#i just wanted to draw some clothes and folds but guess what it turned into

[lmaowh-at]

Zzz...

[skeltnwrites]

A/N: I think this is the first time I've ever been so emotional about something I've written 😭 this hit a little too close to home for me

Summary: You help Eddie wash his hair when he can't. | 0.9k words

TW: depression, best friend!reader

“Nooo,” Eddie whines, voice muffled by blankets. “Stop– Seriously!” 

Your grip around his ankle only tightens from where you’ve fished it out of his cocoon. You tug, ripping his sock off in the process, until he’s halfway off the couch, clinging onto a cushion like his life depends on it. 

“You’re so annoying,” he slumps into a sitting position on the floor, eyes peaking out of the fold in his comforter. 

You crouch in front of your best friend. “Yes, but you love me.” 

He leans away when you peel the corner of the blanket away. He’s pale, which is typical, but it’s summer and he looks borderline vampirish with how visible his veins are. A palm brushes his bangs back to meet the knot secured to his crown. He bends away from your touch a second time. 

“Hair’s greasy,” he mumbles; a weak excuse, like you’d ever care about that. 

“I can wash it for you,” you offer seriously. 

His lips tilt into a sort of smile and his brows knit together, “What? Like in the sink?” 

“If you want?” 

He hums, “Prolly uncomfortable.” 

“Okay, in the shower then.”

A real smile this time. “If you want to see me naked just say that.” 

You punch his shoulder lightly. Normally you’d shove him hard without a second thought, and he’d probably push back equally, but it feels wrong to do so when you know he won’t put up a fight. “You can put swim trunks on.”

“I don’t feel like changing.”

“Okay, then in this.” You pinch the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. 

“That’s a little weird.”

“Since when do you care about weird?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, “I guess. If you want.” 

In the bathroom, you turn the shower knob, “Hot or cold?” 

“Warm.” He’s slumped on the toilet lid in his pajamas, having ditched the duvet in the hall. 

“Okay, here.” You whisk the curtain open fully. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘Am I really doing this?’ before stepping into the tub. His eyes widen when you climb in right after him.

“You’re crazy,” he grins and it makes your heart leap. You’ve missed the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and his lashes kiss the tips of his cheeks when he smiles. 

“Not as crazy as you.” You hook a finger under his scrunchie, gently working it until his curls spill over his shoulders. 

He sighs, eyes drawing shut when you tilt his head back. His clothes are already soaked through, clinging to his slender frame like a second skin. He blocks most of the stream but stray droplets catch your arms where they connect with his head.  

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, massaging shampoo through his hairline. “I could go for some takeout right about now.” 

He blinks at you. “I know what you’re doing.”

You crane his head to the side to scrub his nape, “I’m not doing anything. I’m hungry.”

You’re not looking, but you practically feel him roll his eyes. 

“So, pizza?” 

He knows you only suggest it because it’s his comfort food, but he’s too tired to argue about getting something you both want. Eddie nods into your hand. You thumb his cheek, studying him self-indulgently while his eyes are sealed again. 

You work conditioner through his dead ends, tenderly detangling, and sticking spirals of black hair on the shower wall as they are combed out. 

Silent tears mingle with the water dripping off his chin. The tremble in his breath gives him away and you acknowledge it with a wordless hug. He reciprocates, squeezing you under the warmth of the showerhead. His nose digs into your collarbone and you trace the knobs on his spine. 

This is not the first time you’ve seen him cry, or held him while he did, for that matter. You are well-versed in handling his depressive episodes. Knowing when to push and when not to pry. Knowing when to hold him and when to give him space. And most importantly knowing that most of the time he just needs someone there. Not to talk about it necessarily but to just be with him for a night so he can pretend not to feel like shit for a few hours. 

You wrap him in a towel and scour his room for fresh pajamas. There was a time when he’d have been embarrassed to let you see his room in such a state, but you’ve drilled it into his head that you love all of him, even the messier parts. 

You change out of damp clothes in his room while he does in the bathroom. A handful of his things are put away while you’re in there, but not enough for him to scold you for doing so. 

He meets you back in the living room where he sinks back into his spot in front of the TV. You dial his favorite pizza place before joining him on the couch to brush and braid his hair. He thanks you, though you don’t need it. 

With his legs thrown across your lap and half a greasy pie split between your bellies, the hum of a movie soothes you both to sleep. Outside, the world spins on, but for now, here with him, everything feels still.

[crowborn666-nsfw]

