cardigan covering both items. Her white socks had frills that covered the patent black strap of the ballerina pumps she wore. His throat closed up at the sight of her. He wondered how time could pass so fast.

‘You look wonderful, honey. I love it. Especially the bow.’ He nodded pointedly to the upside down bow clipped into one of her puffs.

Mar’i gave him a clumsy twirl with an elated smile on her face.

‘Okay sweetie, time to put it away please.’ Kory requested firmly.

‘But Mommy -’

‘No buts. You are not getting it dirty. Besides, we have to do your hair today and it’s gonna take until you go to bed. Hurry up, little pup.’

Mar’i let out a little huff and jutted out her bottom lip as she stomped her way to change. Kory waited until she turned the corner of her room before she spun in Dick’s arms and gave him an amused look.

‘Are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.’ She noted.

‘No, I’m fine. I just - when did she get so big?’

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘If it makes you feel better, I already cried in the changing room earlier. She had to give me a hug. Of course, half of that was because they'd ran out of her size in shirts despite it being the third store we’d been to.’

Dick laughed just as she’d intended him to but she related to his sentiment. It seemed like just yesterday that they left the hospital with her in a car seat and now she was starting school. Before they knew it, she would be graduating university and having children of her own.

‘Remember when the first time she floated? Middle of the night and my turn to give her her bottle. I thought I was dreaming.’

This time it was Kory that let out a chortle of laughter.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so scared and confused.’

‘Yeah, well it’s not every day that you wake up at 3am with your 1 year old just chilling on the ceiling.’ He pointed out.

‘I do miss her at that age. I miss how small she was. I miss her newborn baby smell. And honestly, I miss how quiet she was. You know the other day, she asked me if grass could feel pain when you step on it because it’s technically alive. I never thought I would be having a 10 minute argument with a 4 year old over grass.’

‘I’ll raise you one better. When you were teaching the other day, she asked me whether, when the world ends, we were gonna die or whether we could come back when the earth felt better.’

Kory let out a loud burst of laughter, barely managing to giggle out a ‘Kids are so weird.’

‘Well we could always have another one. It would occupy her time.’ Dick proposed.

She pulled back against the island, scanning his face to see whether he was serious.

‘Are you saying we should have another baby?’ She questioned.

‘I guess I am.’ He replied, shrugging his shoulders.

‘Do you think we can handle it?’ She asked again.

‘I mean we already had one right?’

‘Yeah but that’s hard enough as it is, Dick. Can we really handle another one?’

‘Come on...new baby smell, tiny swaddle of cuteness, Mar’i having a best friend...’ He goaded.

‘Yeah easy for you to say - you don’t have to give birth to them.’ She said with a roll of her eyes. ‘But you’re right. I would love to have another baby with you.’

She didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up. He seized his lips with a gentle kiss out before a faint crash broke them apart only a few moments later. The single ‘oops’ that followed let them know that it was going to be a long night.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All is Fair: Ch 11

Hi, Y’all!  Thank you for being so patient and not giving up on this fic even though I have been egregiously late with updates. At best, my life is erratically populated with periods of leisure time and periods of hectic, soul-crushing work. I, like many of you, am in the midst of a forced period of leisure time, so you will probably see more frequent updates. I appreciate those of you who are willing to stick around to see what happens next, and I hope you are in good health. Tell me what you think! x

Discovery and Dissolution

Polly Gray sat in her Bentley, wrapped in fur. Through her dark glasses, she watched the scene on the street where Lia worked. The bitter north wind cut straight down the sidewalk in front of the library and sent patrons scurrying for shelter within. A cluster of people shuffled through the arched brass doors, and Lia stepped out. She was a vision in a blue cashmere long coat, a mink collar clutched around her neck. The wind caused her coat to flap and play peek-a-boo with leather boots that stretched up to her knees. Both items were gifts from Tommy, Polly surmised. She noticed that Lia still wore an older pair of wool gloves. Guess he couldn’t think of everything.

 Despite the cold, Lia wore a little smile as she walked along. She’d been hard at work referencing and cross-referencing research with a professor of Art History at the University of Birmingham, and he was pleased with the help she’d given him. He had mentioned working with her again in the near future. Lia had come a long way from shelving books. She was beginning to realize the kind of life she had only dreamed was possible when she first came to Birmingham.  As she neared the corner, though, she was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed familiar-looking woman in a posh car was watching her.

