#if it's not on here. i didn't watch it or didn't care

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 17: Breaking Point

"Excuse me?" you said, your voice dangerously quiet as Hongjoong's words sank in. "What did you just say?"

Hongjoong straightened in his chair, his pack leader instincts making him double down despite the warning looks from his packmates. "I said that's what being mated means. Your priority should be the pack, your mates. Not some job."

"Some job?" you repeated, your voice rising with each word. "SOME JOB? I am more than just an omega, Hongjoong. I'm more than just your mate. I'm a person with skills, with ambitions, with a career that I built myself!"

"Nobody's saying you're not—" San tried to interject, but you whirled on him.

"Aren't you? Because that's exactly what it sounds like. You're all sitting here discussing my life like I'm some problem to solve, some biology to manage, instead of asking what I want!"

Hongjoong's jaw clenched as he felt his authority being challenged. "What you want isn't always what's best for the pack. As pack leader, it's my responsibility to—"

"To what? Control me?" you snapped, taking a step toward him. "To decide my life for me because you think you know better?"

"To keep you safe!" Hongjoong shot back, rising from his chair. "The entertainment industry isn't safe for a mated omega. Tonight proved that there are threats we can't always protect you from if you're out there working—"

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," you said through gritted teeth. "I handled situations like that long before any of you came along."

Hongjoong's eyes flashed gold as his frustration peaked. "Like you handled yourself at the radio station?" he said coldly. "Because that worked out so well."

The silence that followed was deafening. Seven pairs of shocked eyes turned to their leader as the weight of his words sank in. He'd just thrown your most traumatic and vulnerable moment back in your face as ammunition in an argument.

Seonghwa's low growl cut through the silence like a blade. "Hongjoong," he said, his voice carrying a warning that everyone in the room could feel.

"Okay!" Wooyoung said with forced cheerfulness, jumping to his feet with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Who wants ice cream? I think we all need ice cream. Very soothing, ice cream. Helps with... tension and... terrible life choices in conversation..."

But his attempt at lightening the mood fell flat as everyone watched the fight drain out of you in real time. Your shoulders sagged as tears gathered in your eyes, Hongjoong's cruel words hitting exactly where he'd aimed them.

"You're right," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't handle myself. I froze up like a helpless omega and needed my big strong alphas to rescue me."

The devastation in your voice made Hongjoong's stomach drop as he realized exactly what he'd done.

"Y/n, I didn't mean—" he started, but you were already backing toward the door.

"No, you meant it," you said, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. "You all think I'm just some weak omega who needs to be managed and protected and kept at home where I can't embarrass myself or endanger the pack."

"That's not true," Yunho said desperately, rising from his seat. "Tulip, please—"

"It is true," you said with heartbreaking certainty. "And maybe you're right. Maybe I am just a weak omega who can't take care of herself."

You turned and walked toward the door with as much dignity as you could muster, which wasn't much considering the tears streaming down your face.

"Maybe I should just accept that I'm nothing more than a biology to be managed."

The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the house like a gunshot. Seven alphas sat in stunned silence, processing what had just happened, while their pack leader stood frozen in the middle of the room, watching the door his mate had just walked through.

Hongjoong's heart felt like it was being crushed in his chest as the reality of his words sank in. He'd used your trauma against you. He'd thrown your most vulnerable moment in your face to win an argument about control.

"Well," Wooyoung said into the silence, his voice flat and disappointed. "That was possibly the worst thing you could have said."

"I know," Hongjoong whispered, his voice broken as he stared at the door.

"Do you?" Seonghwa asked coldly, his disapproval radiating from every pore. "Because what you just did was cruel. Unnecessarily cruel."

"She was challenging my authority—" Hongjoong started weakly.

"She was defending her right to exist as more than just our omega," Yeosang interrupted, his usually calm voice sharp with anger. "And you threw her trauma back at her for daring to want agency in her own life."

"I didn't mean..." Hongjoong trailed off, knowing there was no excuse for what he'd said.

"You meant to hurt her," San said quietly. "To shut her down. To make her feel small so she'd stop fighting you."

"That's not—"

"That's exactly what you did," Jongho cut him off, his young voice carrying more authority than usual. "You used her pain as a weapon."