Stress

Lucifer x Reader

Tags: rough sex, unprotected sex, AFAB Reader, blowjob, deepthroating, fingering,

~~~~~~

This day just seemed to stretch on forever. Lucifer had to wrangle his brothers together at breakfast, had to deal with another add on to Mammon’s debt, and not mention paperwork, paperwork, and even more paperwork.

Just as Lucifer sent the house chat a text ordering them to not bother him and to stay in line, in came you with tea.

“Hi Lucifer.” Your voice was gentle, a blessing on his ears after the day he’s had. “I brought you your favorite tea.”

“Thank you.” He sighed, “Set it on the coffee table for me.”

You did so, walking up to his side after to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Guess I should leave you to your work, huh?”

Lucifer’s mind instantly had another idea, and his hand clasped around your arm.

“Actually.” He tugged you between him and the desk, giving you those eyes. “You would be opposed to helping me?”

Heat rushed through you in an instant, and yet you could only nod as a response.

“Good. On your knees.”

You dropped to your knees instantly, watching with pink cheeks as Lucifer undid his belt and pulled his cock free.

You didn’t need to be told, already reaching out before Lucifer could even speak. An appreciative groan left Lucifer as your lips wrapped around him, setting a steady pace in no time.

“You’re too good for me.” He praised, a hand trailing into your hair and pulling you a little further down his cock.

A glance up showed his head was thrown back, and it wasn’t long before his hips began to buck and his cock teased your throat. You slackened your jaw, allowing Lucifer to slide down your throat some.

“That’s it.” Lucifer breathed, letting out small moans as he grew closer to his climax. Your hands moved to stroke what wouldn’t fit in your mouth, and just as you began to feel lightheaded from the lack of air, the coil inside Lucifer snapped and you feel a hot liquid hit your tongue and throat.

Lucifer carefully pulled you off of him, lovingly fixing your disheveled hair as you caught your breath. He pulled you to your feet, and one glance to his face showed he wasn’t done.

“Turn around,” he ordered, “On the desk.”

You tiptoed to sneak a quick kiss from him, his chuckle hitting your ears as you turned and pressed your front to the desk.

His back pressed to yours then, his lips finding your neck as he began removing your clothes from your lower half. You moaned as his fingers slicked through your folds, circling your clit in steady motions. His cock was heavy and still hard against your thighs, causing you to press back against him.

“Impatient, hm?”

“We both know you want this even more than I do.” You retorted between moans, earning a sharp nip to the neck.

“I can’t have you in pain, now can I?” He spoke directly into your ear, fingers now slipping inside of you, “Now be a lamb and be patient.”

He was certainly shutting you up with how good he was making you feel, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair as he sucked bruises and hickies onto your neck.

Pitiful little moans left you as Lucifer stretched you out on his fingers, but despite his words you could tell that Lucifer was getting impatient as well.

“Please, Lucifer?” You begged, rutting your hips back against his. “Need you too.”

He hummed in your ear, and with a kiss to the shell of it withdrew his fingers and lined himself up with your entrance.

“I won’t hold back, dear.”

“That’s fine.” You panted, “I’m a good girl who can take it, aren’t I?”

He chuckled in your ear, sinking into you in one fluid motion and drawing a high pitched moan from you.

The pace he instantly set was brutal, you were definitely gaining bruises on your hips from how tight he held you. You felt his cool, smooth horns appear under your fingertips, and the shadows from his wings cloaked you in darkness.

You gripped onto a horn and held on for dear life, listening as various papers and pens clattered off the desk and the lewd sound of skin on skin filled the room.

Lucifer muffled his own sounds into your neck, his fingers coming to circle your clit and bring you to an orgasm. He didn’t stop to let you catch your breath either, pounding into you as he chased his own high and quickly brought you to a second.

“Lucifer!” You cried out.

“Almost there, dear. Just hold on to me.”

You did your best to hold out, but you were quickly shoved over the edge again, a broken moan leaving you. Heat filled your belly a few seconds later, followed by Lucifer’s own moans in your ear.

You sat in a daze, whining as Lucifer pulled out of you and the emptiness left behind. He kissed your face with a gentleness that contrasted to the roughness he just showed.

“Thank you, dear.” He hummed in your ear, letting you stand up properly. He steadied you, fixing your clothes before guiding you to the bathroom. “Let’s go wash up, then you can join me for tea.”

[sato-s-only-wife5107]

Reborn!Wukong: First Date.

Word Count: 2697.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Implied daddy issues, mention of dead parent.

Authors Notes: This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, but I'm happy nonetheless. Hope you enjoy! ^^

<---Previous | Start | Next--->

The next village you all got to was a mile away from your hometown. It turned out to be one of those hot spots for festivals and firework shows. It was the perfect place in his mind. So the second you all got lodged into an Inn, Wukong had disappeared somewhere without a word to any of you. You were curious about what that mischievous monkey was doing, but got concerned since he didn't return when the sun started to go down.

You wanted to spend the evening exploring the town with him, but with him nowhere to be found, you didn't think it would've been any fun had you gone alone or with any of the others. You sat boredly in your room at a very nice yet cheap Inn run by a cute old couple, who gave you cookies a while ago. 

You were doodling on a scroll, though you were supposed to be logging what you did for the last three days. You had started keeping logs to kill time, and it just ended up as something you enjoyed; even though Wukong teased you about being a nerd since you also logged any new plants or herbs you encountered.

You yawned softly and laid down on your arm as you started drawing Wukong. You liked doing that a lot and would absolutely bury yourself alive if he ever found out. Your eyes were getting heavy as you detailed his, they grew heavier and heavier till they couldn't open anymore, and the grip on your pencil loosened. 

“Pst,” the sound from the window made you jump a bit, but you chose to ignore it as your subconscious slowly took you over. This got an annoyed growl and the person jumped into the room with a soft thud. “Hey,” you heard Wukong's voice as he walked over and poked your cheek. “I know you're awake.”

“No I'm not,” you mumbled, which made him chuckle to himself. He guessed that you probably were asleep, or at least dozing off. 

“You wanna go on that date or not?” That woke you up, and you looked up at him as he folded his arms. 

“Right now?” you let out a defeated breath.

“Yes, right now. Get up and c'mon,” he walked to the window and leaned against it. 

“Ugh…” You sighed and stretched, cracking some bones before you slouched in your chair with a content sigh. 

“Don't make me throw water on you,” he threatened as he saw your eyes close. 

“I'm up,” you sighed and sat up straight. 

“Meet me on the roof when you freshen up,” he rolled his eyes.

“The roof?” you look at him like he was crazy.

“Yes, the roof,” he hopped onto the window sill with a grin, “you know what the roof is, don't you?”

“Moron,” you rolled your eyes and got off the bed and folded your arms. “Why the roof?”

“I'm waiting,” he dodged the question and left you on your lonesome. 

Did he leave earlier to prepare our date? The thought made your heart beat like a drum before you paled. Wait, did he see the drawing?! You thought to yourself in embarrassment at the mere possibility.

You shook off your bashful response and instead focused on freshening up; fixing your hair and your clothes. You walked to the window and looked at the drop. You gulped, trying not to think of what would happen if you fell. You looked up and jumped back with a startled yell. 

“Stop scaring me like that!” You whisper yelled at him. Wukong snickered to himself and held out his hand to you. You looked at his hand, but took it with a wary smile before you yelped when he pulled you out the room and you both landed on his cloud. “Show off.”

“You like it though,” He grinned at you. 

“Promise not to drop me?” you looked up at him nervously. 

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” he looked down at you as he held you close to his chest. If your own heartbeat was any indication to him, his words affected you greatly.

“Whoa…” You mumbled when you saw the things he'd prepared. 

On the roof of the Inn laid a blanket with a basket of treats, a tray of steaming buns, a bottle of what was no doubt alcohol, and two chalices you recognised at the ones you both use. 

Simple yet beautiful, the food smells reaaaally good too. He put a lot of effort into this. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you like it?” he asked as he carefully set you down before dropping beside you. 

“You did all this? For me?” you looked up at him. 

You have no idea what I'd do for you. He thought to himself and looked away.

“Let's eat,” he cleared his throat and sat down. You were careful as you sat down beside him and looked at the view. 

“This place really comes to life at night,” you marvelled since the town didn't seem like much when you all got there.

“The town of stars,” he offered you a bun, which you gladly took and took a bite. 

“It's so good!” you beamed, he smiled a bit as he watched you. 

“I'm glad,” he reached over and wiped a bit of the filling from the corner of your mouth before licking it off his thumb. “Hm, it is good.”

Cheeky monkey. You blushed at the action. Dirty move, that's cheating.

He smelled… clean. Not a trace of dirt or sweat, he even looked more neat now that you got a good look at him; you guessed he probably got all dolled up for you. You looked at the food to hide your embarrassment. Wukong watched you, the light of the town made you look more enchanting than ever… In his mind at least. He looked at the view and took a bite out of a stuffed bun he got. 

It is good… he thought as he looked down at the nun in his hand. Guess the merchant wasn't all talk after all, these really are worth it. 

He'd never admit to selling the fancy clothes he wore to that party to get the money to pay for the treats. He knew you'd be crossed and most definitely hit him while being a bit bashful. He got discounts too since, apparently, a lot of them saw how you looked at each other earlier and guessed he was trying to woo you… Which was true. 

“What’s your favourite childhood memory?” your voice caught his attention. 

“Don't have one,” he answered simply. 

“Really?” you looked up at him curiously. 

“I was born from a stone. No parents, no family,” 

“Must have been hard,” you placed a hand on his arm. 

“I got over it eventually,” he shrugged it off, trying to focus on the intimate atmosphere. 

“I don't believe you did,” he looked at you. Your gaze was gentle, and you had a small smile as you held his hand. “It's okay to feel lost and alone. Especially when you can cheer yourself up when you remind yourself that you're not alone anymore.”

Your words made him look away from you, but let you hold his hand. He had to admit that your warmth felt really good. He finished the bun and started to eat another as his tail swayed a bit. 

“What about you?”

“Me?” you tilted your head a bit. 

“Yeah, can't I ask questions too?” He gave a cheeky smile as he raised a brow. 

“Of course you can,” you squeezed his hand. “Well…” you trailed off, thinking back to your childhood. “I don't think I have any either… maybe stargazing with my dad before he died?” you smiled a bit. “He used to tell me all these stories and that if I ever bring a guy home, he’ll have to put him in his place,” you mused. 

“You miss him, huh?” Wukong looked at you with a soft look. 

“More than anything,” you looked up at him. “He’d like you a lot. He used to geek out all the time about your powers and how awesome flying on a cloud would be.”

“Hmph,” was his only response. 

He's embarrassed. You mused. He always gets embarrassed when people compliment him.

“What’s your favourite food?” you broke the silence. 

“Bananas,” he gave a smart ass grin, which got him elbowed. 

“C'mon, be serious,” you laughed a bit. 

“Hmmm,” he glanced away from you in thought. “I'd probably say… The peaches back home. They're the biggest and juiciest you'll ever find,” he looked at you.

“I look forward to trying them,” you smiled at him. “I like (f/f),”

“I know,” he chuckled. “You wouldn't shut up about it.”

“I'm a passionate person, leave me alone,” you huffed. 

“Uh-huh,” he huffed. 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” you blurted out.

I can't believe I just asked him that… You mentally slapped yourself.

I do now. He thought to himself.

“What?” he raised a brow. 

“It was just a question,” you looked away in a mental panic as your face burned from a blush. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

“I guess,” he mumbled and your gaze shot up to meet his gaze. You honestly didn't think he was going to answer, he just kept on surprising you the longer you spent time with him. “Where'd you get all these questions anyway?”

“Just a random list I came up with a while ago. I struggled to make friends back home, so I made a list of some stuff to ask to help me.”

“Did it work?” He raised a brow.

“Not really,” you rubbed the back of her head. “I'm still not much of a people person.”

“Were you ever?”

“Not really. Even as a kid I was pretty timid and would only talk to my dad or when he’s around.”

“How'd you meet that rat from the party?” The reminder of that guy left a bad taste in Wukong's mouth, but let's just say you weren't the only one blurting out questions without really thinking them through.

“I almost forgot about him,” you laughed nervously. “We went to school together, the other three too. Honestly, thinking back, dad didn't like him at all,” she huffed softly. “But when he asked me out then asked to be his girlfriend, I was really happy and agreed without hesitation,” you found yourself leaning against Wukong's shoulder. 

“Hm…” He looked at the crowd, offering you the last of the steamed buns.

“This one time, I wanted to visit him after his birthday since he seemed down…” you took a bite out of the bun and sighed, “that's when I saw him with Daiyu, then he told me that our entire relationship was just a dare. They had a good laugh at my expense for a long time.”

“I should've killed that bastard when I had the chance.” he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. 

“Thank you,” he looked down at her. “For being there with me… honestly, I had a panic attack when I first saw him there, but your voice helped me calm down.”

“Happy to help,” he mumbled.

I knew she was breathing really heavily, but I didn't know why.

“What are you most afraid of?” she started back her questions.

Losing you. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged. 

“C'mon, there must be something even the Great Sage is afraid of,”

“No,” he looked at the view again and leaned back on his hands. You positioned yourself and laid your head on his lap.

“This okay?” you asked sheepishly. 

“It's fine,” he looked away, unable to look at you. “Any more questions?”

“Hmmm…” you hummed softly in thought. “What do you enjoy most about travelling?”

“Freedom,” he looked at the sky. “Soaring through the sky… it feels…”

“Amazing,” you smiled up at him and he looked down at you. 

“Yeah,” 

“What makes you happy?”

You do.

“Same thing,” he stated. 

“That makes sense,” you mused. “Being able to fly on the cloud… you looked like you had fun every time.”

“I'll take you flying for our next date,” he smirked at you.

“Next date, huh?” you teased. 

“What, you don't wanna do it again?”

“I really do,” you smiled at him. 

“Then I'll take you out on my cloud next time,” he waved it off. 

“I can't wait,” you smiled up at him and sat up, much to his dismay but he kept a straight face. “What’s something that not many people know about you?”

“Again with the questions,” he let out an annoyed breath.

“One last one?”

“No more questions,” he pulled your cheek, which made you whine.

“C'mon, just this last one,” you pouted up at him as you rubbed your sore cheek when he let go. Who was he kidding? He can't say no when you look this cute. 

“Hm,” he rested his cheek on top of your head. “I love you.”

That sentence made you tense, the blush causing your face to heat up like a hell fire. You'd never expected him to say it so casually, like he was used to saying it. It made your heart race so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest. 

Wukong… Well, he was in an even worse state. He'd managed to keep those comments to himself, but that one slipped out without really meaning to. He was embarrassed to say the least, but he simply remained quiet and listened to your heartbeat. He stared at the sky as you stared ahead.

“I love you too…” Your voice was soft, but in the night air, even if the town was alive, it was loud and clear. 

“It's getting late,” he cleared his throat before he glanced down at you.

“So?” you looked up at him, he smirked a bit seeing the blush on your ‘cocky' face.

“Are you gonna complain tomorrow?” he raised a brow. 

“Your stubborn embarrassed face is kinda cute,” you giggled softly, which only served to embarrass him more as he looked away. 

The sudden sound of fireworks made you jump and momentarily grip his clothes. He looked at you from the corner of his eye before he looked at the fireworks show. 

“Oh yeah, I remember. The granny said something about a firework show tonight,” you suddenly remembered the old woman's words when she gave you the cookies. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

“What?” he watched as you dug into your pocket and took out a small bag. You took out a cookie and offered it to him.“She gave me these cookies! They're really good. Wanna try one?”

“You're too trusting,” he sighed and sniffed it before he took a small bite, which made you blush as you basically just fed him.

“You should be more welcoming, it could help in future,”

“You say that after everything we've endured?” He raised a brow. 

“That's true, but is it so bad to be optimistic?”

“You can be that all you want,” he looked at the cookie and took another bite. 

“It's good, right?” you grinned at him. 

“It's alright,” he begrudgingly grumbled. 

“Lighten up,” you smiled at him, “for someone over 500 years old, you're such a downer,” you reached up and pushed up the corner of his mouth. “You should smile more, you look really handsome when you do.”

“You think so?” he looked at you. You froze for a second, realizing what you said made you look away and rest your hand on your lap. 

“W-Well, yes, of course,” you stuttered. “You're attractive for a demon.”

“Good to know,” he mumbled.

“Wukong?”

“Hm?”

“I'm serious,” you looked up at him.

“About what?” He raised a brow. 

“About loving you,” your voice got soft.

“Me too,” he looked at you and lifted your chin before he placed a soft kiss on your lips. 

It took you by surprise, but you melted into it nonetheless. The fireworks went off once more and made it feel like a New Year's kiss. All in all, it was a pretty amazing first date. 

[medlarmeadows]

you’ve captured me (and my heart)

hero!Charlie Slimecicle x villain!reader

Synopsis: You’d think capturing and interrogating a hero would be easier what with the number of years you’ve been a villain. Turns out it’s a whole lot more complicated when the hero you captured fancies you a little.

Warning(s): slightly suggestive, swearing, a bit of sexual tension, violence (no blood, just some tripping and a headbutt).

Word count: 1.4k words

A/N: No part of me wants to admit that this emerged from the Duolingo stream. I wrote this in an hour. I am ashamed and amazed at the same time.

masterlist || requests are open!

Slime had been yapping non-stop since you’d kidnapped him midway during his nightly patrol. Even after placing a bag over his head; even after shoving him into your getaway car; even after dragging him into an abandoned warehouse; even after forcing him onto a chair and tying his arms behind his back – he refused to stop talking.

You should’ve just knocked the idiot out while you had the chance to.

Now, you had no more chance to render him unconscious because you were meant to interrogate the yapper.

“ – dude, the ropes are kinda chafing my wrists, could you loosen them a little?”

