#i hope i can somehow replay that part because in need to take shots of that else i'll do it in a next playthrough

[mistress-light]

Omg, what was that? Hot dad dead, angry ice Queen mother deciding to just backstab everyone, planning on killing both her sons?! I was not prepared!

[mackenzielovee]

ambivalence blurb: gravity - rafe cameron

a/n: this is little sorry but i needed a little comfort outtake so pls enjoy cute little comforting rafe this late evening<3

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing

series masterlist

Sitting on the deck of the Cameron household, staring down into the pool you'd swam in a million times, you consider the fact that you're here at all. It's a bit cold now, as cold as it gets in the Outer Banks, and has you tightening your sweater around your body as you breathe in the fresh air.

Your mind replays every cannon ball, every attempt at the perfect dive, every teasing word you'd said to Scott over Rafe's head without even giving him a second glance. A smile teases your lips as you picture the scene in front of you; standing in your favorite bikini at sixteen, celebrating Sarah's birthday. Rafe's in the shallow end of the pool trying to play basketball with Scott, but really, his glance never leaves you. He misses almost every shot and Scott teases him for the rest of the day. Not one part of him cares, because he'd gotten to spend the day with you.

He'd watched as you perfected your dive, as you and Sarah competed to see who could make the smallest splash. He'd watched as you came up for air and pushed your hair out of your face immediately, or as you treaded water so effortlessly that he knew he couldn't use it as an excuse to wrap an arm around you. At eighteen, his height was an advantage. Just not one he could use with you, it seemed.

Now, the pool is still. The deck chair you're lounging in starts to feel uncomfortable, so you adjust yourself and lean back into the seat. You close your eyes on inhale, hoping somehow that the crisp, North Carolina air will bring some relief to the anxiety settling in your stomach.

"Sweetheart?"

Your eyes open and your head shifts slightly to the right, finding Rafe with a mug in his left hand, a blanket in his right. He's wearing an old Kildare Academy sweatshirt and has it slightly tucked into his sweatpants. His hair is messy from the nap he'd awakened from, and the string hanging from the mug tells you it's tea he holds.

"Hey," you say quietly, giving him a small smile.

"It's cold," he takes a step forward, then another, "Here."

He sets the mug down on the table beside you, then lays the blanket over your body. You give him a grateful smile when he pulls it up to your collarbones, removing one of your hands from underneath the blanket to find his.

"I made you some tea," he continues, gesturing to the mug he'd placed down beside you, "Do you wanna talk?"

You squeeze his hand, urging him to sit down on your chair. He does, attempting to take up as little room as possible so as not to make you move from your comfortable stance. You do anyway, silently encouraging him to make himself comfortable, too.

"I'm just feeling a little weird today, that's all," you shrug.

He swallows, "Don't say that like it's nothing. Is there anything I can do?"

When you tug on his hand ever so slightly, an attempt to guide him up to you, he seems to mold his body to yours in a way that proves the two of you are meant to fit only together. He crawls under your blanket and holds you against him, arms wrapping around you without a second thought.

"This," you say quietly, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

He hums contently, tightening his grip around you and squeezing before dusting kisses over your temple. Your eyes flutter closed, and he notes the way you cuddle even deeper into him, your body needing his comfort.

It's this small motion that makes him frown; not because you want to be close to him, but because something is bothering you. He's only seen this mood once before on you, having been jealous that it was not him you clung to at that time.

You'd been anxious about starting high school and spent the entire week before glued to your father's side. At fourteen years old, you'd held your dad's hand and begged for the comfort and affection because you felt as if your world was spinning out of control.

Rafe remembers how he'd experienced your fear, and the next day he wrote you a letter. He explained how high school worked down to the minute, which lunch line to go through, when it was best to go to your locker, and where your favorite genre of books were located in the school library.

As if this wasn't enough to show his pure, undying love, he'd signed the letter from Brady, your childhood crush and babysitter. Rafe had placed the letter in your mailbox the following day. That Thursday, he noticed how you were practically beaming from ear to ear, all hints of anxiety and fear gone from your body. Later that night, when Rose asked you about school, you'd told her you were excited to start. That you could handle it.

Rafe, beginning his junior year, bit down hard on his bottom lip to hide his smile. He'd never told a soul about the letter. He never planned to, either. The recognition was not what he did it for; he'd done it purely to help you. Now, he sits quietly and tries to figure out how to fix things the same way he did with the letter. How to make whatever you're worried about evaporate; to convince you that he'd take care of anything if it meant you weren't worrying.

"Talk to me," he murmurs.

His fingertips brush up and down your arm, an ever so comforting gesture that makes your heart melt. With a small smile, you nod and figure talking about it can only help.

"Everything's changing," you almost whisper, your voice failing you, "Kelce is going away to school, Topper's getting a job on the mainland, I'm moving out of my parents house, I'm- it's just a lot right now and I guess I'm just having some trouble processing it all."

"That makes sense," he says quietly, hooking his index finger into the collar of your shirt to move it aside so he can press a kiss into your shoulder.

"I don't want to sound ridiculous," you continue, "I know how lucky I am. It's just a lot to take in, you know?"

"I know," he confirms, another kiss making its way to the crook of your neck.

The deck falls silent for a moment, both of you absorbing what you'd just confessed. When Rafe feels you press into him even tighter, instinctively pulling you closer, he smiles to himself.

Your eyes fall on the guest house, the place Rafe had taken time to build, re-do, and create to provide the two of you with a place to live. You'd stared at that place many times over the years, and never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined living in it with the eldest Cameron son.

"Sweetheart," he starts, drawing your attention back to him, "I know it feels like everything's changing. I know that can be really hard. It will take some time to get used to, definitely. But, I tell you what, you wanna know what's not changing?"

You shift your head on his chest so you can look up to him out of the corner of your eye, expression puzzled. His left hand tangles with yours under the blanket.

"What's that, Rafe?" you ask.

He smirks and pulls both of your hands out from underneath the blanket, shifting your hand in his so your engagement ring is perfectly visible to you. With a kiss on your cheek, he starts to whisper in your ear, his lips lightly ghosting over your skin.

"This isn't changing," he says, "I love you so much. That will never change. I know that's not much when your best friends are moving away and your parents aren't under the same roof as you anymore, but-"

"But," you stop him, squeezing his hand, "It's enough. It's more than enough, really, it's everything."

He grins and nods his head as if to silently tell you that he feels the exact same way. Your head falls back onto his chest and you inhale completely, the first deep breath you've taken in days. His other hand, the one not completely and totally wrapped up in yours, tugs the blanket up higher so you don't get cold.

"Been dreaming of this forever, y'know," he whispers, "Being with you and holding you and knowing you like this."

You smile and squeeze his hand, still reveling in the fact that with a few simple words, Rafe can lift up all the anxiety from your shoulders and set it free.

"I remember Sarah's sixteenth birthday party," he continues softly, "You wore this blue two piece that fucking hurt me every time I looked at you. I tried to focus on anything else, but I was a goner the second you walked onto the deck. You and Sarah were having some dumb diving contest or whatever, and when yours came out perfect, I remember how happy you were. All I could think was how I wanted to see that smile forever, and maybe, y'know, things wouldn't be so bad."

When he finishes, you sit up and spin around, settling yourself in Rafe's lap. Your fingers link together behind his neck and he smiles, a hint of shyness present on his face.

"How's that working out?" you ask teasingly, eyeing his lips.

"Pretty damn good," he smirks.

You grin and press your lips to his, allowing yourself to lose all semblance of control when it comes to expressing how much you love and adore him.

When you pull away, the smirk on Rafe's face only grows as he stares at you. You smile as you run your hands across his jaw, soaking in his soft skin and the slight stubble lining his chin.

"Thank you," you say quietly, "For making me feel better."

"Of course, baby."

He doesn't object when you cuddle into him once more, keeping your front pressed to his and laying on top of him. He only wraps his arms around you back and keeps you close, using the blanket and his body heat to warm you.

"Do you need anything?" he asks.

"Just you," you reply, then bite down on your bottom lip to hide a smile, "And maybe my tea."

He laughs and urges you to sit up, reaching for the mug he'd set down and handing it off to you. You smile and take a sip, then press another gentle kiss to Rafe's lips.

"Good?" he questions.

"Perfect," you nod, "Can we just lay for a little while?"

An amused chuckle emerges from his lips as he removes your mug from you and sets it back down again, letting you return to your original position.

"As long as you want to, sweetheart."

Tags: @lurkymurker @scenesofobx @mardema @girlsneedloovee @red-wine06 @itsalexwin @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @witchwyfe @malums-trash-can @emotionalbruv @sailnorthreid @milkiane @rafecameronswhore @kotzmagoatz @wanniiieeee @kookkyra @sarahwasfound @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @kaatelyyynn @jordynsharum @anonymousobxfan @premixed-margarita @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @dr3aming0utl0udx @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @r0und3bitch @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @solllaris @lilacsandwhiskey @i-is-for-inspiring @sksliz @drewstarkey @luversgirl

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 19

Bad blood

A/N: How is everyone? I don’t know about you guys but I’m having withdrawals now peaky blinders is finished. And I’m still reeling about the fact that Alfie has married his maid Edna, I feel kinda betrayed not gonna lie 🤣 That being said here’s the latest instalment of cold feet. Sorry if it’s a little short, it just felt right to finish it where I did.

Warnings: Mentions of death, self harm and miscarriage.

Song: synergy - Tash Sultana

Too distraught to think. Any speech that erupted from your quivering lips was lost in full body racking sobs. Flashbacks replayed themselves in Choppy images behind your eyes; the group of people stampeding towards you, strange faces surrounding you, arms and hands reaching and grabbing, the weight of Alfie gone, carried away. Where were they taking him? Then you were being lifted from the floor. Tommy was there and he was shaking you viciously and yelling, his face pointed and furious but you couldn’t hear him. Ada shoved Tommy off you. Then he howled loud and clear. “She’s part of it, Ada. She helped kill our brother. Arthur’s dead because of her!”

Everything happened so fast that you couldn’t recollect properly what had transpired after that. Somehow you were transported from the streets of Smallheath to a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere. Polly and Ada accompanied you, bundling you through the door and into this huge living room. A fire was already crackling away in the hearth, warming the room but you couldn’t feel it’s heat, you couldn’t feel anything. You could only stand there in a daze, covered in blood but none of it yours.

“I’m sorry about Arthur.” You blurted suddenly.

“Don’t.” Ada urged. “That makes you sound guilty.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“I know.” She whispered. “I just…can’t get my head around it.”

“I tried to get word to you, Ada. I called the hotel in Mayfair but you had already checked out. Then Luca kidnapped me and it was too late, there was nothing I could do. I was completely helpless. You have to believe me. I’d never want anyone to get hurt.”

“That’s enough Y/N.” Polly warned. “We’ll wait for Tommy before we speak anymore about it. Ada, take Y/N to get cleaned up? No point ruining the furniture with bad blood.”

“Bad blood? I need to speak to Thomas. I need to know what’s happened to Alfie. I need to explain everything.” You croaked.

“Tommy may not be back until morning.” Polly replied bluntly, annoyance tainting her voice.

“Pol’s right. You can’t stay like that. I’ll run you a bath and look for something you can change in to.”

You nodded reluctantly and followed Ada into the lobby and up the stairs although you didn’t want to. The only thing you wanted was to know about Alfie, where they took him? Was he alive? Was Tommy capable of the compassion and generosity it would take to get Alfie help after he thought he’d betrayed him and caused the death of his brother? You were doubtful but still hoped, you had to hope.

The bath water stained pink with Alfie’s blood trickled through your fingers sending a new wave of gut wrenching sadness to crash over you. The more you thought about it, the number of shots, the amount of blood, the heavy limpness of his beastly body that was hauled from your lap, the less likely you believed Alfie could have survived. Your heart dropped, sinking with heaviness down into your belly where it lay and left the dullest pain you’d ever felt. You slipped beneath the tepid pink pool and stayed there weightless and free. Free from pain and free from causing pain. Your chest began to burn for oxygen when suddenly out of no where you heard a voice. “Don’t give up. Keep going.” It mumbled, distorted by the water.

Your eyes shot open and quickly you jumped up. Water splashed in a wave over the sides of the tub. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you gasped air in to your lungs. When you looked around you were still on your own.

“Ada?” You called, there was no answer.

Was the voice a figment of your imagination? A product of your oxygen starved brain? You felt dizzy and disoriented, overwhelmed with agitation and abrupt desperation to escape the tub.

Gracelessly you pulled yourself up and out of the tub, stepping on to the fluffy white towel Ada had laid upon the pristine marble floor to save you from slipping. When you straightened, the dull cramping which had settled in your stomach shot down your thighs like a current of electricity, effectively doubling you over.

Your eyes clenched shut waiting for the pain to subside. When you opened them again the towel beneath your feet was no longer white but spotted with blood, not pink like the bath water that was dripping off your goose pimpled skin but grotesquely bright and fresh. Your eyes followed the journey of the last droplet, widening when you saw it’s crimson trail leading up between your legs.

Your mouth fell open piercing the air with a scream.

Ada found you shaking and incoherent on the bathroom floor. At first she worried you had injured yourself but soon realised where the blood was coming from.

You heard her curse not once but twice and say something about a doctor. She covered your naked body with a towel and ran out of the bathroom screaming for Polly.

The doctor arrived within the hour. You obliged the examination although you didn’t need him or his stethoscope. You could already feel the void inside you and knew with sickening certainty what he was going to tell you. However when the blow of his professional confirmation eventually came in the dreaded shaking of his head followed by his condolences, it was more devastating than you had imagined. It was the final nail in the coffin. Shock, guilt, sadness, a rush of emotions attacked you at once suffocating you into a breathless frenzy. Ada and Polly tried to calm you but you thrashed them away with a strength you were unaware you possessed. There were exchanging of words, mumblings you couldn’t even register. The doctor then intervened in the struggle, gripping your arm tightly. You felt a pinch in your bicep and looked down to see a syringe being emptied in to your arm. It took mere seconds to take effect, dulling you down and making you feel lightheaded as if you had drunk yourself into a stupor. Then you drifted away and the pain of the world as you knew it fell away from you.

For a long time there was nothing, just darkness filling every inch of space.

Then from the void came a light spreading with music, the soft tones of a piano tinkering away to a tune you were familiar with, a tune you had heard many a time. There was brightness now almost blinding, banishing the dark to the outer edges of your vision as it stubbornly refused to be expelled completely. sparkling sequins of flappers spinning and flailing to a faster beat than the music blurred before your tired eyes. You were at the Eden club as it used to be, under Sabini’s management, before it became Arcadia. 

What were you doing here?

To your left your friend Mabels giggle echoed as a man whispered something in her ear. 

Groggily you tried to focus.

“He’s not here.” You rasped.

“So? There’s plenty of others, take your pick.” 

You knew she was going to say that. You had heard it before, this had all happened before - that’s how you knew he was here. He was at the Eden that night settling some business with Sabini. You remembered his surprised and disapproving face when he saw you, done up to the nines and on the pull, or so he had thought. You had barely known each other then. A few encounters at your uncles shop. You had gotten used to his company, enjoyed it. Your feelings growing with every day he visited. The week before that night at the Eden he hadn’t called in to your uncles shop at all, leaving you feeling disappointedly glum and confused. You had confided in your friend Mabel who almost spat her coffee across the cafe table when you told her that Alfie Solomon’s was the cause of your misery. She begged you to come out that night, promised it would take your mind of the so called bastard Baker, only for him to actually be there. Once his business was dealt with he asked you to leave with him - which you did. That was the first night you kissed. It was the beginning of something wonderful and now you were at the end. You had to Find him to stop the end from coming, to start again.

“I’m going to look for him.” You said leaving Mabel and forcing your way through the faceless crowd. Upstairs - the office, he must be there. You found a familiar looking door by the far wall and went through it. The empty room was cold and dark. The music had stopped, disappeared to make way for a set of loud footsteps that stopped a foot or so behind you. Two freezing cold hands fell upon your shoulders. You tried to look behind to see who it was but you couldn’t move.

“Go on then - tell him ‘I do.” Charles’ voice crawled across your skin. 

The room became some sort of church. Empty pews trapped either side of you and at the far end a shadowy figure stood with no face, waiting expectantly for your answer.

“No. Never.” You spat.

“It’s too late.” He sung, moving to your side. “You may not wear my ring but I’ve marked you for life. Til death do we part.” he smiled, an unnaturally wide grin, his mouth taking up half of his face as his head arched back with a menacing laughing. 

You started running then, back the way you came. Falling through the door wanting to get back to the Eden but instead landed on your hands and knees in sand. Looking up you saw the dunes of Margate to the side of you. The sea rolled violently attacking the shore. Seagulls swooped over head cawing chaotically. In the distance you saw a figure, although their back was to you you knew it was Alfie. You had found him. He was ok. The relief was enough to make you cry. You tried to call to him to get up off your knees but you had no voice and your hands and legs were sinking, buried in the sand that had a hold on you like dried cement. He walked towards the sea not stopping when the turbulent water was approaching knee height. Panic rose in your chest. You struggled ferociously with the unrelenting sand. Trying with all you might to muster at least a squeak to tell him to stop, to let him know you were there. Despite all your efforts you could do no more but watch in horror as the waves swallowed him up until he was no longer there.