Hongjoong looked around at the faces of his packmates—disappointed, angry, some barely containing their own rage at how he'd treated their mate.

"Go after her," Yunho said firmly.

"She won't want to see me," Hongjoong replied, his voice hollow.

"No," Seonghwa agreed coldly. "She probably won't. But you're going to try anyway, because that's what you do when you hurt someone you love. You try to fix it."

Hongjoong nodded numbly, his feet already moving toward the door. Behind him, he could hear Wooyoung's voice, no longer comedic but seriously concerned.

"This is bad, right? Like, pack-threatening bad?"

"Yeah," came Yunho's quiet reply. "This is really bad."

As Hongjoong stepped out into the night air, heading toward the guesthouse where his mate was probably crying because of his cruel words, he realized that being pack leader meant nothing if he'd lost the trust and love of the most important person in his life.

He'd won the argument about authority and control.

But he might have lost his mate in the process.

---

The guesthouse door was unlocked when Hongjoong reached it, and he stepped inside with careful, hesitant movements. The first thing that hit him was the absence—the complete lack of your scent in the air. His alpha immediately whined in distress, a sound he couldn't suppress as he realized you'd put your blocker back on.

The loss of your scent felt like a physical blow, a rejection that went straight to his alpha core. After hours of being surrounded by your natural jasmine and vanilla, the sudden return to sterile nothingness was devastating.

"Y/n?" he called softly, moving through the small living area. "Can we please talk?"

He found you in the bedroom, and the sight that greeted him there made his blood run cold. You were methodically packing your belongings into the same suitcases you'd arrived with months ago, your movements efficient and emotionless.

"What are you doing?" he asked, though the answer was obvious and terrifying.

"Packing," you replied without looking up from folding your clothes. "If I'm such a burden to the pack, such a problem that needs constant managing, then clearly the solution is for me to leave."

"You're not a burden," Hongjoong said desperately, stepping into the room. "That's not what I meant—"

"Isn't it?" you asked, finally looking at him with eyes that were red from crying but completely devoid of warmth. "You made it very clear that you think I'm incapable of taking care of myself. That I'm too weak, too helpless to exist in your world without constant protection."

"I was trying to protect you—"

"You were trying to control me," you corrected, turning back to your packing. "There's a difference."

The sound of the door opening interrupted whatever Hongjoong had been about to say. Wooyoung and San appeared in the bedroom doorway, having come to check on the situation, and both stopped dead when they saw the suitcases.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wooyoung said, his voice rising with panic. "What's with the luggage? Are we going somewhere? Please tell me we're going somewhere fun and not... leaving."

"She's packing to leave," Hongjoong said, his voice hollow with the reality of it.

"Leave?" San repeated, shock written across his face. "Tulip, you can't leave. You're our mate. You belong here with us."

"Apparently I don't," you said calmly, continuing to fold clothes. "Apparently I'm just a problem that needs solving, a biology that needs managing. So I'm removing the problem."

All three alphas looked stricken, but it was Hongjoong who seemed to be spiraling the fastest. His alpha was already in distress from the loss of your scent, and now faced with the very real possibility of losing you entirely, his control was slipping.

"This is ridiculous," he said, his voice taking on that authoritative edge that had started this whole mess. "You're being irrational. It's just your omega instincts and your heat making you act crazy. You'll feel differently tomorrow—"

Your hands stilled on the shirt you'd been folding. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes blazing bright purple with omega fury.

"Did you just..." you said, your voice dangerously quiet, "call me crazy? Did you just dismiss my completely rational response to your cruelty as omega hysteria?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Wooyoung groaned, actually slapping his forehead with his palm. "Why do we keep letting him talk? Seriously, at what point do we just tape his mouth shut to prevent further catastrophic damage?"

San was staring at Hongjoong with horror. "Hyung, please stop talking. Please. You're making everything worse."

But Hongjoong, driven by panic and the desperate need to make you stay, seemed incapable of stopping himself from digging the hole deeper.

"I'm trying to be rational here," he insisted. "You're upset, your hormones are all over the place from your heat—"

"GET OUT!" you screamed, your voice carrying such omega authority that all three alphas actually took a step back. "GET OUT OF MY SPACE RIGHT NOW!"