 Polly lowered her window and called out, “Lia, Lia Montrose!”

 Lia slowed down and warily approached the car. Polly extended a sumptuously gloved hand, looked over her sunglasses at Lia, and introduced herself, “Polly Gray…Tommy’s Aunt Polly.”

 Lia visibly relaxed and took her hand at those words, “Mrs. Gray…I’m pleased to meet you.”

 “Get in, it’s time we got acquainted.”

 In a matter of minutes, Lia found herself sitting in the kitchen at No. 6 Watery Lane while Polly found two cups and put the kettle on. She then reached into the cupboard where she found a tin of tea. Upon opening it and sniffing the contents, she decided that it would do. Decked head to toe in Parisian tailor-made garments, she looked odd moving around the kitchen with such familiarity.

 While they waited for the kettle to boil, she offered Lia a cigarette and lit one of her own. They’d spoken hardly a word since they entered the house. Lia was loathe to break the silence with small talk, so she waited for Polly to say what was on her mind. They sat, smoking and soaking in the dusty quiet of the dimly lit room.

 Only when Polly poured the tea did she finally speak. “I brought you here so that you could see where Tommy lived...where we all lived before the money came.”

 Lia looked all around the room and smiled, “So this is where Tommy began.”

 Polly waved her hand with a flourish and laughed, “Who knows where Tommy began. If I hadn’t witnessed his birth I’d swear that he was flung out of heaven and barred from hell.”

 Lia smiled knowingly, “Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel.”

 “Exactly.” Polly raised an eyebrow and leaned back in the rickety chair. “I want you to understand why Tommy is,” she searched for the right words and finding none she continued, “the way he is.”

 Memories flooded Polly’s mind as she looked all around herself, gesturing here and there with the hand that held her cigarette. “Look around you, Lia. This is where we moved when things got better. You don’t want to know where we lived before when things were worse.”

 Lia swallowed hard and held her cup with both hands as if to draw every bit of heat out of it. She was suddenly cold. She had not grown up with much, but she was certainly comfortable. Her home had a lightness about it. The room where she sat with Polly was cozy, homey even, but the air was laced with soot and traces of despair.

 “Does that explain why he is so driven?” Lia wondered aloud.

 “Partly,” Polly mused. Then she looked at Lia with soft brown eyes, almost like she sympathized with her. She felt sorry for anyone who loved Tommy, even herself. “He has always been different. Clever and driven since the night he was born.” Then she looked away, “But he did have a big heart.”

 Did.

 It wasn’t Polly’s intention to make Lia uncomfortable or uncertain of her place in Tommy’s life, but Lia couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. Lia’s chair creaked as she shifted her weight and sat her teacup on the table, and Polly saw in her eyes a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.

 “We all had to make sacrifices to get where we are today, but Tommy has sacrificed the most. Business comes first. Always. Ada says that Tommy likes you, he may even grow to care for you, but there are certain things you will have to accept if you want to be with him...”

 “So he has said,” Lia broke in. She immediately regretted cutting Tommy’s aunt off, though Polly showed no sign of being offended. She just sipped her tea and smiled.

 “Has he said what he plans on doing with you when he returns to London, Dear?”

 Lia winced a bit at the question. “No.”

 There was silence between them again. A clock ticked out the seconds from the next room and the sounds of people shouting to each other in the street filtered through the walls. Having finished her tea, Polly lit another cigarette and let the quiet grow around them. She believed that you could learn a lot about a person by how they chose to deal with spaces in conversation, so she waited and watched.

 Lia ruminated on Polly’s last question as long as she could, then stood and looked toward the parlor, silently asking permission to go in.  Polly rose and accompanied her. Dusty furniture and photographs sat frozen in time as if they were waiting for Polly to run the sweeper or Ada to polish the tabletops. The fireplace sat waiting to be lit. But she couldn’t see Tommy until she looked up the shadowy stairwell. It was narrow, and she could barely see the top stair in the darkness, but something in the woodsy smell that drifted down reminded her of him. Polly caught the wistful expression on Lia’s face and placed her hand on Lia’s back.

 “His room was up there,” Polly nodded.

 Polly peered into the darkness and flipped a switch, then nodded in the direction of the stairs, inviting Lia to climb them.

