#if I was to design them from scratch they’d look quite different I imagine

[abby-wolf]

miscellaneous tribe doodles

[when-i-was-your-angel]

A Favor

James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

5,584 words

Y/N, the Avengers resident seamstress, tailors a suit for Bucky. She cashes in her favor.

NSFW: Virginity Loss, Virginity Loss as a favor, Minor Alcohol Use, Lingerie, Fingering, Oral female receiving, oral male receiving, facefucking, deepthroating, praise kink, missionary, Bucky’s metal arm, curvy reader, minor insecure reader, body worship, hickeys, angst, fluff, smut, hurt comfort ending.

   Six months ago Bucky Barnes needed help. He couldn’t find a suit that fit right around his arm and having one tailored by a stranger was too uncomfortable. So, he approached Y/N. As the team’s resident seamstress, he had grown used to Y/N’s gentle hands and soft touches while she worked on various aspects of his tactical gear. This was different, though. This wasn’t work. This was a favor. Friends do favors. Bucky didn’t have friends. Especially not really pretty soft-spoken friends. But, Stark insisted he have a nice suit for some gala, so he asked.     

     Y/N had immediately accepted, saying it was no problem. It really wasn’t. Tailoring was her job after all. His suit ended up looking phenomenal and Bucky got quite a few compliments, making sure to tell everyone who designed his sleek black suit. Bucky offered to pay her but she refused. Bucky insisted on doing something to pay her back. They ended up agreeing that he owed her a favor.

       Over the time she was tailoring him, they grew close. Y/N and Bucky were unlikely friends, but they quickly became the best of them. Bucky would bring her lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he had nightmares he’d call her and they’d talk for hours, he brought her coffee in the mornings, and she brought him freshly made gloves every time he tore his open. They were just perfect for each other. Best friends and nothing more.

    Now, six months past the gala, Y/N has decided to cash in her favor. She’s pacing her small apartment. Her faded blue jeans hugged her hips as she walked and her blouse was unbuttoned slightly more than what would be considered professional. It was seven in the evening, Y/N had just arrived home from work. She had made plans with Bucky a week ago and he would be arriving any minute. She was in the middle of pouring herself a glass of wine when a knock came at the door. Y/N rushed over to it, smoothed her hair down, and opened the door.

    Bucky looked amazing. Dressed in dark jeans and that black fucking tee shirt. He had on his leather jacket and glove, but she knew he would take those off once inside.

    “Come in.” Y/N moved aside to allow him access and he smiled, taking his jacket off and putting it on her coat rack. His hair had grown out slightly, no longer trimmed close to the scalp. The realization made Y/N squeeze her thighs together in anticipation.

    “You want anything to drink?” Y/N asked, retreating to her kitchen to fetch her abandoned glass of white wine.

    “Water would be nice.” Bucky sat on her couch, waiting for her to return. Y/N made him a glass of water just how he liked it. Cool water from the fridge with no ice. He always said the cold hurt his teeth, but she knew he hated the way the cold glass felt on his metal hand.

    Y/N returned to the couch, sitting on the opposite end and tucking her legs underneath herself. She offered him his glass of water which he took with a muttered thank you.

    “So, what’s this about?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his water. His left arm was draped around the back of the couch, his right arm in his lap holding his water. He had his left leg half-crossed over his right. He looked good. Casual. Like he belonged in the space.

    “I wanted to cash in my favor.” Y/N couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued to her hands in her lap. “For tailoring your suit.”

    “What, six months of the pleasure of my company wasn’t enough?” Bucky gave her a smile to try and lighten the mood but when he saw the look on her face he quickly grew serious.

    “What’s up, doll? Talk to me.” Bucky leaned forward and set a hand on her knee. Y/N looked down at his hand, then at his stark blue eyes, and took a large gulp of her wine.

    “Ok. So uh… the thing is... “ Y/N mumbled and trailed off, nervous beyond all belief.

    “Do you need money? Is Stark not paying you enough?” After she shook her head, Bucky spoke again. “What is it then?”

    “I- I need you to have sex with me.” Y/N said, looking up to meet his eyes. Bucky’s face was completely neutral. Not neutral- frozen, Y/N realized.

    “I know it’s totally unfair to ask this of you but please, just listen.” Bucky gave her a barely perceptible nod.

    “When I was in high school, I did everything right. I didn’t date, I didn’t party, I studied. That’s it. Then college came around and I couldn’t let loose like I wanted to. Studying and working was just too ingrained in me. So, I’ve never…” She trailed off, hoping Bucky would understand.

     “Never what?” With anyone else, Y/N would’ve thought they were messing with her. But Bucky had said it himself, he couldn’t lie to her. His face was genuine.

     “Never had sex, Buck.” Y/N looked down at her hands, picking at her fingernails.

     “You mean you’re a-”

     “Yeah.”

     “And you want me to-”

     “There’s no one I trust more than you.” Y/N met his eyes and saw the internal battle in them. He wanted to be there for her, but he didn’t trust himself. He eventually broke the thick silence to ask her a question.

     “But, you’re twenty-two. How have you never had sex?” Bucky brought a hand to rest on his jaw, looking like he was solving a puzzle.

     “I’ve gotten close. My ex-boyfriend he uh- he tried a few times. But it never felt right. It felt gross and I was so nervous I wanted to puke. After I wouldn’t put out, he dumped me.” Y/N tucked her knees under his chin, curling into herself.

     “Matt?” She nodded. “I knew he was a scumbag.” Bucky sat forward and took his head in his hands, running his hands through his hair.

     “Why does it have to be me, again?” Bucky asked, still staring at the floor.

     “Because I trust you more than anyone else. Because I know you won’t let things get weird between us.” Bucky looked up at her and smirked.

     “I hoped my charming nature might’ve played into it a bit.” He gave Y/N his signature shit-talking grin. She rolled her eyes and kicked him lightly. After a few seconds the air turned heavy between them.

     “You don’t have to. I won’t be mad or anything. I just-” She sighed. “I don’t want it to be some one night stand with a guy I’ve never met. I know it’s stupid but I-”

     “It’s not stupid. I understand.” Bucky turned to face her and took her hand in his.

     “You trust me?” He asked, his blue eyes piercing her hazel ones.

     “Yes.” She answered honestly.

     “Ok.”

     “Ok? Does that mean yes?” Bucky laughed softly at that.

     “Yeah, yeah. You’ve convinced me. Let me go freshen up, hm?” Y/N gave him a smile and a nod. “Be right back, doll.” Bucky stood up with a disbelieving shake of his head and walked to Y/N’s bathroom.

     Y/N took a deep breath and threw her hand to her face. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, searing her hand. She reached for her wine, forgotten on the coffee table, and downed the rest of the glass. God knows she needed liquid courage.

    Bucky returned and Y/N only stared at him as he approached. Her eyes wide in anticipation. Bucky stopped inches in front of her and offered his hand.

    “I ain’t taking you on the couch, doll.” Bucky said in his smooth voice. The words combined with the tone had her clenching her thighs, something that didn’t go unnoticed. He gave a small smirk as she took his hand and let him lead her to her bedroom. Once inside the room, he motioned for her to sit on the bed and she did so. He kneeled in front of her and took her hands in his.

    “You sure about this, sweetheart?” Bucky was incredibly kind in his words, making sure she was positive.

    “You’re only making me more sure, Buck.” Y/N smiled at him and couldn’t help her eyes glancing down at his lips. They were so close to hers. She looked back to his eyes and saw that they were on her lips.

    “Can I kiss you?” His voice was quiet and low as his breath fanned across her lips. She nodded and brought a hand to his jaw as he leaned in. The first kiss they shared was short. Barely three seconds. But when Bucky pulled away and saw her eyes half-closed and pupils blown wide, he went back for more. Their lips crashed together and all Y/N could think about was how soft he was. The pink lips on hers felt like pillows, the hands on her knees felt like clouds. His hands travelled her denim-clad thighs and reached her round hips. Bucky gave an experimental squeeze, eliciting a moan from Y/N. Bucky smiled into the kiss.

    Y/N ran her hands into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. Bucky groaned and pulled away slightly, only to move his lips to her neck. He left small love bites, soothing the bruised flesh with his tongue. Y/N whimpered and gasped as he worked.

    “Sensitive there, doll?” Bucky whispered against her skin. She could only nod, lost in him. He chuckled and pulled away, tugging at her shirt in silent question. She leaned back and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing baby blue lingerie. A laced corset accentuated her full breasts. There were lacy straps descending into her jeans, leaving just enough to the imagination. Bucky’s eyes travelled her form greedily. His hands came to rest on her waist, thumbs caressing the thin fabric.

    “Christ, Y/N. You’re gonna kill me.” Bucky pushed his lips into hers again letting his hands roam her figure freely now.

    “You next.” Y/N said between kisses as she pulled on his shirt. Bucky separated from her to pull his black tee shirt off.

    “Don’t expect anything lacy, doll.” Bucky gave her a minute to catch a breath. Her eyes roamed his form. She brought her hands to his chest and let her fingernails scratch over his abs gently. Bucky gave a low groan in his throat and covered her hands with his.

    “Baby… Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.” Bucky met her eyes to gauge her reaction.

    “Who says I’m not going to finish? I fully plan on finishing.” Y/N gave him a smirk and scratched her hands on his chest again.

    “Fuck, you asked for it.” Bucky groaned and pounced on her. Her back hit the bed and he leaned over her, caging her between his arms. She arched her hips into his and felt his erection even through both of their jeans.

    “Too many layers. Need to- need to feel you.” Y/N spoke between kisses. Bucky nodded and started kissing her neck again, trailing his tongue down the exposed skin. He left open mouthed kisses on her stomach through the lace of her lingerie. He popped the button on her jeans and pulled the zipper down, slowly dragging the denim down her thighs. Once they were off her long legs, he saw the continuance of her lingerie.

   Baby blue garters were strapped to her thighs, connected to crotchless panties. Glistening folds peaked out from behind the lacy material. He let out a sigh at the sight. Bucky tripped trying to rid himself of his own jeans, making Y/N giggle. His eyes snapped back to hers, amusement dancing in the blue.

   “What’s so funny, babydoll?” He crawled over her again, his black boxers the only thing left restraining his aching cock. She looked up at him with a ditzy smile on her face.

   “You’re a super soldier and you’re a-” Her words were cut off by a moan as Bucky’s right hand swiped through her folds, gathering her wetness on his fingers.

   “What was that, doll? You were saying?” He smirked at her as his fingers toyed with her clit. She only whined and moved her hips, rutting against his hand. Bucky looked down at her heat then back to her face, lost in pleasure.

   “Shit, baby. You fucking my hand?” Y/N nodded as a red blush came to her cheeks. Bucky leaned in to kiss her neck some more, letting her get herself off on his hand. She whimpered something he couldn’t quite hear.

   “Hm?” He pulled away from her neck, a goofy smile on his face, feeling drunk on her skin.

   “Said more, Buck. Please.” Her eyes opened to meet his, pleading want showing in the hazel hue. Bucky smiled and nodded, kissing down her body once again. Seeing where he was going, Y/N spoke.

   “You don’t have to- oh. Oh.” Her hands flew to the sheets as Bucky’s tongue slipped through her folds. Bucky sat up and pulled her hands to his hair, encouraging her to pull on it. He returned to her cunt and lapped at her clit. Y/N shivered underneath his touch. All the things he was doing were new experiences for her and Bucky was making sure they were all amazing. His tongue moved down to her hole, prodding at the entrance gently. He hooked her thighs over his shoulders and brought a thumb to her clit, rubbing small circles.

   “Bucky…” Various expletives and combinations of his name fell from Y/N’s lips as Bucky worked. “Bucky, your fingers. Please.” Y/N’s light gasp filled the air. Bucky nodded against her and brought his flesh hand up to tease her slit. Y/N caught the hand in her own and shook her head.

   “I want…” She trailed off, the embarrassment too much.

   “Want what, doll?” Bucky left small kisses on her thighs in reassurance.

   “I want the metal one.” Bucky’s eyes went wide at her words.

   “You- you want this? This turns you on?” He held up his hand, black and gold shimmering in the dull light of her bedroom. He had a look of pure confusion on his face. His hand was not something to be used here, with her. It was hard and cold and unforgiving, all things she was not. “Are you sure-”

   Bucky’s words were cut off as Y/N took his metal hand and lifted his index finger to her mouth, wrapping her swollen lips around it. She took the finger into the base, letting the tip hit the back of her throat. She coated it with her saliva and as she pulled it away there was a trail of wetness leading to her mouth.

   “Fuck… Christ, Y/N. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He pulled his metal finger from her grip and brought it to her heat, teasing the entrance with the first knuckle. She shivered and arched her back into his touch, trying to get more of him inside her. He slowly pushed the black and gold finger in, curling it experimentally. Y/N let out a pornographic moan when his finger brushed one particular spot. Bucky smirked.

    “Found you.”

    He brought his lips back to her clit, alternating between short licks and sucking the bud into his mouth. His finger maintained a steady pulse, hitting her G-spot with every movement. He could feel her clenching around his finger, her pussy pulling him in further.

   “You gonna cum, baby?” Bucky asked quickly, not wanting to take his mouth from her sweetness for any elongated time.

   “Yes, Bucky, Please, I’m so close.” She gripped his hair, pulling on it as she had imagined doing earlier.

   “Cum for me, doll. Cum all over my fucking metal hand.” The gentle vibrations of Bucky’s voice and the reminder of what exactly was making her feel so good sent her careening over the edge, holding onto his hair to keep her grounded in her body.

   “Bucky! Fuck, yes. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Her hips moved against his face, prolonging her orgasm. Bucky moaned into her center, enjoying the view of a beautiful girl in blue lingerie riding his face. When her hips stilled and her breath slowed, Bucky pulled away, his face covered in her slick. A blush came over her face at the sight.

   “You embarrassed?” Bucky asked her, coming to crawl over her again. She nodded briefly.

  “Don’t be. C’mere, baby. Taste yourself. Fucking delicious.” He pulled her to him by the neckline of her corset, crashing their lips together. She licked at his lips and he moaned at the feeling. Y/N pulled away and looked up at him with her swollen lips and darkened eyes. Bucky knew she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He pulled the straps of the garters away from her body and let them snap back against her soft skin.

   “This needs to go.” Y/N hummed in agreement and looked at him mischievously. She hooked her leg under his and flipped them so he was on his back. His eyes widened in wonder and confusion, silently asking for an explanation.

   “Nat.”

   “Of course.”

   Y/N climbed off him and began pulling the various straps off her body. Slowly and teasingly, she became more exposed to him. Bucky palmed himself through his boxers as he watched, letting out small gasps every time a new segment of skin was unveiled. When she had taken the garters off, the only thing left was the corset. She reached behind her to unclip the buttons and let the garment fall to the ground. Bucky’s mouth dropped open as her breasts were finally revealed. She brought her arms to cover her chest, embarrassed. His gaze darkened and he reached his hands out, beckoning her to him. She climbed into his lap and his hands came to rest on the small of her back. He took her hands and guided them away from her chest.

   “Baby, shit, why’re you hiding these?” Bucky’s hands ghosted around the sides of her heavy breasts.

   “I don’t like them.” Y/N admitted honestly. Bucky’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped in disbelief.

   “Y/N, believe me when I say, these are the best damn tits I’ve ever seen. Fucking beautiful.” Bucky leaned forward and captured a nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around the nub. Y/N gasped as his metal hand came up to the other nipple, the contrast between his hot, soft, wet, mouth and his cold, hard, hand making her head spin.

  He pulled away from her to admire his handiwork. Red bruises on and surrounding her nipples.

  “Why don’t you like them?” He looked up to meet her eyes, a softness in them she didn’t get to see often.

  “The stretch marks…” Y/N looked down at her hands. Bucky pulled her chin up with his finger, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  “Baby. Do you realize who you’re talking to? Look.” He guided her hand to his left shoulder, shivering as her fingers ran over the scarred flesh.

  “I could give a shit less what scars you have. It just proves you’re strong. That you fought a battle and came out the other side. You’re beautiful.” Bucky raised himself up to press a kiss to her lips. Y/N smiled and shook her head, a blush covering her face. Bucky didn’t know how to convince her.

  “Let me prove it to you.” Y/N looked down at him. Bucky looked at her with earnest eyes. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.” Y/N was shocked at his gentleness. She had expected him to just have sex with her. She hadn’t predicted this level of intimacy. It was surprisingly… nice.

   “Ok.” Y/N said simply.

   “Ok? Gonna need something a little more enthusiastic than that, sweetheart.” Bucky’s words were teasing but she knew he was yet again making sure she was okay with this.

   Y/N threw her head back dramatically and exclaimed: “Take me! Take me and have your savage way with me!” Bucky roared with laughter and flipped her onto her back, kissing her lips gently.

   “That’ll do, doll.” Bucky kissed her neck gently and stood up.

   “Wait- what’re you doing?” Y/N asked. Bucky turned back to look at her, a bashful expression on his face.

   “I uh- I need a condom, doll. Unless you want a little me running around here.” Y/N let out a light laugh at the image. But something about the idea of a kid with Bucky’s eyes and her smile made her heart ache.

   “I mean, I’m on birth control. And I’m clean…” Bucky looks down at his hands. There was something more intimate about what she was asking him to do.

   “Yeah, me too. The serum it uh, keeps us from getting any diseases. STDs included. Lucky me, right?” Bucky gave a dry laugh and started walking back towards the bed. They were both suddenly a bit nervous. Y/N stood and took his hand, turning him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. When she got on her knees in front of him, Bucky held out a hand to stop her.

   “You don’t need to-” Y/N gripped him through his boxers.

   “This is a learning experience right? Teach me how to do this too. For-” She took an uneasy pause. “For whoever comes next. Can’t be giving my first BJ to a stranger.” Bucky looked saddened by that. Whatever glimmer of emotion she thought she saw disappeared and he quickly reverted back to his normal self.

   “Yeah. Wouldn’t want that, hm?” Y/N looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes went from his boxers and back to his eyes.

   “Oh- right.” Bucky lifted his hips off the bed and slid his boxers off. His cock was at half-mast but was still shockingly large. Y/N’s eyes went wide. Gone were the nerves of a second ago. This was no longer present day Bucky, this was 40’s Bucky with all the swagger and charisma of a dashing young military sergeant.

    “Like what you see, doll?” Y/N rolled her eyes and looked up at him, awaiting instruction.

    “Ok, first, you’re gonna spit on your hand. Then start stroking.” Y/N obeyed. Bucky let out a loud hiss when her lubed hand touched his bare cock for the first time. She moved her hand up and down his shaft, twisting it slightly like she had seen in porn.

    “Fuck, sweetie. Just like that. Now, uh, lick the tip.” Bucky was already out of breath and Y/N decided she loved this. Loved seeing him come apart for her. Y/N leaned forward and placed an open mouthed kiss on the red tip. Bucky’s hips jutted into her mouth as he moaned.

    “Shit, sorry. Dunno what’s gotten into me.” Bucky looked down at her. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips were red and swollen, her neck was covered in marks that he had left… He knew exactly what had gotten into him. He just didn’t have the nerve to say it. It was times like these that Bucky Barnes really wished he could get drunk.

    Y/N kept stroking his cock as she pulled away to speak.

   “It’s okay. It was kind of hot.” She looked at him from under her thick eyelashes.

   “Yeah? You want me to do it again?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

   “Please.” Y/N replied.

   Bucky groaned and brought his hips a little closer to the edge of the bed.

   “You’re going to let me know if it gets too much at any time, alright?” Y/N nodded.

   “Open your mouth, doll.” Y/N did, opening as wide as she could to prepare for his girth. Bucky slid his cock into her mouth. “Breathe through- shit. Breathe through your nose, sweetheart. Relax your throat.” Y/N tried her best to obey his commands, sitting back on her heels to allow him to take full control. Bucky brought a hand to the back of her head, gathering her hair before starting to gently thrust into her mouth.

   “Fuck, baby. Feels so fucking good.” He looked down to see her staring up at him but the biggest shock was her hand between her thighs.

   “Are you- shit, are you touching yourself, doll?” She batted her eyelashes as if to say “What does it look like?” and he chuckled.

   “You look so good like this, baby. On your knees for me. Sucking- shit- sucking my cock like you were born to do it.” Bucky’s filthy words drew a moan from Y/N, sending vibrations through his cock. “Fuck! Oh- baby. Oh, god. This is gonna end a lot sooner than I’d like if we don’t stop.” Y/N made no move to pull away from him, continuing to let him fuck her throat.

   “Oh, is that what you want, hm? Want me to cum down that pretty throat of yours?” Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as another moan escaped her. A shiver ran through Bucky’s body but he tapped her on the cheek. “Nuh-uh, babydoll. Wanna see those eyes. Those fucking eyes.” Y/N batted her eyelashes and moaned again. Bucky pulled out of her mouth suddenly. She pouted at him.

   “Doll- if I hadn’t stopped, I wouldn’t get to fuck you. That’s the whole point, right?” Bucky took her hand and pulled her to standing so he could kiss her. He pulled away so he could see her eyes flutter open, dizzy on him. “Those fucking eyes.” Bucky said with a smirk before picking her up and setting on the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and shivered when she felt his hot length on her thigh. Bucky looked at her one last time.

   “You sure, doll? I want this too, but I’ll go home with some major fucking blue balls if you’ve changed your mind.” Y/N threw her head back and laughed. Bucky only watched her, a soft smile coming across his face. How had he never noticed how beautiful her laugh was before?

   “I’m sure, Buck.” Y/N arched upwards to press a kiss to his lips.

   “Alright, then. What the lady wants…” Bucky reached between them and gripped his cock. He slid it through her folds a few times, gathering her wetness. Then he slowly pushed inside her with a loud groan from each of them. Bucky watched her face to gauge her reaction. A mix of pain and discomfort was painted on her features and it killed him. He hated hurting her but this is what she asked for. He continued pushing into her, inch by inch, trying to control his hips and keep from rutting into her. After a minute of tortuously slow moving, he bottomed out. A few tears had escaped Y/N’s eyes and he leaned down to kiss them off her cheek. Slowly, the look of pain disappeared from Y/N’s face.

   “Bucky-”

   “Yeah, doll?”

   “Please, move.”

   That was all it took to shatter his resolve. Bucky pulled out as much as she allowed him to, her pussy gripping him like a vice. He thrusted back into her warm depths, sighing at how well she took him.

   “So fucking tight, doll. Feels fucking heavenly.” Bucky’s fists tensed in the sheets beside her when she clenched around him.

   “Shit- oh. Someone has a praise kink.” Bucky muttered under his breath. Y/N nodded in desperation to hear him talk again.

   “You want me to keep talking? You like it when I talk to you, baby? Tell you how good you feel? How well you’re taking my cock?” Y/N shivered and her walls tightened around him.

   “Fuck, baby. You keep that up I’m not gonna last long.” Bucky propped himself up on his metal arm and reached his flesh one between their bodies, sticky with sweat. He rubbed gently at her clit as he thrusted, trying to time the rhythms together. Y/N cried out in pleasure, the sound music to Bucky’s ears.

   “Are you gonna cum, doll? Be a good girl and cum on my cock, yeah? Bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum for me.” Bucky kissed her neck sloppily, biting slightly on her pulse point. Bucky’s words and the new sensation sent her over the edge. Y/N’s hands gripped her pillow as Bucky sat back to look at her. She was beautiful as she came undone on his cock. She looked majestic. Holy. Like a goddess he’d get on his knees and pray to or a queen he’d serve until his dying breath.

   “Bucky, oh- baby. Just like- Oh-” Y/N shivered as her orgasm wrecked her, every thrust of Bucky’s hips prolonging the sensation. Bucky took in her post-orgasmic state.

   She was a mess. Her tits were sweaty and shiny as they bounced in the dull light of her bedroom. Her neck was covered in a smattering or bruises. She seemed to notice his gaze because she reached for him, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him roughly. She looked down to where their bodies met. Bucky’s eyes followed her own and he moaned in absolute delight at the scene. He closed his eyes quickly out of reflex. Protect himself. Protect Y/N. Don’t lose control. Y/N placed a gentle kiss on his nose and his eyes snapped open to meet hers.

   “Let go.” That simple sentence gave Bucky a gentle push over the edge and then he was falling. Not a hard fall with an ending that would leave him mentally unstable and minus an arm, but more of a pleasant roller coaster drop. He felt safe in her arms as he let go, shooting ropes of white cum inside her.

   “Y/N- fucking hell. Baby- So fucking good.” Bucky was very vocal as his hips slowed to a stop. His cock twitched from the oversensitivity. He knew he’d have to pull out eventually, but he wasn’t in any hurry. She was wet and warm and inviting and the world outside her bedroom was cold and cruel and unforgiving. Bucky knew he’d stay there forever if she let him.

   But that’s not what he was here for. Not for life, not even for the night. Just for an hour. Just until she’d had her cherry popped and she’d send him on his way like some kind of sick business deal. With great effort, Bucky convinced his body to pull from her soft depths, smearing cum and slick down her thighs. He stood and began gathering his clothes.

   “What- what’re you doing?” Bucky looked back at Y/N. She had her knees tucked into her chest and was staring up at him with those fucking eyes.

   “I’m leaving.” Y/N’s eyes drooped at his words.

   “Oh.”

   Bucky pulled on his boxers and elected to get changed out of her view- the harsh stare on his back was getting to be too much. He had his hand on the doorknob when she spoke.

   “Please- please don’t go.” This time when Bucky looked at Y/N, her eyes were rimmed with tears. He dropped his clothes and ran to her, cradling her face.

   “Why’re you crying, babydoll? What’s wrong?” His eyes sought hers, trying to understand what was happening behind them.

   “You were going to leave.” Y/N’s tears hadn’t fallen yet. She was always so strong. Bucky wished he knew how to make her feel safe enough to be weak.

   “I figured you’d want me to.” His thumb stroked her cheek.

   “No. I- I want you to stay. Please stay.” Y/N’s hands reached up and wrapped around his wrists, keeping them in place.

   “Then I’ll stay. I’ll stay, doll. Just please- don’t cry.” Bucky kissed her forehead and pulled her into his chest. If he felt a small wet spot growing where her head lay, he didn’t say anything.

   Eventually she pulled away from him. Y/N’s eyes met his and Bucky knew then- he was wrecked. Utterly, completely, wrecked.

   “Will you sleep with me?” She asked. He understood she meant sleep next to her in bed. Keep her warm with his touch and keep her mind calm with his presence. He nodded and she unravelled herself from his arms. She stood and tucked herself into her warm covers, beckoning for him to join her. Her body was naked still, but he didn’t care. Preferred it, actually. Not for any perverted reason. He had missed the feeling of warm flesh on his own. A body that wasn’t about to die underneath him. It was...nice.

  Bucky crawled into bed beside her, exposing his right side for her to cuddle into if she wished. She did. She laid her head on his shoulder and ran a hand up and down his stomach, tracing invisible patterns.