Your eyes were blazing purple fire, your omega nature fully emerged and absolutely furious. The force of your command, backed by the mate bonds and your own considerable will, sent all three alphas scrambling for the door.

"OUT!" you screamed again, and they went, leaving you alone with your packing and your shattered heart.

In the living room, three alphas stood in stunned silence, processing what had just happened.

"Well," Wooyoung said eventually, "I think it's safe to say that went about as badly as it possibly could have."

"She's really leaving," San said, his voice small and broken. "Our mate is really leaving because of us."

Hongjoong said nothing, his face pale as the full magnitude of his mistakes finally sank in. He'd called her crazy. He'd dismissed her completely valid feelings as hormonal instability.

He'd lost her.

And this time, he wasn't sure there was any way to win her back.

---

Wooyoung burst through the front door of the main house with all the dramatic flair of someone announcing the apocalypse, which, considering the circumstances, wasn't far from the truth.

"SEONGHWA!" he called at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying that particular pitch that meant someone was about to die and it might be all of them. "CODE RED! EMERGENCY! OUR CAPTAIN FORGOT HOW TO PEOPLE AND NOW OUR TULIP IS LEAVING US!"

There was a thundering of footsteps as the remaining pack members rushed toward the sound of Wooyoung's voice. Seonghwa appeared first, his face immediately shifting from concern to alarm at Wooyoung's words.

"What do you mean leaving?" Seonghwa demanded, his alpha instincts immediately on high alert. "Where's Y/n?"

"Packing!" Wooyoung said, gesturing wildly toward the guesthouse. "She's packing her suitcases because our fearless leader here—" he pointed an accusatory finger at Hongjoong, who had followed him and San back inside, "—decided that the best way to handle an upset omega was to call her crazy and blame her hormones!"

"He did WHAT?" Seonghwa's voice dropped to a dangerous growl as his protective instincts flared to life.

"I didn't—that's not—" Hongjoong started weakly, but San cut him off.

"You called her irrational and said it was just her omega instincts and heat making her act crazy," San said flatly. "Those were your exact words."

The silence that followed was deafening. Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho had all gathered in the doorway, their faces showing varying degrees of shock and horror at this latest development.

"You called our mate crazy?" Jongho asked, his young voice carrying disbelief. "After everything that just happened, you called her crazy?"

"And now she's leaving," Wooyoung added, his dramatic flair giving way to genuine distress. "She's actually packing her bags to leave because she thinks we all see her as just a problem to be managed."

Seonghwa's expression was thunderous as he turned the full force of his disapproval on their pack leader. "How could you be so incredibly stupid?" he demanded, his voice carrying a level of anger rarely heard from the usually composed alpha. "After what she went through at the radio station, after everything she's been dealing with, you threw that back in her face and then called her hysterical?"

"I was trying to—" Hongjoong began, but Seonghwa cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"You were trying to control her," Seonghwa said coldly. "You were trying to make her feel small and weak so she'd stop fighting for her own agency. And when that didn't work, you attacked her mental state."

Hongjoong's face crumpled as the weight of his mistakes finally hit him fully. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said, his voice breaking. "I keep saying the worst possible things. Every time I open my mouth, I make it worse."

"That's because you're losing control," Yeosang said quietly from his position by the doorway. His analytical mind was already working through the problem, trying to understand the root cause. "Your alpha is all over the place. The mate bonds, the territorial instincts, the stress of managing pack dynamics—you're not thinking clearly."

"What do you mean?" Yunho asked, though his eyes were still fixed on the guesthouse where their mate was presumably still packing to leave them.

"Alpha leaders often struggle when they first find their omega," Yeosang explained, his voice taking on that lecturing tone he used when analyzing complex situations. "The instinct to protect and control can overwhelm rational thought. Hongjoong's alpha is seeing challenges everywhere—threats to his mate, challenges to his authority, problems that need solving through dominance."

"So he's basically going feral," Wooyoung said bluntly.

"Not feral," Yeosang corrected. "But his instincts are overriding his better judgment. Every time Y/n pushes back against his attempts to control her, his alpha sees it as a threat that needs to be neutralized."

"Which is why he keeps saying increasingly terrible things," San said with dawning understanding. "His alpha is trying to establish dominance."

