#i had more to say about this than expected i guess

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[natlovesls2]

It Isn't Over

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: small amount of angst, minimal swearing, no use of y/n, short and honestly not that good

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 900

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Lando regrets the everything that has happened between you. Part two to this: part one

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Lando had silently hoped your Instagram stories only served to make him jealous. Perhaps you simply wanted to show him what he had lost– of course that had been nothing but wishful thinking, having heard from a mutual friend that you were indeed seeing some guy. He stood at the door of your apartment, hand slightly raised as he debated whether he should knock or not.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to knock?” the sound of your voice shaking him out of his thoughts. 

He hadn’t seen you in months, you looked as radiant as ever, “I miss you,” he blurted out, voice slightly shaky as he reached a hand out towards you,“I made a mistake, a big one, I know I did. I lie awake every night thinking about it.”

He noticed your hesitance, he wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to reading people despite what you thought of him. “Why don’t you come in, have something to drink,” you sighed, digging through your purse, attempting to find your keys. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, watching as you opened the door to your apartment, letting him in and closing the door behind you. He scanned the living room for any sign of your moving on, perhaps a coat left by your new lover or a picture of a sentimental moment hanging on the wall, but he found none. Instead he was greeted by the same living room he had come to know during the duration of your complicated friendship. 

“I guess we have a lot to talk about,” you led him to your kitchen, hand shaking as you poured him a glass of water, “do you want anything else to drink?” he shook his head, taking a sip of water. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. He was nervous, something he had never been around you. Lando had always been a confident person, especially around you, this was new. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks. 

“What?” you were confused by the sudden question, it hadn’t been what you expected him to say, far from it. There wasn’t anything that could have come out of his mouth that would have been expected but this was certainly one of the least possible things you would expect. In fact, maybe, an apology would have been more appropriate than whatever he intended with that question. 

“I think I’m in love with you, and if you’re seeing someone then it complicates things. I saw that guy on your instagram– but that doesn’t change how I feel,” he rambled out a confession, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair. 

“You think?”

“I am, I am so in love with you. And I made the worst mistake of my life, I know that. I just need another chance,” he said, desperately pleading with you, his tone the most serious you had ever heard from him. It hurt you, it hurt to know that it had taken him years to realize this. His eyes never leaving your face, hoping to find any sort of reaction that would reveal that your feelings for him hadn’t changed despite his foul treatment. 

“Lando…” you started. He hated the way you said his name, how soft your voice still sounded despite the evident pain. “You hurt me in many ways. It was as if you saw me as less than human, just something to satisfy whatever needs you had,” you felt tears start to well up in your eyes, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep calm. “And now you show up at my front door claiming to be in love with me? I find it all hard to believe.”

You remember one night that had been particularly hurtful– the night of your birthday. Lando had called you earlier that day, inviting himself over to your apartment. You had wishfully thought that he had remembered your birthday, despite the fact that he had yet to acknowledge it. When he had finally arrived that night you were not greeted with the words “Happy Birthday”. Instead he pushed his way into your home, kissing you and whispering against your skin about how much he needed you. It wasn’t until a week later that he had even noticed that your birthday had passed. So to say that you couldn’t believe Lando had truly changed was an understatement, but even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to forget about your feelings towards him. 

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to give me another chance– an opportunity to prove to you that what I feel for you is real, that I truly do love you,” Lando took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush away a stubborn tear that had made its way past the threshold of your eyes. 

“One chance,” you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his. 

“So you’re not seeing that guy you’ve been posting on your Instagram?”

“He’s my cousin,” you said with a small teary laugh, placing a kiss on his nose. 

And maybe things would be different than they had been before. Maybe this time he wouldn’t ditch you at events for models who made you insecure or forget your birthday. This time he wouldn’t make you hate the way you looked. But only time would tell.

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I had a lot I wanted to do for this but lost motivation and I didn't want to just scrap the whole fic so... yeah, I know its shit but I've had a rough month. Anyway, I just wanted to give the original a happy ending. My Decemeber shorts will be better (I hope), peace out

[shapelytimber]

Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … instead we’re moving slow, i guess she’s used to it by now.

05, CHAPTER FIVE. YOU BETTER START THINKING.

ju speaks. i procrastinated this so bad lol but i have some time over the break to get some stuff out (more hoaw chapters) so yay! pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos.

present day, june 2025.

i’m not sure why i let it happen again.

scratch that—i know exactly why. i just don’t want to admit it to myself. it’s always like this with paige and me. a spark, a touch, a stupid comment or argument that turns into something much bigger, much harder to control. we’ve been here before, over and over, in different cities, in different beds, pretending like this time will be the last time. it should’ve been.

the last couple of weeks have been easier than i expected, softer in a way i didn’t know we were capable of. i’m starting to think it’s too good to be true. paige hasn’t been running from me, hasn’t been trying to prove something every second of our time together. maybe that’s why i’ve let my guard down, just a little.

she’s still herself, of course. cocky, loud, and incapable of stilling. but she’s been showing up. not just physically but in the ways i used to hope for back when we were together the first time. it’s in the way she looks at me when she thinks i’m not paying attention, like she did in high school when she told me she never wanted to let go of me. it’s in the way she texts me good morning before i can even think about reaching for my phone, like she’s trying to prove she can still be someone i want to wake up to.

and maybe, stupidly, i’m starting to believe her.

not completely, not yet. paige bueckers has always been good at saying the right things, making promises she’s not ready to keep. but these past weeks, it’s like she’s trying to remind me who she was before everything got so messy. the version of her i fell for in the first place.

but when she’s here, like this? it’s so hard to remember why i ever tried to stay away.

paige is stretched out on her back, arm slung around me, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly on my shoulder. the sheets are tangled around her bare legs, and she shifts slightly, the motion sending a faint brush of her skin against mine. i glance up at her, and the smug smirk already curling at her lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“you staring at me, nai?” she asks. her voice is rough and a little husky from sleep as she stretches. my eyes flash to her exposed abdomen.

“don’t flatter yourself,” i mutter, though it is so obviously a front.

“tooooo late,” she drawls, shifting again so she’s propped up on one elbow, the other hand sliding up to lazily run along my arm. “you’re terrible at pretending you’re not obsessed, by the way.”

i roll my eyes, trying to hide the way my breath hitches at her touch. “says the girl who texted me five times in a row last night because i didn’t answer fast enough.” i lean back against the pillow, staring up at her, and i swear i could forever.

paige’s grin widens, shameless as she looks away. “i mean, what was i ‘posed to do? sit there and wait? nah, i had to apply pressure.” the smugness on her face tells me she’s having way too much fun with this, fun with me.

i snort, shaking my head as i get up, swinging a leg over her and straddling her waist casually. “pressure? you called me a ‘certified flake’ and threatened to pull up if i didn’t respond.”

paige lets out a low laugh, her hands instinctively finding my thighs as i settle over her. “yeah, and look where it got me.” she licks her lips, smirk softening as her eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips that are curled up into a smile. “don’t act like you didn’t like the attention.”

i arch a brow, tilting my head to the side. “oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

her hands tighten on my thighs, smirk faltering for just a second before she regains composure. “mhm. attention. you’re welcome.”

i roll my eyes but don’t pull away, my hands bracing on her chest. how could i? “you’re such a problem.” i bring the comforter we shared last night up over my back, and its like a tent giving us privacy from the sun of my windows. i really need some black-out curtains or something.

“and you love it,” she fires back, her voice dropping, teasing, as her fingers trail upwards, stopping just far enough.

i do. God, i really do.

i smile, and i swear my face hurts from it as i lean down to kiss her. again and again, each one leaving paige chasing after my lips. i savor the moment. i’m not sure how long it’ll be like this, but i like it. a lot. i pull back, resting my head on her chest, breathing in her morning scent as she bites down on her lip in reminiscence.

“tell me i’m wrong,” she murmurs.

i laugh, more of a pity chuckle just because she’s so full of herself. i furrow my eyebrows just slightly, bringing my hand to a resting point right by my face. “i’m not telling you shit, bueckers.”

“yeah? but you didn’t say i was wrong.”

i don’t want to admit it, not to her, not even to myself, but paige knows me better than anyone. she always has. it’s infuriating and comforting all at once, the way she sees through me like i’m an open book. i’m not an open book. i never have been, but for paige…

she doesn’t press, though. she never does when it really matters. she just watches me with that maddening half-smile, her fingers brushing over my skin like she has all the time in the world, and i know she’s waiting for me to say it. to give in.

maybe that’s why i keep coming back. or maybe it’s because she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel this much all at once—frustration, want, affection, something i’m not ready to name. whatever it is, it’s why i don’t pull away, why i let her keep pulling me closer even when i know i should stop.

i shift, the sheets rustling beneath us, and my chest tightens. not about what she said, but what i’m forcing myself to think about. i hate how much i want this, how much i want her, even after everything. especially after everything. but its addicting, and i know she feels the same.

“maybe i’m just a sucker for this,” i mutter, low enough that i’m not sure she hears it.

but of course she does.

she nearly breaks her neck to look down at me. she doesn’t let the words settle. “nah, you a sucker for me.”

i roll my eyes again, avoiding her gaze, but i don’t argue. instead, i lift my head again as i prop myself up on her chest. “what makes you so sure?” it’s a stupid question, but i was fully ready for her to read me.

paige’s smile turns smugger. “because you’re here,” she says simply. “and you’re smiling like that.”

i scoff, trying to play it off, but the way she’s looking at me makes it impossible. i lean down, pressing my lips to hers again, even slower this time. how could i stay away from her when kisses me like this? i feel the way her mouth curves, realizing she’s smiling too.

my hand slides up to cup her face, and she pulls me just a little closer by the small of my back, grip tight like always, like she’s scared i’ll slip. it’s not rushed—in fact, we have a couple hours to be entangled like this before having to part—it’s intentional. like she’s got all the time in the world and wants me to feel it.

and i do.

“it’s—mhm—okay,” paige says, and i find her muffled words rather cute as i shift my hips up, pushing my lips further into hers. her hand slides up my bare back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. “i am too.”

i pull away, sitting up a little straighter as i quirk a brow at her. “you’re what?” i ask. i decide to help her out, unclasping my bra, but holding the straps up over my chest until she’s finished speaking.

her eyes fall, tongue swiping over her swollen, pink lips. i’m teasing her, i know it, paige definitely knows it. but as she brings her hands up slowly, tearing my own away, i almost forget what i was doing to her in the first place, suddenly fully exposed. i hear her breath hitch. “a big, fat sucker for you.”

i bite back a smile despite her unserious words, because they always make me do that. i roll my eyes, cusping her mouth into my hand playfully as she laughs, shaking out of it.

paige doesn’t hesitate.

she attaches her lips to my collarbone, trails down to the curve of my chest. i look down, and if i didn’t know any better, i’d say paige bueckers is absolutely enamored with me. “so beautiful, baby,” she huskily says, her hands grounding my hips against her as she moves to my tits, attacking the marks she’d left last night so roughly it has my breathing going faster.

i tangle a hand in her hair, fingers tightening reflexively, and it’s like i can’t look away. her face, her lips—every detail feels seared into my memory. “for real,” she continues, and when she looks up at me unexpectedly, lips curving into a small grin, it’s like i’ve completely checked out.

i’m not me anymore, i’m whatever paige wants me to be.