   “Thank you.” She said.

   “Anytime.”

   After a while, her breath evened out. He watched her back rise and fall. He knew he had to leave in the morning- but for now he’d allow himself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the smell of her shampoo and the way her heart beat in time with his.  

[juniorgman187]

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away.  Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere. 

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat. 

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for. 

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t. 

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her. 

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself. 

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went. 

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting. 

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her. 

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity. 

It was just plain concern. 

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case). 

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before. 

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.” 

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further. 

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation. 

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week. 

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month. 

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created. 

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother. 

And a damn good one at that. 

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception. 

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded. 

This would be our first flight without her. 

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.” 

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show. 

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek. 

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes. 

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.” 

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me. 

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly. 

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.” 

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant. 

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.” 

_ _ _

“Reid?” 

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought. 

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything. 

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her. 

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?” 

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.” 

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence. 

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently. 

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone. 

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.” 

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it. 

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now. 

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia. 

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia. 

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave. 

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave. 

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.  

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!” 

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year. 

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained. 

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.” 

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises. 

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever. 

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[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[thathelplesshomeschooler]

humans are space orcs (with magic!) *skillz to pay the billz pt 1*

5wow i have been gone for a hot minute but i think i’m gonna tryn write more on here, but school’s starting up again soon so we’ll see how that actually goes. anyway, without further ado, here is another short story or sum, based on how some people can cook, and how some absolutely cannot

also i had to resist so hard from writing that’s what she said at the end so i will have to console myself with writing it up here.

***

The VIV Narrtor was docked at a WayCenter Station for repairs after a gamma burst from a neutron star had fried nearly all the sensors. As it was the humans had decided to designated this as their “vacation” and had put their money together and were renting a small abode for the duration of the repairs. Not wanting to miss out on any possible research, Drerzii had insisted that he and Tygeria rent the room across the street from the humans. 

And so Tygeria found herself the windowsill with a pair of “binoculars” as the humans called it, in her hand. Currently the humans weren’t doing much, in fact it appeared that only one of them was up and active. Uhris, clad only in his undergarments, was in the sustenance preparation room, making ready the pot of dark, steaming liquid that the humans drank every morning. She and Drerzii had suspected it to be either some sort of religious ceremony or a necessity of their species, much like how the dular always had to eat from a plant native to their planet before they ate anything else or they would die. However, neither of them had mustered the courage to ask the humans. If it was indeed a private matter, it might not be appreciated if they suspected they were being studied so thoroughly. And an angry human was not something Tygeria wanted to see. 

As she observed, the rest of the humans slowly arose from their slumber, except for Taurus. Being the largest of them all, Tygeria suspected that he likely needed more rest than the rest of them in order to move his mass around. She noted her thoughts on a holotablet. 

When she resumed her observations, she noted that Uhris was preparing sustenance, and quite a large amount. He must be feeding the entire group. It was strange she thought, since his records didn’t indicate that he had been trained in sustenance preparation, but he seemed quite adept in his actions. Perhaps he had trained in secret, hoping one day to be employed as a sustenance prepare. These “chefs” apparently were quite coveted in any group. 

The group spent most of the morning hours indoors, but what they were doing exactly Tygeria couldn’t say exactly. They were certainly enjoying themselves at the very least. Around midday Uhris and Enara walked out of the building. Tygeria leaned forward, her interested piqued. “Drerzii, Drerzii! They’re headed this way.” Her carapace tingled with mixed fear and excitement. They’d been found out. Surely the humans would be angry at being spied on. Drerzii rose from his resting state. 

“My dear Tygeria, you surely must be mistaken. The humans-” He stopped as he peered out the window, “Oh. You’re quite right Tygeria. But do calm yourself, I doubt they mean us any harm. Likely their simply curious. Their species’ natural inclement is towards curiosity rather than violence; however, I suppose we should be prepared. There, I have a clear line of communication to command should anything happen.” 

Tygeria appreciated his actions, but her carapace still tingled. A minute later there was a knock on the door. She walked quickly across the room and opened the door. Uhris and Enara stood in the entryway. 

Uhris switched his hand from scratching the back of his head to giving them a little wave. “Uh hey. Anne pointed out that you guys were staying across the street from us, and we all agreed that we couldn’t just let you guys stay here.” It was exactly as Tygeria feared, the humans were angry about being spied on. Drerzii’s flashing colors echoed her fear. “So we- Drerzii you okay? You’re putting on a whole light show my dude.”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite fine. For the time being at least.”

“Erm, yeah, whatever that means. Anyway, we’re about to have lunch, so we wanted to know if you guys wanted to join us. We might do something later, but we haven’t decided what yet.”

Tygeria lowered her head so it was on eye-level with the human. It didn’t make much of a difference to her, what with her infrared vision, but apparently it was a human gesture. “You don’t intend us any harm?”

The two humans looked on in confusion. “N-no? I mean why would we want to hurt you? We just wanted to know if you wanted to eat with us, but if you don’t that’s fine too.”

Tygeria was taken aback. Did they not know? “Because we were obs-”

“Of course we would be delighted to enjoy you for a meal. I unfortunately am unable to consume at the current moment, but I would be delighted to participate in your fellowship.”

“Oh. Great, well you guys can head on over then. Enara and I are just going to get some groceries, but we’ll be back in just a few minutes. The door’s unlocked so just head right in”

And so the humans headed off toward the provisions center of the station while Tygeria and Drerzii made their way to the humans rooms. Upon entering the room they were met with ferocious laughter. The terrifying sound of mirth coming from all three of the humans. Taurus, who apparently was in the middle of a story glanced over towards the door, his predatory eyes moving by pure instinct. He motioned with his hand. “Come on over guys, I was just telling them about when I managed to get a screw jammed up my nose.” It took a few minutes of recap for Tygeria and Drerzii to understand the situation, but it was incomprehnsible why the humans found it so funny.

Uhris and Enara arrived shortly after the story was finished. Both had bags filled with consumables in both hands. Taurus hooted from across the room “Uwu, y’all look like a couple, walking in with your groceries.”

Uhris breathed heavily through his nose, what Tygeria believed was called a “snort.” “If I was Jason maybe we’d be a couple.” At that comment Jason started coughing and Enara’s face grew red. Perhaps, Tygeria thought, this has something to do with them ‘liking’ each other.

“Anyway, we’re going to get started on lunch. Y’all just sit tight. Also Tygeria you should be able to eat this, we got food that’s edible for you too.” She clicked her thanks.

It was very considerate that the humans would use sustenance that she would be able to ingest as well. She was, however, concerned. Among her kind she was known to have rather specific preferences. However she couldn’t risk offending the humans by not eating any sustenance they prepared. But as they worked in the kitchen, her olfactory senses began to tingle. The smells of whatever it was they were making piqued her curiosity. How could one prepare food so that it would have such a smell? Was this some form of communication between human. Perhaps it was just a byproduct of whatever processes they were using to prepare the sustenance. 

She peered over to see both Uhris and Enara moving efficiently through the kitchen, handing each others utensils and ingredients as they worked. Occasionally one of them would take a small utensil and taste some of the sustenance, then make a small adjustment to the ratios of ingredients. Sometimes they would ask each others opinions or hand something off to the other. Tygeria was astonished at the ease with which they hurried through their movements. Uhris placed his creation in the heating unit and turned to the rest of them. “Alright, so this should take just a few minutes to bake, and then we’ll be good to go.”

Taurus set out dishes for everyone to eat on, except for Drerzii, who had declined on account of his metabolic processes not being in service for the time being. Once Uhris had deemed the time to be right, he carefully pulled the sustenance from the heating chamber and placed it upon the table. Enara came from the kitchen and placed what she had prepared next to Uhris’. “Just wait for it to cool down and then go ahead and dig in.”

With a laugh Jason raised his hand, “So what exactly is it that we’re eating.”

Uhris bared his teeth, then quickly changed his expression to be less frightening for Tygeria and Drerzii. “What we have here is a magherita flatbread, made completely by hand, with non-native ingredients. I subbed uthara for tomatoes for both the garnish and the sauce, and used tehari cream instead of cheese. And the crust is, actually I don’t know what it is, it just said it could be substituted on my holotablet. But Enara, tell them what you made.”

“What we have here is a fruit salad, also made with ‘non-native’ ingredients, as Uhri put it. And I put in some of the spices they had at the compound for some added flavor.”

Jason laughed, “So basically we’re having alien pizza and alien fruit salad? This is really gonna be the test guys.” With that he took out the first section of the ‘flatbread’ and took a bite. His eyes opened wide and he made a sound deep in his throat. With a mouth full of food he said, “Oh yeah, thish ish the sh*t you guys.” 

What exactly that meant, Tygeria wasn’t sure, but the rest of the humans began consuming the sustenance, and so Tygeria took one of the squares and took a bite of it herself. Her carapace tingled with delight. The flavors burst in her mouth, sweet and salty combining perfectly. She hummed with delight, this was beyond what she would have imagined the humans to be capable of. She then took a portion of the ‘fruit salad’ and ate some of that as well. It complimented the flatbread in a way that she didn’t know was even possible. She quickly secured another few servings, making sure she would have enough for later on. She would have to savor the taste whenever she had the chance. But she couldn’t help but to hum even more as she continued to feed on it. 

“Well it looks like we have one very happy customer.” Uhri said.

* * *

The rest of the day the group simply stayed indoors and talked about a myriad of subjects. Enara’s skill in the kitchen had come about simply because she liked to cook as a past time. It was, as she said, “A pleasure to see my work put smiles on faces. And even better if I can make the food healthy.” Uhri had apparently worked in his family’s business of making food for special events, something called catering, and had picked up his skills from his years helping around the kitchen. He volunteered to make another meal for dinner, but before he could start Anne stopped him. 

She stepped into the kitchen and turned to him “It’s been a while since I’ve made anything for anyone else, but I’d like to try to make something for you guys.”

Uhri shrugged, “Knock yourself out.” Tygeria was startled by this. Why would Anne hit herself so hard as to knock her unconscious? She was about to raise her concern when Uhri spoke, “I didn’t mean it literally. It’s a human saying, kind of like good luck, or go right ahead.” 

She hummed her acknowledgement, but was still confused as to why anyone would say this. 

Taurus paused, “Wait Anne, I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Well I did live by myself for two years in college. And I got sick of instant ramen after the first semester, so I had to learn.” 

This made sense to Tygeria, humans apparently had to fend for themselves once they reached a certain age. Their parents would assist but for the most part they were on their own. Next to her Drerzii trumpeted with delight. “Why, Tygeria I have been fastidiously taking notes of this whole occasion, and I would like to mull over them with you later. We can see what our thoughts are, but this entire time has been so enlightening.”

A few short minutes later Anne huffed out of the kitchen a steaming platter in her hands. The smell coming from it was just as strong as the one coming from the earlier dishes, but not quite so delectable in nature. Anne plopped it down in the middle of the table and introduced the dish. “It’s a bean casserole, or at least as close as I could get to one with what we have.”

Jason was again the first one to take a bite. He slowly pulled his utensil out of his mouth. Anne beamed, “So, what do you think?”

Jason shook slightly, “It’s definitely something else. You’ve got a real flavor there I’ll tell you that.” He timidly placed another portion in his mouth, shutting his eyes as he did so. 

The others began to eat, and had similar reactions. Slow, and usually taking a drink of water after every bite they had. It was a completely different reaction to what they had before. Before she could take a bite, Drerzii whispered in her ear, “Tell me what it tastes like.” 

So she  put a large portion on her plate, and another large portion in her mouth. If it was anything like the bliss she had tasted earlier she would have to start eating the humans food more often. Unfortunately, it was nothing like what she had eaten earlier. It was as if whatever the flavor was meant to be had become evil and was attacking her mouth. And the way it felt, it was incredibly dry, parching her mouth. She quickly grabbed a cup of water and downed it, trying to suppress the taste and texture. She turned to Drerzii and spoke quietly, not wanting to offend Anne, “It’s awful. I would not recommend trying it.” She looked back to see Anne staring directly at her. Her predatory hearing must have heard Tygeria’s report. 

“Is it actually that bad? I know I might have fudged some of the spices, but was it actually that bad?” 

Tygeria started to panic. How could she tell the human that it was possibly the worst thing she had ever tasted? Humans were easily offended when it came to things they made themselves. It wouldn’t do for her to insult the food. But she could thing of no other honest alternative. Right as she was about to confirm, Taurus spoke. “To be honest Anne, it’s not great. It’s pretty dry and you overdid it with the flavoring. But trust me it’s not as bad as my grandmothers cooking. That was a culinary nightmare. I can at least eat this.” 

Anne nodded, liquid gathering at the bottoms of her eyes. Tygeria tilted her head, she had heard that liquid spilled from humans eyes when they got emotional, and the action even had a name. So she asked, “Are you going to cry?”

Instantly Anne stood straight, and shook her head. “Throw the food away. I’ll just go out and grab something pre-made.” With that she dashed out the door. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I mean, yeah, you aren’t really supposed to ask people if they’re going to cry.” Taurus said, “But at least we don’t have to finish the food. God it was disgusting, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Enara struck him on the shoulder. “Don’t say that, she tried her best.”

“I mean am I wrong?”

Enara raised her hand as if to cuff him again, but slowly let her arm down. “No, not really, it was pretty terrible. I’m going to go find her, but let’s do try to cheer her up when she comes back.” And with that Enara rose and left the room. As soon as she had Uhris spat out a slimy, semi-chewed portion of the food. “That shit was nasty, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow.”

Tygeria wondered how any human could take the risk of attempting to prepare sustenance of the potential for disaster was this, this massacre of the tastebuds.

[rintarouweb]

promise.

paring: asahi x gn! reader 

genre: fluff to angst, light angst, friends to roommates to lovers

warnings: light angst? mentions of cheating, unedited

word count: 3.4k+

notes: this turned out a lot longer than intended and took me too long to finish. the ending was rushed but i hope you like it !! this is also my first time writing for hq ヽ(^◇^*)/

azumane asahi had never been a stranger to feelings of love or, in many cases, feelings of infatuation. anyone who knew asahi was well aware of the fact that he was a romantic with a heart that was bigger than his body - something that says a lot given his tall and wide stature. throughout his three years of high school, asahi had found himself harboring feelings for a classmate or peer. a few times, they even went on to develop into a relationship. while he wasn’t extremely experienced in the area, the former ace wasn’t completely clueless when it came to love - or so he thought. 

a boy by the name of hiroaki was asahi’s first ‘serious’ relationship. the two boys were classmates paired together for an english assignment once, then twice, and over time their feelings for one another had blossomed - like tulips in the spring. after hiroaki confessed his feelings for his seatmate, asahi was floating on air. everyone around him could see how much happier he seemed. a sparkle in his eyes, a skip in his step. asahi felt finally full being with him, but that quickly changed after the first month of their relationship. 

the boy who was once kind, loving, and so supportive of his partner became anything but those things towards asahi. it started with hiro becoming more judgemental of the ace, especially when it came to the way asahi showed him affection. suddenly, asahi wanting to hold hands, be cuddled, or even a small peck on the lips was ‘annoying’ and ‘too much’ for hiro. asahi shrugged it off. things were fine and if not, then they’d figure themselves out eventually. he just needed to be better for hiro so they’d be happy, so hiroaki wouldn’t be so angry anymore. over time, hiroaki continued to pull himself away from asahi. ignoring the feeling in his gut and the advice of his older sister, he allowed himself to once again get caught up in love. 

it wasn’t until his three month anniversary that asahi reached his breaking point. a picnic that his sister and mother helped him pack was tucked away in the woven basket. he sat on a large and soft picnic blanket that provided cushion against the hard ground underneath the zelkova tree. an hour passed, then another. it was beginning to reach the later hours of the afternoon when asahi let out a defeated sigh, feeling embarrassed as he sat alone in he and his boyfriend’s favorite spot in the park. he hadn’t heard from hiroaki for hours now. there was no call or text saying he was running late, that he couldn’t make it, or that he wanted to reschedule their date. 

asahi’s vision quickly started to blur, the unshed tears threatening to fall a burning feeling settled in the back of his throat. he wiped them away with his sleeve, gathered his things, and began his journey home. the brown-haired boy wasn’t too far from his home when he saw the reason - or rather, the person why hiro hadn’t shown up for their date. hiroaki was busy with a guy, one he claimed to be just friends with. the lump in asahi’s throat had grown as he watched the scene before him unfold.  a bright smile flashed on hiroaki’s face, one that asahi hadn’t seen for weeks, as the boy moved to give a kiss to his ‘friend’.

ignoring the aching in his heart and the overwhelming need to find the nearest private space and sob until his he was content, asahi swallowed the tears and ran home, flowers clutched in his hold. the second he stepped into his bedroom, his walls came crashing down. the dam had finally broke. 

asahi’s emotional pain flowed out of his pores, anyone could smell the sadness pouring out of them. a loud, cracked, and nearly raw sob escaped past his lips. the stream of tears grew, becoming thicker as his body shook violently under his comforter. in the midst of his tears, asahi had failed to hear the person entering his room, or notice his mattress sinking next to him, and the hand that had started rubbing soothing circles onto his back.  

“asahi?” your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for your friend to hear you. still, he remained facing away from you with his face squished on his pillow. “what happened, bub? i thought you were with hiro today.”

a cry left him at the mention of his boyfriend, or perhaps he was his ex now. with all the time he spent daydreaming about love, asahi never would’ve imagined this. he knew love could hurt, he had seen his sister go through heartbreak more times than he could count on one hand, but he never imagined it hurting like this. the weight on his chest was unbearable, making it hard for him to breathe or get a coherent word out. 

“do you want to talk about it?” you asked as your hand scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. having his hair played with was something that always managed to comfort asahi, but seeing as it was still tied up into a bun, you didn’t want to just take his hair out without knowing if he wanted your comfort or not. 

a sniffle came from asahi along with a nod. before you could move to respond, he was turning around to face you with swollen, bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. “can you play with my hair too?” 

“of course. i’ll always be here for you, asahi.” 

“promise?”

“i promise.” 

- 

intentionally or not, you kept the promise you made to asahi that day. you were always there for him through his lows and highs and he did the same for you in return. even though he was a mess himself, something he never denied or shied away from admitting, he did his best to comfort you, offer advice, or help in any way you might’ve needed or wanted. 

it took a few months for asahi to completely get over hiroaki but once his heart was fully healed, he was ready to give love a chance again. much to his demise, the flames seemed to burn out quickly. he told himself it was because of volleyball and his studies, he was too focused, too busy for a significant other and that was why the relationships didn’t work. and if he wasn’t thinking that he was too busy, he was wondering if it was too much or sometimes too little for his partners. asahi had always struggled with his own insecurities and after being cheated on was a huge blow to the self confidence he spent so much time carefully building up. in his first year of college, he ended up in a relationship that only worsened those insecurities. 

asahi found himself falling for a person in his fashion design class, yuna. looking back, he wonders if he truly loved her or if her being so, so different from hiroaki was what pulled him in. 

yuna and asahi were both in their second year of college when they met in their fashion design class. outside of the one class they had together, the two rarely saw each other - aside from the few run ins here and there on campus grounds. most people who knew yuna, or at least of her, were aware of the fact she was considered to be a ‘loner.’ the thing was, yuna was relatively popular. the girl attended parties often and whenever she wasn’t alone, she was with a new group of people no one had seen her with before. so, when the news of yuna and asahi being in a relationship got around, people were surprised to say the least. 

asahi was timid, especially for a big guy, and everyone knew that. on the other hand, yuna was a relatively short girl with the personality of a shaken up soda. yet somehow with their opposites, they made it work for quite a while. for asahi, it felt as if centuries had passed since his relationship with his first love hiroaki but sometimes old wounds reopened. yuna not only tried to be understanding of asahi’s insecurities, she supported him emotionally and gave him the reassurance he needed. from then, asahi felt as if he finally had found love again. 

the couple was together for five (5) months when yuna expressed that she didn’t have a place to stay at the for the next term. asahi asked yuna to move in and from there, it seemed as if things would only keep going up. oh, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

many people will agree that breakups that come out of nowhere are the most hurtful kind and after experiencing one for himself, asahi couldn’t help but agree. asahi and yuna were both wanting to pursue their fashion careers, looking for internships all over just to have the opportunity to work under a gifted designer. asahi landed a position in tokyo, which would’ve been great for their relationship if yuna hadn’t gotten an internship in an entirely different country. after several hour long conversations, the pair agreed that breaking up would be the best for them. they both knew it was coming at some point but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. the day yuna departed to the airport was a painful one to say the least. the last time asahi cried that hard was that day so many years ago when he saw his high school boyfriend cheating on him. 

when asahi closed his apartment door behind him, there was no way to ignore or deny the silence that weighed down on him. yuna’s things had been slowly disappearing from the apartment for months but now, he was finally completely alone. for some, silence was a thing that brought comfort but for asahi, the silence was only more room for his thoughts to weigh down on him. 

he could’ve found an internship in the states, then he would’ve been able to stay with yuna. why didn’t he bring up long distance? they could’ve made it work, so why didn’t he try?

his body sunk into the couch even deeper and a sigh escaped his lips. what the hell was he supposed to do now? it was nearly one in the morning, on a tuesday nonetheless, and just about everyone he knew was either asleep or involved in something he had no part in. your name flashed in his mind and a small smile graced his lips. you were usually awake at the most random hours of the night, or morning. asahi could call you, right? even if you didn’t answer by some chance, there’s no harming in trying. his fingers moved to unlock his phone, rushing to find your contact and letting out a sigh once the line started to ring. 

“hello?” 

“oh, uhm, hi,” asahi whispered. 

“is something wrong? do you need me to come over?” the keyboard clicks he heard on the other line came to a stop as you waited for his answer. he assumed you were editing a video, or working on a new piece of writing. you always told him your mind worked better at night, the moon helped your ‘creative juices flow.’ 

he nodded but remembered you couldn’t see him and responded with a short “yes, please.” 

asahi could only feel relieved at the fact you were awake at such an hour, let alone willing to come over and comfort him, or even just sit in silence for a few hours. unbeknownst to him, this was all part of the promise you made to yourself in high school. it was all part of being a good friend and being there for him the way he had been there for you countless times as well. about thirty minutes later, his apartment door opened and asahi was glad he gave you, daichi, and suga all your own emergency key so he wouldn’t have to leave his spot on the couch to let you in. you made yourself at home as soon as you came in. hanging up your coat and stepping out of your shoes, you sat down next to him and placed a bag of food on the coffee table in front of you. 

“eat,” you pushed the bag towards him. a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but it never fully rose. 

no words were exchanged while the two of you ate. asahi’s attention was focused on the show he had put on and yours was focused on him. his long, dark hair was out of his usual bun he pulled it into and it fell a bit passed his shoulders. a pair of glasses rested on his nose, the glare from the light making it difficult to see just how red the whites of his eyes had become.

“you know, if you’re worried about getting lonely here, i could always move in.” 

asahi’s head turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed. “why would you do that?”

“well,” you swallowed, “don’t like my current roommate. i can’t even exist in peace there. we’ve been friends for forever, you know all my habits, i know all yours. plus your apartment’s closer to my internship.” 

“when can you move in?”

you were moved and settled into the apartment two weeks later. the room that was once yuna’s space for working on designs had been turned into your bedroom and asahi couldn’t be happier. well, he was as happy as he could be for someone who was recovering from a breakup.

 without a doubt, asahi was the best roommate you had and vice versa. your monrings started off with him offering you a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever you had a taste for that morning before leaving for his morning run. breakfast dates, or any sort of platonic date for the two of you only became more common after becoming roommates. some days it was going into the city and grabbing breakfast before spending most of the day shopping. other days, that meant sitting in a quiet diner and catching up. 

your roommate had been extremely busy recently, finally being given the chance to debut his own fashion line and you couldn’t have been happier for him. while you loved and definitely supported asahi in his dreams, things around the apartment had gotten a bit lonely. besides you there were numerous kinds of plants all over the shared space. asahi loved plants, he was a self proclaimed plant dad and living with him only made you grow fond of the green things he called your children. as much as you loved the plants now, they were no match against the nights you and asahi would spend sprawled out on either of your beds eating takeout and binge watching a show that took you both ages to agree on. 

tonight was just another day where you both had agreed on hanging out once asahi got finished with his day. it was nothing extravagant or over the top, just ordering takeout and watching movies while camped out in his room. the food came a bit after asahi got home, he greeted you with a quick hug before excusing himself to the shower and you gave him a small nod and smile. things between you two had been changing recently, slowly but ever so surely. it wasn’t odd for asahi to be affectionate with you, or other of his close friends, but his touches went from quick hugs and occasional cuddles after a rough day to lingering touches, holding your hands in his, and a forehead kiss here and there. it wasn’t a bad change for either of you, actually. based off of the way your heart fluttered whenever his hand brushed yours or the way his chest felt warm and fuzzy whenever he saw you, it couldn’t have been a bad thing, right? definitely not. 

while asahi was in the shower, you sat on his bed cuddled up with one of his favorite stuffed animals: a giant turtle he named melvin. asahi had a collection of stuffed animals, he treasured them no matter how big or small they were. the shelf above his desk was filled with small stuffies he received as gifts from his friends or family, a few from you, actually. once you started scrolling through titles on netflix, asahi entered the room and got settled next to you on his large, comfy bed. 

his hair was tied up into it’s classic bun, a few lose strands fell and framed his face. the hoodie he wore somehow managed to make someone as large and broad as him look tiny. was this the kind of thing asahi did with people he was dating? were you two dating? no, you were both just friends and had been since you were teenagers. nothing more, nothing less. that was what you told yourself any time you found your heart skipping beats because of something asahi said or did, sometimes even just being around the boy was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. you pushed those thoughts and unnamed feelings to the back burner. being his roommate was great, you couldn’t- you weren’t going to ruin that because of some feelings you weren’t even sure of. 

by now, the takeout was discarded in the trash and the two of you snuggled up together under the covers. for warmth. it was cold, asahi was a human heater, so it only made sense that you wanted to be close to him. the movie binge had been going on for a few hours, you’d gotten through a few episodes of a show you wanted to watch and halfway through a movie that turned out to be garbage before deciding to watch disney’s tangled for the hundredth time.

asahi laid with his head on your stomach, giving you room to rake your fingers through your hair but still be comfortable. one of his arms was wrapped around your thigh, almost using it like a pillow, and the other held a small stuffed bear close to his chest. the movie was getting to the part where rapunzel was telling mother gothel about the floating lanterns when asahi decided to interrupt the comfortable silence that had fallen onto you. 

"bubba,” he called, grabbing your attention. you let out a small hum, letting the boy know that you heard him. you could physically feel the way his body tensed under your touch before he turned around so he could face you. his arms held him up to avoid his body weight falling entirely on top of you. the color was drained from his face and you could tell from that and the way his eyes avoided your own that he was nervous, overthinking something. 

