#i spent all night last night bedazzling it

[loveheartslouis]

I hate it when the shitty thing you're using to save money/be eco friendly is actually shitty

[slocumjoe]

Previous relationships

Excluding Curie and X6, as I don't HC them as having experience.

Cait; The other woman's name was Power, a caravan mercenary. She was gruffer than Cait, but quieter. Older, too. Power had been around longer than a lot of fucking people in their circles, but still had the wild-eyed frenzy of youth burning in her almost black eyes. Cait liked her because Power made her feel safe. Power was big and mean and didn't let anyone fuck with Cait, not even Tommy. Even Tommy was on his best behavior when Power was around. Power said she just saw a young woman still figuring herself out. Power said she'd be back one day, with money and guns and she'd take Cait with her. She joined the Minutemen. Only one Minuteman survived Quincy. Power joined the Gunners. She didn't forget Cait, but it was a dog eat dog world. Cait would have to feed herself.

Danse; When he was still a Knight, shortly after Cutler's death, he did everything he could to not look like the mess he truly was. He socialized like anyone else, hid his drinking, spent his few caps on makeup to cover his eye bags and worsening health. Anything to look normal, to look like other young men his age. What they did, often, was talk to civilian ladies and go talk in private. There was one lady in a town he'd been stationed in for a few months. She came up to Danse, first. Her name was Eliza. All they did was talk. She told him all of her secrets, her drunk mother, dead father, little brother she cared for, the bar she worked at, her mishaps in the kitchen. He told her about how he felt like nothing without the Brotherhood, the emptiness behind his armor. He babysat Henry a few times while he was off the clock. Eliza held his hand many nights. He left thinking of marriage, of fatherhood. He still thinks of her freckled hands.

Deacon; Before Barb, there were a few. Sasha sticks out to him. She had bright green hair that was always thinning and falling out, fake teeth she'd made from mongrols, and a knife bedazzled with pink jewels. Deacon saw her across the town and all but ran after her, desperate to know what kind of mechanisms made that clock tick. She was fun incarnate. Sasha had a good spirit about everything, and told Deacon that to really make it in this world, you had to be happy being a fuck-ass loser no one would understand. He broke up with her when he found out she was involved in chem rings with raiders, but it was on good terms. He didn't want to deal with that life, she gave him a hug and told him to live as quietly as he found fun. He thinks very fondly of her. Last he heard, she was a ghoul in Goodneighbor with her own beauty salon.

Gage; By all accounts, Robert was not Gage's type. Unfortunately, Gage has a type, and that type is Fucking Awful. Robert was a rich brahmin baron from a big city who was clean, spoke nicely, dressed nicer, and looked like he walked off one of those old world billboards. That's what he looked like. But he wouldn't have met Gage if he wasn't as black as soot underneath all those shiny bits. Robert had a taste for free labor. Gage's gang at the time was more than willing to help him find it. Occasionally, he paid them to escort him to business deals, be hired muscle. Robert liked Gage immediately, found him smarter and funnier. Took him aside for drinks. Said he'd look good, if he could eat more and put some meat on his bones. Robert kept them hired for years, just to buy Gage steak dinners, just to fuck him once he filled out. Gage liked the meals, but out of all of his partners, would rank Robert as one of the most unsettling people he's ever met.

Hancock; He never got her name, but she was blonde, short, had a foul mouth, and fished off the river for money. He watched her wrestle a mutant fish-thing and fell in love. They had so much public sex, Hancock paid someone to try and figure out how many Boston locals had seen his dick and/or her tits. His name for her was Netty, because she wore fishnets and....well. She fished. With nets. He wrote her poems, she told him to shut up and get between her legs. Netty kept him off chems for a while because she could taste them on his breath and despised the taste. Eventually, Netty told him, naked and beneath the moonlight, that she was going to this old war fishing Hotspot, some place the Americans called Maine. He got a letter months later with fish bones and a lipstick stain, telling him she was getting married to an Atom cultist and asked if he wanted a boat ride up for a threesome. Hancock sent her a letter back, politely declining but wishing her a happy marriage.

MacCready; In Goodneighbor, he occasionally shared a drink with a cute guy named Peter. He was a Triggerman, but had a scrappy charm, nice teeth, and looked good in the suspenders. They hooked up here and there, but mostly they'd just make Kent come out of the Memory Den and talk about comics in the sunlight, playing cards on a bench and debating who was a hotter Mistress of Mystery, or if a certain comic run was good or not. Peter was sweet, and Mac really liked him, both as a friend and as a potential step dad. Peter liked kids, and wanted to meet Duncan. Eventually, Peter fucked up on a job, and the Triggermen didn't kill him, but ran him out of town. MacCready heard he was up in Bunker Hill last, and still occasionally thinks about rekindling that friendship. He knows Kent took the loss real hard.

Nick; Despite his hang ups with his current body, a man's desires are not so easily swayed. Nick has a type. That type walked into Diamond City with a sway in the hips, a cig on his lips, and a well-kept mustache. He was a cattle rustler, a cowboy for local farms. His name was Derek. He heard about Nick and came to see the metal man for himself. Derek was quick to say he didn't look bad at all, no, he was rather easy to look at. Said his eyes reminded him of the orangest part of a sunset. Nick weighed his options, if he was truly willing to drop his pants for someone he met 10 minutes ago. He said no. Derek stuck around and quickly proved to be a good guy. Nick dropped his pants the second proposition. For a farmhand, Derek knew his way around robots. Nick blames it on too many years since his last horizontal-tango, but still heats up when he thinks about the encounter.

Piper; Fell for a male stripper in Goodneighbor and still questions her sanity. She was ovulating, okay? And he was kind, and was patient when she fumbled with her caps and told her she was just fine, and played with her hair while he sat by her, and...Piper has a soft spot. That soft spot is hot people who just stare at her and smile while she embarasses herself. He was ghoul, his name was Garret and he smelled like expired floral perfume, but God damn it, Piper likes expired floral perfume. They were mostly just fuck buddies, but Piper genuinely thought he was fucking hilarious. He was a pre-war pastor and a lot to say on the matter, though his opinions pickled over the years. Garret sends her letters about hot gossip or useful info regularly.

Preston; met a dominatrix for pay. Preston is not a very sexual person. He doesn't have a lot of libido. Queenie liked that, a lot. She liked being able to just talk and talk, and not have to worry about sex at the end of it. Preston thought she was fascinating, having met so many people through her work and seen such weird sides of them. You brought up any topic, Queenie had a story for it. And she was killer at tailoring and sewing, so she patched up his gear while she rambled about how one of her clients got married, again, and how his new wife tried to kill her, and how she had to fend her off with a sack of potatoes. She was constantly flustered and baffled, once her work-mask slipped off, and her turns of phase were hilarious. Once the Minutemen get rebuilt, Preston got a letter, telling him she'd become a professional tailor, now, asking if the new General needed someone who knew her way around the uniform.

[voidstilesplease]

First Lines

Rules:

Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

Thank you @amatchinwater for the tag! :)

“Patrick, your boy toy’s here!” - sanctuary, patrivan (elite)

All Patrick wants is to start the term with a little bit of thrill because God knows there's zero of that at home. - friends don't look at friends this way, patrivan (elite)

“Has anyone seen –" Rocio craned her neck, sweeping her gaze across the club of party-goers as she spoke. - i guess you're in london today, patrivan (elite)

Patrick heard him coming before he saw him. - our roads are gonna cross again, patrivan (elite)

The tale of how Theo left didn’t start the last night they spent together – with that last bite to the neck, that farewell fuck, that confession that ended with Theo using his thrall to send Stiles away. - bedazzled, steo (teen wolf)

“I had a vision.” - philtatos, sterek (teen wolf)

My dearest, Theodore, - field of asphodel, steo (teen wolf)

Gally wakes up thinking about killzone. - caught up in dreams (of you), thomally (the maze runner)

Stiles can't believe his luck. - can't believe his luck, steo (teen wolf)

Theo hated Beacon Hills; everyone in it, everything it represented. - today, the purple special, steo (teen wolf)

Tagging: @lilacsandorangeblossoms, @its-tea-time-darling, @dearifievenknew, @go-catch-a-chickn, @cescalr, @sunel0, @theheightofdishonor (if you still write fics?), @mercheswan, and @thominho-incorrectquotes if you guys are interested! :)

[dejwritesarchived]

𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐓. chapter two ( &. toji fushiguro x black!female reader — warnings: mentions of sex, sex work,gore, profanity, violence. yakuza au )

➣ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the first task is assigned to [y/n] on yakuza night when she's working a shift at the strip club she works with.

➣ tags: — @ihateliyah @galaxanessus @ceeriusly-dumb @stephanythedramaqueen @maydayaisha @littlemochi @babe-im-bi @ggoldensalmomroe @todo7roki

[ playlist + series tag + previous ]

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤2 dejwrites. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

YOU SAT IN THE DRESSING ROOM OF THE CLUB bored out your mind. It was a slow night, and tonight, most of the men weren't your typical regular customers. Tonight was yakuza night, and some men in the many yakuza in Japan were here tonight to have fun, play poker, drink, smoke, and be around pretty women. As you spent walking around the floor trying to flirt with some men to get some money, no one even dared to look in your direction. Two hours into your shift, you gave up walking into the back to be on your phone and possibly take a nap while the other girls were warming up the gangsters.

As you stared into the mirror, applying another coat of the thick clear lip gloss, you would hear your co-worker Kira yell from the door of the dressing room. "You have a visitor in private room 5."

You let out a sigh, probably just a gangsta too embarrassed to get a lap dance from a black woman. You stood up, glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time before you left the room. The bedazzled cotton candy pink colored push-up bra helped your boobs sit perfectly for men to stare. The matching bedazzled thong you wore, obviously men broke their neck to stare at your bare ass.

You would walk towards the private rooms, each one you passed. You could hear the faint moans behind the closed doors. It wasn't allowed to sleep with customers, but with the right price, their boss Kiko would make it happen if she wanted to (and if the dancer wanted to). The customer gave a price, received a private room number, and Kiko made sure the cameras were off in that room. You didn't particularly agree with it because it could have put the dancers in danger, but according to Kiko, it was to put trust into the clients. After all, some of the men and women who stepped into this place were married, city officials, government officials, gangsters, and the list goes on. Any evidence of them being in attendance in the club could ruin their lives. You have gotten mind-blowing offers of money just for men to sleep with you, but you always declined. You preferred the fantasy of a man giving you all their money but never being able even to get a taste of you.

When you made it to room five, you would grab the complimentary bottle of champagne and some glasses. Opening the door, you didn't see an unknown gangsta waiting for you to shake your ass in his face, but you saw Toji. He sat in the chair, his hands placed behind his back as if he was waiting for you.

You placed the champagne and glasses on the coffee table that was in the corner of the room. You forgot that he was such a well know boss in the yakuza. Of course, he would be here. But to purposely ask for a private room. It wasn't like him at all. Before you even knew of Toji, and he was just the customer that gave you the biggest tip for the night, Kiko took notice of this and offered Toji a free private dance with you. The dark-haired man always seemed to decline the offer. He once told Kiko if he was to receive a lap dance from you, it would be out on the main floor and not behind closed doors simply because he wanted other men to know that you were his favorite in the club.

"Where have you been? Gojo been on the floor looking for you?" Toji questioned, his eyes staring your body up and down. It was as if he was examining a piece of ancient artwork in a museum.

"I was in the dressing room. It's a slow night for me." You said out loud. You would walk towards him. Your hands placed on his thighs, caressing them slowly as you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Continuing talking, Kiko watches the tapes to make sure we're working. She can't hear us though, too cheap to get security cameras with audio." You stepped back, plopping on his lap.

It took him by shock as he relaxed in his seat, letting you grind against him slowly. Toji's teeth grind against his lower lip before he begins to speak, "I have a task for you." He said he felt his pants tighten in the crotch area. You hardly were putting any effort in the lap dance, but you could feel his bulge in the nicely tailored black pants he wore tonight.

You smirked, leaning back into him, him getting a whiff of your sweet scent, "What do I have to do?" You questioned.

"You're going to give this guy a lap dance and steal something from him," Toji said.

"What? How the hell am I going to do that? It's cameras, and the cameras aren't requested to be off unless the man wants to have sex." You said, but you sooner stopped standing up, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm not doing anything sexual, Toji."

He grabbed hold of your hand, pulling you back into his lap to continue the lap dance. "You won't. This guy doesn't know how to handle his alcohol. We have been keeping an eye on his alcohol intake. He usually passes out on his 5th drink," he said. "You do your regular job, butter him up, give him his final drink, and then boom. He's out." Toji explained. "You'll be in and out before you know it."

You felt your body somewhat relax, feeling Toji's fingertips traveling across your waist just inches away from the thin pink thong.

"Nanami will be outside the room just in case anything goes wrong and for you to give him what we need," Toji said. "I will make sure he doesn't hurt you." He then adds.

You would let out a sigh before nodding, "Okay."

You stood up, finishing off the glass of champagne that you poured. "Is he already in the room?" You questioned, and Toji just nod.

You would let out a nervous sigh before going towards the door, "You should handle that also," you motioned to his obvious boner.

"If you come back soon, you can." Toji bluntly said.

"In your dreams Fushiguro," you said as you left the room. You walked further down the hall after grabbing another bottle of champagne and a bucket of ice. But this time, you didn't put ice in the bucket. It was utterly pointless if you weren't going to be in that room long. You stopped seeing a man standing outside, his face buried into his phone. When he saw you, he fixed the glasses he wore before speaking, "You're looking for a little black book. It'll have a bunch of numbers and names in them." He whispered.