   ***

 The sleek grey Bentley rolled along Cannon Lane and splashed slush in its wake. Lia sat in back with a heavy woolen blanket wrapped around her legs. She made small talk with Rodney, the Blinder up front. Already, she knew that he had a fiancé and that they were to be married in June. His mum and dad were from Coventry, and they were both deceased. Also, Tommy had taken him under his wing as a boy of thirteen. Tommy kept him from starving and from, as Rodney put it, “…falling in with the worst sort of criminal element.” It seemed like everywhere she turned there was another person with a story about what Tommy had done to help them.

 Rodney delivered her to her door, and eager to get out of the cold, Lia darted inside.

  “Jenny, are you here?”

 A few snowflakes floated to the floor while she hung up her coat and unbuttoned her mink lined gloves. She noticed that the kettle was on, and so she called out again.

 “Jenny!”

 Her cousin bounded down the stairs, pulling her arms through the sleeves of a cardigan as she came.

 “Jesus, Lia!” she laughed. “Is the bloody house on fire?”

 “I have news,” Lia beamed.

 Jenny nodded her head and set about fixing tea, “Go on then. Tell me your news.”

 “WE have the use of a car.”

 Jenny froze and her heart sank. “Come again…”

 “A car, Jenny! Tommy doesn’t like the idea of my riding the bus and walking to work, so he is sending a car ‘round for us every morning and afternoon. One of his men will drive us to and from work,” she enthused.

 Jenny stood blinking at her for a moment then responded in a monotone voice. “A Blinder, Lia. ‘One of his men’ means a Blinder. I’d rather walk in the rain and snow.”

 She turned her back to Lia and got out the plates, careful not to take her simmering mood out on the crockery. She tried her best to keep her distrust of Tommy out of her relationship with her cousin, but it was hard to keep things light when every other word out of Lia’s mouth was “Tommy”.

 Jenny had taken quite a bit of flack at work because of Lia’s connection with Tommy Shelby. She’d had her fill with entering rooms full of chatter only to have them go silent, and she had dodged several sideways comments about her recent promotion. She hated to kill the mood, but someone had to be the voice of reason. Rolling up to work chauffeured by a flat cap wearing thug was more than she could tolerate.

 Lia balled her fists and tried to modulate her voice as she asked, “Why do you hate him so much? Hmm? He is good to me and he wants to help you too.”

 “Help? Is that what he calls it?” Jenny turned back around and eyed Lia’s obviously new and obviously bought by Tommy clothes. “If you want to play house with him and let him dress you up as his little doll that’s your business, but I won’t be ferried around town in a car that was paid for with blood money.”

 “That’s not fair, and you know it. Our family weren’t always saints. Granddad was the first one in the queue to spunk away his wages on the horses and the last one out of the pub at night.”

 “Right, and it was people like the Shelbys who were more than happy to take his wages off of him while Nan and our dads went shoeless.”

 She had a point. Lia hated the fact that she had a point. Damn Jenny for always knowing how to snatch the stars from her eyes. Lia sat down and put her head in her hands to hide her tears. It was so easy to let Tommy do little things for her, to buy a scarf here and some gloves there, to make life easier for her in a thousand little ways. He never made her feel like it was payment for services rendered. How could Jenny take all of Tommy’s kindness and turn it into something dirty, something tainted and wrong? The gifts and the thoughtful things he did for her were not part of a transaction, they were just part of the way he liked to take care of her. She wished that for once Jenny could see the goodness in Tommy.

 Since Aunt Polly had shown her the house and the betting shop where Tommy had launched his empire, she had a deeper understanding of him. Since she’d stood in his tiny bedroom where he had wrestled with the echoes of the tunnels and sweated through nightmares of poverty and war, she saw him through different eyes. She had grown to tolerate his last-minute cancellations and welcome him without pouting when he’d kept her waiting half the night.

 Polly had opened her eyes to the man behind the façade in a way that he could never do himself. With that understanding, she opened herself up to the possibility of a life with Tommy. No, nothing about what happened between them was mercenary. Tommy just took care of people in his life. She was used to Jenny acting like an older sister and alerting her to pitfalls she had overlooked, but this was too much. The tears of frustration and despair that she had hidden behind her hands were becoming tears of rage. Over and over Jenny had proven that she wouldn’t ever approve of her relationship with Tommy, and Lia was finished with seeking her cousin’s approval.