“i’ve known you since... forever. i can’t imagine my life without you,” he started, “if it wasn’t for you, i’d be so lost right now.”

“why are you so sappy all the sudden?” you snorted. your attempt to lighten the atmosphere made asahi smile, his cheeks growing a bit pink at that too. you weren’t sure if he noticed the way your face was burning at his words, or the fact that your heart was ready to leap out of your chest and right into his arms. maybe, just maybe you were now sure of where your feelings for asahi stood. he shrugged and let out a large puff of air, his head falling back onto your stomach with a small grunt. your hands tangled in his hair once again as his attention went back to the movie. there were a few minutes of silence between the two of you before you pushed your anxiety aside and took a deep breath. 

“asahi, i don’t know if we can be friends anymore.” 

“wa- what? why not?” 

“i don’t see you as just my friend, or my roommate, even. i haven’t seen you that way for a while, if i’m being honest. and i wasn’t going to say anything but you said that and i just-” you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “asahi, i’m in love with you.” 

his throat was dry, his heart was beating so fast he was sure he’d end up dizzy in a few seconds but this chance was in front of him after waiting for so long, he wasn’t going to let it slip away from him. 

“can i kiss you?”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Wait

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | The Question | The Walk | The Worry | The Ordeal | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Notes: Merry Christmas Eve to those of you that partake! To those of you  that do not, happy Thursday! I hope everyone is having a wonderful week!  💝

Warnings: This chapter deals with pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor and have never been pregnant. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Summary: Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while.

You don’t tell the guys the good news at first. Thing is, because you don’t tell them, they notice some stuff about you. Stuff like the fact that you’re getting up to pee… More often than usual. You just pass it off as drinking a lot of water - hydrating way more, it’s been a goal of yours, anyway. They let that go.

But then there is also that time Connors gets a tuna fish sub with extra mustard and relish and you nearly throw up in the middle of the bullpen. You manage to make it to the bathroom before getting sick. Borracho meets you in the hall with a bottle of water, a pack of gum and a kiss on the forehead. You take a walk around the block to get the smell out of your nose. When you get back to the office, all of the windows are wide open. You know it’s Borracho’s doing, but the guys are all ribbing Connors for bringing in the smelliest sandwich imaginable. With this distraction you manage to meet Borracho’s eye and mouth, I love you, without anyone noticing. -- 

The two of you have some stuff to figure out - moving into a new place is your first priority. Your current apartment just doesn’t have enough room for a baby. The two of you have been looking at a few places, have gone to a couple of open houses, but nothing has seemed like a good fit. Borracho, unsurprisingly, wants to move somewhere closer to his family. You do see the appeal - more people in close range to help with the baby. And you do love the Magalons. But you also… Kinda like having your space. And maybe that’s a little selfish of you, especially considering how much you know they’re going to offer to help you two with the baby. After your first prenatal doctor appointment, the two of you go looking at a few places. The two of you have mostly been looking at two-bedroom apartments. You see one or two that you kind of like, but the two of you agree that what you saw was not what you were looking for. You stop to grab a bite to eat - you’re getting sleepy (you’re so tired these days, but Nadia tells you that that’s normal - so does Megan… And Isobel… And Regina, and your mother), and Borracho didn’t eat before the two of you left the apartment that morning. The two of you cuddle up on the same side of a booth at a diner, and you don’t even care that you look like the kind of couple that you used to make fun of. You’re too comfortable, tucked into Borracho’s side. You’re half-asleep (“Resting my eyes, I swear,” You mumble when he accuses you of being completely asleep), and he’s scrolling through more apartment listings on his phone while you wait for your food. “Food’s here, sweetness,” He murmurs, and you vaguely register the light thunk of plates being set on the table. “You want another cup of coffee?” The waitress asks, “You look like you could use it.” And she’s right, you’d love one, but you need to start cutting back on the caffeine, so you give her a smile and ask for more water instead. “Our baby better appreciate my caffeine withdrawals,” You sigh, scrubbing at your eyes. Borracho chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They will. Hey-- Gabriel sent me a listing. You up for checking out one more when we’re done here?” You consider it for a moment as you pick up your spoon and push your oatmeal around to help it cool a bit. If Gabriel sent it, it’ll probably be quite close to the Magalons.  And frankly, right now what you really want to do is go home and curl up on the couch. But you might feel better after you’ve got some food in you. So you nod. “I could go for one more.” -- It’s a condo, not an apartment. It’s got plenty of light; the bedrooms are right across the hall from one another; there’s only one bathroom, but you think you could live with that; the kitchen is much more open than the kitchen you have now. It’s a twenty minute drive to the nearest Magalon home; they’re not right on top of you and you don’t feel underfoot. “What do you think?” Borracho asks as the two of you leave. “... I really love it, but I didn’t wanna say it while we were in there. What do you think?” “I think… We should look at the listing online again and then maybe go to the bank. See what we can do about a loan.” You grin. “I would so be doing a little excited jump but I feel like if I jump right one, I am going to throw up.” “I’ve got the gum.” 

-- Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while. You don’t intend to at first, really, you don’t, but they do catch on to some things - like the fact that you’re not drinking when the group of you go out for drinks after work. You just pass it off as being the designated driver for the two of you, and the guys rib Borracho, telling him to let you have some fun once in a while. You’re able to hide the slowly growing bump under your jackets and shirts and dresses. Nick officially finds out first - you schedule a meeting with him to discuss maternity leave during your fourth month. He has a straight face for a few moments before he nods and congratulates you. “Thanks,” You smile, “Who won the bet?” “Connors.” “Motherfucker, every time.” The guys won’t tell you how much the bet was for, though - they won’t even tell Borracho, which is new, and weird. But the two of you shrug it off, and the guys insist on taking the two of you out that night, and make a show of buying you rounds of seltzer. 

-- “Do you want to know the sex?” You turn away from the ultrasound to look at Borracho. The two of you have been asking each other that all week. “We’ll get a bunch of yellow stuff if we don’t,” You’d pointed out, “Do we want a bunch of yellow baby stuff? Or people will buy a ton of stuff one color or the other and then be like, ‘well gosh, now you can’t use it’ if it’s the other sex-- Even though we’ll use it anyway-- Am I overthinking this?” You’d asked, looking up at him from where you were cuddled back against his chest on the couch in your new condo. He’d looked down at you, brows raised. “You are, but it’s hilarious, so, please, keep going.” 

“Do you wanna know?” You ask him now, because if there’s a time to stop the technician from telling you, it’s this moment. And Borracho glances from the ultrasound to you before he shakes his head a little. “Do you?” He asks. You smile and shake your head. “We’ll wait,” You say, turning to look at the technician again. 

-- 

“I love this green!” Nadia’s squealed declaration is ear-piercing, but you’re glad she approves of it. You laugh a little, watching her look around the room. You and Borracho painted the room a couple of days ago. The two of you had settled on a sage green color - not too in-your-face, but something that would be warm and welcoming. Borracho and Gabriel are out getting some of the furniture for the nursery now - the bassinet, the rocking chair, the combination changing table-dresser. Nadia’s dropped her kids off with Isobel to come over and help you guys start building some of the furniture. “You’re getting a rug?” “A small area one, yeah. Grey,” You nod. “How’s everything been?” Nadia asks, watching you lower yourself to lean against the windowsill. “Oh, it’s been…” Nadia gives you a knowing look, cutting off the, ‘being pregnant is great’ spiel you usually give the guys at work when they ask (because as sweet as it is for them to ask, they don’t really want to know). You sigh. “I’m constipated and my boobs are getting bigger.” Nadia nods, reaching out and patting your cheek. “Welcome to the club, honey.” 

-- 

“Stop scratching.” “I’m not scratching.” “I saw you scratching, sweetness,” Borracho chuckles, “I’ll get the salve, get on the bed.” You don’t bicker with him. He’s been a saint - giving you a hand up to stretch when you have leg cramps, helping around the apartment more when you’re tired - and rubbing salve when your stretching belly is itchy. You lean back on the bed and pull your sleep shirt up. You sigh, giving your growing baby bump a rub.  “Not scratching, huh?” Borracho teases, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, “I see irritation.” “It’s itchy,” You whine. Borracho lets out a sympathetic hum before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. You smile, watching him sit up and open the jar of salve. His sisters all swore by it - and they’d been right. It smells good, helps soothe the itch, and is a life saver. Borracho scoops out a small amount and begins to rub it in. You sigh, resting your head back against the pillows. “We still have to narrow down names,” You remind him. He hums, nodding, and you reach out to the notepad you keep on the bedside table. “Don’t drop that on your face again,” He teases as he reaches into the jar again. “You made me laugh last time, so that’s still your fault,” You argue, but you’re giggling. You flip it open, finding your list. “Mmm… Start with boy names?” You offer. “Sure, sweetness,” Borracho murmurs. “So we’ve got… Liam… Santiago… Xavier… and Giovanni.” “I don’t like Giovanni,” Borracho says, “I don't like the nickname ‘Gio’.” “Well someone’s name doesn’t necessarily dictate their nickname, Borracho,” You tease, “But I’m fine to take that one off of the list… I don’t think I like Liam so much anymore.” “Really?” “Mm. Liam Magalon. They kinda run together. LiammmMagalon.” Borracho chuckles, closing the jar of solve. “Liam’s out, then.” You reach out to the bedside table and grab the pen, crossing off Liam and Giovanni as Borracho stands up to put away the salve.  “So that leaves us with...Santiago or Xavier.” “What about girls?” You turn the page. “Mmmm… Malia… Faye… and Xiomara.” “I like Malia,” Borracho flops onto the bed beside you. “Yeah?” You raise a brow, looking over at him. He nods a little. “Malia Magalon… Lia for short. Be cute.” “It would be cute,” You smile. Borracho watches you for a moment before he leans up, kissing you gently. You lower the notepad and cup his cheek, humming quietly. “Agreed, then?” He murmurs. You nod. “Malia if it’s a girl,” You murmur. “If it’s a boy?” He asks against your lips. “We’ll figure that out later,” You drop the notepad on the bedside table, reaching out to catch hold of his shirt with your other hand. 

--

You have two baby showers. You expect one, but not the other. They’re both sort of surprises in their own way. 

--

The first one is more traditional. It’s at Regina’s house - your friends, Borracho’s sisters, and your family are there. Borracho knows before you do that it’ll be happening. If you’re honest, you kind of suspect it. He’s on his phone all morning - you see his mom’s name, his sister’s names popping up. You don’t look too closely at the messages, but you’re suspicious when he mentions swinging by his mom’s to pick up a couple of things and asks you to tag along. He knows that the jig is up when you come out of the bedroom in a photo-ready outfit. “... Was I obvious?” He asks. “No, babe. I just know how Magalons do surprises now,” You tease, before pecking his lips, “Let’s go.” --

The second one you do not expect at all.

Nick asks you to drop a file to someone on another floor.

There’s a moment where you think, ‘Can you ask someone that isn’t seven months pregnant?’, but you take it and go. The elevator takes a stupidly long time both ways. By the time you make it back, your desk has been decorated, the guys are all standing around it, and there’s a banner hanging from the fluorescent lights that says, ‘Surprise!’

Tears fill your eyes and you cover your mouth with one hand and wave at your eyes with the other.

“She’s crying! Pay up!” Nick yells.

Borracho runs his hand over his face before directing his gaze at the ceiling.

Once you’ve calmed down, you sit at your desk and the guys give you a few gifts for the baby. Henderson passes out cupcakes (you eat yours and Borracho’s). 

“You guys find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Nope. We’re flyin’ blind,” Borracho says, rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades.

“How much money is riding on it being a boy?” You ask, peeling the wrapper off of the second cupcake. The guys look between each other and you tip your head to the side.

“C’mon, if you tell me you’re not betting on it, I am so calling bullshit. Do you know?” You turn to Borracho, but he shakes his head, “Not a clue, sweetness.”

“We’re gonna let it be a surprise. You’ll see,” Nick waves it off.

--

“Settle down, tiny,” You grumble, looking down at your stomach, “You’ve gotta let mama sleep.”

“Kicking again?” Borracho asks.

“We’re having a soccer player,” You tell him as he comes over to the bed, “Or a can-can dancer.”

“Maybe they’ll do both, why are you trying to limit our baby?” Borracho teases you. You chuckle.

“Maybe they will-- Or maybe they hated that idea,” You wince at a particularly hard kick.

Borracho lays down on his stomach beside you and leans closer to your belly.

“No more kicking your mama, little one,” He murmurs, “We talked about this.”

You raise a brow, peering down at him from where you propped up on a small mountain of pillows.

“Did you?” You ask. He hums, nodding and rubbing a hand over your belly.

“When exactly did you have this talk?” You add, “I feel like I would’ve remembered this.”

“You were napping at the time, sweetness. This was a dad and baby talk.”

You bite your lip, fighting a wide smile.

“Do you have these talks often?”

“Sometimes.”

You reach out, running your fingers through Borracho’s hair.

“...Are you excited?” You ask. You feel like you haven’t asked since… Well, since you told Borracho that you were pregnant. He nods, looking up at you,

“A little nervous,” He admits, “But… Yeah, I’m excited. Are you?”

“Mhm. Not just because I won’t be getting kicked… from the inside, but… I wanna meet our kid.”

Borracho chuckles and sits up, placing his hands on either side of your head and bracing himself as he leans in for a kiss. You smile, reaching up and cupping his cheeks.

“... Well, thank you for the dad and baby talk. Tiny listened to you,” You glance down at your stomach.

“Mm,” Borracho lowers his head and presses a kiss to your neck, “Anytime, sweetness.”

--

Borracho’s at work when it happens.

You try not to panic.

You just take a deep breath and pick up your phone and call Nadia and say as calmly as you possibly can that your water broke and you need someone to drive you to the hospital. She doesn’t exactly… Answer, at first? She kinda screams - an excited one, but it doesn’t exactly calm you down.

You call Borracho after Nadia tells you that she’ll drop the kids off with Regina and be right over.

“Hey, sweetness. I just followed up with the witness Nick tracked down--”

“My water broke, Benny.”

“...Is this a drill?”

“I know that class we took recommended drills, but I was so not into that idea, it seemed alarmist.”

“Fuck-- Okay, I can--”

“It’s okay, Nadia’s on her way to get me. Just meet us at the hospital.”

“The bag’s--”

“Next to the door, I know, Benny.”

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky little laugh because you’re a little freaked out right now.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetness,” He adds gently, “You sure you don’t want me to come and get you?”

“It’s alright, Nadia’s closer. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetness.”

--

“She’s so small.”

“...Can’t tell if that’s you or the drugs talking, sweetness.”

“Shush. I’m just… I am just saying… She’s frickin’ tiny.”

“Babies usually are.”

“Stop ruining this for me.”

Borracho chuckles, pushing your hair back from your forehead and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. The two of you peer down at your sleeping daughter together, quiet for a few moments.

“Malia Rose Magalon,” You murmur. It’s the first time you’ve said her name aloud.

“...Lia’s got a very tiny nose,” Borracho mumbles.

You’re quiet for a moment before you glance up at him.

“Literally what was I just saying about her being small?”

--

When the guys come by to see you in the hospital, they have a gift bag with them.

“Guys, what even?” You nod to it.

“Well, you know those bets we had on… Whether or not you were pregnant, boy or girl, that kinda thing…” Henderson lists.

“Uh huh,” You nod.

“Here,” Nick sets the bag on the bed. Borracho carefully lifts Malia out of your arms, shushing her as she whines. You reach into the bag, pushing aside the tissue paper.

“We agreed that the pool money could all go to a… Better cause than usual,” Connors rubs at the back of his neck. You pull out a jar that’s filled with cash, labeled, ‘College Fund’.

“Figured we’d get you guys started,” Zapata adds, tucking his hands into his pockets.

There’s a moment of quiet in the room before Nick laughs, “She’s crying, pay up!” 

[drunkserval]

A Fresh Canvas: Incomplete Preview

Quite some time ago I did a silly little thread on Twitter, and I’ve always wanted to take that and actually make something out of it. Well it was a little harder than expected, but it’s coming along!

When I have the entire thing done I will be uploading it to AO3, but for now it seemed seasonally appropriate to at least drop this.

I wanted to have this posted yesterday but festivities kept me busier than expected! Story is below the cut. Keep in mind that this is still technically a rough draft, and will receive its final beta pass before the full story hits AO3.

(Tentative) Title: A Fresh Canvas Fandom: Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by MXTX Rating: G, No Warnings Apply Summary: Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan are neighbors in the same modern apartment complex who, despite looking similar enough to be mistaken for each other, couldn’t be any more different. Or so they think.

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

Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan were neighbors in the same apartment complex. They lived on the same floor, in the same hall, and were often mistaken for one another due to this proximity combined with how similar their appearances were.

But there were key differences, as both would readily point out to their neighbors. Shen Jiu’s hair hung shy of his shoulders while Shen Yuan’s was shorter and lighter in tone. 

And still the mix-ups kept happening, particularly if they were at some distance or facing away. The misunderstanding would very rarely last past the first glance since Shen Jiu would snap and take immediate offense, and Shen Yuan would just sigh and say, "Sorry, wrong one."

Shen Yuan had no idea why Shen Jiu got so offended over it. Surely he didn’t look that bad, come on!

The neighbors eventually started learning to look at the clothes first--or to at least look for Shen Yuan’s thick-rimmed glasses. 

Both men carried and dressed themselves so differently. Shen Yuan dressed in hoodies and jeans--well, if he was planning on going any further than the mailbox, that was. Otherwise why bother changing out of pajamas or sweatpants?

On the other hand, Shen Jiu didn’t touch anything that wasn’t from a known designer. 

Shen Jiu spent proudly--and why shouldn’t he? Because he at least earned his money!

That Shen Yuan kid down the hall? Rumor was that his parents were paying his rent and he'd never had a real job in his life.

But because he never went out, Shen Yuan was one of the only people still hanging around the apartment complex when Shen Jiu went around knocking during a major holiday. 

In Shen Jiu’s arms was a box containing two fluffy black pups.

Shen Yuan’s eyes widened at the sight of them and he completely forgot to greet his neighbor until Shen Jiu cleared his throat. The dogs were like little storm clouds with feet and stubby tails, staring back at him with big black eyes. One started wagging its tail with such vigor that its whole back end wiggled about.

It took Shen Jiu a moment to find his voice as he followed, such was the state that his neighbor had chosen to answer the door in. Hideous cucumber-print pajama pants, a tacky anime shirt covered in snack crumbs, and unkempt hair had greeted him. But the continuous movement of the box in his arms reminded him of his mission. 

“I found... ” Shen Jiu shifted the box in indication as Shen Yuan shut the door behind them, “these, out by the garbage.”

Shen Yuan blinked as the other passed by him, “Have you tried calling any nearby shelters?”

“Of course I have,” Shen Jiu scoffed at the implication that he was so simple. “You try getting a real person on the phone today, though. It’s impossible. I could only leave messages.”

Shen Yuan put a finger to his lips, “Oh, right. Today is…” Glancing at a wall calendar almost as ugly as his shirt he nodded, “Right. Right.”

Did this kid ever so much as leave the building? Shen Jiu was starting to wonder. Shen Yuan dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed in the latter part of the daytime. And he hadn’t realized it was a major holiday. And then there were the countless odorous takeout boxes covering every available surface in his apartment.

Shen Jiu wrinkled his nose but still asked in spite of his rapidly growing doubts, “You don’t know anyone who can take these little mutts in for a day or two, do you?”

Shen Yuan shook his head and heard Shen Jiu sigh. His neighbor set the box down to give his arms a rest… but Shen Yuan couldn’t seem to rip his attention away from one of the pups. It hadn’t stopped staring at him, or shaking its fluffy little behind, for a moment.

“What if we take them in?”

Shen Jiu’s tone was flat, “What.”

Shen Yuan picked up the excited little pup and it immediately started wiggling in his grasp. Not struggling, however--just trying to get closer to his face, paws waving in the air and its little pink tongue darting out to reach for him even though it was still well outside of range. He had to fight back the urge to laugh at the silly little storm cloud. 

“The building allows us to have one animal per unit, right?” Shen Yuan shrugged, “so what if we each took one, even just long enough to find them new homes?”

Shen Jiu frowned. Taking in a dog, or really any animal, had never been on his agenda. He liked his nice clean apartment and intact furniture unlike a certain someone. Plus he was more partial to cats. He moved his gaze from the overexcited animal back to the box. Though the pups looked identical on the surface this one was clearly the calmer one. It looked up at his scowling face but put forth no such ridiculous display… thank goodness.

Who knew? Maybe Shen Yuan’s idea wasn’t so bad. And if it was, it was only a temporary arrangement, in the end. He might be able to get rid of the animal as soon as tomorrow if it was truly intolerable.

Tentatively, Shen Jiu reached out to pick up the dog…

And felt tiny teeth close around his fingers.

Jerking his hand backwards, Shen Jiu sneered down at the animal. “What, you ungrateful little beast!” 

Shen Yuan finally stopped cooing at his own pup to look over and said, “Maybe he doesn’t like your cologne?”

“And what’s wrong with my cologne?” Shen Jiu snapped, voice raising.

Stepping back, “Nothing, nothing!”

“It was a gift, you know!”

Shen Yuan barely avoided tripping over a haphazard stack of game cases as he kept moving away. “P-perhaps it’s just too strong for a dog’s nose, that’s all!”

This time Shen Jiu moved quickly, snatching up the dog by its middle before it could get its ridiculously tiny muzzle around anything, and he stared directly into the animal’s eyes.

“Do that again, and I’ll put you back out in the cold where I found you. Understood?”

The dog stared back at him, placid and indifferent… until its tongue darted out and licked the end of his nose.

“...good enough.”

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

It was a few days before the two of them crossed paths again. 

It’d seem they both had decided to keep their newfound pets and they were both out that day to take the dogs for walks.

The air in the park was warm, so they sat themselves on a bench to enjoy it for a bit longer and soak up some of the sunlight that was so rare that time of year. Shen Jiu’s pup sat like a sentry at his feet while Shen Yuan’s pup curled up on his lap the moment he sat down. 

It was through the ensuing conversation they realized they both gave their dog the same name by sheer coincidence.

One was too lazy and the other was too stubborn, so neither changed it. At least they’d bought different-colored collars. But this brought to light a new revelation, and Shen Yuan just had to ask…

“How did you come up with it?”

“It was just the first thing to come to mind,” Shen Jiu had explained, “from something I’ve been reading, probably.”

"Wait, you read that too!?"

As he suspected! That name was from one of the top-rated web novels that year, from its stallion protagonist: Luo Binghe!

Shen Yuan couldn’t imagine someone as outwardly prim as Shen Jiu reading trashy webnovels, but it turned out to be true. It was just a quick, easy way for him to kill a few minutes of downtime at work, Shen Jiu reasoned in his defense.

Whenever they met up from that point forward, Shen Yuan talked his ear off about his various grievances with Proud Immortal Demon Way.

‘Villains that dig their own graves but don’t bother finishing! Women that lead the protagonist on a three-chapter long subplot just to get to their lewd scenes, only to never see them again! And every single character lost all of their intelligence when the protagonist came around!’ 

And yet he had nothing but praise for said protagonist… almost excessive praise. 

Shen Jiu is annoyed at first but he starts enjoying the company. Which is good because the dog turns out to be a menace.

Well, both dogs could be counted as menaces, just in different ways.

Bing-mei (as they come to call him) would start whining so pitifully when Shen Yuan shut the door between them, thus he often just gave up and took the dog with him whenever it was feasible.

Bing-ge, on the other hand, broke his toys within days, climbed around on furniture he wasn’t allowed on--sometimes when Shen Jiu was looking right at him, too--he barked, he scratched furniture, he tore up pillows.

Despite all the trouble he was causing for his master, Shen Jiu would no longer entertain the idea of giving him up. Not after Bing-ge tore up three separate muggers on three separate occasions and growled at the person who kept taking his parking space until it never happened again.

But the biggest takeaway from their conversations, for Shen Jiu, wasn’t webnovels or dogs. It made him start to realize how lonely he'd been. 

The only other person he really spoke to was halfway around the world for their work and they only spoke a couple of times a month. Now that Shen Yuan was around, Shen Jiu actually started to have things to look forward to besides the monotony of work--knocks on the door, long walks with the dogs, the occasional cup of tea afterward on colder days...

Shen Jiu was never the sort to be up-front with his feelings, so he found a way to show his gratitude by helping Shen Yuan with his confidence issues. He started encouraging him to go out more, and to put a little more effort into his looks when he did. This morphed into helping clean up his squalid apartment since Shen Jiu could barely stand to look at it when he came over. 

Months later, Shen Jiu’s recommendation had helped Shen Yuan to land an entry-level job. That, and a steady habit of going out once a week, gave them something else to do and talk about.

Progress was slow, but visible. Shen Yuan seemed a little less awkward in public with each passing week.

One night they were leaning on Shen Yuan’s balcony. It was a night of celebration, for he’d just earned his very first promotion, and Shen Jiu had brought over wine for the occasion.

He found himself leaning closer to Shen Jiu, telling himself it was just to get a better look at him in the dim light of the city night. His focus wasn’t the best even when he was sober after all. Yet Shen Yuan didn’t stop. And when Shen Jiu turned to look at him in confusion, and their lips met, he didn’t withdraw for several seconds.

Neither did Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan tried to flee as soon as he realized what he’d done only for Shen Jiu to pull him back saying:

"Don't run, take responsibility. We talked about this."

[writethehousedown]

Lesson In Love (Gigi x Jackie) - Mina

A/N: So excited to participate in one of these challenges again, you treated me so well last time so I’m so excited to release this! Ty so so much to @dollalpaca for being an angel and betaing

Summary: Gigi may or may not be failing her music studies class. She also may or may not have caught feelings for the pretty Persian woman that offered to tutor her. Maybe. She’ll never tell.

“Janet,” Gigi groaned, narrowly avoiding falling off the couch as she rolled over and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. It was leopard-printed, a gift from Jan to themselves from when they moved into the apartment. “Do you think ‘Intro to Floral Arrangement’ sounds like an easy class? Or do you know anyone who’s taken it?”

“Isn’t it an evening class? I feel like we went over that one like… twenty minutes ago.” The blonde hummed from the floor, not bothering to look up. She was probably right, too. She had her own laptop in front of her, in the process of color-coding her online calendar. Blue for lectures, green for labs and purple for choir practices. Gigi had seen her do this enough times - every semester since they met on move-in day their first year - to be able to recognize the blocks in her schedule at a glance. Sometimes it motivated her knowing that Jan could be so on top of things while also being the most chaotic person Gigi knew, other times it made her want to die and be reborn into someone who could organise her sock draw by diameter.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She frowned, letting out a deep sigh and closing the tab. Goodbye, department of nature studies. So long, her potential florist career.