You would nod at him and push open the door. When you walked in, you respectfully bowed at the man. Placing the champagne on the table, you instantly poured two glasses. You were glancing up above you to see if the cameras were off, and they were. You could feel your stomach turn into knots as you turned to face the man. It was a man around your age. He was already slurring his words. He really couldn't handle his alcohol. You would pick up a glass of champagne and begin to dance. With your free hand caressing your body seductively, the man stared at you in his drunken state as if he was in love. As you turned around to let the man get a perfect view of your ass, you would sooner sit on his lap. Your hips were moving in a circular motion as you grind against him. His hands went to grab hold of your waist, but you pushed his hand away, "Not until you finish this." You held up the glass.

You could hear him drunkenly chuckle before snatching the glass out of your hand. He finished the drink with swiftness. You could feel his wet kisses on your back, causing you to scrunch up your face in disgust. "I'm about to show you the best night ever. I have never been with a black foreigner before." His words trailed off, slurring bit by bit.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you felt a significant weight on your back. He was out. You would lean back, causing him to sit back also, you stood up, and your hands begin searching. As you opened his suit jacket, you explored the jacket. Your hands were feeling on the thick book inside the pockets. Pulling it out slowly from his coat, you flipped through the book seeing numbers and names. You would fix the guy's jacket and then walk over to the bucket meant for ice. You dropped the book in the bucket, taking the other glass of champagne. You dumped half of it on your torso and legs. You would leave the room and see that Nanami was still there, but some other men and dancers were in the hall. Most likely finishing off the steamy session in the rooms.

"Urgh! That asshole couldn't even handle his alcohol. He fucking puked on me!" You yelled out loud. Nanami would stare in confusion as you shoved the bucket in his hand. "He fucking passed out before I could do anything," you yelled as you would walk down the hall, gaining stares due to your outburst, purposely knocking stuff down in your fake tantrum.

As you walked out of the section where the private rooms were,  Kiko seemed to be dashing at you to stop your outburst. "[Y/N], how about you call it a night? You're disturbing other dancers and clients." She said through gritted teeth.

You rolled your eyes, "One of these assholes puked on me. A real man knows how to handle his alcohol!" You yelled before twirling around towards the dressing room.

When you peeked through the doors to make sure it was empty. You quickly wiped the champagne off of you and slide on some sweatpants and a tank top. You stuffed your things into your purse before exiting the dressing room. You would say your farewells to passing dancers and leave the club. You weren't the best actress, but it was something just to make your story believable.

When you finally inhaled the crisp Japan air, you could feel the adrenaline hit you. You stole something from another yakuza member. You had to get away from here. You would walk down the street trying to process everything that happened. Hopefully, what you grabbed was the thing they needed. It was the only thing in his pockets other than his wallet and car keys. As you were walking, you felt a car pull up to you. When you saw the tinted windows rolled down, you saw Nanami.

"Get in." He said.

You would do as you were told, climbing into the car and buckling your seatbelt. The car ride was as quiet as a mouse. He wasn't as talkative as the other two you saw. You assumed that Nanami probably was letting you process what just happened. To him, it wasn't new when someone new connected to the yakuza had to do something out of their comfort zone. You noticed that you two had passed the turn towards your house.

"Where we're going?" You asked, your head leaning against the window.

"Toji's."

You were quiet, not knowing what to say as you just sat back enjoying the ride. "Was that the right book?" You questioned.

"Yes," Nanami answered,

"Okay." You said, at least you did the right thing and it didn't go bad.

"You know, you'll get used to doing bad things. Toji assigned me to kill a man in Germany for my first task," He said to you.

"I know, but it just feels like I'm in a weird-ass dream. Didn't expect to use my sex appeal to steal from dangerous men," You said out loud letting out a sigh.

Nanami was quiet. His fingers were on the steering wheel as he stopped at a red light, the two of them were just five minutes away from Toji's gated mansion. He summoned everyone to be there after the task was complete. Nanami being the last one of course, due to him waiting for you.

"It was quite dumb for them to have such an important book at a club. Then make the one that can't handle alcohol hold on to it." You said.

"Exactly, since we're sure he's not even going to remember even getting a dance with you. Considering no one knew he was getting a lap dance. Then it's no camera proof. They'll most likely assume he lost it." Nanami explained. "Which will come with a punishment."

You once again felt those knots returning in your stomach. You didn't expect your actions of stealing something that wasn't yours could lead to someone else being hurt. However, Nanami did tell you that you'll get used to doing bad things. It wasn't particular to you, but you had to do what would clear up your debt. "What's in this book anyway?" You questioned

"Toji will explain it to you," Nanami answered. He would roll down his window, typing in the four-digit code for the gate. He, Geto, and Gojo were the only ones that knew the code to the gate. Everyone else had to be buzzed in. When Nanami pulled into the gated area, your eyes lit up seeing the beautiful mansion.

Nanami parked the car. He grabbed the book, and you only followed him like a clueless puppy. Your bag is on your shoulder as you wait outside the door. The loud doorbell could be heard as the door flung open, seeing Gojo. He would give the two of you a huge smile. "Nanami! [Y/N]" lunging forward to hug you, Nanami stepped out of the way.

"Don't touch me." He said as he pushed himself through the doorway with the book.

Gojo rolled his eyes, his arms snaking around your shoulder as he led you into Toji's house. "You smell like champagne," he said, looking down at you.

"Yeah, I know." You said, "You think he'll let me shower here?" You asked.

"It's Toji. He'll let you do anything," Gojo answered as he led you further into the house.

Your eyes were taking in the high-rise mansion. The conscientious colonial-styled mansion was stunning. You had to mentally admit that the man had style when it came to decorating the place. Gojo would disconnect from you to plop down into the charcoal-colored couch in the living room. You took it upon yourself to find Toji since he wasn't in the living room with the others. You would walk upstairs, searching. As you stopped at what seemed to be a baby's room, Toji was leaned over the crib tucking the baby in.

When he saw you at the door frame, he gave you a small smile. Grabbing hold of the little white baby monitor device, he would shut the door just a little so no one won't wake up Megumi. "See, you got the task done." He said.

"I did, but can I please take a shower. I smell like alcohol, and the guy drooled on my back," You said, staring at the man. You noticed that he had taken off the tie he once wore tonight, and his white button-down shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest. You couldn't help but stare, which those actions gave Toji an ego stroke.

"Megumi puked on my shirt." He said as he would motion for you to follow him. You would follow behind him, "You can settle in this room. I have been preparing it for days. It has its own bathroom, walk-in closet..." Toji explained.

"Excuse me?" You questioned, your eyebrows raised in confusion.

"You didn't think I was going to let you back into living in that apartment of yours, did you?" He questioned.

"I mean, yeah."

"[Y/N], consider yourself an unofficial member of my branch. We have to monitor you closely," he said. "A lot of men in this branch still don't trust you, despite you about to be the reason we're going to be expanding our cash flow beyond Japan." He explained.

"Do I have a say in this?" You asked.

"No, but I would love to hear your feedback."

"Am I the only one that lives here?" You questioned, "as in an unofficial member," you did air quotes.

"Currently, yes. This is my residency. Sometimes when Gojo is too drunk to drive home, he'll crash here also." Toji explained.

"What about my stuff at my place?" You questioned.

"I'll send someone to pack it up and move it here. It's no big deal. I'll even buy you brand new stuff if you want." Toji said.

"Why does it feel like I'm never going to pay you back if you keep doing this?" You questioned, your arms crossed over your chest.

"Believe me. You're paying me back. Now go shower, get some rest; it's food downstairs. You did a good job tonight."

"Yes, sir!" You said as you stood at attention and saluted him.

He chuckles, "Please don't call me that unless you want me to drag you in my bedroom."

"Please, don't tease me like that." You say as a finger poked at his shoulder. You turned around to go towards your room. You could feel the man staring at you as you walked away.

You were officially intertwined in yakuza duties. It felt so unreal, but as you stripped out of your clothes, you knew that this was only the start of it.

A start of a dangerous lifestyle with Toji Fushiguro.

[ahtsumu]

how the haikyuu boys fall in love

oikawa falls in love like a tsunami’s last breath. the first time he realises he loves you, he thinks the earth beneath his feet has fractured. terrified, he recedes from your life, pulls back from your outstretched hands, withdraws from your longing gaze, hoping that his feelings will, too. instead, they surge forward with a roar, swell to monstrous heights, foaming viciously at the crest. and soon, the colossal wave collapses against the shore, unable to fight any longer. when his words finally flood out, that roar of the tsunami arrives in the end as a whisper–– “i love you.” and everything is washed anew.

iwaizumi falls in love like a tree branch under snow. his feelings accumulate crystal by crystal: a touch here, a smile there, a picture at 2 am followed by “i saw this and thought of you” and a reply of “go to sleep, idiot” seconds later. you worm your way into his heart so slowly he doesn’t notice it at first, doesn’t notice the thick layer of snow on the caving wooden limb, doesn’t notice that one more fleeting brush against his fingers will tip the scale–– until the branch finally snaps. and when he opens his eyes to a world bedazzled by snow, the only face he can see is yours.

kuroo falls in love like honey on pancakes. with him, there’s no sudden realisation, no flashbulb moment of his adoration, because he’s been happily fixed in a golden state of mind ever since the day you met. every day, his name sounds sweeter out your mouth. every day, he wakes up with sugar on his lips. it’s slow, how his love for you grows, but it’s steady. and now, as you kiss every knuckle on his hand to pull him back down to earth, he can only let out a soft, amused exhale through his nose. his half-lidded gaze focuses on your decadent features. “i’m here,” he purrs. 

kenma falls in love like eyelids after dark. very rarely do the gears in his head stop spinning; he’s lived his entire life on alert, taking in and apart details to survive. but with you… there’s no need to take in and apart the way your lips feel against his, the scent of your hair in his nose, your shallow breath against his neck. it all feels so safe. with you, he’s home–– he can finally rest. so even when light drains out from the sky, even when the world is at its worst, at the feeling of your body curling up to his, the gears in his head grind to a halt. and he lets his heart beat instead.

bokuto falls in love like a fledgeling from its nest. he knows it’s reckless––  ridiculously reckless–– to have so much faith in wings not yet fully formed, but there’s something about you that makes him want to soar. maybe it’s that you remind him of a cloudless blue sky or a valley that stretches from both ends of the earth or an ocean that glitters beneath the sun. maybe it’s that your name is a call to adventure. and at that moment, he realises that birds don’t fly when they’re ready–– they fly when they’re called to. so he steps to the edge, spreads his arms out, and leaps, your name a prayer on his lips.

akaashi falls in love like silence between friends. it comes over him naturally, instinctively, right as he thinks that he could do nothing next to you forever and still be satisfied. the feeling wraps his shoulders like a blanket and, with a twitch of his lips, he pulls it closer around himself. his eyes dart over to your figure, wondering if you know–– if you’d known this whole time. and then when you catch his gaze, when you ask “like what you see?” with a smirk on your face, he feels the fabric stretch around his shoulders as if to fit a second body. his reply comes to him like second nature, like instinct. “no, i love it.”

atsumu falls in love like skydiving from a plane. he’s meticulous, guarded, the most untrusting of fate. so he fights to gain the upper hand: he picks his parachute, his pilot, the day with the best weather–– everything is in his control. and when you come in full view, he finally thinks the dropzone is perfect. only then does he throw all caution to the wind, diving head first, eyes closed all the way down. an awesome wave of euphoria washes over him, lasting even when he realises he’s landed right in your arms, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, pupils wild with excitement. he wants to freefall into you again. so he does.

osamu falls in love like night over the city. it’s as inevitable as the cycle of the sun and moon and when it happens, he’s still the same–– yet everything is different. beside you, he feels the air change and all else fade into the background. beside you, the hum of the world turns into a steady beat, a pulse awfully similar to the one in his chest. and he flickers to life, a mosaic of light, when you touch him. he doesn’t usually look like this, you think as you draw circles on the back of his hand, trying to pinpoint what about him has changed. smiling softly, he knows that you’ll figure it out soon. or... he could say it now.

kita falls in love like a seed into the ground. he doesn’t feel it when it’s sowed, nor when it takes root beneath the soil, but he sure feels when it sprouts. its stem crawls around his legs and up his trunk, keeping him safely fixed to earth. it grows with every “good morning” and “i’ll save you a seat”, it grows when you prance over with a joke on your lips and two coffees in your hands. it grows when he sees you with your eyes closed, head tilted towards the sky like a sunflower, and realises that you are all he’s ever wanted. your head turns. your eyes meet. and as spring does with the cherry trees, he blooms.

ushijima falls in love like a comet past the sun. as he hurtles by, your radiance melts his icy exterior into the glimmering cloud in his wake. every inch of his body is on fire. he feels the power in the pull of your orbit. feels you could utterly ruin him. feels he’d be okay with it, too. but you don’t. instead, he thinks himself made of anti-gravity as you trace constellations into his skin. he sees stars collide when you kiss. and when he remembers how a comet can spend thousands of years without passing the sun in its orbit, he looks at you asleep in his arms and holds you just a little tighter to his chest.

tendou falls in love like confetti on new year’s eve. this moment has spent all year in the making. ten, from the day you pummelled into his life. nine, the time that slowed when he saw you smile. eight, when you changed each other’s names in your phones. seven, that time he dragged you out to a party. six, how you retaliated by taking him to a play. five, your shoulders touch during said play. four, his fingers wrap around yours during the finale. three, you hold hands all the way home. two, he walks you to the door. one, you stop. zero, he leans in. and the world explodes in full colour.

kageyama falls in love like a fawn upright for the first time. it’s all new–– the butterflies in his stomach, the sluggishness of his tongue in his mouth, the short-circuiting of his brain when you’re around. he stumbles and trips and topples over navigating through the tingling in his body. “are you okay?” you ask, peering into his eyes. his cheeks burn as he nods, unable to form words. he thinks he’ll be fine, though, until you place a hand on his shoulder. the touch sends another flood of electricity through his nerves. “you sure? you look like you’re about to hurl.” and he resolves that he will do something about this.

tsukishima falls in love like a chest in resignation. he didn’t believe in softer emotions–– or at least, that’s what he told himself. and he held out for so long. but then you came along with your dumb sparkly eyes and your stupid smart mouth and infuriatingly sweet smile. even with the argument still fresh on his mind, he still adores you to death. especially right now, as he struggles to breathe knowing that he might lose you. fine, he thinks, no more running. he picks up his phone and sends the message that’s been sitting in his notes. and finally, he lets out a sigh. you win. he’s never been happier to lose.

sakusa falls in love like the last leaf before winter. just as a tree holds onto its foliage for dear life, he is stubborn in refusing to fall. still, even he is powerless against nature. as autumn goes, winter arrives in your form. he thinks you are the strangest cold–– the kind that soothes instead of stings, the kind that kindles fires and bakes chocolate chip cookies, the kind that turns his cheeks red without a touch but with a smile. but he likes it. so when winter knocks at his door and asks if he’s “ready to go?” he, the last leaf on the tree, finally flutters down to the ground.