“need you framed or somethin’.” it’s a joke. clearly a joke, nailea. but the way she’s making me feel makes it land differently.

“framed, huh?” i manage.

“yeah,” she replies proudly, like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever said. “you know, like for the crib. big centerfold. maybe as my lock screen too.”

i can’t help it—i laugh, shaking my head, closing my eyes momentarily as i pretend her words aren’t setting me closer to giving myself to her completely. “you’re so stupid,” i mutter.

paige doesn’t flinch, her grin only widening as she dips her head again, her lips brushing over the swell of my chest. “nah, just honest,” she murmurs against my skin, and the way her voice vibrates there nearly makes me lose it.

i force myself to breathe, leaning back slightly as her hands wander. “maybe you can,” i blurt out without thinking, and she pauses, glancing up at me again.

“what you talkin’ about?” she asks.

i don’t answer right away, leaning over to grab the pink polaroid camera sitting on my nightstand. it’s old and clunky, a relic from freshman year that my dad had given me, and i’d kept it more out of nostalgia than utility. now, though, it feels like fate.

it always does with us.

when i sit back, holding the camera up, paige’s eyes light up, her grin widening into something more troublesome. “nai,” she drags out.

i lift my eyebrows, playing along, like i don’t already know where this is headed. “i’m listening.”

“you not serious,” she shakes her head, voice etched with some laughter. she doesn’t believe it, yet she still tilts her head, sizing me up like she’s already planning the perfect angle.

“thought you wanted me framed, p,” i counter, poking my bottom lip out as i lift the camera a little higher.

her grin deepens, tongue flicking over her teeth as she leans back just enough, hands sliding up and down my legs, creating some sort of friction. she hesitates. “you sure?”

i pretend to think for a moment before responding. “hmm, depends. you gonna cooperate?”

paige chuckles. “oh, i’ll cooperate.” she shifts again, her posture loosening as she leans back against the headboard, one arm draping casually over her head, the other trailing down to rest just between my legs. shes so sexy it’s almost overwhelming. her grin is the same as always, blue hues pierced into me.

“go on then,” she urges. “show me how you see me, baby.”

i adjust the camera into focus, fingers fumbling over the different buttons i’m sure i’ll have to show her have to work before snapping the first photo. the flash and the sun combined cast her in a perfect light, and though she’ll look less defined in the old pixels, the sight’s engraved in my head now.

the whir of the camera fills the room, and the polaroid slides out, landing softly against her chest. paige grabs it, holding it up with a satisfied smirk as the image slowly develops, inspecting it like it’s a prize. she glances at me, her expression softening just a little. “i’m bettin’ you could do better.”

“oh, you think so?” i shoot back, handing her the camera.

“mhm. there a timer on this thing?”

i step out of the shower and into my room, shivering a little as i pull the towel tighter around my chest. paige, completely the opposite temperature of me, must have messed with my thermostat.

i silently curse her for getting so comfortable.

she’s still here, tall figure leaning over the bed she made up. she’s wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and her sports bra, her phone in one hand, the other lazily shuffling through the scattered polaroids we just took.

“what you doin’?” i ask, tilting my head at her as i walk over, water droplets trailing down my legs.

paige glances up, her blue eyes gleaming like i’ve interrupted something i should’ve known better than to question. “you thought i was lying about my lock screen?” she smugly says, holding up her phone.

i keep my eyes on her, not knowing what to expect as i move closer, the faintest tug of a grin threatening my lips. “what’d you do?” i mutter, snatching her phone to check it for myself.

sure enough, the lock screen now features a series of the pictures we’d taken. i blink, and i think my boiling, hot shower just cleansed every dirty thought i had before getting in, because i don’t remember us being this fucking horny. my cheeks flush despite myself. “paige, you cannot keep this on your phone.”

she strokes her chin, lowly laughing at my reaction. “why not? looks good, don’t it?”

i shake my head as i fight back every inch of amusement that wants to take over me. “it’s unhinged,” i retort, though the corner of my mouth betrays me. a part of me wants her to keep it.

she looks at me, completely unfazed. “everything we just did is unhinged.” well…

before i can think of a snappy comeback, there’s a sudden knock at the front door, loud and authoritative. my heart leaps, and i freeze. paige stiffens too, her smile faltering just slightly.

“shit,” i mutter, tossing her phone back on the bed. “put a shirt on.”

paige doesn’t move immediately, still grinning like she thinks this is funny.

“now, p!” i urge, hitting her arm and scrambling toward my closet for a robe.

“aight, aight,” she finally says, scurrying over and grabbing a shirt off the back of a chair. she takes her time pulling it on, moving like this isn’t urgent, like we’re not one knock away from being exposed.

but then there’s another knock, louder this time. not from the front door—this one is right outside the bedroom.

the fuck?

i freeze, my hand still on the closet door, dread pooling in my stomach.

paige’s eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “yo, who has a key to your apartment?” she mouths, grabbing the polaroids and shoving them under the pillow in a panic.

i shake my head as if to tell her i wouldn’t know before squaring my shoulders, trying to channel a calm i don’t feel. If i act casual, maybe—just maybe—i can smooth this over. except i don’t know who it is. we don’t know who it is. i tie the robe around myself and open the door slowly, preparing for the worst.

and there she is. cameron brink.

her arms are crossed as she scans the room, and she doesn’t have a reaction to paige’s presence in the slightest bit. i speak first. “how’d you—“ i start, but she cuts me off, holding up a pink key decorated with yellow daisies attached to her keychain.

well, shit.

“i had a feeling i’d need this,” she says coolly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “and your locations.” her eyes flick over my robe, then to paige standing awkwardly by the bed, and then back to me.

“bye, paige,” she says pointedly, not even giving her the courtesy of a glance as she busies herself by stuffing her keys into her purse.

paige hesitates, looking between me and cam, clearly debating whether to say something. i’ve got my own arms crossed, chewing down on my lip like a kid in trouble. she takes the hint, and finally, she steps toward me, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before grabbing her phone and heading toward the door. “i’ll… catch you later.”

if it weren’t for the predicament we were in, i’d call her adorable.

the door closes behind her, leaving me alone with cam, and i don’t even have to look at her to know what’s coming.

“really?”

i roll my eyes, crossing my arms tighter against my chest. i shouldn’t be upset with her though. i’m deflecting. “you stalking me now?”

cam smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “i came to apologize for what happened at the bar,” she says. “in person, because i haven’t seen you. but now i know why—you’ve been busy.” her voice has something etched in it, almost like she’s disappointed in me, but at the same time, knew.

i look away, fingers curling around the fabric of my robe. “it’s not like that,” i mutter, but even i don’t believe it. not really. it is like that. and maybe i’m just too tired of pretending i can stay away.

“isn’t it? i thought you were done with her,” she says, her brows raising like she’s daring me to lie.

i let out a breath, awkwardly keeping my hands to my sides as i sit on the edge of the bed. “me too.”

“then why is she leaving your apartment like a one-night stand?”

“because—” i start, but the words stick in my throat. what was i supposed to say? that seeing paige nearly every day had unraveled every ounce of willpower i had? that being around her felt like falling into an old habit, comfortable and impossible to resist?

“you try having your ex-girlfriend get drafted to the team you work for,” i say finally.

still, she rambles. “and maya?” cam presses. she’s so worried about it you’d think it was her problem. “they’re seeing each other, you know that, right?”

i close my eyes for a moment, guilt clawing at my chest. that wasn’t fair. “we haven’t…” i trail off, shaking my head. “we haven’t been thinking that far.”

cam exhales, hand running down her face. “that’s the problem, nai. you’re not thinking.”

her words settle into the room, a bit harsh for me to hear, but not untrue. and maybe that’s what stings the most—that i’ve been avoiding this conversation with myself for weeks. the truth is, i haven’t thought about anything beyond the way paige makes me feel when she’s close, the way her voice drops when she says my name, the way her hands feel like they’re meant to pull me back in no matter how far i run. i haven’t thought about maya, about what it would mean for her to find out, about how i’d explain myself if it came to that. i haven’t thought about the job i fought so hard to get, and how quickly it could all fall apart if this got out.

i look at cam. she looks like she’s seen this all before. she hasn’t. she hasn’t even seen half of it and wants better for me. she loves us both, i know that. but apart better than together.

i bite my lip, frustration pooling in my gut as i try to put my thoughts together. somehow, the only thing i can think about is how this isn’t just paige and i’s secret anymore, and i should fight to keep it under wraps until we figure it out. “please don’t tell maya,” i plead.

cam looks at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she sits down beside me, close but not touching. “you know i won’t.” i feel a sense of relief. “but promise me you’ll start thinking. about how this affects your job. about you.” she chuckles dryly, emphasizing that i don’t really have a choice.

i suppose she’s right. she is right.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

-----

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

[sainteclectic]

npd soul is also very good! I'm partial to npd mind personally, something about his unrelenting standards for himself and others, need for logical perfection, and overall sense of self-importance despite denying himself weaknesses that make up that "self." he denies that he has emotions because that would make him less perfect. that would be a flaw, and he can't have those. he's the logical one, the most efficient one, not the petty one with a bruised ego. I've seen others talk about this headcanon nd I think it's neat.

I like aspd heart, though I don't have any clear evidence to point to. I think it would fit in the themes of nuanced mental health discussion. let the heart have the disorder many deem "heartless"- but beyond that personal reasoning, I think his disregard for conventional rules but strong sense of personal morals, willing to do things people deem as "immoral" for what he believes is just, along with his lack of considering consequences for those actions is something to consider.

contrary to popular belief, many people with aspd have a strong moral code. it's something a lot of them will discuss! they don't have any regard for conventional morality as defined by the justice system, but a lot of them have their own personal codes. it might not be what you consider moral, but they're not entirely without morals like people believe. for example, someone with aspd may be aggressive towards people they perceive as weak because of their belief in survival of the fittest (rather than what most see as senseless malice). heart displays this in a way by doing something many consider immoral because of his strongly held conviction that mind's attitude is harmful. it's not a good action to take, but he's acting out of what he believes is just.

they're talked about like aimless monsters, and some medical associations even discourage giving them psychiatric help, and recommend that aspd not be treated at all unless court ordered. this pushes more of them into the industrial prison complex, which further stigmatizes aspd as the "evil person disorder." so on a personal level, I want to offer a chance for positive representation that these people so rarely get.

bpd soul propaganda

his relationships with heart and mind are extremely tumultuous. he alternates between encouraging support and harsh criticism. he wants them to be close and loves them, but he's easily frustrated by their conflict and despises them for it.

he seeks a stability that seems impossible for him to achieve. when he doesn't feel like he can be stable, he threatens suicide because it feels like his only option. suicidal and self-destructive behavior is really common in bpd, especially in response to interpersonal distress and instability.

he has very little sense of self. identity isn't something he feels like he has the right to have (since personal separation is contradictory to trying to be Whole), but also, it seems like something he just can't get a grip on even if he tried.