 She wiped her eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, “You know, Tommy has offered to let me stay in one of his properties near the library. Maybe it’s time to take him up on that offer. I’d hate for my reputation as the Shelby whore to rub off on you.”

 Jenny put down the knife she’d been using to slice the bread. “Calm down. I didn’t say that…”

 “But that is what you meant.” Her words came out clipped and cold. “I don’t want my reputation for sleeping with the Gangster of Parliament to ruin your chances with some nice mid-level clerk, so I’ll just move out.”

 “No…don’t! I’m just worried about you. You are like my little sister and I’m afraid you’re riding for a fall. What happens when this is over?”

 Lia abruptly stood and lashed out at Jenny, “Over?” Lia growled.

 The word struck a chord of fear in Lia that made her dizzy. In an instant, all of her nights with Tommy, the taste of his sweat, the feel of his mouth, the smell of his sheets, flashed through her mind. She turned that fear into rage and took a step toward Jenny as she shouted, “I love him! That’s enough for me! Why can’t it enough for you?”

 It was true. She loved him so much that it hurt. Her face was red and blotchy and her chest heaved with every breath. She was tired of fighting Jenny at every turn, and at that moment all she wanted was Tommy’s arms around her.  She needed him so badly that she felt like she would fly into a million pieces without him holding her together.

 Jenny took a step backward and bumped into the kitchen counter. Lia looked truly deranged. A realization came over Jenny like a wave. Lia was a different person now— a person who turned a blind eye to the ugly side of her man and made excuses for his shortcomings. It had been happening gradually over the last few months; the absent-minded dreamer that she had grown up with had disappeared. Back then, no matter how far out Lia got Jenny was always the voice of reason who could reel her back in, but Lia wasn’t listening to her anymore. This was different.

 There seemed to be no turning back. Jenny knew that she had already said too much, but couldn’t resist a parting shot as she headed for the stairs. “Love? How can you love him when the only things you have in common are each other?”

 Even as Jenny said it, she wondered if it was true.

  ***

   Tommy and Arthur were sitting opposite each other at Tommy’s desk in their shirtsleeves talking about horses. Arthur had put too many logs on the fire and the room was like an oven. It was past the close of business and they should have been heading home, but they had lately taken to staying for drinks a couple of nights a week. Arthur would tell stories about Billy and the chickens, and Tommy had even opened up a bit about Lia. Arthur was cursing the heat and rolling up his sleeves when they heard someone pounding at the door.

 “You expecting company?” Arthur asked in his rough, whiskey soaked Brum.

 Tommy ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth and shook his head, “No.”

 They stood and Arthur made his way toward the door, his hand on his pistol.

 “Who’s there?” he boomed.

 A muffled voice called, “Lia Montrose. I need to see Tom…Mr. Shelby.”

 Arthur turned in his brother’s direction and feigned seriousness. ”Shall we let her in, Tommy?”

 Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed, “Open the fookin’ door; it’s freezing out there.”

 Lia entered the building shaking snow from her disheveled hair and stamping the slush from her boots. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes were a bit watery from the wind. She imagined that she looked a fright, but Arthur thought she looked like an angel.

 Arthur stood there looking her up and down while she tried not to gawp at the pistol hanging loosely under his arm until Tommy cleared his throat and began to make introductions.

 “Lia, this is my brother Arthur. Arthur, Lia Montrose.”

 Arthur straightened up and offered to take her coat. As he hung it on the rack, he smiled a bit too broadly and said, “Tommy has told me a lot of nice things about you.”

 Tommy knew that something was wrong because he and Lia hadn’t planned on seeing each other until the weekend. After a few pleasantries, Tommy stared at Arthur until he made his excuses and left.

 Chills shook her body; she was shaking like a leaf, so Tommy took her by the hand and led her into his office where a fire roared and two glasses of whiskey were already waiting. He sat her down on his desk and took a seat in front of her, all the while rubbing the warmth back into her arms and hands. She looked down into his crystalline eyes and tried to find the words to say what she’d come for. At that moment, she was ever so grateful that Tommy knew how to take his time with her. He would wait until she was ready to talk.

 She finished her first glass of whiskey and leaned into him. She breathed deeply and sighed, feeling better already simply for having him there to hold her.