You woke with a start. Your throat was sore and dry. Another unfamiliar room, alone again in the darkness. You couldn’t stay here. You got up and noticed the outline of Ada fast asleep on the chaise longe at the foot of the bed. Careful not to wake her you tiptoed to the door and crept through. You stalled on the other side. What were you doing? Where were you going? The first flickers of dusk filtered through the landing window illuminating your way. Across the way above the stairs your eyes were drawn to a huge painting of Tommys late wife Grace. She dominated the wall gazing down at you, strong and proud and in that moment there was something else in her expression. You looked harder and saw something hiding in the canvas and paint. It felt alive, her features changing, conveying a sense of sympathy that was meant for you. You blinked and the painting was once again plainly still, leaving you with the feeling you were going crazy.

A small bang and a curse emerged down the dimness of the hallway and you staggered towards it. A sliver of light sneaked through a crack in one of the many doors and without hesitation you entered.

Through the haze of cigarette smoke you saw the striking, lamp lit face of Tommy. He was sat behind a desk leaning back in his chair. His head angled forward his eyes falling lazily upon you. A flash of anger altered his impassive features and you fought the urge to retreat.

“That’s Graces night gown.” He accused.

You looked down at the silk and lace floor length slip.

“Ada gave it to me to put on. My clothes were…covered in blood.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, taking longer than necessary to exhale the smoke and said suddenly.

“Take a seat Y/N.”

He took a decanter of clear liquid, topped up his tumbler then filled another one and slid it across the varnished cherry wood of the desk in front of you. It’s strong floral aroma filled your nostrils. You eyed it disdainfully, the fact you were now allowed to drink the poison just another painful reminder of what you’d lost.

“You’ve spoken to Ada.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve spoken to Polly.” He sighed.

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the gin.

Silence stretched as you waited for Tommy to say something. What was you expecting? A pitiful sorry for your loss, or maybe a glimpse of sympathy in the cold, callous blue of his eyes. Or Maybe you just wanted proof that Thomas Shelby had heart. When the silence stretched longer than it had to it dashed your hopes of Alfie’s fate.

“I need to know what you’ve done with him. I want to see his body.” You tried to stop the wavering of your voice but it wobbled painfully with anguish.

“I need you to tell me everything you know first.” He insisted, ignoring your question.

“Why? What does it matter now?” Tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks. You swiped at them angrily. “Wait… Is it for my sake? You want me to plead my case so you can decide wether or not to spare me? Well let me save you the trouble. You may have lost your brother and I’m truly sorry about that but I’ve lost everything. My life isn’t worth begging for.”

“He’s alive.” He grumbled insipidly.

“What?”

“Alfie is still alive. He’s stable in a hospital under the guard of my men.”

“Alfie’s alive.” You repeated in disbelief.

“For now.” He looked at his burning cigarette thoughtfully then took a drag. “So you need to tell me everything you know.”

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Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69​ @boysinurdream

[bottombaron]

spoilers for what if...?

some quick thoughts on the first Marvel What If...? episode that are almost all Bucky related big surprise:

i froth at the mouth at any small moment of pre-ws!Bucky like a stranded survivor of a shipwreck. yes pls all of it, i need more. my desire to know who traumatized characters were pre-trauma is like an un-quenchable thirst.

that being said, i'm loving the idea the Bucky was just...a big fucking himbo. a nerdy silly himbo. there's nothing more satisfying than a super pretty competent person wowing you with some big time dork energy.

his lines were so groan worthy which is why i loved them. looking back it's a pretty obvious choice to make Bucky Barnes pre-Winter Soldier just Bucky Barnes from the comic books. he tells bad jokes, he's a damsel in distress, he's there for a reaction shot or two, and best of all he's got the worst one-liners.

my kingdom for Bucky of today going back to his bad one liners, honestly i would pay marvel to have Bucky throw a knife in someone's face, blood is everywhere, and he just goes, "knife to meet you." (Sam is floored. he goes through the 5 stages of grief in ten seconds and ends up laughing so hard his lungs hurt. redwing has it recorded and sam revisits it when he needs to)

the part where Steve gets back into the Hydra Smasher and falls on his face is peak stevebucky tho. Bucky is unconcerned, makes light of it, and there's even some light teasing. i have to highlight this for the purpose of Bucky's characterization in fanfic in terms of how he treats Steve, especially pre-serum Steve: he doesn't baby him. he doesn't mother-hen or overprotect Steve. he knows Steve is tough, he's spent years picking him up off of alleyway pavements, he's not going to act like a helicopter mom.

which i really appreciate because i'm tired of the treatment of Bucky as not also being a reckless kid in this war. Steve and Bucky don't have the dynamic of the Reasonable Adult and their Troublesome Kid i've seen sometimes in fic. they're both hooligans. Bucky comes off as the more cautious one sure, but it's just slightly. and that very slight difference gets overblown sometimes which feels disingenuous to a character that's in his 20s (like do you know bros in their 20s,,,do you?? they're still trying to run up walls and do backflips. they still think they're invincible. 20 year old men are the stupidest people on the planet. and i can say that as a man almost 30) and, by all accounts, ran mayhem in Brooklyn right next to his best friend.

just. don't forget Bucky Barnes is a young stupid pretty himbo okay?

speaking of disingenuous characterizations: what was that hetero bullshit with Peggy being more distraught over Steve's 'death' than Bucky????

are.you.kidding.me.

i feel this righteous anger burning over this, which i'm sure will come to a bigger rant at some point but really? fucking really?

this is it. this is what straight people do. this is the straight agenda.

this isn't even just about Steve and Bucky they do this kind of bullshit all the time in media: character 1 has a long-lasting deep friendship with character 2. character 1 has a romantic subplot with character 3. character 1 and 3 barely know each other. character 1 dies and character 3 is somehow more distraught about this than character 2.

i fully expected Bucky to start trying to climb down the mountain to find Steve but nope!

he's just 'oh nooo~ he ded. whelp lets go hoes'

while the woman who knew Steve for maybe a few months is doing the Darth Vader 'noooo' moment

this does not make any character, story, or emotional logical sense. there's no fucking reason for this bullshit than blatant homophobia.

like fucking fine, lets not see Steve and Bucky interact in any way because I WONDER WHY

but even better

lets have Bucky not really emote over Steve's death, because a. that's gay, we don't want people to think we write gay characters (don't worry marvel we don't) so two men can't care or mourn for each other onscreen. and b. we've got our hetero romance to sell

Peggy Carter is a professional military woman. with experience.

Bucky Barnes is some kid from Brooklyn whose been fighting in a war he's been drafted in for maybe some handful of months.

but sure. yeah. his childhood best friend dying. he's the one whose going to have the professional cool head in this moment.

and it's the PROFESSIONAL MILITARY WOMAN whose going to forget her job and training and need to be pulled from grieving BY THE MAN WHO'S BEST FRIEND JUST 'DIED'

SURE JAN SURE

it's the homophobia that betrays the logic of the characters that really fucks me up y'know?

if you're betraying the honest emotional reactions of story and character because you're afraid of those things being perceived as gay: you're homophobic.

it's really that simple.

'i'm in. for Steve' lol. like god. i'm as tired as seb sounds i swear

and i know Sebastian '~the truth of the character~' Stan probably felt like his teeth were being pulled out with hot pliers reading these. how many times did the voice director have to say, 'ok. can we try it like you're not slowly decaying from the inside, hunny?'

barely any howling commandos and none of them had any lines other than Dum Dum. ok. yeah. ok.

so some high notes:

return of my favorite Stark: 1940's Howard!

i would die twenty times just to be able to see more of Dominic Cooper's Howard Stark. he's just the fucking best. earnest and cute and a bit of a mad scientist and i fucking adore him

i need the Howard Stark + Bucky Barnes sitcom now. pls and thank you.

i'll even take 5 minute vinaigrettes of the antics they'd be up to. two playboy nerds together is just a magical event, don't waste it! i can't believe i've been sleeping on this dynamic it's too good.

"BARNES STOLE A CAR"

i will be replaying this single moment for years. the serotonin it gives me.

stark is just. the most excited man ever to have seen someone hotwire a car??? how did this scene go i need to knoooooowwww

all frustrations aside, it was really cool to see Peggy Carter as Captain Britain. she's a great character and i love her so much. every moment she was legit thrashing n*zis with her big butch arms was thrilling and satisfying.

that truck shield flip is still doing things to me...

honestly upset that the sword Peggy was wielding wasn't a Zemo easter egg like i was hoping it was 😩

[solarwonux]

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

[eggrestes]

ladrien fic recs!

there are SO MANY amazing ladrien fics i cant possibly cover them all but here are a few!

(all the ratings used are ao3 ratings)

((this is a very long post!))

FLUFF

Of Ivy and Sunlight by cyanise [ T, 1509 words, 1/1 ]

When Adrien takes to wandering the streets of Paris in ungodly hours, Ladybug has no choice but to keep an eye on him. Still, things are bound to get a little out of hand between two overloaded teenagers with a lot of love and not enough self-control. 

a lovely post-chat blanc fic :’) it has a great flow and is just soft and so sweet and it’s just perfect. gosh i cannot really say more other than read it!!! also almost all of their other stuff is also ladrien so do check it out!

This can't be happening by PlaPla [ T,  6,467 words, 1/2 ]

Ladybug is unsure whether accompanying Adrien to a gala as his not-date is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to her. But when their table mates turn out to be none other than her long time friends Alya and Nino and with Adrien acting weirder and weirder she finds herself with bigger worries than an unrequited crush.

a djwifi/ladrien double date? hit me up! i love identity shenanigans, ball dancing, ladrien, and djwifi and this is a perfect mix for me. i know it’s incomplete but it doesn’t end in a cliff-hanger really, the part 2 is just a promise of more so it doesn’t feel incomplete! PlaPla also has a short oneshot of ladrien going for a motorcycle ride.

Falling again by emsylcatac [ M,  4,506 words, 2 Works ]

They had been dancing around each other for a while now, and while fifteen year old Adrien would have been ecstatic at the idea of dating Ladybug in secret, twenty-two year old Adrien knew better. But Ladybug wasn’t making it easy. It was like… she, too, was falling for him. And that surprisingly enough, she didn’t mind.

* * *

Or Adrien trying (and failing) to keep things professional between him and Ladybug when the two of them partner up for a mission. Older AU

things are a little steamy~ here (don’t worry, it’s only implied it’s very mild and closer to a T rating than the M) but it’s a great mature take on their dynamics! emsy has more ladrien one-shots in her collection of one-shots!

i'd love to go on a date with you by sae_what  [ G,  6,480 words, 1/1 ]

Once it had been falsely announced throughout Paris that Adrien and Ladybug are in a relationship, Ladybug pays him a visit to turn him down gently.

Only, she doesn’t. And instead, she has a formal dinner date. With Adrien. At 8 pm. Tonight.

LADYBUG IN A SUIT!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. okay but for real it’s so sweet and also??? they are on a date!!! a rooftop date!! (too man exclamation marks oops)

Always Welcome by  chatonne-rousse [ T, 1,683 words, 1/1 ]

Ladybug knows that Adrien's window is always open for her to swing by and stop in, whether for video games or a chat or, like tonight, for soft kisses and sweet nothings.

He loves these visits. His girlfriend is always welcome. Always. (Especially for kisses.)

Written for Ladrien June, day 8: bluebell eyes.

established relationship, pre-reveal ladrien. there is something very home-y about this fic and it’s all about the comfort and quiet that i adore about it!

Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir) by agrestenoir [ T,  1,923 words, 1/1]

Gabriel Agreste keeps finding Ladybug in his son's bedroom. As a super villain and father, this will not stand.

this crack fic is... honestly so hilarious. it’s all through gabrie-i-am-trying-to-parent-and-failing-a-lot-agreste’s POV so it is so much ridiculous! 

an uncurtain discovery by  Missnoodles [ T, 4,684 words, 1/1 ]

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Adrien is being a cat and gets tangled in the curtains on his window and it’s utterly ridiculous. all the bug and the cat tendencies make it funnier and adrien’s inner monologue is just a cherry on top!

secret valentine by a_miiraculer [ T,  12,245 words, 1/1 ]

this is the moment that we will come alive brace yourself for love sweet love, secret love

If Adrien had known that getting himself stuck in a tree would end like this, he would've gotten himself stuck sooner.

A drabble series.

i just,,,, don’t have words for how much i love it! it’s ridiculous, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s whole-some and just ladrien. the writer also has a M rated multi-chapter ladrien kissing (no the M is very much real here) and a heroic adrien and ladybug one-shot too! 

Those Benevolent Stars by peachcitt [ G,  23,696 words, 3/3 ]

“Will you come back?”

She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.

“But will you?”

or

adrien meets his soulmate, a thief who calls herself ladybug. he falls for her, but she seems determined to maintain a space between them.

oh my god this au.... just no words!! it’s poetry and it’s tender and it’s about the yearning and just!!! perfect :’). Her current ongoing ladrien june fic is also akin to this (and the fic i linked before it) so do check it out too! (literally check out all of their works it’s so beautiful)

Flowers on the Window Sill by LNC [ G,  2,144 words, 1/1 ]

The first time Ladybug saw him, really saw him, the universe stopped.

this fic feels like poetry and it’s so lovely. LNC is always short and direct but it always hits right in the feels while also being hilarious. Her  other ladrien works are just as good and i highly recommend going through them because it fulfills all of the ladrien needs (along with Reiaji)

whatever a sun will always sing is you by komorebirei [ T,  32,980 words, 37/37 ]

“I didn't think you'd actually... do anything," Adrien admitted, cheeks prickling with warmth. "I-I mean, I never expected... I didn't know you watched my interviews.” That definitely wasn’t how he'd imagined confessing to Ladybug.

“Of course I do!” Ladybug squeaked. “Uhh, that is…” She looked down at her hands, nervously turning her yo-yo over, over and over. “Maybe you’re not the only one with a crush.”

(After an unexpected confession, Ladybug and Adrien start dating in secret. A progressive character- and relationship-study quilted from drabbles, with the intention of digging treasure out of the cove that is Ladrien. Written using kashimalin-fanfiction's kiss writing prompts from Tumblr.)

it does such an excellent job at exploring this dynamic along with the characters. it’s such a sweet fic, each chapter short and fun!

ANGST

whose woods these are (I think I know.) by  Reiaji [ T,  105,000 words, 25/25 ]

Four years after his future turns to cinders, Adrien is a servant in the house he was meant to inherit. Disowned by his father and abused by his stepmother, his days are filled with drudgery until he meets a masked huntress in the forest behind his father's chateau.

As his friendship with Ladybug turns to first love, he dreams of a future spent at her side.

Then, on the eve of the Princess's masquerade, he meets his guardian—and is granted a wish.

[Ladrien Cinderella AU]

Warnings: Child abuse, Graphic depiction of violence

this is absolutely gorgeous. it has so many troupes and so many amazing character arc and great build up and everything just flows so well. it left me in awe for weeks and i just. want to experience reading it for the first time again. look at this gorgeous art inspired by this! {and you have to read  leonard bernstein too because LETTERS and LADRIEN and YEARNING}

i would do it again (oh, a thousand times) by bugabisous [ T, 2,266 words, 1/1 ]

Knowing you can bring someone back doesn’t mean you’re free of the pain of seeing them disappear before your eyes. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to look at her directly without replaying every horrifying moment when he felt her slip away in a puff of smoke.

When it happens once again, he already knows he’ll be trying again. He just can’t give up.

it expands on adrien’s feelings in the episode desperada (my beloved <3) and it is just ouch. such great angst, such great potential. the kind of tragedy that it offers is unusual for ml (it gets only rivaled by chat blanc tbh). to rival this angst bugabisous also has a fluffy one-shot :)

when the world gets too heavy (put it on my back) by Taliax [ T, 4,720 words, 1/1 ]

Chat Noir isn't allowed to cry over his father. But even when he's just Adrien, Ladybug won't abandon him.

Hawkmoth reveal hurt/comfort + Ladrien

the plagg and adrien bond written is just perfect, and oh this hits right in the feels :’) it hurts all in the right way. tali also has so many other ladrien works in all genres too

By Your Side by omniousunflower [ T, 4,361 words, 1/1 ]

(Angry and alone, Adrien waits on top of the Eiffel Tower for his lady.)

“So, how did my kitty get stranded up here?” Ladybug asks.

Groaning, Adrien pulls his knees toward his chest and presses his face against them. “Because he’s stupid and impulsive.”

“Chasing pigeons, then?”

“No.” Shame burns in Adrien’s veins, white-hot now that Ladybug is here to witness his stupidity. “I threw my Miraculous, and Plagg wouldn’t get it for me.”

post-hawkmoth defeat, and adrien is not doing well at all. i am cheating because it is post reveal, pre relationship but it’s still ladrien. this fic is a roller coater of emotions, starting from a slightly crack scenario to a cute, awkward, hopeful ending.  More Than You Know is another of sunny’s angsty ladrien work!

Breaking The Rules (AKA The Ladrien Fistfight) by ThisKwamiNeeds_aNap [ T, 8,714 words, 1/1 ]

Marinette may or may not be dying, but she’s still going to do her best to fix every single problem in the world. She’s not expecting Adrien to be the one who tries to stop her. (Takes place immediately after Kwami Buster)

Warnings: panic attack, broken bones, PTSD. please read the tags!