I think that he has extreme attachment issues in concord. he's terrified that things will go wrong again, worried one of them will get hurt or disappear whenever he's not keeping an eye on them. he wants to know exactly where they are and be told when they're leaving because otherwise he'll panic about their absence.

on that note, his fears of hurting them or ruining things when things seem stable are something a lot of people with bpd struggle with. there's this underlying fear that the things "inherently wrong with you" will ruin everything you touch, either because of personal experience or internalized demonization.

if you headcanon Whole as a distinct person, that would be his favorite person. the extreme, almost religious idealization and having your entire sense of self revolving around a person (or really, the perception of perfection you have of a person) is a clear sign of having a favorite person. the abandonment issues would also be the worst with Whole, for obvious reasons

also i think it would be neat if this was a more widespread concept

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-one preview

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. For some reason, you hesitate to move, lying frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door, or if he did it for you. So you feel more certain they won't try anything.

Only after you hear his shuffling around as he lays down do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the swollen darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. A hand sweeps through your hair as you audibly exhale. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. A grumbled swear, then more shuffling. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

You bite your lip. Relief sits in place of the slight uncertainty since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but it sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. Risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now in the morning. On the nightstand beside you, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet silently padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them-before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. 

[anniebeemine]

lil thanksgiving day blurb<3

When Spencer agreed to join you for Thanksgiving, you were thrilled. It seemed like a great idea—two friends spending the holiday together, enjoying each other’s company. You’d always enjoyed Spencer’s company, his sharp wit and endless stream of fascinating facts. But it wasn’t until the morning of Thanksgiving that the full weight of what you were doing really hit you. This wasn’t just a casual get-together; it was Thanksgiving. A holiday. And suddenly, the whole thing felt a lot more intimate than you had anticipated.

The rest of the BAU had all scattered to spend the day with their families. Hotch had taken Jack to see his grandparents, JJ and Will were attending a big family dinner in Louisiana, and Rossi had some elaborate plans involving an old friend and an even older bottle of wine. Even Garcia, who you might have expected to be at a loose end, had a trip planned to some tropical destination.

That left you and Spencer, the only two without concrete plans. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal when you’d casually asked Spencer what he was doing for the holiday. You had fully expected him to say he was going to Las Vegas to visit his mom, Diana. But when he mentioned that his mom was on a cruise this year, your heart sank a little. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he might be alone.

Trying to keep your tone light, you asked, “So, what are you going to do?”

Spencer had shrugged, his usual nonchalant way of downplaying things that might be bothering him. “I don’t really have any plans,” he said. “I figured I’d just catch up on some reading or maybe organize my bookshelves. Nothing special.”

Your heart clenched at the thought of him spending Thanksgiving alone with a book. You knew how much he loved reading, but the holiday was supposed to be about warmth, connection, and being with people you cared about. Without thinking too much, you blurted out, “Why don’t you join me for Thanksgiving? I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but it’d be nice to have some company.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the offer. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied, smiling to reassure him. “I’d love to have you.”

Panic set in as you realized you hadn’t really prepared for this. The idea of throwing together a simple meal now seemed woefully inadequate. You scrambled to put something together, rushing to the grocery store only to find it completely void of turkeys, which is ridiculous for the morning of the most turkey-centric holiday. It seemed the universe had conspired against your last-minute efforts. So, you grabbed a chicken instead, reasoning that it would have to do.

Back at home, you spent the rest of the morning in a flurry, trying to make everything perfect. You set the table, trying to strike a balance between casual and special, but as you laid out the dishes, the realization dawned on you: you were doing too much. The table looked like you were hosting a formal dinner, not just a simple meal with a friend. You started to feel self-conscious, like maybe you had jumped the gun, turning this into something more than what it was meant to be.

Just as you were second-guessing every decision you’d made, Spencer walked in. You turned to greet him, but the look on his face as he took in the table made your heart sink. You felt like you’d overdone it, pushed things too far too quickly. He looked surprised, maybe even a little overwhelmed, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck, and you could feel your damp hair sticking to your forehead, a testament to the warm kitchen and your frantic efforts. One hand was still encased in an oven mitt, the other clutching your apron, which had absorbed some flour and grease from your earlier cooking. Before he could say anything, you blurted out an apology.

“Sorry, I think I might’ve gone a little overboard,” you said, fidgeting with the napkin in your hand. “I guess I got a bit carried away…”

You could feel your heart racing, and the heat of embarrassment mixed with the warmth of the kitchen made you feel even more flustered. You were worried he’d think you were trying too hard or that you were making a bigger deal out of this than it was supposed to be. The casual vibe you had envisioned seemed to have evaporated into something more formal, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d overstepped.

Spencer blinked, then looked down at the flowers he was holding. He gave you a small, awkward smile. “I was actually worried these might be too much,” he admitted, handing them to you.

You both stood there for a moment, each uncertain of how the other would react, but then you both laughed—soft and relieved. The tension eased, and suddenly, it all felt okay. It wasn’t about overdoing it or trying too hard. It was about the two of you, together, making the best of what could have been a lonely holiday.

“You didn’t overdo it,” he reassured you, his voice warm and sincere. “It’s perfect.”

With a smile, you took the flowers from him, your earlier worries fading away. They were a beautiful mix of colors—deep reds, bright yellows, and a few delicate whites—and they instantly brightened the room. You placed them on the table, feeling a sense of satisfaction as they added a lovely touch to the already charming setting. Maybe it wasn’t the most traditional Thanksgiving, but it was yours, and in that moment, it felt just right.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 17 - Maybe Tomorrow Is a Better Day

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.6k words. If you had to spend sometime recovering anywhere the Scottish highlands are not a bad place.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (nesting), hurt/comfort, nightmares, PTSD, mental health, sex, anal sex, oral (m receiving), handjob, fingering. 

AN: With Christmas coming up updates might be a bit slower.. sorry :/

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

1 week later 

You like Scotland. Johnny’s house is nice: there’s a pond out front, and it’s about a kilometre or so from a loch. It’s cold, but you don’t mind. You like spending time outside. You like that there are no walls around you—well other than the back garden, but Johnny says it’s to keep the wildlife off his plants.  There’s nothing planted now though, since it’s not the right time of year. Too cold. 

No base walls though, no guards or strangers. You could leave anytime you want. The house is isolated and surrounded by open fields and sparse forests. It’s different from Washington; the trees are different, the smells, the noises, even the grass. You wake early most days when the morning fog is heavy in the air and dew coats the grass. 

You like having alone time. You wake just as the sun is coming up. You make yourself tea and sit out in the back garden watching the sun rise until someone else gets up. Usually it’s John first. He always wakes up early. He smiles at you from the kitchen and then goes for a run. 

Then Simon and Johnny are usually next. They come out to sit with you but not for too long. As soon as John is back Simon goes for a run. You feel bad. You remember Kyle telling you that John insisted on there always being an alpha in the house.

You don’t understand why. There is no chemical anymore, no more people who will ever be exposed. With Dr. Piper gone, there’s never going to be a cure either. That makes you feel bad. You know how badly they wanted a cure. 

This morning feels particularly cold. There’s frost on the ground and you can see your breath in the air. You don’t really care, letting the tea warm your body. This time it’s Johnny who’s up first. He spies you from the kitchen, smiling, then comes out with a mug in his hands.

“It’s going to start getting really cold soon. You might have to take your tea inside so you don’t get sick.” He smiles, sitting down across the table from you. You don’t care how cold it gets, you like the freedom of being outside.

“I like the cold,” you say while taking a sip of your tea.

“You haven't made a nest yet,” Johnny says as a matter of fact. You don’t know what to say. You haven’t felt ready yet. You’re worried if you make a nest it might get destroyed. You had left behind the last nest you made. 

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it,” you say. That’s a lie, though: you have. There’s a space in the living room by the fireplace under a window. You want to be near the massive floor to ceiling bookcase. There’s an ottoman there now but you would move it. Maybe you do need to build a nest. Maybe it will help. 

“Well, me and Simon were thinking about going to town later. If you want to come we could look for some things?” 

“Sure,” you say. Johnny raises his eyebrows. You haven’t left the confines of the house or the back yard. Maybe he expected you to say no and he was going to have to convince you. You wanted to say no. You already feel like you’re regretting it. You like the solitude of Johnny’s house; it's secluded, quiet and away from anything or anyone.

You try to remember how far away the nearest town is, but you really have no idea. You look into the kitchen and see John moving around. He looks up and smiles, like he always does. You look back down, gripping your cup tighter. 

“Have you spoken to John yet?” Johnny asks. Your eyes flick up to him and you bring the mug to your lips. You don’t want to talk to him. You’re not ready yet. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You miss him. Just thinking about him makes a knot form in your stomach. 

It’s your job to keep the threads tight, it’s your job to keep the bonds strong. You miss John, but you’re just not ready. 

“I will, it’s just hard.” You take another big gulp of tea, letting it warm your throat. He looks at you pressing his lips together like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. 

“He misses you,” he says after a few seconds. It makes you feel guilty. You’re being a bad omega. You should just push your feelings to the side and be there for him. It’s not like you had a choice with Professor Hale. 

You stand up, ignoring Johnny’s attempts at apologies as you head back into the kitchen. John is still standing there, leaning against the sink. You place your mug on the kitchen island. You look up at him. His eyes never leave you as he brings his mug to his mouth. 

You open your mouth stepping forward like you want to say something. You don’t know what to say. You’re not ready to forgive him yet. Images of Dr. Piper's blooded face flood into your head. 

He did that. He could have stopped her. 

He could have stopped her. 

You storm out of the room down the hall up the stairs. You don’t know why it makes you so angry. You just want to run. 

“You alright?” Simon asks as you almost bump into him in the hallway. 

“I’m fine,” you snap. Your head is pounding as you look around, and you’re confused for a second looking for your room. Simon steps closer to you, his hand landing on your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. You snap back to reality looking at him. He’s frowning at you. You nod and turn to your room. You close the door behind you rushing over to the window to breathe in the cold morning air. 

There’s a knock at the door snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m fine,” you call back. There's a shakiness to your voice. You’re not ready yet.

The door opens anyway. You know it’s Simon, he only opens it a crack.

“You wanna leave the door open a bit. These doors are old, could get stuck and then we’ll have to break you out,” Simon says. You smile. You know that's not the real reason. None of them will admit the real reason though. 

“Thank you,” you say, then hear him moving away. His scent wafts into the room, filling your nose with gunpowder and the ground after rain. He did that on purpose, for you. He does such a good job at protecting his scent. 

You step away from the window sitting down on your bed. You look at Piper’s scarf tied to the bed head. It barely smells of her anymore. You run your fingers over it and it makes you upset. You look away. 

Now you wish you had a nest.

You don’t even realise how long it has been or how late it is until Johnny knocks at your room door. You finish the last page of the book you're reading and get up, your limbs stiff from being curled up in the rocking chair. 