Rubbing the space between your eyebrows, you sigh wearily before yanking the bag off his head.

He looked like the typical hero in your city: a green mask obscured the top half of his face, and he was clad in a flexible, but sturdy suit of different green hues. He really committed to the slime theme.

You guess you were no different. You could see his eyes scanning your dark purple suit, which was accompanied by a cloth that obscured the lower half of your face from your nose down. What can you say? You loved your moniker Foxglove.

A light sparks in Slime’s eyes when he registers who you are.

“Ah shit, Foxglove,” he starts somewhat nervously, one foot tapping a rhythm on the floor. “We meet again, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“This isn’t a meeting, Slime. It’s an interrogation.”

“And a kidnapping, I noticed,” he quips, arms twitching in what you assumed was discomfort. “I know kidnapping kind of runs in villainy, but I didn’t think that was your brand.”

“I don’t really give a shit about branding,” you shoot back, cocking your head to the side. “That’s your kind of thing.”

“Yeah, hah,” he replies, a little breathy. “Heroes and branding, that’s how we appeal and gain people’s trust, I guess. Anyways, nice place you’ve got here. A little bare and dusty. You come here often?”

You squint at him. He was rambling.

The two of you often exchanged banter and insults during your fights, and there was usually an air of confidence, almost playfulness around Slime. You don’t recall a time he truly sounded nervous or borderline panicky.

You suppose you’ve never seen him under duress like that before.

Good. It means you had the upper hand.

“ – mean, it’s not a bad place, just not too homey. I could help you spruce things up! It would require the use of my hands though, so maybe we could negotiate that – ”

Snorting at his predicament (that you put him in), you interrupt his rambling by snatching one of your batons and pointing it at him threateningly.

“Zip. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them.”

Slime’s rambling cuts short with his mouth still agape. His eyes dart between your face and the baton warily.

“What are you going to do if I refuse?” he asks, eyes wide, body fidgety.

The corner of your lip twitches up in a smirk, and you draw closer to rest the tip of your baton under his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up to look at you.

“If you refuse,” you begin slowly, trailing your eyes over his obscured features, “you’re going to be a lot more black-and-blue when I return you to your fellow heroes.”

He meets your eyes with a wide-eyed gaze, treating you to front row seats of brown speckled blue eyes. You’re surprised that you never noticed that before, though you suppose you’ve never been this close to Slime before no matter how much you tussled with him.

It seems as though you’d finally intimidated him into submission, as his breathing slows and shoulders set almost cooperatively. So, it catches you off guard when his lips quirk up and he lets out a little breath through his nose.

“Freaky, I like it.”

Frowning, you’re about to throw a remark when a hand suddenly shoots up to grab onto your wrist. A hand that should’ve been bound behind his back.

“What – ”

You don’t get any more time to react as Slime’s other hand reaches forward to shove you backwards. At the same time, his leg kicks out to knock your feet from under you.

In a second, you’re slammed with your back to the hard warehouse floor, the complete upset of your balance sending you to the ground. You hear your baton go skittering across the floor as Slime lands on top with you, hips straddling your thighs to keep you in place.

One hand is still around your wrist, while the other presses onto your collarbone.

Normally, your body would’ve kicked into overdrive by instinct and started pushing him off you, but your brain was still reeling from his comment and his body on yours and how close his face is.

“At least take me to dinner first,” Slime continues, a smirk rising on his lips.

“What the fuck,” you sputter.

Finally regaining one brain cell, your free hand comes up to jab at his throat. Unfortunately, he anticipates your attack, and his hand on your collarbone quickly slides to your wrist, capturing it and holding it next to your head, mirroring your other wrist.

It’s your turn to stare at him wide-eyed, wiggling in his grip in attempts of some futile escape plan. With both his arms caging you now, you’re stuck under his weight with no way out. The cogs in your brain were running on overdrive.

It didn’t help that you could feel every puff of hot breath against your throat when he exhaled.

You wish you could say you had some experience breaking out of this position, but truth be told, you were bailed out by another villain anytime Slime managed to catch you like this.

As though he could read your thoughts, Slime raises an eyebrow almost mockingly at you.

“What’s wrong? No friend to help you out of this one, huh?”

You glare at him before attempting to buck your hips to upset his weight, but the hero had placed himself over your thighs instead of your hips, smartly evading your escape attempt.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I don’t think we’re at that base yet. Although, it could be negotiated.”

“The only negotiation we are going to have is one that gets you off me, you bastard,” you shoot back.

Slime chuckles, much to your chagrin. But he quickly calms and turns serious.

“Listen, I’m not sure what you were going to try and get out of me, but you’ve already lost the upper hand here. So, why not we just call it a day, eh?”

You keep glaring at him.

“Will you get off me then?”

“Depends. Will you try to attack me?”

“Yes.”

“What if I get off you and take you to dinner some time?”

“Yes – what?”

You’re so caught off guard that your body slackens under him. Staring up at him, you notice something shining in his eyes.

Something like hope.

“I mean it,” he repeats. “Will you let me take you to dinner some time?”

As the two of you gaze into each other’s eyes, his grip on you relaxes slightly. Taking the opportunity, you headbutt him and slip your hands from his grip, pushing him to the side and getting up on your feet. You don’t look back at him before you book it out of the warehouse, swiftly pulling yourself up into a ledge on the side of the warehouse he wouldn’t be able to notice you on when he came out.

Seconds later, Slime is sprinting out of the warehouse, scanning the immediate area for you. He chuckles a little before cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling:

“You never said no!”

You roll your eyes, holding in a scoff as you watch him leave, figuring his way back to the city centre.

You’re not sure why you remain there, on the side of the warehouse. But you sit there and recall the events that had just happened. How he managed to outsmart you and undo his binds; how he quickly overpowered you before you could even start interrogating him.

How right it felt for the weight of his body to be over yours.

Feeling warmth creep up your neck, you shake the thoughts out of your head. There was no way you were falling for a hero, right?

[usetheeauthor]

Video Games (MDNI +18)

🎶I heard that you like the bad girls, honey? Is that true?🎶

Sub!Boyfriend!Arisu Ryohei x Dom!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend games all day instead of paying attention to you. You know exactly how to get him out of his own world.

A/N: Wrote another sub!Arisu fic because I’m horny and I want to slut this man out. He’s so underrated in the fandom and I don’t get why. Do you see that innocent face? This man is begging to be folding like a pretzel.

Word Count: 994 words

Warnings: smut, handjob, biting, hair pulling, choking, kissing/french kissing, saliva as lube, spit kink, cum eating, dacryphilia, daddy kink

You knew the disadvantages of having a gamer boyfriend but you figured that Arisu was more than worth it. Now you’re not so sure anymore.

Just how is it possible that this man could stay in front of a screen for hours on end, mindlessly shooting enemies? Not once has he looked up at you to make sure that you’re still there. You just might very well leave.

Except you were incredibly horny.

There was something about your boyfriend that just made you so insatiable. You’ve never had a sexual appetite this intense before but whenever you’re in his presence all you want to do is tie him to your bed and use him until you’re both spent.

Sometimes, you wondered if your boyfriend felt this way, too. You get that he enjoys sex but it’s almost as if he’d rather game than make love to you.

You huff out loud. He glances at you for a moment, unaware of your lust-filled thoughts. You guess you should test your theory.

Standing up from your seat on the couch, you alert him enough for him to do a double take. Nonetheless, he returns his attention back to the game, headphones over his ears as he shouts commands at his team.

You approach him from behind the couch, removing the headset and throwing them off to the side.

“Hanii, I’m a little busy, here.” Arisu groans, frustration pickled in his tone.

“I know,” You whisper seductively in his ear. “But I want you.”

A shiver goes down his spine. “I can’t leave the guys. We’re right in the middle of a serious game.”

“I just wanna play with you for a bit. Why should you get to have all the fun?” You pout, leaning over the couch a little to rub his clothed erection. He’s already starting to grow in your hands.

“Please…” Arisu rasps.

You kiss and suck his neck, now exposed from lowering his hoodie. Continuing to palm his thick length, you could feel the faint motion of his hips rolling up in a circle.

“Should I stop?” You ask, teasingly.

“Uh-uh.” He protests, eyes closed.

“That’s what I thought.” You say, pulling down his shorts and underwear with his assistance and free him of his restraints. Your mouth waters at the sight of his dick. It was just so pleasingly beautiful. Thick and decent in length, he knew exactly how to use it to hit the deepest parts of you.

You hold your palm out in front of him, signaling him to spit. Arisu obeys, whimpering once you began coating his cock with his saliva and slowly stroking him. His ragged breaths fill the air and it takes everything in you not to ravish him. Your free hand grabs a fistful of his hair, turning his head to the side for a kiss. Upping the theatrics of the kiss, you massage your tongue over his while moaning. It was absolutely pornographic.

Sucking on his bottom lip, you drag it along with you before letting it go with faint pop. Your grip tightens around him, focusing your clenched fist around the sensitive tip of his cock.

His mouth parts, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. He looks so amazing. How was it possible that you were his first girlfriend with beauty like that? You clasp a hand around his neck, applying enough pressure to choke out a sob.

“Y/n…”

You bite down on his earlobe, stroking him quicker. “Ryohei, don’t hold back. Make some noise for me.”

Arisu does as you say. No longer afraid to be vulnerable with being subservient to you. With every tug, he makes a soft ‘uh, uh, uh’ sound. He could feel his balls drawing up, the tension in the pit of his stomach building up.

“I’m gonna cum.” He whines.

“I wanna see your eyes when you cum. Please, daddy.” You were surprised yourself that you let that slip out. You’ve never called a guy that before especially not when you’re the dominant one in bed. But you were just so desperate to please him that he’d earned the title in that moment.

You could tell that it was just what he needed to let go, eyes open as you stare back at him intensely. He lets out a guttural moan, back arching as he spills over himself. His warm cum spurts out and runs down your fist and his tummy. You continue to jerk him, wanting to extend his pleasure for as long as he could take it.

“That’s it, daddy. Let go. Make a mess for me.” You kiss up his neck some more, it slightly sweaty from the exertion.

He begins to shudder and sob at the overstimulation. His nails sink into the couch cushion under him, searching for something to ground him. You have mercy on him, removing your hand and he can breathe again.

You make a show of licking his essence off your palm and fingers before crawling up the overhead of the couch, rolling onto the seat beside him. You plop your head in his lap, his dick still out but long gone soft. He hasn’t moved since his orgasm.

You stare up at him concern. “My love?”

He looks down at you in his lap with a blissed out smile and his hair was messy. “I’m back.”

“Good to know. I was worried I lost you there.” You giggle, soothing his hair.

He snaps out of his daze when he hears the notification sound from the TV. He quickly takes the controller to open the message.

“Dude, if you were going to abandon the game to get laid, at least give us a heads up. Also, your mic’s on.”

Arisu blushes profusely, taking a throw pillow to shove in his face. He muffles, “We forgot to turn off the mic! They’ll never let me live it down.”

“I’m sure they enjoyed the show.” You wink, rubbing his back.

[fizzydrink698]

passenger | jennie

kinktober day 3: car sex

pairing: kim jennie x female reader

word-count: 5.2k

genre: romance, fluffy smut

warnings: swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, the inherent awkward manoeuvring of car sex, some real fuzzy emotions

summary:

Settling herself down into the space next to you, she draped the blanket over the two of you, shifting closer ever so slightly when it proved not quite big enough to cover you both easily.

…You know, if you’d had to guess where this night would take you, snuggling up with Kim Jennie under a blanket wouldn’t exactly be your first thought.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Those were Jennie’s first words when she got into your car, her expression cold as she tried to manoeuvre her dress skirts inside so that she could close the car door without trapping them.

Amazingly, despite the rain beginning to pour down outside, she looked incredibly put-together. You’d only really met her a few times – maybe enough to count on two hands – but she always seemed so chic and well-dressed. Designer clothes, perfect hair, and just that…like, aura of elegance.

You didn’t know Jennie particularly well, but when you got the call just after midnight from Rosé that Jennie needed a lift home and the situation was, quote, “really not good”, you didn’t hesitate to make the hour-long journey to her.

You had expected her to be at some kind of house party, or some kind of typical date location – like a restaurant, or something. Not a black-tie gala hosted at a hotel so grand and towering that it made your eyes water just to look at it.

Still, you knew Jennie ran in slightly different circles from you and Rosé. Maybe this was a typical Friday night for her.

You didn’t hesitate to start driving, pulling out of the hotel courtyard with as much speed as you could get away with – but you couldn’t deny the vague flicker of unease in your gut.

“Bad night?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the road.

Jennie didn’t reply.

You continued, trying to keep your voice light. “Like, ‘the food was gross and my foot got stepped on’ bad, or…you know, ‘police report’ bad?”

Jennie sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “Just…people being assholes. No laws broken, I just…didn’t want to be there anymore.”

Slightly reassured, you let the subject drop and continued to drive on in silence.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jennie rummage through her clutch purse, draw out her phone – and promptly sigh. “Do you have a phone charger port in here?”

Phone charger port? Your car still had a tape deck. Phone charger ports were a little beyond your budget.

“No, sorry,” you said, glancing over at her. “Do you need one?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you realised how dumb they were – a realisation only compounded by Jennie’s slow blink at you as she held her dead phone.

“…That was a stupid question,” you mumbled, turning back to the road.

Jennie had the grace not to respond verbally, but her facial expression was enough.

You made the resolution there and then that, for your own pride, it was probably best to keep your mouth shut in front of the pretty girl for the rest of the journey.

That resolution lasted all of twenty-five minutes, ending dramatically when you found yourself stuck on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere and your back wheels stuck over half a foot deep in mud.

You stood there, outside, staring at the wheels in disbelief as rain just bucketed down from the heavens and drenched you. You barely felt it, a little numb with shock and the pervasive thought of just…what the fuck?

You’d tried everything, but there was no way you were getting out of this without a tow.

Reluctantly, you looked back towards the front of the car – where you could just about see the silhouette of Jennie in the passenger seat, her body turned and leaning over the seat to look back at you.

Shit. This was not your night.

Well, to be fair, it was definitely not her night either.

Putting on a brave face, you squared your shoulders and headed back to the driver’s side, pulling open the car door and wincing slightly as your soaked clothes made contact with the fabric seat.

“Uh, so the car is like stuck in that mud,” you explained, trying your best to keep your voice light. You grabbed your phone from where it had been resting in your cupholder, giving you something to look at that wasn’t Jennie’s face. “We’re going to need a tow truck, I think, so let me just…”

With such a – and you say this lovingly – heap of junk for a car, you had the good sense to save the number of a roadside assistance company in your contacts.

That good sense was wasted, however, when you tried to dial the number and were immediately met with a ‘call failed’ message.

No service.

Of course.

“OK,” you said, lifting your phone up as high as it could go and trying to call again, just in case – but to no avail. “There’s no signal here. I can try walking around when the rain stops to find some, and–”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Jennie pointed out. “There’s not going to be signal for, like, miles around. And…”

She trailed off, attention turning towards the window. Without your car’s headlights, you knew it would be completely pitch-black outside. You briefly imagined trying to stumble around in the middle of the night, the ground still slick with rainwater and mud, and your stomach immediately knotted with dread.

Jennie sighed. “Wait until morning, at least.”

Morning?

Morning was still several hours away, which was a very long time to be stuck in a car with someone you barely knew.

To make matters worse, you were starting to shiver. Your wet clothes were clinging to your skin, growing colder and colder with every passing minute. There was a spare change of workout clothes in the gym bag on your backseat, but there was a very obvious problem with changing clothes right now.

“You look freezing,” Jennie noted, eyebrows raised as you tried not to visibly shudder from the cold in front of her. “Is there, like, anything in this car that you can use to dry off?”

“I mean, I’ve got…I’ve got some other clothes,” you admitted, jabbing a thumb towards the bag behind you.

“Maybe you should put those on, before you get pneumonia.”

“I mean, I can, but are you OK with…I mean, I should probably make sure that you’re–”

Jennie rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Believe it or not, I’m capable of turning around while you’re getting changed.”

You wanted so badly to defend your reluctance, to press your argument further, but you managed to bite your tongue. You awkwardly clambered over the centre console and through the gap between the front seats towards the back, thankfully managing to avoid contact with Jennie as you did so.

With one last glance towards Jennie, just to make sure she was fine with this and facing the other way, you began to peel off your wet t-shirt.

Aware that undressing in complete silence – especially when that undressing involved a long, protracted struggle with wet clothing – would be horrifically awkward, you cleared your throat and tried to make conversation. “So, what’s up with the big fancy party in the middle of nowhere?”

“It was this fundraiser thing. Work-related,” Jennie explained. “One of our biggest donors owns that hotel, and they offered to host. What about you?”

You paused, one arm out of your shirt, confused. “What about me?”

“What were you doing around here, if you were close enough to give me a ride back to the city?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say. “I wasn’t?”

“What? You were at home?” Jennie asked, her tone incredulous.

“Yeah?”