*slaps this fic* this fic can fit in so much angst. it just?? left me in PAIN oof. it says ‘ladrien fistfight’ on the lid but nooo there is marinette is just having a freak out and it’s all so much??!! and it’s not just marinette there is adrien too and chloe and alya and- wow it’s amazing. love it so much it fills up my angst needs :’)

so that’s it for now! my personal commentary isn’t impressive nor does it do justice to the fic but i still hope you read a few of these!! happy reading!!

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/

[sunsoothed]

hair(care)

remember this post? yes i wrote the fic. with some angst and backstory as a treat! family bonding time and people learning to love. the ao3 summary is "Yohan first learns affection through money, then oil." which i think is really really funny.

word count: 1696

read on ao3

apologies for any errors, and enjoy!

-

The first time Yohan tries, it is before everything. He’s allowed to err here and there, require an entire braid to be unwound and redone. He’s allowed to experiment with the clips and the ribbons and decide when the act is complete and present his art to his niece and his family. Elijah is rightfully fawned over, cheeks bright and smiles brighter, holding onto her uncle and hiding her face in his shoulder with glee.

That was, of course, before everything.

-

If Yohan has touched a hair on Elijah’s head since, it is only to make a promise or only in her sleep.

The doctors will take care of you, don’t worry. Samcheon is here. I won’t let them hurt you any more than you already have been.

Midnight, in that agonising few months of hospital rooms and the claustrophobic rehabilitation centre. When Elijah is able to perceive nothing but her breath, Yohan, hands reverent; soothing his own fears through comforting his niece. Things will be okay. We’ll be fine. A few grounding breaths are never enough, not after he learns what those monsters took from his niece.

And when Elijah cries. When she first asks after her mother and father, why they aren’t by her side, why is it just samcheon everyday? When Yohan’s tears ring before hers, for the first and last time. I’m sorry, so is declared. I’ll fix this, so is promised. He holds her as close as he can permit himself to, and vows to burn down this world if she asks him to.

-

Elijah, once, four years since, on her tenth birthday, asks him, “Can you help me?”

Yohan will pretend like he hasn’t been starved of hearing those words. He follows her to her room, honoured of her trip halfway across the house.

“The girls at school,” Elijah fumbles about, wringing her hands together, “that… they wear their…”

He stands in her doorway, somewhat uninvited, waits for her to finish.

“They wear their hair, kind of… like this,” Elijah mimics some variation of a hairstyle best she can, two locks of her hair held in her hands, the parting off. “I was just…”

Yohan, unfortunately, understands little. “Do you need a haircut?”

Elijah’s hands fall, as does the thin hope upon her features. “It’s nothing,” she dismisses. “I only called you because ahjumma wasn’t in today. It’s fine.”

Yohan blinks. “I can help if —”

“It’s fine,” Elijah hisses. “I was mistaken.”

-

If there is any chance of that ever happening again, time will have to be reversed. Elijah turns twelve, and things change, and Yohan notes his laptop has been hacked.

He buys her a cake for her thirteenth birthday that finds itself smashed against a wall and a demand for no such recurrence.

Yohan will never disobey her. Not with things that she can control.

So he buys no cakes, but buys her a building and channels the affection he allows himself to feel once a month in an allowance that shocks Ms Ji despite the lifetime she’s spent in this family.

Once, there is a package of hair care products with their usual shipment of essentials, which Ms Ji makes a show of putting in Yohan’s way. When he relents, it only takes a tilt of head to the east of the house for her to get the hint. He never knows if Elijah uses them, but the list goes on to include some products out of the large batch he’d purchased, and Yohan considers buying another building.

-

On her sixteenth birthday, Yohan asks, “Do you want to have a birthday party?”

Elijah asks, “Who will we call?”

Yohan nods, for that is an apt answer.

-

When Kim Gaon comes, Elijah hates him more than usual. That, Yohan had expected. What he hadn’t was that this hatred would melt away faster than ice when met with fire.

The frist time Elijah sports a more delicate hairstyle than the usual ponytail, Yohan thinks it’s a trick of the light. But she turns her head when retrieving cereal, and her hair is still parted that way and a short braid runs from behind her ear into the clipped-back hair at the back of her head, and Yohan pauses to stare.

Instead of their noncommittal acknowledgement of each other each morning, he asks, “When did you…” and gestures to the back of his head.

Elijah shrugs, looking over at him impassively for a moment before pursuing her breakfast once again. Kim Gaon slides into view, grin perpetually etched into his face, asks, “Elijah, did it stay?”

To which Elijah smiles back, and now Yohan’s eyebrows remain shot up.

Kim Gaon continues to talk, “It’s experimental. We’ll try a different style tomorrow. Your hair’s long enough to make an intricate bun.”

Yohan ensures Elijah watches him conspicuously eye the both of them.

“Kim pansa,” he says, breaking the moment. “We need to go to work.”

-

The next day, and the day after that, Elijah wears her hair in different styles. Once it is a high bun with some small braids, once it is a different parting and a new set of clips. Yohan observes critically over breakfast as Elijah holds her head a certain way to ensure it doesn’t fall into her food, and thinks, how impractical.

She catches him looking, so she hoists a sour look, to which Yohan responds with an exaggerated tilt of his head, aiming to mimic her.

“Don’t make fun of her,” Kim Gaon’s imposing voice interrupts. “Elijah looks fantastic today.”

Elijah beams. Yohan is disarmed of a biting reply for he hasn’t seem her teeth take on anything but a stubborn baring of power in front of him. He spends the rest of the day replaying it.

-

When things so south and north again, when Elijah acknowledges, begrudgingly, that her uncle did not have it out for her father, Kim Gaon mediates harmoniously.

He spends an evening making them both chase the cat around the house.

It’s an inane idea, even Elijah hates it, but he tells them the reason Kkomi starts throwing things off their desks at four in the morning is because she’s understimulated, and that even a cat needs to exercise.

So it’s Elijah’s job to get her rilled up enough to run — in a cat’s terribly comic way — away from them, and Yohan’s to ensure she keeps running around.

He’s insane, is what Kim Gaon is. Elijah’s more than sure this borders on some ethical offense. Yohan sure seems to find some pleasure in making the cat scared for her life.

Gaon congratulates them both with a mid-evening coffee and snack break. Elijah actually, voluntarily, asks for Yohan to pass the plate of biscuits across, and thanks him — thanks him! — when he does.

Before they all retire to bed, after another shared meal, Elijah calls for him from down the hall.

“Yohan!”

He turns, maintaining what he thinks is a smile.

“Can you try and get some coconut oil?”

“What for?”

Elijah scrutinises him, gauging how he doesn’t understand something so obvious. “For my hair.”

Yohan nods, still not on the same page, but very much wanting to be. “I’ll get it,” he assures.

He doesn’t blink twice at the astronomical shipping price.

-

It’s a tall bottle, imported and primly packaged, that greets Elijah when she returns home from her weekly ice-cream run with Gaon.

She eyes it, suspicious, before their resident busybody stands in her doorway and says, “Oh, bujang-nim actually bought it for you.”

Elijah blinks at Gaon innocently. Yohan does listen to her sometimes.

“Material wealth,” Gaon seems to understand. “We’ll put it in your hair tomorrow, okay? Keep it in for a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Yohan voices, having just turned the corner, dressed as he usually is at home.

“What are you doing here,” Elijah mutters, shooting a scowl at Yohan as he stands in her doorway as well.

He scowls back, never one to back down from a challenge, as Gaon goes on about the benefits of oiling hair behind them.

-

“Don’t pull,” Elijah hisses.

“I’m not,” Yohan insists, but puts less force into his actions nonetheless.

Gaon and Ms Ji are monitoring them, mirroring each other with their arms crossed and leaning against opposite sides of the doorway.

Yohan sections Elijah’s hair into three parts after brushing through it, the fine-toothed comb surprisingly sparse of broken hair.

“Gaon has been helping me take care of it,” Elijah had explained, when he errantly asked. “What, did you think I’m some sort of wild animal?”

Yohan carefully collects some oil in his palms, completely foreign to this, eyes flickering up to Gaon for guidance. Gaon is absolutely no help.

So he trusts his instincts and starts at Elijah’s scalp, rubbing oil in, and ends with oil down his forearms and Elijah’s hair in a thick braid. She’s fast asleep.

“That means you did a good job,” Gaon whispers to him.

Yohan would smile, but such affection hardly suits his face. He pats Gaon’s face with an oily hand, leaves him spluttering, and grins to himself as he tries to wash the oil off.

-

It barely becomes a routine, because despite Gaon’s somewhat vast knowledge on hair care and what Elijah read online, washing oil out of your hair can be a nightmare. But Ms Ji and Gaon have observed their two sulking overlords interacting with an increasing frequency, even if it is sometimes just to disagree about an arrangement of clips or parting of hair.

Gaon had supposed, somewhat, that his bujang-nim had at least an understanding of style. In his discussions with his niece, though, when somehow colour schemes and draping becomes relevant, Gaon admits he’d underestimated Kang Yohan.

Later Elijah will decide she wants to dress for dinner as well, and Yohan will be the only one diligently obeying the formality. So much so that he will leave a guest in the company of the villainous home to attend to his niece’s requests. No one will ask about the pink bow in her hair, but it’s more than enough for Yohan to know that he tied it up.

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (6)

*We stan open communication, patience, and informed, enthusiastic consent when it comes to acts of sex baby! That being said I have gotten a lot more comfortable and better at writing smut (imho) so compared to smut I have written in the past this is more detailed and thus a lot raunchier sounding than anything you may have read by me before. Just wanted to put that out there before we go diving into this. Also, if I have not somehow made this clear enough already: SMUTTY CHAPTER AHEAD!*

~~~

Felix woke up a little stiff but otherwise happy. You were still asleep next to him. At some point in the night you both had turned over so he was spooning you. You fit into him like a puzzle piece. He really could get used to waking up like this.

You shifted in your sleep your back nestling further against his body. Felix froze as he realized that there was another part of him that had woken up this morning. Of all the days he could wake up with morning wood it had to choose the morning he was sleeping next to you and your ass was pressed right up against him. Okay. No matter. He can just move back so it isn’t touching you.

Felix slid his hips back from you but your body followed when he tried to pull away. He couldn’t push you away either since you were holding his free arm to your chest. Now that he was thinking about it Felix could feel exactly what it was his trapped hand was touching. So it seemed he was in a very awkward position. Your ass pressed against his erect dick and refusing to put space between it and his hand resting over one of your breasts where you kept it held. He really didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment that would come if you were to wake up while you two were like this.

He could just push you away and make a run for it. No. You didn’t deserve to be woken up like that. He started thinking of things to get his erection to go down but it persisted. It really wasn’t helped by the fact that you kept wiggling your butt against it either. If you kept squirming around it was never gonna go away.

“Hmm,” Your voice whined and pressed against him harder. You kept making small little noises as you squirmed and it suddenly dawned on Felix what was happening. You were having a dirty dream and were using the feeling of his erection between your thighs to get yourself off.

Oh this was conflicting.

He could either stay in place and let you ride this out, pun intended, and hope that you didn’t wake up or if you did wake up he could pretend to still be asleep and you could deal with any embarrassment on your own. There was also the chance that he could wake you up and you two could be mature about this situation and laugh it off in mutual embarrassment. Hell, it might even evolve into actual sex if he played his cards right. Then again he could still just run away and you two would never need to speak of this morning ever again.

He needed to make a decision soon because you were only getting more eager in your motions. Your breath was coming harder and he knew you would wake yourself up soon if he didn’t do anything. Damn it. Why did this have to feel so good?

“Hey,” Felix whispered, “Wake up. Time to get up, little girl.”

“Huh?” Your eyes were bleary but open, “Ugh…” You pressed into him again, still not fully awake. “Felix?”

“Right here,” He said, “You need to wake up now. You’re kinda...um...you are kinda rubbing…” Felix couldn’t get the words out. His face felt red hot.

“Rubbing?” You squinted over your shoulder at him. He sighed and glanced down at the lower half of your bodies. You looked down too and with a yelp leapt away from him. “Oh my god! Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Felix mumbled. He grabbed a pillow from the armchair to cover his lap. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had your face hidden in your hands. Felix took a deep breath. You were so beautiful in the morning. Your bedhead and rumpled pajamas was the softest thing he had ever seen. He really wished he could have enjoyed it longer.

“Did I…” You whispered, your face still pointed away from him, “Did I cause it to be like that?” You pointed lamely to the pillow on his lap.

Felix gulped and clutched the pillow tighter. This line of questioning wasn’t helping to get rid of it.

“No,” Felix said, “Not in the way you’re thinking. It was already like that when I woke up you just kept it like that.”

“Oh god!” You groaned. You grabbed one of the blankets from the floor and pulled it over your head to hide. “This is mortifying.”

“Is it?” Felix said before he could think better of it. “Is it so bad to think that you may desire me the same way I desire you?”

“You what?” One of your eyes peeped out from your blanket cocoon.

“You heard what I said.” Felix took a deep breath. “I like you. I find you attractive. Why does it have to be embarrassing? It’s like you said: it’s just us here. Can we be honest without shame?”

“This is a lot to process first thing in the morning.” You were dodging. Felix didn’t blame you. He was trying to have a conversation you just weren’t ready for. Even though he knew you desired him you just weren’t ready to admit it to him yet. It hurt but he wouldn’t push you.

“It is rather early,” Felix sighed in defeat, “I’m gonna go get a shower.”

~~~

Felix walked past me and went up the stairs to his bedroom. My face was still uncomfortably hot as I replayed the morning’s events back in my mind. I had been having a pleasant dream about Felix. Instead of the hot and heavy dreams I was used to it was softer. Still sexual but it wasn’t dirty. In my dream he was making love to me. Sweet words whispered in my ear as he kissed me. When I woke up I almost didn’t realize I wasn’t dreaming anymore until Felix told me I was rubbing my ass up against him.

I had never felt more embarrassed! It also didn’t help that I was still turned on to the point I couldn’t even look at him lest I crawl back into his lap. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. What must he have been thinking when he woke up to me doing that?

But that wasn’t the entire story, was it? Felix had said he desired me. He wasn’t mortified by the experience like I was. He had been so sweet and honest about the entire situation while I cowered under my blanket. Why am I trying to avoid this? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks! He practically told me I’d be more than welcome in his bed and I turned him down. What is wrong with me?!

I need to fix this.

I shot to my feet and ran upstairs. I paced outside of Felix’s room for a few minutes before swallowing back my nerves and going in. Felix wasn’t in the bedroom. I heard the sound of running water and remembered that he said he was gonna get a shower.

This felt eerily familiar.

I lingered in the doorway debating if I should leave and come back in a few minutes when he was finished or stay and wait. As I was trying to think of what to do the water turned off and Felix emerged from the bathroom.

It didn’t seem like he had noticed I was there as he strolled across the room over to his dresser.

Keep my eyes up, do not look down at his naked torso. Everything will be fine.

“Uh Felix?”

“Geez!” Felix jumped. The towel around his hips started to slip and he grabbed at it to keep it from falling. “Damn it woman! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing skulking in my door?”

“Sorry, I just…” I entered the room and let the door fall shut behind me. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And this couldn’t wait until after I got clothes on?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think that through. I just wanted to say that I didn’t feel right about the way things were left downstairs. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about liking you. Probably because I haven’t ever liked anyone like I like you before. I certainly have never really wanted anyone like I want you and that scares me too. But I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want you to think that I’m pushing you away because I’m ashamed of what I feel. I do find you attractive and I do want more out of this relationship but it’s daunting. I don’t know where I would even start.”

“Darling,” Felix sighed, he cupped my face in his large hands and bent down to kiss me. “We start right here. We start by admitting what we want. We can take it as slow or as fast as you want to. We have more than enough time to explore together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I stood on my toes and pulled him down for another kiss. It was quickly turning heated and Felix pushed me away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m still only wearing a towel.” He said, “And you are turning into a tent if you get my meaning.”

“Oh…” I blushed. I gazed into his pale slate blue eyes. “Anything I can help with?”

Felix’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I might end up taking you up on it.”

“That’s exactly why I said it though.”

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, little girl?”

“I hope so.” I threaded my fingers with his, “And for your information I am not a little girl. Not in height and certainly not in age.”

“Are you sure about that, small fry?” Felix chuckled, “Looking kinda short from up here.”

“This is a perfectly normal height!” I protested, “You’re just freakishly tall! You know what? Forget it. I rescind my offer. Have fun of taking care of that on your own.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix tugged on my hand keeping me close, “I can’t help but tease you. Come back.”

He ran a free hand through my hair. His gaze searching mine. “I want you to. God knows how much I want you to but I don’t want you to do it if it isn’t what you really want. Don’t go thinking you have to jump into the deep end to keep me happy. I’ll still want you regardless.”

“I’m not behaving irrationally, Felix.” I told him, “I want to do this and, y’know, maybe in exchange you can...help me…?”

“Brave girl,” Felix smirked before kissing me again. He was leaning back against the dresser. His hands wandered from my hips up into my hair and down again. I felt something poke against my stomach and tried not to squeak like was my knee jerk reaction.

“Still want to do this?” Felix whispered. His voice was a lot deeper than before. It sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

“Yes please.”