“Hey, ready to leave?” he asks as you open the door. You nod, picking your jacket up from the back of the door.

“How did you like the book?” he asks, as you walk down the stairs. 

“It was okay.” You look down at it, some kind of romance book you picked for the pretty house on the cover. It just made you miss John. Maybe you need to stay away from those kinds of books for a while. You hang your jacket over the bannister and go into the living room to put the book away. 

When you walk in you see John and Kyle on the sofa, John’s arm is thrown round the back with Kyle angled slightly towards him. They both smile at you as you walk past the TV in silence to put the book back on the shelf. 

“Going down town?” Kyle asks. You nod trying your best to keep your eyes away from John. Kyle stands up reaching into his pocket and handing you something. You walk over to accept it. It’s a piece of folded up paper. 

“Shopping list.” He smiles. You nod back at him and head for the door to leave. 

“Have fun,” John says. You freeze, turning back to look at him. He’s smiling. You press your lips together and nod back at him before walking through the door. 

The room is empty again. John waits till he hears the front door close before getting up. Kyle follows him as John looks out the window watching everyone get into the car. Kyle opens the front door watching as the lights come on and they start to drive away.

John comes behind Kyle as they watch the car leave. He slips his hands around his waist pulling him up against him. 

“I could have gone instead of Simon,” Kyle says. John just hums, pressing his face into Kyle's neck, breathing him in. 

“I wanted to spend some time with you,” John says as Kyle turns in his arms. He keeps his hands on Kyle’s waist pressing his fingers into his soft skin. 

“You’ve done such a good job taking care of the omega, you deserve someone taking care of you,” John says leaning in and planting his lips on Kyle’s. It doesn’t take long for him to sink into the kiss letting his hands run up John’s shirt. 

John pulls him inside without breaking away from the kiss, closing the door behind them. Kyle is already getting needy, rubbing his thumbs over John’s nipples, who moans into his mouth. Kyle drags his tongue across Johns as his heels hit the bottom step. 

“C’mon,” John says, breaking away so he can lead Kyle up the stairs. They make their way into the master bedroom. John hoped he would be sharing this bed with you. Instead it feels empty at night. 

Kyle presses past him making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. John smiles walking over, his hand comes up to brush Kyle’s cheek. 

“It’s been too long. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” John says, running his hands over Kyle's head. Kyle's arms come up to John’s waist, he presses his fingers into his skin. 

“It’s okay, I know things haven’t been easy,” Kyle says, running his hands back up Price’s shirt.

“I should have made time,” he says, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

“You’re making time now, that's what matters.” Kyle kisses his stomach, dipping his thumbs past John's waistband. He moves his hand to the front of John’s pants as he cups Kyle's face.

Kyle unbuckles John’s pants, undoing the button and letting them fall down. Kyle hums running his hand over John’s hardened cock, mapping it out over the fabric. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he says, pulling Kyle’s face up to look at him. 

“Yeah, you’ll get a turn,” Kyle smiles. Without moving his eyes he pulls John’s boxers down letting his cock spring free. John lets out a sigh looking down at Kyle who moves his hands to grip around his member. He rolls his thumb over the head, making John twitch in his hands.

Kyle doesn’t wait for long, his eyes going shiny and his mouth filling with saliva. He wets his lips, taking John in his mouth. Kyle hums as he takes him all the way to the hilt. It makes John’s head tip back letting out his own moan as he throbs in Kyle’s mouth.

“I’ve missed your lips, your mouth. Christ, we should have done this sooner,” John breathes, his cock hardening, forcing Kyle to slow down. Kyle just hums. John looks down at him. His arms have wrapped around his waist. His nails dragging up and down his back make goosebumps rise on his body.

John lets himself relax, spreading his legs slightly while Kyle’s tongue presses hard, running up and down the underside of his cock. John moans, his hand moving to the top of Kyle’s head. He can’t help gently pushing on his head making sure he takes him all the way. His hand moves down his head to his neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive skin. Kyle moans causing John to groan as the smell of vanilla fills the room.

Kyle pulls off him, saliva dripping down his chin. John sighs smiling as his hand comes around to cup his chin letting his thumb smear the saliva across Kyle's lips. 

“On the bed,” he orders, his voice rumbling. Kyle nods, pulling his shirt over his head before turning and crawling up on the bed. John runs his hands over Kyle's body as he turns lying flat on his back.

John bends down, unclipping Kyle's belt and buttons, grabbing his waistband, pulling the rest of his clothes off and throwing them over the chaise longue in the room. Kyle’s cock springs up. He’s wet, swollen, tip shiny with precum. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous ain’t you,” John says, running his hand up Kyle's body leaning over him. He takes his time pinching his nipples, letting his hands map out each muscle and scar. The further down he gets the more kisses he leaves on Kyle’s skin, sucking on his sensitive spots leaving his mark. 

John reaches Kyle’s cock rubbing his thumb over the tip spreading the precum down his shaft. 

“So perfect, so pretty,” John says, pumping Kyle's cock causing him to tip his head back moaning out John’s name. “That’s it, keep making those pretty little noises and I'll make you feel good. You’ve worked so hard, you deserve to feel good.” 

“Anything for you, sir,” Kyle breathes, already sounding blissed out as John moves to kneel between his legs. He presses his thumb under the head of his cock, pulling his foreskin back and pressing his lips against his swollen tip.

John takes Kyle all the way making sure to wet the whole length, his chin resting on Kyle’s balls. It feels good having Kyle in his mouth. It’s a familiar feeling, something John can relax into, letting his guard down completely. 

The smell of vanilla fills the air, Kyle’s moans getting louder. Each one makes John’s cock twitch. He’s getting impatient. He needs to be inside Kyle, feel him tightening sround his dick, fucking him deep and long. That’s what he needs right now, a good hard fuck to clear his head.

He pulls his mouth off of Kyle looking over at his head still thrown back on the bed, his hands bunching the bedding. 

“Turn over,” John says, gripping Kyle’s waist to flip him. Kyle shuffles up the bed reaching over to the bedside table drawer. John was already gathering up saliva in his mouth as Kyle hands him a bottle of lube.  

“Ready for everything, huh?” John asks, throwing it down on the bed next to him, he wants to work him open some first, pressing his fingers in his mouth wetting them. Kyle hums, pressing his ass in the air, almost like you do when you’re presenting for him. It makes the hairs stand on the back of his neck. He pushes the thought of you away. He’s spending time with Kyle now.

“Open up for me,” John says, pressing his fingers against Kyle's hole. John works his fingers in, a moan rising from Kyle as he grips the bedding. John curls his fingers hitting the soft spot that makes Kyle press his face deeper into the bed. 

The beautiful moans make John’s cock throb as he works Kyle open letting his palm slam against Kyle’s skin. 

“You can take one more,” John says, pressing his lips on Kyle’s back teasing him with a third finger.

“Sir—” 

“Come on Kyle, you can take it,” John says, his voice grumbling from the back of his throat. It’s almost an order. An order Kyle follows, relaxing so John can press another finger into him. Kyle moans, almost screaming into the bedding as John speeds up. 

John reaches over and picks up the bottle of lube popping open the cap with one hand. He can’t wait any longer; he needs to feel Kyle clenching around his cock milking him until there’s nothing left. John takes his hand out using it to squirt lube over his cock smearing it around before lining himself up. 

“Such a good boy,” John breathes as he eases into him, letting out a satisfied moan to match Kyle. “ Oh fuck—” John breathes shifting on his knees so he’s in a better position. Kyle’s hands are still gripping the sheets, his head turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut. 

The smell of vanilla is thick in the air. They’ll have to open a window when they’re done. For now John doesn’t care, he slowly starts to buck his hips letting Kyle get used to him for a few thrusts. Then he reaches around his waist finding his cock and running his hand down the length. 

With the way Kyle is reacting to his body John’s not quite sure how long he’s going to last. He lets himself relax though only focusing on Kyle and his sweet moans, his incoherent babbling as John pumps his length. 

He wants to see Kyle, wants to look into his eyes when he cums. 

“Turn over for me,” John says, pulling out as he hears Kyle groan in protest. He turns over laying on his back spreading his legs. John steps off the bed hooking his arms under Kyle’s knees and pulling him to the edge.

John presses back up against Kyle's hole letting his tip tease him while he gets comfortable. 

“Look so pretty down there for me,” John says, his scent thick in the air. So is Kyle's, and it's making John's head spin. Kyle barely responds, humming something incoherent as he looks up at John. His eyes are glossy, his lips wet and puffy. John leans over and kisses him sucking on his bottom lip before standing back up again. 

He presses into Kyle watching as he arches his back. John’s hand presses on his abdomen pushing him down before wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock. This time he quickly speeds up trying to match his thrusts with pumping Kyle’s dick. John’s hand is smeared in precum, adding the wet sounds mixed with their moaning.

Kyle's hand lazily comes on his chest brushing his nipples making him clench around John. It feels like fireworks. John groans, tipping his head back trying to focus on not cumming so quickly. He wants to stretch this out for as long as he can. 

Kyle is pulling on his nipples, squeezing them before running his thumb over them. 

“Close,” Kyle stutters, back arching. John squeezes the base of his cock, running his thumb over his balls. 

“Already?” John teases, slowing down his thrusts. He watches as more precum drips down his hand. “C’mon you can take it, a little longer.” John’s voice is low, the air filling with the smell of leather as he slowly builds up speed. 

Kyle looks up at him, and John can see the glint in his eyes. He leans over and his free hand comes up to rub Kyle’s cheek. Kyle turns his head kissing it, trying to suck on his fingers in a desperate attempt to get John to let him cum.

“Wait,” he says suddenly as he sits up in the bed wrapping his arms around John. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” John smiles as Kyle pulls off of him and scoots further into the bed patting for John to join him. John lays down letting his head sink into the pillows, his hand gently stroking himself as he watches Kyle who swings his legs over John straddling his waist. 

“Easy there, soldier,” John coos, running his hands over Kyle's thighs, squeezing them. Kyle reaches around grabbing John’s cock angling himself then guiding John into him. John’s head tips back into the pillows as they both shuffle their bodies getting comfortable. 

“Such a big strong alpha taking care of the pack,” Kyle says with a cheeky grin on his face, running his fingers up John’s chest as he bounces up and down on his cock. John looks up at him. There’s a twinkle in his eye. Shivers run up and down his body. His cock twitches, and Kyle clenches around him.

“Christ,” John breathes closing his eyes as the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. The scent of leather fills the air as John and Kyle chase the peak. John’s fingers dig into Kyle’s thighs gripping him tightly. Kyle pumps his cock with each bounce, and suddenly his movements become uneven, more desperate.

“Fuck sir—” Kyle calls John’s name as he cums, thick ropes shooting across John’s chest. John cums a few seconds later forcing Kyle down onto him as he fills him up, each throb causing him to grunt as he tries to normalise his breathing.

Kyle's eyes open and he looks down at John smiling. 