 “I don’t know what to do,” she mumbled into his collar.

 “About…” he prompted her while stroking her head.

 She sat back up and his hands went to her thighs rubbing slow, soothing circles over her skirt. She watched his hands and thought about what Jenny had said. She didn’t know very much about him, other than what they did together. Hell, she only just met his brother. His business dealings were a mystery and she had learned more about him from the papers than from his own words. So what if she became breathless around him? So what if her tummy fluttered every time he entered the room? Surely there was more to love than the helpless infatuation she felt for him.

 Tommy lay his head in her lap and wrapped his arms around her hips thinking that maybe she would be able to tell him what was wrong if his eyes weren’t watching her. She ran her fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.

 “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

 “Is that right?” Tommy whispered.

 Lulled by the sensation of her fingernails on his scalp, he could feel the knots in his shoulders loosen. He was trying his best to be attentive to her needs, but his mind drifted to what he’d like to do with her on his desk.

 “Jenny and I had an awful row… the worst one we’ve ever had,” she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and went on, “I can’t live with her anymore.”

 That got his full attention.

[thiswasinevitableid]

this isn't off any prompt list but hero/villian indruck where they have a meetcute and both desperately try to keep the other from finding out their alter ego as their relationship gets more and more serious while simultaneously trying to keep their rival away from their seemingly innocent love interest for fear of endangering them

Here you go!

“You win this round, Knight,” The Moth hovers, mechanical wings flapping and smile spreading across his face. The blood trickling down his nose doesn’t faze him in the slightest, “But I’m sure we’ll see each other quite soon.”

He flies off before Duck can grab him, leaving the hero standing, arms crossed (and cross in general), his quiet evening at home ruined by The Moth’s need cause trouble at the Governors Ball.

He’d just gotten to a good part in his book too.

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

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!”

Duck looks up as he’s wiping coffee from his lap to find a tall, gangly, angular stranger hurriedly tossing down his bag  to help clean up the spill.

“I’m sorry, I get lost in my thoughts sometimes and oh, darn it all.” In his eagerness to help, the taller man splashes coffee onto this white tank top, giving him a belly splotch that matches the one on Ducks green t-shirt. 

“It’s uh, no big deal, ain’t like I was in my Sunday best and, uh, that ain’t a library book.”

“Oh no your book.” The other man lifts the stained paperback, looks at it sadly, “At least let me buy you a replacement.” He’s holding the book to his chest now, clearly hopeful that Duck will let him make amends.

Between the red-brown eyes, the tousled, silver-dyed hair, and the earnest, odd smile, he has an air of disheveled charm that, at his age, Duck ought to be past finding adorable. 

Instead, he smiles back, “Sure thing. Bookstore  two blocks down oughta have copies, and a little cafe to boot. You let me buy you a replacement drink, I’ll let you buy me a new book. Deal?”

The other man nods, hands flapping, “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

Duck grins, suddenly excited, before noticing he’s a bit sticky.

“Meet me there in an hour so we can both change?”

“It’s a date.”

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

It’s a date? Agh, of all the ways he could have phrased it, why did his blasted, traitorous mouth choose that one?

He stands awkwardly in one corner of the cafe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pink and yellow cardigan. Was this too flamboyant? He doesn’t even know if the other man is gay. He supposes he could look into the futures to determine the answer to that, but doing so feels rude. 

This is why he turned to supervillainy in the first place; he’s terrible with people. 

He wishes he’d worn his glasses. They’re technically a tool of his trade, but they make him feel safe. 

“Uh, howdy.” 

He glances up, finds the man from before looking at him. Now that he’s not racked with panic trying to clean up a spill, he has a chance to take in just how much his type the man is. Short, but bear like (”a teddy bear” his mind supplies, unhelpfully), with green eyes and charming, unhurried vibe to him. His drawl does remind him of a certain hero who’s always in his way, but he won’t hold that against him. 

“Buy you a coffee?”

“Yes, please. Ah, um, I guess I should introduce myself; I’m Indrid.”

“Duck” he holds out his hand and Indrid takes it, enjoys the warmth and strength in his grip, “Nice to meet you.”

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

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Duck tightens Beacon around The Moth, who tears at the blade with his retractable claws. Duck learned about those the hard way, when the villain extended them during one of their first meetings. The slash broke the skin, something rare for Duck on account of his durability. 