"But she's not a threat," Jongho pointed out. "She's our mate. She's supposed to be protected, not dominated."

"Try telling his alpha that," Yeosang replied grimly. "Right now, his instincts are telling him that an omega who won't submit is a problem that needs correcting."

Hongjoong was staring at them with growing horror as they dissected his behavior. "That's not... I don't want to control her. I love her."

"Your rational mind loves her," Seonghwa said, his anger giving way to concern as he saw the genuine distress on their leader's face. "But your alpha is in panic mode. It's been triggered by the mate bonds, by the stress of the past few days, by watching other alphas claim her while you're trying to maintain pack order."

"How do we fix it?" Hongjoong asked desperately. "How do I fix this?"

"First," Seonghwa said firmly, "you stay away from her until you can get your alpha under control. Every time you open your mouth around her right now, you're making things worse."

"But she's leaving," Hongjoong protested, his voice cracking. "She's packing to leave us."

"Because of YOU," Wooyoung said, his dramatic tendencies returning in full force. "Because you keep putting your foot in your mouth and then shoving it down your throat for good measure!"

"Wooyoung's right," Yunho said grimly. "You need to step back and let the rest of us try to fix this."

"And if we can't?" Hongjoong asked, the possibility clearly terrifying him.

The silence that followed was answer enough. If they couldn't convince you to stay, if the damage was too great to repair, they might actually lose their mate because their pack leader couldn't control his instincts.

"We'll figure it out," Seonghwa said finally, though his voice carried more determination than confidence. "But Hongjoong, you need to understand—if she leaves, it's because you drove her away. And that's something you're going to have to live with."

Hongjoong's face went pale as the full weight of the consequences finally sank in. He'd let his alpha instincts override everything else—his love for you, his respect for you, his understanding of who you were as a person.

And now he might lose you forever because of it.

"What do we do?" he whispered, looking around at the faces of his packmates with desperate hope.

"We try to save our mate," Seonghwa said grimly. "And hope that she still wants to be saved."

The room fell into tense silence as everyone contemplated the magnitude of the task ahead of them. How do you convince someone to stay when your pack leader had systematically destroyed her trust and self-worth in the span of a single argument?

Yeosang cleared his throat, his analytical mind already working through possible solutions. "I hate to admit this," he said slowly, looking around the room with reluctant resignation, "but sending Wooyoung to talk to her might be our best option."

"Me?" Wooyoung squeaked, pointing at himself in surprise.

"He's..." Yeosang sighed deeply, as if the words were being physically dragged from him, "he has the charisma. And he's... hard to say no to."

The moment the words left Yeosang's mouth, Wooyoung let out an ear-piercing squeal of delight that made everyone in the room wince.

"OH MY GOD!" he shrieked, bouncing on his feet with unbridled excitement. "You think I'm charming! You think I'm irresistible! I KNEW you were in love with me, Yeosang-ah! I'll send out the wedding invitations as soon as we fix this whole 'our mate is leaving us' situation!"

Before anyone could react, Wooyoung launched himself at Yeosang and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

"BLEGH!" Yeosang immediately recoiled, making gagging sounds while frantically wiping at his cheek. "That's not what I meant! I meant you're annoying and persistent and she might cave just to make you stop talking!"

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Wooyoung said with mock sincerity, clutching his heart dramatically. "I'm going to treasure this moment forever."

"I'm going to disinfect my face," Yeosang muttered, still scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve.

"Can we please focus?" Seonghwa interrupted, though there was a hint of fondness in his exasperated tone. Even in crisis mode, Wooyoung's antics were oddly comforting. "Our mate is still packing to leave us."

"Right, right," Wooyoung said, immediately snapping back to seriousness. "Operation Save Tulip is a go. What's my approach? Charming? Pathetic? Desperately adorable?"

"Honest," Yunho suggested. "Just be honest with her about how much we all care about her. How much we need her."

"And maybe," San added pointedly, looking at Hongjoong, "apologize for our fearless leader's complete inability to speak like a rational human being."

Wooyoung nodded solemnly. "I can work with that. Honesty, charm, groveling—the holy trinity of relationship repair."

"Just..." Seonghwa said, placing a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder, "try not to make it worse?"