“Like being called a strong alpha?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. John chuckles, shaking his head. Kyle leans down to kiss him, then he sits back up bracing his hands on John’s chest like he’s about to get off him. 

“No, you’re not done yet,” John says, running his hands up Kyle’s thighs. 

“Want to go again old man?” Kyle teases, getting up anyway to move next to John. Kyle hums, tracing his fingers across John’s abdomen, feeling John shiver under his touch until his hand makes its way to John’s cock. 

“Yeah, I could go again.” 

Kyle smiles. 

You’re driven to a small town about an hour from the house. The whole place looks picturesque: cobblestone roads and massive stone brick buildings. It’s almost like something out of a fairy tale. The whole town is surrounded by long fields and evergreen woods. 

As you drive down the main road you can see shops on both sides. There’s a carpark at the end of the road and a massive building with colourful windows and a huge bell on the top. Simon parks and you all get out. Your eyes are drawn to everything. There’s a cafe right next to the carpark with massive curved wooden windows that look hundreds of years old.

You end up grabbing Johnny's arm as he leads you round to the main street where the shops are. There’s a post office and various other shops, anything from clothes stores to what look like furniture stores. At the end of the street there is another fountain and a modern looking building with two entrances: one says NHS the other Tesco. The seemingly never ending gloom that hangs over the Scottish sky seems warm and cosy now with the shop lights spilling out onto the road. There are no cars, just people, dogs. You can hear music coming out from the cafe, gentle tunes that add to the atmosphere. It’s beautiful. 

“Where do you want to go first?” Johnny asks as you stop on the corner of the main street. You look up at him still trying to take it all in. He smiles at you, tipping his head. You squeeze his arm looking back down the road. There are a few people around: a group waiting at the bus stop, a woman with a stroller and a group of older ladies at the cafe.

“I don’t know,” you say. Everywhere, you want to go everywhere.

“There’s a book shop or we could go to the charity shop to see if we can find anything for your nest.” You look back down the street. 

“The book store,” you say. Johnny’s arm comes around your waist as he guides you down the road. 

“I’ll go to Tesco,” Simon says as Johnny stops outside what you assume is the book store. You’re looking in the windows while they chat, not paying attention, your eyes drawn over the books displayed on stands. 

“C’mon lass, there’s more inside,” Johnny says, his hand gently pushing you in. You’re not sure what to even look for. You take a deep breath in. The place smells of books. The smell of ink and paper fills your nose. It’s a comforting smell. That's what you loved about the books in the bunker. It was one of the only places that didn’t smell sterile or full of chemicals. 

The place is dimly lit with orange lighting and dark wood bookshelves. It makes the whole place feel cosy. You walk over to one of the shelves running your fingers over the spines reading the names. There’s a sign at the top that reads ‘mystery’. You look for colours and names that stick out to you. You would buy the whole store if you could.

“What kind of things do you like?” Johnny asks. 

“I like fantasy, with worlds I can lose myself in. I like nature and exploration,” you say, pulling out a book and thumbing through its perfect, untouched pages. You don’t even realise Johnny has left your side until he comes back with a pile of books in his hands. 

“Got you some classics.” He shows you enthusiastically. You put the book in your hands back and take a look. The Lion and the Witch in the Wardrobe and Lord of The Rings. 

“There’s a lion in the wardrobe?” you ask, frowning at the book cover with some kids hugging a lion on it. 

“There’s a whole world in the wardrobe,” he winks. You smile nodding at him. You look back over to the shelf picking out a few more that seem interesting before going to pay. Johnny makes small talk with the man behind the counter. 

They talk so fast you almost can’t keep up with what they’re saying, their accents so thick it almost sounds like they’re speaking another language. You listen on in awe offering to carry the bag as you leave. Johnny won’t have it though, acting like the bag is suddenly the heaviest thing on the planet. 

You let him carry it and cross the road over to the charity shop. He walks you through to the back where there is furniture, pillows and blankets. You spot a fluffy looking blanket with animals printed on it. You pick it up along with a white fluffy pillow.

“I have some blankets at home, ones my mum and gran made. I could find them when we get back if you want?” he asks. You turn to look at him. You still have the blankets from the journey over. 

“You don’t have to, they’re your blankets,” you say squeezing the pillow. 

“It’s fine, they’re begging to be used for something.” He smiles, and you nod at him smiling back. 

This time when you pay it's a woman, an older woman but you’re convinced Johnny will flirt with anyone. When you step back outside it’s darker and there are lights strung up in the street. The place looks even more picturesque than when you were driving out here. You can see that the tops of the lamp posts are covered in massive green leaves with red berries.

“It’s really pretty,” you say, smiling, looking up at the lights. 

“Yeah, almost Christmas,” John says as he walks you back towards the car. 

“I’ve heard about that. The professor would always bring me a gift.” 

“A good gift?” Johnny asks. You nod.

“It was usually a book, it was the only time he would ever be nice to me or give me gifts.” 

“Not even on your birthday?” Johnny asks, sounding shocked. 

“No, that was always an important busy day.” You sigh, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. 

“Why?” Johnny asks as you cross the road over to the carpark. You suddenly feel a chill. You don’t really want to talk about it. 

“Oh you know, lots of tests, lots of surgeries. It’s always the same, a long painful day.” You let out a sigh bringing your arms around your chest as you walk over to the car. Simon is already there putting bags into the boot. 

“Do you ever want to talk about it?” Johnny asks, stopping suddenly. You stop and turn to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” you ask frowning. He tips his head coming over to grab your hand.

“You know, about what you went through in the bunker,” he says. You shake your head.  Dr. Piper tried to get you to talk about it sometimes but you never really wanted to. She said now you were out of the bunker it would be good for you but you had no idea where to start. 

What would you even say? Would they even care?

“I don't know if I want to,” you say. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. 

“That's okay, but if you ever want to talk you know where we are,” he says walking back towards the car. You squeeze his hand back. This has been a good trip. 

“Got everything?” Simon asks as Johnny places the bags in the back next to the food Simon has. You can’t help sneaking a look. You love watching Kyle cook. Sometimes he lets you help, but you think he just likes the company more. You nod, smiling at Simon as he closes the door. 

“John!?” You hear someone shout. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck and you turn around with Johnny and Simon. 

“John MacTavish is that you?” the man asks as he walks towards you. Johnny steps forward. He’s big, old, with scruffy clothes and a bright green beanie and scarf.  

“Henry, what are you doing out this time of day?” Johnny says, opening his arms for the man. The smell of alcohol hits your nose, you can tell the man is unsteady on his feet. 

“Who are your friends?” he slurs, trying to force himself past Johnny who moves his body blocking him. You’re suddenly nervous and you reach out gripping Simon’s jacket. He turns to look down at you as Johnny tries his best to move the stranger away. 

“C’mon,” Simon encourages you, guiding you into the car. He’s projecting his scent; it makes your head spin as he opens the back door and you climb in. As soon as you’re sat down you turn to look out the back at Johnny who has his hand on the guy's shoulder smiling at him. 

“What books did you get?” Simon asks, pulling your attention to him and you turn watching him turn the engine on. Your mind goes blank. He turns to look at you.

“Books, yeah. The lion in the wardrobe,” you say but the name doesn’t sound right.

“ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe ?” Simon asks. You nod. Johnny comes around the front of the car getting into the passenger seat. It makes you jump and you grip your seat-belt pulling it on. 

“Who’s your friend?” Simon asks Johnny. 

“Henry, local. You know the sort, kicked him out the pub for the landlady a few times.” Johnny shrugs. Simon hums as he drives the car out the car park. Johnny turns to look at you.

“Had a good trip?” He asks, smiling. 

“Yeah. I think I'm ready to make a nest,” you say smiling at him.

John’s laid up in the bed, the window open behind him. The cold breeze makes him shiver. The smell of vanilla and leather is almost completely gone now. All that fills the room now is the smell of the forest and the scent of Kyle’s beta.

Kyle pulls the duvet further over them, running his fingers across John’s chest under the bedding as they’re curled up next to each other. 

“She wants to forgive you,” Kyle says after a while. John turns to look at him. “She’s struggling without you. She thinks she can hide it but she can't.” 

“What do you mean?” John asks. Kyle sighs, moving his hand down to John’s stomach.

“She calls out for you in her sleep. I heard her talking to Johnny, she misses you. You claimed her, she’s your omega, that will never go away,” Kyle says, John sighs.

“I’m giving her space.” 

“She’s grieving but maybe some forced proximity would do you both some good.” 

“I don’t want to push her.” 

“It’s been almost a month. She needs you, and I know you need her.” John smiles at his words. 

“Don’t think you’re so subtle either, Cap. I see the way you act when she’s around or not around,” Kyle teases.

“Oh yeah,” John scoffs.

“Yeah, how you always sit so she’s in your peripheral. How your body language changes when she’s upset or happy. I bet you don’t even realise it,” Kyle explains chuckling.

“Maybe I’m getting soppy.” 

“You’ve always been soppy, sir,” Kyle says, propping himself up on his arm, running his hand down his abdomen. John smiles at him hearing the car pull back up outside the house. Kyle tenses propping himself up in bed. John puts his hand on Kyle's chest pushing him down. 

“Easy, take a nap. I’ll wake you up later,” John says, kissing his forehead. 

“She needs us,” Kyle says, sighing.

“She has Johnny and Simon. She'll be fine for a few hours. You need the rest,” John says, moving out of the bed to dress himself. He goes over to the window at the far end of the room. He can see Simon opening to boot to the car as you get out. 

You’re smiling as Johnny tells you something, his arm already finding its way round your waist. It warms John’s heart seeing you smile. It’s the first time he’s seen you smile in weeks.   

You walk in just as John is making his way down the stairs, your nostrils flare as the smell of leather fills your nose. Your eyes lock onto him, and a warmth builds deep in you. You’re just staring at him. He smiles at you.

“Price, a word?” Simon says as you blink swallowing the unbelievable amount of saliva that formed in your mouth. John nods, walking past you and following Simon into the kitchen. You can feel your cheeks burning as you take a step to the stairs. 

“Here, your books and blankets. I’ll put the ones we have in the living room,” Johnny says. You nod heading up the stairs. John's door is locked; you can’t help walking up to it and taking a deep breath in. You can smell the lingering scent of vanilla and leather. You close your eyes breathing it. 

It makes your head feel fuzzy, the burn in your core is almost an ache. You miss him. You want to be mad at him a little longer. Or maybe you don’t, maybe it’s time to move on. You turn walking into your room. You put the bags down going over to Piper’s scarf you have tied to the bed head. 

You run your fingers over it. You can barely smell her scent on it anymore. Maybe it really is time to move on. The burn in your core is replaced by a heavy feeling in your chest. 

You’re not quite ready yet.

Later after dinner when everyone has gone to their rooms you decide you want to build your nest. You sneak out of your room as soon as you hear the last door close. The only person who keeps their room door open is John. Maybe it’s a soldier thing, or maybe it’s an open invitation for you, whenever you’re ready. 