“And you have got to come up with some more creative lines, hero.” The Moth snarls, “you have used that one twice before now. Which is also how many times you have forgotten about this.”  The villain throws himself sideways and down with enough force to yank Duck to his knees and loosen his grip. As his sword clatters to the ground, red powder fills his eyes.

“Gah, jesus, not that shit again.” His eyes sting, and as he pats the ground for Beacon he hears the scrape of metal moving away from him. Beacons hilt disappears into the mist, dragged slowly back by The Moth’s foot. 

Duck looks up at him through watering eyes, trying not to breath in the dust. 

“Well, you got me at your mercy. You gonna start gloatin about your evil plans or some shit?”

A light, sharp laugh, “Why would I waste my time in such a way? Oh no, I shall be making off with my prize. And making sure you don’t follow me.”

He raises his foot, and Ducks vision whites out on one side as he crumples. 

He should be more worried about the villain getting away with the schematics for the ApCorps latest government security features. 

Mostly, he’s worried he’ll have a black eye tomorrow. 

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

“Hel-oh goodness, Duck, your eye.” Indrid opens the door a half second before Duck knocks, then quickly cups his cheeks to take a closer look.

“Looks worse than it is, sugar, don’t worry. And, uh, surprise.” He produces a small bouquet of Irises from he behind his back. Indrid beams, taking them with squeak of delight. 

“They’re lovely, but what’s the occasion?” He’s smiling almost like he knows, almost like he just wants to hear him say it. 

“Know, uh, know I said I wanted to take things slow, but I realized we been datin a month I ain’t given you anythin.”

“You bought me coffee that first time. And we have each bought dinner for the other multiple times.” Indrid takes his hand, drawing him inside.  

“I know but, well, kinda wanted to do somethin a little more special.”

“Any time with you is special.” 

Duck snorts, “Cornball.”

Indrid kisses, “I learned from the best.”

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

“What can I say, I learned from the best.” Indrid grins at The Knight, who is currently hanging upside down in an elegantly simple snare. 

“I got the idea from that unpleasant sword of yours. Keep your enemy tied up nice and tight to keep them out of your OW, ow, alright I should have seen that coming.” His glasses are now cracked from the Knight headbutting him.

“I’m impressed you could manage that upside down.”

“Drop these fuckin chains off me and I’ll show you somethin real impressive.”

Indrid tilts his head, “Tempting, but I have a pressing engagement tomorrow morning. Not to mention I need to get this,” he pats the painting he just lifted from the house of a man with a gold toilet, “somewhere safe. Until we meet again.” He offers a mocking salute, and takes flight.

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

“Again?” Indrid offers, pressed against warm, sweat-tinged expanse of Duck’s chest, his heart beating in time with the rapid rise and fall of Ducks breathing.

“Nope. Not that the body and mind ain’t willin, but the mind and body also got work tomorrow. Damn that felt good.” He usually tops, but with Indrid he’s found it more variable; some nights, like tonight, the other man fucks him into the bed, or over the nearest table, or however far they get before Duck can’t stand waiting anymore. Other nights, Indrid gets on all fours so Duck can fuck him with the strap, drops to his knees before they make it past the entryway, tugging at Duck’s belt buckle with little whimpers. 

“Mmmm, it was magnificent my love.” Indrid goes stone still in his arms as that last syllable flutters in the air.

Duck brushes strands of pale hair from his forehead, “I love you too, ‘Drid.”

His boyfriend flops down in relief, “oh thank goodness that’s the way it went.”

“As if I could feel any other way about you.”

Indrid mutters something that might be “cornball” into his chest, yawns and nestles closer with whisper of “love my teddy bear.”

“Love you too, sugar.”

Shit.

He’s in love with Indrid. 

Bad things happen to superhero love interests. Very bad things. He can’t bear losing him, but no one beside the other members of the Pine Gaurd know his secret identity. He’s not ready to tell him yet. Soon, but not yet. 

Indrid rolls sleepily onto his side and Duck goes with him, turning into the little spoon in his embrace. God, what if an enemy decides to kidnap him, hurt him, just to get to Duck?

Then again, no villain has singled him out, save for one. 

Which he’ll need to deal with that one as soon as he can. 

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

“Give up while you still can, Moth!” 