Felix took a deep breath and nodded. With trembling hands I untucked the towel from his hips and it fell to the floor. I was staring directly into Felix’s chest. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I had him naked. I had many fantasies but trying to re-enact them had me trembling with anticipation and fears of inadequacy.

“Need me to help guide you?” Felix spoke softly.

I nodded dumbly. Felix tilted my chin up to kiss me. His other hand rested over my dominant hand and pressed it to his chest. Slowly he moved it down lower, all the while his mouth was still on mine. I felt wiry hairs touch my hand and I flinched.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Felix whispered against my lips, “You’re alright, darling. Nothing to be scared of here. Just keep your eyes on me.”

I took in a deep breath and relaxed once more. With his hand still over mine he guided it along his cock. Letting me get a feel for what it felt like to touch it. His breathing was calculated and slow, trying to retain a sense of composure as he moved my hand over him and palmed the tip. He hissed through clenched teeth and kissed me again a bit more desperately.

“Are you good to keep going?” He asked.

“Yes.” My own voice felt faraway.

Felix moved my hand back down to the base and wrapped my fingers along the shaft. With his hand still around mine he moved it up and down his cock in sure slow movements. His wrist flicked and twisted slightly as we went. He was breathing hard now and I could tell he was trying not to moan or buck into my hand.

“Felix,” I kissed at his shoulder, “You can enjoy yourself. Don’t be so worried about scaring me off. Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

I bit back a smile as I removed his hand from around mine so it was just me pleasuring him. I watched his face closely seeing what he liked and how to respond. It was so strange seeing this boy who was usually so stoic and rigid release his inhibitions and react how he wanted to in my grasp. I felt a surge of power as I started pumping him faster, the sound of his moans getting louder. Half mumbled words as his hips bucked against my fist. He kept one hand gripped on the lip of the dresser while the other held tightly to me.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his eyes were screwed shut, a small bead of perspiration gathered on his brow, “Fuck, I--” He broke off into wanton moans again.

“It’s alright, Felix. I want you to.” I trailed my lips along his chest, “Please Felix.”

He roared my name and bucked harder into my hand. Warm spurts of milky cum coating my hand in the process.

Felix panted as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm. Our eyes met and he pulled me to him crushing his lips to mine. “So I did a good job?” I chuckled against his lips.

“You were perfect, darling.” He collected his towel from the ground and wiped the cum from my hand. “Sorry about the mess. Looks like I got a bit on your pants too.”

“They needed washed anyway.” I shrugged.

“It’s your turn now.” He said. My eyes widened and he snorted. “Did you forget about that part?”

“A little. Got caught up in the moment with you.” I blushed harder. Felix brought me to him again for a sweet lingering kiss. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” He grinned, “Chuck your pants in my hamper and sit on the bed for me.”

“Okay.” I turned to go.

“Oh, put this in there too while you’re over there.” Felix threw his towel at me. I caught it and tossed it in the bathroom hamper before stripping out of my pajama pants and tossing them in as well. I sat at the edge of Felix’s bed wearing only my panties and a sleep shirt.

Felix had pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt while I was waiting. My whole body was growing more jittery with every step he took towards me. It was a good kind of jittery though. My body thrummed with anticipation.

He sat down next to me. His hands caressed my face and left small kisses along my nose and cheeks. “I guided you, now you need to guide me.” He said, “Show me what to do. What you like.”

“Right,” I shook off my nerves. Shouldn’t be too hard, I just need him to do what I usually do when I’m alone. I can start slow. No need to rush.

I leaned closer and kissed him. As we kissed I moved his hand down to the hem of my shirt and slid it under so he was touching my bare skin. My skin tingled in the wake of his touch. His other hand followed as I encouraged him to touch my breasts. I moaned into his mouth.

“Soft,” Felix murmured, “I knew you’d be soft.”

“And your hands are rough.” I laughed slightly. Felix grimaced and started to withdraw before I pressed him back to me. “It’s okay. I kinda like it.”

I let him go so he could rub and play with my breasts. My shirt was hiked up and I quickly took it off so it was out of the way. He groaned next to me and after a nod from me he started peppering kisses along my chest. He took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked on it.

The ache between my legs was getting stronger. “Felix,” I took one of his hands and started leading it lower down my body. “I need you to touch me now.”

“With pleasure, darling.” We laid down against the bed. “Show me what to do.”

“First, I like to play with my clit until I feel ready.” His hand slid beneath the band of my panties and I whined when he touched my clit. He rubbed it in sure slow swipes, circling it with care as I moaned next to him.

“You’re really wet,” He said. “Do I make you feel that good, little girl?”

“Yes,” I gasped as he sped up slightly. I clung onto him tighter, my face buried in his shoulder. “Want to make me feel even better?”

“Of course,”

“Slide one finger inside me,” I instructed. Felix listened and I let out a moan that was half yelp.

“Did I hurt you?” Felix asked, concerned.

“No, it’s just um,” I shuddered around him, “Your fingers are longer than mine so you can get deeper than I normally can. It feels really good.”

“Good, now what would like me to do?”

I instructed him on taking me slowly. Curling his finger and letting my cunt stretch before he added another. I was starting to lose coherency as he began pumping his fingers in and out of me. Curling and scissoring my wet, aching cunt until I couldn’t form words anymore. He kissed my neck, whispered words of praise in my ear as my pleasure was driven higher and higher. I risked a glance down and nearly came at the sight of Felix’s hand in between my legs. It was so strange to see something I pictured so clearly in my mind actually happening.

“Felix,” I moaned, grasping onto him like my sanity depended on it. “Feels good...almost--almost--need more!”

“What do you need? Tell me how to please you.”

“Clit. Rub my clit.” I begged.

His other hand went down and started rapidly swiping and circling my clit. I shouted as stars danced before my eyes. I was gonna cum any second now. “Felix! Fuck Felix, I’m gonna--I--”

“Do it,” His voice was dripping with desperation, “Please darling, I want you to cum. I want to know you feel good. Please cum for me darling.”

“Felix!” I dug my fingernails into his shoulders as my orgasm washed over me. My pussy clenching tight over his fingers which were still coaxing me through my orgasm to draw it out as long as possible. I rocked against him, my shouts turning into whimpers as tiny post orgasmic shockwaves rolled through my body.

“I got you,” Felix whispered, “I got you. You were so wonderful for me, darling. I’m glad I could make you feel good.”

“Not just good,” I mumbled happily, “Fucking fantastic is what it felt like.”

“Happy to hear it.” He popped the fingers that had just been in my pussy into his mouth licking the juices off. He licked his lips with a smile. “I knew you would taste good too.”

“I cannot believe you just did that.” I hid my face in his chest, “Why did you do that in front of me?!”

“Because as splendid as this morning has been I have not had anything to eat yet today and I figured I had a good enough snack right here.”

“Felix!” My face felt like it was on fire.

“Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?”

“You what?!” I snapped my head up so fast I hit him in the jaw. “Ow, sorry,”

“Okay, that might have been a little too intense for an after handjob pillow talk. I concede that.” Felix rubbed his jaw, “How about we cool things down for the rest of the day? You go clean yourself up, get a shower, put on something comfy. I’ll go make us something to eat and we can watch whatever movie you want. Sound good?”

I rolled on top of him and kissed him. I didn’t care if I could taste myself on his tongue (It was kinda hot if I was honest with myself). I just wanted to express these deep feelings stirring inside that I couldn’t adequately express. If this wasn’t love then I don’t know what else it could possibly be.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Felix chuckled, “Now can you get off me? As much as I would love to keep you here in my bed for the rest of the day I did promise you food and a movie.”

“If I must,” I rolled off him and collected my shirt from the ground. With a final look at Felix I smiled and scampered out of the room back to my own. I think this has to be the best morning I’ve ever had.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[secretshinigami]

strike to incinerate

Author: @jeevas-exe (ghoulhunt on ao3) For: @jam-knife Pairing/Characters: Light Yagami, B, L Lawliet Rating/Warnings: T, major character death Prompt: Light and B join forces to bring L down. How does that work out? Your choice to make it Blight or keep it platonic Author’s notes: I had SO much fun writing this piece! It was new and experimental for me to write in this style, but it was lots of fun going back and forth between perspectives and time. The biggest thing was consistency. Happy reading, I hope you enjoy! <3

—

1.

It’s close to midnight and the cars seem to be zooming by.

Adrenaline runs through B’s veins. Riding down the highway going upwards of eighty, ninety miles an hour, weaving between traffic, cutting other drivers off and getting honked at. Travel, travel, travel, his days and nights, following, trying to catch up to the black Mercedes with the blacked-out windows ahead of him. Wind whips by, caressing the parts of his body not covered in leather.

It’s cold. 

There’s a sound. A shot. Shit, he thinks. He hopes it’s someone’s exhaust backfiring. There’s too many people around for this. The Mercedes zooms across six lanes of traffic, taking the closest exit. Trying to lose him. 

He follows. He weaves between traffic on his bike, getting to the car, and he sees the other man leaning outside the window with a gun drawn, pointing in his direction. B grips his own, tight in his hand. He can see his steely grey eyes as he approaches, or maybe that’s just another memory. 

B shoots.

The man slumps. Lifeless.

There are lights behind him, red and blue.

A.

The day Light Yagami meets him, he’s wearing the watch his father gave him.

It’s still on Japanese time, where it shows it’s about four in the morning, there. Here, it’s noon. He yawns. He’s restless and jet-lagged, making his way through the customs and the terminal and baggage until he’s out the door and headed to the address he was given. 

5512 Highland Park.

The cab he climbed into forty minutes prior parks along the sidewalk of a rundown street. Apartments and small houses with chain-link fences dot the opposite side of the road; where he’s pulled up, a neon sign hangs, buzzing, the lights flickering and not really noticeable in the LA sun. Light notices the peeling, yellowing paint on the outside, the dead flowers in the flowerbeds, the rusted hinges of the dark green door; apparently, the only new renovation that Maple’s Bar & Grille has made in the past who-knows-how-long. 

Light looks at his watch. The time ticks away. He pays the cabbie, walks through the squeaking door and up the small step, and is quickly greeted by a waitress, who tells him to take a seat wherever.

He spots him.

In the booth off to the side, sipping on a Shirley Temple, with a coke on the side. A brown-haired, flannel-donning fellow staring down at the newspaper. Light can’t discern what the headline says from here, but the photo shows the destruction of a building. It’s from the L.A. Times. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. Light slides across from him in the booth. 

“Hello. Light Yagami.” He extends a hand. The American way. 

The man lifts his head. Takes a sip from the glass of sugar he drinks. His eyes bore into Light’s soul, unsettling him, deep in his core, not acknowledging his hand whatsoever. Light retracts it. 

“I’ve been waiting quite a while, you know.”

Light blinks. He looks away, tearing his gaze from the man sitting opposite him. He looks down at the menu on the sticky table. “The cab driver didn’t know where this place was.” 

“No? This is one of the more popular places around here.” The man looks at the bar, towards a bunch of drunk men, off of work and watching a game on the TV in the upper corner of the room. They don’t even notice them in the booth. Good, he thinks. They don’t need attention. “Call me B.”

2.

B is handcuffed. B is sitting in a chair, alone in a cell, with cement walls and cement floors and fluorescent lights that sting his tired eyes. They buzz. The sound is drowned out by people walking in and out of the jail, police talking, drunk people and others mumbling to themselves. 

He knows why he’s here. It replays in his head, over and over. The sound of gunshots, the squeal of tires, the sound of sirens, so many of them, blaring out along the highway. His ears seem to ring despite the hours that have passed. 

This is temporary. Soon, he knows, he’ll be back to square one. 

Was it worth it?

B.

Light and B meet up everyday for the next few days. It’s always the same restaurant, and the same booth, with varying waitresses, the same water, and the same man sat across from him. Papers have started making their way onto the booth. B looks at them with an intensity Light hasn’t seen before, other than in one person.

The one person they’re trying to take down.

“What’s your connection to him, anyway?” Light asks at this meeting, because for all he knows, this could be as impersonal as flicking one’s cigarette ashes on the floor. He watches B do this as he takes a sip off his water.

“Oh, that’s a little personal, isn’t it? Let’s just say we grew up together.” B replies. 

Light feels a jolt go through him; he didn’t know this. Not the specifics, at least. Proof of his name was enough to go through with this arrangement. “You grew up together? Then why are you doing this?”

“That’s really none of your business,” he snaps. “You’re paying me for a service. Be grateful it’s on the table.”

Which, Light supposes, is fair. He looks down at the newspaper in front of him, its headline emblazoned on the front cover:

L IN CONNECTION WITH INTERPOL; CRACKDOWN ON KIRA GROUP COMING.

3.

L Lawliet.

B hadn’t heard the name in years. Rather, he chose to ignore it, because seeing it now and again in the newspapers or on tv really didn’t help his case.

Too many years were spent left alone in that house. And then, alone in L.A., and then, around the world. And now, sitting in a cell, he counts on his fingers how many times he’s spent his days alone, thinking about him, and thinking about all the fucked up things that led to this point. 

He continues to wonder if it was worth it. He wonders if things could have been different, if L had just listened to him, had stayed, and had not pretended that B just didn’t exist after everything that happened in the house. 

L is dead. 

L is dead because of him. No longer is the World’s Greatest Detective but a corpse in the ground; and here he is, stuck in prison for it, because everyone knows he did it. They saw it. At least, everyone who knew who L really was knew it was him. He hasn’t seen the news at all, and probably won’t. He hopes to God, or the Devil, or any other force out there that can hear him, that L–or his place–doesn’t happen again.

C.

Light Yagami has his ducks in a row.

As a part-time investigator himself, he’s learned to always be one step ahead of the game. He’s learned to pay attention to his surroundings, to organize his thoughts before he speaks, to look at things from all sides. L got involved in the Kira Group case alongside him and the rest of the department he was working in, over in Japan. The L. The one that’s solved countless crimes around the world, some of the hardest, all under a pseudonym. For him to get involved meant he had his suspicions, and he knew where to look; in the very place where the police weren’t looking.

Light Yagami has played his cards right; working with groups like Yotsuba and third-parties, such as The Shinigami. Working between them, they’ve obtained quite a bit of money–here and there, of course, and Light turns a blind eye to the way the money is obtained. He’s only in control of how and where the money goes, of course. The rest is up to Ryuk, to gain it, while the accounts are hidden between Yotsuba’s various company expenses and profits. It works. So much, in fact, that they were able to transfer billions upon billions within a matter of months. 

He isn’t sure what caught L’s eye. Maybe it was a fuck up on Ryuk’s part, or something between Yotsuba, or maybe it was the sudden influx of profit and stocks and the company doing “well” on an international level. Maybe that was it. Light wouldn’t be surprised.

Light isn’t greedy. 

Light is, simply, bored.

It was never his intention to get L onto this case, but it makes for extra fun, he supposes. Doubling and tripling and quadrupling the work he usually does for the Kira Group, all for the sake of laughs, while dollar bills light up in the other’s eyes. And he knows he won’t be caught until L can connect him to any of these groups, which he never will.

Let him have his suspicions. Light knows he’ll get off scot-free.

4.

B remembers the first time he met L.

It was summer, and he was just a kid. Small, maybe around ten, tired from the flight, gripping balling his fists into the sleeves of his shirt. Summer here was colder than home. The mansion was somehow even colder.

It was nighttime. B doesn’t remember the exact time, but he was hungry. He didn’t go down for dinner; instead, he sat at his bed, looking at his minimal belongings. This was his room, now. This was his new home, but it didn’t feel like it. Nothing felt right. Not the windows, not the furniture, not the smell. It was unsettling, being here; like his whole life had been uprooted.

It had, but not because of the change in home.

He refused to think about it. Instead, B trotted out of his room, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was past curfew, and he didn’t want to get in trouble on his very first day. His stomach growled, but he didn’t know where the kitchen was; it wasn’t shown to him on his little tour around the house. He assumed it was past the dining room, somewhere downstairs, and after a little bit of wandering, he found it.

He found another boy there, too. With the man who had picked him up and showed him around. Maybe he was also new. He was eating dinner, soup, at a small table. The elder man smiled; he ladled another bowl for B, setting it across from the other boy. 

Despite how unsettling the day had been, it was comforting. It could be home.

Things weren’t supposed to end up like this.

D.

Light can feel L on his heels. He’s uncomfortably close to the end of this, and it’s suffocating. And thrilling. Scary, but electrifying; being in the same room as him, knowing what he knows, but knowing there’s nothing he can do about it just yet. 

L knows of The Shinigami Group. He’s asked about Ryuk, and has started researching who he is. There’s only so long until contact is made, and Light knows his connection is fairly solid, but not enough; if Ryuk goes down, so does he, and so does Yotsuba. He needs to do something. Anything. 

 Contact with B is a blessing in disguise. He doesn’t know who this B person is, but he claims to know L. He knows enough information that catches Light’s eye; details about his aliases, specific cases, his appearance, even knowledge of Watari’s role. It intrigues Light, because he isn’t sure what this person could possibly want from him, or why he’s contacting him.

He says he can help. He knows L is close to solving this case. Let him help.

Light books a trip to California. It’s sudden, but he says that between school and work, he’s really stressed out. His dad understands, even defends him; he’s working too hard on this case he’s not even technically being paid to do, while trying to figure out how to manage school in between. He needs time to himself to sort things out, and maybe a trip out by himself is what he needs. He wants to visit the forests up north, and maybe explore some of the other cities. A two week trip should be enough time for that.