She paused, seemingly at a loss for words. “That’s…wait, how far is that? An hour away?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. What should you have done? Downplay it?

You watched Jennie tilt her head, and when she spoke again, her voice was a little softer. “…Rosé said you were nice.”

Your face warmed, unused to compliments. You stalled for a second by taking off your shirt entirely, tossing it onto the driver’s seat. Reaching for the dry t-shirt in your gym bag, you managed to reply with a shrug. “Yeah, I like to think I am, I guess.”

“Maybe too nice,” Jennie pointed out. It wasn’t accusatory, not at all, but it was almost like a warning. Like a piece of advice.

You thought this over, putting on the t-shirt. “…Nah. I’m the perfect amount of nice. Everyone else should step up and get on my level.”

To your surprise, Jennie laughed. Kind of. Her version of a laugh was apparently a soft exhale through her nose, but you caught the way her cheekbones lifted for the briefest of smiles.

You cringed at the feeling of peeling off your wet jeans, throwing them away to join your shirt on the driver’s seat, and pulled on the thick, comfy pair of sweatpants instead. They were a little worn, maybe, but so soft. After suffering in those soaked clothes, they felt like heaven.

Now that you had solved the wet clothes issue, you took a moment to assess the situation the two of you had found yourselves in.

Staying the night in a car was not exactly ideal. The biggest concern was security, but in this regard, you were somewhat reassured. Your car might have been ancient, but it was big and sturdy, with strong thick windows you could barely see out of, let alone into. Nothing was getting in.

The next biggest concern, and one in which the solution was less obvious, was how the fuck you were going to stay warm. You couldn’t keep your engine running forever, which meant eventually, the heaters were going to have to turn off.

You might have been fine with your new clothes, but Jennie’s dress wasn’t exactly built for cold weather. You looked it over for a moment, how bare it left her arms, her shoulders, her delicate collarbones. She’d probably get so cold, even if she did look…

An idea suddenly came to you, and after a second of rummaging around in the dimness of the overhead light, you found what you were looking for, folded up and hidden away in one of the footwells. “Hey, Jennie?”

She turned around, eyes dropping for a second to note your new clothes, before bringing them back up to your face. “Yeah?”

“You want a blanket?” You asked, grabbing the item in question and extending it to her.

Her gaze shifted towards the blanket, brow furrowing. “You have a blanket in your car?”

“Yeah, it’s from…” you paused, debating whether it was worth telling the whole story, and decided you might as well. “I went on this star-gazing date thing with this girl who was super into astronomy a few weeks ago. The date kinda fizzled out, but the views were nice and the blanket was warm. I just forgot to take it out of my car.”

“Oh,” Jennie murmured, pausing for a second. Then, she reached for the blanket, taking it and drawing it over her shoulders. It was big enough that she could bundle herself within it, and you couldn’t help but smile as she took a moment to do just that, her hands pulling it tight around her.

It was…honestly, kind of cute, which was something you definitely didn’t expect to come from someone as cool and sophisticated as Jennie.

“It should be nice and warm,” you said, brightly. “It’s super thick.”

“Yeah, it’s fluffy,” Jennie murmured, almost to herself.

“I just figured you’d need it. I’m going to turn the engine off soon, so it’s going to be freezing in here.”

Jennie looked over at you. “Wait, do you have a blanket too?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said, with a shrug.

Jennie made a face. “Again, like I said, you’re too nice. This is your car, and your blanket, and you’re going to spend the whole night freezing here without it. Stop inconveniencing yourself just for others.”

You frowned. “It’s not an inconvenience, you just need it more than I do.”

“Your hair’s still wet.”

“You’re wearing spaghetti straps.”

“Fine, we’ll just share the blanket then,” Jennie declared with a huff, like it was no big deal. Before you could even react, she was already tossing the blanket onto the backseat. “Do you want me to turn the engine off now? It’s already been running for ages.”

You blinked, still thrown by this sudden news of blanket-sharing. “Uh…yeah, I guess?”

You watched her lean over and turn off the ignition, retrieving your keys easily. The car engine, once a comforting steady hum of background noise, fell silent, as did your heaters.

Now, there was a strange air of quiet as Jennie made her way through the gap to join you on the backseat – and how the hell did she manage to make the journey over the centre console look that smooth?

Settling herself down into the space next to you, she draped the blanket over the two of you, shifting closer ever so slightly when it proved not quite big enough to cover you both easily.

…You know, if you’d had to guess where this night would take you, snuggling up with Kim Jennie under a blanket wouldn’t exactly be your first thought.

You weren’t quite touching, but you could feel her warmth, the unmistakable sign of just how close she was, just almost within reach.

You cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts before they wandered into more dangerous territory. “So, I don’t think I’ve ever heard how you and Rosé became friends?”

The corner of Jennie’s lip turned upwards into a half-smile. She reached up to her artfully arranged hairdo, began to carefully remove the hairpins holding it together, and talked as she did so. “We went to high school together. I only joined halfway through the year, and my English still kind of sucked. She…took me under her wing, I guess.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah. She’s always been great with things like that. With people,” Jennie said, before looking down at the blanket, and she shrugged one shoulder. “And I’ve just always been the bitch.”

You jerked upwards a little, affronted on her behalf. “I’ve never thought you were a bitch, Jennie.”

She removed another hairpin, and made a thoroughly unconvinced noise. “Pfft.”

“I haven’t!”

“Yeah, well…” she paused, eyeing you for a moment. “There’s not exactly many of you.”

“Well, screw what everyone else thinks,” you said, unable to stop yourself from raising your voice just a little. “They didn’t see you at Pride.”

“Pride?”

“Yeah,” you said. You remembered it clearly, even now, two years later. It was Rosé’s first time going to Pride after coming out, and she was so nervous. And then Jennie had turned up, sunglasses on and stone-faced - with a little Etsy-sourced handmade ally flag pin on the lapel of her Chanel jacket, and waving a pocket-sized rainbow flag in solidarity. “That’s always what I think about when I think of you. How good of a friend you were to Rosé that day.”

Jennie blinked at you, her face completely slack with surprise. You felt your stomach drop just a little, and you couldn’t tell if you’d said something wrong, or if maybe you’d said something perfectly right.

After a long moment, Jennie turned away, frowning. “…You really are too nice.”

You sighed, leaning back against the seat. On a whim, you shuffle just the tiniest bit closer, just so you can properly envelop yourself within this blanket. “I’m really not. I shouldn’t be, anyway.”

Jennie didn’t reply to that. Instead, she looked up at the roof of the car, and you pretended that you didn’t notice the brief second she bit her lip in thought. “So, I’ve never really asked, but…are you and Rosé a thing?”

You were caught off-guard by this question, but not by much. This wasn’t the first time you’d been asked something along these lines, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Nope. Just friends.”

“OK. And are you going to stay just friends?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” you remarked.

“It’s just…I figured that since you both like girls, and you’re really close…”

Jenny might have trailed off, but you could catch the gist of the sentence pretty easily – and you were determined to give a definitive answer to such an open-ended question. “

“No. She’s great, I love her but…you know, you don’t have to be into someone to love them. It’s like your dude friends, right? They like girls but that doesn’t mean they want to bang?”

Jennie’s expression faltered, and for a brief moment, you caught a flicker of emotion in her eye. “I wish.”

Those words were edged with something, and you realised you might have stumbled onto something a little too personal.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Jennie asked, and you were so startled by the sudden question that for a moment, you forgot all about that fairly obvious change in subject.

“…Yeah. Not many,” you admitted, but you weren’t particularly filled with guilt or shame or anything like that. Just a vague sense of embarrassment for your younger self, but that was pretty standard. “I’m always busy with school and stuff.”

With what was apparently the final hairpin removed, Jennie made quick work of the hair tie keeping her hair in such a perfect bun. Her hair – long, black, smooth, shiny – fell around her face, framing her perfectly. “What’s it like?”

“Um. Nice? I haven’t really dated-dated dudes, but I found that girls usually understood me a little more. The ones I’ve dated anyway. They could pick up all my little emotional tells. Intense, maybe. You can get very attached very quickly.”

“Hmm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Jennie said. She opened her mouth like she was going to say more, closed it quickly, but there was a lingering thoughtfulness in her eyes. Like she was thinking very hard about something.

“What is it?”

“…I think…uh, well, it’s something I’ve…” Jennie sighed, frustrated at her uncharacteristic stumble with words, and tried to simplify it. “Girls are pretty.”

“They are.”

“And…some of them are more than that.”

“Yeah, quite a few.”

“Some of them are…” Jennie trailed off, looking at you. “You know, some are…”

You waited for her to finish her sentence.

She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned forward suddenly, and kissed you square on the mouth.

You barely had time to think, frozen, and she withdrew almost immediately.

“Oh, God,” she lamented, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, wordless from shock.

Jennie kissed you?

Jennie kissed you.

Jennie – like, Jennie – kissed you.

…Huh.

“You don’t have to apologise,” you said, words slowly coming back to you. “It’s fine.”

She made a face – or, you thought she did, it was hard to tell through her hands – and muttered back. “No, I…I didn’t even ask, at the very fucking least, let alone…ugh.”

She sharply turned away, curling in on herself. Even from this angle, with her back to you, you could tell she was hoping for the ground would swallow her whole.

And still, from the glimpse of her cheek in profile, you thought you could see a blush.

You swallowed, looking down at your hands, trying to seem cool and composed as you shrugged. “You can ask now, if you want.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jennie still. She turned, slowly, fixing you with the wariest of looks. “…What?”

You glanced over to her, trying your best to stay calm despite the way your heart was starting to pound, and repeated. “You can ask now if you want.”

Jennie stared at you for a moment, silent.

And then…

“Can I…” she paused, the pink of her cheeks darkening even more, but she managed to stay strong. “Can I kiss you?”

You swallowed. “Yeah. Yes. Yes, you can.”

She leaned forward – and paused, just for a moment. The briefest moment in which to double-check one’s actions, to decide just what exactly one should do, and to change course if needed. Jennie paused for all that time, and still chose to follow through and kiss you again.

This time, you were ready. You met her halfway, one hand lifting up to cradle Jennie’s face. The kiss was sweet, tender, and when you pulled away to breathe, she chased after you tenaciously to reconnect.

Her lips were soft, full, and you couldn’t help but want to run your tongue along the bottom lip, just a little.

Not yet. Let her adjust, let her get used to….

You felt her hand find your waist under the blanket, and you shivered at the feeling of her fingertips just brushing the sensitive skin below the waistband of your sweatpants.

Taking that as an encouragement to start exploring, you let your hand wander from her cheek to her jaw, to the softness of her hair. You let the little strands wind around your fingers, combing through it, and you murmured against her lips. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, Jennie.”

Jennie didn’t respond in words, but instead by pressing her lips to the soft skin under your jaw. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the seat, and your breath left you shakily.

Her other hand found your thigh, pressing down slightly as she used it to support her own weight, to move even closer.

You were sat there, back pressed against the seat, legs parted, Jennie’s mouth on your neck, wishing for her to take notice and climb onto your lap, maybe slide that hand upwards underneath your shirt, maybe–

And then it hit you.

You stilled, muscles tensing, and you tried to pull away. “Jennie…”

She made the softest whine, protesting, and you had to very purposefully grip her by the shoulder and gently but firmly push her away before she realised just how serious you were being.

“Jennie,” you breathed, voice still uneven. You tried to stay firm, even in the face of her newly mussed hair, in the pink of her cheeks and the parting of her lips as she drew much-needed breath. “Jennie, you’re…you were upset tonight. I don’t want to–”

“No, I wasn’t,” Jennie argued, her gaze dropping to your lips.

You swallowed. “You were. Maybe this isn’t the best idea right now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t…I don’t want to take advantage, if you’re feeling–”

“You’re not.”

“Jenn–”

“You’re not,” she repeated, insistent, and there was an unmistakable edge to her tone. Frustration, maybe? Anger? “Because I’m not upset, I…”

She paused, sighing bitterly, glancing upwards as she debated something.

“…Look, you want to know what happened tonight?” Jennie said, finally, jaw set with a determination to prove you wrong. “One of my guy friends asked me out. I turned him down, the fucking nicest way I could, and he still made a huge scene over it. My ex was there, they got into a whole thing, and I didn’t want to be there anymore to witness their dick-measuring contest. That’s it.”

She took a deep breath, as you tried to absorb her words, tried to wrap your head around this information, and continued with a new vulnerability in her voice.

“It didn’t upset me. It…it embarrassed me, sure. It fucking pissed me off, definitely. But it didn’t upset me. You’re not taking advantage just because I was in a bad mood. Was, because then we started talking, and…”

She glanced away, not quite brave enough to finish that sentence, but you could fill in the gaps yourself. Something – some warm feeling – bloomed in your chest.

“So, if you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Jennie finished, squaring her shoulders, keeping her head held high as she stared you down directly. “But don’t pin it on me. I know what I want.”

You held her gaze for a moment, saying nothing.

And then, silently, you rested your hand on the curve of her hip, and watched the way her chest swelled with a surprised intake of breath.

“And what do you want?” You asked, voice very purposefully light, even as your thumb began to trace circles into the thin fabric of her dress.

Exhaling, slowly, Jennie let herself relax into your touch. “…More of that.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“You to kiss me,” Jennie said, bold, defiant.

You smiled, blinking innocently. “Kiss you where?”

The memory of her reaction – the way her face flushed, the way she almost choked on her own breath, the swallow that made her throat bob – would burn itself into your mind, never to be forgotten.

This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. You let your tongue run over her bottom lip, just as you’d wanted, before turning your attention elsewhere – the pink of her cheeks, the long column of her neck, the collarbone you’d been trying your best not to stare at the moment she got into your car.

You looped an arm around her waist and gently, carefully, pulled her onto your lap – not quite all the way, just enough for your thigh to slot itself comfortably between her legs.

“This is such a nice dress, Jennie,” you noted, running one hand up her side, from hip to waist to just brushing the side of her chest before coming up to her shoulder. Carefully, you hooked your index finger under the thin strap of her dress, letting it fall just off the shoulder.

You pressed a kiss to where it had once been, then a little lower. Then, a little lower again. And again. Slowly, carefully, giving her plenty of time to stop you if she wanted. She didn’t, and when your mouth finally found its way to her breast, she let out the quietest little sigh.

It was becoming very obvious that Jennie wasn’t wearing a bra. You’d thought maybe she could have been wearing a strapless one, but no, it was becoming increasingly clear through the thin material that she absolutely was not. When your lips closed around her nipple through the fabric, Jennie’s hand found itself curling around the back of your head, and she let herself…press against your thigh.

That could be fun, you thought idly, getting distracted by Jennie’s first whimper when you let your teeth scrape against her. It could be fun to let Jennie ride your thigh.

Except there was something in you that wanted something a little more…hands-on. Maybe, just maybe, deep down, you’d admit that you wanted to show off a little.

So, you pulled away from her breast to press your lips to hers once more, bringing your left hand up to cradle her jaw.

And with your right, you let it slide under her tangle of dress skirts, and gently rested it on her bare knee.

“Is this OK?” You asked, pressing a little peck to the corner of her mouth.

“Only if it doesn’t stay there,” Jennie mumbled, tilting your head with her own hands to resume kissing.

Just as she wished, you very slowly slid your hand up her leg, along the soft and sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Jennie rolled her hips against your thigh, just once, impatient, but you didn’t rush yourself. This was half the fun, letting the anticipation build.

A fucking rush of satisfaction filled you when you felt just how wet Jennie had gotten for you. What an ego-boost it was, to run your fingers over where she and your thigh connected, to feel the damp lace against your fingertips, to hear Jennie breathily accuse you of teasing.

With another kiss, this time open-mouthed and against her neck, you pushed her underwear to one side and found her clit with the pad of your thumb. You rubbed circles into it, slowly, just to test what she might like.

Jennie moaned, loudly, her head falling forward. Her mouth was so close to your ear, allowing you to hear every single little catch in her breathing, every choked noise, everything, as you began to learn her body. She was sensitive, she liked it slow, and she especially liked when you murmured her name. You learned how to tell when she wanted something, when something was too much, how the muscles of her thighs tensed and clamped down at just the right balance of almost ‘too much’.

Your free hand drifted to the curve of her ass, squeezing slightly as you gently lifted her up – giving you just enough space to slip your middle finger inside of her.

“Fuck, Jennie,” you breathed, as she groaned and rocked backwards onto your hand. Before long, you could add your ring finger – and with the smallest repositioning of your hand, you made sure that with every motion, your thumb would drag across her most sensitive spot, and you felt the breath that punched its way out of her chest when she first discovered this.

You could make her come like this. And what’s more, you realised, you could make her come like this easily.

But there was something else that tempted you, an image that refused to leave your mind.

Why not leave it up to Jennie?

“You want me to keep doing this?” You asked, breathless, pausing to kiss the underside of her jaw. “Or do you want my mouth? It’s up to you, baby.”

The endearment slipped its way out of your mouth before you could stop it, but Jennie didn’t seem to mind. You watched her struggle with the decision, eyes dark and dazed with lust, biting her lip.

“Are you…” Jennie began, before pausing to let out another choked moan, eyes squeezing shut for a second, “…good?”