“Not a chance.” Indrid hisses back, clutching the gash on his arm from the sword. What has gotten into the Knight today? Usually he only fights Indrid the amount needed to stop whatever crime he’s busy committing. 

Today he’s trying to destroy him. 

He’s been training, that much is clear, he has new moves that Indrid finds difficult to anticipate in a fight, and a fire in his eyes that heightens Indrid’s guard. 

As he flits out of reach of yet another strike, his goal of thievery long forgotten in favor of not getting chopped in half, he tries to determine the source of the change. What would make him fight harder?

Duck. He’d burn this city to the ground, tear every hero in it to pieces, if Duck were in danger. 

He reaches the edge of the building, but before stepping off to safety he turns.

“You win tonight, Knight. But do give that new lover of yours my regards.”

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

“Hey, Indrid?”

“Yes?” His boyfriend looks up from his sketches. 

“I was wonderin if, uh, if you’d like to go to a  fancier place than normal? Barclay got me an in at La Lune, thought we could go on Friday. There’s, uh, there’s somethin I wanna talk about.”

“Is is a marriage proposal or breaking up with me?”

“What? No!”

Indrid chuckles, “I am teasing. Mostly.” He bounces his eyebrows and Duck rolls his eyes in response. 

“Thought afterwards, might be nice to go out to the park and stargaze, tell you what I need to in private.”

“That sounds lovely, my love.”

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

The stars are aligning in Indrid’s favor this week. 

Yesterday, when the Knight tried to corner him on his way out of his lair, he took the gamble of getting close, earning him the reward of landing a deep slash on The Knight’s cheek. One he won’t be able to heal by tonight. Whether he’s in his hero get-up or his civilian clothes, Indrid will be able to spot him. 

And tonight, he has it on good authority that the Knight will be appearing in this block of the city.  The same block on which sits La Lune. Indrid can go to dinner with his boyfriend right after removing the biggest threat to said boyfriend. 

He’s perched on the roof of the restaurant, steering clear of the large skylight. His glasses scan the streets, the windows all around him. 

But this is taking longer than anticipated. He hasn’t looked too far into the futures for the night, since his growing romantic side wants whatever Duck tells him to be a true surprise. 

He pulls out his phone, swipes to his conversation with Duck. Beneath the photo of a Scarlet Tanager Duck sent him from his work at the ranger station he types, running behind, will be there shortly after 7.

He receives back, NP, see you soon sugar with a kissy face. 

The minutes tick by, the spring sun setting inch by inch behind the downtown skyline. At 7:05, he peeks through the skylight, spots Duck. He can’t see his face all the way in the mood lighting of the restaurant, but he knows his gait, his profile. 

At 7:30 there is still no sign of his nemesis. He’s been scanning and staring and searching, looking at his phone only once after it buzzes many times. He has four missed calls and five texts

Duck: ETA? Damn, this place is even fancier than I thought. 

Duck: Everything okay? If you’re close, I can order us some appetizers so you don’t got to wait to eat. 

Duck: Can’t wait to see you.

Duck: Are you still coming? Are you okay? 

Duck: Sugar?

That last one comes as he’s reading the others. He peers down through the skylight, sees Duck stare at his phone for a ten count, gnawing his lip. Then he looks up at the sky, eyes shut, as if weighing a decision. 

Indrid’s heart plummets. 

There’s a gash on Duck’s cheek. 

A gash he put there. 

Every coincidence, every strange incident he’d pushed to side, lost in the happiness of their courtship, floods his mind. 

Suddenly, he knows what Duck was going to tell him. 

With shaking fingers, he types,

So sorry, my battery died at the worst of all times, I borrowed a charger from a good samaritan. I’m nearly there. 

It takes him two and a half minutes to descend the building and change into his evening wear that he stashed nearby. 

At three minutes, he’s walking through the doors, Duck jumping up and hugging him before he even makes the table.

“Sorry for, uh, textin so much, I guess I got a bit nervous. Y’know how shit can get here; can be walkin home and suddenly a supervillain is wreckin shit and you’re collateral.”

“I understand.” He takes his seat, Duck relaxing into the chair opposite him, “in fact, my love, I understand a great deal.”

Indrid reaches into his pocket, producing a pair of red glasses. He slips them on, knowing the other diners will think nothing of it. 