"When have I ever made anything worse?" Wooyoung asked with wide, innocent eyes.

The collective stare from six pack members answered that question without words.

"Okay, fine, point taken," Wooyoung conceded. "But this is different. This is our Tulip we're talking about. I'm not going to mess this up."

As he headed toward the door, determination written across his features, the others could only hope that Wooyoung's particular brand of chaos might be exactly what was needed to convince you to stay.

Next>>

Taglist: @paramedicnerd004 @ateezswonderland @sassy-snassy @frankielou02 @rosydipity @starz-choisanii @giiouis @vikc @mxnsxngie @woohwaholic @alexanaguma @nkryuki @multifandom301 @green-moon @uhh-awkward-rightt @phantomslutz @lostxxgirl @mdurir @m00njinnie @ramadiiiisme @yukichan67 @lcvejjoong @fumaluvr @addi-3 @aerixfixoff @cherrysainttt @thuyting @flambychan @herpoetryprincess @littlexbunni @vtyb23 @soobieboobiebaby @marsofeight @yungiswife @yunyunrin @aceshiho @desi2go @intowxnderland @btch8008s @rileylovescats @darkdayelixer @miniverse-zen @hartsablaze @h0rnyp0t @hartsablaze @yungiswife @giiouis @0-beemzy-0 @prettypeachprincesz @awkward-fucking-thing

Want to be added to the taglist? Comment on the masterlist!💜

Taglist is currently closed 😞

[cakypa120]

Ok Billy keeps coming back au.

Seeing all those people, I just imagine everyone are careful and sad now, so imagine that either this is the first time Billy didn't got killed, or the first time someone who still haven't killed Billy killed him.

I'm don't want to lie I hope he survives, but everything you post says that he won't

Billy sighs. Everyone is tiptoeing around him. Which he expected anyway. Billy doesn't blame them. He just.... He wishes they'd stop being so careful with him.

And then Signal shows up at the Watchtower. Gotham's daytime vigilante. Billy had only seen him three times, since he usually died before Duke joined the Batfamily. Now was the perfect opportunity to meet him.

Marvel: Hello! I'm Captain Marvel! You're Signal, right? Gotham's daytime hero? Nice to meet you!

Signal: Nice to meet you too.

They shake hands. Marvel laughs loudly, although he feels Batman's piercing gaze, as always, watching his brood like a hawk.

Marvel: Are you here on business? Or just annoying your father like your brothers and sisters?

Signal: He is not my father, I don't know where you got that idea from. And I am here to familiarize myself with the internal affairs of the League, since I will be more accessible during the day, unlike Batman.

Marvel: I see. Then let's go, I will show you our cafeteria, where Batdaddy takes coffee as dark as his soul to get energy to suck the strength out of people.

Billy takes Duke to the cafeteria, ignoring the boy's complaints and an irritated Batman. In the end, Billy shows Duke everything, explaining everything in detail, sometimes telling funny stories about Bruce and others from the Bat Clan.

Duke eventually returns to Gotham, and Billy and Bruce see him off. After Duke leaves, Bruce asks the expected question.

Batman: Has he ever...?

Marvel: No. I was dying before he showed up in your family. Well, it's time to go on duty.

Duke doesn't know how to react to this smiling hero.

Duke: Dick, how do you like Captain Marvel?

Dick: A good hero, a wonderful person, has seen too much shit in his entire life.

Duke: He seems too cheerful to me.

Dick: ...... Believe me, if he weren't like that, then... a lot would have gone wrong.

Duke was a breath of fresh air in Billy's life. Ignorance was a blessing. No one wanted to enlighten Duke about what Marvel had to endure. And for that, Billy was grateful. Duke was the only one who talked to him normally, without any guilty looks or awkward silences. Billy liked talking to him. They even got to know each other better.

And then comes the day when the sword of Damocles falls on Billy.

The mission went wrong. Billy and Duke are sealed in an ancient seal that requires a human sacrifice. Billy can't break the seal, because it is too powerful. Created from the suffering of an entire people, created to contain the Gods. Even as the Champion of Magic, he will not be able to break this seal.

Marvel: The seal requires a sacrifice. A human sacrifice.