There was no way to answer that question without sounding like you were bragging, so you settled for a semi-sheepish grin. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

Jennie exhaled shakily, and nodded. “OK. Mouth, then.”

Carefully, you moved Jennie off of your lap, laying her down on her back across the backseat. You couldn’t deny that your new position, kneeling between her legs, one of your feet jammed in one footwell, the other leg awkwardly pressed against the edge of the seat, was cramped – but it was so, so worth the noises that forced their way out of Jennie’s mouth when your tongue brushed against her clit.

Fuck, it was so worth it. It was worth all the confined space and awkward manoeuvring that sex in a car provided, it was worth the hour-long journey, it was worth getting stuck in the mud and the inevitable wait for a tow truck and the freezing cold of the night, because all of it brought you Kim Jennie grinding up against your tongue, close to sobbing as she finally unravelled, coming with a sharp cry and thighs clamping down around your head.

You let her ride it out, watching her shake as she came down from the high, hooking your arm around her thigh as you turned your head to press a kiss to the soft skin there.

It took a few minutes, the car perfectly silent except for the heavy breathing coming from both of you, almost in unison, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Until, finally, Jennie managed to push herself up to a seated position, chest still visibly rising and falling with every breath. She took in the sight of you, letting her head loll to one side against the headrest, and she gave you one of her little half-smiles.

“I never thanked you for driving all the way out here, did I?”

“No,” you replied, slowly, trying to keep yourself from smiling back.

Jennie reached out, offering her hand to you.

“Then, get up here and show me how to.”

[cheollipop]

So maybe I am just emotional but I am in the soft girl hours of the sleepover.

You know I love big, kinda dumb men that are in touch with their feelings, Song Mingi... Just imagine having a bad day, a rough week, or an okay month. It kind of seems like it's dragging on, and for the sake of holding on, you try to keep pushing forward. Today is not a push-forward day. Water overflowed in your bathroom; you have to turn the water off bc there's no off value to that pipe. You are a little behind on work, and the sites that you need are down, and the deadline is closer than you would like it to be. All you want is a warm shower and to curl into the covers until you forget what day it is. Mingi notices you slowly folding into yourself. It's difficult to be present with so much to worry about. So today he called just to check in. Through blurry eyes, you answer. Unable to hold the dam back any longer, you let out a soft sob, and he's throwing on his coat and snatching his keys off the counter to come get you.

Mingi stays on the phone with you until he climbs the stairs to your apartment. Opening the door to him, there are dried tear marks on your cheeks that you have failed to wipe completely away, but he just wraps you in the biggest hug. His hands pull you close and tight, squeezing a few more tears from your eyes.

"Let's go shower at my house. Then I'll feed you while we watch TV on my couch. That sound good?" He mumbles before pulling you back to look at you. Pinching your lips tightly together, the worried look on your boyfriend's face just makes you want to cry more, but maybe a nice shower and some private time is what you need to clock out of life for a bit.

Shut up, I'm going to cry my eyes out lolol

Nora I am too soft for life rn

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

oh, my nabi. the warmth and comfort this made me feel—reading your ask and writing it out—drove me to tears, on multiple occasions. i was initially saving this drabble for a bad day, and ended up starting it after a particularly taxing one, but I actually wrote most of this while feeling quite...happy. so putting myself in mingi's shoes instead of reader's was the way to go, i guess. I really hope I did this justice, and that it floods you with lots and lots of comfort &lt;3

pairing: bf!song mingi x gender neutral!reader

w.c.: 0.8k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentioned symptoms of anxiety & depression, non-sexual nudity (they shower together)

note: you are not alone

The drive to his apartment was silent, save for the wind blowing through the cracked-open windows to send short, blonde strands flying in different directions. The sun had departed from its locus, descending the changing sky to kiss the horizon, a gradient of orange and pink painted before your eyes. Your gaze moved off the breathtaking scenery to focus on Mingi—a hand resting over the leather wheel while the other locked with yours, glancing over at you every few minutes, squeezing your fingers to remind you of his presence.

As if you could forget, you thought, as he guided you down the hall to his door, twisting the keys while your hands remained intertwined, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your skin as he ushered you inside with a swing of his arm.

Steam engulfed the small bathroom, the warmth of the shower brushing against your skin as delicate fingers helped you out of the hoodie you should’ve washed last week. Mingi didn’t complain, though; he didn’t even comment, wordlessly adding it to the pile of clothes building up in the corner. Your insecurity must have bled into your expression, strong arms pulling you ito his chest and plush lips pressing against your forehead.

“I’ve got you,” was all he said, but it was though you were already immersed underneath the balmy stream, a comfortable heat searing through your skin as he held you against him.

With your back to him, Mingi noted the way your muscles slackened under the steaming water, the soapy droplets rushing down the curve of your spine while he worked his fingers through your hair, hoping his shampoo was strong enough to cleanse away some of the burden you’d carried on your shoulders, the dread he’d helplessly watched eat away at you for weeks. Twisting your body to face him, his thumb and pointer closed around your chin, tilting your head back to rinse the scented suds out of your hair, leaning forward to press his lips to your cheekbone while the water warmed your scalp.

Washing away weeks-worth of grime and self-loathing with delicate palms and a lathered washcloth, Mingi silently spoke of his infatuation, his care, his unconditional, overwhelming devotion to you. Even when you were broken, anxious, blind to any and every possibility of a future worth looking forward to. Mingi was there, calloused hands picking up the brush you’d broken and painting tomorrow, then the day after, one stroke at a time—open fields of daisies and sunflowers, the hopeful orb of light splaying golden rays over the land while the man with the grown-out roots stood amidst the flora, pearly teeth reflecting the daylight as he watched you approach him, his warmth seeping into your very soul as you buried yourself within his embrace.

You felt light, your breathing steady while you rested your head on Mingi’s chest, his thighs on either side of you as you curled up in his lap. You’d heard the doorbell while you were dressing, walking into the living room to find takeout containers spread out over the coffee table, and a shoujo anime paused on his TV.

“It’ll pass,” he spoke, tapping the spoon against your bottom lip and watching you take the steaming food into your mouth. Your eyes remained downcast, and he noticed hints of guilt tainting your features as you processed his words with inexorable disbelief.

“Mingi-“

“I know it’s difficult to see it now, so I’ll believe it for the both of us,” he held his lips to your forehead, your eyes fluttering shut and heartbeat erratic. Not because of anxiety, or dysphoria, but because of the overwhelming sense of tranquillity Mingi flooded into your chest so easily, the animation in your peripheral and the cheesy sound effects now masked under the faint movement of his lips over your face, planting kisses over the trail of tears rushing down the skin. “I’m here, (y/n). You don’t need to go through this alone.”

And you didn’t. Episode after episode played on the big screen, takeout containers and popcorn bowls resting empty on the coffee table while you remained encompassed within Mingi’s arms. The moonlight, aided by the warm hue of his standing lamp carved shadows over the drowsing man’s face, and you took in the slight part of his lips, pretty eyes shut as he explored the dreamland, limp arms somehow still firm around your figure, as though he couldn’t bear to leave you alone again, even while dormant.

The overbearing weight of your thoughts had long since mitigated, your chest rising and falling to the same rhythm as Mingi’s, and now that it was no longer overcrowded with taxing angst and negativity, hints of credibility laced themselves into his words. You ran your pointer over his knuckles—his fingers draped over your hip—a silent ‘thank you’ stuck in your throat as you mooned over the tomorrow he’d drawn out for you. A tomorrow you wanted. A tomorrow you didn’t dread. A tomorrow illuminated by a gentle sun, and a contagious, toothy smile.

[kendrene]

Hi Dren!! I hope you're doing well :)

For the prompt ask, 20. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

When Beatrice wakes up, the battered digital alarm clock Ava bought them second-hand reports it’s 3am. The nest of blankets next to her is warm, but empty. 

Her most recent dream has left a bad taste in her mouth. Her heart in the back of her throat. Adriel swooping in to take Ava away. Beatrice finding her, too late. The Halo — gone. And Ava — dead. 

That’s what has her reaching for the knife she keeps sheatherd under her pillow. What causes her to slide from underneath the covers without making a sound. If Beatrice was being logical about it, she’d admit to being overly cautious. After all, Ava may have gotten up to use the bathroom. But there’s no logic to the fear raking cold claws down her spine, and the dream — the plausibility of it — is still too vivid in her mind.

She can’t discount it.

So, she stalks through the small apartment, takes advantage of all shadows. Shannon taught her how, during her first weeks at Cat’s Cradle. One of the basic lessons, delivered in the dead of night to a class of sleepy girls ripped out of their beds. Beatrice could never forget it. Stood to attention in the moonlit nave of the cathedral, toes curled inward, the soles of her bare feet numbed by the coldness of the marble as Shannon’s voice, a gentle whisper, floated to them from the dark.

She’d explained how to walk in complete silence, talked about the soft trigonometry of shadows. Said that every surface — no matter rain, or shine or starlight — reflects a measurable quantity of light. What materials are used to bend and to absorb it, which pattern and style of clothing is best suited to a mission after dusk.

The theory of it hadn’t seemed hard. The practice — to cross the whole length of the cathedral undetected while senior sisters watched her from above like hawks — was nowhere close to easy.

At the kitchen’s threshold, finally, a sound. 

Beatrice folds her body low, crouches in the rectangle of night projected by the dresser. Extends her hand past its wooden corner, blade tilted just so. Mirrored on the edge of sharp damascus steel, the kitchen looks far away and kind of distorted, but the image is clear enough. The window has been thrown wide open to let sweet summer in, and Ava occupies a chair in front of it, her back to the door.

“Ava, what are you doing? It’s late.” Setting the knife on top of the dresser, Beatrice stands. She deliberately steps on the one floorboard that creaks, hoping Ava won’t startle. “You should get some sleep.”

°I tried.” Ava doesn’t turn. “Couldn’t fall asleep and I didn’t want to bother you. Guess I failed, uh?” 

“You didn’t. I just woke up and I—” I thought I lost you. I thought he’d found us. I was afraid you were gone. Beatrice breathes in. Pushes the words down. “I needed the toilet.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you, uh, are you coming back to bed?” 

A breeze works its way into the kitchen, scattering the maps of the area Beatrice had been studying before sleep. While not exactly cold, the wind carries a hint of a bite on its back. It makes her shiver. 

“Not yet.” Ava nods to the square of night framed by the window. “I’ve never seen a sky like this, you know? Had no idea there were so many stars.” 

The note of wonder in her voice draws Beatrice closer. She thinks, for no more than a moment, to the bed, now surely chillier than she’d left it. She could go back to it, she’s tired enough to and morning isn’t far, but the truth is she’s too used to Ava’s body next to hers, to the even breathing in her ear to fall asleep alone. Too fond of Ava’s arms, and the way they sometimes tighten around Bea’s waist in her sleep, like Ava, too, might be afraid of losing her. 

Dragging an empty chair next to Ava’s, she sits down, not quite in Ava’s space, their shoulders almost touching.

Outside the moon is low, so close to the shadowy outlines of the surrounding rooftops Beatrice swears she could simply reach up and touch it. At the end of its waning phase, it is barely a silver thread stitched into the velvet of the night, and the stars shine brighter from its absence. 

Stars. Hundreds, thousands of them. Beatrice hasn’t seen this many in years. Despite Cat’s Cradle vantage point on the hills of Antequera, light pollution from the city muddles the sky a hazy orange, making it much too bright. Only on particularly clear nights does the full spread of the stars appear, and it’s never quite like this. Not this vibrant, or this endless, the void between each pinprick of pulsing light so dark, dark, dark. 

“Do you think that’s where we go when we die?” Ava asks, hushed, causing Beatrice’s shoulders to jump. “I saw it on TV somewhere that the light of the stars is millions of years old by the time it reaches us. Some of the stars we are seeing tonight don’t actually exist anymore. But… what if it were souls, instead? Wouldn’t that be better? Maybe my mom —” Ava’s voice breaks over the word, and Beatrice dares not make a sound. Ava rarely talks about her mother. “I mean, maybe it’s people watching over us, and if souls eventually die, too, then it doesn’t matter, does it? Because they leave their light behind for us.”

Ava’s words, the idea of her dying start an ache somewhere deep in Beatrice’s chest. A pain that grows and grows, until her heart feels too heavy to keep beating against the weight of the sorrow that’s threatening to crush it, until all Beatrice can do is to hold back tears.

Her mind lingers on the brevity of life, on how that life may look sans Ava. An empty house, an emptier bed, nothingness for sky no matter the number of stars dotting it each night.

“Ava…” Ava’s gaze is still upturned, enraptured by the spectacle outside. Beatrice is glad for the respite. At least, the tears tracking down her cheeks will have a chance to dry.

“I know,” Ava rocks the chair back with a laugh that sounds a little wet. “Pretty heretical, right? I’m sure that’s what Mother Superion would say, anyway.”

“I think it’s beautiful, what you said, actually.”

“You do?” Ava half-turns, and in the uncertain glow of starlight she is beautiful, too. 

“Yeah. Um.” Beatrice clears her throat; the lump constricting it gradually softens. “People have imbued the stars with meaning since, well, since the beginning of mankind, I guess. It’s a comfort.”

“It would comfort me to leave a light on for you, after I’m gone.” The chair falls back in place with a thump. Ava pitches sideways, not shoulder to shoulder with Beatrice anymore, but nearly spilling in her lap. Beatrice’s arms automatically tighten around her.  

“You shouldn’t talk like that. You’re not going to die, Ava.” 

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep, Sister.” Ava pokes at her arm lightly, as if she knows Beatrice had been about to promise that, exactly. “You’re a nun. Nuns shouldn’t lie.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Beatrice admits aloud for the first time. It shocks her how easy the words come out, but perhaps it’s the fault of the dark and the quiet and an infinite sky full of stars. Nighttime makes everything more intimate, more sacred; this is the hour in which secrets that wouldn’t survive the harsh scrutiny of day can be set loose.

Beatrice almost slips Almost gives tangible form to the three words that have been brewing under her tongue. Seriously considers what might happen if she did. Would it be so bad for Ava to go into this war, knowing that she’s loved? Would it make things better? Worse?

She bites the inside of her cheek and tastes blood.

“I don’t want you to die, Ava.” She says instead. A wish, a hope, a plea to any god that might be listening and not only to her own. “And that’s the truth. Nun’s honor.”

“Good.” Ava snuggles in, face slanting into the crook of Beatrice’s neck. Her nose is icy cold. “Because as much as I don’t mind shining down to you from the sky one day, I like it better here.”

Beatrice rests her chin on the crown of Ava’s head, buries her nose in her hair. She can smell a faint trace of the cheap shampoo they share, and summer, the heat. The stars above them pale, then wink out one by one. Beatrice is glad to see the last one gone.

She likes Ava on this Earth, sleeping soundly in her arms better, too.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate have decided to move in and officially begin their life together. He checked out of the inn where he had been staying for the final time and packed his belongings into a trunk. In this chapter, the two of them unpack, and Sebastian tells Kate all about his family as they view old portraits.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter doesn't have any smut, but there is a discussion about using an excessive amount of potions to sleep/escape trauma and recounting memories of lost loved ones.

Art credits: @hogwartslegacypics provided the screenshot in the background, and @giselsann-opencommissions perfectly depicted these mischievous little munchkins. Giselle is an absolute pleasure to work with and has provided all of the drawings for the story. I cannot recommend her enough if you're looking to commission some art!

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

It’s well past lunch time, and Kate hurriedly puts together a lunch of roast turkey sandwiches with crunchy carrots and cucumbers on the side. At the table, Sebastian absolutely wolfs it all down, and she has to put together an additional serving for him.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to Feldcroft, yes?” Kate asks. “We’ll visit the cemetery, and perhaps you can show me where you lived.”

A sensation of panic erupts inside of him. “I don’t think we should actually go into Feldcroft. I… I’m not sure that the villagers will be friendly to me. Surely, they all know what happened to my uncle.” He imagines apparating there, watching anxiously as Feldcroft’s inhabitants begin to whisper to each other warily, close their doors quickly, perhaps even summon a local Auror out of fear. His heart couldn’t take it. “We should just visit the cemetery. It’s far enough outside of town that we shouldn’t encounter others. I don’t want to… cause a commotion or involve you in a difficult situation.”

Kate studies him and accepts his suggestion. “I guess we’ll avoid the Floo network and apparate, then.” 

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence as they finish their meals. 

“Let me take care of the clean-up,” Sebastian offers, standing and gathering the plates.

“Thanks, dear. In that case, I’ll just be outside with the laundry.”

When Kate eventually returns, she finds Sebastian on the loveseat, engrossed in one of the books she had nicked for him from the Hogwarts library. Flicking her wrist to magically turn on the gramophone, she and Sebastian both smile as soft music begins to play. She continues on her way to the bedroom to fold the clothes and put them all away. 

“I’ll help you in a little while. I just want to finish this chapter,” he calls out.

Several minutes later, Sebastian enters the room and finds Kate a bit flustered. It was simple to put her laundry away, but she doesn’t know where to put any of his garments. Together, they conduct a magical extension charm to construct a closet, and Kate transfigures two wooden bowls into doors. He comes to a happy realization - this spell isn’t one that can be taken back, and she hadn’t had any second thoughts about creating the space for him.