[erenscumprincess]

Attack on Pu$$y

♡ Pairing: Eren x Y/N reader

♡ Summary: A family trip to visit your boyfriend's home country goes terribly wrong when unwanted guests show up at your parent's hotel. With Eren already being on your dad's bad side, it's up to you two and to save your parents, your vacation, and your relationship.

♡ Genre: Comedy and lots of smut

♡ Warnings: Mentions of sex

♡ Word Count: 11.29k

                         ━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

                                                         『1』

“Omg! Where's my shower cap?” you screamed, frantically tossing out all the clothes you carefully packed the night before from your suitcase. “This can't be happening,” you promptly pulled open the drawers from your nearly empty dresser and began flinging everything onto the chair beside you. Not like you’d be able to find what you were looking for under the mess you just created.  “I just spent $350 on this brazilian body wave, I need that shower cap!”

“It's on top of that big ass head,” the smug idiot you sometimes referred to as Eren, gestured to the pink sequined article that he bought for you on your last trip to the beauty supply. He was leaning forward in his chair, sweatpants hanging low, hair in a messy bun, dreary green eyes laser focused on the game he was playing with Jean and Armin. “Fuck,” he cursed, “Yo, Imma need some back up,” he shouted into his headset. 

You slowly turned around to face the mirror on your disheveled vanity, Wow, not one of your strongest moments, you thought, gingerly, removing the shower cap. Your long curls cascaded down your shoulders, what usually were bright and dolled up eyes were now rimmed with day old eye liner and lashes that were threatening to pop off. You had to admit, you did look a little rough at the moment, but even now you still remain the baddest bitch in the city, and that's on periodt. 

“Okay, where's my switch then?” you sighed, and tossed the showercap into the suitcase, rearranging all of the clothes back into it again, “You know, the pink bedazzled one?”

“Carry-on,” he responded, motioning to the backpack in front of the door, “Why are you acting like such a bimbo today?” 

Pause, did this boy just try me?  “Why are you acting like such a-,” you hesitated, trying to come up with a good comeback. 

“Exactly,” you could practically see the smirk that you heard in his deep voice.

A couple years ago, you would have never expected you’d be dating this jerk. He was the star player in  your school's basketball team, a literal god on the court, and you were just his tutor to get his grades up so he could stay on said team. But you know, one thing led to another and here you were, still dealing with his trifling ass. You grabbed the carry on and tossed all of your luggage in one place. 

“You know what, I'm gonna pack my vibrator.” “What?” Eren pulled back one side of his headphones to free his ear, his brows furrowed. 

“What?” 

“You tripping,” Eren just rolled his eyes and went back to playing on your brother's PS5, the sounds of aggressive clicking of the controller echoed through the room.

“Nah, you’re tripping if you think you’re getting any action on this trip,” you glanced around the room one last time to double check if anything was left unpacked, “not with the way you’ve been talking to me lately.”

“Babygirl, stop playing, you know you can't resist this,” Eren tossed his headset and controller on to your bed, apparently done with his match. He stood up, towering at an alarming 6’2 above you, he leaned down, inches from your face, the chain that his father gave to him as a parting gift brushing against your skin. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, flashing that handsome grin of his, “let me make it up to you.”

You took in a deep breath, taking in the scent that was Eren, a combination of mint, mahogany, and was that weed? You slowly slid your hands down his chest to rest upon his toned hard abs, admiring the start of the v line that was poking out. This man could never keep a shirt on, but you weren’t complaining, “No,” you poked his waist, ignoring what was growing in his sweatpants, “we got a flight to catch.”

Ever since Eren invited you on a trip to visit his home country, Paradis, things have been pretty crazy, to say the least. You guys have been dating for a cute year and a half and he wanted to show you a different side of him. 

“I can make it quick.”

“Don't you always,” you laugh, slapping his arm. 

He catches it and you find yourself pinned against the wall, your back against his chest. You could feel his hard on pressing against your leggings, his face leaned into the crook of your neck, “Do you feel that?” You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. Two large hands gripped the sides of your hips, beckoning for you to move. 

“Boy, stop!” you giggled, unintentionally curling into him,  no but seriously, he's about to make me act up.  You hated how you couldn’t stand to be mad at him for too long. You let out a shaky breath at the tingly sensation that was starting to pool up in your stomach, flashbacks from previous hookups whirred through your mind like a broken cassette tape. 

“Hey! What’s taking yall so long?” a familiar voice shouted from outside your bedroom door, “We were supposed to leave hours ago!”

“And YOU weren’t even supposed to come!” You fired back. And he really wasn’t supposed to join. No one in your family was supposed to come. But your dad demanded it, if Eren still wanted to be with you. It took some convincing, but Eren finally caved into letting you bring your family, and you use the term "caved" very loosely.

“You think Imma letchu go to some foreign country with this hooligan actin’ fool!”

“Dad, they probably fucking,” another voice added, “And did you know Eren doesn’t like to wear condoms. Ah shit, I’m probably gonna be an uncle.”

You sighed, suppressing the urge to snap at your dad and annoying ass brother for Eren’s sake. 

“Fuckin’?” You heard your dad gasp, “Oh hell nah, open this muthafuckin’ door right now!” 

How the hell were you going to spend a whole two weeks with these idiots, you groaned at the thought. 

“Your dad has no chill,” Eren laughed as he reluctantly dropped your arm allowing you to turn around to face him.

“I am so sorry,” you whisper, listening for the sounds of your father’s footsteps walking away. You  gently brush away the stray wisps of hair from his messy bun out of his long lashes before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. 

“So…” he paused, securing an arm around your waist, there's a mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice his gaze travelling from your face, to your chest, down to your thighs.

“So…” you repeated, bashful eyes of yours met his.

“Wanna try road head?”

[bibblelevi]

Sar ‼️‼️‼️

TW: BREEDING KINK (Not really tw but Levi is riiiich)

RICH Levi buying the most expensive vibrator he could find then taking it to his jeweler to get it bedazzled with pink diamonds all for you.

“Pink!? Those are rare levi, and expensive!!”

“It looks pretty on your clit so I could care less”

RICH Levi giving you money for your nails just so when you come home he can watch your pretty fingers play with your clit

“Would you look at that pretty girl, they match cunt”

RICH Levi getting agitated when you try to shotgun him at a dinner party. Him grabbing your hand away from his crotch then pulling it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles to play it off. He’d then whisper something to you before innocently kissing your temple.

“You're not coming tonight”

RICH Levi has your ovulation and menstrual dates memorized and fucked you almost every day of the week, coming inside every time. He always thought you’d look gorgeous pregnant with his child, so he made sure to really knock you up this time 😀

“That's it sweetheart, milk my fucking cock”

“Let me give you that baby that you want”

••••

cw: anal play, toys, orgasm denial, brief ice play

I READ THIS AT WORK EARLIER AND IT FUCKING BROKE ME OKAY 😭😭

Rich ass Levi spoiling his stupid little girl by buying her all kinds of expensive toys that he shows her how to use properly. Keeps her ass nice and full with a jeweled plug while he simultaneously drags the pink vibrator over her sweet pussy. Presses his thumb against the base of the plug and shoves the bulbous head to your swollen clit just to watch the tears gather along your waterlines.

And the “You’re not coming tonight” shit oh my FUCKING GOD. He’s such a fucking asshole sometimes. You think that maybe you can convince him later that night if you’re otherwise on your best behavior and beg him perfectly, but you’re whimpering in disappointment when he’s running an ice cube over your swollen, twitching clit, murmuring something about how “You need to fucking cool down” because there’s come dripping out of you and he’s spent probably the last hour or two edging you to heaving sobs.

You wake up, panties soaked through, but don’t think that’s he’s going to give it to you right away. Levi has other shit to do in the morning. He brews his tea, showers, reads the paper, sometimes heads to work early if required. But before he leaves today, and sees that longing look in your eyes, he’s pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I want you ready for me when I come home tonight,” he whispers. “Touch yourself all you’d like, but you better fucking ask first, and most of all”—he tucks a coil of hair behind your ear, purring in a low voice—“you aren’t allowed to come. That’s for me. Not you. Nod if you understand.”

You nod, biting down on your lip when he spares you a few rubs through your wet panties.

Another kiss is pressed to your brow bone. “Good girl.”

God, and that’s when he comes home later and fucks his sweet, dripping girl into the mattress. Fills her up with his come while her folds are painted with her slit. Overstimulates that throbbing bud with his favorite vibe. Tosses you around and spanks you and gropes you however he pleases, panting about how good you are.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

[loupettes]

hello pal, I would love to know more about 6?? where she finds her old bedroom. (you've repeated the numbers 6 & 7 in your list, do you have 21 wips??)

bloody hell, you're right 😂😂😂 god, what a bloody twit.

Any more for any more?

6. A short missing scene where Rose finds her old bedroom on the TARDIS before the Doctor drops her back off on the parallel world. The Doctor finds her, and they have that moment we all wanted them to have but we never got 😭

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” he admitted. “Never could face coming back in.”

Her eyes only seemed to amplify her sadness, and she quickly turned to look away from him. Her fingers touched her lamp, and trailed down to the book on her nightstand.

He remembered it, of course, that morning. The last morning he was in here. She had read him an extract of that daft book while she lay against his chest and he could feel her there now, as she always was, right in the space above his hearts.

For the first time, he looked away from her. The room was silent, heavy and full of memories he couldn’t bear to acknowledge. All the hours he spent in this room, all the hours he fell in love with her over and over again in this corner of the TARDIS and here he was again, falling in love with her once more, only so much deeper, knowing that he was about to lose her again.

7. Their first night together on the parallel world, Rose wants to take it slow. She’s confused, hurt, and needs some headspace. Tentoo can’t sleep and makes himself a cup of tea in the quiet hours of the night, but runs into Jackie. Spoiler: Jackie’s need to mother and take care of him hasn’t disappeared after all those years. Jackie/Ten(too) feels abound!

“No, Rose, it’s fine. Go ahead,” he encouraged, and was relieved to know she still had enough trust in him to take him at his word. So she reached out again, but touched her fingers to his cheek this time, gliding them slowly over and around the contours of his face. She touched him precisely, with adventure and love, mapping out a face she already knew by heart. Down his sideburns her fingers trailed, running along his jaw and across the bridge of his nose. Not once did she look him in the eye, she only followed the path of her fingers and what lay beneath, as though she were trying to find reason to believe she was wrong. Or perhaps that she was right.

“You really do look like him,” she whispered, and she reflected a bedazzled smile when he chuckled quietly.

“I am him.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise.”

“Where’s your second heart, then?”

“You tell me.”

... small edit: I’ve just noticed you didn’t actually ask for number 7 lmao. ENJOY THAT ONE ON ME.

[novelconcepts]

fic: heading into the dark (and we’ve got to hang on to each other)

Life, as Dani Clayton sees it, is full of darkness. Little darknesses, like a mother who draws away even as she continues to draw breath, and big darknesses, like loss that comes out of absolutely nowhere, and all the variations in between. Life is unpredictable. It’s ugly. It’s cruel. 

Life also grants the laughter of small children, and wonderful dinners prepared by good friends, and Jamie’s hand in hers. 

There is, certainly, no shortage of lights in the dark. 

***

“Teach me,” she says one day, a month or two into the great experiment that is Moving to America with Jamie. “Come on.”

“Teach you,” Jamie repeats dryly. “To incur lung cancer?”

“You do it,” Dani points out, aware that she sounds rather petulant and not particularly caring. Jamie’s smiling the half-smile she gets whenever she’s about to let herself get talked over the edge of something. “Come on, I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Jamie shakes her head, but she’s already lost this battle, and she knows it. Her foot braced behind her on the wall outside their apartment, she turns her head toward the setting sun and exhales a long stream of blue smoke. “Fine, sure. But when you love it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I hardly think I’m in danger of--”

“Shut up and c’mere.” She cups her hand around the half-smoked cigarette, holding it up for Dani’s assessment. It’s awkward, the pass-off between her hand and Dani’s more of a fumble than anything else, and Dani nearly drops the damn thing. Jamie laughs. “Easy, now, don’t go wasting it. Now. Put it--”

“I know where to put it,” Dani laughs. Jamie raises her brows teasingly. 