Either way there is no light coming out of the room. You try really hard to listen around. You can’t remember which floorboards creak and this house is old. You’re gripping blankets and pillows in your hands. You squeeze them against your chest as you slowly tip-toe down to the ground floor. All the lights are off and the building is dark.

When you make your way into the living room you see the pile of older looking blankets, on the ottoman exactly where you want to build your nest. You empty your arms onto the floor. You have to move the thing first. Luckily it’s on wheels and it’s not heavy. You pull it out of its place looking at the bare corner of the room.

You pick up the blankets off the ottoman. They’re thick and beautifully embroidered with flowers and animals. They had a musty smell to them but they smell homely. You put them down then sink to your knees reaching behind you to bring the rest of the blankets and pillows you bought around. 

You start to arrange things, the thick blankets first. The wooden floor is cold; you'll need a good bottom layer. You put the pillows down in the corner. It doesn’t feel right. It needs more. You’re already rearranging, spreading out the blankets more, fluffing the pillows even taking the extra ones from the sofa.

You feel like you’ve been working on it for ages, but each time you arrange it it still doesn’t feel right. It feels like an empty nest. Suddenly you’re distracted by a door opening. The door to the kitchen is open and you can see the rest of the lights come on.

You hold your breath craning your head to see into the kitchen. It's John he reaches up taking a glass out and you hear the sink. You look back at your nest, picking up another blanket and running your hand over it. You like the purple flowers on it. You hold it in your hand as you go over to the window above your nest.

You pull the curtain back and open the window. It’s cold, almost too cold. You can smell nature though letting the breeze make you shiver. You look out into the dark, closing your eyes and breathing it in. You can smell the woods, the damp ground, you can hear the lapping of the pond and the sound of creatures in the woods. 

“You okay?” The sudden noise makes you jump. You turn, seeing John standing in the doorway with a glass of water in his hand. You’re just staring at him squeezing the blanket in your hands like you’re clinging on to it for dear life. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, holding his hand up. He looks down at the pile of blankets and pillows. He stands outside the door. He knows better than to come in while you’re making your nest. You can’t keep avoiding him. It's been weeks, longer, since you’ve really been around him. 

“You didn’t scare me,” you say, kneeling back down. His eyes follow you as you put the blanket down and pick up another pillow.

“It means you feel safe right?” he asks like he doesn’t know. You nod, pressing the pillows before turning to look up at him. 

“I thought if the weather was nice tomorrow we could all go see the loch?” he asks. You do want to see the loch. You haven’t really been in the mood to do much. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, running your hand over the fluffy blue blanket. It’s almost perfect. 

“You know if there is anything you need you just have to ask,” John says. You smile. You don’t know why you’re sick of people telling you that.

“I know, thank you,” you say looking up at him. There’s a burn there, a throb in your heart. You miss him. You miss him just holding you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay. 

It’s going to be okay. You have to believe that. 

John stands there in the doorway watching you as you mess with your nest. It’s not going to be perfect, not until you have something from each of your pack, just like the nest you left in the US. It makes you feel sick knowing that nest will have been destroyed.

John lets out a sigh and you look over at him. He smiles at you, keeping his distance. 

“It’s late, you should sleep soon,” he says. You nod looking out the window at the night sky. The sky is so clear and dark you can see constellations spread above you. You feel like you could fall asleep forever under those skies. 

“I will,” you say nodding at him. You watch him leave. He turns walking back through the kitchen. Your nest is as good as it’s going to get for now. You pick up one of the handmaid blankets pulling it over your shoulders before climbing into the nest. 

You feel safe here and as soon as you can make it smell of your pack it will be perfect. 

You close your eyes. You’ll make it perfect. 

..

You wake to Kyle standing over you, his hand pressing on your shoulder. He’s smiling with a cup of tea in his hands. You sit up wiping the drool off the side of your face. Your body is stiff, and your muscles feel heavy. You slept well, and you feel good. He hands you the cup of tea. 

“You made a nest,” he says, going to sit over on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. You stand up wrapping the blanket around you and going to sit next to him. You take a sip of tea then put it down on the coffee table.   

“Yeah, it felt right.” You smile. He lays his arm round the back of the sofa. You look at him. His head turns to you as he takes a sip of the tea. You lean up against him, and his arm rests over your shoulder. 

“John thought we could take a trip to the loch today,” Kyle says. 

“Yeah, that would be nice. I would like to see it.” 

“We’ll take the car.” 

“I don’t mind walking,” you say looking up at him. He looks down at you and nods. You really don’t mind spending time in nature. Johnny walks into the room next with coffee in his hands. He looks over and sees the nest and smiles at you sitting down next to you. 

You sit there for a few minutes between them while you watch the news play on the TV. You look over at your nest. You do feel safe here, with all of them. Even John. 

“Would you two ever want to have sex with me?” you ask out of the blue before you can stop yourself. They both turn to you, looking between each other as they take in what you said. You regret it almost immediately, wishing you could take it back. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You lean up reaching over for your mug of tea. 

“Would you want to have sex with one of us?” Johnny asks. You turn to look at him. He’s giving you a choice. You never really thought you had one. They would all get a go eventually at least that is what you thought would happen. 

Would John share you around just like the Professor did?

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say feeling embarrassed, sipping your tea to try and hide the redness in your face. “I mean I’ve never had a choice.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks. 

“Professor Hale, he would invite his friends to be with me during my heats. Sometimes. It’s normal for an alpha to share their omega in a pack. At least that's what I was told.” You sigh, taking another sip of tea. Kyle's hand comes to rub the top of your back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Kyle says. 

“Why?” You frown at him. He looks over at Johnny, his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Johnny says, his hand landing on your thigh and squeezing it. 

“What made you ask?” Kyle says his hand rubbing your back. 

“I don’t know.” That's a lie; you do. You let out a sigh. “I know you’re all together. I thought it was just normal pack behaviour, but then I remembered you’ve only been exposed to the chemical recently.” 

“It’s normal for packs to all be, together with each other?” Johnny asks.

“Dr. Piper would be better at explaining it but yeah, if the alpha was okay with it of course.” You hang your head still feeling embarrassed. You can’t even remember what the original question was. You finish your tea reaching over and putting it on the coffee table. 

“Do you want to talk to John about it?” 

“No. Just forget it,” you say. Johnny starts to talk but the door opens. Simon steps in.

“Price said it’s going to rain later. If we want to go to the loch it has to be soon.”  Simon's eyes crease as he looks around you all. You get up, he steps aside for you and you head up the stairs. When you get to your room you change into the fluffiest, comfiest clothes you can find. 

What if you’ve ruined it all now? You should have not said anything. Why did you even bring it up? Because you miss John? Now you’re being silly. You should just talk to him. You catch Piper's scarf out the corner of your eye. 

No, not yet. It just doesn’t feel right.

When you make it back down to the hall, Johnny and Kyle are already standing with their coats on. 

“You sure you want to walk lass?” Johnny asks. You frown at him.  

“I thought you said it was close.”

“It is but it’s cold today,” he says. 

“I like the cold.” You smile, zipping your coat up. Johnny grumbles. Simon and John come out of the kitchen. 

“Soap, you can drive there in case we get caught in the rain.” He throws keys at Johnny who catches it and his expression changes. He seems happy about that. You follow him out with Kyle whose hand finds yours leading you past the pond to a dirt path. 

The walk is shorter than you expected. You cut through some woodland then follow an unmarked road for the rest of the way. It’s gloomy, the sun hidden by the darkening clouds. There’s fields with sheep which have colourful spots on them. Kyle talks the whole way, about how nice it is to be back in the calm countryside, how you would love a bunch of cities he lists off. 

You hear John and Simon behind you the whole way. They talk too but you don’t listen, your focus only on Kyle and taking in the countryside. You squeeze his hand now and again so he knows you're listening. 

It is cold. You can see your breath again but you don’t care. The walk is nice and you’re excited to see the loch. It’s been on your mind ever since you got here. You would see it in your dreams or what you imagined it would look like. It always looked like the little lake John would take you to on the base. 

This is way bigger. You’re almost skipping as you can see it through the tree line. You spot Johnny leaning against the car as you walk around letting go of Kyle's hand and speeding your pace to get to the edge of the water. 

The loch is massive. It goes as far as you can see. It’s almost like an ocean. There are waves too lapping up on the stony shore. Johnny comes behind you as you bend down picking up an almost perfectly round stone.

“What do you think?” he asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smile. You throw the stone letting it splash in the water. 

“Watch this,” Kyle says, throwing a stone but instead of splashing it bounces across the water. You gasp. 

“How did you do that!?” you ask enthusiastically. He bends down picking up another stone and does the same thing. This time it travels further before plopping into the water.  

“Pff, he’s showing off, watch this,” Johnny says, his arm leaving you as he does the same but with 2 stones at the same time. 

“No fair you had all your life to practice,” Kyle huffs. You can’t help but laugh. You haven’t laughed in what feels like forever. It's not even that funny, it just feels right. The noise almost sounds wrong, but it feels good, you let yourself laugh.

“Teach me,” you say, bending down and picking up a stone. As you stand back up to look across the lake you see white blobs slowly falling down, they’re picked up by the breeze and swirl around in the air. Confused, you look up at the sky, the clouds are sheets of white gloomy and swollen. You look down at the stone in your hand, the fluffy white blobs falling on your hand and disappearing. 

It’s snow. You’ve never seen snow before. 

You look up at Kyle smiling, the tufts laying on his hair. Then you look up at Johnny. He has the biggest grin on his face you think you’ve ever seen. You turn back to look at Simon and John standing a few metres behind you. John is smiling, a cigar between his fingers. Simon’s standing with his hands in his pockets. 

You let out a breath clenching your fist around the stone in your palm. You walk over to them. Your heart is thumping in your chest as you listen to the satisfying crunch of stones under your feet. The snow is coming down faster now and thicker. Are you really ready to do this?

“Do you know how to do that?” you ask them, sticking your hand out with the stone still in your palm. They look between each other. 

“Skipping stones? Yeah,” Simon says. 

“Bet you couldn’t beat me!” Johnny calls from behind. Simon tips his head letting out a sigh, taking the stone out of your hand walking past you. You look up at John who takes the cigar out his mouth. You smile at him. You’re still standing there as you hear more stones splashing on the water. 

“Thank you,” you say, watching the snow fall on his hat. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” He smiles. 

“Yes I do.” You hang your head for a second feeling heat rush to your cheeks. You look back up at him and he’s still smiling. His expression is soft. You breathe in his scent letting out a long sigh. 

“Want to judge who wins?” he asks, nodding behind you looking over your shoulder. You nod, turning back to see the three of them with their backs to you both, hands filled with stones flicking them over the water one by one. 

John’s hand rests on the top of your back. Maybe it is time to move on.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[v3lv3tsin]

bad time, good time: nishimura riki

| pairning: nishimura riki x reader

I genre: fashionmajor!niki, lawmajor!reader

I warnings: no warnings <3

I word count: 1.5k

I stefy's note: i know i should be focusing on the jungwon series but i suddenly got this idea at 3 am (i mean who isn't obsessed with korean convenience stores now lol), so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

"Towards the middle of the thirteenth century inquisitorial procedure..." You felt your eyes glaze over the page once again, trying to focus on the words once again. Finally checking the clock on the wall opposite to your desk on the right side, to your surprise it showed 2 am. 