The thing was, Gigi knew she couldn’t really afford to be particularly picky with only five days before the registration period ended, but still. At least, she thought, she’d long been enrolled in all her textile-related classes for the semester. She was looking forward to most of them too, especially the design ones. Really, it was just that one additional stupid arts gen ed course she needed to get out of the way, and then she’d be free for good.

“How about ‘Art of Listening’?” Gigi asked a few minutes later, reading over the course information. She heard the sound of Jan typing on her keyboard come to a halt. “That kinda sounds like a class for people that want to become therapists or something. Or marriage counsellors?”

“Maybe people that are gonna need marriage counselling, sure,” Jan replied, her typing picking up again.

Gigi laughed, running a hand through her hair and looking back at her screen. “It doesn’t seem too bad, y’know. Just two papers and a final.” She hummed, scrolling through last year’s syllabus. “And it’s actually about music, I could totally do that.”

“Wait, who’s the prof for it?”

“Uh… something-Nguyen I think?“ Gigi paused as she scrolled back up. “Yeah, Andrew Nguyen, why?”

“Oh, that’s the one!” Jan nodded happily. “Rock took it last semester, I think. I remember her talking about it when we first met, she was always complaining about the prof who—”

“Great, you should have just lead with that.” Gigi rolled her eyes as she closed the tab. Rock was one of the more easy going people she’d ever met when it came to that stuff, so she couldn’t imagine what a prof that annoyed her would be like. Probably awful, or at least had a bad taste in anime. A soft but slightly damp piece of fabric hit her in the nose before falling down in front of her, disheartened. She scrunched up her nose in distaste when she realised what Jan just threw at her.

“Why are you throwing your dirty socks at me?” Gigi screeched, picking it up and throwing it back in the blonde’s general direction. “And why is it wet?”

“If you’d just let me finish!” She rolled her eyes pointedly, leaning to grab the sock again. It was a little too far for her to reach, and Gigi watched her stubbornly wiggle to the side until she could close her fingers around it. She smiled victoriously, huffing a little as she leaned back against the couch and made herself stand up straight. “As I was saying,” she started again, enunciating carefully.

“Before I rudely interrupted you.” Gigi grinned down, picking at her nails.

“Yes, before you did indeed do that,” Jan huffed, “Rock took it last semester. And she was always annoyed because the prof didn’t always let them use their laptops in class, but she also said that it was really easy. Most of the time they just had to listen to some music and write about how it made them feel, that sort of stuff.”

“That sounds pretty easy.”

“Right?” Jan nodded excitedly, “And I think she mentioned one of her friends is taking it this semester too. A senior, so she’s probably in the same boat as you.”

Gigi didn’t think that’d make much of a difference, but she didn’t bother telling Jan that. It wasn’t like the class had group projects anyway, so she could hopefully get by with just showing to most lectures and turning in the assignments.

“I really should have done this over the summer, you were right about that,” she exhaled, shutting her laptop and falling back into the couch. She could have gotten those mandatory art electives outside of her major done as a freshmen, or even last year, like most other students in her program did.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,“ Jan chuckled, moving closer until she could rest her head comfortably on Gigi’s shoulder, blonde hair falling all over her face. “You’ll do great, because you always do; you’re talented, but you also work hard. So you’re gonna ace all your actual photography classes, pass this one, and be done with all your dumb degree requirements. And then next year you can take all the textiles classes you want, I’ll take all the music production classes I want, we’ll go to each other’s senior showcases, and barely even remember all the time we wasted on the ugly classes we didn’t care about.”

When Jan put it that way, it sounded pretty easy. *** After three weeks of classes, Gigi felt like she could safely conclude that the class was… Not that bad. If she had to give the class a grade it’d be a solid C-, bordering on a straight-up C. It was mostly filled with freshmen from the arts faculty trying to get an easy A, a solid half of whom had already stopped showing up to lectures. And yes, it was weird being back in a two hundred-person room when most of her other classes were forty at most. She had to turn in weekly written assignments, which was also not fun, but writing five hundred words once a week wasn’t a time commitment she couldn’t handle. The problem, though, was that as far as she could tell from those three first weeks, that supposedly-easy class would also n’ot rate the level of effort Gigi had put in as anything more than a C either. Which was definitely not what she wanted out of it. Far from it.

The class did have one major saving grace, a light in the dark and a minor help in stopping Gigi from quitting the class on day one, in the form of a fellow student.

Gigi didn’t know her name, or her major, or anything tangible about her, which was a little unfortunate. She did, however, know that the girl had legs. Long and strong, with toned thighs that suggested at least some form of semi-regular exercise, and looked equally good in the kind of wide-legged, loose cotton pants Gigi herself favoured as they did in denim cutoffs. She had really nice hands too, which the brunette found out about when they accidentally reached for the same assignment sheet. They looked soft, strong and capable and careful. They’d be nice to hold, or to have holding her down tightly, or tangled in her hair while she sucked bruises into her equally-beautiful thighs.

So yeah, you could say Gigi was kind of enjoying the course, sure.

The girl usually sat at the front of the room, in the very first row from where you kind of had to strain your neck upwards to see what was on the board. Gigi knew, because that was also where she sat during the first two weeks, until she realised this wasn’t going to be the kind of lecture where she could talk all the way through the lesson without the professor caring, not if she wanted to do more than just pass, anyway. The girl usually brought her laptop to class too - covered in political stickers and pictures of cartoons Gigi didn’t know. One time the brunette walked past her, only to see a video of a crab walking up a pile of sand playing in the corner of her screen.

Gigi could remember that she made a point about the role of music in religious movements when prompted, and how that connected to society’s idea of liveliness within places of worship. Gigi didn’t really remember the details, mostly because some of it had just flown way over her head, but their professor had been very impressed. When he had said so, instead of the self-satisfied smile that the brunette had been expecting, the girl had looked down at her notes, one arm twitching like she was resisting the urge to scratch at the back of her neck in embarrassment.

Gigi thought she’d even blushed a little, and really, no one should have had the right to be both this attractive and adorable at the same time. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the crab video, which was definitely weird, even by art faculty standards. But for her, she thought she might be willing to overlook it.

geege ok this girl at the front of listening class? so hot she’s like 90 percent leg and 40 percent sexy aunt energy

janjanjan sounds Hot

geege i’d let her walk all over me and say ty she’d just be like :] and tell me about the periodic table or smth

janjanjan okay maybe let’s stop there like keep the rest for when you’re alone at home

geege or in the shower

janjanjan thanks not like i use that shower too The thing was, Gigi wasn’t new to having crushes. At all. So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to herself that she ended up developing crushes on more than a few of the people she met. Most of them were great, a lot of them were cute, and a few left her heart beating that much faster as she found herself wishing for their conversations to never end.

What was new (or disconcerting, if she were to listen to the Jan voice in her head), was Gigi feeling that way about someone she’d never talked to. Gigi still didn’t know anything about her, other than what she looked like and the sound of her voice - but god did she want to know.

And it felt like it’d been years, so many years, since Gigi had felt too shy to just go up to someone she wanted to know better and introduce herself. She’d felt anxious before, maybe a little self-conscious, but not the kind of shyness that turned into complete inaction. She found herself looking forward to the class, though not the actual work. *** She, Gigi thought, was currently winning at life.

She was done with classes for the week, had no plans that required her to get out of her sweatpants for the next twenty four hours, and was currently sitting back on the couch surrounded by food and two of her favourite people.

So yeah, life was pretty fucking great right now.

She leaned back against one arm of the sofa, a forgotten ball of yarn and half knitted almost-scarf in one hand and the other casually playing with Jan’s hair. The blonde was laying down on the couch, the only one out of the three of them that could kind of do so without most of her legs hanging off one end. Her head was resting on Gigi’s lap while her feet were in Rock’s.

Friday evening was their unofficially -designated group hang out time, a tradition that developed the last few months without any of them being aware of it, but now it was something that she wouldn’t miss for the world. It usually just meant Thai food, bitching about their classes, and whatever booze one of the other two decided to pick up. When Rock made grabby hands at her, Gigi grabbed an unopened can of sparkling water she brought for today and passed it on.

“Thank you,” Rock chuckled as she cracked it open, leaning forward to catch some of the foam that came out before it had a chance to further stain the couch. “Y’know,” she started, as she watched Gigi reach over for the mostly-empty bag of popcorn on the table. “I could just ask Jackie to help you out with the class.”

The brunette’s fingers closed on thin air, the bag of popcorn she was aiming for remaining just out of reach. “Who’s Jackie?” she asked absently, shuffling forward gently and trying not to dislodge Jan’s head from her lap.

Jan flicked her on the thigh regardless. “Rock’s friend, the one I told you about when you signed up! And, y’know, the one that’s also taking the class right now.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised. She totally remembered that, right. Her fingers grazed the bag of popcorn again, but in her haste she just ended up pushing it a few inches further away, balancing precariously on one edge of the table. “That Jackie.”

“I think she tutored, like, half her contemporary fiction class last year. So you know she’s gotta be good at actually teaching things, and not just smart,” Jan continued, as though Gigi’s attention was mostly captured by the pursuit of academics. One more inch, she leaned in a little further, balancing her weight on one arm. She just needed to get one inch closer and the bag would be hers. She could already taste the powdery, buttery, amazingness on her tongue.

“And Rockie’s always talking about how her old professor still basically cries about not being able to convince her to stay in the department. I’m pretty sure she’d totally still take him on as a grad student if Jackie just asked, nevermind that she transferred out more than two years ago.”

“So what do you think?” The blonde finished, a little more loudly, like she realised Gigi had tuned her out a bit. And Gigi had, yes, but she could finally feel her fingers closing in on the bag, triumphantly reaching in and stuffing a handful of popcorn - fat free - into her mouth. “Do you want Rock to ask Jackie when she has some time to meet up with you? Or maybe just give her your number, if that’s easier?”

“What? No, don’t do that. I’m not doing that bad.” Gigi laughed slightly, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m all good.”

“It’s too late anyway,” Rock laughed, all faux-casual. “I already messaged her.” She shoved her phone in front of Gigi’s face, and yeah, right there, that was a message saying just that, complete with her own number at the end.

“Why would you do that?” She complained loudly, tapping at the screen furiously to try and make it delete. It wasn’t that she was against the idea of getting help with the class, but mostly she was reluctant to have it taking up more of her time than it already did. Especially when she didn’t even know the girl.

“You need help!” Rock said with a yelp, avoiding the kick Gigi aimed at her. “She can help! It’s a perfect solution, why are you trying to hit me!” The last one landed just under her armpit, drawing out a higher-pitched squeal. “Besides, Jan agreed with me that it’s a good idea,” she added, turning expectantly towards her. “Tell her how you were the first one to even suggest it.”

Next to them, Jan had indeed been suspiciously quiet. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Gigi asked, poking the older woman in the chest.

“Don’t you want to see what your soon-to-be tutor looks like, Geege?” Jan giggled, ignoring her question.

“Oh, you’re right, let me show you her insta,” Rock butted in, her thumbs moving on her phone screen for a moment before handing it to Gigi with an evil smile.

Jacqueline Coxx, the profile read, next to a very familiar, grinning face. The same very familiar, grinning face that Gigi had spent many a lesson fawning over. This had to be a mistake, there was no way. “You should really be better at Instagram-stalking people,” Jan laughed as Gigi felt her mind going blank. “I think it’s the only skill that’s going to save our generation from lifelong unemployment. Or underemployment, for that matter.”

The brunette didn’t give it a second thought before she pushed her off the couch and onto the floor, screams of unacceptable betrayal and terrified excitement echoing loud in the room.

*** geege hiiiii is this jackie cox? this is gigi, roxanne’s friend from the listening class she said she’d told you i would message you geege but in case she didn’t i wanted to ask you about some tutoring if you could tutor me i mean geege but if you can’t that’s all good !! don’t feel like you have to say yes just bc of rocks stupid puppy eyes oh and sorry about the triple-text ***

“I more than triple-texted her, but three separate times,” Gigi groaned, burying her face in between the couch cushions.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Jan comforted, running a hand through her hair. Gigi would maybe feel a little bad about how much complaining she’d been doing over this, but everytime she thought of stopping, she reminded herself that Jan was at least forty-five percent to blame for this in the first place.

“It’s been more than two days. When’s the last time you went forty-eight hours without checking your phone? And be honest.”

Jan’s silence was enough of an answer. *** Jackie Hey Gigi! Rock did tell me about you, it’s all good Do you want to meet up after class on monday to figure out the details? Oh and sorry for such a late reply My phone was broken after i dropped it in a lake while i was hiking *** In an ideal world, Gigi would have planned things so she could get to class nice and early on the day she was supposed to properly meet Jackie. She’d have maybe put a little more thought than usual into her outfit, and made sure her hair looked good. Worn that red headband she knew did great things for her forehead and her eyebrows, maybe. Not that Gigi ever looked like a slob, but she definitely had clothes she liked more than others, and that she thought served her better for seduction purposes. Or even for just ‘making a decent first impression’, which she’d really settle for right now, as she ran up the final flight of stairs. Nothing said ‘I’m serious about needing help with this class’ like showing up late, especially for a course where attendance was actually recorded.

She spotted the door to the classroom still cracked open at the end of the hallway and slowed down a little, trying to catch her breath. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping that’d tame the mess a little and her cheeks wouldn’t be too red from the unexpected burst of athleticism. At the front of the room, their professor has already started talking, and Gigi quietly slipped into the first free seat she spotted, grateful to have avoided drawing everyone’s attention to herself.

It was only minutes before the class ended that Gigi thought to look around for Jackie, peering across the middle rows of students before she accepted that she wouldn’t dare sit anywhere but the very front row. She tried to lean forward to glance at the first row once or twice, eventually accepting that there was no way she could be subtle and standing the slightest bit up from her chair. The first row was mostly empty, as it usually tended to be. Gigi recognized a girl from the Image Composition class she took last semester, and thought about saying hi to her after class when she remembered she had a goal here. As she let her gaze move through the other students in the front, it eventually landed on Jackie, although Gigi had to do a double-take to make sure it was definitely her.

The thing was, she’d gotten to see - unknowingly, at the time - Jackie often enough since the semester started to get a sense of her style. And from Gigi’s weeks of casual observation, she tended to favour loose, comfortable clothes, and mostly neutral colours. She liked floral patterns too, especially on shirts, which the brunette could appreciate.

However, the first thing she noticed today was Jackie’s hair. And really, Gigi thought that if it wasn’t for the bright smile and the longest legs known to humankind, she wouldn’t have even recognized her.

The messy dark brown hair that Gigi had gotten used to, and maybe dreamt about running her hands through once or twice, was now four inches shorter and numbingly straight, effortlessly falling over her forehead and almost into her eyes when she looked down. Something about the flawlessness of her hair combined with the white hoodie she was wearing seemed to make her face glow, skin tanned and radiant with pearly teeth glinting through a bemused grin as she laughed at something her friend was saying.

Damn.

She was brought out of her daydreaming by the sound of students around her packing up their things, and Gigi realised that she most likely missed the professor dismissing their class. As she struggled with the zipper of her bag, the same one she’d been meaning to get fixed for the last three months but still hadn’t, she felt a hand hesitantly tap on her shoulder, warm against the thin material of her shirt.

“Hey, Georgia right?” A voice asked right behind her, and when Gigi turned around Jackie looked just as good as she did the first time she saw her at the beginning of the semester.

“Gigi. I’m— my name— Yep, hi, that’s me. What’s shaking?” The brunette chuckled awkwardly, “Thank you so much for agreeing to help me out, I really appreciate it! Or at least agreeing to consider it I mean, I know we really just said we’d talk about the details today, so you technically haven’t agreed to anything yet. And you don’t have to, obviously.”

Jackie didn’t seem thrown off by the sudden explosion of words and gratefulness, which Gigi took to be a good sign. If anything, her smile only grew less hesitant, the tiniest dimple appearing on her left cheek.

“We could, like, go to that library around the block? It’s a nice place to study, so.” Gigi nodded, following Jackie and making awkward small talk until they made it inside. She learned in those quick minutes that Jackie liked crabs, and geography, and obscure movie references no one else understood.

“It’s been a while since I was here to be honest.” Jackie grinned, swiping at her phone casually. “I missed it.”

"Right, Rock mentioned you’d transferred out of the faculty.”

The brunette hummed in agreement, looking a little surprised at Gigi’s knowing about this. “Yeah, I swapped my major and minor back halfway through my second year. Geo major with a minor in stage production now.” She made little jazz hand motions as she said it, and the brunette really wished she didn’t find it half as endearing as she did.

“Okay, so, tell me more about what you’ve been struggling with so far,” Jackie asked with a tilt of her head, and they got down to business. *** Maybe it was a little self-sabotaging (or self-serving, she could never quite decide), but part of what Gigi quickly found out she liked best about their bi-weekly tutoring sessions, was how much time she got to just stare at Jackie. She’d finish writing up the draft of her weekly listening assignment and pass it on for the older woman to read over, and get a solid five-to-ten minutes of ogling out of it.

Not that she was ogling her per se, that sounded bad. She was just… appreciating. Appreciating Jackie’s arms, and her neck, and her cheekbones, and her brain as she read through Gigi’s outline. Every now and then, Gigi would catch her frowning slightly, bringing her pen to the paper and tapping over the words as she read a section a few times over before making a quick note and moving on. It was kind of embarrassing how devastatingly cute Gigi found the whole thing, honestly. Like how the way she was resting her head on one hand, her fingers accidentally creating a gap that just perfectly framed the dimple on her left cheek.

“Hey, Geege,” Jackie suddenly smiled as she turned towards her. Fuck. Gigi really hoped her face wasn’t making what she was just doing incredibly obvious. “What did you have in mind for this part here?” She asked, shuffling her chair to bridge the space between the two of them.

“Which part?” Gigi shakily replied, leaning in a little. The paper she wrote her outline on was on the table, technically close enough for both of them to read, but just barely. Gigi told herself that was her excuse for moving in a few inches more, until their hands were almost meeting on the sheet of paper. Almost.

Jackie was making it hard for Gigi to focus, leaving her stumbling through the start of an explanation of the admittedly somewhat unclear point she’d made in her outline about the sudden change in rhythm. As she got into the meat of her point, she could feel herself getting more confidence, gesturing with her hands as the words started coming out more easily, and Jackie nodded in wordless understanding. It only took a few sessions to realize that if there was one thing Jackie was good at, it’s listening. It never felt like she was trying to put answers into Gigi’s mouth - letting her explain her perception of the music instead, and asking questions when needed. She made Gigi feel like even if writing about how she experienced music as an art form would never come all that naturally to her, not in the way sewing or even most visual arts did, it was something that was still within her reach. Something she could understand and relate to.

“So, are you saying it felt expected to you?” Jackie asked eventually, after Gigi paused. “Like it was building up to this in the previous parts? Or that it caught your attention specifically because it was sudden? Or out-of-place, maybe.”

The brunette took a moment to think, replaying the lead-up to that section in her head.

They weren’t even touching, but she could feel the heat radiating off the older woman’s skin. She could feel the warmth, could see it in Jackie’s gaze as she looked softly back at her, she could smell it even. And Gigi knows that didn’t actually make sense, that all she was probably smelling was laundry detergent and sweat and maybe coffee. Gigi didn’t even like the smell of coffee. But right now, sitting side-by-side in the library and alternating between emphatically talking and listening to each other, Gigi felt like all of those things.

It was only when they both moved on from that particular point, a few messy notes from Jackie hastily written to Gigi’s own words, that she realized just how close they’d gotten. She was well into Jackie’s personal space, their shoulders no longer content just brushing against each other occasionally but rather aligned against one another. No wonder she could smell the coffee.

She started to move back slowly, not wanting to draw attention to how close she’d gotten, but a sharp sting on her ear stopped her mid-motion. She let out a small cry of pain, Jackie immediately turning to face her. The older girl felt impossibly closer than a moment ago.

“I think my earring got caught in your shirt,” Gigi said quietly, a pained and nervous giggle leaping from the back of her throat. She remembered putting them on this morning, long and dangly strips of silver shaped like eyes, and thinking about how they might get stuck in her hair. If the lack of distance between the two of them went unnoticed earlier, it was definitely no longer the case. Gigi felt incredibly conscious of every exhale of her breath, of Jackie’s face only inches away from hers. The guy in the seat in front of them threw them a dirty look, like he was annoyed at how wrong Gigi’s flirting attempts had turned out. She couldn’t really blame him because, what the fuck, they had turned out pretty bad, huh.

“Hold on,” Jackie breathed, “let me untangle it for you.” Gigi knew she was speaking quietly because they were in a library, and so close to each other anything above a whisper was unnecessary, but she was struck hard by the intimacy of it nonetheless. She couldn’t decipher whether choosing to wear those earrings today was the best or worst decision she’d ever made.

Jackie reached for the end that got caught, carefully lifting it away from the threads of her sweater. It was the kind of tangle no one could probably ever manage to achieve if they tried, and yet happened without either of them realizing it. When she moved to grasp at the fabric a little more firmly, her fingers brushed against Gigi’s neck, unexpected. And maybe it’s stupid to feel so thoroughly destabilized by the mere touch of a fleeting hand, but Gigi found herself forgetting to breathe for a few seconds.

“There,” Jackie chuckled as the earring finally came free, looking in Gigi’s direction without directly meeting her gaze. “I think you’re all good now.”

Gigi thanked her politely, but she’d be the first to admit she found it hard to focus during the rest of their session, every brush of air or clothing against her neck making her shiver at the memory of Jackie’s fingers. ***

“Wait, Jackie Coxx?” Crystal asked the next time Gigi met up with her to catch up over some drinks in their favorite dive bar. Crystal had technically been Jan’s friend first, but she and Gigi had gotten a lot closer over the years, bonding over a love of what their friends would lovingly call ‘loud’ and ‘confident’ clothing choices. “‘Trips on her own feet’ Jackie Coxx?” Crystal continued, the grin on her face widening as Gigi felt her cheeks heating up. “Follows at least three Twitter accounts dedicated to Star Trek? Rockie’s junior year baby crush? The same—”

“Rock is still a junior, Crys,” Gigi interrupted, laughing, because— what. What. “And wait, she has a crush on Jackie? My Jackie?”

“So not the point,” Crystal answered, still smiling like this was the best news she’d heard all week. “My Jackie huh? God, you’re such a simp—”

“No.” Gigi groaned, dragging out the ‘o’. “Back to Rock. My best friend, Janet fucking Sport, is head over heels, stupidly in love with Rock. And I don’t care how adorable she is, if what you’re telling me is true, she’s just been… been using her! And that really this whole time she’s just been waiting and pining for Jackie! As if Jan didn’t—”

It was Crystal’s turn to interrupt this time, the smile having faded away from her face to leave way for a confused expression. “Gigi, Gigi, stop for a second,” she repeated, a little more forceful than the brunette was used to hearing her speak. “Come on, think of all the time you’ve spent with Rock, with both of them. Have you ever gotten the impression that she was anything that a hundred and ten percent in?”

The brunette closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Jan ditching her and Nicky to go hang out with Rock every Friday. Of Jan dragging her to go shopping on the weekend before Valentine’s day, an itemized and color-coded list of stores and potential gifts saved on her phone. Crystal definitely has a point, Gigi let herself recognize, deflating as the potential anger left her body as quickly as it had arrived.

“Rock did a tour of the university, back when she was still in high school and she wasn’t completely sure what program to apply for. Jackie was the one doing it apparently.” The red head paused to take a sip of her drink, grimacing a little at the taste. Why she kept ordering those novelty IPAs everywhere they went despite knowing full well she didn’t like how hoppy they were, Gigi had no idea. “I think she just made Rock feel comfortable, you know? Like, it was fine that she didn’t have everything figured out already, and made sure she knew she wasn’t making a decision at seventeen that she could never walk back. So Jackie gave her her number in case she had any questions, and then they actually started hanging out together once Rock started this year.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised, “that does really sound like her, yeah.” She could imagine it in her head, Rock a little younger and more unsure, not all that dissimilar from how she behaved when Jan first introduced the two of them to each other.

It was strange, remembering that a few months ago she would avoid directly meeting her gaze or spending any one-on-one time with her, when she could also recall the ‘u up’ and ‘netflix? :)’ texts she received from the shorter woman last night. It also really sounded like Jackie, although she didn’t tell Crystal so. It was just as easy to imagine her taking the time to reassure a worried high-school student without making her feel like she was being talked down to.

Crystal was still looking at her expectantly, and Gigi couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how strongly she reacted. “So, not an actual crush then?”

“Nope, she just thinks Jackie is really cool. God knows why, because based on what I’ve heard, she’s kind of a giant dork.”

“Hot giant dork.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should have asked you that first.”

“Uh-huh,” Crystal replied, giving Gigi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You should ask her for the full story, actually. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before, but she tells it much better than I do. And maybe you want to spend some time thinking about why you reacted that quickly, because we both know Jan is a pretty flimsy excuse.”

The brunette sighed loudly. “It’s just a crush, it’s nothing.” It didn’t sound convincing even to herself. Back when Jackie was just the hot girl in her class, that would have probably been true, but it felt like a long time ago now.

Crystal rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “That was a lot more believable five minutes ago, but sure.”

Gigi made sure to hit her in the leg for that, laughing easily and sputtering mindlessly about how she had it all wrong.

“Wait, what did Rock used to want to study, back when she was in high school?”

There was a long pause, before Crystal finally cackled., “Video game design.” *** geege do you think it’s weird

rockstar YES

geege … to ask someone if you can platonically caress their cheeks kiss them on the forehead at least wait till i finish to be mean

rockstar u know what this is both not as weird AND weirder than i expected ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

geege what do I do roxanne she’s not gonna tutor me forever. the final is less than a month away how do i tell her i wanna date her without seeming like i wanna date her

rockstar go up to her and be like ‘if we played pokemon together, we’d be a pokematch’ ;)))

geege what

rockstar will you be the nidoking to my nidoqueen

geege tf those sound like the names of drugs

rockstar yk it was one thing when you were just thirsting after the hot girl in ur class but now it’s actual feelings how embarrassing

geege u have given me a solid amount of advice. none.

rockstar k fair how about i pick up noodles on my way back? and we can eat that for dinner while you tell me all about ur gay crush without my consent

geege i like the chicken stir fry ones

*** “Do you want to listen to it again, maybe?” Jackie asked, reaching for her headphones. “Then you can tell me the exact part you’re thinking of.”

It was another Wednesday afternoon, but this time they’d ditched the library in favor of a small coffee shop that was closer to where Jackie lived. It was artsy in a way that Gigi was used to, a little hipster, but not actually fancy enough to properly lay claim on the word. The tables were a little worn in and wobbly, the lattes a little too cheap, and the art prints on the wall either too well-known or not enough.