“I’ll just bet you do. Okay, right, here’s the thing. When you inhale, you’re gonna want to take it slow. Nice and easy, but make sure you’re pulling the smoke deep into your lungs, or it’ll defeat the whole--”

Dani’s already sucking in a breath, and she’s just realized Jamie’s eyes have gone wide when her body recoils from the invasive swirl sweeping into her lungs like a hurricane. 

“Easy, I said!” Jamie pries the cigarette from Dani’s suddenly-limp grasp as she doubles over on a gagging cough. Her lungs burn, her hand groping for Jamie’s sleeve, and even though it feels fucking awful, there’s something so wonderfully steadying about Jamie’s hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Now’s not the time for an old-fashioned I-told-you-so, is it?”

Eyes streaming, Dani tries to fix her with a glare, but Jamie’s outlined in the red-gold of a setting sun, her lips pursed around the cigarette once more, and she can’t find it within herself to do anything but laugh. 

***

“You really don’t know how?”

“Don’t laugh,” Jamie grumbles. “Never got around to it, is all.”

Dani’s leaning forward, practically falling off the beach chair in her excitement. Jamie, she has learned over these past few months together, is not the sort of person who doesn’t know things. She may not be good at everything she tries--she’s a rotten cook, for example, though a passable baker--but it sometimes feels like Jamie’s lived more in thirty years than Dani will if granted twice that time. Sometimes, when Jamie is sweeping a billiards table, or fixing a door hinge, or replacing a bit of questionable wiring in the bathroom without managing to electrocute either of them, Dani catches herself thinking there’s nothing Jamie doesn’t know. 

She can never decide if this is more overwhelming or reassuring, truthfully. 

But this. This is just too damn good. 

“You have to let me teach you,” Dani says. “You have to, come on.”

“I think you’ll find I don’t,” Jamie says, arms crossed over her chest. Dani slides from her chair, darting a glance around. It’s unseasonably chilly for June in California, the sky a mottled blue-gray that suggests a storm could strike at any moment. The beach is blessedly clear, and she takes the opportunity to slip into Jamie’s lap.

“Please? It’ll make me so happy, to get to teach you something, for once.”

She can see Jamie doing the calculations, brow furrowed over uncertain eyes. On the one hand, if learning how to swim had been on her radar, she likely would have picked it up ages ago; on the other, Dani’s arms are around her neck, nails tracing lightly under the tousle of her hair, and this is not the sort of conversation starter that often leads to Jamie saying the word “no.”

“Right,” she says grumpily at last. Dani isn’t quite sure whether it’s the batting of her eyelashes or the scrape of short nails across the nape of Jamie’s neck that gets the job done, but Jamie is hoisting them both out of the white plastic chair. “Fine, then, Poppins. Lead me to the slaughter.”

The rain holds off all afternoon, long enough for Jamie’s uneasy flapping in shallow waves to transition into clumsy-yet-useful buoyancy. When Dani places a hand lightly beneath her back and eases her into a calm float, her brow creases. 

“Hey,” Dani says quietly. Her free hand cups Jamie’s cheek, smoothing salty water into her skin. “Look at me. You trust me?”

“Always,” Jamie replies, the word coming almost before Dani’s question is complete. She opens her eyes, and Dani smiles. 

“I’d never let you drown, Jamie. Promise. And who knows? This might come in handy someday.”

***

“It’s...big,” Dani says, a bit nervously. Laughter explodes out of Jamie like a firecracker. 

“It’s not! It’s wee as all hell, Poppins.”

“Bigger than I thought,” Dani amends. “You sure we can keep a place like this afloat?”

The idea of running a business still seems like something out of an extended fever, if she’s honest with herself. At first, it had been a laugh--a conversation held over an empty pizza box and two spent bottles of wine, with her head in Jamie’s lap and her legs all twisted under a blanket. She’d told Jamie she felt weird about getting back into teaching, about the idea of subjecting any kids to whatever mad road her mind might lead her down. 

“They’ll need to be able to rely on me,” she’d said, a little too drunk to really feel the weight of the sentiment. Jamie’s fingers drifted through her hair, her thumb catching on the shell of her ear. “Can’t do that if your teacher’s in the middle of losing her marbles.”

“You’re not,” Jamie had said, with that soft resolution Dani loved so much in her. “But s’all right. You don’t have to go back just yet--ever, if you don’t want to. We can do something else for an honest buck.”

It was a conversation, a way to make herself feel better about the imminent future and all its secrets...and then, seemingly all at once, it was real. A real little shop, just down the block from their apartment, with a real counter and real shelves and a real back room for custom arrangements. Jamie could grow here, anything she liked. And Dani could bask in the peculiar sensation of having a purpose again, even if not the one she’d expected. 

It’s a lot those first few days--weeks--months, but a year in, Dani finds she’s taken to the shop like almost nothing else in her life. She loves talking to the people who bustle in looking for arrangements for mothers and wives and graduation events. She loves the way Jamie tends to the flowers with a gentle hand, always willing to pop off a fact or insight about any given type. She especially loves the way Jamie looks at closing time each night, the way she combs her shaggy hair back from her eyes and leans over each bud in turn to murmur reassurances. Back in the morning. You all get on, best behavior, until we meet again. 

She slips up behind Jamie, arms around her middle, and rests her chin on Jamie’s shoulder. “I like that you do that. Talk to them.”

Jamie favors her with a soft, tired smile. “Nothin’ ever blossomed without good communication, Poppins.”

***

Dani starts saying I love you so much faster than either of them is prepared for. The first time the words slip from her mouth, they’re standing in the devastation of what once qualified as their kitchen. Batter drips down the side of the refrigerator. There’s flour caked in Jamie’s hair, giving the effect of a grumpy old witch woman whose magic potion rebelled in the most cataclysmic sense. 

“Swear to Christ,” she says gruffly. “I had the damn mixer in the damn bowl.”

The way Dani sees it, there are two ways to respond to this: with scolding, or with hysterical laughter. She settles on the latter almost without conscious decision, scooping up a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Jamie’s mouth opens and closes, words not quite enough for the moment. 

“You,” she says, “are irreverent.”

“And you,” Dani replies, skating across the slippery tile until she has Jamie backed up against the postcard-bedazzled front of the fridge. “You’re wonderful.”

Jamie looks like she wants to contradict this statement, perhaps thinking of the cake that now decorates the walls. “This was going to be for your birthday, you--”

Dani is kissing her, hands gripping Jamie’s collar. She hasn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, melting against Jamie when hands settle around her waist like Jamie’s been looking for a reason to give in all afternoon. 

“I--could still--” Jamie’s mouth moves down her neck, more than half distracted from her own words. “--fix it--”

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be,” Dani tells her, or thinks she does; it’s a bit hard to focus with Jamie’s hand sliding around and down that way, with Jamie’s hips bucking lightly against her. 

“It’s like you don’t even want a birthday cake,” Jamie murmurs, biting her shoulder gently through the thin fabric of a co-opted Blondie shirt. “Did I say you could borrow this?”

“Take it back, then,” Dani breathes. 

Later, tucked together against the cabinets, she turns her face against Jamie’s neck. Her hand is trapped between the tile and Jamie’s back, going steadily numb. Moving isn’t even a concept. 

“I love you,” she says. It comes out a little slurred, a little sleepy, but entirely true. Jamie raises her head, shifting to look her in the face. 

“It’s all to do with my grade-A baking talents, isn’t it?”

***

Jamie doesn’t say it back right away. Most of the time, Dani gets it. Doesn’t want to push. There was so much of that in her old life, in what she sometimes thinks of as the Era of Danielle--every step of the way with Edmund felt like someone was standing behind her, hands pressed into her back, shoving her along. Into a man, yes, but more than that: into a preconceived notion. Be somebody’s wife. Be somebody’s answer to the question of who they want to be in the world. Be small, be quiet, be the person who says yes and yes and yes, absolutely, even when you want to scream. 

The last thing she’d ever do is push Jamie, so she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. If Jamie loves her--and Dani’s fairly confident she does, at least on the days when the old ghosts aren’t cracking out of the walls to tell her otherwise--then Jamie will get around to it on her own merit. 

Still, when Jamie does, it takes her by surprise. 

“I’m pretty in love with you, it turns out,” she says, like she’s been steeling herself for this moment for weeks--and, Dani thinks, judging by the single moonflower on the counter, she probably has. Jamie, who pretends to play the game of life with such casual disinterest. Jamie, who pretends it’s all one-day-at-a-time. Jamie, who spent hours in secret cultivating this one tiny symbol that says so unbelievably much about her, just so she could tell Dani all this in the right way. 

There’s a couch in the back room, a wide squashy old beast that Dani had been adamantly opposed to when Jamie first pointed it out. “It’s ridiculous. What are we going to do with that?”

She has to admit, pulling Jamie along and latching the door behind them, that it seems like an excellent idea now. It’s only by the thinnest grace of self-preservation--she likes this shop, likes this life, would very much like not to be run out of Vermont by some old-fashioned jackass peering through their window and seeing too much--that they make it to the couch at all. 

“It’s okay, then,” Jamie says, falling backward onto overstuffed brown leather and pulling Dani with her. “This problem of ours?”

Dani kisses her, the giddiness and desire so powerful a combination, she almost feels drunk with it. Jamie laughs into her mouth, one hand already working the buttons of her blouse, that laugh turning into a low, liquid groan. Dani, fingers slipping between waistband and skin, has already beaten her to the punch. 

It’s in moments like these, she thinks. Moments like these where everything falls into place. Not just being with Jamie, but being with Jamie here, in a place they own, on their own terms. Not just being with Jamie, but being with a Jamie who has been clarifying her love for a year, doing so with hot tea and cool smiles and repairs around the house and gentle reassurances. She said it here, planned out like a proposal, and she’s saying it again and again--”love you, fuck, love you--” as Dani winds them closer together, but it wasn’t the first time. Not really. Jamie’s been saying it since the moment she took Dani by the hand and asked if she wanted company while she waited for the darkness to consume her. 

Jamie rocks under her, making a softly desperate little noise into her mouth, and Dani has never felt so understood. Never quite put it together like this before. That Jamie thought she had to say it a certain way, show it a certain way, is wonderful and absurd and silly. 

“I like this problem,” she says. “Best problem I’ve ever had.”

***

“You like it?”

Jamie’s voice is too-casual. The kind of casual that says, look, if you don’t like it, I’ll understand, but I’ll spend the next six months going slowly crazy coping with that knowledge. Jamie gets this kind of “casual” only so often, and usually, Dani likes to string it along before reassuring her. It’s a little mean, maybe, but the way Jamie always sags against the nearest bit of furniture with a hand over her eyes, groaning, “Jesus Christ, Poppins, you could just be gentle with me” does something exceptionally pleasant to her stomach. 

This time, she’s not even thinking about teasing Jamie. 

This time, she’s just staring. 

“If you don’t like it,” Jamie says, a bit more hurriedly now, “you can say so. I mean. Can’t do much about it, truth be told, but we can work through the issue. Get into some couple’s therapy, talk it out...”

“Stop talking,” Dani says through a shockingly dry mouth. “Please.”

Jamie’s mouth swings shut with a little click. Dani rises from the chair she’d been curled in, feet tucked under as she flipped through a Stephen King novel that hit just a little too close to home. She moves across the living room like a sleepwalker. 

Jamie, expression somewhere between warily anticipatory and genuinely frightened, is still holding the hem of her shirt aloft. Dani pauses, swaying slightly, a magnetism rising between them that she sometimes thinks should fade with time, should logically become less as the years become more. For a long beat, they just look at one another. 

She’s sinking to her knees before she realizes, hand sliding up Jamie’s stomach to grasp her fingers, the shirt hem, clutch both tight. Jamie drags in a breath. 

“Oh. S’like that.”

“Apparently,” Dani mutters, closing her free hand around Jamie’s hip and pressing her mouth to the line of flowers rising from the band of her jeans, coiling around the left side of Jamie’s stomach. Jamie sucks in a breath. 

“Okay, when I was sitting for the thing, I certainly wasn’t thinking, Poppins has a thing for tattoos, but can’t say I’m complaining...”

“How long?” Dani asks, the words muffled around slow, deliberate kisses. Jamie rocks back on her heels, one hand sliding down into Dani’s hair for balance. 

“I know you are not asking me detail-oriented questions while you do that.”

Dani pauses, grins, waits. Jamie groans. 

“How long did it take, or how long have I wanted a bloody tattoo?”

“The latter.” The flowers are blue and white, strung along a twisting vine. Dani is presently making it her personal life goal to kiss each and every one, licking gently upward as she goes. Jamie’s eyes flutter, grip tightening. 

“You are a truly--”

“Tread wisely,” Dani murmurs, biting at her hipbone. Jamie inhales. 

“’Bout a year. Or maybe six weeks. Or maybe my whole life, I dunno, sometimes these things just sneak up on you.”

“Tattoos sneak up on you?” Dani tilts her head back, grinning. Jamie peers down at her, hair falling messily across her forehead, expression soft. 

“Wouldn’t be the first thing.”

She gets more as the years go on--little yellow daffodils, chains of wildflowers, small, carefully rendered roses--almost always in places easily hidden. Each time, the sight of ink on pale skin, the patient way Jamie quietly explains each one in bed, letting Dani map them out beneath curious palms, sets her heart racing in a way she can’t explain.

It’s the permanence, she thinks the day Jamie comes home with a small moonflower on her inner forearm. It’s the promise of the thing. 

It’s the tomorrow of it all. 

***

“How hard can it be to put together a bedframe, Dani,” she mimics. Even to her own ears, her voice is shrill. She’s making too big a deal out of this, and she knows it. 

But for fuck’s sake, sometimes Jamie is hard-headed. 