“I look familiar, don’t I?”

Duck stares so long, moving so little, that Indrid fears he sent him into some kind of shock. 

“Get out. Now.” Duck’s tone is level, his eyes glinting with threat. 

“Duck, please, I, I want to explain-”

“Out. I ain’t gonna tangle with you tonight, but I don’t wanna see you ever again.”

Wordlessly, Indrid removes the glasses, and walks into the night.

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

Indrid is out of ideas. 

For the first week after his confession, he searched the futures religiously for any sign that Duck would come after him, would reveal his apartment to the other heroes. 

It never came. 

He hasn’t stolen anything in two months. 

He sent a single apology letter to Duck, doing his best to explain the situation. Watched the futures narrow down to a single one; Duck reading it, then tearing it up. 

He even sent anonymous notes to the Pine Guard, altering them to several oncoming disasters or the kind of supervillainy that has a body count. 

Wounded pride, a loss of purpose, a wave of self-loathing, and a dozen other complexly unpleasant emotions could form the center of his world. 

But it all comes down to one simple feeling: he misses Duck. Misses his smile, his sense of humor, his strange laugh, the safety he felt by his side, and endless list of things stripped from his life by his own actions. 

Which is why it has come to this.

He sets up the camera, and starts recording.

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

“Hey, Duck, I think you should see this.”

Duck plods into the main control room, where Ned is fiddling with the video feed while Aubrey waves him to sit by her.

“I swear to fuck if it’s that police chief tryin to recruit us again-”

“Nah, Aubrey and I finally got through to him.” Mama tosses out from the corner where she’s busily whittling a wooden duck. 

The screen flickers blue, and then Duck feels the opposing pulls of revulsion and longing as Indrid’s face appears. His glasses are off, but he’s otherwise in his full villain get-up.

“Hello Duck, and, ah, I assume the rest of the Pine Guard. It is fine with me if you all listen in, but this message is ultimately for him.”

Barclay reaches over Ned to hit pause, “Duck?”

“Y’all can stay.”

The video resumes. 

“I have two messages. The first is an apology; not necessarily for the things I have stolen, but for any genuine harm I caused other people, yourselves included. And I apologize once again, and as many more times as you require, Duck, for not telling you the truth sooner. In my defense, there is no easy way to admit to the man you love that you are a supervillain. All the same, I ought to have been brave enough to try, for your sake.” 

Indrid sits up and Duck leans forward. 

“My second message is that I am retiring from supervillainy. I could say something about a change of view on the world in general, but the truth is that villainy is less interesting without an equal to rival and banter with me. And, well, I am sure I can find other ways to fill my days. Especially if the man I care for is by my side. I should be clear that my retirement is not contingent on you reaching out to me again, Duck. Merely that it is something you may wish to know. Ah, I suppose that is all. This is the Moth, signing off for the last time. I’m sorry again, Duck. I love you.”

“Think it’s a bluff?” Aubrey asks as the screen goes dark.

“No, as one who has mastered the art of insincerity, I do not believe so.” Ned responds, switching on the lights.

Duck, for his part, says nothing.

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

Indrid rolls off the bed at the knock, rubbing his eyes as he trudges to the door, too tired to look at the futures. 

“How can I…” 

The sight of Duck Newton on his doorstep elicits so many emotions that he short circuits. 

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“So, retiring huh?”

“Yes.” He fights the urge to chew his nails. 

“Guess that means you’re free to talk right now?”

“Indeed.” He steps back, allowing Duck to step in and shut the door.

“Great, Because we got a lot to talk about. But, uh, first.”

He cups Indrids cheeks, kissing him so lovingly that the former villain melts against him, gripping the front of his ranger jacket the way a falling man grasps at a cliff. 

“I missed you so much.” He whispers, and before he has time to hate the crack in his voice, Duck is kissing him again, guiding him slowly and surely to the couch, murmuring in between kisses.

“Missed you too, so much, goddamn, couldn’t stop thinkin about you, love you so much ‘Drid, wanna make things right, we’re gonna make ‘em right, I promise.”

Indrid glances at the futures, sees that in all of them they do, in fact, end up having a long, serious conversation, one that ends in even softer kisses and Duck curled around him in his bed. 

But there’s still a few more minutes for him to savor being here, safe and secure, in the arms of his hero.