Sebastian levitates his trunk into the bedroom, and little by little, everything gets placed in his brand-new closet. Some of his clothing has seen significant wear and tear, and Kate makes a mental note to try to mend some of the items when he is at work next week. 

Though he had previously warned Kate that he didn’t have much, she is still surprised to see that it was not necessary for Sebastian to magically extend it. The bulk of its contents were clothing; the rest, now, are miscellaneous items like his broom, razor, toiletries, a case filled with various potions, several dragonhide-bound journals, a quill and ink pot, and some old photographs, which Kate requests to view later. 

In the bathroom, Kate organizes the potions, adding them to her own store, organized by type. Some are new additions to her potions cabinet: his contraceptive potion, an invigoration draught, and a few antidotes for poisons and ailments. Kate is familiar with but has never seen such a large quantity of Wiggenweld potions, sleeping draughts, and Dreamless Sleep potions. She eyes them curiously as Sebastian enters the room. 

He immediately stiffens upon noticing what is left in his potions case and tries to distract her. “What shall we do for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll decide later,” she answers quickly, then studies his face as she asks, “Sebastian… do you typically not sleep well?”

The chestnut-haired man hesitates, not wanting to admit the truth - that he uses the potions as a crutch to avoid being plagued by insomnia, nightmares, and the phantoms of his past. “Well…”

“We’ve been sleeping together for almost a full week now, and I’ve never noticed you having any difficulties, so why do you have all of these draughts?” His eyes dart around, avoiding her gaze. “Seb… I need to know these things. We’re going to live together now. Someday, we’ll be married.” She takes his hand. “Please tell me. It’s alright. You can be vulnerable with me.”

Sebastian sighs in resignation. “You’re right... I should be honest with you. It’s just… difficult to talk about.” He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I struggle to sleep. I have frequent nightmares and night terrors. When I’m alone with my thoughts and can’t fall asleep, I can’t help but relive the past - all of my mistakes, what I experienced in Azkaban, what I’ve had to do for the Kelpies… It’s so hard to manage it all. The draughts are my way of… well, avoiding further misery. I… In truth, I- I rely on them heavily.”

Nodding solemnly, she considers her words carefully. “Anyone in your place might struggle, love. You and I… together, we are going to get you some help from a Mind Healer. Using sleeping potions so often isn’t…” She trails off, unsure of how to say what she means without offending him.

“I know it isn’t healthy,” he admits quietly. “But other than sleeping with you lately, nothing else works. At least my sleep is undisturbed when I take them. I have to be able to function during the day…” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly distressed and starting to panic. His voice becomes shaky, his words spilling out quickly. “Look, K- Kate… I- I understand if you think it’s t- too much to deal with. You don’t have to stay with me - you don’t-”

“Seb, sweetheart - no.” Kate brings his hand to her chest, slipping it under her blouse and placing it over her heart. “Do you feel that - my heartbeat?”

He nods shakily as his fingers tremble. He closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin.

Kate gazes into his eyes, speaking calmly and seriously. “My heart beats… for you, Sebastian. I’m here to stay. It’s not too much for me, I promise. We will get help for you. I just need you to be open to the help.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slowly start to relax, but his hand remains over her heart. “I’ll try,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll t- try to be open to help. For you. For us. I don’t want to keep living like this. I… really do want to get better.” 

She reaches up to caress his cheek. 

There is a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Being with you… already makes me feel safer, more at peace than I’ve felt in the past decade.” He inhales and exhales slowly as a calming mechanism. “I- I’ll do whatever it takes to get better.”

“I believe you. Just remember, I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me anything.”

The two of them return to the bedroom and finally move the trunk, still containing various miscellaneous items, inside the closet.

“Now, can you show me those pictures?” Kate asks eagerly, grinning. She settles herself on the bed, sitting up and clutching a pillow against her abdomen. 

“Sure,” he replies, opening the trunk once more to fish out the photographs. He holds them close to his chest, as though they are precious and fragile. Before revealing them to her, he explains, “When I got out of Azkaban, I accessed my parents’ old vault in Gringotts. There wasn’t much there - certainly no money or valuables. Just a few mementos that Solomon couldn’t sell. I found these portraits and some journals that had my parents’ research.” He lays the pictures on the bed upside down, and then goes back into the trunk to retrieve some of the books, also placing them on the bed.

“What exactly did they research?”

Sebastian smiles, exhaling through his nose as he sits down next to his girlfriend. “Just about everything. They were experts in their fields. My da taught Magical Theory at Hogwarts, and my mum taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. They both researched heavily - especially during summers. Before they died, my mum was studying…” He grabs one of the blue notebooks, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Well, her work is quite varied. Healing Muggle children from werewolf attacks, non-traditional teaching methods for nonverbal offensive and defensive spells, and… erm… the Unforgivable curses.” He pauses, clearing his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“So… your mum was also interested in the Dark Arts,” Kate notes.

“It was her job,” Sebastian quickly responds. “She had to know all about them. She… She and my da… they didn’t look at Dark magic as completely bad… just as regular magic is not always completely good.”

Kate nods, feeling as though she’s put him on defense. She tries to make up for it. “I suppose that is true.”

“My da traveled often for his research. He actually… believe it or not, studied reincarnation at one point in India. In fact…” Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “I should read his journals again, now that we know about our past lives. Perhaps I could pick up his research where he left off…” He trails off, looking thoughtful and determined, before continuing on. “My mum and da teamed up at times, too. They focused a lot on defensive magical theory and trying to find an engaging way to teach it to students. They also spent a good deal of effort… researching love as a form of magic in its purest form.” He smiles. “You know… they were… honestly, madly in love.”

Sebastian reaches over to the photographs and flips the first one over. Kate grins, her eyes scanning over every little detail. It’s clearly a portrait of his parents on their wedding day. Sebastian is the spitting image of his mother, who appears to have lots of freckles and soft curls. Her wedding gown is fashionable for the era; she wears a veil and carries a simple bouquet of roses and baby’s breath. His father has dark hair with a mustache and beard, and he holds and gazes at his wife in complete adoration. They look so cheerful.

“I remember how they would read together at night, holding hands,” Sebastian murmurs. “They’d whisper sweet words to each other, and much to my dismay as a young lad, they would kiss often. They supported each other fervently, and they loved working together. Our house in Aranshire was filled with books, and the cellar was their official workspace. Anne and I were told that if they were in the cellar, they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.”

Kate reaches out to touch Sebastian’s hand. “That’s so sweet. How did they meet?”

“At Hogwarts,” Sebastian answers with a grin. “They were academic rivals. My mum was in Ravenclaw, and my da was in Slytherin. They had classes together over the years, and they were always competing for top marks. Supposedly, it all changed when they were assigned to work on a yearlong project in Potions class their seventh year, and they realized how similar they actually were and became friends… and then, it turned into love. When they graduated, they got married straight away. Anne and I didn’t come along until quite some time later.”

“Do you think their Potions professor put them together as partners on purpose?” Kate giggles. “I feel like I would do something like that if I was a teacher… just to see what happens. The drama. But I can’t imagine Professor Sharp, for example, ever doing such a thing…”

Sebastian laughs at the thought. “No way would Sharp do that.”

“What was your mum’s name?” Kate asks.

“She was Selina Ware,” he replies. “She had a brother, but he died in his twenties in a work accident, so I never met him. The entire Ware family line - they all passed away before I was born. That’s why Anne and I were forced to live with Solomon, my da’s brother.” He looks into the distance, stony-faced.

“Hey. Let’s focus on the good.” Kate squeezes his hand. “Leave your uncle out of it. Don’t let the bastard weasel into your happy memories. I’ve heard enough about him to know I would have hated him.” 

Sebastian laughs out loud, surprised by her reaction, and he leans over to kiss her cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you.” 

The next picture is one of Anne and Sebastian as young children, likely around seven years old. Kate grins in delight as she sees their coordinated sailor-type outfits. Both of them look incredibly mischievous - Anne more so than her brother. She has a cheeky smile on her face and a slingshot in hand. Sebastian carries a book - no surprise there.

“Oh gods, you were adorable!” Kate coos. “Look - you were missing a tooth! And your hair was so curly…”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, my mum could never get my hair to behave. It was always out of control. Honestly, my hair’s always been like that. Now, I just keep it shorter, and it seems to be more manageable that way.”

Kate looks even closer at the photograph, examining the setting. “Where was this taken?”

“In front of our house in Aranshire,” Sebastian answers. 

“Seb… If our children are even half as cute as you were, I’ll never be able to say no to them,” Kate murmurs. “And Anne - what a beauty! And how interesting - her hair doesn’t look curly at all…”

“She took after our da,” Sebastian explains. “My mum never had a problem putting her hair into braids or other styles. It was always my hair that was the issue.”

“Did they put you and Anne in matching outfits all the time?” 

“No. They wanted us to have our own identities outside of being twins,” he says fondly. “We only matched when we were really young, when there was an occasion for it, like posing for a photograph.”

When they view the final portrait, Sebastian puts his arm around Kate. This is a family portrait, and Mr. and Mrs. Sallow appear to be more than a decade older than in their wedding photo. His mum wears her hair pulled back with a hat, and her outfit consists of a jacket, white blouse, and a matching skirt. Sebastian’s father wears a formal suit with many pieces. They stand behind the twins with their hands on their shoulders. Sebastian is wearing a collared shirt with a bow tie, suspenders, and breeches with tall stockings. He is grinning from ear to ear, showing all of his teeth. Anne is wearing a floral dress that flows just past her knees with a bow in her hair.

“How old were you here?” Kate queries, her focus fixed on all of the little details.

“Around ten years old. I remember this was taken shortly before they passed,” Sebastian recounts. “I remember that our parents were so excited for us to get our Hogwarts letters. It was practically all Anne and I ever wanted to discuss. They knew we were going to do so well in school.” His eyes soften. “Since they were professors, they were aware of the curriculum and had us read some of our textbooks in advance so that we could get as much out of our education as possible. I devoured those books - so did Anne. In fact, we sometimes fought over the textbooks. We also knew our way around Hogwarts because our parents would bring us there once in a while during summer.” 

After some time, Kate murmurs, “What a tragedy that such brilliant minds could be snuffed out by a gas leak from a lamp.”

“Yes,” he replies softly. “A silent killer. I… I wish there was something I could have done, but it was too late when Anne and I found them. If… If I had been close by, I might have heard it go silent…” He stops talking for a while, attempting to put aside his typical, go-to negative and unproductive thoughts. Focus on the good. “I… I guess for me, it’s a reminder that nothing is promised. We have to treasure all of the time we are given with our loved ones. And, Merlin, we spent so many happy years together in Aranshire. I miss them so much. All of them.” 

Kate pulls Sebastian close, kissing his hair. 

A sense of warmth and contentment fills Sebastian’s soul as she continues to study the photographs in depth. It’s been a long time since he allowed himself to really reminisce about family - at least, the positive aspects of his childhood. Seeing Kate so engaged and wanting to learn as much as she can about his mum, da, and Anne, a newfound appreciation grows within him. He relishes the moment, nuzzling into her chest as they bask in the comfort of each other’s presence. There is a profound tranquility in their connection - a sense of being understood and accepted completely. He knows their road ahead may not be easy, but he is more sure than ever before that they can overcome anything as long as they stand together.

“Do you… think they would have liked me?” Kate wonders quietly. “Or might they have envisioned someone very different for you?”

Sebastian considers her question for a moment and shifts, sitting up. “They would have loved you, Kate. You embody so many of the qualities my family valued deeply - intelligence, loyalty, an open mind… And your ability to see the best in me is… well, something truly special. They would have recognized your kindness and the way you uplift me. So… yes, I genuinely believe they would have approved of you wholeheartedly.”

Kate doesn’t respond right away, feeling a bit emotional. “I wish I could have known them.”

“I know,” he replies. “I wish you could have known them, too. They would have adored your joyful spirit and your warmth. But maybe… Maybe, in a way, they know you now. Every time we share memories and make new ones, perhaps they are with us.”

A tear slips out of Kate’s eye, despite her attempt to blink it away. “That’s… the best way to think of them, Seb. I’m sure you are right.” She finally places the portraits on the bed beside her. “We should frame these. They should be displayed in our home.”

“You’re right,” he murmurs. “They should be cherished, not locked away in my trunk.”

Kate’s eyes light up with an idea. “Let me pick out frames next week.” She looks into the depths of his eyes. “I know I will never really meet them, but it’s important to me that your family has a place here, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes are locked on her, a mixture of awe and gratitude in his expression. “Thank you, Kate. I… can’t fully put it into words, but it means the world to me that you care so deeply about honoring my family’s memory.” He places a soft kiss on her forehead.

“And we can add our own portraits someday,” she adds. “Did you know that a photographer just opened a shop in Hogsmeade?”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” he replies, his interest piqued. “Did you… have something in mind?”

Kate blushes a little. “I mean… I guess I thought it might be nice for us to pose for a portrait together.” She looks a little pensive - dreamy, even. “I might like to keep a picture of you in a locket, if I may be so bold.” 

Sebastian reaches out to tuck some hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and his smile genuine. “The thought of you keeping a photo of me in a locket… is incredibly endearing, my sun. I dare say I may like to keep a picture of you on me as well.”

“I’d like you to be near my heart always, so that I can feel your presence… especially when you’re on these dangerous missions,” she explains, lifting her hand to his cheek. “You have no idea how much I am going to worry about you.” 

“Trust me, I know your worry is genuine,” he acknowledges plainly. “And I can’t promise you that I’ll be completely safe - not with the nature of my work. But I will always do my best to come back to you in one piece. Carrying  your image with me will be a constant, heartening reminder of what I’m fighting for.”

“I just wish your work was not so dangerous. I wish… you had a choice.” She looks down for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering, before glancing back up at him again. “Sweetheart… we need to get you out of there.”

“I know, but it just isn’t that simple,” he replies, threading his fingers in hers. “The DMLE isn’t exactly keen on letting me walk away. I have a contract to honor, and they have leverage over me… because of my past.”

Kate nods solemnly. “But then… What can we do? How can we end this contract? There must be a way out that doesn’t involve you going back to Azkaban.”

“There are some possibilities,” he says quietly. “But none of them are pleasant. I don’t want to worry you any more than you already are. Just know… I’m exploring every avenue to earn my freedom.”

Staring at nothing in particular, she is silent for several moments. “I trust you, Bash. I know you’ll figure out a solution. The Kelpies must be brought to justice, and I am confident you’ll be the one to do it. You’re… cunning, resourceful, and determined - and I love you for it. You’ll succeed - I just know it.”

“I won’t lie to you, darling. It’s going to be a tough fight. But knowing of your unwavering support and faith in me gives me strength. I won’t give up. Our future together is too important.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” she genuinely inquires.

Sebastian’s heart swells with gratitude at her offer, but his countenance turns serious as he considers her question. “It’s important to me that you stay safe, first and foremost. Really, the most helpful thing you could do, Kate, is simply be here for me, provide a safe haven where I can feel comfort and solace. That alone means more to me than you can fathom.”

“Right,” she responds, looking aside and biting her lip. “I can do that. I just wish I could do more. I would do anything to help you, Seb. Truly.”

Sebastian gently takes hold of her chin, turning her face towards him once more. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Darling, you do more for me than you realize. You give me strength and resolve and hope. And I know you would do anything for me… That’s why I have to protect you.”

Kate leans in and kisses him again, lingering. “I want to protect you, too. You’re everything to me, my moon. It just isn’t fair - I wish I could free-”

She suddenly sits up, hearing a loud tapping coming from the kitchen. “Oh - it must be an owl with a letter.”

Sebastian lets out a small sigh, carefully untangling himself from her embrace. “Stay here, love. I’ll go check it out.”

He makes his way to the kitchen, where, indeed, an owl is perched just outside the window, hooting. After opening the window, he unties the letter from its foot and watches it fly away. The envelope is addressed to Kate. When he flips it over, a flicker of recognition comes across his face as he notices the seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

[rosewaterandivy]

fade away with you

summary: “And your heart, love, has such darkness / I feel it in the corners of the room” from De Selby (Part 2) - Hozier

w.c.: 1.6k

a/n: welp, this is a miniseries now, i guess. enjoy my inability to let something go.

previously | next

Two months go by with infrequent visits he could count on one hand.

Sequestered away in Hop’s cabin, patched up so as to be suitable for habitation, you kept to yourself; licking your wounds and wasting away the balmy summer days.

Much like volunteering at the high school, Steve and Robin took shifts in checking up on you. She’d ride her bike up the trodden paths of woods to the cabin, or get dropped off by a beemer bursting at the seams with cross-chattering teens on their way to Harrington’s.

You’d emerge with a shy wave as Robin clambered out of the car, crowing a greeting and following you inside. A gauzy dress hanging from your frame, the silhouette of your legs drawing his eyes downward in a slow arc, molten gold glinting in the twilight.