“I’ll have it done in an hour, Dani,” she goes on, hands windmilling above her head. “I know you’ve got a busy day, so just leave it to me, Dani.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, “okay, I know you’re upset, but in what world have I ever used your name that many times in a sitting?”

Dani freezes, turning slowly on her heel. Jamie takes a step back. 

“Right, correct, this is not the moment for glib.”

“Jamie,” Dani sighs. “You promised.”

“I did,” Jamie agrees, “and I could say I tried, but we both know how I feel about lying...”

The apartment is a little bigger than their last, and everything fits all different. Dani knows it’s going to be good for them--they outgrew the last place far sooner than either had wanted to admit, and this one has a beautiful view of a park. Plenty of space for Jamie’s ever-growing plant collection. Plenty of space for stretching out and warming the cozy little world they’ve built together. 

Still, it’s different, and different has a way of setting Dani’s teeth on edge. There’s something about a new home that reminds her of moving into Bly a lifetime ago--the exhilaration mixing with trepidation mixing with shadows she doesn’t yet know the names of. They've been here a week, sleeping in a blanket fort in the living room, Dani waking most mornings with carpet marks dug deep into her skin. She wants their room situated. She wants to sleep in their bed. 

She wants Jamie to build the damn frame like she promised three days ago. 

“I sometimes have trouble telling,” Jamie says, her accent thicker as it always is when she’s reasonably sure she’s stepped in it. “Am I actually in trouble?”

Dani sighs. “Jamie...”

“Oh.” Jamie edges closer. She’s dressed for battle, Dani notes, in shorts that barely qualify as legal and her softest flannel shirt. The very shirt, if Dani looks closely enough, Dani herself slipped into after a shower about two weeks ago and sent Jamie gaping at her like she’d been hypnotized. 

“Don’t,” Dani warns, remembering all too well the way Jamie had behaved the last time this shirt saw daylight. “Don’t, Jamie. I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“I can see that,” Jamie agrees. “You might say that’s why I’m making this desperate bid for, ahh, not being in the doghouse.”

“Jamie.” Dani manages to turn the word into about eleven syllables, which usually has some effect, but Jamie’s already within the proverbial walls. Her hands are riding up Dani’s ribcage, dangerously high, her smile the kind of charming only a heart of stone could resist. 

It’s cheating, and Jamie knows it, and Dani wants to point this out, but Jamie’s got her backed up against the mattress. The mattress that should be on a nice, well-made, sturdy frame. The mattress they could both be on top of right now, if only Jamie had just--if Jamie had--

“This is incredibly unfair,” she groans. Jamie, busy kissing her throat with slow, open-mouthed abandon, says nothing. Dani grasps at her shoulders with both hands, squeezing flannel between her fists, and lets her weight fall backward. Jamie holds her up, one hand up the back of her skirt, the other testing the resistance of her sweater. 

“You,” she gasps, even as Jamie moves a leg between her thighs and rocks gently, “are still in trouble.”

“Mmhmm,” Jamie agrees, a million miles away. She’s nipping at Dani’s earlobe now, and Dani can feel her grinning. 

“You are still putting the goddamn bed together, Jamie.”

“Sure,” Jamie says, husky, and presses her harder against the mattress. “Later.”

“Honestly, how do you do this every time?”

***

“You sure about this?” 

“Yes.” The answer is kind of actually no, but curiosity is getting the best of her. Anyway, it won’t be like before, the first time she ever tried to bum a cigarette off of Jamie and wound up nearly throwing up into the street. A couple of years and an indeterminate amount of cigarettes later, she’s got the art of it down, though she’s not what she’d call a smoker, per se. 

(She’s not, but try telling Jamie that. Just because she sometimes slips the cigarette from between Jamie’s fingers in a restaurant, or when they’re lounging outside after a long day, or in bed after a particularly effective round of Jamie getting herself out of trouble. Dani finds the act soothing, but only if Jamie has already lit up and taken a puff. Then and only then does it feel like sharing part of Jamie.)

“It’s different,” Jamie warns. “Not saying you can’t handle it, mind, but--”

“Just show me how it’s done, Jamie.”

This challenge, she utters in her lowest voice, and Jamie raises an eyebrow. “I see what you’re doing, Poppins.”

“What am I doing?”

Fact of the matter is, she’s having a very specific kind of day. The kind where her mind keeps drifting. The kind where memory feels heavier than it has in years. It’s not the first time she’s had a day this heavy, nor will it be the last, but it still bothers her. 

She hasn’t told Jamie. Doesn’t feel like she needs to, not yet. This doesn’t quite feel like beast-in-the-jungle territory so much as that old twisting panic, the old sense that she’s missing a test everyone else has studied for. When her mind edges her down this path, all she ever wants--all she can ever do about quieting it--is to hold close to Jamie. 

Jamie, who is giving her a searching look now, even as nimble fingers roll a joint.  “Sure you’re sure? Only, if you’re not up for it, I’m not going to judge.”

“Jamie. Do you trust me?”

Jamie’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Always.”

“Then get it started and hand it over.” She’s laughing a little, a nervous burble laugh that makes her feel more tethered to her own body. Jamie reaches over, closing a hand over her wrist and squeezing. 

“Your wish and all that, Poppins. But do me a favor? Go easy this time.”

She takes the first hit, and then a second, leaning back against the green granite counter and exhaling slowly toward the ceiling. For a minute, it’s enough for Dani just to watch her: relaxed posture in a long-sleeved black shirt, rolled to the elbows to give her more room to make a mess of dinner an hour previously. Her hair is getting longer, shaggier, her makeup reckless in that half-attention way Jamie has of barely caring what she looks like for anyone who isn’t Dani. 

“Your turn.” 

Dani takes her at her word this time, careful to draw a small amount of smoke into her lungs and hold there. Even so, she coughs once, a slow, clean burn sliding outward through her chest. Jamie nods approvingly.

“Did you grow this yourself?” she asks after another careful hit. She hands the joint back, letting her hip press against the counter an inch from Jamie’s. There’s a comfortable heat between them this evening, slow-simmer ease that makes her think of early days. She likes the lingering way Jamie rests her hand against Dani’s on the countertop, pinky finger lightly caressing the edge of her skin, like the world’s most comfortable seduction. 

“Nah,” Jamie says, with the joint between her lips. There’s something about the way she closes her eyes on the inhale, about the way her free hand never leaves Dani’s skin. Warmth works its way through her belly, and she thinks, bad day, maybe, but a good night. 

“Would you grow it?” It’s just something to say. She’s already starting to feel the smoke coiling around her thoughts, her head growing soft, buzzing gently around the edges. She imagines she can feel Jamie’s hand all the way through her body. 

“Not in our shop, if we wanted to keep the place.” Jamie’s eyes twinkle, the joint outstretched. “More?”

Dani shakes her head. The world is very slightly fuzzy, the kitchen warm, and Jamie has never felt more real. She watches Jamie carefully put out the lit end, setting the joint in an ashtray, liking the authority with which Jamie moves. 

She’s always like this, always so focused on the little details that make up a day. On days where Dani feels like she’s coming up from the ground in one horrible jerk, Jamie is always there to root her again. It’s a good feeling, knowing Jamie is there. Knowing Jamie is only getting more there with time. 

Later, she’ll look back on this as the moment. The one where she first decided to do it. The actual question, the actual plan, the actual ring won’t be here for years yet, but this is the moment the spark takes hold. 

It would be different, she decides, as her fingers curl like vines around Jamie’s, bringing their joined hands against her chest. It would be so different than last time. No push. No expectation. Just a promise. Just us. 

She likes being high with Jamie, she decides very quickly. Likes how it makes Jamie’s already-firm confidence firmer. Likes how it makes her already-sensitive skin buzz with pleasure. Likes the way Jamie folds her against the counter, hands gentle on the back of her head, and kisses her like it’s the first time. 

She’s all exposed nerve and heavy limb and giggle as Jamie leads her to the bedroom, eases her down, cups her face between soft hands. For once, the shadows seem to work in her favor, curling around them as they move together, as cloth becomes skin, and she’s sighing, sighing, crying Jamie’s name into the darkness. 

Jamie said once, a lifetime ago, that sometimes you have to drop everything too heavy to carry in order to hang on to one another. Jamie said it with such intensity, it didn’t even cross Dani’s mind to think of it another way. That, if you’re going to march into the dark, having a hand to hold as you go can make all the difference in the world.

The lights are on, for now. The lights are on, and Jamie holds her so tight with hands so soft, and Dani knows it’s not forever. Can sense it, like you sense the return of a childhood bad dream. Can feel it, shifting below the surface. 

Maybe closer now. Maybe a little bit more awake than before. She can’t say for sure. 

What she can say is that a night like this--kissing her way down Jamie’s chest, kissing flowers and bellybutton and that spot just above her hip that makes her writhe with laughter--is a torch. A ward against the monsters. A little light to carry them through the dark. 

She’s got Jamie on her skin, in her mouth, imprinted on her soul, and she thinks it’s the best anyone can ask for. The only thing anyone can hope for. 

And when Jamie clutches her hand right back, flashes that I’m-out-of-trouble smile, drapes one of her worn flannel shirts around Dani’s bare shoulders, she thinks, as long as I can have this. As long as she’ll have me. The shadows can’t possibly swallow me whole. 

[marlynnofmany]

Accidentally Human, Chapter 15

Today we get to enter human territory through the proper channels, instead of flying over the walls! Surely it’ll be easy, right? (Ha.)

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Chapter 15 1281 words

The night on the shore was unpleasant, but Razorscale had spent worse. He was the first to wake, and he wasted no time in rousing his apprentice and getting the handful of non-dragons ready to move. They were groggy and slow with the exception of Twig, and the pixie’s manic chatterbox nature wasn’t an improvement over the grumbling of the others.

There was no food left from the day before, which made the grumbling worse. Once Windmane had applied some pixie dust, she flew up to sample the grass by the roadside, and declare it barely edible with human taste buds. Stomp and Twig climbed up to try it too, while Beak reached for her own pixie dust with words about going fishing.

“There will be food in the city,” Razorscale snapped. “We are wasting time. Everyone grab your things and let’s move.”

They grumbled some more, but fell in line. The centaur and minotaur each snatched up handfuls of grass to eat on the way. Razorscale made a face at the idea. Even with a human digestive system, which could supposedly handle plants, he would never. Judging by Beak’s expression, she agreed.

At Razorscale’s directions, the group resumed the awkward high-speed arrangement they’d had before. Once the apprentice was airborne with the others in pursuit, Razorscale activated his speed charm and outpaced them all. He’d followed this road at night earlier, and knew the way now.

There were other people on the road during the daytime, which hadn’t been the case before, but none of them took up enough space to cause Razorscale more than a minor detour. Their reactions of surprise were irrelevant. No one got in his way or gave those in the sky trouble, and that was all that mattered.

After dodging umpteen carts and pedestrians, mostly human, Razorscale finally saw the city walls ahead. As agreed, the group gathered at the side of the road to proceed on foot for the last stretch. There was some minor complaining, but none from the apprentice, who looked more tired than they would likely admit.

“Can I keep hovering?” asked Windmane. “I still can’t walk on two legs.”

Razorscale sighed. “Use the carpet,” he said. “We want to be unremarkable. The humans have vehicles that fly, but I suspect that only their most powerful mages can move through the air on their own.”

She didn’t like it, but she took up a position on the flying carpet while the others stood. Razorscale ushered them into picking up their share of the blanket bundles, then he led the way toward the human stronghold.

The people they passed on the road didn’t exclaim in shock now, though their gazes did linger. Razorscale was displeased to find that all of these humans were staring at his young apprentice. It didn’t bode well for an anonymous entrance.

He was right. The guards at the gate stopped them, while letting everyone else on the road pass. Razorscale waited with ill grace for the justification. These humans wore armor that was bedazzled with all manner of battle magics, but they clearly wielded none of their own.

“No dragons allowed in the city proper,” explained the shorter one. She addressed Razorscale, but pointed at his apprentice as if discussing a trained animal. “Not without special dispensation.”

“Why?” Razorscale demanded.

“They’re too big,” the guard said. “Knock things over. It was a problem in the past, so now there’s a law.”

“Knock things over?” Razorscale repeated. “You think any self-respecting dragon would be so clumsy?”

“I don’t make the rules, sir. But you can’t bring a dragon inside without permission, and I’m afraid there’s no loitering around the entrance either.”

Razorscale showed his teeth. “If you—”

“But it’s just a baby dragon!” Stomp interrupted. “It’s very well-behaved. Look.” She scooped up the youngling in question, who had the grace to keep quiet and play along. That was an ungainly armful for a human, but Stomp was muscled in minotaur fashion. She held the dragon without wavering. “I promise it won’t cause any trouble; we’re only here for a short visit. What if we use a leash? It’s as tame as a dog, I swear.”

Razorscale scowled and held his tongue while the minotaur convinced the pair of humans that the talented magician older than they were was in fact a helpless toddler. The indignity of it all.

But it worked. The guards agreed to make an exception “Just this once,” and said they’d hold her responsible if the young dragon ended up setting something on fire or eating things it shouldn’t. Stomp agreed.

Razorscale held his silence until they were about to be allowed in, and the guards took issue with the flying carpet.

“You’ll need a permit for that.”

“Really?” Razorscale said. “Do these knock things over too?”

“What about pixie dust instead?” Windmane asked quickly.

“Do you have some with you?” the guard asked sharply. “That’s banned outright.”

“No,” Windmane said. “There was … somebody selling it down the road a ways.” She pointed back the way they had come, with what seemed to Razorscale like an unconvincing expression.