“Sure, just give me a second.” Gigi took the earbud the Persian woman offered her, making an aborted motion towards the computer, before following through as Jackie nodded at her with a soft smile. The older woman’s phone vibrated on the table between them, and she took a quick glance at the screen before putting it back down with a little more force than necessary.

It took Gigi a few tries to find the part she had in mind when mentioning texture, replaying the same part a few times over until she was fairly certain she found what she was looking for. “That part here, until the tempo slows down again—”

The brunette was cut off by the sound of Jackie’s phone vibrating on the table again, lighting up with a missed call notification and some texts.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the Persian woman cursed sheepishly. “This is so rude. I’m sorry, Geege, I should have just turned it off earlier.” She sounded a little annoyed, but mostly flustered, taking a quick look at the screen before flipping it back over facing down.

She flashed the younger woman an apologetic smile, her cheeks coloring a little as she pointedly pushed the phone away from her.

“Are you sure everything is okay? We can take a break if you need to deal with some stuff? Or even just cancel for today, I think I have basically everything I need to finish writing this up, so.”

“No, no, âsemun be zamin nemiyâd,” Jackie protested, mind clearly elsewhere. “It’s nothing, really. Or, well, it is something I guess, but it’s kind of stupid and I shouldn’t let it distract me, you know?”

Gigi hummed noncommittally, not wanting to force her to talk about whatever this was if she didn’t want to, but finding herself unwilling to acknowledge it as something stupid either. She offered Jackie what she hoped was a quick and comforting smile instead.

“I just…” She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I’ve been waiting to hear back from this prof about a recommendation letter for grad school? And she’d said yes before, but some more students asked her, and she has this thing about not writing more than five letters per year, I don’t know. So she said she’d get back to me today or tomorrow to confirm, and I’ve just been really stressed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. That sounds really stressful.” Gigi brought a hand to Jackie’s shoulders, squeezing the back of her neck lightly. She tried to avoid doing too much extensive thinking about what she might do after college, but she doubted it was a train of thought that’d ever made anyone feel good.

“It’s okay, I should be used to it.” Jackie shrugged with resignation. “It’s just that every time I remember I’m waiting to hear back from her it makes me think of next year, and what’ll happen if I don’t get in? Or if I do, because it’s like I really know that grad school is what I want to do, you know?” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and Gigi really wished they were close enough friends for her to offer Jackie a hug or something.

“Just call your prof back now. You should have said something earlier, and we could have rescheduled.”

“Oh,” Jackie breathed out, sounding inexplicably surprised as she turned towards her. “No, no, no, no, that’s not necessary. That wasn’t her. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess today, let’s just get back to this thing, yeah?”

Gigi nodded, reaching for the headphones and passing one on to her. In a lot of ways, this had grown to be her favorite part of their sessions. Not that she didn’t enjoy listening to Jackie talk about music, which she did; mostly because she was practically tone deaf and found it magical that Jackie was so good at it, or trading ideas back and forth on the pieces they listened to, both of which were rewarding in their own ways. But there was something about sitting next to each other, silent save for the shared music, that just got to her.

They were standing outside the coffeeshop, Jackie struggling to undo the lock on her bike, when Gigi thought back to their earlier conversation. “I know it’s not the same because I’m not graduating yet, but you know I’m here if you ever need to talk to someone, right? Like, no pressure or anything, but I just— just wanted to put it out there, I guess.”

Jackie stopped mid-motion and looked up at her, half of her U-lock in hand. “Thanks, Gigi.” She grinned, all bright and pearly and warm. “I think sometimes I just get too in my own head, you know? Especially about things I can’t do anything about. And yes, I know how stupid it is to stress out over these things so much, I really do.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid, though,” Gigi mentioned, as they started walking towards her bus stop. It was really nice of Jackie to walk there with her, rather than just take off on her bike straight away. It maybe made sense now that they knew each other well enough, but her heart still kind of fluttered whenever she offered it. “I mean, maybe it’s not productive because you’re worrying about things you can’t control, sure, but it also means you care, right? And I don’t think that’s something stupid, even if you wish you could just… not care less, but care better, you know. Still care, but in a way that’s better for yourself. To yourself.”

She thought of her parents, and of the guilt she used to feel every time she overheard someone asking them if they really thought it was wise to let her go to college for fashion, how she overworked herself to the point of passing out alone in the studio her freshman year in a misguided attempt to redeem herself from having failed a class. Like she thought she could atone for her perceived academic failures by working her body into the ground. She thought of the conversations that had started to happen in her periphery, whispers of ‘What are you thinking of doing after next year?’, ‘Have you also applied for the internship at this gallery?’, ‘Have you considered doing a minor in business?’, and how she sometimes struggled with not letting these thoughts invade her brain late at night.

“I just think it’s hard sometimes, but it’s even harder if we don’t let ourselves accept it. Or talk about it. So I guess all I’m saying is that if you need someone to listen, you know where to find me,” she finished with a deep breath.

When she looked up, there was a quiet smile on Jackie’s face, and Gigi felt warm at the thought of maybe having been the one to put it there. ***

geege you know i suddenly understand why you do the shoulder thing like i use to never really get it but that was before

janjanjan the shoulder thing??

geege wait more important how did ur audition go did they love you when are you gonna hear back

janjanjan it went pretty okay i think they’re def looking more for someone that does modern

geege so that’s good! very good!!!

janjanjan and one of the choreographers sort of smiled and nodded at me at the end i think he was on the dance team my first semester but that was before he graduated ig anyway idk maybe it was just in my head

geege no but that all sounds really good!!! look at u go diva!

janjanjan gigi just finished twenty minutes ago she was wearing this stupid ass shirt a really loose tank bc it’s been hot af and one of the straps kept falling of her shoulder

janjanjan oooooooooh oh no that shoulder thing

geege i saw collarbone and so much shoulder and upper arm

janjanjan how tragic tell me, did she lift it back up

geege yeah but it kept falling back down

janjanjan that’s rly good though!!!

geege no it was torture did you know she has a mole on her shoulder? right at the top and all i kept thinking of was that i wanted to kiss it

janjanjan cute also i don’t know how to tell you this but that shit doesn’t happen by itself

geege well it’s not like it was her fault

janjanjan listen a shirt can be a too big sure but you still kind of have to make it happen it doesn’t magically keep falling off

geege hm

janjanjan believe me i would know *** No matter how much she tried to forget about it, Gigi’s last session with Jackie was a thing that was very much happening right now.

It was strange, thinking back to the beginning of the semester, how she almost didn’t sign up for the class. How she maybe would have never met Jackie if she hadn’t, or maybe would have just pined from afar without ever learning her name were it not for her meddling friends. She found herself spending the last half of their session wondering more about how to casually ask Jackie if they’d still hang out once finals are over. Or if their semester-long friendship was, well, just that.

In the end, she just blurted it out as they packed up their things, subtlety thrown out the window.

“I mean, you’re friends with Rock, so I’m sure I’ll at least see you around, yeah?”

Jackie only hummed noncommittally in reply. She was busy packing her things back into her khaki tote bag, checking each pocket like she was looking for something. It reminded Gigi of what she used to do in middle school, every time she hadn’t done the homework or just really, really, really didn’t want to be the one called on to explain her work in front of the whole class. She’d just lean down, and start searching through her bag very obviously, making a show of opening every zipper, her head almost disappearing inside it if she could manage.

“Do you, like, need help finding something in there?” She asked, her voice coming out more harsh than she’d intended, just as Jackie seemed to decide she’d found what she was looking for and decisively slung her bag back over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I— it was—” she stopped and started, letting out a resigned sigh and shaking her head at herself. It made Gigi want to cringe. “Yeah, I’m good now, and yeah, I’ll still see you around. At least for the summer, but after that too I hope! I mean, I’ll still be around and you’ll be around too, so, y’know…” she trailed off. Her cheeks were tinged pink, just barely. Her ears, too, or maybe it was just the white of her sweater making everything appear brighter in contrast. “Besides, you still haven’t shown me any of your work, and you promised you would.” She was right about that, Gigi knew. She usually wasn’t shy about showing her designs to other people, but somehow she’d found himself unsure of what to show Jackie first.

She settled her bag on one shoulder, and they started making their way out in companionable silence until Jackie spoke again. “Hey, actually, do you maybe want to grab coffee before heading back? I have a bit of time before my next class and I could use a pick-me-up.”

They ended up just stopping by Starbucks, because it was on their way and surprisingly empty for a Thursday afternoon on campus. Gigi got a mocha frappuccino (almond milk, extra whip) and managed to sneak in Jackie’s usual cold brew order before she had the chance to protest.

“Gigi…” She sighed fondly, kind of like a grandma would when her grandchildren were doing something they’d regret. She was shaking her head in resignation, which Gigi took as a sign that she’d decided to leave it at that.

“No, I’ve been stealing almost three hours of your time every week since almost the start of the semester and—”

“How can that even be true when Rock only introduced us in what, February?” Jackie laughed in protest, reaching out to grab her drink from the brunette’s hand.

“No, not the point!” Gigi replied, moving her arm back until the cup was just out of Jackie’s reach. “You’ve given up a lot of your free time for me, is what I’m saying. And you didn’t even really know me, I could’ve been a total freak.”

Jackie opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but Gigi continued before she had the chance.

“And you were so nice about it. Not ‘nice’ like when you have nothing actually all that good or specific to say. But nice in that you never made me feel like I was being stupid, you know? And you actually took the time to explain things to me so I’d understand them, not just the bare minimum so I could pass. You did all that when you didn’t really have to, so that meant a lot. Means a lot. I enjoyed spending that time with you, and not because it means I’m going to pass the class.”

Gigi forced herself to stop there, even though she knew for a fact that she could’ve easily kept going. She could feel her words coming out a little rambly, probably sounding more confusing than appreciative. At least she hoped that was what they sounded like, because the only other alternative was frightening. The idea that Jackie was in fact hearing everything Gigi was saying, her poor attempt at expressing the warmth she had felt growing inside her all semester long every time she was beside her, was infinitely more terrifying.

“Geege.” Jackie looked away, smiling after a moment, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Gigi could feel her cheeks getting hot, but when she looked up she could see that Jackie’s cheeks were tinged pink, too. It was almost funny, feeling what she felt and seeing the physical reflection of it not on herself, but on the person causing it. She wanted to reach out and let the tip of her fingers brush against Jackie’s cheeks, to see if they felt as warm as her own face did.

“You don’t have to say anything, I wasn’t trying to, like, I don’t know, get anything. I just wanted you to know what I meant, and that I really did mean it, when I was saying thank you.”

Gigi was laid bare, like her body was nothing but a lens, and behind it were all of her feelings jumbled together in a tangled mess, conclusion still very plain to the eye.

It was a surprise, when Jackie stepped forward and kissed her.

Gigi closed her eyes reflexively, but she could feel herself inhaling sharply, her body failing to catch up with what her brain was also struggling to process. When she eventually kissed back, it was only because she could feel Jackie’s body starting to move away, the fear finally pushing her into action. She brought one hand up, resting it on the side of the older woman’s neck, fingers gently brushing against her hair as she kissed back a little more confident. She could feel Jackie’s hand on her waist, warm and solid. Her grip tightened slightly as they separated, not strong enough to keep Gigi anywhere but a reassurance of where she was wanted.

Neither one of them really stepped back when the kiss ended, just stayed standing right in front of each other, breathing the same air. She heard Jackie swallow, loud in the silence of their shared space. She licked her lips, a reflex she didn’t even think about, and it was like the realization that, oh my god, they just kissed, hit her all over again when she found them wet. She suppressed a small shudder, although she wasn’t sure how successfully.

It was Jackie that finally broke the silence and stepped away from her, letting her hand fall away from Gigi’s side, brushing against her wrist and then gone before she had a chance to realize it.

“I,” Jackie breathed, “I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time, Gigi.” She laughed a little, maybe a bit self-conscious, and that was what brought the younger woman out of it.

“I spent hours talking to Jan about this gorgeous girl in my listening class,” she started, words leaving her mouth almost of their own volition. “How I didn’t even know her name but god, I really wish I did. Then I did know, even if I didn’t realize that you were, you know, you, when Rock said he knew someone who could tutor me. And then you were there and still the same person, but also so nice and understanding and just… good? Like, being around you just felt good.”

She paused, forcing herself to meet Jackie’s eyes again. “And I still mean everything I said earlier too, you know. Even if you weren’t interested in me, that’s not why I was saying it, but I still mean it just as much now.”

“Oh.” Jackie’s mouth was gaping so wide Gigi was worried it might actually fall to the floor. Maybe if Gigi were a different person, or if her brain wasn’t currently busy processing and reprocessing their kiss on an endless loop, she would have felt a little self-conscious at her outburst, but that just wasn’t who she was.

Especially not right now. Not when Jackie’s lips were right in front of her, still a little wet, still a little too red.

“That’s, that’s pretty good, then,” she finished quietly. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, only interrupted when Gigi let out a small snort.She couldn’t help but realise they were kind of ridiculous. Her face was taken over by an unashamedly stupidly large grin. Jackie properly stepped back then, far enough that Gigi could no longer feel the warmth of her body. She missed it immediately.

“I really need to get to my next class.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “So I can talk to the prof about her feedback on my draft first, but text me, yeah? I know it’s really shitty timing because we both have finals to take and papers to write, but I’ll make it work. Or I’ll call you, if that’s better? But I’m not running away, I promise.”

Gigi flashed her a bright smile and nodded in understanding. “I have your number too, y’know, so maybe I’ll just be the one to text you.”

“Okay, great, nice.” Jackie replied. She had her bag and coffee in hand, but made no clear motion to leave, kind of like she was worried if she did Gigi might disappear forever. It was so, incredibly, frustratingly cute and Gigi couldn’t help but wonder if Jackie would mind being kissed on the forehead.

“Jacks, it’s fine.” Gigi grinned. “I need to go too, anyway. Just maybe don’t drop your phone in any lake before you text me back this time, yeah?”

She turned away with a laugh of her own this time, and Gigi sipped through the plastic straw like it did anything to hide the smile on her face as she watched Jackie walk away.

“Wait!”

The Persian woman startled, turning back to her with an unsure smile. “What, did you forget something, Geege?”

“My first final is tomorrow,” Gigi said, looking up at Jackie with glinting eyes. “And it’s my first actual written exam this year, because I didn’t have any midterms, so how about another kiss for good luck, huh?”

Gigi’s cheeks ached from the force of her smile as she watched the uncertainty leave Jackie’s face, only to be replaced by a raised eyebrow and deep smile. Her shoulder’s rose slightly, like her instincts were telling her to hide her face in embarrassment at the cheesiness, but her eyes didn’t leave Gigi’s anyway. They didn’t leave Gigi’s, until they closed and their lips met again, and the younger woman thought it felt like more luck than she thought she had the right to ask for.

[milesheizclub]

Ramshackle Head - Chapter One

Before The Mystery Enda

Summary: On a person's 18th birthday, their soulmark changes to the color of what kind of life their soul mate will bring them. What do you do when all you prepare for turns out to be everything you didn't expect?

- or -

Alex is resigned to a life of being mateless, and things have to change.

Un-beta'd, as usual. Oh, and I take requests now!

Word count: 2271

Read on AO3

Another wind-knocking blow to the gut – another sign that maybe it should’ve ended for him last year, and that he shouldn’t have even been around anymore. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing waiting for him. At least that’s what the events of the early morning seemed to mean for him.

Alex walked into school by second period that day, a little more distraught by the earlier discovery than he thought he’d be. He took his usual seat beside Zach’s chair with a tired huff as he plopped down after a half-hearted scolding directed at him once he entered the room and a mumbled apology.

Zach’s obnoxious grin came into his line of vision after a couple of minutes, the boy expecting Alex to humor him and spill. “Happy birthday,” he whispered through his teeth, doing that annoying Z-Man elbow nudge with only the teasing, slinky lilt of his voice. Alex raised his eyebrows in thanks, the straight line of his mouth still firmly intact, and Zach scrunched his face, accepting the challenge.

He dragged his chair right up next to Alex, the feet screeching loudly across the classroom floor, earning more disapproval from Mr. Orman, and Zach explained it off as ‘needing to help Alex.’

“Happy eighteenth birthday…” Zach said, letting the silence do the nudging for him. Alex rolled his eyes in return, less in annoyance than in frustration and absolute hurt. He looked over at Zach’s smiling, expectant face, and he brought his hand to his right jacket sleeve, lifting it up to reveal the very-much-skin-toned design on his wrist. Zach’s eyes grew as he stared at it, and Alex quickly shoved his sleeve back down.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Alex said, heat climbing up his neck to his cheeks, and he started fiddling the edge of his table. The shame had almost consumed him right at that moment, but he’d only let it show through the flush that spread across the skin on his face and the betrayal in his eyes. Zach didn’t dare move or talk, staying only to monitor. It was only when Mr. Orman gave another pointed clearing of his throat that Zach conceded and scooted his chair back to its regular place, but never once breaking from observing his best friend.

Alex didn’t quite understand. He’d heard that it might happen, but everyone had always said that it was so rare – practically unheard of - that he’d never had any reason to second-guess it. The only question anyone ever considered was what color their marks would be once they turned eighteen.

Through the first half of the period, all Alex could do was to ruefully stare at his mark, lightly tracing his finger over the raised skin again and again. If he squinted, he could see the embossed skin twirling around his wrist and creeping up the back of his hand and up his palm like a glove of vines and small, lush leaves. Over the years, he’d imagined it in all different colors, and the kind of lives they would bring with them – the dark purple of wealth and nobility, or the blood red of fire, passion, courage, or the balance and, finally, peace of a hue of green or blue that could finally ease the constant anxiety that had found a home in Alex’ chest. He couldn’t help it.

It was actually never something that he looked forward to until recently. It had never been something he even particularly wanted. He almost loathed it – the idea of being predestined, of belonging to someone or someone belonging to him, no choice, rhyme, or reason. But after everything that happened within the past couple of years, after almost not being here for this day, it’d been something to hold on to, maybe even look forward to.

Alas, no dice.

Alex hadn’t noticed at first when his hands started to tense, but his fingernails began to dig harder into his mark, and he’d shaken himself out of his trance long enough to stop before breaking skin. He stared at the portions of his wrist where flat met raised and the dashes of dipped skin that were made from his insistent nails which caused violent itches and made Alex want to reach and scratch. The tenseness transferred to tight, tight grips on the sides of his table, knuckles turning a dangerous pale, beads of steaming sweat trekking from his scalp down to his temples, red hot cheeks, grinding gritted teeth, blown out beady pupils and eyes getting drier by the second but he couldn’t seem to blink them shut. He whipped his head with raised eyebrows to Zach, whose attention was caught immediately by the sudden movement, and Zach, momentarily paralyzed by the look of complete terror on his friend’s face, shot his hand straight into the air and shouted at their teacher.

“Mr. Orman,” he rushed, “Alex is a fucking tomato, and I’m taking him to the nurse’s office.” Tears begun to spring in Alex’ eyes as Zach moved swiftly, commoting and practically knocking his chair over getting both his and Alex’ bags and dragging his friend off of his chair. “Alex you need to come with me, okay?” he said, and Alex could only nod in return, his jaw wired tight, and they made their way through the worried faces of their classmates and out of the room.

-

The two, of course, did not go to the nurse’s office and instead ran to Zach’s car, They both understood by now that whenever Alex got worked up just like this, he needed someone to be right there for him, but at the same time he needed to be left alone. It hadn’t happened in a while, but their procedure was complete muscle memory at that point – Alex in the passenger’s seat and the speakers playing Alex’ current flavor of the month, Zach simply keeping his cool in the driver’s seat while waiting for the attack to subside and for Alex to calm down.

Alex reached to turn the music off a few minutes later, feeling too low and proceeding to recline his seat, his head suddenly feather light and his body fighting the urge to take a quick nap.

“To be honest,” Zach said, reclining his chair along with him, “I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something like this.”

“I didn’t think I would be either,” Alex replied. He sighed and gave the car door beside him a weak punch and started thumping out a soft rhythm against the leather padding.

“But I guess I’m more shocked that this even happened,” Zack continued, “like… what the fuck is that about? Like what does it even mean?”

“It means they’re probably dead already. Or they aren’t even born yet. But most likely dead.” Alex flashed back to earlier that day, to his parents with him at the dining table in the dark of the morning, readied with an ice pack and a stress ball, the excitement and anticipation in their faces slowly turning to confusion and disbelief when the burning sensation his mom always warned him about never came and the wait for his mark to reveal its color turned fruitless. They’d been optimistic – convincing themselves that the time on Alex’ birth certificate had been off, and that maybe they were off for as much as half an hour.

No one knew quite what to do other than wait, and Alex finally decided to call it a night and left for bed with a broken voice, the most dejected his parents had seen him in almost two years. And as much as he tried, Alex had not gone to sleep, the dark feeling in the pit of his chest pushing him down a Reddit thread spiral of memoirs, personal accounts, and support groups by people whose marks had never turned and whose soul mates they’d never met. The more he scrolled through the stories, the sweatier his fingertips while swiping at his phone screen which grew increasingly hot with relentless use, the colder his blood turned.

“Fuck, I have no idea what to say,” Zach said with a sigh and a slide of his fingers through his hair. “It can’t be some kind of fluke, right? Like maybe all this time we got your birthday wrong and it’s actually next year? Or maybe this really is the color of your mark! Has it ever just been bone white before? I mean it could happen, right? Or what if it’s some kind of weird Mayan thing like how they got 2012 wrong or whatev-“

“Stop, please,” Alex said, defeated. Zach huffed and brought his seat back up, wanting to say more, but ultimately giving Alex his time. “You know those points in your life when you tell yourself, ‘well this might as well happen?’” His lips curled up with a menace. It was an expression Zach had been all too familiar with, and it never failed to scare him, knowing what Alex was capable of doing, to others, sure, but mostly to himself. “I’m just trying to keep myself the fuck together and make my peace with this.”

Zach looked on at him in pity, Alex’ eyes still fixated on the black leather lining of the car’s ceiling, so pristine he could almost make out his reflection on it – that of sad, tired eyes and resignation. But he decided it was better that he couldn’t, tired of looking at himself and determining what else could be different, what about himself should and shouldn’t change.

Alex felt his eyes start to drift closed but he was jolted awake by the sound of a starting car and the gravity beneath him suddenly shifting. He pulled the lever from off to the side and his seat immediately shot up to the sight of Zach driving out of the Liberty High parking lot, and quickly gaining speed.

“Um, what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked, pulling his seatbelt across himself.

“Well, it’s still your eighteenth birthday, Standall, and I sure as hell am not gonna let you drown in all this bullshit that’s happening to you because you’re better than some fucking mark on your wrist and some piece of shit dead person who’s missing out on a great guy. So I’m treating you to the best goddamn burger you’ve ever had in your fucking life, and we’re gonna make today a fucking fantastic day for you, okay?” By the way he impassioned his speech with the steely focus in his eyes, Alex would have thought he was driving 80 miles per hour. But it brought a smile to his face, however small it may have been. “Text Tyler and Charlie, too, tell them to meet us.”

“We can’t just skip class, Zach,” Alex said, grabbing his phone anyway and quickly texting the two.

“We’ll be back by the time lunch ends, I’m not dumb.”

“You’re kind of dumb, let’s be real,” Alex said, chuckling. Zach seemed pleased with this development and eased his pressure on the gas pedal.

He got a reply from Charlie almost instantly with a series of emojis that vaguely resembled affirmation and what Alex presumed to be a joke about Tyler being dragged along on a leash. It sent calm so quickly through Alex’ chest that he could feel his eyelids swiftly start to betray him. Looking forward to it, he finally settled on replying, his lazy fingers having to retype more than once.

“I think soul mates are overrated anyway,” Zach said. “They could’ve just been a waste of time for you, don’t worry Lex.”

I didn’t deserve one anyway, Alex thought. He looked over to where Zach’s hands gripped on the steering wheel and admired the design on Zach’s right wrist, a simple red bracelet of thick, dashed lines. He thought about the amazing person who’d eventually get to share his soul and who that might be. He recalled the one point in his life when he could’ve sworn he knew exactly who it was, and decided he was much too tired at that moment to fight the urge to just admit that –

“You know, for a second there I thought it might be you.”

Zach didn’t respond at first, and Alex leaned back, lowering his backrest once again.

He kept his eyes closed, feeling the slight nausea coming back, not used to being in this position with the motion of the car and the lack of music. He kept his silence again, taking the opportunity to berate himself, not for confessing, but for burdening Zach with the responsibility of having to tread lightly and say the right thing in fear of anything happening. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” Alex said. “Please don’t think about it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Zach said without missing a beat.

If Alex had been honest with himself, he’d known all along that it could’ve never been Zach who was meant for him. Zach was much too loyal of a friend, and Alex had only been too lonely. Again, he repeated to himself, he was a burden, a responsibility. And Alex’ truth was that Zach was much too full of life for the decaying shell that Alex had become.

What kind of soul mate was Alex expecting then? Was it someone who would bring him back up from six feet under, someone he’d never accept, for their sake? Or was it someone who was as much of a disaster as him, someone to share the casket? Maybe that’s what the world thought he deserved in this life.

[crowsent]

AUgust 2020: Soulmate AU

Prompt given by @augustwritingchallenge

Summary: He tried. By the love of Ghezen he tried. Tried harder than he ever tried at anything before to read the meaningless lines of black ink on his arm. And, just as they always did, the words registered as nothing but gibberish. He couldn't read it.

Pairing: Wesper

Characters: Wylan, Jesper, Minor mention of Kaz, Inej, and Kuwei

Word Count: 1346

CW: Canon events of attempted drowning

Notes: the tumblr version is unformatted, no italics, no bold, nothing. for that reason, i highly recommend you to read the ao3 version instead so yall get that sweet sweet tone difference.

AO3 Link: HERE

=

He tried. By the love of Ghezen he tried. After every sunrise streaming in through his curtains, Wylan pushed the sleeves of his nightgown up and tried and tried and tried to read the name of his soulmate, scrawled in fiery penmanship with loops and curls and tails for flair. Twisted his arm this way and that, tried looking in front of a mirror, tried harder than he ever tried at anything before to read the meaningless lines of black ink on his arm.

And, just as they always did, the words registered as nothing but gibberish. A spasm of ink to paper, ink to skin, that meant to Wylan about as much as a splattering of tea on the carpet. It made no sense. He couldn’t read it. The name of the person fate herself had thought would be perfect for him.

Mom was dead when his soulmark came in. Having Alys read it for him felt wrong in a way that he couldn’t explain; like having an outsider intrude on a private, special moment. Asking Father was just absurd.

But, Wylan thought, perhaps he and his soulmate would still meet. Perhaps his soulmate would be enrolling at Belendt too. Perhaps they would meet each other in class, or perhaps they would meet sooner, on the boat that would take Wylan to his new school. Perhaps they would bump into each other on accident, Wylan would introduce himself, and maybe his soulmate’s eyes would light up with recognition.