No wonder why you felt tired in the first place. You've been studying and writing assignments ever since you woke up. Exams were coming soon so you couldn't and shouldn't be waisiting any time. Getting you out of your thoughts was the sound of your stomach rumbling which reminded you of your hunger. 

Shit. Yeah. Maybe some snacks and ramen would help. 

That's how you found yourself looking at the ramen isle in the small convenience not sure what kind of buldak ramen to have for dinner. Holding tightly onto the plastic glass cup filled with ice and the grape ade plastic bag you tiptoed hoping to reach the top shelf. You couldn't reach the one you wanted, before an arm extended from behind you and grabbed the ramen cup for you. 

"Here!" Niki said, handing the ramen to you. Turning around to take the cup ramen from his hand you're met with a pair of brown eyes. The mysterious man was tall from what you could grasp. 

Not wanting to stare for longer than expected, you answer. "Thanks." Pausing for a moment, you continue on the same surpirsed tone not expecting him to help you. "You didn't have to." Taking the cup ramen from his  hand you take another look at him. 

"Carbonara, huh?" Niki asked with a small grin on his face as he looks at the floor, then at your choice of noddles for dinner. It shouldn't be a surprise that you would choose the carbonara noodles since they're the best. Of course. 

Seeing your confused face he decides to tease you. "You might need some cheese for that." Niki points at the sides isle hoping to make you understand what he meant in the first place.  

"Yeah." You answer realizing that you forgot to get some cheese as buldak noodles are always better with a bit of cheese. Pausing to somehow manage to explain yourself you continue on the same confessing tone. "I totally forgot."

"I'm Niki, by the way." Niki says finally introducing himself, thinking it was high time he does so since you have been talking for some time now. 

Extending his hand you take it hesitantly before introducing yourself to him. "Y/N." Shaking his hand you give him a shy smile before turning to leave and get the cheese you talked about until then. 

"I guess i'll see you around." Niki adds seeing that you looked almost rushed to be anywhere but here. It was clear that he wanted to continue talking to you, but that was not the case for you. 

Or so he thought.

Laying down onto the bed tiredly you open the history book to get back to reading you think to yourself. "Niki." Taking a bite from the noodles followed by a sip of the grape ade you bought moments ago you decide to check his instagram, hoping to at least to find some more information about him. To say the least, you were curious.

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|  INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 15th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by wonkiten, byfsjy and 500 others

niki_kikiki ⏱️👔

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wonkiten he's not a baby mandu anymore

icehoon where's my credit

user01 THE SECOND PICTURE?! OMGG NI-KII 😫

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What the actual fuck? How does he look so handsome? And in a suit also. What's his major? 

Taking another bite from the noodles as you decide to check another photo from his instagram hoping to see him in a different outfit and a hint probably of his major. That's when you clicked on the most recent photo that he had posted only to see that it was posted 5 hours ago. 

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|  INSTAGRAM POST - 5 hours ago. 

niki_kikiki

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niki_kikiki 🪩

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catseong coolest dude i'm so serious

byfsjy WOAHH OKAYY BUDDY OKAY

user02 THE THIRD PICTURE HELLO!?!!!?

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As you were just about to take a sip of the grape ade you boughts hours ago seeing those pictures definetly shocked you. He looked so good. So hot.

Finally finishing your meal after taking one last look at Nikis instagram photos you get the history book that has been onto the bed the whole time. Looking over the pages trying to get back to reading the last word you remember is "Inquisition" before darkness steals your vision living you blind.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Days later you found yourself in the same convenience store looking at the same ramen isle trying to choose what to have for dinner. Shaking you off your thoughts, as you were about to reach for your usual carbonara buldak noodles is a deep voice, almost familiar. Behind you. 

Putting his hand against the metalic shelf, consequently trapping you between his body and the isle. "I didn't think i would see you again." Niki confesses in a low voice. 

Turning around to be met with the same dark brown eyes from two days ago as you slightly blushed. Tilting your head you look at him confused for a second as you didn't expect to see him either. Especially not at this hour. "Well i'm here."  You answer him not knowing exactly what to say. 

Coming closer with his body to yours, Niki extends his hand to take two carbonara buldak noodles cups. He was close. Too close. Taking both of the noddle cups into his hand and holding them into his hand Niki finally answers you. "I was thinking..." Pausing for a second to rub the back of his neck as he looked down onto the floor he continues in a low voice. "Maybe we could eat together here."

Holding onto the plastic cup filled with ice and this time, a peach ice tea you looked at him and then onto the floor blushing. One thing was for sure, that you didn't expect to hear him say that. Before you could answer him or at least let him know what you felt about this idea his deep voice interrupts you. 

"Here...I meant anywhere, not only here." Niki explains himself to you, hoping also for a positive answer. "We could eat somewhere else." Niki adds as he continues to explain himself to you. Giving you more ideas to where you two could eat together.

"I would love to" You answer him as you come closer hoping to calm him down as you could see that he wanted to continue talking. Looking at what he was holding into his hand you then decide to ask him in a teasing voice wanting to have less tension between the two of you. "Are you only getting ramen?"

"No, of course not." Niki answers before turning around to get a plastic cup filled with ice from the freezer only to be followed by you on his way. While you were walking to the freezer a jeonju bibimbap triangle kimbap caught your eye so you decide to take it. Turning around Niki eyes you before taking the plastic cup and his drink of choice, a caramel ice americano.

"Since we're eating together i was wondering maybe we could get some snacks." He suggests on a shy tone wanting to spend more time with you as the last time he wasn't able to. He wanted to get to know you.

Nodding you follow him to the chips isle where you took different kinds, some that you have tried before, some that you haven't. Laughing about your height was also Niki as most of the times you couldn't reach the top shelf. Finally reaching the register with the basket full of things you and Niki both wanted to try, when you wanted to pay he didn't let you, with the excuse that "it's on him."

It's not a date,right? It's a date. Is it?

Was all you could think of when he decided to pay for the food. Sitting down at the table at the convenience store as it started raining only yours and his laughs could be heard. Niki would mostly tease you about your snack choices or even the simple fact of what games you play.

Your prediction from days was true, he was in fact a fashion major. No surprise there. Niki would talk about how much he loves it because he is able to express himself. Later in the evening you found yourselves walking on the way to your apartment as he especially mentioned that "a girl shouldn't go alone so late at night."

Before entering the apartment, without any warning, you come closer to Niki with the original intent of kissing his cheek and saying "thanks a lot for the night." But he had other plans. That's when you could feel his lips on yours. You on your tiptoes having to reach his height as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Wow." Taking a deep breath after he pulled away that's all he could say. "I...." Pausing for a second he rubbs the back of his neck while looking at you before continuing. "I guess i'll see you around."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Days later you get a notification of a post you have been tagged on. Opening your phone, while in the middle of the contract law lecture you're surprised to see a photo of Niki and you, along with two other pictures of him with the outfit he wore that night. You didn't expect that, so it surely surprised you.

It was cute. He was cute.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

|  INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 20th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by yourusername, 01boy and 2000 others

niki_kikiki 🌃

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yourusername <3

01boy broo that's why you missed game night

ppysnoo cuties

user03 and now he has a girlfriend

USERNAMES GUIDE:

1. niki_kikiki = niki

2. wonkiten = jungwon 

3. catseong = jay 

4. icehoon = sunghoon 

5. byfsjy = jake 

6. 01boy = heeseung 

7. ppysnoo = sunoo

© V3LV3TSIN — do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[briardoll]

The Obey Me! Side datables (+ Luke) react to seeing your human form for the first time!

(This comes from the idea that you were actually in sheep form during the exchange program until you went back to the human world, scroll down through my posts for reference)

Also I’m so so sorry I was gone so long I lost motivation and couldn’t write anything for a while but guess what? We are so back!! (I might disappear again idk yet)

Diavolo finds that you look very close to what he thought you would (he already knew), he compliments your hair and your face and he likes your hands a lot. They’re so much smaller than his! Most people are smaller than him but you really take the cake, after all humans are much shorter and weaker physically compared to demons or angels, he asks you to stay for dinner with him and Barbatos and insists on treating you to a nice night in! A slumber party just for you and him, but don’t expect to do much that doesn’t come from the book ‘Youthful Fun 101”. Maybe try teaching him some human world memes! …Or don’t actually.. he might start saying them in the wrong situations out of context. Whoops.

Barbatos knew what you looked like but was still pleasantly surprised to see you look like you in person. He also enjoys your hands.??? What is with the royal palace and hands? He likes how they look holding pens, utensils, teacups, you name it. If you ask, he’ll select outfits that will make you look very elegant and classy, perfect for a date with the young Lord! Or him, if you’d be willing to wait for a break to be had. (aka a long long time, but if you do, you’re guaranteed to have a tremendous time)

Simeon heard your voice ring through purgatory hall, a thing his ears cherish, he turns to see a sweet yet unfamiliar figure standing in the doorway, a pretty smile on your face and the eyes he couldn’t stop staring into your eyes, they gave away your identity without you having to re-introduce yourself. “MC! You certainly look different today, please, come in, I’m making BLT’s for lunch, I’ll prepare one for you too!” You happily accepted his offer and lunch was great!

Luke got word that you had a bit of a surprise waiting in the kitchen, which is good because he’s been meaning to have you try the cupcakes he’s been tweaking the recipe to. Walking into the kitchen there’s… a random person? Is that you, or someone else? You see him and go to hug him, and say that you got his message about the cupcakes and will try them after lunch, but, he doesn’t care about that now, he’s more interested in your new style! The difference is astounding, your hair and your face and everything! You look like a real human! He thought you actually had pink hair so he was somewhat surprised it wasn’t actually lol.

Solomon is the first to see you, and since you have some alone time, he cups your face in his hands and moves them to run his fingers through your hair. He’s so in love it’s crazy, being with you makes him feel young, and somewhat like a.. normal human? The casualty between you makes him feel less like the great sorcerer and king Solomon, instead he feels like just, Solomon. With you nothing is boring, and if you want to really excite him, you can use those soft sweet lips to give him a kiss or two?

[faithshouseofchaos]

Please write about the shy reader and Kimi Raikkonen ❤️

Out of the shadows— Kimi Raikkonen x reader

Word count — 750

Fluff

The paddock was alive with the usual chaos—mechanics rushing to and fro, journalists shouting over each other, and fans clamoring for attention. Y/N stood awkwardly near the Ferrari garage, clutching her team lanyard like it was her only anchor in the storm of noise around her. She hated crowds. The constant hum of voices, the flashes of cameras, the feeling of being watched—it was all too much. But today, she’d promised herself she would try. Try to be more like the others—confident, outgoing, able to handle it all.

Her resolve was crumbling with every passing moment.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking for a quiet place to retreat when she heard a familiar voice.