“We’ll look into it. Now please dismount. If you don’t have a permit, we can hold the carpet for safekeeping while you’re here.”

“But I can’t walk!” Windmane wailed.

“She really can’t!” Stomp added.

Razorscale jabbed a finger toward the carpet. “That is a mobility aid,” he spat. “No one will be taking flights of fancy or knocking things over. Now if you don’t mind, we have business to attend to, and I’m sure you have much better things to be doing than harassing people for absurd reasons.” Fed up, he drew on a charm and flared his mage lines. “We will see you again soon when we leave. Good day.”

Like the previous pair had, these guards fell all over themselves to apologize at the sight. Razorscale just glared and led his group through the gates. The guards were whispering as soon as he passed, mage lines once again faded from sight. He knew full well that the humans wouldn’t keep this encounter to themselves. He would have to move quickly.

Thankfully the roads were wide and well-labeled, with a clear route toward the river. Razorscale set a quick pace in that direction.

He heard his apprentice say, “I appreciate your quick thinking, but I feel extremely insulted. Please put me down.”

“Yes of course, sorry,” Stomp replied.

Then the apprentice was trotting by Razorscale’s side, dignified as ever. The two dragons exchanged a nod of These people are all idiots, then continued in silence.

The river was easy to find, the direction was easy to figure out, and the trash-strewn park was right where Razorscale had left it. So was the shop. But it was closed.

Razorscale glared at the “closed for renovations” sign, and felt something akin to regret. Which is to say, he was angry that this was partly his fault.

“Wow,” Twig said, face pressed to a crack in the boarded-up windows. “Somebody really wrecked the place.”

“Yes,” Razorscale said. “Someone did.” He looked around with a silent snarl, thinking over what little he knew of the missing human. Not enough to find him.

Beak was the one to ask: “Now what?”

Razorscale checked the street sign. “Same plan, different route. We locate our enemies.”

“And how do we do that?”

“By locating theirs,” Razorscale said. “This way. According to the gorgons, there should be a rival faction in the southeast part of town.”

“Can we get food first?” asked Windmane, while Twig agreed heartily.