Turning back, with a smile quirking at your lips, a laugh tumbling from your mouth at something Robin had said. And if Steve let himself linger in the stolen moment, he could almost believe that there was a special look there reserved just for him.

Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

But not then.

On that fated summer’s day, Robin couldn’t make it to the cabin. The late summer rains muddying the trails and making it impossible to pass.

He was folding clothing donations when she’d brought it up.

“You should go and see her,” She murmured, dropping off a sandwich for his lunch break. One of the rare moments Robin extricated herself from Vickie.

“What, tonight?”

A nod, her head bobbing as a blush creeps up her cheeks. “I have an, uh, thing with Vic.”

He huffs a soft laugh, “Oh, a thing? With Vic you say?”

Robin cuffs him lightly on the arm. “Shaddup, ya dingus.” Her eyes cut back to the redhead across the gym, a smile pulling at her lips. “Besides, you haven’t been in a while.”

He rolls his eyes, “Only because I’m stuck playing chauffeur for you lot.”

She regards him momentarily, eyes flitting up and down in concern. “Really? Because lately it seems as if you’ve been avoiding her.”

Steve feels heat thrum through his chest, wills it pass, prays the flush won’t make it to his neck— a dead giveaway for Robin, who knows him like the back of her hand.

And it’s not that he’s been actively doing it, avoiding you. It just happened, he didn’t mean for it to become habit. But like so many things he hasn’t meant, Steve was slow to course correct. But maybe it wasn’t too late.

This is what he finds himself thinking as the soft summer rains begin to fall. He pulls the car into a patch of worn grass, steps out, and closes the door quietly. The world is oddly still— gone is the familiar clattering inside just before the wooden door creaks open.

In fact, it doesn’t open at all.

Steve is hesitant to approach. He doesn’t want to startle you, though his presence is hardly a surprise. Robin had called earlier to let you know the change of plans, or at least that’s what she’d said.

The storm begins in earnest and forces Steve to seek shelter on the porch. He raps his knuckles against the rough grain of the door, parts his lips to call your name, but the door creaks open on its own.

The cabin is dark and silent, save for the sound of rain tapping at the windowpanes. It’s eerie enough for goose bumps to prick along his skin. Steve steps in slowly, cursing himself for leaving the nail bat in the car, fingers jonesing for some kind of weapon. He loathes that his gut reaction is violence.

Dirty dishes piled in the sink, windows thrown open with drops of rain lashing in and dripping down the walls. A slight movement out of the corner of his eye, something beneath the lump of blankets on the sofa. He holds his breath, fight-or-flight hammering in his chest.

Your head pops out from underneath a blanket as you press your body into the cushions. Eyes blinking owlishly as you wake. Making out the vague shape of Steve from your kitchen, you still.

God. You’re beautiful. Skin glowing from days in the summer sun, a red pout pulled taut as your hand scrubs at your eyes. Hair kissed by the rain and breeze, slightly frizzy from an impromptu nap. You stretch languidly as a cat might, a bare leg kicking out from the blankets accompanied by a soft yawn.

“Steve?”

His name slips from your tongue so sweetly that it’s a blow to his chest. And this, this is why he stayed away because Steve knew the awful things he’d do for but a moment of your time. Recalls waking after that first terrible night, how he’d held you, how you’d let him, and felt himself spinning out of control.

A girl wrapped in cozy wool blankets, soft in the fading light.

A girl who was never his to begin with.

But damn if he didn’t want you to be.

“Did I know you were coming tonight?” You ask, eyes flitting to the overflowing kitchen sink and open windows.

“Rob called.”

“Hmm.”

You pull the blankets aside for him to sit; he doesn’t, taking a step closer instead. And it’s only now that Steve can place it— that the entire cabin smells like earth and salt, as if the wood had been flooded with tears and was just now drying out.

Have you eaten? Have you showered? Have you done anything?

He could ask any of those things, but what he ends up doing is allowing you to burrow deeper into the mountain of blankets. He rummages through the drawers and cabinets, finds a half-open bag of chips from god knows when - stale and stiff, and shoves a handful of it at you.

“Eat this, it’s the best we got.”

When your cheeks resembled that of a chipmunk’s and the sadness had somewhat gone from your eyes, Steve sat back arms crossed at the edge of the couch and huffed. A beat of silence, and then two as you chew and swallow. You laugh dryly and cradle your head in both your hands.

Your body slumps against the sofa cushions, “I’m so fucked Steve.”

Steve didn’t know what you meant, not really. But then again, everyone was all engaged with their private griefs, but none so much as you.

It took him all of two minutes to piece it together, the open window despite the rain, an overturned empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. The depression cave made sense, he knew you missed Eddie—

Sobs wrack your crumpled frame, fingernails digging into your scalp that came away pricked in red as he peeled them away.

“I’m pregnant.”

Two months gone, to be exact.

Time seemed to slow in that moment, Steve’s hand staying yours from clawing at your skin, wrestling your arms to keep you from hurting yourself, wrapping his legs over yours, and holding you tight.

It didn’t take a genius to put it together.

The loose-limbed ease of both you and Eddie that past spring, touches that maybe bordered on less friendly and more laden with intent, shy glances exchanged when you thought no one was looking.

But when it came to you, Steve was always looking.

A wet laugh falls from your mouth, “What’s a fuck between friends at the end of the world?”

Steve presses his chin to the top of your head, grips your waist, the warmth of his chest against your back, and rocks you to and fro.

“It’ll be okay. I got you. I’m here with you, whatever you need.”

There was a storm the night you told him. There was another the night the boy arrived.

Nine months you carried him inside of you, hating yourself and hating the world. Long nights of stifled tears missing Eddie like a phantom limb.

Joyce, Hop, and Wayne came to the cabin. Steve wasn’t sure if you could be bothered to leave. You were more than happy to die in labor, apparently. Had said as much with a grin. Joyce twisted her face in a grimace and Steve stood at her side, mouth set in a firm line, and told you to shut the fuck up.

No one was dying today, at least if he could help it.

At that you let loose the first genuine laugh he’d heard in months. Had to cover your face with both hands since you couldn’t seem to stop and when you pulled them away, Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

You were positively radiant. And he thought the glow some women get while pregnant must’ve been doubly true for you.

The baby came with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.

And Steve had seen some shit in his time. Had known carnage, blood, and viscera. But the birth was so horrific that when you paled with the loss, he swore that if you got what you desired, he’d die right along with you. Joyce yelled at him to get the water, the towels, the bucket and needle. Wash the boy, wrap him, look alive Harrington!

The swaddle thrust into his arms was softer than snow, wetter than the lashing rain outside, red sluiced with blood. Two eyes gleamed from the bundle in his arms and even though people say newborns are beautiful, Steve could only see a crimson angry thing, tearing the life from you and staring back at him with a curious expression.

A world away, beyond the woods, and the shuttered gates, Eddie Munson’s eyes fluttered open once more.

“Welcome back,” A low voice purrs from a far-off corner of his mind, “Kas.”

[vaultlinkvt]

This is the first proper thing I've drawn in ages (and first are I think I've posted in over 5 years?) I just needed to draw the opening to Act 5 and my reaction to it.

Nothing has gripped me in such a way and forced me to finish an art piece like this in so fucking long. I see far too much of myself in him. I just want them to be ok after this is all over. STARS, this is just Asriel all over again isn't it. But WORSE!/pos

…I guess that could make this vent adjacent? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I also made a shitpost edit that I posted separately here.

There are so many things covered by each other and I just need to share and talk about them. Bonus details and rambles under the cut.

Siffrin's expression was like the first thing I drew and if it didn't turn out as good as it did I probably wouldn't have spent almost 10 days slowly adding to this and I just need to show it because his hands/arms end up covering most of their face.

Nothing much else to say about him, I'm just super happy with how everything about him turned out (I did have to go back and redraw some of his hair towards the end because the line thickness wasn't consistent with everything I drew after.

Next is ME yippeeeee. I have no idea why I spent so long adding details even tho I knew alot of it would get covered by Sif 'cause of how I was posing this.

I even designed a little button based on the Change Ornament + Star (the Change Belief and Lost Belief in The Universe really spoke to me in so many ways)

The gloves are an Archery Glove on the right hand and a Drawing/Writing Glove on the left.

The cloak is based on the style of cloak my mom made for my family for SCA events when I was young. It's just a simple hooded cloak but it has a slit in each side so you can stick your hands threw without needing to open up the cloak. I imagine it being stylized like, the opening doesn't exist until you stick your hands threw and then it can just freely glide around the face of the cloak to wherever it's needed, stopping at the elbow only letting threw the forearm, below the slit beginning to hang off the elbow with gravity while the part above begins to move with the upper arm.

I didn't even try to draw the outfit under the cloak because dealing with the folds of a thick wool cloak was enough for me (you can see how I gave up at the knees because I KNEW Sif was gonna cover them up). What I imagine the outfit being is this big baggy tunic and pants that are tied down at the forearms/calves to keep from getting in the way, it's also supposed to have a big baggy turtleneck thing that can be pulled up as a(nother) hood (iirc, this sorta thing was used so someone could wear a chainmail hood without it grabbing your hair(there ware also like stand alone cloth hoods that did the same thing too but eh, my memory is bad I might just be misremembering this)) but I couldn't figure out the folds and ended up just doing a simple button up thing (which then got covered by Sif's big head anyway.)

I spent soooo long trying to draw my eyes, trying to figure out the shape, and ended up just doing a bunch of small tests to the side before finding one that actually looked right. Drag it over the face and see that it fit EXACTLY, didn't even need to redraw it or anything.... unless you're talking about the other eye in which case I just duplicated it, flipped, and did some perspective warping until it looked ok because I could NOT draw that again especially at a different perspective (can I just say I have no idea how I drew that creepy eye but I love it, it was the first eye I drew and I just threw 4 lines down what the fuck how. Also the Mira-ish one looks cute too but didn't fit the expression.) I also needed to figure out what the hell was wrong with the expression I had before so you get 2 faces from me figuring that out (turns out I had the eyebrows facing the wrong way.)

I ALMOST FUCKING FORGOT MY FRECKLES TOO AAAAAAAAA (they're actually missing from the version I posted in the official ISaT server.) It was super weird trying to add them at the obscenely low resolution I was drawing at and they're probably gonna get compressed to hell and back but I think they're cute.

final thing.

Why is my hair so similar to Sif's but longer? Like, you can see I was sketching over my drawing of him to make sure I'd keep the proportions right when I started working on myself but in the process I realized that I was basically drawing over his hair but longer for mine (drawing I was using as ref here made by @leemak)

Add that to the uncomfortably long list of things I have in common with Siffrin I guess.

[rising-volteccers]

So I was inspired by @cocosnowlo-drawings latest piece about Friede and Cap being partners in all circumstances. It wouldn't leave my head so I wrote out a short piece where Friede's reckless and it's from Cap's POV cause I thought it'd be a fun challenge haha!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Captain Pikachu

--

“Cap!”

Regardless of the pain coursing through his small body, the sheer horror of seeing Friede jumping after him off the cliff stole all the air out of his little lungs. 

“No!” Cap cried when he saw his human dashing after him just seconds prior. “Don’t do it!”

Except Friede couldn’t verbally understand him, because he was human. Not did that stop them from sharing a deep, special bond mind you. It was just at this moment, seeing Friede reaching out for him during free fall that Cap wished his human took heed of his words.

Desperate fingers grabbed hold of his own outstretched paw. Cap immediately felt arms wrapped around him, tucking his form against a solid chest just seconds before impact. 

Cap didn’t know whose cry was louder; his or Friede’s. They rolled and tumbled, scraped against rocks and other sharp bits. Throughout this terrifying experience, his human never once let go of him, and Cap clung to his shirt with his eyes squeezed shut until at long last, they came to a stop. 

Several beats passed in silence. Cap felt disoriented, finding that flicking his right ear and trying to move his tail caused a lot of pain. Still, panic drowned out the pain when the arms around him loosened. Cap scrambled to sit up properly so he could get a good look at Friede.

Friede’s eyes were closed, and it was from being on his chest that let Cap knew he still breathed. The lens of his goggles were cracked. His favorite jacket had tears in them. Cap spotted scrapes on his cheeks and his hands, with more likely hidden beneath his clothes. What he hated seeing the most was the red liquid trailing down the side of his face, originating from somewhere beneath his goggles.

He was still. Cap hated seeing him still. Friede wasn’t meant to be still. 

Cap carefully crawled up his chest to gently place a paw on his uninjured cheek. He lightly patted it.

“Wake up,” he said. 

“Pika,” it sounded within the silent clearing. 

Cap fought to keep his fear in place when Friede didn’t react. He couldn’t let it pull at his electricity, making static build up in his cheeks. He’d long since evolved from that Pichu who couldn’t control the power he held within but at this moment, he felt that kind of little again. 

“Please wake up,” he pleaded, patting Friede’s cheek again.

“Pika pika,” was what stirred Friede at last. Cap pulled back at the soft groan, giving his human some room to reorient himself. Judging from the sharp hiss of pain when he shifted, he didn’t get out of the fall unscathed. 

“Ugh… Cap? ‘zzat you?” Friede mumbled, blinking a couple of times. He raised a careful hand to gently cradle his head. 

“Yes! Why did you do that? That was stupid!” Cap grumbled back.

To Friede, he only heard high pitched, aggravated squeaks. A chuckle turned wince slipped past his lips. Carefully, he tried to push himself into a sitting position. Cap watched worryingly as his arms shook but he managed enough to lean against the rocky wall for support. 

“I’m guessing that you’re mad at me, huh?”

“Yes! You didn’t have to do that!” Cap responded, crossing his arms whilst sporting a displeased look on his face. “You had my Pokeball on you! You could have returned me!”

Friede stared at him with faint amusement in his eyes. Despite the worry still brimming beneath his fur, Cap was almost tempted to shock him for finding this situation anywhere remotely humorous. 

“Sorry Cap. My body just moved on its own,” Friede eventually apologized. It seemed that he understood why from the rapid squeaks. He did look a touch remorseful now. “Sorry too for worrying you like this. You’re not too badly hurt, yeah?”

Cap wanted to keep his glare but his resolve folded once Friede lightly place a hand on his head, mindful of his injured ear. The weight brought more comfort than he realized, even more so when Friede scratched him at the particular spot that he liked. 

“I’m glad that you’re alright,” he spoke, voice soft. “I don’t know what I’d do if you…”

“How do you think I feel? We’re partners but you’re hurt,” Cap replied back, pressing his head more into his palm. 

Another faint chuckle in response to the train of soft Pika… from Cap. “Yeah, I messed up big time. I know that Mollie’s gonna have my hide for this. Think she’ll give you a pass at least.”

Cap nodded his agreement at that. Friede deserved it really. Did he forget that Cap had done a lot of falling before they met? Granted the only damage he got was recoil from Volt Tackle but the point still stood! Friede didn’t have to jump after him like that! It was stupid and reckless and…

It did stir warmth in his little heart. To know that his human cared as deeply as he does for him.

“Aww, not even pretending to disagree. I’m wounded,” Friede joked, doing that chuckle turned wince again. Cap hoped that they’d get rescued soon so he can get that treated. In the meantime, he settled keeping watch of the surroundings, ready to fire off warning shots to any wild Pokemon that dared to approach them.

Eventually, Cap picked up the sound of Charizard’s flapping wings and calls for Friede’s name. While it pained him to do so, he managed to shoot up a single Thunderbolt as a signal to their position. 

Soon, Cap stepped aside to let Mollie and Orla fuss over his human. They had arrived on Charizard and Metagross, who both asked him whether he was alright. Cap simply gave a thumbs up in response.

It was much later that the pair were all patched up back on the ship. Friede had bandages all over him while Cap had some on his tail and ear. As expected, Mollie gave his human an earful for his reckless behavior while Cap received gentle care and worry. He wasn’t surprised seeing that he rarely got hurt badly enough to get all bandaged up like this.

They were now back in Friede’s room. Both of them were ordered to take it easy for a few days so their injuries had time to heal. Cap knew that it was only a matter of time before both of them get a little stir crazy from the forced inactivity but until then, he was happy to be all curled up by Friede’s side as he slumbered, exhausted from today’s events.

[michellemisfit]

So I’ve had a pencil piece sketched out for May @shamelesscreatorsnetwork for… well, pretty much the entire month! And every time I decided to work on it I found 200 things that needed to be done first (clean my room, tidy my desk, organise my art materials, sharpen all my pencils, hoover, cook, do laundry…), and whenever I did actually sit down I would get all my pencils ready, all my reference pictures, the sketch… and then I’d look at it for a while, before putting it away again, promising that *tomorrow*. It’s late now, anyway. And the light is fading. And someone is going to interrupt me soon because it’s dinner time, so starting isn’t really worth it… but tomorrow! Tomorrow I will totally work on it.

So I built up this anxiety, over this drawing. The sketch is good! I really really like it. I think y’all will like it. …but what if I screw it up? And also, what do I even want to do with it? Like, full detail pencil? Coloured pencil? Cartoon-y felt tip pen? If I can’t decide then I’m definitely gonna screw it up, right? Right??

So that’s the anxiety spiral that’s been going on in my head over this drawing.

Today started off just like that. I had 3 hours before the next thing on my schedule. And I decided I was going to finally do it! And then I went and had breakfast, cause breakfast is important. And then I tidied away all my other art materials, because our holidays are over soon, and I need to start packing. And I put on laundry. And I folded some clothes.