As the air was stolen from his lungs, as Wylan was thrown overboard and plunged into the cold, dark, unforgiving waters, the blank papers Jan Van Eck had given him were soaked and muddied and wrinkled. The ink on Wylan’s forearm melted away and vanished from his mind as he fought to bring air to his lungs, to cough out the stinging Ketterdam river from his throat that held tight like a venomous serpent.

Wylan Van Eck was murdered that night, drowned and strangled at the bottom of the river with only the indifferent gaze of the moon as witness. Wylan Hendrik crawled and fought and clawed his way back to harbour, shivering and wide-eyed. His clothes clung to him, skin-tight and sheer. The wind bit and scratched and Wylan dragged himself down the streets of the barrel, the name on his arm taunting him as much as the blank sheafs of paper he left behind and let drift down with the current.

The ink on his arm won’t drift away. When Wylan opened his eyes every morning to piercing sunlight streaming through dingy holes and half-patched walls of abandoned buildings in the Barrel, he refused to even acknowledge the dark scrawl on his arm. A memory of a past life, of past dreams. He wore long-sleeves with dark colours. If he ever was thrown into water again, he won’t even see the ink through his soaked clothes.

He was drowning still. Drowning on dry land working in a tannery with the scent of chemicals permeating the air so thickly it made his eyes water. Stick-thin, barely making enough to scrape by, numbers and equations and designs tucked away in his bag, sleeves up to his wrist even as sweat poured down his face.

Then he met Jesper. He met Kaz. He met the Dregs. And for the first time in what felt like years of being pulled by the undertow, Wylan was grabbed by the hand and hauled out from sea, reborn into something more and someone new.

The fact that Jesper had given him an odd look when he pulled Wylan ‘Hendriks’ out of the water was lost.

The chemical smell of the tannery was replaced by the cling of gunpowder on Wylan’s sleeves, an acrid burn that he can’t quite get to go away. The pages of his notebook filled up with bombs and measurements and notes; Wylan’s version of notes, tiny scrawled images that meant about as much to others as words meant to Wylan.

Kaz “Dirtyhands” Brekker was as ruthless as he was terrifying. There were moments when they passed by each other in the slat when Wylan could swear to the Saints, to Ghezen, to whatever god or entity that might be looking down on them, that Kaz looked not at Wylan, but into him. Peering into his very soul, into the secrets Wylan tried to hide and the burn of ink he tried to run away from. Kaz said nothing. So Wylan kept his mouth shut too.

Must have imagined it, he thought. Kaz was frightful, and with Inej as his wraith, Wylan had no doubt that he could find dirt on any poor fool who bumped shoulders with him. But even Kaz was not omniscient. The piercing gaze Wylan oft found pinned at his back might simply be Kaz’s way of judging the new recruit. That’s what he thought.

That’s what he thought.

“Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Kaz fucking Brekker. Placid face, stoic eyes, mouth a thin line that gave nothing away. Shoulders set. Calm. Collected. And for a split second, his eyes darted to the side, straight directly at Wylan with a look and flitted away again.

Kaz knew. The entire time. Probably wondered what the lost mercher kid was doing so far from his ivory manor and servants that could be summoned by the ring of a bell. Wylan’s face burned hot and red. Jesper looked at him coldly, right before turning away with a huff. There was ink on the back of Jesper’s neck.

Wylan couldn’t read it.

Wylan couldn’t read Kaz’ face either when he sought Kaz out at the bottom deck of the Ferolind, when he finally admitted his illiteracy. Kaz’s eyes shot fast like a bullet in the night, towards Wylan’s arm where his sleeve rode up ever so slightly. Wylan pulled the fabric down, hid his arm behind his back, fidgeted.

“So that’s why,” said Kaz, and he said nothing more.

“Is that why?” asked Jesper, days after that felt more like years. It still felt odd, looking into a mirror and seeing his own face look back, not Kuwei’s. Down to every detail, the length of his eyelashes, the curve of his brow.

I was paying attention.

That felt like ages ago. An eternity ago. The two of them sat side by side, enjoying the brief moment of peace they’d get before following through Kaz’s plan. Before they’d wreak havoc on the Church of Barter, bring down Jan Van Eck and Pekka Rollins in one night, rescue Kuwei and call this job done and over with.

Wylan turned to look at Jesper’s face. Rather than answer, he pushed his sleeve up, showed the ink on his skin and the name he now knew belonged to the boy beside him, who traced every swirl and every loop and every tail with his eyes and fingers, barely a breath on Wylan’s skin.

“I could never read it, you know,” said Wylan. The words were heavy still, and they sat on his tongue for a moment longer, unwilling to be spoken into existence. But Jesper was safe. There were no words or fists to beat back the truth now settled between them. “But having someone read this for me felt… wrong somehow. Like I was handing something personal off to a stranger.”

It was answer enough for Jesper. “Couldn’t read mine either.” He turned around, pushed the collar of his shirt down, showed Wylan the sharp, angled writing on the back of his neck, where Jesper himself could never see. “Mom had to read it for me.”

It was funny, in a way, and they both chuckled at the irony. “Would you have done anything differently if you knew?” Jesper asked, tracing the name -his name- on Wylan’s skin.

“Would it matter? I didn’t fall in love with my soulmate. I fell in love with Jesper Fahey.”

“Jesper Llewellyn Fahey,” said Jesper, tracing each letter in time with his cadence.

Wylan closed his eyes and just listened. “Jesper Llewellyn Fahey.”

“Jesper Llewellyn Fahey.”

[imlostinsantacarla]

Title: The Golden Serpents (Jane Volturi x Reader!Platonic)

Summary: The reader (a savage newborn) finds themselves before the Volturi in which to pay for the awful crimes they have recently committed. However, during the course of their brief trial, something ignites the darkness in them, something they desperately wish to keep at bay. The brief ordeal creates an electrifying show that wins them a high place in the Volturi... snug between two ominous cherubs for all eternity.

Word Count: 2,534

Warning’s: this is not a love story!, violence, pain, semi-manipulation?. let me know if I’ve forgotten anything.

Proof Reader: @roslaeahle​ ( literally, tysm for your help!! (: )

A haze of golden honey illuminated freely from the arched windows, high up in the throne room on a hot Italian summer’s day, and onto the empty space before the long standing kings of the vampire realm; a place designed for criminals such as yourself, destined to enunciate all of the cruel and dreadful crimes that you had committed. The most vital of all was the fact that you’d foolishly made yourself aware to the humans of Volterra with your savage newborn hunger, a dangerous testament to the knowledge your maker deigned to share before they had abandoned you during your painstaking change; leaving you at the mercy to the roaring dryness that impaled your throat every single time that the scent of luscious blood and bounding sounds of pumping hearts caught your senses.

In frequent cases, a newborn would have been extinguished without a single thought, but the stories and mental visions of your beauty and power was breathtakingly scrumptious to Aro that he simply could not risk the chance of allowing you to part with this world without witnessing it for himself first. It would be all too deviant of him and his fellow kings to allow such a vital and alluring gift to go to waste in the depths of hell, particularly so soon in the immortal life. 

So here you stood, your frame twitching with an edge to it that was impossible to curb away without any form of frequent and strict lessons dedicated towards control, and your feral gaze cast itself in swift shifts across the room, picking up the porcelain faces surrounding you, those rich ruby orbs gazing into your soul with a piercing ache that only centuries of being cooped up could and would create. You were a young deep beauty, innocent to them, yet with the power to tear them apart in an instant if it wasn’t for the largest of this unruly coven holding your arms behind you with a force that could rip them off in one sudden move. The restraining grasp caused your eyes to strike with a vivid shine, twinkling so intensely with the blood of your beloved victims, none of the three kings could find even a scratch of sympathy for what you had done in your liquid gaze.

“Demetri, Felix,” The man in the middle with skin that appeared as thin and delicate as tissue paper breathed with a higher purpose, it only left your knees buckling and your breath hitching in your strong chest. “Bring them forward to me.” His eyes locked onto yours as they pushed you forward, hands still attached to you, without a second thought. Your knees crushed the ancient stone beneath you, smashing it like soft butter. Your breath halted once more and altogether, a now meaningless exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide, and your almond shaped eyes shut instantaneously, crinkling at the edges of what was to come.

“Now, now my dear…” He breathed, hand smoothing your frizzy yet smooth hair, though his voice was like a sociopathic angel’s, “no need to be frightened. I just want to see.” And the way he said it created an imaginary set of  goosebumps to rise onto your frozen flesh before  the tips of his fingers smoothed and skimmed over the apples of your icy cheeks, as though he were brushing away the tears that should have been there. An act of such false compassion, you wished he’d already let them kill you. But he only left you with a sense of intrusion and violation as he read your thoughts with no permission, as though you owed it to him in conjunction with your everlasting loyalty.

An eerie chime escaped his mouth as he tipped his head back and cackled. “So interesting! So powerful!” He gushed with the intensity of a child, a totally different personality from the fierce and terrifying judge he had been only two minutes prior when you had been silently begging for your life.

Your eyes snapped open with fierceness whilst a pulse of electricity flared through your veins, serpents dancing in and thawing out every frozen cell of your body, bringing you to life. He withdrew his hand with the help of a woman behind him, a shield coming up to block the physical attacks you so desperately wished to inflict on him and him alone. Your eyes began to shift from the vividly crazed crimson to a deep and golden amber, your hair wild and curly, fluttering from the way your body seemed to vibrate. With a flick of his fingers, Felix and Demetri lunged at you with such calculation you were surprised you managed to catch them the way you did, arms spread out, hands gripping nastily around their strong throats, though your strength didn’t last long; Felix was just as strong and overpowered you in mere moments, forcing you to your knees a bit further back.

A yelp of pain illuminated from your lips before your changed eyes settled on a cherub-like child with a mop of brown hair on top of his small head, but what horrified you the most was the velvety smoke of black sliding from his wrists and down onto the ground, crawling with a purpose, like a black jaguar, jaunting and calculated. You had a sense it would damage you in ways you could not possibly fathom, which frightened you the most. And as panic settled, you struggled uselessly against the two vampires restraining you until the smoke was an inch away, threatening to suck your senses into it and leave you with nothing.

The electricity burst from your being, colliding with the two vampires that restrained you and hurled them back into the wall a hundred feet behind you with such force it pulverized the stone bricks that  they’d smashed into. They dropped to the ground with a crash, two lumps of granite no longer in control of their bodies but fully aware of what was going on. You slid back with the force, attempting to distance yourself from the ominous smoke, though it did little to help as it followed you with a mind of its’ own, delirious for the fact it wanted to consume you like a mouth-watering meal.

From the sides of your torso jutted out two golden silhouettes, slithering viciously with scales so detailed they appeared to be living priceless art. Mouths became agape at the beauty they relished, the smoke halting in place for a fraction of a second. They ejected from your sides, coursing with lightning only Zeus could possess before they hurled themselves at the young boy…

In all your life as a human, you’d always buried your darkness so deeply, but in your new form all it wanted was to escape it’s repression and wreak havoc; almost a pitiful revenge against the angel-like side of you. And for most of your mortal life the good side had been winning, but you were finding in your new body that the darkness was the only way for you to prominently survive out in this harsh world full of ghouls your parents had once told your over active imagination nor to worry about. And you couldn’t even remember if you were sorry to let this dauntless part of you inflict damage onto others or not… It had been so very long since you had allowed it at center stage.

A monstrous crack erupted through the focused room and the brown haired cherub buckled to the ground with a scream you swore your heart was torn in two. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you needed. Death was surely better than this, wasn’t it?

A scream tore your attention from the boy, a small girl, barely thirteen and just as angel-like as the boy made eye contact with you. For a moment all you could focus on was her delicate fare features, so snow-like she appeared dead; and her hair was as white as angel feathers, it almost made you smile. But before you could react, an agonizing pain seared through you as though somebody had branded you with a glowing red hot iron rod, as though you were boiling alive. And you screamed so loudly your knees buckled beneath you and had you writhing in place, your serpents of liquid electrifying gold fell to the ground, squirming on either side of the boy, attempting to return to the vessel from whence they came from. A sob raked from you as you sucked in air. You felt as though you were drowning, so much pain erupting in your lungs you felt lightheaded.

And what felt like centuries that drew on and on were only mere seconds before Aro lifted his hands and murmured softly to the poor little girl who had tortured you. The pain halted and you laid there painting for a few moments, exhausted but taken back by the breathtaking beauty this child-like creature bestowed. You were almost glad you never got to officially come face to face with her brother’s powers.

“Enough, Jane.” The snow white haired man uttered, articulating each syllable with importance. She stopped, though would not quit staring at you with the anger and rage of a child; the dangerous look of vengeance plastered on her countenance. She was unhappy with you and a part of you wasn’t bothered by it at all, only grateful that someone had stopped you from combusting under her cruel glower of hatred.

You sat up just in time for the other guards to begin regaining feeling in their limbs, their red eyes still staring at you unblinkingly. The serpents deftly slumped towards you, wriggling up and down more like worms now as they sought out the comfort of your ice cold body, their vessel in which you carried them. A sigh of relief broke out of your slightly parted dry lips as they molded into you once more, an exhaustion taking over you whilst they settled, nestled inside of your embrace like injured children needing nurturing reassurance.

“I think we may have come to the conclusion that a gift such as yours, although we know little about it, may provide some astounding service to our coven.” Aro spoke up, legs crossed as he stared down at you with eyes that scared you; eye lit aflame as though he would personally kill you himself if he could not have you in his collection of gifted vampires. You swallowed thickly, chest rising and falling, rising and falling and repeating for several minutes.

“I would advise you to accept the offer with the utmost of gratitude.” Caius snapped immediately, a glower settling his countenance immediately, “It’s a gracious gift after you broke the most eminent law of our kind. One in which your creator should have informed you on, but I am sure we can find him or her and bring them in to punish them for the crimes they allowed you to commit.” He snarled impatiently, tightly gripping the armrests of his black elegant throne.

“I rather don’t think that’s necessary, Caius. We do not seek out punishment on those that did not do the crimes.” Aro stated matter-of-factly, leaning back in his seat as his eyes never left your frozen form. Caius went to open his mouth but with a wave of Aro’s hand Caius clamped his clamped his mouth shut with much reluctance. “I mean, after all, how could she deny such a wonderful opportunity to provide such a charitable role in our coven?” The way in which he stated this made you wonder if he really meant what he was saying.

“So, what do you say, (Y/N)? Will you join us or will you leave us?”

“I will join.” You hummed the words so softly it only sounded like a sigh to you, but was enough confirmation for Aro.

“Wonderful!” Aro clapped astoundingly, rising from his seat with an excitement that put you all the more on edge. You tilted your head to the side, wondering what on Earth had created him into being who he was now. A bewilderment shot through you, a honeysuckle glow catching your breathtaking skin and illuminating it as though you were made of tiny crystals. You hadn’t entirely figured out what you had gotten yourself into, but there was a numbing of all those that you felt ties to at one point, a sudden sense of loyalty washing over you for the three treacherous kings before you. Two of them beamed at you whilst the other scowled as though he wished he were dead.

“Welcome then!” Aro clapped enthusiastically as though it were meant to be a warm welcoming, and others joined in too, the sounds of their stone-like hands ringing in your ears.

“Master Aro!” An innocent voice like honey rolled into your ear drums as you turned to face it’s creator. The blond little girl’s eyes flickered from you to Aro and then back again.

“Yes Jane?” Aro seemed to soften his features towards the girl before him, as though she were his prized possession. You shivered at what you noticed and waited patiently for her to respond.

“Does that mean we get to keep them forever? Alec and I can play with them whenever we want?” The way she said it was a little eerie, but innocent and round as her crimson eyes.

“Yes, dear Jane. (Y/N) is now apart of our coven and here forever. You can play with them whenever you desire.” He rubbed his hands together before placing them over his mouth to suppress another giggle of terrifying joy.

“Yay!” She squealed, dragging her brown haired brother to his feet and skipping over to you with the grace of an angel. She took your hand in her small one and looked up at you. “We’re going to be best friends, you and I. But before we can get there you have to apologize to Alec for hurting him like that.” Her little bottom lip dropped down into a small pout, eyes so wide they were like two full moons. She really meant it when she said it, the sincerity was there. It was strange because only moments ago she was tearing you apart from the inside, and now she had settled on the fact of being your best friend for eternity, on the condition that you apologized to her brother.

A smile crept onto your face as though you were under a spell and your head shook from side to side in amusement as you came to your feet, hand still holding her very own with a tenderness a parent had for their child. “Only if you promise never to do what you did to me again. Then and only then will it be a done deal.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement and she gave you a determined nod that you could have believed, but you knew deep down her temper was wild, unruly because she would always have the mentality and temperament of a young girl with a cruel past created by a terrible village so terrified of her and her brother.

If you enjoyed this please heart, reblog and follow for more. 🌙❣

[thiswasinevitableid]

the ot4 with the 'Trouble' prompt please

I went with SFW for this one! Barclay’s design is based on a Whale Shark, Indrid’s on a Bat Ray.

Joseph Stern, for servant of her majesty's royal navy, is absolutely and irrevocably fucked. 

He’s chained to a sunken tree in a bayou somewhere off the south eastern coast of North America. Its getting dark. And he has identified no fewer than four ways he might perish here. 

One: Exposure to searing heat

Two: Dehydration or starvation

Three: Alligators, which he has sight at least one of on the banks of a nearby river. 

Four: Sharks, sea monsters, or other horrors of the deep. 

He won’t drown; high tide’s come and gone once already and while the waves rose up to his throat, they did not cover his head.

This is all Captain Haye’s fault.

Their ship was transporting a woman, one Madeline Cobb, who Haye’s believed had information on a cache of gold to rival El Dorado. Stern shares his suspicion that the woman is concealing something. But he thinks hauling her from her Inn and holding her prisoner was not the right course of action. 

Hayes, unwilling to release Cobb or sail too far form where she may be hiding...whatever she’s hiding, had them going practically in circles, the men increasingly lobbying for a return to port and New Orleans. Worse, Hayes became convinced there were spies on board, working to free Cobb and keep the crew from finding its quarry. 

He settled on one of the first culprits being the cook they’d just taken on, Barclay. That Barclay was gentle as an old housecat and showed no signs of being known to Cobb other than delivering her meals, did not matter to Hayes. Stern argued as much, pointed out that there was no evidence of treachery, merely bad luck and incompetence.

(He omitted the part where he’d snuck into the galley more than a few nights; first to talk, or for a safe place to order his thoughts under a kind gaze, and later for a handful of kisses).

Barclay had simply smiled at him, told him it was alright; he’d rather Hayes throw him overboard than some other innocent soul. Then down he’d gone, Stern watching until no trace of him could be seen beneath the water, knuckles white against the wooden rail. 

He once again voiced his displeasure to Hayes, who accused him of trying to mutiny. In spite of his protests, none of the men came to his defense. He was not as hated as Hayes, but he was still an officer and therefore not well liked. 

So here he stands, marooned at the mouth of a coastal river, stripped down to his trousers, skin burnt and stinging from where salt water found the gashes left by the lash.

Off to his left, he spies two shadows in the water. Large, fast moving shadows. A fin, definitely not that of a dolphin, breaks the water. 

It is not his preferred death, by teeth and strong jaws, but in some ways it is preferable to the prolonged suffering of starvation and thirst. 

The fin is no more than few feet away, and the front half of the beast breaches the waves. 

It has a mans face, of that much he is sure. But it can be nothing other than delirium that explains whose face it is.

“Barclay.” His voice is mournful, cracked.

“Uh huh.” The merman swims to him, spotted grey tail just visible in the dark, hand brushing Stern’s side, “don’t worry, baby, I’ll get you free.”

He humors his imagination, “Of course you would try, but how…” He blinks as the world flickers and then Barclay is standing, tail long gone, modesty preserved only by a wrap of dark fabric. He reaches up, snapping the chains in two and Stern collapses, struggles to steady himself before hitting the water. Bu he doesn’t have to; strong arms pull him against  broad chest. 

“I..I’m not hallucinating am I?”

“Nope. Joseph, god, I’m so glad I found you.” As the large hand strokes his hair, he spies the second shadow in the water, once again too close from comfort. 

“Barclay we, we should make for shore, there’s something coming.”

“Hm? Oh, no, that’s just Indrid.”

“Who’s-”

A second merman emerges, turning smoothly onto his back to regard them. His upper body is lean and angular, his hair pale, and in place of a classic tail he has wide, black wings like those of ray starting at his hips, tapering down to a narrower tail. 

“Indrid Cold, a pleasure to meet you, Joseph Stern.” He flaps in a wide circle around them, “You see, Barclay, I told you we would find him here.”

“It’s not that I doubted you, just, god, god I’m glad to see you alive.” The embrace is almost painful against his raw skin, but Stern can’t find the energy or desire to care. 

“And I you. That still doesn’t explain how you’re one, not dead and two, a merman.”

“All in good time,” Indrid answers in Barclay’s place, “right now, my dear, we should retreat somewhere safe. Would you prefer to carry him, or shall I retrieve a boat?”

“Do you mind?” Barclay asks gently.

“Not at all. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined it.”

Barclay kisses the top of his head, scoops him up into his arms as if he weighs nothing. It doesn’t take much walking before they reach shallower water and then the shore. Indrid stays in the water as they proceed up-river, his unusual form allowing him to swim alongside them in the shallow portions. 

When they arrive at a small, yet well kept, house, Barclay opens the door and sets Stern on a bed. 

“You sure he won’t mind?” This he calls out to Indrid, still in the water.

“I am quite certain. This is Duck we’re talking about, remember?”

“A duck?” Stern’s vision is fading, the toll on his body finally registering.

A laugh, “No, ‘Duck’ is the guy who owns this house. You’ll meet him tomorrow. Here, drink this.” 

Cool, fresh water passes his lips, and even as he swallows he feels himself slipping into sleep.

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

The first thing Stern sees when he awakes is an unfamiliar man placing ups on a nearby table. He doesn’t see Stern is up, and so is humming to himself, off-key yet charming. His eyes are two different colors, and while he looks as strong as Barclay, he’s shorter and more fat sits atop the muscles. Unbidden, Sterns mind offers up the thought of what it would be like to be pressed between this man and Barclay atop the covers.

Too many nights at sea have made him desperate for the human touch, it seems. 

“Mornin’” The man is looking at him, smile friendly, “you must be Joe, er Joseph.”

“Joe is fine.” The casual name is welcome after months of being addressed so formally. And the way it sounds in the other man’s mouth is natural, as if he’s known Stern years.

“You must be Duck?” He sits up carefully, head still light from the ordeal of yesterday. 

“Yep. This here’s my place. Or, uh, really our place. Mine and Indrid’s. Barclay stays with us sometimes, sometimes he lives at the Inn nearby, since he’s Mama’s cook aw fuck, I mean uh, he’s, he ain’t ever seen her before, or me, uhhhh. Fuck.” His shoulders sag as he finishes the terrible lie. 

“It is alright, my love, I suspect Joseph does not intend on returning to Captain Haye’s.” Indrid walks in from the porch, his human form as lean and angular as his mer one. Red eyeglasses perch on his nose, and he’s more heavily clothed than Duck.

“Not a chance. Captain Hayes is a sadist and a madman and I never wish to see him again.”

Indrid grins wide, “Excellent. Now, let’s have a look at your injuries.” Indrid grabs a tin of salve from a shelf, “Because I see you are about to ask, Barclay will be back shortly with the ingredients for more of this, since it will take some time for you to heal.”  Indrid sits down behind him, deft fingers soothing the cuts and sunburned skin.

“He can see the future.” Duck says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, grabbing a kettle from the stove “coffee? Or do you, uh, prefer tea?”

“Coffee is fine. OW!”

“Apologies, that cut is a little deeper. In fact...Duck, my love, I believe he needs stitches.”

Ten minutes later, Stern’s back is still stinging, but is sewn up. Indrid had offered his hand for comfort, and even as Duck finishes cleaning up the cuts, Stern hasn’t released it. Indrid seems in no hurry to do so.

“Morning.” Barclay appears in the door, a basket in either hand, “found what you asked for, Indrid, and some berries and wild garlic too. Figure I can use that for dinner.” As soon as the baskets are set down, Barclay is kneeling in front of Stern, kissing him softly, careful not to set his hands anywhere too burnt.

“Glad to see you awake, handsome. These two treating you okay?”

“Hmph” Indrid crosses his arms in mock indignation, “how dare you impugn my manners, let alone Ducks. He’s a good southern boy, after all.”

“Indrid, I once watched you ignore a guest for an hour solid.”

“I was distracted  by some futures! Speaking of which, I ought to be off. There is a fishing vessel that will likely appreciate being warned away from a patch of reef that will tear its hull.” He leans across Stern to kiss Barclay briefly, then stands along with Duck to kiss him. Makes it too the door only for Duck to pull him into a much firmer kiss. Then there’s an elegant splash, and Duck turns back to them with a sigh.

“They were married a few months ago.” Barclay offers as explanation.

“I see….but, Indrid kissed you as well.”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh” Barclay scratches his short beard nervously, “Indrid and I were lovers a long time ago. When he turned up in these parts again after some years away, he only had eyes for Duck.”

“Even if he was shy about it. Had me a little creeped out at the beginnin, especially when he showed me his mer form without warnin.” Duck pours Barclay a mug of tea and hands it to him. 

“But eventually Indrid asked if I wanted to be with him again, even if it wasn’t real formal. So that’s what I did.”

“And it didn’t bother you?” He looks at Duck, who shrugs.

“Hey, Barclay’s a big fella; he’s got a lotta love to give. So do I, for that matter, and so does Indrid. Lovin’ one person don’t mean you can’t love another just as much, even if it looks a little different each time.”

“I see.” Stern takes the water Barclay offers him, afraid to meet his eyes.

“If, uh, if it bothers you, Indrid and I can break things off. He told me last night he woudln’t be upset if that was the price for you and me  being together. Said he hadn’t seen me as happy as I am when I look at you in a long time.”

That makes him look up, and Barclay is gazing at him with a gentle affection, the kind he thought he’d forfeited years ago. 

“I make you that happy.”

“‘Happy’ barely even describes it.” Barclay kisses him again, nuzzles his cheek before pulling back.

“I...I’m alright if you wish to continue that relationship.” He aims for a kiss, misses due to lightheadedness, and lands it on Barclay’s nose.

A deep chuckle, then “We can figure out details later, okay? I gotta go fish.” He stands, grabbing a pail, “back soon.” Then he blows Stern a kiss and is gone. Stern waits for the splash before laying down, being upright too much for his tired frame. 

“Here” Duck saunters over, munching on the fruit Barclay brought back, “gotta get some food into you. Be a shame for that body to turn all skin and bones.”