So he goes. He spends part of the first week up in the Redwoods, goes down to San Francisco, and eventually gets to Los Angeles. 

This means, when L expects him back at headquarters by the weekend, that he really only has seventy-two hours to finalize things with B. They need to settle on a plan. 

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” B starts, sitting across from him in that same booth. Light thinks he must be sweltering under that leather jacket; it isn’t exactly cool in here. “I come back to Japan with you on an earlier flight. You need to find a way to get L out of headquarters. You know, he’s secretly an adrenaline junkie. Get him into the action. Did you already plan on the Yotsuba thing?”

Light nods. He looks down at his watch. Back at B. “Higuchi is greedy, it’ll take no time for him to want to get extra money. I just have to dangle it in front of him in just the right way.”

“Perfect. Arrange it so Higuchi will meet with…whoever, I don’t really give a fuck. Just get him at this location,” he insists, pointing at the Port of Tokyo on the map, “and L will eventually get there, too. I’ll do my job accordingly.”

“Right.” Light responds. “I would like to know more details about that, if you don’t mind.”

Dramatically, B sighs. “Don’t worry yourself. Nothing that a bike and a gun can’t take care of.”

5.

B is ready.

Light is ready.

It’s the day of. Light’s been on edge all day. The whole group has been on edge; they all know they’re on to something big, and they’re about to crack it.

L’s learned of Higuchi, of Yotsuba, of the laundering. At least, part of it, but Light knows better than anyone else here this is just a big red herring. He really thought L would know better. He supposes not, because here he is, taking the bait. Is it for show? Does he really believe it?

He doesn’t know.

It’s close to midnight, and Aizawa and Ide have been tracking Higuchi all day, between the live feed on their screens to monitored calls (thanks to Wedy, who was only there for a few days). L climbs into the front seat on the passenger’s side, where Light can drive. 

Light starts driving to the location. L sits, hands gripping his knees, tense. Police are starting to arrive towards the location; they’re receiving live updates about their statuses throughout.

“Heading south, about twenty minutes from location,” Light says into the receiver.

“Got that. We’re watching Higuchi right now.” Aizawa’s voice reports. “There doesn’t seem to be much going on.”

L hums. Light grips the steering wheel.

“We have enough evidence to arrest him already,” Light says. “Why are we holding off?”

“We need sufficient, hard evidence. This will be enough.” L grits.

“The bank statements aren’t enough?”

B was right. L is an adrenaline junkie. Light sees the way his eyes change, and he knows this isn’t just for evidence; it’s so he can say he did it. So he can say he was right. He caught one of the largest white collar criminals the world has ever seen.

Light looks in the rearview mirror. He sees the bike. He hears a shot. L looks in the side mirror, and sees the same. 

“We’re being followed.”

“Shit,” Light mutters. He speeds up, trying to weave between traffic. His heart is racing. He’s trying to stay calm. “Do you think–”

Another shot. This one hits the car.

L reaches into his pocket and grabs his gun. “Keep driving.”

He leans out the window.

Light hears a shot.

And then, L slumps.

E.

B realizes, far too late, that working with Light was the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

He sees it from behind the bars of his cell. Sentenced to life, sitting in San Quentin State Prison. Found guilty of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder. He’s not surprised in the slightest. He held up his end of the deal.

Light didn’t.

Instead, he let him be arrested. Had his team follow him, get him arrested, extradited back to the States. He got his money, but not for long. He sits alone, biding the rest of the time he has on Earth, eating shitty prison food and fighting with inmates and ending up in solitary for a few weeks. He watches stupid reruns of Law and Order and reads books and occasionally steals a newspaper off of his cellmate.

That’s how he sees Light Yagami come up in the world. He sees him becoming what L used to be. He reads about how Yotsuba was dissolved, but other companies–smaller ones, like Yotsuba once was–grow into the large, influential entities they are. It’s because of him. All of it.

He thought he got what he wanted. It was just another way for business, and it shouldn’t have been personal, but oh, it was. He knew that as soon as he pulled the trigger, as soon as he met Light Yagami at that stupid little restaurant in that stupid, sticky booth.

B didn’t want that. He needed something from L, something permanent to soothe the pain of everything between them, but death was something that stuck; the bullet, an indefinite solution, holding his anger, his resentment, his grief and sadness.

He’s paying for it, now. He knows that well enough.

So B sits.

He thinks of the watch Light Yagami wore.

—

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 11

Let's mainline some angst, shall we?

(Don't forget to check the Master List for previous segments)

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 1,483

Content advisory: language and some toxic relationship stuff that some might find disturbing/ upsetting

You smack your arm on the corner of a crate of equipment as you pass. It hurts and it’s probably going to leave a bruise but you don’t care. There are other people around but you hardly see them. If any of them is trying to talk to you, you can’t hear them because the blood pounding in your ears blocks everything else out. You’re on a mission. You’re going to kill the son of a bitch.

It occurs to you that maybe you should grab something so that you might look a little threatening. If there wasn’t still action going on in the ring, you’d run out and see what was stashed under it. That’s where all the potential weapons are kept, right?

You keep replaying the backstage scene in your head. One minute Juice and David are there, pumped from winning their match and talking about challenging for the tag titles again and then they’re just ambushed, a coward’s attack.

Son of a bitch. You’re going to murder him when you find him.

His voice gives him away, always too loud because he wants to make it impossible to focus on anyone but him. And although you can’t hear much of the sound around you, that voice cuts right through. You find him sitting with Chris Bey, of course, the two of them laughing and carrying on. He turns to face you, smile still plastered on his face, but his eyes are predatory. He wanted this showdown. You’ve played into his hands but you don’t care because he’s taken things too far.

At first, David had withstood the attack well enough, he’d gotten some blows in. But it wasn’t a fair fight. Jay had been fresh and knew what was coming. Even then, he’d resorted to smashing a heavy palette with equipment cases right into David’s prone body. It was at that point that you’d covered your face but the sounds were bad enough.

As soon as you’d made sure that David was off to get checked by the doctor, you’d started hunting down his nemesis. Your nemesis.

“Uh-oh, looks like he sent his muscle after you,” Bey croons as you enter the room.

“Damn right. She’s the scary one,” Jay laughs.

“You sleazy bastard,” you snarl. “You pompous little chickenshit. What the hell were you trying to prove?”

“Look out man, I think you pissed her off.”

“You think this is pissed off? This is what she’s like when she’s happy.”

The two of them crack up laughing again.

“Get the hell out, Chris,” you seethe. “I have to talk to your new boss alone.”

He glances at Jay who gives him a little nod, then makes his way out of the room, acting like he’s scared of you.

“Are you not enjoying the show tonight, angel?”

“If you ever pull anything like that again…”

“That’s the job. If he can’t handle a few punches then maybe he should go work as a crossing guard or a data entry clerk or something. Might be easier for him, now that I think about it. Less chance of being a complete failure.”

“The job is to make audiences believe in what they’re seeing, not to actually hurt people.”

“Hey, I’m the one getting hurt. He stole my shot at the title in Japan. He stole my girlfriend. You should be feeling sorry for me, not him.”

You aren’t quite able to hide the surge of feeling you get when you hear him call you his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, you tell yourself.

“You leave him alone. Have your big big blow off match since that’s what you want so much. Then you get on a plane back to Japan and stay there. You don’t come near him otherwise.”

“Strange that they haven’t told you yet.”

He knows something you don’t and although you hate to play into his hands, you can’t help but do so.

“Who hasn’t told me what?”

“New Japan. They’re doing more shows in America. A bunch of them. So they needed to bring in some star power. I guess they’re trying to figure out who’s going to do all this liaising or whatever you’re calling it.”

“I can handle a little extra work.”

“You’re not going to be doing it.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re going to get me fired? And I’m supposed to be all scared like I could never get any other job?”

“Fired? Of course not. You’ll always have a job as long as I’m around.”

He stands and moves closer to you, running his fingers up your forearm with an unkind smirk.

“Stop that. I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Believe me, I know. I think about it all the time.”

You back away, trying unsuccessfully to avoid getting pinned against the wall.

“I am going to beat him. I am going to humiliate him. There’s nothing you can do about that.” He leans in close and continues, “But whatever else happens, that’s up to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you: I can make it so that he can’t get work at anything larger than a midwestern bingo hall. But I’m a generous man, so I’ll leave it in your hands.”

You stare at him, hoping he’s not implying what you think. His cheeks are flushed with excitement. He’s winning and he knows it.

“You come back to work for me. You forget this silly fling you’re having and get back to what’s important. And if you do that, I’ll let your little boyfriend keep his job.”

“Are you for real? That is sick, Jay, even by your standards! You want me to whore myself out to you to protect the man I love? What sort of tacky 19th-century melodrama are you living in?”

At the sound of the words “the man I love”, you can see something dark pass over his features. It takes him a long moment to compose himself before he takes both your hands in his and presses them to his lips, kissing them and letting his tongue slide over the skin.

“I know it’s my fault. You felt neglected and so you ran to the person you knew was desperate to please you. And when I got you back so quickly-”

You flinch the second you hear that but you grips your arms tight and continues.

“I clearly didn’t express some things well enough. If my reactions seem extreme, it’s actually because I want the drama over with. Sweet though I’m sure he is, David Finlay is a distraction for you. So consider this me protecting you from your own bad instincts.”

This is one of those moments, and there have been a number of them over the years, when you wish that Jay would haul off and punch you the way he would if you were a man; like somehow it would be easier to take if the two of you could just get in a fist fight than engaging in this sort of dialogue. The wounds would heal faster.

Everything he’s saying is about his ego, manipulative and self-serving and yet you know it would be so easy to lean in, to let him kiss you which you can tell he wants to do. He still occupies a space inside your head, big enough that no matter what sort of bullshit he’s spouting, you feel obliged to consider it.

“No,” you snap, twisting to get out of his grip. “Not this time. Get your hands off me.”

His hold on you tightens.

“Jay, I’m serious, let me go right now or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Let her go.”

David’s voice slices right through, an unusually dark tone behind it.

Jay laughs a little and waits for a few seconds before releasing you and stepping back to allow you to leave. You scramble clear and grab hold of David’s arm, gasping like you’ve been held underwater. At first you don’t notice the look passing between them but when you do, it almost frightens you. There’s real violence in it, real hatred. You’ve been watching the two of them bond and square off for years, you’ve seen the bitterness, envy, and insecurity they’ve raised in each other but never anything like this. They’d look like animals preparing to tear into each other if the emotions on their faces weren’t so uniquely human.

“Come on,” you whisper, gently tugging on David’s hand. Every muscle is tensed, all the way up to his neck and you’re worried that you’re not going to be able to stop a fight. “Please,” you whimper.

David relaxes just a little and leans back without ever taking his eyes from Jay’s. He doesn’t move to leave on his own but he lets you lead him away very slowly. It feels like a long time before you’re able to pull him close to you.

[d0llhousess]

⇢ fandom: daiya no ace ⇢ pairing: miyuki kazuya  x f!reader ⇢ genre: angst ⇢ warning/tags: exes to friends to lovers, so much angst it’s ridiculous, angst w/ hopeful ending, mild language, pining, coffeeshop!au basically, pro player!miyuki 

⇢ summary: you met him at the wrong time of your life, yet fate has awarded you a second chance to fall in love with him once again. ⇢ word count: approx. 3k 

⇢ a/n: let me tell you, being hit with a massive wave of insecurity about your writing through the week you post the most is not fun but like yooo here we are. This is Day 3, and I hope you enjoy it! I’m not too happy with how this came out, but I do hope it reads well for you guys.

⤆ Back to Week of Fic’s Masterlist

It’s hard to recall the moment you first fell in love with Miyuki Kazuya. 

You were young, in your teens, navigating through highschool in the best way possible. He was just a mutual friend of yours; someone to just say ‘hey’ to  when you spoke to Kuramochi. You couldn’t quite remember what led to the two of you hanging out more and eventually going on a few dates, but you clearly remembered the emotions he elicited from you. 

Being with him made all your problems fade to the background, it made you feel, believe, that you were on top of the world. Being in love with Miyuki Kazuya was an experience like no other. Yet, you weren’t his first love. You didn’t hold his heart like he did yours, and eventually the dates faded. He stopped making time for you, and you stopped pushing to be a part of his life. In hindsight, your issues could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation, but both of you were young.  

So, instead of soft words explaining how neglected you felt, your feelings exploded into hurtful, sharp phrases that led to the demise of your relationship. Gone were the lingering touches in the hallways, the soft good luck kisses before a game, the playful teasing remarks between the two of you. He’d faded into a stranger, and when the both of you graduated high school, you stopped seeing him all together. 

There were nights you would replay your relationship in your mind, you would linger on your regret of never mending the bridge between the two of you, because him leaving your life left a slight hole in your heart. Yet, the loudest part in your brain never failed to remind you that communication was a two way street, and that if he truly loved you, he would’ve fought for your relationship. 

But that loud part of your brain didn’t stop you from scrolling though his Instagram feed in the late hours of the night. It didn’t stop you from lingering on the sports article that covered him going pro, and it definitely did not stop you from sinking into a deep funk when news broke of his engagement. 

If you were honest, you felt a bit pathetic. You were still hung up on your highschool sweetheart, and he was about to get married.     

Honestly, how pitiful could you get? 

So, instead of holding onto your dead relationship, you allowed yourself to relive the emotions the relationship elicited out of you. You allowed yourself to come to the terms that while Miyuki was terrible at communication, you were too. 

You both were too young, too immature,  for the seriousness of your relationship, and that was okay. It was okay that things didn’t work out. Sure, lighting doesn't strike twice in the same place, but you were too young to even realize that lighting had struck.  It was okay to have regrets because that’s how life was. It was rare to have the perfect conclusion to, well, anything, and with that realization you were finally able to move on. 

As the years passed, you chased your passions. You attended culinary school, and graduated which eventually led to you opening your own local cafe. It wasn’t much, but it was your own warm little abode that you’d built from the ground up. It was a physical representation of your hard work, and you couldn't be more proud of it. 

Through those years, you didn’t think much about Miyuki. You didn’t scroll through his feed for updates. When you saw a sport’s article with his name in bold letters, you’d turn away from it. He was a person of your past, and you were content with that. You didn’t need to know how he was doing, what he was up to, because you were over him. 

Well you were over him until he walked into your coffee shop. 

It was a normal winter day. The city streets have been recently plowed because of frequent snowfall; the air was bitingly cold, yet the warmth of your cafe brought in a decent amount of customers who couldn’t wait to get their daily fix of caffeine or sweet treat. 

Your mind had been occupied with getting each customer served, that when you heard the familiar chime of the front door’s bell, you only called out a light greeting, not looking up from the cash register as you logged in the current customer’s order. Yet, when you lifted your head, mouth parting to recite your practiced greeting to the next customer, you felt the words die on your tongue. 

Your eyes widened, gaze locking with bright amber eyes that you’d only seen in pictures over the past few years. Your heart speeds up in your chest, and it takes everything in you to still your shaking hands. Never in your life did you expect for him to waltz into your coffee shop, fixing you with that crooked smirk that always seems to make your thoughts stutter. 

You blink once, then twice, before you allow a professional smile to spread onto your face. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” You greeted, head tilting as you hoped  that he didn’t notice the way your brain short circuited just moments before, “What can I get for you, Miyuki?”

“I hope you aren’t saying I aged bad,” He immediately responded, drawing out a soft giggle from you. 

You shook your head, denying his claim, because no matter how much you did not want to admit it, he became even more handsome with age. You allowed your gaze to roam over his features as he gazed over the menu that hung above your head. 

You noted how he’d grown just a bit taller, how despite years passing he somehow had the same style of black frames that he had in high school, and how his features seemed to be more pronounced. Before you could linger over his face any longer, you quickly snapped your gaze to the digital screen of your cash register, because you could not be caught checking out your high school ex. 

“What do you suggest?” You hear him ask, and you lick your lip as you thought about your answer, recalling the seasonal drink options and your usual menu. 

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” You eventually respond, turning your gaze back to the man on the other side of the counter, “If you’re feeling festive we have an array of cinnamon or ginger based drinks, yet if you’re a fan of more simple drinks, we have your basic cappuccinos and lattes.” 

 Shifting your stance, you watch as he mulls over your response, eyes still firmly locked on the menu before he waved his hand in an indifferent manner. 

“Just make me your favorite drink.” 

You nod, immediately logging in the order, refusing to allow yourself to think too deeply about the request. He was just here to get coffee. He was just another customer. He was just Miyuki. 

After you told him the total and he paid, you began to work on his drink. You ignored the way he seemed to watch you buzz around behind the counter. You refused to glance at him again. No, you solely focused on the task at hand. 

Once you finished his order, you handed it to him over the counter, ignoring the slight sting of electricity that shot up your arm as your fingers brushed against each other. You watched as he brought the cup to his lips before taking a small sip of the drink, eyes fluttering shut briefly before they met your gaze once again. 

“Oh this is good,” He mummers, and you open your mouth to explain what's in the drink, yet he holds up his hand to stop you. 

“I don’t need to know what’s in it.” He explains, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. 

“But how will you order it again if you don’t know what it is?” 

Miyuki is quiet for a moment, bright eyes roaming over your face as he leans against the counter, “How often are your shifts here?” 