Razorscale sighed. “Yes, fine, we’ll get food on the way.”

~~~

The next chapter is here, and the latest is up on Patreon. Time for adventures with human food!

[drowningheta]

Why Peter hates alcohol

The party was held at the Baxter Building. The Fantastic Four’s five-year anniversary was supposed to be low-key, but as more and more superhero allies and friends caught wind of the celebration, so did the media.

Peter was happy to have been invited, even though he had to reject the offer- after all, he couldn’t attend as both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

There were only a handful of guests that Peter didn’t recognize, and dozens he had to pretend to not recognize. A couple tipsy guests had come up to him asking for their picture taken. Including at one point a lawyer and his partner, Matt Murdock, who spent the whole time pointedly ignoring Peter. Smooth Matty.

Peter spent the most of his time snapping pictures, carefully avoiding people and snacking at the food table.

Johnny Storm had caught his eyes a couple of times, leaving Peter to careful avoid him. It was Johnny’s house, and Peter knew he was bound to catch up with him sooner or later.

The party had been going for about two hours when Peter realized he had been cornered. The only spaces to move were through the throngs of people he was also trying to avoid, or through Johnny. Peter took a deep breath and put on his game face.

Johnny had a glass of champaign, and was swaying gently to the music. Peter stuffed the rest of his hors d’oeuvre into his face and waited for the inevitable.

‘Parker!’ Johnny exclaimed, leaning on Peter’s shoulder. ‘Sent by the Bugle, huh?’ Johnny was a little tipsy, his eyes wide and intense.

‘You know it.’ Peter responded with a tense smile.

‘Can’t be often you get to come to parties like this? Bet your gonna get a butt load of money off of this party. Better this than slandering Spider-Man, right?’ Johnny gave himself a shake as though to shake of his irritation. Johnny snatched another champagne flute. ‘There’s gotta be a good amount of money in showing off the superhero lifestyle, huh? Gotta show people what their missing out on more than just violence.’

‘Anything you say, Hotstuff.’ Peter chuckled raising his camera to snap a candid of Jennifer Walters with her boyfriend.

Johnny pushed the extra champagne towards Peter. Peter acquiesced if just to diffuse his own tension.

Peter sent him an amused glance. With a blush Johnny realized he’d been staring.

‘So, what are you taking pictures of?’ Johnny cleared his throat.

Peter simply gestured at the crowd.

‘Yeah, but of what? I figure if you’re making money from this, it’s probably more than just a group picture.’ Johnny finished his drink.

              ‘Well, I got a nice one of Jen and John over there.’ Peter held up the display showing Jennifer Walters towering over her boyfriend, with him gazing lovingly up at her. The chaos of the party was blurred around them like a halo.

‘I was told to -and I quote- ‘get the superhuman angle, Parker! We want to bedazzle the readers so they don’t realize how boring those schmutz parties are.’’

              ‘You’re bored?’ Johnny asked, only half listening. All of the guests painted a gorgeous picture. Everything that was good about parties without the bad choices and drinking games. Johnny itched to be among them, while also feeling suffocated by them.

‘So, you weren’t listening to anything I just said?’ Peter’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

‘What? I … No!’ Johnny stuttered.

‘Oh yeah, what did I just say?’

Johnny got ready to snap back before recognizing a teasing pull at Peter’s lips.

‘Okay, I might have zoned out for a moment there.’

‘I was saying that I almost got a good one of Sue, but she went invisible just as I took the picture, so it’s just an empty space. Here, see?’ Peter showed Johnny a shot of empty space that Janet van Dyne and Hank Pym seemed to be talking to.

‘Yeah, well… are you almost done? You got enough pictures yet?’

Peter’s pretty brow creased, whether in frustration or confusion Johnny couldn’t tell. ‘C’mon Parker, drink with me, for new times sake.’ Johnny plowed on. Johnny didn’t want to re-join the party just yet; he also didn’t want to just linger on the edges. A small part of him didn’t want to leave Peter either.

Peter woke from one of the worst sleeps of his life. His head pounded and mouth was dry. He groaned lightly. Head buried in the pillow; Peter tried to work out who had beat his ass this time. He had been at the Fantastic Four’s party, but he didn’t remember swinging home. Or getting home at all. Moments passed and Peter realized that only his head hurt. There were no tell-tale pains or aches in his limbs that could justify the headache.

Peter pushed himself up. His stomach lurched. ‘Oh god.’ Peter muttered. He could taste bile. Peter lowered himself down.

‘Good morning to you too.’ A familiar voice responded, cocky and familiar.

He was in Johnny Storm’s bedroom. He was dressed in only his jocks, and he was in Johnny Storm’s bed. ‘Oh god.’ Peter repeated.

Something smelled really good. ‘I made us bacon and eggs!’

At this, Peter pushed himself up. His stomach gurgled unhappily. Johnny pressed a glass of water into his hands. Peter drank it down greedily.

Johnny looked infuriatingly good as usual. He was in only a pair of white and blue trackpants, slung low over his hips. There were tiny bruises on Johnny’s waist. A small pattering of finger sized bruises over the swell of his hips. Peter remembered causing them.

Embarrassment washed over Peter.

‘I don’t remember much?’ Peter trailed off looking down and missed how Johnny’s face fell.

‘Well… We mostly just made out, a little bit of hand stuff.’ Johnny told him as easily as if they were discussing the weather. ‘I gotta say, you have an impressive physique for someone who takes photos for a living.’ Johnny gazed Peter up and down. He really was a work of art. Peter blushed at the praise. A cute work of art too.

‘Here, I’ve got some Panadol that will make short work of your headache.’ Peter accepted the pills even though they wouldn’t be effective on him.

‘You don’t drink much, do you? I would almost be worried if it wasn’t you coming on to me all of last night.’ Johnny couldn’t help the pride in his voice. He knew was very attractive, confirmation was always flattering though. Peter blushed again.

‘The photos,’ he gasped, shooting up from the bed just to sit down as a wave of dizziness passed over him. ‘What- what time is it?’

Johnny passed him his camera, ‘About 10 am. There’s some really good pictures in there, by the way.’

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck shit fuck. I have to go. Jameson is going to kill me.’ Peter looked around wildly for his shirt. Shoving it on, grabbing his camera and his shoes, Peter propelled himself out of the door without a goodbye, which he would later come to regret.

Johnny looked at the sizzling bacon with a twinge of disappointment and loneliness. Looks like he was eating breakfast alone again.

[bangchanshehe]

Bodyguard Lee pt.1

You met a kind stranger wandering the streets of Athens who was willing to go out of his way to help you. But across the globe weeks later you cross paths with him again. Could having this many unexpected meetings be a happy coincidence or an ill-fated destiny?

word count:2k

“Okay, I think we got the last shot we can pack up and go back to the hotel now” your manager said looking through the camera monitor at the last clip the music video director shot.

You nodded your head and quickly bowed politely to everyone in the film crew who just contributed to the past few days of filming for your upcoming music video. You were dead tired, covered in clothes that were so bedazzled and weighted that walking in them alone was a workout, let alone dancing in them. You had about three pounds of glitter covering your body and your feet felt like they would explode if you had to wear the heels you were in for a second longer.

Your manager came next to you and gave you a soft pat on your head “good job y/n. Everything will be done once we get the jacket cover shot”

You looked up at her and let out a long sigh. This project seemed like it would never end for you, and of course you decided to do all of your filming overseas, so none of your normal routine was kept in place. And in efforts to not sound like a totally ungrateful brat you definitely were happy with how smooth things were running and how well everyone worked together in order to produce an amazing video for you. It’s just three days of running the same music over and over, dancing the same dance and working from 6am to 6pm was an absolute killer.

Your manager looked down at your feet and grimaced at bit noticing the blood that was starting to dry up from the blisters on your feet opening again and again the past few days. “hang tight, I’m going to go get the car” she said before she quickly disappeared.

You had spotted and empty chair so you wobbled over to it and quickly sat down and took off you heels. You winced as you peeled the demon shoes over your feet and you tried to massage the pain away before you had to put them back on.

“y/n!” you heard your name being called out from behind you

You turned to see a member of the set calling out for you as he ran towards you. You looked up to him confused as to why he was in such a rush. when he finally was within arms reach he softly smiled and bent over to catch his breath.

“y/n, I know this isn’t exactly business professional….” He gasped for air “but I’m actually a really big fan of yours! Would you mind taking a picture with me?” he asked with a shy smile

You chuckled at him for being so shy and you nodded your head “of course. But if you don’t mind…. Do you think you could bend over so I don’t have to stand up?” you asked him pointing at your bloodied feet

The crew member followed your finger and looked down at your feet only to look back up at you with his mouth open with shock. “of course! Thank you so much!”

He held up his phone and quickly snapped the photo of you two while the set was slowly broken down and packed away piece by piece in the background.

Just in record time your manager pulled around and stopped next to the chairs you were resting at and quickly jumped out to the open the door and help you get into your seat in the back. The moment that your door was shut you ripped off your heels and put on slippers. It was a shame that you weren’t able to take better care of your feet during this trip but having to maintain your perfect image was more important than your health sometimes.

As the two of you rode in silence you stared out the window into the busy streets of Athens and wondered where everyone was going. You watched as groups of friends were smiling and chatting with one another as they made their way to their destinations and as mothers walked hand in hand with their children on their way home. You had let a single tear fall from the corner of your eye and you quickly wiped it away before your manager saw anything.

You had loved your life and the abilities that you had now to do whatever you wanted and to take care of your family. Except that you couldn’t have the one thing that you really wanted… and that was to just be a normal girl again.

You faced the front of the car and stared at your manager for a moment as you gauged her mood. “do you think that tonight I would have time to take a look around the buildings near our hotel?” you asked her softly hoping that you would get a yes from her.

She turned her head to get a small glance at you before she turned back to face the road “with feet like that?” she asked jokingly. She was silent for a few moments before she finally spoke up again “you don’t have anything scheduled until 12 tomorrow so as long as you don’t stay out too long I don’t see a problem with that.”

You sat back into your seat and smiled to yourself. Out of everything that you had done this what you had looked forward to the most. Even if it was only to look around for an hour, you desperately wanted some alone time to smell all of the food and the wine, and explore what the city looked like at night.

“but you’d better wear some good shoes, because I wont answer the phone if you need me to come pick you up because your feet start hurting you!” she finished

“I wont! I promise” you said quickly

  Within a few more minutes you were back at your hotel and you practically sprinted up to your room to take a shower. You thoughtlessly washed your face and hair, too excited to take your time and complete your usual routines when all you wanted to do was get out and explore. As soon as you were done rinsing off you found your most comfortable clothes and a pair of slides that wouldn’t rub the back of your heels and blow dried your hair.

“bye” you yelled out to your manager as you smiled and made your way to the front door of your shared room

“bye” she said back with a chuckle.

You quickly left the room and prompted the elevator to take you down and as you waited you could feel the excitement begin to bubble inside of you. You had thought about what all you wanted to experience in your short time of freedom. The elevator opened and you began to make your way down to the lobby. Once it opened up you smiled and decided that the first thing that you needed was to get a souvenir for your mom. She never asked you to bring anything back from trips because she knew how busy you were and how your trips were business based and you hardly left any time for you to actually relax and enjoy where you were.  But despite not having the time you always tried your hardest to at least bring her back something.

When you were finally in the street you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, and allowed yourself to just enjoy this small moment. You looked up and down the road and followed the one that seemed the most busy, in order to avoid being taken to a residential area.

The street was filled with people walking around, taking photos, and eating on street side patios. You window shopped as you passed by each business and frowned as you noticed that the shops were for things that you couldn’t exactly take back home with you like glass blown items or things that were generic that you could buy anywhere. But instead of going back to the hotel you decided to continue to follow the flow of traffic into the next street.

Again, you were down on your luck and couldn’t find more than a few bistros and businesses, so you decided to enter a convenience store and ask for help to find a souvenir shop. You had waited in the line until it was your turn and tried your best to ask for directions, but your language barrier was really keeping you from making any progress.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you are saying” the cashier said in her best English  with her hands in the air

“excuse me…” the man behind you said in Korean and you immediately turned around, excited and slightly hopeful that maybe he could help you

“yes?” you responded

“if you need directions somewhere I can help you, but allow for me to pay for my items first” he said and you gladly moved out of his way so he could check out

As he placed his items on the counter you looked at his side profile, and smiled to yourself. He wasn’t bad looking at all. In fact he was one of the first few men who had caught your attention in a long time.

When he was done he turned to face you with his bags and gave you a polite smile. He walked outside and you followed him like a lost puppy.

“where are you trying to go?” he asked you

You smiled up at him “I’m trying to find souvenirs to take back home”

“like postcards, cups, shirts… that sort of thing?” he asked and you shook your head quickly

He sucked on his teeth and looked up and down the street as if gauging which way he should go before he looked back down at you with a frown “you’re kind of in a bad spot for that sort of thing” he said softly and your smile quickly faded into a sulk. “the nearest ones are in the opposite direction from where we are. You see we are kind of in a residential area so there isn’t much around here accept for some specialty shops and cafes” he explained

You looked down at your feet and then back up at the streets. You had already spent at least 30 minutes just walking around and waiting in line at this small store. Dusk was starting to fall and you were really upset that you might not be able to find anything before businesses close.

“thanks” you said politely before you began to walk back in the direction of the hotel.

You walked in silence for a moment before you felt someone’s hand on your wrist “wait one moment” you turned around to find the same man who had helped you before. You had stopped and turned to face him once more

“if you give me five minutes I can take these home and then come back and help you get around” he offered you kindly with a soft smile

You battled with the voice in your head that told you that walking around in a foreign country with a stranger was a bad idea but decided that without him you probably wouldn’t get too far without being able to speak the language or know your sense of direction in general.

You nodded your head and gave him a soft “thank you” before he returned a beautiful smile back

“just wait here and ill be back as soon as I can!” he said before he turned around and ran down the road.

You watched as he ran off and you smiled to yourself. Thank god you found someone who was kind enough to help you. And thank god he didn’t recognize you… or at least he was really good at keeping his cool…. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Regardless you were really happy that this man was behind you in this line today.

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 8:15 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; 

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 3.3k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 8;

his side;

And so the ten minute stroll began… perhaps it’s the flush of relief after work that elevates the euphoric chill of fall against the diminishing tension in his muscles, or perhaps it’s the thought of finally having some down time to actually converse with this girl of a partner that has Jungkook afloat in cloud-nine—an addictive high of which only the gym could provide him and has him yearning for more. Jungkook’s time together with the girl was short and, realistically, their total time spent together outside of workshop would sum to a mere two hours or three, but there’s always been something about that dainty appearance and the contradictory boyish habits of hers that piqued an interest in Jungkook. Plus, living on the edge in a constant battle against time is just his style and it just so happens that tonight, more than ever, he’s willing to take this challenge and seize these ten minutes. 

“So—”

—the two partners turn to stare at each other after an unintended moment of synchrony. The girl, much more flustered than the other, flickers her widened gaze elsewhere, which only amuses Jungkook and his cracked, half-crooked grin all the more. 

“What?” Y/N asks sheepishly, peeking at the boy’s stare but only for a split second. 

“What?” Jungkook mimics all too nonchalantly with the quirk of a head.

A baffled laugh befalls her as she repeats, “what? What were you gonna say?”

“Nothing,” he purses his lips and shakes his head, crossing his bare arms over his tank, “what were you gonna say?”

“I… don’t know,” Jungkook watches her intently as she giggles nervously, “I don’t remember anymore because of you!”

“What?” he feigns innocence intermixed with offence. “Me?” 

But the thing is, Jungkook knows exactly what he had retracted from the space of her mind… nothing. Like him, his partner wasn’t asking for anything specific or dire because it turns out he isn’t the only one trying to fill the void in between the lines after all—and that, oddly enough to him, assures whatever anxiety he has pent up in his chest right this moment. 

And if all these subtle moments of Jungkooks’ observations amounted to anything, whether it be from the past, from afar, or even from the moment since they first collaborated, Y/N would ask him something related to work just to fill the silence. 

“Could you send me the info from workshop later tonight?”

Ah, Jungkook's internal snidish remark manifests in an outward smirk, just as predicted. 

“Why tonight?” Jungkook asks, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a Friday night. Shouldn’t you be out having fun?”

“Like what? Party?” her lips curl into a snarl. “You think I’m the type to get wasted and abandon all her responsibilities?” 

“Yeah, kind of,” Jungkook only shrugs with a smuggish grin overlooking the glare that Y/N shoots him; and even as she continues to quirk a brow at the boy, waiting for further elaboration, Jungkook turns away with anything but so. Why? Well, she never asked for one. Plus, something about teasing her, and particularly her, entertains his equally uneventful Friday nights. “So you’re not the type to drink?”

“Nope, I’m a pretty light drinker. Kind of sucks when every game is designed against your advantage,” Y/N smiles at the way her joke elicits a chuckle from Jungkook—not that he would notice—and she continues, “what about you? Do you drink?”

The boy peers down at his curious partner, muttering a short, “no.” 

“Really?” 

Something about the utter perk in her voice catches Jungkook off guard. Sure, he isn’t exactly on top of his life like she was, but does something about his appearance seem like every other boy on the market? In fact, being cramped in a house with an occupancy limit many folds less than the number of party attendees is a thought made of Jungkook’s worst nightmares. 

“No,” he shakes his head and prims, “can’t drink for the life of me. It’s gross.”

“Whaat? I’m surprised,” she stares at him bewilderingly, rendering a frown from Jungkook.

“Why?” 

“Well, you look kind of like a...” she takes a gander of him up and down, one of which Jungkook’s usually uninterested eyes can’t help but follow, “...nevermind.”

“Like a what?” his frown deepens because her comments regarding his appearance incites an irking curiosity in this typically unbothered boy. 

“Nothing,” she insists, laughing a bit too hard as Jungkook just watches helplessly. 

Well, it’s not like Jungkook really minds sacrificing the already ditzy impression he had made on his partner. A few of her teases here or there are harmless against his unperturbed conscience and if it brings joy to his rather guarded partner, he’s more than willing to knock himself off the pedestal. Just as a subtle grin leaks its way into his unfazed lips, a loud grumble reverberates from the depths of his stomach. Instinctively, Jungkook reaches into the pockets of his gym shorts only to be welcomed by the absence of his wallet and a loud groan from his throat. 

“What?” Y/N cocks a brow at the hungry boy. “You forgot your wallet again?” 

“It’s fine,” he hurriedly answers, recalling the financial burden he had once been to his partner when she last spotted him, “I’ll skip gym today and head home—”

“—no!” she abruptly cuts him off, her urgency surprising the both of them. “I mean, I can pay for you tonight. Just pay me back some other day.”

“No, you treated me last time.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re my partner.”

“So?”

“So it’s fine for me to spot you once in a while.”

“I’m not your boyfriend.”

“What—”