“Thank you.” Stern takes a handful and then, about ten minutes later, discovers he has eaten the entire basket. 

“You, uh, you gotta little” Duck is trying not to laugh as he makes a circle around his mouth with a finger. Stern wipes his mouth, succeeds only in smearing purple across his cheek, and Duck breaks, hiccuping giggles escaping him, the sound making Stern laugh in return.

“Good lord, only a day or so out of the navy and I’ve lost all decency.” Stern smirks. 

“From what Barclay said, sounds more like tyranny than decency that they run on.”

“He may be right. I was raised to follow orders; no one ever warns you what you are to do if the orders strike you as wrong.”

“Say ‘fuck it,’ in my experience.”

“I was hardly so vulgar and you can see where that landed me. Then again. Seeing the shock on Haye’s face when I argued with him was truly a pleasing sight. I can be stubborn when I wish to; perhaps I should have done so sooner.”

“Here’s to bein’ stubborn” Duck lifts his cup and Stern weakly clinks his water glass against it, “we oughta get you bath, both for the juice and the sand you still probably got in places. I’ll draw it up and help you in it.”

“No interest in keeping me company?” The salacious tone slips out before he can catch it.

“No, uh, fuck, not, not at, fuck, all.”

“Now you see why I ain’t one of the ones they sent on the ship to keep an eye on Mama.”

“What?” Stern sets the glass down with a thunk.

“Barclay and a few others on board really do know her. Not that she can’t get loose herself, but we wanted her to have back-up. This ain’t the first time someone’s come pokin around lookin for fuckin’ El Dorado or some shit and we had to deal with ‘em. Ain’t even all that much worth seekin out; some of the mers got real powerful magic, and there are some piles of lost treasure. But nothin like that Hayes fellas was imagining.”

“Are you all mermaids?”

“Nope. Me, Mama, and few others are human including Ned and Boyd-”

“Chicane and Mosche? The ones who signed on our ship?”

“Yep.”

“I thought they seemed suspicious, though I had not intention of telling Hayes.”

“ I wouldn’t trust either of ‘em further than I could throw ‘em, but sometimes the fact they’re damn good liars comes in real handy. C’mon.” He helps Stern up, leads him to a washtub out back near a pump, “you ain’t the only one of us to fall for a mer neither. I got Indrid, and my friend Aubrey is married to a mermaid called Dani.”

“Fascinating” Stern gingerly undoes his trousers, looks up to see Duck covering his eyes.

“Really?”

“Just bein’ polite. Now” fingers part and a green eye peeks through them, “let’s get you clean.

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

Stern heals little by little, looked after by the three men and the odd visitor. He learns that some mers take it upon themselves to learn how to transform into humans, that Hayes is still sailing aimlessly around the coast, and that sleeping beside Barclay is a thousand times better than he dreamed. 

He tidies the house in the mornings, Barclay either working or fishing, Indrid asleep or off on some mysterious errand, and Duck preparing to go to work in town (an arborist by trade, a fact that surprises Stern not at all, given how easily he talks about trees). Reads with his feet in Indrid’s lap in the afternoons, helps Barclay make dinner in the evening.

It doesn’t escape him, they way Duck smiles at him after he tells a horrible joke that the shorter man laughs at anyway. The way Indrid’s fingers linger on his skin when he hands him something, the way he’ll idly run his hands along Sterns arm or leg if they’re sitting side by side. 

The two still give Stern and Barclay space and privacy, but he can’t help feeling that there are times he wants them in bed as Barclay eagerly and lovingly fucks him. 

Barclay, of course, makes no secret of his feelings. He kisses Stern good morning and goodnight, cooks him elaborate meals, brings him flowers from the banks and bright shells from depths (Duck shows him how to make a box to hold the gifts from the sea, opening his own, one that once held cigars, to reveal all manner of tokens from Indrid).

But as he heals, Barclay asks on several occasions if he intends to stay, the question always nervous and hopeful. Stern keeps demurring. He’s considered dead, will be reported as such to any who knew him back home. But he’s a foreigner here, in more ways than one, fears he has no permanent place in this patch of the world, even though he’s certain Barclay would gladly make a home with him. 

Today such worries are far away, the four of them swimming in a clear, well-hidden lake. Duck, droplets still glinting in his dark hair, lays on his belly on a rock in the water. Indrid flaps lazily between them as Barclay gives chase to Stern. He’s asked him to, wanting to build back the strength and speed he lost while healing. 

“Gotcha” a smooth tail bumps his legs as Barclay embraces him from behind, “if I were a real shark, you’d be dinner.”

“Good thing you’re tame.” Stern splashes him soundly and he splutters, letting the human go. As he swims away, laughing, black wings envelop his waist and legs as Indrid surfaces, face inches from his own and arms draped over his shoulders

“Indeed. Such a tender creature as yourself would make quite a treat to ones like me.”

“Rays don’t eat people Indrid!” Duck calls from the rock, not even looking up. 

“Come now, my sweet, look at him. So enticing” the wings press him closer, “just waiting to be devoured. Wouldn’t you agree?” This he directs at Stern, who nods breathlessly and leans in for what he assumes is a kiss. 

Sharp teeth find his neck, nipping and sucking hungrily. He gasps, moans so loudly they can hear him in the city. 

“Was that alright?” Indrid pulls back, and Stern can’t tell if the question is meant for him or Barclay, who is watching them with widening pupils. 

“Lord, yes.” He whispers.

“Uh huh.” Barclay swims behind Indrid, kissing his neck before gliding over to Stern. Indrid leans in, and this time it’s the expected kiss, briny and sweet. Indrid lets out a soft laugh when Stern whines for another but gives it readily, spreading his fins to guide them through the water, the human finding he feels perfectly safe with his eyes shut. When he blinks them open, Duck is staring down at him. He’s about to open his mouth to ask a question when Indrid darts up to capture Duck’s lips.

“We talked about it this mornin’, Indrid and me.” Duck sighs happily, goofy smile directed Indrid’ way. 

“We were going to talk to you both tonight, but I could not resist a moment ago.” Indrid says sheepishly, “I have discovered just why Barclay has been so elated the last few weeks. Duck has as well.”

“You...it’s really alright with all of you?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Barclay’s tail runs up and down his legs, “if you’re all okay with it, I couldn’t be happier.”

“What do you say, Joe? Ready to give up sailin the seven seas and stay with us awhile?”

Stern nestles against Indrid, Barclay’s tail still teasing his ankles, and cups Duck’s cheek.

“You know, Duck, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

[impishnature]

Unexpected Playmate

AO3 Fandom: Don’t Starve Rating: T (Warnings for Don’t Starve levels of game violence) Summary: Maxwell learns some lessons from the most unlikely of places. A/N: A birthday gift for my lovely @atlasioh who wanted some hurt/comfort and I could not resist the idea once it took me <3 

"...Such a strange child."

The words left him in a soft hush, blanketed and muffled by the inky pitch black around the fire.

Maxwell blinked, sitting up straighter as he brought himself back out of his reverie. He was meant to be on watch for the rest of their rag tag camp, not zoning out with odd lingering thoughts. He hadn't even meant to say anything, amusement colouring his mind as well as fascinated befuddlement.

Luckily, the rest of the camp were already mostly asleep, or not paying attention to him anyway. There was still a strained relationship to the whole affair, but at least they trusted him enough with this that he felt less like he might be stabbed in the night.

It was probably this trust that had led him to people watch. After all, he had done many dastardly things to this group and yet once he had fallen from grace they had accepted him into their camp with minimal resistance. He hadn't ever expected that, not in all of his musings, so on nights like this when he had all the time in the world to muse, he couldn't help but let his curiosity run over the others, wondering just what kind of people he had dragged into the Constant with little remorse.

Good people, as it turned out, and ones that had more intriguing stories to tell and lessons to be learned from, than he had thought possible.

However, the events of the day were colouring his musings of the night as he found himself caught by the movement of a rather fuzzy, small individual in their group. Or rather, the collection of small, fuzzy creatures that he had brought into their camp without question and had been rather put out when the others had given him a smaller campfire to the side of the main camp to house his new 'friends' around.

Unfortunately for them, he had also decided to stay there instead of the main camp where they could look after him.

He was, after all, beneath the furry exterior- just a small child, and the others struggled to break through the urge to protect him, regardless of how he wandered off without them constantly.

It was all quite comical in his eyes. The boy had taken to the constant with stride once he had been changed by it. Whilst others feared the monsters, Webber had somehow made them into friends.

Again- fascinating. A feat he'd never expected.

So, with nothing else but sleeping bodies and the shrouded darkness of Charlie's abyss beyond the flames, his eyes kept wandering over to the small boy and his undesirable spider guests. He'd had to bite his lip from chuckling as the boy pushed them closer to the fire in their sleep, patting them if their eyes opened and mumbling soft things that didn't quite make it through the crackling of the burning wood to Maxwell's attentive ears.

Laughter did escape him though as the boy wandered off to the edge of the fire light, stumbling back with a rather large log to dump on top of the cracking flames and almost tripping with the exertion.

The sound caught his attention, the boy's head tilting as he turned and caught Maxwell watching him.

Maxwell tried to ignore the urge to look away and into the flames, as if he'd never been watching, it would be unbecoming to back down from the child's gaze as if scalded. He was the adult here, not some petulant, naughty, child.

Webber blinked at him, an unnerving gesture that he tried to not to shudder at. It wouldn't be so bad if his multiple eyes didn't blink at different times, what a ridiculous design flaw for a creature.

Maxwell finally broke eye contact when it became obvious the boy wouldn't, his new found curiosity in Maxwell eclipsing his own.

It didn't do him any good though. No sooner had he broken eye contact that the boy seemed to take this as confirmation that he could move and started towards him, skipping over like he didn't have a care in the world.

The one spider that was still awake trotted behind him, like some abhorrent dog trailing its master.

Maxwell tried his best to keep the disgust off of his face, but he was sure his ever present scowl wasn't all that much better. He pulled his gaze even further away, prodding at the fire as if it was the most interesting thing in the world and to deter any conversation.

"Want something?"

...It was a pity the boy didn't understand his social cues.

"No." He hadn't meant to be quite so sharp, glad that the others were not around to admonish him for his quick barbed response. But he did not want a conversation nonetheless, and usually with most, his raised hackles at least warranted a few steps back out of his personal space.

"Oh."

Maxwell relaxed slightly at the dejected noise, it wouldn't be long now until the boy gave up and wandered away again to his side of the camp.

What he hadn't expected was for the boy to get even closer and sit down almost in front of him to grab his attention back again.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow at him, irritated disbelief seeping through his words. "...I'm on watch for the night, remember?"

Webber beamed at him, his sharp, white teeth visible in the fire light.

Apparently the boy's sheer optimism rendered the rumbling snarl to his voice futile.

"Same! Keeping friends safe while they sleep." Webber patted the spider that had followed him, now curled up into a ball at his feet.

Maxwell scrunched up his nose in distaste, watching the small creature fidget and settle under the boy's ministrations. "I see." He coughed, trying to keep the repulsion out of his words this time, for some unknown reason, not wanting to dampen the proud expression on the boy's face.

His eyes flicked back down to the spider, it's fidgeting increasing as strange noises escaped through it's teeth. "What is it doing?"

Webber followed his gaze, a soft, happy coo slipping past his lips as he continued to pet the spider, scratching and soothing it as it slept. "Aww, I think it's having a dream."

Maxwell couldn't keep the revulsion from dripping off his tongue. "Disgusting."

Webber pouted, glaring at him. "Meanie."

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "I've been called worse." He couldn't seem to pull his gaze away from the strangely moving spider. It was like a compulsion, watching it twist and shake. He couldn't imagine anything in the Constant dreaming. Nightmares, maybe, but dreams?

Perhaps he shouldn't voice that though, he'd rather the boy left it asleep for as long as possible.

"What is that?"

"Huh?"

"On it's leg." Maxwell's eyes lingered on a leg that stuck out unlike the rest of it's scuttling mates, moving a lot more sluggishly if at all as the creature snuffled.

"Oh. An angry puppy got hold of him. But we taught the puppy a lesson."

"Ahh." Of course, there had been the baying of hounds earlier that day. They'd dealt with a few of them in camp, but they had been pleasantly surprised by the dwindled number of them.

Now it made far more sense as to how little there had been.

He tried his best to ignore the strange mix of relief and nausea that bubbled up in his stomach at the thought of Webber playing with spiders and getting rather more than he bargained for.

It also now made sense how he'd managed to bring back so much spider silk with him as well as his little troupe of friends.

"So, why exactly are you keeping it?"

Webber frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "Why?"

"It's injured. It can't be much use anymore."

"He just needs some food!" Webber's voice rose, aghast at the mere suggestion. "He'll be fine in the morning with some food."

"That's a waste of our resources." It was perhaps a little harsh, but a necessary lesson that the boy needed to learn.

Unfortunately, the boy just continued to glare at him, a pout forming as his hands clung to the spider instead of petting him now.

"That's not very nice."

"Maybe not. But everything must have a use in this world, surely you know that."

"He has a use."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow as Webber sulked, no longer meeting his eye. "Oh?"

"He's a friend. That's all the use he needs to be."

What was this painful feeling in his chest?

Maxwell coughed, trying to dislodge the strange sensation from his throat, hoping that he had somehow got something stuck in it instead of anything far worse in his opinion. "Right. Of course."

It was probably for the best that he didn't argue with him anymore, regardless of the strange feeling settling in his stomach.

After all, if he made the boy cry or similarly upset him, he was sure that he would lose the newfound favour that the others had bestowed upon him.

"I suppose..." Maxwell hummed as Webber looked back up at him, eyes suspicious. "You did bring back a lot of resources today that no one was expecting. Surely, no one would mind if you used a spider gland on your... friend here."

Webber's eye lit up for a second before dimming, biting at his lip thoughtfully. "Maybe... We'll wait until the morning to see if he's better on his own first. No waste."

Huh, perhaps some of his words had gotten through.

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment, Maxwell going back to tending the fire uncomfortably as the boy just sat stroking his pet without a word. He sighed as he watched the boy begin to sway, his eyelids drooping every few moments before he sat himself up again and the cycle began anew.

"You should sleep."

"Can't." A yawn cut out his words as he rubbed his eyes. "Gotta keep the fire nice and warm."

"I'm already keeping one fire lit, it won't be hard to do the other as well."

He didn't know why he offered, only that the words slipped from his tongue before he could really think about them.

"Really?"

Maxwell frowned as the boy stared at him. He was more subdued than he had been before, doubtful distrust leaking into that one word like a foul taste.

He was probably just tired, that was all.

"Really. So go to sleep already."

Webber stared at him for a few more moments, eyes wide and scrutinising regardless of how tired he had been only moments before.

"...OK." The small boy jumped up, scooping up the spider into his arms and scurried off to snuggle in amongst the warm, furry bodies he had left beside the other campfire.

Maxwell stared back into the fire once he was sure the boy had passed out completely, trying his best to push down the swell of guilt that beat in time with his heartbeat at how the boy clutched at his injured spider pet as if concerned about what Maxwell might do to him.

~~~

Time stretched strangely in the Constant.

Or perhaps it was just the absence of weeks, dates and days, the constant reminder of routines that embodied the real world that they had lost upon entering this one.

Regardless, Maxwell had no idea how long their group had been together anymore. It felt like mere days and endless aeons depending on quite how frustrated he was with them all.

He could, however, pinpoint that it had been an exact week since Webber and he had had their rather impromptu nighttime conversation.

How? Because the boy had been acting even stranger around him since, enough so that the others were beginning to notice it.

He'd already had to brush aside Wilson's concern and accusations. Taking them in stride that perhaps the boy had just remembered what he had done to him the first time they had met.

For some mind boggling reason, that hadn't reassured the other man, leaving him to also scowl and avoid him for a while.

They were all such emotional beings.

But because of their scrutiny, he'd found it in his best interest to keep an eye on the boy where he could, always making up excuses for why he was going the same way as him when they were out foraging for resources.

Definitely because of the other adults scrutiny. It had nothing at all to do with thoughts of hounds and spiders and Charlie.

No, nothing at all.

It also had nothing to do with making amends for some... unforeseen folly he may have made with his wording.

The trouble was, he wasn't quite sure which part of their conversation had made the boy suspicious of him again.

Not that it mattered- he wasn't keeping an eye on him for that reason... right?

Maxwell shook himself, going back to the tree that he had been chopping down, his latest excuse in following the boy. It did mean that he'd taken his eye off of him for a few moments but if the excuse was going to be believable then he had to have something to show for it. He paused to listen intently, huffing when he heard the boys inane chatter in the forest nearby.

He really didn't need to do much to follow him, he wasn't the most sneaky of creatures to track.

With a groan, he gave the tree one last thwack, the accompanying groan of the tree giving him a rush of satisfaction. Job done, he could once more focus on his daily task. For a little while at least, until he needed to get some more wood to make up for the hours he would spend babysitting so that he had a reasonable excuse when they returned around the same time.

Before he could bundle up the logs however, a loud high pitched shriek rent the air.

It was a sharp sound, one that drove through his heart and left him gasping, it was a sound of distress, of utter pain and it was something that he hadn't heard in a very long time. "Webber." The word came out as a puff of fear, his strides darting him off towards the sound without much thought into how it looked.

He stumbled through the trees, hearing more and more ruckus as he got closer, glad for the iron tight grip he had on his axe.

He may not be the best fighter but at a push he was sure he could be useful.

As long as he didn't accidentally hit one of Webber's little friends.

He came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the clearing, finally taking a moment to assess the situation instead of running blindly in.

It wouldn't do to hinder or make the situation worse.

It was hard to see anything with the multitude of creatures that were fighting in the open area. So many spiders- when had Webber gathered so many little friends? But that still didn't make sense as to why Webber had been-

Ahh.

Maxwell tutted, contempt colouring his face and his words. "Slobbering fools..."

"I kill now!"

The cry set off an alarm bell but to his relief the pigs were focused on the group of spiders encircling them and not the rather larger spider boy that he was more concerned about.

Or so he hoped- he couldn't quite catch sight of the blasted child.

"Come on, come on, where are you- there you are." Maxwell's eyes hooked on a spider that seemed to pull itself up out of the throng, thankfully at the edge of it all. He held a little hand up to his face, scrubbing up and down as if it hurt before coming out of it and turning back towards the carnage.

Maxwell cursed as he pushed back through the spiders, his high pitch yells carrying over to him with their disappointment and frustration.

"No! Stop! Stop fighting!"

Maxwell pushed into clearing just as a pig turned to the small boy running towards it, without a weapon in sight.

"You go smash!"

Webber shrieked again, propelled backwards by the pigs fist. Maxwell winced as his body scraped across the rough ground, smacking straight into a bush with another whining yell. Thankfully, the spiders descended again, just as Webber stood up on shaking legs, holding his arm at an odd angle. He looked ready to try again before his shoulders fell in defeat and he instead he bolted from the fight, scrubbing at his eyes as he did so, his other arm limp at his side.

Unfortunately, he was headed away from Maxwell as well.

"Blast! Webber!" He was already out of sight before the words could escape him. He darted out of the brush, giving the ensuing fight a wide berth as he followed the boy's path.

He hadn't got far.

Maxwell skidded to a halt as he heard sniffling nearby. He looked around in sharp, quick motions, spotting only a large boulder within the vicinity that the boy could be hiding behind.

He took his approach gently, not wanting to startle him into lashing out.

He'd rather not be attacked by a multitude of spiders if he could help it. That would be an awful way to go.

Maxwell poked his head around the rock, taking in the small ball of a boy, curled into himself, his head in his knees as he sniffled pitifully. "There you are."

Webber flinched, head snapping up to stare at him. "Maxwell!" He scrubbed at his eyes, trying his best not to wince as he used the wrong arm to do so. He stood up on shaking legs, leaning back against the rock and hiding his arm behind him in one quick motion. "Uhm- what are- that is- why-"

"I thought I heard a yell." Maxwell cut off the awkward words, not wanting him to freak out more than he already seemed to be.

"Oh." Webber looked down at his feet. "Was probably another spider."

Maxwell frowned. "Are you sure? You look a bit shaken up."

Webber shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Your face says otherwise."

Webber scrubbed at his eyes again, glaring up at him. "Does not."

Maxwell sighed, squatting down to Webber's height. "You're bleeding."

"No, I'm not."

Good lord, children were a pain.

"Then why is there blood on you?"

Webber stared down at his arm, face twisting sulkily as he pushed it further out of sight. "It's not mine."

"Oh, isn't it? Whose is it then?" Maxwell waited as Webber stared off away from him, ignoring him entirely. "You're a terrible liar, Webber." He shuffled closer still, inspecting the small scratch along his cheek as well with a soft tut. "Just let me take a look and get you all patched up. I think I've got some honey poultice in my backpack-"

"No!"

Maxwell froze, hand still outstretched towards Webber. He swallowed, mildly hurt at the rejection of his help. "Would you rather I took you back to camp so Wilson can take a look?" His frown deepened as Webber shook his head fervently. "Then what?"

"S'a waste of resources."

Oh dear.

"Now, how do you figure that?" Maxwell coughed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. It tasted strangely of guilt but he refused to acknowledge that.

Webber shrugged, kicking his feet against the rock. "Cause I haven't done anything useful today."

Oh dear.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Wilson was going to kill him.

"Nonsense."

Webber squeaked as Maxwell took matters into his own hands and picked him up. He propped him on top of the boulder so that he didn't have to squat whilst he did his work. The surprise didn't last long enough though, the young boy speaking up while he was rooting round in his bag for supplies.

"What's nonsense?"

"That you haven't been useful. You're very useful."

Webber shook his head. "Not today though!"

"And? You don't have to be useful every day." Maxwell rolled his eyes, tugging Webber's arm towards him. "Besides, are you saying you wouldn't help someone else at camp if they were hurt just because they hadn't been helpful that day?"

"No!" Webber tried to tug his arm away indignantly, before his eyebrows furrowed deeply and he shot Maxwell a glare. "But you said-"

"And you listened?" Maxwell smirked at him, or as best he could in that moment, when he really felt like grimacing. "Thought you'd know by now that that was a foolish idea."

Webber huffed, but didn't answer. Maxwell took it as a win that his shoulders relaxed and he stopped trying to pull away.

Perhaps he was getting somewhere with that mistake of his.

Not that he was trying to rectify anything, of course.

Webber kicked his feet as Maxwell tended to his wounds, trying his best not to wince or fidget as his arm was bandaged up and the cut on his face was checked over. At least he no longer seemed worried that Maxwell wouldn't help him, or worse would throw him aside like one of his spiders- a thought that Maxwell was pointedly trying not to let take root in his skull, lest the shame of it morph into something more. Instead he turned his gaze back to the way they had come, towards the little dots of light where the pig houses sat, his face falling and scrunching up as if he was trying not to cry.

"Why do they hate me?"

Maxwell sighed at the quiet utterance, hating how it tugged at his heartstrings.

Having a heart was really rather tiresome.

"You shouldn't take it personally." Maxwell pulled away to make them a torch as the gloom made it difficult to finish his work. He could feel Webber's eyes on him, though he stayed silent as if waiting for him to elaborate. Unable to take the silence, he did. "Spiders and Pigs are just natural enemies in the Constant. They can't help but fight one another."

"That's silly."

Maxwell chuckled. "Perhaps. But it's the way things are."

"Things should change."

Maxwell couldn't help but agree, and who was he to say what could and couldn't change after his remarkable fall from grace? "They should. But where would you start?"

"... I don't know. Somewhere. I'll tell the spiders off for attacking pigs."

Maxwell laughed. "Will you tell them off for attacking us too?"

"I do! Spiders understand once you give them food."

"But the others still attack us."

Webber pouted. "And you guys attack back. All silly. All of you. We can all be friends."

Maxwell nodded. "I guess we are all very silly." He finished tying up the last bandages around his arm, tightening it slightly before tugging at the knot. "How does that feel?"

Webber nodded noncommittally, his eyes still locked to the pig houses as if just willing them to understand would make it all come true.

What was this protective urge rearing its ugly head in his chest?

"Do you know the story of the three little pigs?"

Webber turned back to him, tilting his head. "Uh-huh?"

"What's the best thing a pig should make his house from?"

"Stone!" Webber chirped, kicking his feet again, easily distracted from his injuries and dismayed thoughts. Maxwell wished it was that easy when you were older.

"And what have the pigs here made their houses out of?"

Webber hummed, glancing over at the house thoughtfully. "Uhm... wood?"

"Then they better watch out, hadn't they?" Maxwell held out his arms to set Webber back on the ground. "Cause I'll huff and I'll puff-"

Webber squeaked delightedly as he was picked back up, his face beaming as he prodded Maxwell in the chest before being put down. "You're not the big bad wolf!"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep a straight face as the child laughed at him. "Oh, aren't I?"

Webber shook his head. "Nu-uh. You don't make noises like the doggies do."

Maxwell choked on a laugh.

"And Wormwood doesn't call you a woofer.”

...Oh the simplicity of childhood.

~~~

Somehow, even with a spider child practically hanging off his arm and talking his ear off, the other camp mates still seemed unsure about him.

Though, perhaps they knew, that a child's attention was about as constant as the tide. It ebbed and flowed depending on what new and exciting thing was happening around them.

One minute Webber couldn't look at him, the next he refused to so much as sit a few feet away from him, all with a drop of a hat as far as the rest of them were concerned.

Then again, he had arrived back in camp with a still mildly sniffling child, his head and arm bandaged up as well as he could- which considering he was hardly used to the task, was not the best.

The fact that Webber had got hurt at all if he could have prevented it, had instantly set some of them off, regardless of the small boy hiding behind his legs as if he was in trouble.

Then again, Maxwell was used to their ire so it was probably for the best they turned on him instead of that fearful scolding that appeared when talking to rather reckless children.

If anything he was rather less fortunate with Wilson's intrigued stare, watching the others snarl and snap whilst he redid Webber's bandages. There was a glint there, a thoughtful tilt to his head, like he knew that Maxwell was forcing the attention on to himself. Forever, the magician on his stage, misdirecting and corralling them as only he knew how.

He was even more unfortunate when he realised Wilson was still watching him when the others took Webber out of his eye line and that irritatingly protective urge reared back up again and plastered it's displeasure across his face. Or perhaps it was more how he relaxed as the small bouncing ball of a boy struggled his way back out of their grasp and scurried back to sit beside him.

...Apparently, he was trustworthy now.

...How naive.