You blink at the question, a bit confused at what he was getting at, “Uh, I’m here nearly everyday.” 

The smirk that spreads onto Miyuki’s full lips and it lets know that you’d fallen for something, yet you’re still unsure of exactly what that something is. 

“Perfect, then you’ll just have to take my order every time I come, right?” He chirps, taking another sip from his coffee cup. 

“Um,” You begin to say, but before a full sentence leaves your lips, he’s already bidding you goodbye, leaving just as fast as he came. 

Throughout the rest of your workday, you’re plagued with thoughts about Miyuki and why on earth did he come to your cafe. Fuck, how did he even find out about your cafe. You attempted to push the thoughts away from your mind, yet they still plagued you even after you’d closed. 

The next day, Miyuki comes into your coffee shop again, but this time he lingers. 

It was a slower day for the cafe; your usual morning rush wasn’t that heavy so you knew who he was the moment the bell chime rang through the nearly empty coffee shop. Immediately, you began to go through the process of making his drink, handing it to him as you began to ring him up.

“Slow day, innit?” He commented, and a small smile played onto your lips.

“Yeah, but that gives me more time to do other things besides just making drinks,” You responded before telling him the price of his drink. 

He handed you the exact amount of money you’d said, causing your brows to raise in slight surprise, but you don’t comment on it. Instead of leaving right after he received his coffee, he remained in your cafe, eyes lingering on your form as you cleaned up your work space. 

He asked you questions, seemingly catching up with all of the things he missed in the years you’d grown apart, and fuck did this puzzle you. Why on earth did Miyuki just randomly breeze back into your life? Why was he behaving as if the last conversation the two of you held didn’t end in scathing words and tears? 

You wanted to ask him this, to demand answers on how he learned about your little cafe, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. You were afraid of the answers to those questions, and seeing him again, even for a few minutes, brought a sense of peace in your life. 

When you gazed into his amber eyes, you felt as if it was the very first time you’d seen him all those years ago. You’d missed the banter he brought, you missed his jeering, you missed him. You wished you could press rewind on the clock, to go back to the very moment of your relationship’s demise, yet you couldn’t. 

Besides, you were getting ahead of yourself. To him, you were sure he just viewed this as catching up with an old classmate. He was happily engaged, and just engaging in a purely friendly conversation. At least, you thought he was engaged until he informed you that he’d broken off the engagement nearly a year ago. You don’t have much time to respond to him after this confession, because he’s wishing you a goodbye. 

Yet, just like the day before, your thoughts are riddled with him. 

You can’t help the bubble of curiosity in your chest. Did he seek you out for a sense of familiarity after a failed engagement? Was it purely chance that he’d walked into your cafe? You didn’t know, and frankly you were slightly afraid of the answer, but you knew that you needed to ask him these questions. 

It takes weeks for you to build up the courage to ask him the questions that swarmed in your mind the moment he left your eyesight. 

Sure, he still came to your cafe, ordering the same thing nearly everyday, engaging you in light conversation topics that filled in the gaps of the years you’d miss of his life. He told you about university, about the pro league, about how he was in general. Yet, his engagement was never brought up. 

He’d ask you about your life, and you’d found yourself telling him about it rather candidly. You told him about the slight funk you fell into after graduation (of course you didn’t tell him the reason for the funk), about culinary school, about opening the cafe. 

The unspoken questions linger in the air between the two of you, and though you find yourself tentatively growing closer to the man that visited your coffee shop nearly everyday, there was something actively holding you back from him. 

So, when he walked through the door of your cafe after nearly a month of being your number one customer, you decided that this is the day that you’d ask the questions that’d been causing you to keep him at arm's length. You fall into the routine of fixing his drink, and as you hand it to him, instead of giving him your usual playful greeting, a question falls from your lips in a jumbled up mess. 

 “How on earth did you find out about my cafe?” 

Miyuki’s gaze widens behind those black frames, and his usual smirk is dropped from his face. The pair of you look at eachother, minds filling with unspoken words, and the nearly empty cafe is so quiet that you’re sure he can hear your heart hammering away in your chest. 

“How about we talk about this after you close?” He offers, and you nod as he paid for his coffee (the exact amount of cash like always), and bid you farewell. 

The rest of your day is spent in an anxiety induced haze, until you’re flipping the open sign closed. Nursing a cup of your favorite warm beverage, you wait for Miyuki at one of your window seats and a mere five minutes pass before he’s walking into the cafe, discarding his snow littered coat. He sits beside you, thanking you for the drink you’d prepared for him as well. 

The two of you are quiet, unsure where to start. Years of tension hang in the air, and you can feel your leg begin to bounce out of sheer nervousness. You hear Miyuki chuckle softly and your eyes shift to his grinning face. You raise a  singular brow in question, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s just funny how you still do that,” He comments, and you then halt your bouncing leg, soft laughter breezing through the warm air of the cafe. 

“You know what they say,” You responded, facing him fully with a soft smile, “Old habits die hard.”

Miyuki’s grin melts into a smile that mirrors your own, and just a bit of the tension dissipates. You open your mouth to apologize for the rather random question that led the both of you to your current position, yet before you can even utter a word, he begins to tell you about the events that led him to your cafe. 

He told you about how devastated your breakup left him, about how you broke his heart, about how he knew he broke your heart as well. He tells you about how thoughts of you plagued his mind all throughout your time apart, about how he yearned for a simple “do over.” Then, he begins to tell you about his  engagement. A part of you wants to tell him to stop, because you don’t want to hear about the man you’d loved for years falling in love with another person. 

Yet, you allow him to continue because he needs to get this off his chest, and you need to hear it. 

You listen to him as he recounts the engagement, at how the relationship deteriorated into something toxic simply because he refused to let go of his love for you. Your hands began to shake around your coffee mug as you listened to him admit that the reason called off his engagement was because of you.

You nearly begin to cry. 

You don’t know what to think, what to say. 

A part of you wants to throw your arms around him, to weep into his chest about how much you missed him, but another part needs him to finish recounting his tale. So you anchor yourself to your seat, encouraging him to continue. 

Finally, he tells you about how he heard about your little cafe. He tells you about how Kuramochi mentioned it in mere passing when they were catching up, and about how he couldn’t resist seeing you again.  By now, your heart is beating so heavily in your chest, that it’s nearly hard to breathe. 

Here he was laying his heart out bare for you to judge, to even reject. He wasn’t the boy that you’d turned your back on all those years ago. He didn’t brush off your questions with jokes, no, he answered them truthfully. 

He was being vulnerable with you, and never in a million years would you have expected Miyuki Kazuya to approach you with his heart in his hands. You exhale shakily, hands removing themselves from your now cool mug, before you placed a soft hand over his larger one. 

“Kazuya,” You breathed out, facing him fully, if he could bare his heart to you, then you could do the same, “I never stopped loving you.”  Your confession fills the air between the two of you, and your hand squeezes his closed fist that rested on top of the table.

 “Even after all these years, Kazuya,” You whispered to him,“I’m still in love with you.” 

A mere second passes before his lips are on yours, and the same electricity you felt clap through your body from your very first kiss with him, strikes through you. Goosebumps littered your forearms as you melted into his embrace, pressing your body even more closer to his. 

Apparently, lighting did strike in the same place twice.

[universemarvel]

The time Peter should have FIRST called Mr. Stark “Tony.”

By @universemarvel for @sdottkrames

Rating: general audiences

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary: an irondad one shot where Peter gets... hurt., and handles it in a Peter Parker Way™️. Tony is honestly just trying his best okay?!?

Part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on ao3 here

Or continue reading via tumblr here...

~

“Peter!”

The kid jumps and his head snaps towards his mentor. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“What are you doing?” Tony held his coffee mug up in front of his mouth in a poor attempt to hide the smile on his face.

Peter looked down to his messy table, which was occupied by empty blue and silver snack wrappers, drinks, and his Spider-Man suit, which he was currently scrubbing with a sponge. He picked up one of the wrappers that still had some did in it. “I’m... trying all the pop tart flavors,” he said, taking a bite out of the pastry.

“You feeling alright?” It’s not often he could walk up unnoticed upon Peter.

But Peter just smiled. “A little lightheaded from the sugar rush, but otherwise fine;” his smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Why?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why are you scrubbing your suit with a sponge? I’m sure there’s a dishwashing machine somewhere in this building,” he finally revealed his smile.

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Is the suit dishwasher safe? Because that would actually be great.”

Tony laughed. “I’m not answering that. What happened? And please don’t tell me you’re hand scrubbing your multi-million dollar suit because you forgot to put on deodorant.”

Pink painted Peter’s cheeks as he smiled and shook his head. “No, I just got something on it and it stinks. Do you want to smell it?” He offered the suit up, and Tony took a step back reflexively.

“No thanks, kiddo, I’m rather enjoying my coffee at the moment. However, I do have a decontamination gadget for a reason, so let’s throw it in there for a few hours so we can go back upstairs for dinner. That is, if you’re still hungry after eating New York’s entire stock of pop tarts.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Peter smiled, “and if your cleany-box doesn’t work, can we try the dishwasher?”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

After dinner, the pair found themselves scrolling through Netflix. Peter’s lightheadedness from earlier had slowly been developing into a headache, but he didn’t want to bother Tony with it.

He didn’t feel like watching a movie, which he figured was a red flag, but he picked a Star Wars movie to avoid raising suspicion.

“Are you sure?” Tony’s voice pulled Peter from his attempts to distract himself from his headache.

“Am I sure...about what?”

Tony eyed him suspiciously, and Peter tried to think of what he did that was out of the ordinary so he could reverse it.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Tony squinted his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Correction-“ his mentor rolled his eyes; “do you have any pain at all?”

Peter shook his head, still trying to figure out what his giveaway behavior was. “Why?”

Tony crossed his arms. “Because we watched this movie last night.”

Peter’s breath caught, and he reached for a lie. He shrugged. “I feel like you didn’t appreciate it enough the first time.” His mind replayed the evening before. “Aaand you fell asleep, so technically you can’t say you watched it last night.”

Tony’s mouth was still pressed in a thin line, revealing his doubts, but he just shook his head. “Okay,” he gave in, “but don’t make me regret this.”

Peter smiled, hoping the well-known noises from the familiar film would minimize his headache’s growth.

__________

Still in the process of waking up, he was glad the room was so nice and quiet. He knew he was still at the tower because it was always loud at his apartment. His headache was gone, and realizing he was in his room at the tower, he wondered with a start how he’d gotten back here from the living room; he figured he must’ve been pretty tired last night to have been so out of it.

He waits for the noises of the tower to reach him, but they don’t. He sits up quickly, somehow quietly. Too quietly. He looks down at the sheets, and runs his hands back and forth on them. He can’t hear them, and his eyes widen. He can see his chest is moving quicker with his increased breathing pace, but he can’t hear that either.

He brings his fingers to his ears and snaps.

Nothing. He tries again, watching his hand this time to make sure he snaps correctly, still nothing.

He feels true panic swell up in his chest, and jumps out of bed. He rushes to put a shirt and a pair of pants on, and the silence of his movements scares him; he feels like he’s watching a movie on mute, except he’s never not heard at least his own breathing. He opened the door, and paused; the silence of the hallway greeted him like a wave, rushing into his head with an overwhelming ringing he feels rather than hears.

It hurts.

On second thought, he closed the bedroom door again, shutting himself off from the hallway. It had to have been whatever chemical was on the suit. The suit which was now decontaminated and as clean as it had been new. How helpful would it be going to Mr. Stark without any information? Maybe if he could retrace his steps from yesterday, he could find out what the chemical was. He glanced at the clock, and saw it was 7:15. Tony wouldn’t be awake for several hours still, so Peter could get a head start until then. If all went well, Peter could even analyze the sample and neutralize it before Tony was up for his usual weekend 11 am breakfast.

__________

Peter made it to the spot he’d been sprayed by the bad-smelling stuff by 8 o’clock. He landed, slowly turning around to assess the area. It was a bright alleyway, lit from the morning sun’s reflection off a nearby skyscraper, but was still secluded and generally ignored by passerby’s due to it being a dead end street, blocked off by a wall of brick apartment.

He realized that he hadn’t said anything to Karen, who had no doubt been talking to him since he put the mask on; he wondered what she had been saying, and felt partly guilty for what was probably perceived as him ignoring her.

He didn’t want to tell her he couldn’t hear, however, for fear of some hidden protocol that would alert Tony, so he did his best to try to sound natural, a difficult task given that he couldn’t hear himself.

“Hey Karen,” he said, and paused. What did she normally say to him? Ask him how he was doing? How he slept? She would have for sure commented that she was glad to see him, but her usual trail of discussion had probably been derailed by the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged anything she’d said throughout the entire trip thus far.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” he said after giving her a chance to talk, “everything’s fine, I’m just trying to find something. Here. For Mr. Stark.”

He waited a beat, hoping he wasn’t cutting her off or waiting too long to respond, but honestly he had no idea.

“Could you help me find any synthetic chemicals on the walls or ground here? I’m looking for the stuff I got sprayed with yesterday.”

If she replied, he didn’t know, but he was glad to see diagnostics pull up as Karen began to highlight a plethora of invisible substances in the environment around him. With each one that pulled up, Karen did a quick calculation as to what it was.

He scanned his surroundings; urine, vomit, urine, blood, urine, some more urine, a few unidentifiable splotches, but he could tell from their location and position that they weren’t what he was looking for.

His shoulders slumped forwards, and he frowned.

He saw a shadow grow forward into the alleyway, and jumped around in a twist to see what was there. It was just a garbage truck, but the fact that it was now looming over him in the alleyway without him knowing it was even there still had his blood running cold. He jumped onto the wall and started climbing. Halfway up, Tony’s face appeared on his display. He realized it was an incoming call, and too late requested, “Karen don’t answer!” As the call connected through.

He couldn’t hear anything of course, and knowing Tony was currently talking to him made his breath quicken. Also the fact that it wasn’t even 9 am, which was early — and therefore abnormal, for Tony.

“Hi Mr. Stark,” he greeted as happily as he could. “I’m, uh, climbing up this wall at the moment, can I, uh, can I call you back later?”

He hoped Mr. Stark said yes, and he wished he’d have video called so Peter could see his expression and attempt to read his lips, but he couldn’t. Instead he quickly exhaled “Karen, hang up,” and watched as the call disconnected. He climbed onto the roof, and hoped that Karen’s compliance to hang up meant that Tony hadn’t said anything too important. Besides, Peter should probably head back to the tower anyways to start figuring out what was wrong.

Now that he was on the roof, however, he was met with another wave of panic as the view of the skyline met him. He looked at the silent scene of a busy New York City morning, down the streets where he knew cars were still honking, people were talking, phones were ringing, and kids were yelling while they played on their weekend, a morning free from school. He knew it was going on, and he was missing it. Sure, this was every day for a lot of people, but he was Spider-Man. His job required his ears.

As if to prove his point, his spider sense flared up, and he fell to the ground. He looked around, not knowing why or where it had come from, but he didn’t see anything. Was he even the one in danger, or was it alerting him that someone else needed his help? After nothing happened for another moment, he ran to the side of the building and looked down. The scene he saw was normal, people walking, cars driving, even the alleyway he had come from was clear. His spider sense was still pulsing though, so he ran to the next side of the rooftop, frantically looking towards the street.

His eyes immediately found the scene, a car crash. It had just happened, and he wondered if he’d have been able to prevent it if he’d been able to hear. He didn’t know if they’d crashed before or after he’d felt the warning, although experience told him it was the latter. He swung down to the scene, and saw the driver open their door and fall out of the car. He ran up to her, seeing the passenger seat was empty, and helped her to her feet.

“Are you alright ma’am?” He asked, and not seeing any blood on her or problem with standing on her own, he thought so. Except her expression was still extremely worried, and she was talking, yelling maybe, but Peter couldn’t tell what she was saying. She then stumbled forward. Peter caught her, confused as to what she was going on for. She had just been in a motor vehicle accident, after all, so maybe a bit of odd behavior could be expected? He wished he could hear her to be sure.

She pointed back to the car. He looked, but didn’t see anything in the seats, besides boxes that had fallen in the back; other people were approaching the car now, too, trying to open the crushed back door. His spider sense was still calling, and he wondered what was in the back that could be dangerous. What everyone but him currently knew of. He turned back to face the woman, but she just grabbed his arm with a grip that told him that Something was Not OK and brought him around to the back, tears on her face now. The driver of the other vehicle ran up to them, saying something, before turning and walking anxiously with them. Confused, Peter cautiously followed them to the car, pushing past other people.

He suddenly saw behind the boxes in the back seat that there was a baby car seat, spider-sense screaming, and he was pretty sure he cursed out loud. He darted past the woman, pushed past the small, struggling crowd, and tugged the jammed car door, ripping if half off its hinges. He pushed the boxes out of the way to get to the baby. He tore the seatbelt in half to let the car seat loose, and handed the entire seat to the woman.

He glanced at the baby, happy and relieved to see her alive— crying but unharmed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The mother unbuckled her, smiling now, and seeing that the scene was okay to go on without him, Peter left.

He swung away, away to a rooftop surrounded by nothing but open sky, and crumpled to the ground.

His spider-sense didn’t stop. He didn’t feel safe anymore. His chest tightened, and he felt like his airway was closing. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on breathing in, slowly, breathing out, slowly. Repeating it. His fingers dug into the rough artificial ground.