And then I just refused to continue this… stupid game of chicken I was playing with myself. I took photographs of the sketch as it was, and if I’m gonna fuck it up, then so be it. I can just post the sketch. Or do something digital with it. Or, hell, I can redraw it from the sketch. I can do whatever, because anything is better than what my brain is currently doing to me.

So I put pencil to paper, and I started shading. And you know what? It’s going to be just fine…

Turns out I haven’t forgotten how to use a pencil.

And I want to beat myself up for it because ‘oh my god I could have been done with this weeks ago if I wasn’t being so bloody stupid about it’… but no. I refuse. Shit in my brain went weird. That’s true. And I did always know that I hadn’t actually over night lost the ability to draw. But that doesn’t make the anxiety I was having less real. And acknowledging that is important, because I’m not often good at being kind to myself. I’m trying. Just like with the drawing, it’s one step at a time, right?

I guess I just… wanted to share that.

~EDIT: It is done

[thecollectionsof]

Soulmates au 12 + crygi

Crystal’s journal appears on her bed three days after she turned 23. 

She sees it out of the corner of her eye, at first—just a glimpse of purple hiding inconspicuously under a pile of clothes she’s been putting off folding. She doesn’t know what it is at first—nobody tells you that, nobody tells you that it just finds itself hidden in your things like it’s always been there. But there it is.

She flips it open with gentle, almost reverent fingers, not knowing what it held. Has her soulmate found theirs already? Have they written in it? It can’t have been too long, she only did her laundry a few days ago, but what if her soulmate was mad at her for not finding it until now?

There are words on the first page, a neat script written in pen taking up the first few lines. 

Hi, I’m your soulmate I guess! I’m excited to hear from you!

Her heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest, the words etching themselves into her mind. Her soulmate! Her soulmate wants to talk to her!

There’s more, a line down. 

I’m not sure when you’ll find yours, I guess. I’m Gigi, by the way, it reads, a heart drawn next to the words. 

Crystal scrambles for a pen.

My name is Crystal! she writes, then takes a moment to think. How do you introduce yourself to your soulmate, anyway? She’s spent countless hours dreaming and fantasizing of times spent talking about everything, sharing love notes and funny thoughts, but never how to start. I’m glad you’re a girl, like I knew I was gay but I was still scared I’d get some guy named Jared or something. 

She regrets it immediately, but she thinks scribbling it out would make a bad first impression, so she doesn’t. The page remains the same even after she watches it for a reply for a few seconds, and she doesn’t know whether she’s glad about that or not. She doesn’t feel like she’s done but she doesn’t know what else to say, so she takes out a pack of colored pens (she was currently writing in orange) and doodles herself (and her cat, for good measure). It’s not perfect but she makes it colorful, hoping that Gigi would like it.

She really, really hopes that Gigi will like it. That she’ll like her.

Gigi doesn’t respond, not yet at least. Crystal doesn’t want to admit how long she spent watching the page, then scrolling on her phone and only glancing at it every few minutes. (Four hours by her count, each minute dragging on until she can hear more from her soulmate.)

Crystal!

Crystal’s usually fruitless glance shows the neat script written in the blank space under Crystal's portrait. The way she writes her name, the exclamation point, and the sheer excitement of seeing more of Gigi makes her shoot up from the slump she had fallen into as she waited.

I’m also glad. I’d hate a Jared, you’re much better. She signs it with another heart. Crystal scrambles for her pen, knocking it off her desk in her haste, but when she picks it up she finds that Gigi wasn’t done. Is this you? Do you have a cat?

There’s a space, and then she went down one line. You’re cute, Crystal. :)

Crystal watches, mystified, as the space on the next page is slowly filled with thin lines and an elegant figure that starts to take form. It’s slow but she can’t look away—Gigi’s drawing herself and Crystal wants to watch everything about it. 

The figure is thin, almost like a fashion illustration, and the pen strokes are measured as she perfects the outline, streaks of hair framing a narrow face with some kind of dress taking shape on the page. She feels almost giddy as she watches. This is her soulmate! This is Gigi!

This is me. I hope, Gigi starts writing, then she crosses it out swiftly, and replaces it with a smiley face.

Crystal scrambles for her pen. So pretty!  she assures, and then underlines it, trying to show Gigi how much she means it. 

So is yours!

I’m so sorry but I’m at work and that was my break and I have to go right now but

There’s a pause as Gigi hesitates, and Crystal watches the page carefully for the rest of the sentence.

but will you be here in a couple hours? I really want to get to know you.

Crystal finds herself nodding quickly, before remembering to put her pen to the page. 

Yeah! Of course!!! I’ll be here :) Have a good day at work!

Great see you then!!!!

Crystal sits back and closes her notebook with a sigh. She met her soulmate! And she wants to talk to her! And get to know her! She doesn’t know what to do with herself for the rest of the day, knowing that she’d just be distracted by the purple notebook no matter what she did. She just wants to learn more about Gigi, but she’ll have to wait.

But it doesn’t mean she can’t talk about her. She opens her phone in record time, hitting call on the first saved number before she even has time to think about it. “Daya, you won’t believe what I just found.”

[arrow-guy]

Within the Ashes (3/??)

Summary: You’ve spent your life working for someone else. You watch their back, you protect them, but you’re left feeling empty and unfulfilled at the end of the day. What happens when a freak accident transports you to a different dimension, very nearly identical to your own?

A/N: Okay, it’s been a Rough couple of weeks, so i haven’t been able to post this, but hopefully the content of this chapter will make up for that lmao. Nothing traumatic happening this chapter, only friendship and vibes. Please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing(s): StevexReader, background Spideytorch

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Part 2

“You think she’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Steve says. “At the very least, she thinks she’s telling the truth.”

“Of course she does. But everyone’s truth is different.”

“Right.” Steve asks, “Have you contacted Strange?”

“I did. He should be dropping in some time next week.”

“Okay, good. He should be able to give some insight on where she might’ve come from.”

“Provided she’s from a different reality.” Steve nods. “(Y/N) mentioned that there might be a version of her in our reality, so I looked into it.”

“And?”

“And there’s no (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) anywhere that I can find. Never has been. So, unless this person is currently in utero, they don’t exist.”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) could be an alias.”

“Oh I checked. No mention of the name anywhere. TV, movies, books. Nothing.”

“Huh.”

“Mhm.” Tony leans back in his chair. “Really gets my hopes up for proof of alternate realities. Not that I’d want to bounce from one reality to another. Just for the sake of it being true.”

“I get it.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Not today.” Steve frowns. “She’s different. Weirdly easy to talk to.”

“Really? She seemed guarded to me.”

“She opened up a little after you left. I get the feeling that she’s used to a society that’s far more different from ours than we initially would’ve guessed.”

“If it weren’t different, the reality wouldn’t be an alternate one. It’d be a one for one copy.”

“I understand that, I just mean that it sounds like people with powers are significantly more common where she’s from than they are here.”

“Sounds like you want to know more.”

“Don’t you?”

Tony shrugs. “Of course. But you’re the one who thinks she’s so easy to talk to.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Tony looks him over. “You untied her, right?”

“She said she might accidentally break the bed railing.” Steve folds his arms. “It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

“No need to get defensive.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not defensive.”

“No.” Tony smirks. “Not at all.”

“Tony.”

“You’re allowed to take an interest, Cap. She’s interesting. And if her version of Richards was capable of figuring out interdimensional travel, then I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to bring her home. Whether or not he'll figure it out before I do, I don’t know. But we should learn as much as we can from her while she’s still here.”

“Okay.”

Steve abruptly rises from his chair and heads for the hallway.

Startled, Tony asks, “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna have lunch with her.”

“Really?”

“You’re the one who said we should learn as much as we can from her while she’s here. Easiest way to get her to talk is to have a meal with her.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yup.”

Steve’s gone before Tony can say anything else.

"Maybe I should stop teasing him." He shrugs. "Probably won't, though."

"You sure you should be walking around like that?"

(Y/N) smiles and turns to where Captain Rogers stands in the doorway. "I'm wearing clothes, aren't I?"

“I just meant that you haven’t been conscious for very long. You might not be very steady on your feet.”

“I’m a little wobbly, but I’m no newborn deer,” she says. “I appreciate the concern, though.”

“Just take things slow, okay?”

“Sure.” She sits on the hospital bed and draws her legs up onto the mattress as she pushes up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “What’s up?”

“Thought you might be hungry.” He holds up a large, brown paper bag as he approaches (Y/N)’s  bedside.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” He drags over a table and pulls out to-go containers from the bag. “I figured we could talk after.”

“Okay.” She pulls her food closer and laughs. “Ah yes, chicken, kale, and wild rice. The exact meal someone with your physique would choose.”

Rogers takes it as the joke it was meant to be and laughs. “Oh yeah, nothing but dry chicken breast, steamed rice, and broccoli for me.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “I’ll never understand how anyone can eat like that.”

“Can’t say I understand it myself. And I imagine it doesn’t taste like much.”

“What’s the point then?” She pokes at her chicken thigh before cutting it up. “Like I get that food, at the bare minimum, is supposed to fuel your body. But you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to torture under the guise of being quote unquote “healthy”, when it’s not even all that healthy in the first place.”

“From what I understand, they’re more focused on the aesthetics of their body than enjoying their food.”

“Life’s too short to not eat good food,” (Y/N) mumbles around a bite of food.

“I agree.” He squints at her food and tries not to laugh. “Did you mix everything together?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just something I hadn’t thought to do.”

“Hm, that’s fair. My boss’ kids are in a phase where they want to try anything you’re eating and the only way to avoid sharing is to make whatever it is look as gross as possible. The fastest way to do that is to just mash n’ mix everything together.” She pauses. “I swear I don’t spend a weird amount of time with my employer’s children. I live in their building so they’re usually just around.”

Amused, Steve says, “Okay.”

“That just sounds weirder.”

“No, I’m just surprised your boss has kids. You said he’s a superhero?”

“Right. The whole family’s in the business, actually.”

“Interesting.”

“What, are heroes not allowed to have kids in this universe?”

“No, it’s just incredibly uncommon.”

“Huh. Well I mean, it’s not common where I’m from. I’d say there are more kids who are superheroes than heroes with kids.”

“Really?”

“Older heroes do what they can to make sure they stay out of the big trouble and that they’re prepared when it can’t be avoided, obviously. I mean, they’re kids. They grew up watching the Avengers and the Fantastic Four and the X-Men take on villain after villain. It’s pretty hard to stop them when they’re determined to follow in their idol’s footsteps.”

Rogers hums. “I know a kid like that.”

“So do I.” (Y/N) smiles fondly. “He’s working on a doctorate right now, though, so I guess he’s not really a kid anymore? If anything, he’s kind of a mentor at this point.”

“Someone you work with?”

“No, actually, I work with his boyfriend. My parents were close with his aunt and uncle, so we practically grew up together. He started dating Johnny, Johnny begged me to take the job with Reed, and now I’m here.” She sighs and stabs at her food. “He’s probably blaming himself right now.”

“People in my line of work tend to do that.”

“I know. I’ve watched it happen more times than I can count.”

“That’s not surprising.” Rogers leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “Does the uh… Fantastic Four work with your reality’s Avengers much?”

“Mm, not much. They occasionally team up, but Peter’s usually the one who gets dragged into whatever drama they have with their villain of the week.”

“Peter?” Rogers sets his meal to the side. “Peter Parker?”

Warily, (Y/N) says, “Yes.”

“As in Spider-man Peter Parker?”

Her brows draw together. “How would you know that?”

“He’s been working with us on the side for the last couple years.” He shakes his head. “As far as I know, he’s graduating high school this year.”

“That’s so odd.”

“So he’s your family friend?”

“Yeah, we met during the holidays after he lost his parents.” She frowns. “He’s really still in high school?”

“He is.”

“I guess things would be different in an alternate universe,” she mutters. “He’s an Avenger?”

“Not quite. It’s more like he’s Tony’s intern.”

“Huh.” Before she shovels a bite into her mouth she says, “Well that’s interesting.”

“How so?”

(Y/N) takes her time answering while she chews. “I don’t think my Peter would ever want to work with Stark. Doesn’t really seem like his scene. Though, I don’t think he’d really want to work with my boss, but I’m pretty sure that’s just because he’s a shitty boss.”

“What kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“I lug things hither and thither and make sure Reed doesn’t get hurt by his… I’ll say more explosive projects.”

Rogers frowns. “That sounds incredibly dangerous.”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Like I said, Captain, I’m just the muscle.”

“And you don’t do any field work?”

She shakes her head. “No, I ruled that out a long time ago. Too many late nights spent patching up my best friend.”

“Peter came to you for medical attention?”

“He wasn’t friends with the Avengers. Couldn’t call Tony Stark and politely ask to use his medical specialists and supplies.” She pauses for a moment, realizing how hostile she sounded. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad your Peter has those resources. But mine had to make every mistake for himself and break far too many bones without that support.”

“But he had you,” he says after a long pause. “And having someone who cares about where you are and whether or not you're hurt is more important than having big names backing you up.”

The corner of (Y/N) mouth quirks up. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Rogers tilts his chin up. “I am, actually. I got into a lot of fights when I was younger. I didn’t have the money to keep myself healthy, I just had my best friend who did his best to keep me out of trouble.”

“You do seem like the kind of guy who would’ve gotten into a lot of fights as a kid.”

“You didn’t even know me then!”

“Well, no, but I know enough about the version of you from my reality to match up what they taught about him in school with what I’ve learned about you, specifically, and piece together something resembling what you were like pre-serum.”

She watches Rogers fight back a smile. "Does a lab assistant job require strong deduction skills?"

"No, but when you've been blown up as much as I have, you learn to read people and situations quickly."

“You’ve been blown up?”

“Oh yeah. Reed doesn’t really think much of it because I heal so quickly.” She shrugs and stabs at her food. “Still hurts, though.”

“How long have you been working for this guy?”

“About eight years.”

“Wh-eight years?” She nods. “And you haven’t quit?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it. Threatened to in the middle of the last experiment, and probably would’ve followed through had I not been blown up and shot into a different reality.” Rogers shakes his head. “Look, again, I appreciate your concern, but it’s not like you can really do much about it.”

“Sometimes having more than one person upset on your behalf does something.”

“What?”

“Shows you that things should be different.” He holds up one hand. “I’m not saying that you don’t already know that, but knowing on your own can feel a bit like shouting into an echo chamber.”

“I…” She frowns and her shoulders sag. “You’re right.”

“That little extra support counts for something.”

“It does.” (Y/N) bites the inside of her cheek. “Thank you, Captain Rogers. I think I really needed that.”

“It’s no problem,” he says. “You know you call me Steve, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Feels a little wrong.”

“Why?”

“Well… because you’re you. You’re Captain America. And I’m just some random civilian.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You have intimate knowledge of superheroes. You have powers. Civilian, maybe, but not random.” She opens her mouth to protest further, but he says, “Besides, I’m not in the military anymore. Don’t even work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. So I’m technically a civilian too.”

“Still feels wrong.”

“Well I’d prefer it if you used my first name. The only time someone calls me Captain is when I’m in trouble with government officials.”

(Y/N) laughs. “You, in trouble with the law? Never.”

“More often than I’d like.”

“I’m sure they’ll get tired of harassing you eventually.”

“Not sure they will. Seems like a sport to them sometimes.”

“Yeah, I think that’s just a universal thing between governments and superheroes. They hate heroes until they don’t have them. Either way, everything that goes wrong is their fault.” She jabs at the last few pieces of chicken in her dish. “I’m not bitter about it at all, by the way.”

Rogers-Steve laughs. “It’d be hard not to be. I’m sure everyone on my team has a few choice words for the men breathing down our necks right now.”

“But you can’t say anything because they’d use it against you.” He nods. “Yeah, fun times.”

“Would you want to meet the rest of the team?”

Surprised, she asks, “Would they want to meet me?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Natasha's asked about your progress as you've healed.” He smiles at the look of shock on (Y/N)s face. "Honestly, I'm a little surprised no one's dropped in to talk to you yet."

Her mouth hangs open as she tries to find her words. All she can come up with is, "Really?"

"Yes, really. I thought you were supposed to know all about the Avengers," he teases.

"I never said that. All I have is publicly available information. It's not like I know what the literal Black Widow does with her time."

Steve smiles. "So you're up for meeting them?"

"Hell yeah I am." He cocks one eyebrow and (Y/N) laughs. “Sorry, too eager, I know.”

“No, I’d say you’re at a normal level. Honestly, we’ve had adults be a little too excited to meet members of the team.”

“Not surprising. I’ve had my fair share of weird encounters even being Fantastic Four adjacent.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm. I could tell you some crazy stories.”

"Could you, now?"

"I could." She shoots him a sly smile. "You want me to?"

--------

Part 4

I love love love writing the parts where everyone’s becoming friends, and I particularly like it with this fic. The dynamic that’s building between the Reader character and Steve has so much banter and it’s so much fun.

As always, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! Do you think Steve eats like a fitness nut? Do you think the Reader’s relationship with the Fantastic Four might change because of how she’s treated in this reality? What do you think will happen when the Reader meets the rest of the avengers? Be sure to reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

Tag List:

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This Fic:

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