But he guessed, only time would tell, if the others would follow suit or not, after this latest debacle.

~~~

The clinging didn't last for long.

And thankfully the defensive urge fizzled out along with it.

If the child felt confident enough to wander off on his own again, then he would rejoice in his much needed solitude once more.

There was only so... much he could handle.

At least while he'd been on a stage there had always been a general boundary between himself and everyone else. His own personal space, peace and quiet, that had been severely hindered and lacking since joining this confounding group of people.

Which was why it had been a relief to walk in the completely opposite direction that morning, out to gather his own resources without anyone else's input.

That is until he stumbled across his past.

Suddenly, being alone didn't seem quite so appealing.

He stared at his own visage, victorious satisfaction plastered across a stony exterior. His own face twisted in response, an ironic grimace marring skin and flesh. He raised a hand towards the cold carved rock, skimming over the details he remembered requiring in his monument. The outstretched arms, no longer a magician longing for an audience, but a king commanding the attention of one.

He could hear the laughter that wished to rise from the statues lips, that hollow crow that mocked and tormented so many.

He'd been so sure of himself, so eager to push the boundaries between Them and himself.

So eager to please.

It had been so easy to forget that he was just as much a puppet on a string to Them.

Looking back, he wasn't sure when it had happened. When he had changed.

He hadn't been that dark before the Constant, he was sure of it. Before he'd found the Codex.

What had he let Them do to him?

What had he done to himself?

When had he stopped caring?

Or more importantly- when had he started caring again?

"It seems so foolish now..."

Maxwell pulled his hand away from the rock like it burned, but in reality he felt cold. Sickly and clammy as he stared at his reflection- who he was, who he had once been.

He didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Careful now, eh? I don't want to wake up any more of those horses."

Blast.

He was not in the mood for company, especially not now. Not here.

Maxwell's flicked around, settling on a grove of trees off to the side. He darted there quickly, sinking down so as not to be seen, hoping that whoever it was would quickly continue their travels elsewhere.

"You know, I wouldn't mind seeing another. I still haven't figured out how they work."

Ah. Ever the scientist. Maxwell snorted, covering his mouth quickly. If he hadn't watched the other get resurrected over and over again across the Constant, he'd wonder how he'd never got himself into trouble with that scientific curiosity of his.

"I'd rather we didn't, please don't wake any more up, otherwise you'll be answering to Lucy."

"They're boring, they don't play chess properly anyway- hey, whats that?"

Oh drat.

How had he forgotten the rather obvious consequence of the area?

There was no way the others would just carry on their treks when there was a goddamn statue of him standing in all it's glory in the middle of a chess pieces lair.

He guessed he had Charlie to thank for that comedic affair.

...Thanks, Charlie.

His teeth clenched as footsteps got closer and closer to his hiding space. He closed his eyes as one of them whistled, a long, drawn out sound that was laced with disbelief but mostly dripping with sarcasm.

"Heh, he's a lot shorter in person, isn't he?"

Maxwell huffed, covering his mouth to stop from choking out a laugh.

He should be insulted. Offended. But honestly, he was far too used to Wilson by now to be surprised by his impertinence.

If anything he was rather relieved. The scientist had no idea he was listening, he could have said anything in that moment.

A slight to his height was about as good as he could have hoped for given the circumstances.

"Hey, didn't he come this way earlier? You think we can catch up to him?"

Maxwell scowled at Woodie's voice, tightening his curled up position on the floor to make sure they didn't catch sight of him.

No way was he greeting them now. Not if they wanted to converse about... this.

He tried not to sigh in relief at Wilson's non-committal response.

"Shame. Guess we'll have to make fun of him later, eh?"

His scowl deepened.

Heaven forbid he try to forget all of this ever happened.

Then again... he guessed he deserved it really.

"What do you think, Webber?"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow from his hiding space. There was a very pointed tone to that question, nonchalant and yet entirely focused.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was his way of testing the waters, now that he had the boy on his own.

Or well, in front of Wilson but that didn't seem to matter. Unlike him, everyone seemed to trust Wilson.

"Hmm?"

There was a thoughtful lilt to the hum, like Webber was contemplating a lot more than Maxwell could fathom from the tone.

Not that it mattered, obviously. But he was intrigued by how seriously he was taking the question when the other two had mocked his statue.

"We're still a little mad at him..."

Huh. Not as naive as he appeared.

Maxwell was oddly proud of the boy.

Pride. Yes. That's what that sharp feeling in his chest was.

"But only a little."

~~~

The camp had become a lot more bearable now that it was clear that he hadn't upset the spider child. The others were a lot more forgiving in their stares as well as their actions now that the boy ran up to him and chattered inanely at him no matter how hard he tried to dissuade the activity.

He also couldn't stand that knowing smile on Wilson's face whenever it happened.

Thankfully they had all lost interest recently as the seasons changed, and with it, a number of strange objects could be found around the area.

Useless, frivolous items, but he guessed there was a use in them, keeping up morale as they did.

Apparently yelling that he wasn't a vampire when they kept giving him the broken stakes they were finding only heightened their need to find more of them.

And so what if he brought back any he found to add to the growing pile that the others liked so much? It wasn't like he liked them. They were far too tacky for his taste.

It wasn't that he had found a gaudy ring, complete with eight little legs and thrown it towards a small boy. It wasn't his little happy shout of 'A friend for our finger!' that led him to collect more of the items because he might like them.

Not at all.

Never.

He wasn't sure what the others thought anymore as the small boy ran over with his latest find- a small fake spider dangling from a string.

"Maxwell, look! It's a fake friend!" He jiggled it in his face as Maxwell crouched down to take a look at it. "What do you think?"

"Hmm... I think I like the real ones better." Maxwell internally winced, waiting for that disappointed face he found he now loathed when he accidentally put his foot in it. He just couldn't quite keep up a filter around them when he'd never had to before.

Not that it mattered.

Webber grinned at him, eyes lighting up. "Really? Me too! But this is still cool. We should hang it somewhere." And with that he was off, leaving a bemused Maxwell in his wake.

A soft laugh brought him back to his senses.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd grown rather fond of the boy."

Maxwell huffed, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment as an indignant strangled noise sat at the back of his throat. He stood up quickly, dusting off his suit as he did so.

"Preposterous. It's a good thing you know better, Higgsbury."

~~~

A/N:  The quote 'Why do they hate me?' was what set this ball rolling. Poor Webber just wants some friends!! I had a lot of fun with game dialogue so hopefully none of this seemed ooc. <3 Hope you enjoyed! xx

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 14

Bucky’s POV

I didn’t trust her, not for one moment. Sure, I felt sorry for her when we found her, but that was it. We’d been making our way through the base in Siberia for a few minutes – me, Tony, Steve, Nat and Clint. Bruce was waiting out in the quinjet in case we needed anything demolishing by the big guy. The base was heavily armed and had a lot of Hydra soldiers, but it was no great issue to smash our way through it. After a while, we got to more heavily secured areas – fewer soldiers, but a lot more doors. Tony left one of his Iron Legions with us to break down the doors and went off with Clint to start the data retrieval process, vital to find the next base, and the rest of us carried on through.

We were pretty low down in the sub-levels by now and came across a row of locked cells. Typical Hydra interior design – concrete, damp, cold. Most of them were empty although the scratches on the walls and marks on the floor showed they’d been occupied once. Lucky occupants made it out, whether walking or carried, it had to be better than in. Fourth cell along and we found the first body, a young man. He was well muscled but I guess he didn’t feel too well given that his eyes had melted onto his cheeks and he’d bled out through his ears. Nat did a quick check but he was definitely dead. Two cells further along and we found another body, we didn’t check this one – from the smell alone we could tell this one was not going to be perking up any time soon. I pitied anyone who’d been near that smell for long, and then we walked along to the final cell and found someone else. Someone alive.

She was sitting on the floor at the back of the cell, pushed right back into the corner behind the bed. Eyes open and staring straight ahead, I thought she was dead until I saw her frantic breathing. She was pretty small, probably starved, but well-muscled, and heavily scarred. Her face was a mess, she’d obviously taken a heavy beating at some point and her teeth were smashed in and it looked like a broken cheekbone. Her hair had been hacked off in lumps, no doubt to attach electrodes at some point. I could guess what she’d been through, we’d passed enough rooms full of torture devices to guess, and I figured her mind was probably broken. If I’d been on my own, I’d probably have shot her, it would have been kinder. Nat probably felt the same, but Steve was with us and he’s nothing if not ridiculously honourable.

So, the Iron Legion blew off the lock and Nat went in. We thought she was probably paralysed with fear but as Nat got closer she could hear the start of a whimper, getting louder as she got closer. Nat, not known for her gentle ways, tried out a variety of ‘OK, we’re not here to hurt you’ and ‘sshh’ then the girl stood up, fast. Standing you could see she was even more hurt than we’d thought. At least three of her fingers were broken, there was dried blood and fresh on a number of wounds, burn marks, cuts, you name it. Her ribs were standing out and it was surprising she had the strength to move but suddenly she attacked. Nat was fast, of course, and fought back, and Steve stepped in as well and managed to get a tranq into her but she was strong. She’d obviously been enhanced, and that was when I started to worry about what we were taking on.

Steve took her back to the jet while Natasha and I finished checking the base. We had a few Hydra agents captive – Tony and Clint had already called in Jarvis to send a carrier – and quite a few bodies. I loaded up some of the equipment that Tony wanted to investigate, left them to finish up and headed to the jet.

Bruce had secured the girl with restraints, although if she was enhanced I doubted they’d hold, so he had given her another dose of sedative. I got everything loaded and Nat started the pre-flight routine and then set us on course for Stark Tower, before setting autopilot and coming back. The four of us stood and looked at her. She was, quite frankly, unappealing. Filthy, starved, broken and highly dangerous. She was obviously young but she was a Hydra tool. I knew what that meant, I’d been one too. I kept my thoughts to myself though, and waited until we all got back.

Once we were at Stark Tower, Nat and I got on with unloading and reports, while Steve and Bruce, the softer-hearted ones, took her up to the medlab. She was still sedated, so Bruce brought in one of our on-call doctors. By this time, I’d headed up to the medlab too to patch up a few cuts. The doctor whistled when he saw the state she was in – and he was used to us – and set about his work. Antibiotics, fluids and nutrient IVs, wounds cleaned and stitched, basic scans done. Result: she was definitely enhanced. She had severe internal and external injuries. She’d survive. He talked to Bruce quietly about sedative doses then arranged to send a nurse to help with the basic care and left.

Tony and Clint were back by now, Hydra agents handed over, data transferred for later research, so all of us stood over her and waited for each other to speak. It was Steve who started. “We have a duty to help her…” was all he managed before I said “she’s probably a killer. There’s almost certainly no humanity left. She’s a liability”. Steve looked at me and said what I’d been dreading: “so were you”. After that I didn’t have a leg to stand on and so I watched as they moved her down to a secure room, the nurse came in and cleaned her up, and the ball started rolling.

It was about a week later that she woke up. The nurse had been changing her IVs and shed’ been healing before our eyes thanks to the serum. The doctor could see no reason to keep her sedated so we’d thanked them, paid them off, and agreed to take turns keeping watch. It was Bruce’s turn when she finally woke and by the time Jarvis had the surveillance up on the screen, Steve and Tony had got down there and she had a broken piece of metal at Tony’s throat. Nat held me back from going down, pointing out that there was plenty of strength in that room to deal with her, and anyway, hadn’t I always wanted to have a weapon against Tony’s throat. We listened and watched as they talked to her calmly, then asked her name, and then she fainted. Once she’d dropped, Tony rubbed at his throat and all three looked awkward before Tony spoke. “OK, so, any bright ideas?” They tucked her up again and left, and we had yet another discussion about what the hell to do.

The next time she awoke, she was alone but Jarvis had been monitoring. Bruce and Steve went down, and Nat and I were watching on screens nearby. We saw her, well, do nothing. Come out of the bathroom, see them in there and then suddenly they were across the room. Nat and I were off and running long before we saw them stand up. Straight into the room, and straight in to her, knocking her over, and ready to kill. Steve and I had too much history and I saw red when I saw him in danger. If it hadn’t been Steve’s voice telling me to stand down, I probably wouldn’t have. I saw ‘threat’ and I acted instinctively, but his voice broke through, so I stopped and then all of a sudden we were giving her clothes and outside the room, where I stood and glowered as Bruce and Steve discussed next steps.

I did NOT trust her. Bruce had us all sitting in a little circle to make her feel at ease but I sat poised to jump and I knew she picked up on it. I saw her jump when Jarvis spoke and knew she was tensed, but so far she hadn’t attacked again. It was just a matter of time.

Over the next few weeks, she stayed in her room but awake. She ate and slept and people went in and out to talk to her and she looked relaxed but I knew it was fake. Jarvis was watching her, in addition to trying to identify her, but I spent long hours at the surveillance screen, looking for any sign of threat. Then Tony decided it’d be a great idea to get her out into the Tower. You can imagine my reaction – a Hydra weapon, a potential Hydra agent, free to wander? But everyone was taken with her by now, thinking she just needed a hug and some friendship and she’d be saved. Steve and I had a stand up shouting match about it, with him pointing out that I was no different to her, and me responding that that meant I knew how much danger she was. Seemed like I was on my own. I was glad when she freaked out leaving the room, it gave us a bit more time, but it also surprised me. She looked vulnerable, not something I was used to with Hydra, and suddenly I started seeing the kid she was, superimposed on the threat.

When she made it up to Bruce’s lab and Jarvis let us know she was going to be evaluated, I ran straight up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. I wanted to see what she could do, but I also wanted to be there as protection. When I got there she was already running and she kept going so long we all started to relax, eating popcorn and making bets. Eventually Bruce got her to stop and she wasn’t even breathing hard. Then Tony got Steve lifting weights alongside her and we all started to realise just how enhanced this frail little broken kid was. Funnily, seeing that strip of nothing kid lifting weights made me feel more protective than I had when she’d been sedated and no danger.

When Nat challenged her to fight, every instinct said this was a bad idea. Running and lifting was one thing, facing off against a real opponent was another. I let them fight for a bit, both as good as each other, then decided I’d join in. I wanted her to know that I was there to protect my friends. What I didn’t expect was that she’d decide to take on both of us. Or that she’d win. Within a short time, I could see the blood lust rising and I knew her Hydra training was taking over. Alarm bells were ringing because she was GOOD, and when she hit us with some kind of mind power and we ended up on the wall, I thought that was it. Then I saw her blink herself back to reality and consciously reject her training, although it must have taken a hell of a lot of willpower. Knowing Hydra, she had built-in reflexes that were giving her immense amounts of pain and punishment for refusing a kill, but she didn’t show it, just did the right thing despite the personal cost. She let us down, unhurt, and I realised that maybe, just maybe, she could be OK.

I waited and watched her while everyone left and realised she was on the verge of panic again. I didn’t sense danger from her, just fear, and realised she was incapable of moving, so overloaded with pain and confusion. I helped her back to her room where she sat and shut down, a tactic I was used to from Hydra overload. I waited with her and watched, and started to rethink my earlier doubts. This girl was powerful. Strong enough to kill all of us. But she seemed desperate not to and she’d overridden Hydra training. Maybe she could be saved. When she looked up, I told her to shower and went to collect food for her, knowing that she’d need to be ordered around and treated functionally for a while. To get upstairs and find out they knew who she was was a shock – and then hearing her story was even more of a shock. Now I definitely could see her as just a kid. A tortured broken kid, who needed a second chance. At least when they’d taken me, I was an adult. I’d chosen to be a soldier. She was just a teenager who had mind powers Hydra wanted.

When I told her her name, I could see hope flash in her eyes, that she could be more than a weapon. We left her to read the research herself, but I couldn’t help watching on the monitors. I saw her read and cross-check everything, looking up occasionally as if to test what she was reading against her memory but getting frustrated. Then she hit the images and suddenly I was calling to the others that she was having some kind of fit. I’d thought sedation might help and it was only when she told Bruce that she’d been locked in her head as every memory flooded back that we realised what we’d done. Just from the few memories I had of my time with Hydra, most of them being wiped away, I knew the torment she must be feeling. Six years of torture and grief. I hadn’t trusted her when she knew what she’d been through, but now that she remembered everything, I made it my mission to save her.

After that, I spent every moment I could with the kid. I wanted her to know that it was possible to get free of Hydra in your head, and to find a new life. I felt her watching me and sure, I enjoyed a bit of her hero worship over the next few weeks and months. I knew she trusted me and felt safe with me, despite our rocky start. She knew I understood but didn’t pity. When she decided to throw herself into her new mission of worldwide Hydra destruction, I had to ask the others to help. She couldn’t see that it was impractical, or dangerous, and she didn’t realise that she had to find more to her life than that. I spent more and more time with her and watched the humour start to come out, despite the fear. I liked her, a lot.

I’d thought I saw her as a little sister, right up until Nat got her dressed up and fancy for Steve’s ‘be a person’ plan. Heck, she was not a kid. I’d been so used to seeing the skinny and fearful, broken toothed and raggedy haired wretch that I hadn’t noticed she was gaining weight – and curves – her scars were fading and she was not a kid. She was beautiful. Sure she looked awkward and uncomfortable and ready to kill, but the fact she had no clue what she was like was endearing. I saw the others staring at her in surprise but she stuck by me. I kept my leg pressed against hers throughout dinner and felt hers shaking with nerves but gradually settling as she drank a fair bit of wine. When she fell asleep against me, I’d had a fair bit to drink too and it made me realise that I was in pretty deep now. I still felt protective, but the way I was feeling now was a long way from what a brother should feel.

[kireon]

Store Bought Hero

x-posted from my writing account as well as my author blog.

If natural heroes didn't work, store bought was fine too.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself. It becomes a mantra as you peruse the discount racks at your favorite clothing store that definitely does not start with 'K'. Setting aside the whole ‘escaped from the lab you were created in’ thing, you haven’t noticed any serious differences between natural heroes and the lab created ones ('store bought', as they say) except for the whole income disparity thing.

Oh, and the sponsors.

Everyone knows natural heroes shopped at Gucci and their sidekicks at Macy's, bare minimum, they simply must be outfitted with the best at all times if they are to be known in the world. You can hear the professor from the labs’ rant clear as day even fifteen years later. While you definitely like a select group of brand name items? You have bills to pay, mouths to feed, and a gigantic fucking load of student loans on your back.

No rich parents, tragic enough backstory, or sponsors for you: a 'store bought'.

With a sigh, you eye a sequined leotard and run your hand up and down the rough fabric. There is something satisfying about the way the colors shift from a too shiny silver to a lurid cherry red. You like shiny. You like shiny an awful lot, as a matter of fact, and that's how you got yourself into this entire mess in the first place.

"How was I supposed to know the stupid anklet was his downfall?" You grumble as you tear yourself away from the sequined nightmare. Restraint isn’t something that comes easily but you’ve had years to practice. A half-hearted paw through the racks of clothing marked at sixty-percent off or more reveals a pair of dark red pleather pants that might just make a good costume base.

"It's not like I walk around with my weakness in plain sight."

It wasn't even a decent anklet either; not even sterling silver or real diamonds or brand name. It was a cheap nickel plated piece of flash and the rash it gave you still itched even a week later. Some sort of curse for the unwary, or so the hero had claimed when you'd given it back to him a day later.

You neglected to inform him of your nickel allergy during the confrontation.

Well, maybe not wisely. You might have been able to get some sort of financial compensation outta him for the damage done to your skin. The rash and blisters did look really awful when he’d caught up with you and he looked horrified when he saw the results.

Heroes had that whole ‘do innocents no harm’ thing, after all.

You'd rather die than admit to anything so common as a nickel allergy, so you accused him of having a curse put on it. He ate up the accusation and used it to his advantage, as they all do. In exchange for falling for the good old fashioned sob story that was your life-- lightly embellished, of course--you had to become his sidekick as penance for your (petty) crimes. Also to completely remove the effects of this nonexistent curse.

After all, you were in ‘dire need’ of a good role model, yadda yadda yadda. You’d stopped listening to his moral prattling about the same time he tried to invoke the ‘daddy issues’ card. The last time someone had pulled that shit on you, they woke up woozy, confused, and completely unaware of the clown makeup as they walked out (pantsless) into the busiest part of the city. Waterproof makeup at that.

Just as a little extra “fuck you” to prove a point; you don’t like doing more than petty retaliation if you can help it.

You can be quite nasty, after all.

In the end, Hero McDadguy puffed up in his usual self-importance and gave you an entire fifty bucks towards a ‘basic’ costume and sent you on your way with a time limit. He was currently busy getting some frothy concoction at that one coffee shop just around the block. Far enough away that it’s a test of trust and boundaries but close enough he can close the gap and probably haul your ass in if he needs to.

The added caveat that you weren’t to embarrass him with your costume choice makes you want to do it even more. The only thing holding you back is the fact that you do have to wear the costume. In public.

Petty and spite take a backseat to pride and self-preservation.

Not like he was one to talk. He had that whole ‘90s cyberpunk meets Dad-on-Tropical-Vacation’ theme going on. Fanny pack, socks with sandals... the works.  You’d rather go to jail than try to figure out how to replicate, keep in theme with, or otherwise find something to compliment that mess.

You mutter that very thing under your breath while you snag a few promising pieces-- and the leotard because fuck self-control you deserve something nice-- off the rack and head for the dressing room to start trying things on. Twenty minutes of posing in the mirror in varying outfit combinations later and you ignore the request for 'photo evidence' of you behaving and call your oldest child instead.  

“Hey, what’s the name of that one bird that steals shit?” You ask as you shimmy into a pair of leather shorts with sequins on the ass. You’re definitely about ten pounds shy of ‘Juicy’, as the flashy hot pink word on your butt says, but this could very well be the start of something amazing.

“Maybe you wanna be more specific unless you want me to read descriptions for the next ten years?”  

Nat is much like you; level-headed, brilliant in school but woefully under challenged, and has the same smart-mouth that had gotten you slapped through a wall once or fifteen times in your early life. You would never lay a hand on your kids regardless of how mouthy they get with you and so have to find other methods of curbing their attitudes when they get too out of line.

There’s a lot of yelling and someone sounds like they’re on the verge of tears in the background. A muffled Nat’s voice tells them to ‘calm the hell down, it’s fine’ before they come back on the line.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as you sift through the tops for something that would go with it. This opportunity might be a wash with how little luck you’re having. Might be time for Plan B- especially if there’s a problem with the kids. Your hand lands on a peacock blue-and-green number that doesn’t look bad but isn’t quite what you’re looking for. Ugh.

It’d clash with that highlighter orange from Mr. I Sweat Burberry Cologne.

Your middle child’s voice is loud and clear on the line now. “If you buy those shorts I am putting myself into the Child Relocation Program and you’ll never see me again.”

You consider it for a moment. Mortal embarrassment of your thirteen year old or being a slightly less fashion disaster than you feel. Tough decision, really. You feel yourself smile after letting Morgan sweat it out just long enough.

“Clean the kitchen and I’ll consider it.”

The quintessential teenage shriek of fury and angst comes loud and clear through the phone. “I knew you were going to say that! You’re the worst!”

Some parents prayed against having a child born with precognitive powers. While annoying to deal with, it’s also a lot of fun to use against them. It makes parenting interesting and more of a game to see just which future the kiddo wants to avoid- or get away with. “

You feel your smile widen at the range of futures said kiddo has likely foreseen. You’ll have so much fun with this particular set of visions and using it like baby photos against them. “So did you clean the kitchen?”

“Duh!” A most indignant tone.

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Put Nat back on the phone.”

“Promise me you’re not buying those first.” Stubborn and firm. A bit of desperation there too. Not quite ready to beg but not all that far off either.

The way they say ‘those’ makes you laugh all over again. “I’m not buyin’ ‘em, don’t worry.”

“And that weird guy isn’t buying them either?”

Damn it. “Nope. He won’t buy them either.” So much for that idea. Maybe you could-

“No stealing them either!”

Double damn it. “Fine, fine; the shorts stay in the store.”

“Thank you.”

The phone goes back to your oldest. “So, about that bird?”

“Jackdaw, Magpie, Corvids.” You hear scratching of pencil on paper. Homework? At, you check your phone, two-seventeen in the afternoon on a Saturday? Your eyes narrow suspiciously.

Who is it you’re talking to and what have they done with your child?

“Corvids? Like crows and shit?”

“Yup. And no, I’m not a body snatcher.”

A grin. “Sounds like something a body snatcher would say.”  

Jackdaw didn’t have that something you were looking for. Didn’t roll off the tongue the way it needed to in your head when you imagined some Big Bad Villain spotting you mid-villainous speech. Corvid didn’t either. Crow wasn’t hitting any notes either.

Raven was absolutely taken by no less than eighty-three variations in your city alone.

Rook had some fun possibilities if you had actually bothered playing and learning chess. (You can’t; you can’t sit still or pay enough attention for that shit and you own that.)

Your eyes fall on the silver-and-red sequined leotard again.

You hear your prophecy cursed child screech in despair in the background and the younger two who have gathered to watch the show tell them to shut up.

Nat, ever patient and ever your child, smiles on the other end of the phone. “I think that’s the one, Magpie.”

Magpie... yeah, you like the sound of that one. Magpie it is. “It’ll make a good base; is Morgan--”

“McFreakin’ Losing It? Yep.” You can hear the sounds of pencil scratching against paper again. Curiosity overrules any possible ‘do not need to know’ that you and Nat sometimes stumble into.

“Okay, I’ll bite; what are you doing?”

“Fulfilling the prophecy as foretold by the ancients long ago.” if Nat’s voice were any drier, they’d be dust in a forgotten tomb. “I’m designing the rest of your costume so you’re not a total train wreck and Morgan can die quietly.”

“You’re my favorite.” You say as you gleefully stuff the leotard-- you’ve tried it on twice and know it fits like a dream-- back on its hanger and wiggle out of the shorts. A wiggle that almost ends badly for you, at that, and you can hear the brats laughing at you in the background as Morgan probably mimics how you just about bit it in the dressing room.

“Remember that when I inevitably try your patience in all of forty-five seconds.” Nat hangs up on you and you feel nothing but pride in the way these sassy children have grown up under your less than skilled thumb. You’ve not been the best parent or even the best role model. It’s funny what unresolved childhood issues and bad habits will do, but damn it you have given it everything you have up to and including your favorite line of ‘do as I say not as I do’.

That is your right as a parent, goddamn it, to use that line and they can pry that right from your cold dead fingers.

They’re all good kids. They’re going to end up heroes in their own right with or without superpowers. That, above all else, is all you want for them so that they’re twice as capable as you’ve ever been in your life. Lab created and thus ‘store bought’ or natural born; it doesn’t matter and it never mattered to begin with.

Heroes are heroes in the end and the world could always use another helping hand as it spins through another chaotic cycle.

Your phone beeps and you glance at the text message.

Black thigh high socks. Get two pair. Amazon sucks for deals rn.\

U r not my fave >:(

You scowl and wish the walls would burn as you unfold the crumpled bills at the register. You don’t need Morgan’s gift of prophecy to know what that text message says and yet, like a fool, you look down at it anyway.

There’s a photo of all five of your grinning children holding up score cards. All of them holding 10s.

All of them dressed in Hawaiian shirts.

You have never felt so betrayed in your whole life.