Someone could be screaming right next to him, and he wouldn’t even know it.

He could see something flashing even through his closed eyelids, and opened his eyes to see this at his display had changed.

Next to a transparent box showing his elevated vital signs, Mr. Stark’s concerned face was on the screen. He said something, but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t hear you, Mr. Stark,” he said, hoping his voice was louder than a whisper, “I can’t hear you.”

Tony frowned, typing something on his screen and saying something else Peter hoped wasn’t supposed to be directed at him, and at once a new message popped up on the screen, all systems online and functioning correctly.

Peter just shook his head again. “I’ll be right there,” he said, “I’m heading back to the tower now. Please meet me there, please.” And he hung up before Tony could try to tell him something again.

He had to take four breaks on his short trip back to the tower, just to breathe. He felt like he was dying, but he hadn’t been hit by anything, so he couldn’t be. It painfully reminded him of an asthma attack like those he used to have pre-powers.

But, unlike those past times when he wouldn’t have even been able to stand, every time he caught his breath even just enough to stand up again, he forced himself to keep going. He was so afraid to see someone get hurt, or worse, without him being there to prevent it from happening. His never relenting spider-sense made him feel like people were getting hurt around him; it made him feel blind, like he couldn’t see things he knew were there.

It wasn’t even 10 am when he arrived back at the tower, but Peter fell into the tower window, gasping. He saw Mr. Stark stand up in surprise at Peter on the floor, before rushing over to him. Peter pushed himself up so he was sitting, and ripped off his mask. He felt the tears on his face and didn’t know how long he’d been crying for. He just wished he could hear the voice of his mentor as he stopped in front of him.

Peter reached forward and grabbed his shirt, seeing that the man was trying to talk to him.

Peter cried, “I can’t hear, Mr. Stark; I can’t hear you.”

Mr. Stark pulled him to his feet, touching Peter’s chin so that Peter could see his face, and tried to say something else. Peter shook his head. “I can’t hear you,” he repeated, “I can’t— I can’t hear anything.”

Mr. Stark pulled Peter into a hug, where they stayed until Peter could feel his heart rate slow and his breathing calm down. He pulled away to wipe his eyes. Mr. Stark gently took his arm and led him into the lab, where he handed Peter a metal device shaped like a pencil. He pressed a button and a nearly (but not quite) opaque holographic blank screen popped up in Peter’s face out of the long side of the not-pencil, making a sort of hand-held paper in Peter’s hand.

Suddenly the words, “can you understand me now?” Typed into the screen, and Peter looked up. Tony said something else, and the words, “it usually works pretty well, just let me know if something doesn’t make sense” appeared. Peter raised a confused and interested eyebrow.

“This is neat,” he said curiously. “Why do you have this?”

Tony shrugged, and started speaking. Then, “It’s not the first time I’ve had deaf friends hanging out in the tower, you know.” Peter didn’t know that, but didn’t ask further. Whoever it was had his respect, though.

“So do you have any clues?” Tony’s question popped up on the holographic tablet.

Peter shrugged. “Pretty sure it was whatever I got sprayed with last night.”

“Makes sense. You were pretty out of it yesterday you slept through most of the movie and didn’t even wake up when I carried you to bed.” Peter scrunched his eyebrows at the image.

Tony went on. “When did it kick in?”

Peter cocked his head to the side; “what do you mean?”

“What time did your hearing go away this morning?”

Peter shrugged. “Sometime last night.”

He looked at the screen, then at Tony when nothing appeared. Tony was staring at him with an expression Peter had seen before, usually when he’d done something wrong.

Tony spoke, and Peter was for once glad he had good reason to look away to understand him.

“So. You woke up. Your first morning missing a pretty important sense. And decided to go out as the crime-fighting, life-saving, danger-seeking Spider-Man?”

Peter didn’t know if the punctuation on the screen was intentional, but it helped give him an idea of how Tony sounded.

“Ummm, not exactly,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the screen; it was weird talking and not hearing your own voice, and Peter partially wondered if he was talking too loud. “I went to see if I could find a sample of whatever was in the, uh, the spray.”

Tony turned to the table beside him and pushed a button. Silent videos from social media popped up of Spider-Man helping a woman to her feet, then pulling a baby from a crushed car. He had to admit that even without sound, he looked a little lost.

He glanced back at Tony, he was now looking at him skeptically.

Peter shrugged. “I got distracted.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter could see a hint of a smile on his face. He thought he was going to say something but instead he walked around the table to where Peter normally sat, grabbed a paper towel, then reached under the table and grabbed a yellow cube from the trash can.

Not a cube. The sponge from last night, that Peter had used to try and scrub the suit clean. Tony held it up expectantly.

A sample.

“Oh.”

Movement on the tablet caught his attention. “Oh indeed,” Tony said.

____________

They had the chemical’s composition within the hour. They had the antidote by lunch. They were waiting for FRIDAY to make the dose needed, when Peter saw Tony laugh.

“What?” Peter hadn’t said anything, and he looked around to find out what he was laughing at.

Tony’s words appeared, “I think it’s time for lunch. Friday tell us when the dose is ready.”

He laughed again. The words, “sure thing boss” followed on the screen.

Peter frowned. “Why is that funny?”

Tony smiled. “Because your stomach growling is more reliable than my alarm clock.”

Peter rolled his eyes, glancing down at his abdomen. “Traitor,” he jokingly accused.

____________

FRIDAY had the dose ready sooner than expected, so Peter brought the rest of his PB&J down to the lab with him.

He’d forgotten the talk-to-text tablet upstairs, so he didn’t hear anything Tony said and hoped there weren’t any urgent special instructions when Tony handed him a glass of blueish liquid.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I just drink it?” Tony nodded and opened a can of sprite, leaning it forward for a toast. Peter tapped the cups, and they both drank. Peter made a scrunched face at the nasty taste after emptying the glass, closing his eyes as he coughed.

“So I’m guessing it wasn’t blue raspberry flavored?” Tony asked.

Peter shook his head and coughed, but froze when he realized he’d heard the question. He opened his eyes to see Tony smiling in front of him.

“We did it Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, his voice sounding wayy too loud in his head.

“We did it,” Tony replied, and Peter visibly flinched.

“Everything’s so loud,” he said quietly.

Tony’s smile faded a little. “Hm.” He spoke softly, “whatchya say we stay in for the rest of the day and watch movies with the sound turned way down low?”

Peter grinned, “I’d love that, but then you won’t be able to hear it!”

Tony put his fists on his hips in mock anger, “are you saying I’m old?”

Peter laughed. “Maybe in spider years.”

Tony rolled his eyes and smiled. “That’s what I thought. Now, what’re we watching? And please don’t make me watch that same movie for the third time in a row. There’s only a certain number of times I can listen to the jar jar lizard, and we’ve already exceeded that.”

“Okay. So how about that old movie Predator?”

“Okay, now you are calling me old.”

“Of course, now that I can hear your reaction.”

 

____________

30 minutes, 2 buckets of popcorn, and 1 pizza later, the duo finds themselves back upstairs on the couch, working on pulling up Predator with subtitles for Tony.

“So,” Tony began, “going back to that topic of reactions. How about I add this: don’t go out when you’re injured, as if that’s a new rule. Or impaired in some way. And if something like this happens again, come to me first. Please.”

Peter smirked. “Of course.”

“Nuh-uh, I need a stronger promise than that, bud. I don’t feel reassured at all.”

Peter sobered up, then. “Okay,” he said, “I will. Seriously. I was so scared.”

“Me too, Kid. Me too.”

“I thought I’d never hear you again. Or anything.”

“Aw, you’d miss hearing me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just the good stuff.”

“Like how much I care about you? And how great you are? And I’m so glad you’re my kid?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. He quickly turned it into a frown as if contemplating something. “Nah, I was thinking more about the times when you’re like, ‘do you want food?’ Or, ‘here’s some pizza,’ is a good one, too.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, who grinned. “But that other stuff you were saying is nice, too,” Peter added, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.

“I’m glad you think so,” Tony replied, “because I mean it.”

“Oh,” Peter responded.

“Oh indeed,” Tony replied with a smile Peter could hear in his voice.

The movie started, and Peter rested his head into Tony’s side.

“I care about you too, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly. He knew Tony could easily hear over the movie’s volume. “And I’m really glad you’re here for me and that you’re my, uh, my mentor. Well, and like a father figure person, too.”

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter.

“Glad to hear it, Peter. You make a really great kid, you know. And I’ll always be here for you.”

”Thanks, Tony. And you make a really great dad.”

______________

______________

[pseudofaux]

Pseu! I miss you, hope all is going well! Definitely a good night for a good drink!

How about some tipsy fun with Shigezane? 🥺🥺 maybe a 4 or 5? wreck me! Wait does he drink? Gosh I need to replay him.

Cheers!!❤❤❤

HEY, honey! Hello, I hope you are doing okay! What a bonkers year. 😫 I hope you are looking forward to your birthday! 💕💕💕

Shige DEFINITELY drinks, he gets straight up... “overtoasted” in a story or two. (my hero) SO LET’S WRECK YOU A LITTLE (with love)!

The watermelon frou frou drink you included looks sooooo yummy, I’m making this modern AU and putting it in. And thinking VERY HARD about the watermelon in my fridge.

CWs for: unprotected sex, Shigezane being criminally cute and having a perfect, totally bomb [REDACTED, TEXT IS PLACED BEFORE THE CUT]

totally bomb DICK, it’s his DICK, we all know it’s big

His name is Shigezane and he tastes like a sugar rim, the flirtiest sweetness she’s ever known. He smells sweet, too-- she thinks it’s Armani but can’t tell which one. It might be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking (she has the best buzz going, fun and still in control), but from his jokes and his touching her as they dance, it feels like he’d be an enthusiastic, gentle, appreciative lover.

She feels like she wants to find out if that’s true. Two more songs, she tells herself. If I still like him after two more songs, I’ll take him to my room. And aside from the thrill of that prospect, she’s hoping she still likes him after two more songs, because she likes him a lot right now. He’s made her laugh so much and his touches have all been warm and good, but not too much.

Just right. He’s Goldilocks.

(Okay, that’s got to be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking-- his hair is actually a pretty, soft brown that’s more silver than gold somehow. But he’s still just right. She wants to get her fingers in that hair. If he kisses so well he can distract her from the sugar rim of their watermelon shots when they’re pretty much in public, she has high hopes for what else he can do with his mouth when they’re alone.)

This reception has been fun. Ridiculous but happy, the height of happy beach summer to match the afternoon’s wedding. Bright flowers everywhere, a little umbrella in every drink. She’s tasted pineapple, watermelon, and coconut. It’s long past sunset now, but the dancefloor on the restaurant’s deck is close enough that they can hear the night waves, even the ones they can’t see.

There are even torches on the beach, and dark wood chairs in the sand. The bride and groom took pictures cuddling on one earlier, and she’d looked on with the rest of the bridal party and beamed for them. Was there anything as nice as a happy wedding? No demanding parents. Just happiness and love. 

Well. Maybe spending a happy wedding reception with a nice guy who was making those gray slacks work so well.

“You up for another dance?” he asks, and holds out his hand to her like something from a movie. She already knows how nice it feels to put her hand in his, and she needs to see what he does for the next two songs. So she puts her hand in his and says “Are you?” and totally smiles at him just because he smiles at her so big and bright.

He doesn’t do annnnnything to put her off for three songs. But before she can pull him aside to ask about going somewhere, he says “Hey-- you wanna walk on the beach?” and his glance is so sweet she’s not even mad at him for being so sweet and smooth before she could. His look isn’t shy or cocky. She looks at him for a moment just to soak in how damn cute he is, that soft brown hair all wind-mussed. And then she takes his hand again. 

They walk beyond the light of the torches, far enough down the beach that they’re in front of another restaurant’s slice of sand. The buildings on the land side are closed and dark. It’s not pitch black, but it is nighttime, and breezy. She’s glad the air is still summer warm.

“Oh no,” Shigezane says suddenly. There’s so much dread in his voice she’s worried there’s something dangerous on the beach with them.

She stops walking. “Uh... What’s wrong?” 

“Babe,” he says, gently tugging her hand. “There’s not a single person in any of these seats. Theses chairs are lonely.”

A sound stalls in her throat as she decides how lame that was, but he’s laughing and pulling her with him onto one of the beach chairs, and she goes. These are painted white, and they look soft and blue in the dark. Their bodies sit not very far apart at all on the lounger.

“I came out onto a dark, secluded beach, on a summer night... with a dork,” she deadpans, just like he did. He clutches at his heart and makes a show of her words wounding him.

“But,” she says, leaning the small space it takes to nudge him with her shoulder, “He’s a decent kisser.”

“Oh,” Shigezane says, now making a show of thinking over how that must change things.

“And he has a big heart for lonely furniture,” she whispers as she turns her body.

“Gigantic,” he whispers back. “Monumental.”

“Anything else gigantic you wanna tell me about?” she asks his mouth.

His exhale is sudden and gratifying to her. “Maybe, you know. Something reasonable,” he stutters. “Something reasonably sized--”

She kisses him again.

It’s not long before she’s straddling his lap, flowy dress bunched in his hands at her hips. She can tell from the promising stiffness she’s been grinding against that he was being modest, and she likes that. She likes him.

“I like you,” he says, and his head is tossed back but she’s watching everything she can see of his face, so she catches it. She smiles and puts a little kiss on his chin, just because he’s so damn cute.

“I like you, too,” she tells him. “But if I am going to cling to your shoulders--”

“Please cling to my shoulders. Oh my god. That’s really hot.” 

“Mmhmm. And if I’m going to cling to your shoulders,” she repeats, curving her palms over the tops of his shoulders and loving the muscle she can feel leading toward his back, “You’ll have to undo your pants yourself.”

“Ohhhh my god, okay, yes, absolutely,” he agrees, pushing himself up by the thighs, her grip on his shoulders and his hands holding her hips keeping her from falling. “Cling, babe. Please. I’m steady.”

She lets her hands really grip him and anchors herself with his body. He keeps one hand tight on her hip while the other works at the fly of those damn slacks. “Your ass looks good in those,” she tells him. “When we were spinning each other, I noticed.”

“Don’t make me blush,” he says, but even in the dark she can tell he already is, and smiling, too. He does whatever pulling needs to be done and sighs when his length is free. She can feel the warmth of it, like the sun hid a part of itself away for her to find in the dark.

It’s hard to decide if she wants to keep clinging (it is pretty hot, and she’s enjoying how solidly he’s kept her up by the strength of his shoulders and thighs), or touch him.

“Can I?” she asks.

“Doll, you can do anything you want,” he moans, head going back again. “Keep grinding, don’t grind, please just stay with me.” His hand goes back to her hip and he settles back down, waist of his pants high on his thighs. One day soon she wants to put her hands on his ass when he’s fucking into her, but here on the beach chair it would probably hurt. So she settles for grinding and kissing his Armani-scented jawline, following the cologne to the collar of the linen shirt he’s wearing. One hand stays close to his chest as she slides it down. Down. And then he’s wrapped by her hand and she cannot believe how smooth and thick this man’s dick is. What the hell. 

“I’m game to do more than grind if you are.”

“Fuck, Doll, anything you want, I meant it,” he says, weaving after her mouth as she playfully evades kisses. “But yes, hell yes. Very game. Atari. Dreamcast. Parcheesi.”

“Shut up, Shigezane.” She keeps a light grip as she begins to jerk him.

“I am never going to talk again,” he promises, and she laughs and kisses him and jerks him faster, and doesn’t call him on it when he starts chanting her name and curses and endearments. It’s better to let him, and focus on how damn good he feels in her hand. How good is he going to feel inside her? How would he feel in her mouth?

She has a nice little fantasy of going down on him in the kitchen of her apartment. Just lean him against the fridge-- mind the ice button, Shigezane-- and go to her knees. She thinks she could mouth the head of his cock for days, the skin of the rest of him feels so good.  “Gonna, soon,” he pants.

She leans forward and pulls in a deep breath of his cologne. She’s gotta find out what kind this is. “Well then you need to tell me,” she whispers, “where you want to be when you do.”

His answer is a series of swears but none of them are a location.

“How do you feel about cumming inside me?”

He looks at her like he cannot believe his luck. She likes that.

“Are you-- Yes, but... you’re okay...?”

“Are you clean?” she asks. “I do have a condom in one of my pockets.”

“Thought I could feel that,” he says, squeezing the dress fabric. “My god, you’re a dream.” He clears his throat. “I’m clean,” he says, more seriously. “But I’ll wear it.”

“Do you want to,” she presses.

“Uh, I am-- more than willing,” he sputters. “I think that’s clear?”

She laughs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“Shigezane. How do you feel about cumming inside me?” she asks again. She presses him against the very wet gusset of her panties and holds him there so she can make herself even wetter. He’s so hot, and so cute, and his dick feels so good.

Goldilocks.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he says carefully.

“Then I want you in me. I’m lonelier than these chairs,” she tells him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, grinning. She shakes her head and grins right back.

She stands in the sand and holds up the gauzy material of her skirt. “Take ‘em off,” she says.