“Why are you hiding here like a scared rabbit?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned quickly to see Kimi Räikkönen standing just a few steps away, holding a cup of coffee. He stood there in his usual casual way—arms loosely crossed, face impassive, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His presence was effortless.

“I’m not hiding,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down, fiddling with her lanyard. “Just… observing.”

“Observing?” Kimi repeated, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. He took a slow sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact. “From the shadows?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she bit her lip. “I… I just don’t like crowds.”

His gaze softened ever so slightly, but his tone remained as blunt as ever. “Neither do I,” he said.

She blinked. “But you’re always out there—racing, talking to the media…” Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish. Kimi never seemed to care about the constant attention. How could he be so composed?

Kimi’s eyes flickered to the bustling scene around them, but he didn’t look stressed, didn’t flinch. “Talking?” he repeated, his lips curling into something close to a grin. “No. I say what I need to, then I leave. Simple.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, processing his words. “You’re… different,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Everyone’s different,” he replied with a shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. “You think too much about what people think. Waste of time.”

She laughed softly, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him despite herself. She had expected more sarcasm, more indifference. But there was a strange clarity in the way Kimi spoke. He wasn’t trying to be profound, but every word seemed to cut through the noise.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said quietly. “I guess it’s easier for you.”

Kimi’s gaze softened just a touch as he regarded her, but his voice remained unaffected. “You think I don’t care?” he asked. “I care about what matters. I care about racing. But the rest of it?” He waved a hand in the direction of the media frenzy. “Pointless. Why stress about it?”

She found herself smiling—slowly, hesitantly—at his nonchalance. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He gave a single, short laugh—no warmth, just blunt amusement. “You overthink everything. You should laugh more. Better than all that worrying.”

Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease, if only a little. She glanced away, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. “I’ll try,” she said softly, not used to this kind of easy back-and-forth.

Kimi didn’t respond immediately, instead finishing his coffee before casually nodding toward the garage entrance. “Come on,” he said. “You don’t have to talk to anyone, just stand there. They’ll leave you alone.”

She hesitated, glancing at the noisy crowd, then back at him. Something about the way he said it—the matter-of-factness, the certainty—made her want to trust him.

She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “Okay,” she said, surprised at how easily the word slipped out.

They walked side by side toward the garage. The sounds of the paddock faded as she followed Kimi—no words passed between them, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the constant pressure of expectations. Kimi’s presence was quiet but steady, and though he didn’t say anything more, she didn’t need him to.

It was a strange feeling, to be standing there beside him, surrounded by noise, and yet, for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N realized—maybe it wasn’t so terrifying, stepping out of the shadows after all.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

............................................................................................................................

"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[amethystpath-writes]

Could you please write a story where a fae and a human have been friends for about a year. However, the human finds out what the fae is, and freaks out, thinking the fae is toying with him or wanting to make him his servant or something. When in reality, the fae had always watched humanity from afar, and just wanted to play along to see what it was like to have genuine friends?

Always excited to see you in my inbox, love! <3

Listening to Stars

******

"You lied to me?" The human's voice cracked, and the fae felt the emotion like a whip.

"I would never," he responded, void of tone. It took control from the fae, to not respond how he wanted. To cry, or to yell, or to do anything with an overtly amount of emotion. He wanted to say, 'I would never lie to you; I can't,' but that felt like rubbing the fact in his friend's face.

"I never said I was human," he said instead, and instantly came to regret it. Rather than stopping while he was ahead, and possibly keeping his friend, the fae continued. "I wanted a friend! A real one. The fae..." He looked at his feet, not able to look the human in its eyes, then shook his head. "The fae are full of trickery and deceit. I didn't- I can't be friends with them."

The human could only scoff in return, obviously hurt by the fae boy, hurt that the fae would keep this a secret for so long. "You think I don't know your ways? That I haven't been warned all my life of the games you play?" He muttered to himself in the next moment. "A year. A whole year." It was surely meant for the human's ears only, but the fae heard it and wondered if his freind wasn't upset at himself as much as him for being fooled. Not fooled. I wasn't tricking him.

"Of course," the human started again, "a year is just a blink of the eyes to you. How many of you were in on this?"

"In on...this wasn't some elaborate plan!" The fae felt a heat like fire rise to the tips of his ears. "You all think we have the answer to everything, don't you? That our magic makes us so knowledgeable that we're bored and turn to trickery to entertain ourselves."

"Sounds about right."

Heat spread to the fae's hands as he clenched them in tight fists. He wasn't sure exactly what he was mad at. It could have been himself for hiding this secret for so long, ruining any chance of continuing to be friends with the human. If he had been transparent from the start, this moment could have been avoided. Then again, how could he blame himself when it was at the rest of the fae which created this perception of their entire race.

“What will it take?”

“What?”

“What will it take for you to believe me?”

Thinking, the human squinted. “Show me what you really look like.”

What he looked like? “And what would that prove?”

“Nothing, I just want to see.”

He didn’t change his appearance. It would just confirm his likeness to his human friend and push him away even more. “I’m not going to-”

The human shrugged. “I guess I’ll be going then. Have fun tricking the next”- he gasped.

Pale blue skin, freckles like stars, and a wicked point of the ear.

“So, can you really read the stars like they say?”

“Read them?” The fae’s brow lifted, and for two reasons. One, reading the stars? What did that even mean? Two, he expected a larger reaction from his friend, with all his demanding and suggesting there was so much distrust between the two of them.

“Yeah, like a book. They say fae can hear the stars, the stories of their creation and demise.”

A rumour. Humans loved to make those about the fae. Then again, this wasn’t the worst one he’d ever heard them spread.

“I thought you hated my kind. Now all of a sudden you want to know if we can speak to the stars?”

“Listen, not speak. You can hear their stories, but they don’t respond. The fae have their limits,” the human boy explained.

“Fae can’t hear the stars!” What an elaborate lie to create about something the humans know nothing about. “Your kind fears mine and here you are saying we talk- listen- to the stars? What do you even know of fae that’s true?”

A new argument sparked. “And what have you heard of humans?” Or so the human boy thought. He expected his friend to say something about pitchforks and torches or maybe even the fights that break out in pig pins, outside of village inns.

“I heard you make music. That you hold balls just to sway to said music and that there are people who specialise in twirly clothes. There are others that specialise in decor, plates of would coloured with berries or little…what did she call them?”

“She?” the human interrupted.

Memories flitted across the fae’s mind, but he kept his answer simple. “There was a girl, years ago, that ventured to our borders. The others fooled her into walking the way she came, but I followed her to a human town. She was a friend.” He stopped for a moment, looked the human boy in his eyes. “I did trick you, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t deceive you with magic. I knew your kind already. You make better friends than what the fae do.”

The anger from before melted away, and in its place was a melancholic blanket. It shrouded the fae boy’s mind, draped against his shoulders, and stained his teeth as he spoke.

“We can say goodbye now,” the fae said. “I won’t expect to see you again.”

“Your friend from before, do I know her?”

He didn’t expect the human boy’s to ask. In all honestly, he wished he wouldn’t have. “You did.” The pain he felt thinking about her was almost too much. At times, he would remember the human boy’s relation to her. At these times, the fae would make an excuse to go home, then hide somewhere deep in the woods so his own mind wouldn’t find him. They didn’t know about his relationship with the humans, but they knew something was odd.

“As in ‘used to?’ Was she from my village?”

“Your home,” he specified. “Do you remember the kid that visited your home, a friend of your sister’s?”

The human boy’s brows drew together, confused at the change of subject, no doubt. “When she was alive, yes. He was visiting his relative in another nearby village. Did you know them both?”

Nodding, the fae explained, “I knew her. I was him.”

Crickets chimed around the two of them, reminding both of the setting sun.

“It’s getting dark. I should go home before…anything happens.”

“The wolves don’t touch these woods.” But he understood. He hid beneath a guise, then did it all over again. “Take your time. I’ll be listening to the stars in the meanwhile. You can raise your torches and pitchforks.” He smiled as he caught the human’s eyes.

“So you don’t listen to the stars. You listen to my mind.”

“Only the second time I’ve done it, actually, but we’ll talk another time. Go home, friend.”

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

Ok, I'm going to say this as a 19 y/o, but I think we as a society give wayyyyy to much grace to teenagers. I mean, yeah, our brains aren't fully developed, but we still understand the difference between right and wrong. Like, we understand how the world works to an extent. Excusing ignorance, selfishness, and cruelty because "they're literally a teenager" is very infantilizing and enabling.

Yes, our emotions get the best of us, we have bad coping skills, and we don't have the best critical thinking skills. However, the expectation shouldn't be that we're inept, naive, and frankly stupid things. I think there should be grace and understanding extended to teenagers and teenaged characters, but not the extent I see people give.

For instance, Sansa Stark is given wayyyyy to much grace for her wilfull ignorance regarding Littlefinger's plans. Yes, it's excusable to and extent in AGOT, she was a sheltered girl who saw the world in a very whitewashed way. However, by the point of AFFC, she knows the world is harsh, she knows Littlefinger has no issues killing to get his way. She chooses to ignore this truth.

Now, I'm not saying Sansa is evil and irredeemable. Her wilfull ignorance is a character flaw, one she will develop out of. She's a gray character, just like every other character in ASOIAF. (I also have a lot to say about her bullying of Arya, but I won't talk about that here).

Alicent also receives the same treatment a lot. I think some of her choices in the first few episodes of season 1 do fit with the excuse. However, her choices throughout the show, her very stupid and cruel decisions, are so often excused long after her teenage years. This is a whole ass 30 y/o and her stans are treating her like she's fucking 15.

With Dany, I see the opposite applied. I've seen people say that she's foolish and naive, is too young to understand how the world works. They say she throws temper tantrums and expects the world to fall in line for her. This isn't the case. Rather than excuse her actions and flaws because "she's just a teenager", people create stereotypical flaws of teenage girls in her story.

Dany is known to be extremely wise for her age and she displays amazing self control and emotional regulation that I don't have now, let alone when I was 13. Dany is compassionate, self-sacrificing, and displays great foresight. She's someone who was forced to learn the harsh realities of the world young. She's not a stupid child, she shouldn't be infantilized, especially since it's always done maliciously.

I think (show) Rhaenyra gets the same treatment, but to a lesser extent. Her rightful reactions (ie to Criston asking her to run away) are misconstrued as the choices of a spoiled teenager. And yeah, that does come through sometimes, I guess; however, not nearly to the extent her antis accuse her of.

Rhaenyra wanting to change the cultural misogyny isn't her being spoiled, it's a fair goal. She's going to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, it's more immature, I think, for her to not have any plans or ambitions. Rhaenyra not wanting to run away to a life of poverty isn't being spoiled; it'd be naive of her to do that with a dude she had a drunken one night stand with.

These are just some examples of this teenager excuse being misapplied. Each time this happens, as a teenager, I feel insulted. We are not simply naive idiots; we are not just overemotional or selfish. We have brains, treat us like we do. Expect teenagers to understand at least the basics of morality and the world. This enabling behavior encourages teenagers to act selfish and be unthoughtful.