—time seems to come to a stop when a cold breeze intervenes the friendly banter and Jungkook can’t help but notice the shivers down his spine as he watches the glow of the street lights reflect from her eyes; and as if in slow motion, he watches her locks twirl in the autumn night air, too enamored and too enraptured to explain the sparks that befall the bedazzled night sky. If he isn’t careful, the windows to his soul would have given him and his facade of solidarity away. 

Is it something he said? Was his last remark a bit too kin given their business relations? Enveloped in his spiraled state of mind, he fails to notice the entrance of an unfamiliar man who repeats the very words that froze time in two, “who’s not your boyfriend?”

“You,” Jungkook’s eyes dart to find Y/N rolling her own, “what’re you doing here, Jimin?”

“Why can’t I visit the gym? This is a public space, is it not?” the boy Jungkook figures to be Jimin retorts. 

The banter seems to transition from the bubble he once shared with Y/N to the space between the new man and her. Time never seems to look back when Jungkook’s partner spares the remainder of her attention on the other man, as Jungkook watches silently on the sidelines. Sure, Y/N had many more peers than those in his own circle of friends and he even knew of her popularity amongst his coworkers, particularly the lovestruck and unfortunately rejected Taehyung, but Jungkook was never quite aware of how well acquainted Y/N must be with the boys. 

And it’s not like he’s particularly bothered by that fact more than intrigued, but, this time, Jimin’s unwelcome interruption and Y/N’s lack of attention pushes his buttons in all the wrong ways.

Silently pivoting on the balls of his heels and walking off down the sidewalk and away from the newly formed pair, Jungkook stuffs his hands into his pockets and takes special caution to the incoherent grumbles that almost slip past his pressed lips. Now that his plans for dinner is gone and his ephemeral conversation with his partner is cut short, he persists on a trek toward his car parked just a block from the bridge to Y/N’s apartment. 

The spot by his elbow once linked to her’s is particularly empty on his walk down the sidewalk. It isn’t as if he had been abandoned, for he was the one who had left her, but the change in the night’s temperature is a drastic drop from moments prior. Primming his lips and crossing his arms against his puffed chest, he nearly sighs in an unexplained motion of disappointment when something perks his ears. 

“Jungkook!” 

The boy turns around to find the very person he never would have known to be the subject of his mind until he heard her calls. The blank stare and the quirk of his brow could not conceal the skip in his chest when he catches sight of his partner jogging toward his direction, alone. 

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” she bends over with her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. 

Jungkook mumbles through barely parted lips, wondering if he’s just hallucinating, “didn’t want to interrupt you and your boy.” 

“And what do you mean by that?” she peers up with narrowed eyes. 

“Can’t ruin your shot at getting cuffed,” he shrugs, smirking to stifle the wide grin he almost adorned instead when Y/N gawks at him. 

“He’s just an acquaintance that I happen to know.”

“And why did you abandon this acquaintance?” 

“Because I was making plans with a certain friend before he came along.” 

“A friend?” Jungkook articulates with wide eyes, searching off into the distance for said ‘friend’ and observing the twisted look Y/N gives him in response. He points at himself in surprise, “oh, you mean me? We’re friends?”

“Okay, fine,” she blurts, frowning at him. “I meant partners. Colleagues. Whatever. Regardless, you’re not supposed to ditch me.”

Intently observing his partner for the next few seconds, even a dense man like Jungkook could not ignore the sharp jab at his chest and its aching wake that is left behind. It isn’t the pout that she gives him or the crossed arms of a livid woman that gets him but the genuine look of hurt hidden behind her mask of indifference that has him softening up with guilt; and as if swept by the spur of the seemingly whimsical night, Jungkook wraps an arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side. 

“Okay, let’s grab some dinner then, partner. Oh, and, remember,” he pulls her frame in closer and leans into her ear to mutter, “you’re my partner only.”

-

her side;

Fuckboy. 

That’s exactly what this boy standing beside you in the cafeteria reminds you of, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that you would have assumed his entire personality revolves around parties and alcohol; when his denial comes to light just an hour prior, however, you’re taken aback by your odd attraction to his unexpected personality that starkly contrasts his demeanor. For someone to be this attractive—jawline chiseled, soft lips crafted for the perfect kisses, swooped hair perfectly parted to the side, and stature built like the dream of any boys’—to not succumb to his own ego and the praises of his peers, there’s something immensely commendable about that. 

You hate to admit it, but this must be the first time you’re really accepting your friend’s previous comment on his utterly attractive traits. 

“Have you seen this meme of Ellen Musk?” you swipe open your phone in an effort to gauge his true persona. 

“You mean Elon Musk?” Jungkook corrects, and when you look up to reveal that panicking wide-eyed look of yours, you find him adorning an equally, if not more, giddy smile from ear to ear—and in that very moment, a sudden rush of blood brings an unbearable heat to your ears and gradually to your cheeks. Your heart races, each pump proclaiming to fracture your walls open, and you can’t help but persist to stare at him dumbfoundedly because you just don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear a more befitting smile than now—wide, cheeky, and ditzy, even, unlike the collected self he carries himself to be. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you barely manage to utter through your upturned lips, “same thing.”

“Right,” he says but the outstretched grin of his tells you his source of entertainment is going nowhere… a fact that you hold an odd sense of pride in. 

Knocked off your initial A-game, you get right back into your meticulous plan. You scroll through your chat with a particular male friend, whose profile picture you were sure was easy to identify, out in the open for Jungkook to see. Surprisingly enough, this Ellen Musk meme of yours manages to pique this rarely intrigued interest of Jungkook’s as he looks over your shoulder to join you in your search. 

Would he notice? Would he even care who you’re chatting with? 

“Who’s ‘Blocked’?” he asks and you turn to find him staring at you with those unreadable eyes of his. 

It takes every ounce of wariness in you not to grin jubilantly, because if he notices the nickname you had set for your friend, then that must mean he cares enough to check the name of whomever you’re chatting with… it’s not as if it means he likes you or that you like Jungkook enough to yearn for his attention, but being able to elicit the most subtle of reactions from a rather apathetic man like Jungkook is considered a victory to you. 

“Just,” you shrug, “a friend. Oh, look, here.”

Honestly, the meme isn’t exactly the most applicable to your conversations with Jungkook. Elon Musk and his interest in anime, which somehow implies that every anime fan is another sad computer nerd who has yet to pop their cherry, has absolutely nothing to do with work or music tastes or anything that you two have shared with one another. In fact, you’re not even sure if Jungkook is aware of what anime is or if he’s even comfortable enough with you to discuss the topic of sexual intimacy; but if there’s one thing you’ve discovered since you’ve developed an interest in this solitary man, it’s the undeniable desperation to scrape at anything for a conversation starter. 

“So,” he finally speaks after staring at the screen for a long second, the crooked grin that creeps onto his lips only slamming the gas pedal to your pulse, “you’re into that weeb shit, aren’t you?”

“What?” you gawk, peeping a weak, “no… but are you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, chuckling as he raises a brow at you, “but it’s okay if you are. I don’t judge.”

And it’s true. As much as he resembles those judgemental playboys you’ve had the unfortunate opportunity to cross paths with, you know Jungkook isn’t anything like them. He probably wouldn’t judge you and he probably wouldn’t even remember this insignificant fact about you come next week, but that doesn’t mean you want to be seen as an innocent, dainty nerd cooped up at home. 

Not that it’s a bad thing because that’s exactly what you are. 

Him and his lack of anime knowledge, on the other hand, is less than surprising. In fact, you wouldn’t even bat an eye if this man were to have gotten around with the ladies on several one night stands or two. He has the devilish charms and anyone who has the chance to sleep with him must have been an equally admirable beauty. 

“I’m not,” you lie with a wide grin that says otherwise, “I swear.”

“You sure, Y/N?” he reciprocates your upturned lips with an element of tease sprinkled on top. “I’d accept you either way.” 

“Okay, well, if you’re not a weeb, then you must be implying that you’re quite experienced yourself?” you declare with your chin held high until a look of horror for overstepping into the T.M.I. territory dawns upon you when he backs up only to challenge you with that smuggish stare of his that tells you all you need to know. “F-forget—”

“—one double cheeseburger with fries on the side,” the cafeteria lady calls out, as if to your aid, and you hastily shuffle to the cashier. “Anything for you, ma’am?” 

“No, I’m good. I’m just paying for him,” you smile in response, rummaging through your purse and swearing that you had certainly grabbed your wallet this morning. You could practically feel Jungkook staring over your shoulder and into the abyss that is your mess of a purse, each tick of the clock shooting your anxiety at an all time high until you turn to shoo Jungkook away. “You can grab some utensils and head off first. I’ll join you later.” 

Nothing you’ve been saying and feeling ever align nowadays; because here you are, suggesting for him to depart only to feel the sink of your heavy heart when he grabs his plate of food and does exactly as you advise him to. Not only were you easily let off by the man you were spotting for, but you were also struggling to find your wallet to pull through with said favor. You must have seemed pitiful to the lady who pays witness to the sullen look that befalls your face. 

“Is that lovely gentleman yours?” she asks when you fumble with your card and you look up to finally recognize her as one of the chattiest workers in your company’s cafeteria. 

“Oh,” you shake your head,” no. He’s just my colleague.” 

“Well, if you’re interested in him, it’s best not to keep him waiting,” she remarks, tilting her head in the direction where Jungkook had left when you answer her with a confused silence. 

“Wh—”

“—Y/NNNN,” he drawls, calling out to you with his hands occupied with a plate in one and two forks in the other, “let’s go.” 

“I did tell him to go first, didn’t I?” you subconsciously utter aloud to yourself.

“You did, but you certainly didn’t mean it, did you?” she roars into laughter. “He’s not too bad of a man, himself. You two would make a good pair.” 

“...right,” you mutter until you realize what you had said, turning to blurt, “wait, we aren’t dating—”

“—Y/NNNN,” Jungkook calls out once again. 

The boy who had no qualms with abandoning you when you bumped into Jimin is now waiting for you to return to his side, even if he has no obligation nor patience to. Something about the way he drawls, the way he calls out to you impatiently but still remaining fixated to the side of the cafeteria where he awaits your return, has you elated and reminiscing for many more nights to come. 

“Okay, okay!” you can’t help but cackle, grabbing your wallet and running off to join him at the other side of the room; and when you finally join him by the rightful spot beside his right elbow, the two of you begin your stroll through the streets by the bridge of your apartment. “I told you you could leave first—”

“—want some?” he asks, even though he’s already stuffed a piece of french fry into your mouth. 

“No,” you frown, even as you chew away, “I’m not supposed to be eating so late.”

“Why? You on a diet?” 

“Yeah,” you purse your lips ashamedly, “I’ve been eating too much.” 

“I can tell,” he says after taking a gander at you up and down, chuckling when you gawk at him in full offence. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you cross your arms over your puffed chest, “whatever.”

“Oh c’mon,” he chuckles when you give him the silent treatment, “...Y/NNNN.”

Damn it. There must be something about the way he calls out your name that weakens you to your core, because there’s nothing you could do about the grin that cracks your frown...

“Y/N…” he nudges you with his elbow, skin grazing against yours, “you want some more?”

“...maybe.”

...and in retrospect, months later down the road, there’s nothing you could wish for more than for him to call out to you like he did on this very night. 

[pawprintsmoon]

You and me, Part III

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30337365/chapters/74893146#workskin

The proposal

After a shower and clean pajamas, Alex finished packing his suitcase, tucking the ring safely inside. The next morning, he was so focused on not losing it again that he ended up misplacing his coffee filled travel mug. He had put it down for one second, and suddenly it was nowhere to be seen. Henry found it in minutes and they left for the airport. Distracted beyond reason, Alex had to hop out of the car to race back inside to grab his wallet. Then he had to hop out of the car again to run inside and get his phone.

After speeding to the JFK airport, they crossed the Atlantic and spent one night in Kensington recovering from jet lag. They spent their first full day at a trans* equity conference. The English press greeted their visiting prince with union jacks and rainbows. Naturally, they responded with charming comments and smiling photos. Alex took the opportunity to livestream a message to his followers: ‘of course transgender high schoolers should be allowed on the sports team that aligns with their gender, and here’s why…’

Privately, in the car back to the palace, Henry expressed the opinion that public schools ought to have polo teams, because it’s a coed sport and ideal for nonbinary teens who don’t like to rock the boat. Alex responded with similar sentiments about quidditch. The rest of the drive they shared a familiar rant about how Harry Potter belongs to the fans (including the trans* fans) and not only to JKR.

That night, just past 2am, Alex turned over in bed to ask, “You awake?”

“Always.”

“Good. We’re going on a fieldtrip. Come on.” Alex pulled them both out of bed, and they got dressed, Alex swinging on his Gucci jacket. He would have worn a hoodie, the incognito uniform of the internationally recognizable, but tonight he didn’t want to hide himself. It was worth the risk. Besides, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore, did they? Old habits.

He led them out of the palace, down Prince Consort Road. He stopped for a selfie with the sign, because he really had wanted to last time. A second selfie included them both, looking goofy and not caring. When they reached the back entrance of the Victoria and Albert Museum, they kissed lazily against the wall. Once Henry’s lips melted Alex’s nerves, he drew back to take the next step.

“Thing about dating the prince,” he said, holding up keys, “is that you can borrow pretty much anything he owns. And he can get the keys to anywhere if he asks nicely.”

“You’re a thief,” snarked Henry, walking through the door that Alex held open for him. “And a knave, and a scoundrel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex gave the security guard a wad of cash. “Thanks, Gavin. It’ll be Renaissance City.”

They walked past sculptures, artifacts, and paintings, surrounded by the history that they were a part of. They got to the piazza, Henry’s sacred place. Just like last time, the first statue, Samson Slaying a Philistine took away what little breath Alex had, and he had to lean on Henry for support. Like windswept magnets, their lips met, for no reason at all.

Most of the time, Alex had a strong sense of Henry and himself being part of the current moment of history, changing the world in the here and now. But right then, time seemed to melt, and they were surrounded by historical sculptures telling timeless stories. Zephyr the Greek god of the west wind, Proserpina in the underworld, and Jason and his golden fleece. Archetypical and expansive.

And then there was Henry: the national gay landmark, prince charming, an obtuse fucking asshole. Hopefully his future husband. Sticking with his plan, he pulled away from Henry and got out his phone to open Spotify. Taking a deep breath, he pressed play. “Your Song” came from the tinny speakers.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

“Why am I getting deja vu?” Henry asked, as Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist.

“No clue.”

They began to sway, slow and intimate, cheek to cheek. He recognized the swelling in his chest as the same ache he’d felt when Henry first played this song for him years ago in the music parlor. Back then, he’d been trying so hard to repress his love for Henry, gripping the settee and wondering how long they would fly across the world to touch each other without talking about it. Now they let love dance around them, unbridled and openly declared in front of the world.

Other memories stirred up unbidden. Henry ghosting him after their first kiss, leaving him out in the snow and questioning everything. And then again when Alex hinted at love, leaving him in the lake with his heart carved out. Twice is not a pattern though, is it. Ever since the last time they were in this museum together, Henry had given his entire self to Alex. He had decided to be with Alex for real that night. That had been when they decided to love each other on purpose.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

For several beats of silence, he just looked at Henry. And Henry looked at him, and the museum disappeared. The whole world faded away except Henry and himself. It was now. He knelt down to one knee slowly, never losing eye contact. Henry’s loving smile showed no surprise as Alex spoke.

“Henry George Edward James Fox-Mounchristen-Windsor,” he said, making Henry roll his eyes. “I have a question to ask you. You see, my mom asked me, back in our early days, if I felt forever about you. I knew it then, and I know it now. I want to spend my life with you. So... ”

He paused, reached into his jacket, and pulled out the bedazzled box, rhinestones spelling out ‘love.’ Henry had probably guessed that it was never intended for June’s earrings, because he laughed like the box was an inside joke. Despite knowing what was coming, he inhaled audibly when Alex opened the box to reveal a simple silver ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Henry laughed again, a laugh like the birds of sunrise. “Yes, Alex. I will marry you.”

The prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box, the same size as the one Alex held. Then, he knelt down on one knee as well, mirroring his fiancé. He opened it to reveal a thick antique gold ring inlaid with a gem that Alex couldn’t identify. Beautiful. “Alex Claremont-Diaz, will you spend forever with me as your partner, confidant, and best friend?”

“I,” Alex choked, “yeah, fuck, of course-”

Henry cut him off with a swift and passionate kiss, both of them on their knees, fumbling the engagement rings onto their fingers. Alex felt like the deceased king that had probably worn his engagement ring. They kissed until their knees grew sore, and they collapsed on the tile.

“How did you think to bring a ring and everything?”

“Believe it or not, I somehow predicted that you might do this,” Henry teased.

Their buzzing bodies urged them to get back to the palace, to Henry’s room, to the bed. So they pulled each other to their feet, both dizzy and desperate. Before leaving the piazza they held each other for just a little longer.

“I love you,” whispered Henry.

“Fuck, I know you do.” It’s an amazing thing, to know completely and utterly that somebody loves you. “I love you too.”

“I know.” Henry held him around the waist and their foreheads pressed together. “Hey, so, I know we’re going to have to have a big, gay, traditional, royal wedding and all that -”

“Which we’ll make fun!” Alex said, with the positivity of a camp counselor. The world could really benefit from a big, gay, royal wedding. “There will be so many rainbows, even only if the crowd brings them.”

“And we’ll definitely have an adequate number of champagne fountains.” Henry winked at him. “But you interrupted-”

“Sorry!”

“-me. I was saying that I know we’re doing the public wedding for the audience, and the press, but...” Suddenly Henry looked nervous. “Well, would you maybe want to…”

“Spit it out babe,” Alex kissed Henry lightly on the lips before pulling back to show that Henry had his entire attention. “I’m listening, for real.”

“Would you, would you maybe want to elope first?”

“I… um. Would we, you know, still do the royal wedding afterwards?” Alex asked. “Keep it a secret?”

“Well, yes.” The words tumbled out. “But it would be a secret that we’re keeping for ourselves. We wouldn’t be keeping a secret for an election, or family expectations, or our god damned publicists. It would be ours, and we would keep it because we want to.

“Because I want to keep you to myself, just a little bit.” Henry shrugged, sheepish. “You give so much of yourself to your country, to the world, and I love that about you, but I want this to be just us. I’d be open to inviting Bea, Pez, June, and Nora, and our parents too, if you want.”

“And honestly, I don’t really want there to be a minister or priest… maybe Pez could do it?” Henry continued. “It doesn’t even have to be legal, so people don’t find out. I don’t know, I just thought, it could be just us, making a promise. Not with the crown, not with the church, not with all your adoring fans. Just the people that really matter.”

“I…” A grin spread slowly across Alex’s face. “I love it. Yes. Hell yes. Where? Not Vegas. Paris?”

“Paris.” Relief sweetened Henry’s smile. “And I could play my vows for you on the piano, if you’d like.”

“Yes I’d like! We could do it on a sailboat with a captain! Can you bring a piano on a sailboat?” Henry shook his head and kissed Alex’s grin, nuzzling their noses together. Alex whispered, “Okay, I’ll slow down and we can figure it out together. You and me.”

“You and me.” They fell into each other, a blissful act of entropy, all lips and hands.

“Besides,” Alex said as they stopped to catch their breath. “Secrets can be kind of hot if I remember correctly.”

AN: So, I thought I'd end with the proposal, but I feel like there's maybe more here? Like, this scene was kinda building up to some 'just got engaged' smut, or it could go on to show their elopement. I'm feeling a tinsy bit uninspired for their vows though, so if any of y'all feel like writing those, I could insert to the rest of the marriage scene that could be fun. If anyone feels like doing the post-proposal smut (or the wedding night smut lol) lemme know! Otherwise, thank you for reading! Check out my other rwrb fics, if you feel like it :)

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you.