He says something dumb and cute about it being his pleasure but she can’t scold him for it because as soon as he slips her panties down he starts kissing her pussy and if she thinks about anything but staying upright she will fall into the sand. He lets the stretchy lace fall and puts his hands around her hips, no fabric between them this time, and pushes his tongue into the seam of her body. He finds her clit without any prompting and yes, he’s a good kisser.

“Later,” she gasps, desperate to put her hands in his hair but sure if she lets go of her dress he’ll try to hide in it and get her off. She’s going to get off anyway, she wants to do it with his dorky but perfect cock inside her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, fuck me.”

He groans and asks “How do you want it?” His hands trace up her sides as he stands up. She can feel him touching the fabric at her waist. She’s getting a little dumb and desperate at this point, the party and drinking and all their flirting and the smoothness of him in her hand swirling around in her bloodstream.

She looks around to make sure they’re really alone. Then she pulls her dress the rest of the way over her head and tosses it toward one of the other chairs. Her bra joins it. Shigezane is looking at her like he wants to worship her with his mouth and she knows it’s not a bad idea.

Thinking he’s probably come back from the precipice by then, she takes one of his hands and brings him with her as she stretches out on the only lounger with a cushion. It’s thin, but it’s better than nothing! She’s hoping he’s gonna knock her around a little.

She pulls him like he pulled her for a dance. When he gets on top of her he is  careful with his limbs. He murmurs how gorgeous she is, how he cannot believe he got to even talk to her.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” she tells him, reaching for him again and rubbing him slowly against her clit. He glides from how wet she is. If he does not put his cock in her soon she’s going to run into the ocean. “Now do more than talk.”

From the first amazing press of his body to hers, he really is just right. And when his mouth finds hers, he shows her again that he’s a very good kisser. Sweet as a sugar rimmed drink.

[girlhomosonly]

Nobody’s Fault But Mine [ Original!Percival Graves one-shot ]

I had originally written this back four years ago when the FBAWTFT fandom was in full swing. This one, however, is a rewritten version that was published on a few other sites four months ago. I decided to post it here.

So, with that said. This is the rewritten version of “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” the last moments of Percival Graves.

The room was dark, lacking any source of natural light. Only a dim light was hanging from the ceiling. The prisoner was chained to the wall and was locked in a magic-built cage. The cage itself was not made with typical metal rods but invisible rods that taunted the man. If he somehow escaped his chains, he would not have been able to escape regardless. The magic was specifically constructed to keep him in. One touch could be fatal to his already fragile state.

 It felt like forever ago since he last felt the warmth of the sun. The room itself was damp and cold, his clothes of what was left did not help retain any heat. He wishes he did not take the simple pleasures in life for granted. Percival dearly missed the feeling of the sun enveloping him that almost felt like a loving embrace.

 Percival does not know how long he was imprisoned by the Dark Lord but it truly felt like an eternity.

 The night he was bested by that bastard keeps replaying in his mind. He wishes he can go back to that night. Word got around saying that Gellert Grindelwald was on the prowl and what did the Director of Magical Security, head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement do? He simply walked back home after a long shift at the office with his Elite Aurors. He did not think much of anything out of the ordinary - his home had protective wards after all. Yet, the cunning bastard must have been watching him for months, dare he say years? He was caught off guard and woke up to see a pair of mismatched eyes staring him down.

 Percival thinks of the different ways he should have defended himself. He can say with confidence though, he put up a good fight against the bastard. Until he was shot with an intense cursed spell that should have cost Percival his arm.

 Alas, no matter how he should have gone about the intrusion, he is still here. In this cold, damp room. Where he slumps against the wall, farthest from where Grindelwald would be outside the cage.

 With a wheezy sigh, Percival slumped even more and he decided to just lay down. He winced as his body's wounds and infections screamed in protest at the movement. His eyelids grew heavier, and since there was nothing else to do besides sleep, wait for the Dark Lord to arrive to feed and water him.

 He had been losing hope of getting rescued anyways...

 What?

 Lost hope?

 Percival, if he had the energy, would have cursed himself. His father up above would surely get his wand in a knot if he found out his son was thinking like this. That thought alone made the corner of his lip twitch up in an attempt of a smile.

 Graves worked with wizards and witches that trained and studied vigorously to become Aurors. He personally trained most of the ones on his Elite team back in the day. He was known to be one of the greatest Aurors, incredibly skilled with an honourable sense of justice. His team respected him, as well as his long-time dear friend and boss Madame President.

 Considering they were up against a madman, he understood that his people would need time to figure out the Grindelwald imposter.

 Surely, Miss Porpentina Goldstein unravelled this dilemma. She was headstrong and a valiant Auror. There was no doubt she would have suspected something out of the ordinary by now.

 The young woman reminded him so much of himself. The main focal point of taking Goldstein under his wing. At the beginning of her training days, she already had a strong desire to stand up for what is right, sought justice with her people, her community just like he had. Percival knew she would one day be an excellent addition to his team, not to say he already saw a huge amount of potential in her. Which is why he pushed her harder than anyone else. He is certain Goldstein will surpass him and succeed in this career far more than he could.

 Restoring his dwindling faith, his eyes finally shut and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

 Days passed him by.

 And he wondered why Grindelwald did not show.

 Eventually, he stopped feeling the hunger pangs. However, every movement jostled Percival's already disgruntled body, driving needles and pins throughout his body, his back, his skull... everywhere. It even felt like his bones were aching.

 Wallowing in his seemingly never-ending pain, he did not hear shuffling in the darker part of the room. It was only when a sound coming from the cage did the man put his guards up. The sudden sound of the invisible cage zapping something. There were no sounds of distress or pain following.

 "W-Why did you lie to me?" The voice was soft yet held betrayal and hurt within its tone.

 Turning his head to the source, he instantly froze.

 Credence.

 Struggling to get up, he saw the same pale young boy but this time there was black smoke surrounding him, flecks that strayed too far from the boy descended to the floor. His eyes were white, dark circles hung below his more sculpted face.

 The boy's voice cracked. "You hurt me. They are gone because of me." 

 "I know, my boy. I know. I apologize, I-I promised to teach you." Percival's words were hushed, having needed more energy to speak. His face scrunched up, tears stinging at his eyes.

 Was it his time already? He has never had hallucinations before.

 "You are a coward. Who is weak and useless." Credence hissed venomously.

 "I failed you-"

 "You promised me, Mr. Graves!" roared Credence.

 Percival shut his eyes tightly, emotional and physical pain washing over him, overwhelming him. He uttered to himself, apologizing for being such an incompetent wizard, for letting this young boy down...

 He did not know when the hallucination of Credence subsided but the words still echoed through his mind.

 Coward.

 Weak.

 Useless.

 Was he truly what Credence said? Possibly. He would not be here if he wasn't. However, the words cut harder than he thought. He wondered what his Aurors would think of him when he was found.

 Would he ever be trusted again to be their Director?

 Madam President Seraphina, one of his oldest and dearest friends. She must be so disappointed. His underling, Tina Goldstein must be mortified with the fact the "greatest" wizard in her department was so easily defeated. Credence must have been so hurt when Percival stopped showing up on Tina's behalf.

 His pain was steadily going away.

 It brought him some comfort, he will only be dealing with his emotional turmoil.

 Or...

 Nothing at all...

 He realized he found it difficult to keep himself conscious.

 "I suppose... no... Nobody's fault. Bu- but mmm...ine."

 And just as Percival Graves exhaled his last breath, a loud rumbling noise and lights came flooding into the room. Voices of people talking in ushered tones as magic spelled around him...

 Rescuers.

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 3

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2288

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

“I know it seems ridiculous,” you stated as you led the constable to your home office, pointing at your desk where both the pen and message waited for him to inspect. “However, I didn’t hear a thing and yet this is all here.”

Sungjin quietly investigated the space, looking to the window and then went over to jiggle the catch. He stepped all around the room, searching for clues, his hand rising to his mouth to cover it as he processed his thoughts.

And then he turned to you. “I don’t really know what to say. This makes no sense.”

“I feel like I’m going insane!” you admitted emotionally, dropping to a crouch and holding onto your legs. “How could someone get in and out without my knowledge whilst everything is still locked?!”

When you glanced up at Sungjin, who came to your side, you noticed the look of scepticism within his eyes. There was nothing factual aside from the second fingerprints, which in your mind, was enough to convince you that someone else had been here. For a moment, the trained professional looked at you and assessed something before smiling gently. You realised then Sungjin was questioning your well-being.

Standing up suddenly, you took a step back from his proximity and looked out the window. “I might have proclaimed just now about feeling as if I’m going insane, but I can assure you, Constable Park, that I’m not already insane.”

“I know,” he answered, trying to catch your attention. When he gained it, he nodded genuinely. “I’m sorry, my brief thought was too brash.”

“I can understand why,” you breathed out with a sigh, shaking your head. “It would be easy enough to plant such evidence, right? I’ve watched enough spy movies and read enough novels to know that it’s relatively simple enough to obtain someone’s fingerprint.”

“Yes, but I believe you haven’t done this on purpose either, Y/N.”

There was comfort in the way he spoke your name and you nodded softly, tears spilling down your cheeks. Sungjin stepped into your space again, patting your shoulder gently. “What do I do?”

“We need to catch the person in the act,” Sungjin suggested and you stared at him curiously. “Have you tried messaging the person back?”

“No… I mean, how does that work? It’s not a social app they’re writing on but Microsoft Word. Even with a cloud sharing system, it would show me that another user is signed in.”

Sungjin shrugged. “Still. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“Do I try it now?” you asked and Sungjin shook his head.

“Nothing will happen with me here,” he guessed and you sighed, defeated. You kind of liked that nothing would happen with Sungjin here. But he had a job to do and you did want to solve this issue too.

If it was simply a fan, you would thank them for nursing you back to health that night and ask them to stop this. That seemed simple enough to request. Surely, if they cared that much about you, they would comply.

You didn’t want to consider that their fan status was anything more than just that. Once again, movies and books you had perused with obsessive stalkers cropped up and you shuddered.

Sungjin noticed and rubbed at your shoulders to relax you. “You’re going to be okay. You have my number and I’ll make sure to check in on your regularly too. Let me know if anything happens with the messages, okay?”

“I will.” Leading the constable back out to the front door, he turned and rubbed at his wrist.

“Did you need a lift to get your groceries?”

“Is that allowed in a police vehicle?” you wondered and Sungjin grinned.

“I could write it off as protection services.”

“I’m touched, really,” you responded, trying to rein in the smile you knew was splitting your lips all too obviously.

Sungjin nodded and chuckled back. “Knowing you would take the offer if my car wasn’t government-funded is all I need, Y/N.”

“You best get back to patrolling the streets for proper crime,” you suggested and he nodded. You then laughed. “And I have a date with the fruit and vegetable section to help improve my immunity after dealing with this cold.”

“Take it easy. First dates can be hard to deal with.”

You grinned. “I will. And if I’m in trouble from it, I’ll know who to ring.”

You could tell Sungjin wasn’t usually one for this type of banter, and despite his ears turning red, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Which was no doubt why he was reluctant to step off your front porch right now.

However, he finally did so with another wave and you stepped back inside, locking the door before going to write out your list. It felt weird to use the pen that reappeared so you put it away before reaching for another and jotted down the groceries you needed.

“Have you tried messaging the person back?”

Sungjin’s suggestion lingered in your mind as you prepared to stand and fetch your bag. Relenting, you looked at the screen and inhaled a deep breath before you began to type.

Thank you for returning the pen. And for helping me with my illness.

It felt odd to type anything more and you shook your head to loosen off the feeling, getting to your feet and taking the list out with you.

The words you had written then disappeared without your knowledge, reaching the person they were intended for.

You had almost forgotten all about the incident that led to the constable ending up in your house again today, but the interaction by your front door had replayed so much in your mind that you were too giddy to focus on anything else. As you put away your groceries, you contemplated what Sungjin was like to go grocery shopping with.

It was juvenile. You felt like you were back in high school crushing on a student you liked. You entertained the idea, all the same, slipping further into more domestic actions, swooning over your hypothetical relationship with the man.

You were destined to be a writer. You were far too much of a dreamer for any other profession.

By the time you had eaten a late lunch, you had already jotted down on your phone’s notes app more information to add to your police officer document once back at your desk. You did some house chores before stepping back in there, and before you could even sit down, there was a knock at your door.

It wasn’t Sungjin, however, but your mother, armed with an arsenal to help your illness improve.

You grinned even though you whined out loud. “Mum, I’m basically over it now.”

“You had me worried sick about you. Especially when you mentioned someone broke in!”

Taking what she held and helping the woman inside, you shook your head. “Well, there’s no evidence that’s solid enough to say someone broke in.”

“Should I stay with you tonight?”

“Why tonight when I was more frightened last night?” you asked with a teasing tone and the older woman swatted at you in distaste.

“I’m your mother! I’m allowed to be worried.”

“I’ll be fine! I’ll have the doors all locked, and my favourite police officer’s number saved into my phone. Besides, I’ll no doubt spend my night writing and-”

“Forget I’m even here. Yes, I know how you get when you step out of reality, Y/N.”

You grinned again at her understanding and then were gathered up in a hug. “At least let me cook you dinner. I’ll leave before it gets too late for your creative juices to start rolling out.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course I do. I have to be the best to be your Mum!”

After watching two feel-good movies from your childhood and your mother had fed you your favourite dish for dinner before wrapping the night up with fussing over you sufficiently, she headed back home and left you to your own devices.

So it surprised you to finally sit back down after hours away from your laptop to find the screen still active.

Peering closely at it, you blinked slowly at your message or lack of it. Where had it gone? You knew you written the two sentences and pressed enter.

Just as you were about to close the document, your eyes rounded with shock as words began to appear on the screen before you.

“I’m going insane after all,” you said jarringly, reading the sentence as it was typed.

I hope you will stop fearing me and calling that police officer. I’m really not that scary. You know me.

Instead of reaching for your phone, you felt compelled to reply.

Do I?

Again words started to appear before you. Of course. You know me better than I probably do.

How?

You created me.

“Maybe I’ve had too much coffee,” you tried to rationalise but it didn’t make any sense. Looking around yourself to see if someone was remotely plugged in somehow to your laptop, you even searched the connection settings before coming up blank.

So you challenged the writer of the messages.

If I know you and created you – which sounds absolutely absurd by the way – why won’t you show yourself?

You laughed when there was no immediate response and hovered the mouse pointer over the exit button to Microsoft Word, intending to then power off the device. The screen flickered then and you looked back at to see new words forming.

Don’t turn off the laptop.

“What would that have anything to do with this?” you murmured, feeling exasperated from chatting with some strange person within a word document in the first place.

More words appeared. Because the world you created was made on this.

“Okay, it’s getting too late for me now. I’m going to save this document and-”

The screen went blank and you sat back in your chair then, watching it to see what would happen next. Nothing did and you hit the power button on and off, laughing at the predicament. “My battery must have died. Great.”

Searching on the desk for the power cord, you plugged it in and the machine brightened up instantly, blinding you a little with the sudden change.

And then it opened Captivated again.

You watched as the story scrolled down at an unbelievably fast rate, reaching the bottom of the manuscript where you had changed the words back to The End for the third time. They disappeared and were replaced with To Be Continued once more, infuriating you.

“Leave my work alone! This is an intrusion on my intellectual property! You have no right interfering with--”

You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not. You weren’t even sure how it happened. One moment, whilst you were ranting to whoever may be listening in about your rights, you were all alone.

The next, a man was leaning against your desktop beside you.

“What the… how did you get in here?!” you cried, not looking up at him properly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone.

“I really don’t think you need to call for him. But if it makes you feel safer, by all means, ring your hero.”

His voice, although you had never heard it before, felt familiar, as if you had imagined that’s how someone would sound. You glanced at his hand resting on the table beside you, wondering why it looked as if you had written about this hand so often it almost felt intimate. Following your gaze up his arm, you ran your focus along his shoulder and up to his face, hearing your phone clatter to the floor beside you.

As you looked intensely into his warm brown eyes that watched you back, and then took in the sharp slant of his nose that was definitely a characteristic point, before finally moving to his lips, you knew exactly who you were staring back at.

Brian Kang.

He grinned, scrunching up his nose a little in the process and it made you gasp. This seemed to please the man. “Well, I guess it works on more than just Charli Evers, huh?”

“You’re… wait… how can you… I mean, this is exactly how I pictured you but… it’s impossible.”

Brian nodded, glancing back at your laptop and tapped on the screen. “I guess it would seem like that to you since my world is created from your imagination.”

“Sungjin’s right, I’ve gone mad.”

“Darling, you’ve been mad for some time but I wouldn’t go thinking this is a hallucination.”

“You’re not real.”

“Well, I guess I’m not meant to be real. I’m not really sure how I figured this all out either. I’m still learning about the outside world so forgive me for scaring you with all this.”

“The outside world?” you repeated incredulously, grasping your head as you felt faint. “Why am I talking to my imagination?! This is an all-time low for me; even I have to admit it.”

“Y/N,” Brian stated, capturing your attention once again. His expression was resolute. You knew without him saying anything else that he believed in what he was about to say wholly. “Whilst you are my maker, I do exist. I’m real.”

“I bet I can’t even touch--” A whimper left you then as he reached out to take a hold of your wrist with the same hand you had inspected. And then he slipped it down so he was holding yours, marvelling at the connection.

And like any normal, logical person who just met their creation in the flesh, you completely blacked out from the experience.

_________________

Part 4

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