Duke: Like blood or hair? An arm? A leg?

Marvel: No. You have to kill a person and put it on this seal. The sacrifice will be accepted, and a portal will open through which you can exit.

Duke: What?

Marvel: Magic based on human suffering always requires a sacrifice. This seal is designed to contain God. And this seal is very ancient. We better follow the rules.

Duke: That means one of us will have to die!

Marvel: Yes. Unfortunately. But better than both of us rotting in this prison.

Duke: Maybe we can get help? Well, on the other side! And we will both stay alive!

Marvel: I understand your hope. But... A sacrifice will still be needed. From this side, from that side... It doesn't matter. Someone has to die.

Duke: No! We can't just give up! We have to fight! You have the wisdom of Solomon!

Marvel: The Seal is poisoning you. You're human. You won't last long.

Duke: I'll hold out. I'll survive. We'll be rescued.

Marvel: Duke, I know you believe, and that's good.

Duke: How do you know my name?

Marvel: I know many things. And I know that only one of us will leave this place. And that one will be you.

Marvel materializes a dagger, the blade of which was made of eternium. Duke flinches when Marvel hands him the dagger.

Marvel: It's one of the few things that can kill me.

Duke: No...

Marvel: I know it's hard, but... It's necessary. Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions.

Duke: No! No! No! What are you talking about?!

Marvel: Signal...

Duke: Why are you giving up on life so easily?! You have a family! Friends!! A city that loves you! Are you really going to leave them because of me!? I'm just a newbie! My death won't matter to anyone.

Marvel: *grabs Duke by the shoulders* Don't talk about yourself like that! You're so talented and kind! You'll become a great hero! And you also have family and friends who are looking for you, hoping that you'll come back alive.

Duke: What about you? What about your family?

Marvel: My family... My parents are dead, and my sister... she knows the risks I take by becoming a hero. She understands. The League will understand, too. They won't be mad at you. Trust me. They won't.

Duke: Are you really just going to give up?

Marvel: Maybe. Better me than you. You have to live, Duke. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I'm an old man.

Marvel places the dagger in Duke's hand. Duke's lips tremble. Billy looks at the seal and stands in the middle. He turns and looks at Duke. Billy spreads his arms out to the sides, a bright smile on his face.

Marvel: One blow will do.

Duke:.....

His hands were shaking, holding the heavy dagger. He looks at Marvel, who smiled brightly and spread his arms out to the sides. As if inviting him for a hug. Duke picks up the dagger. He closes his eyes. He has to do this. He has to. But he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to!

Duke takes a deep breath and runs. The dagger pierces the flesh, and Duke feels the warmth of Marvel's body. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at where it struck. Golden blood flowed from the wound. Slowly, the gold turned red. Duke froze, his body stopped obeying him.

Warm hands take his hands and tug. The dagger leaves the body with some kind of sound that Duke cannot understand. A few moments later, Marvel falls to his knees, and Duke continues to stand and stare blankly into space. Marvel's voice breaks him out of this strange trance.

Marvel: You did well, Duke. Great...work...

Marvel lurches to the side and falls. Blood soaks into the seal. The seal lights up brightly and Duke finds himself in the woods. He blinks. Where is Marvel? Wasn't he supposed to come back with him? He needs to be buried, right? Marvel deserves peace. Maybe if Duke searches, he can find Marvel? He's probably nearby. He wanders through the woods, looking for Marvel's body. He doesn't know how much time has passed.

He hears his name being called. But who is calling him? Someone is hugging him. Suddenly, Duke becomes aware of his surroundings. Bruce is hugging him, and Superman, Damian, and Flash are standing next to him. And their faces are sad.

Duke: I killed him... I killed him... I killed... killed... him...

The dagger falls out of his hand. Why was he even holding that abomination? His legs give way and he falls to the ground. Bruce follows him. Duke continued to whisper, "I killed him." Bruce stroked his back and whispered that it wasn't his fault. Duke feels tears, he screams, hugging himself. Before his eyes, again and again, is Marvel's corpse, with a peaceful smile frozen on his face. Bruce hugs him tighter, as if trying to hide Duke from all the pain, from everything that happened. Duke no longer screams, he cries quietly, burying his face in the man's armor.

Duke: I...

Bruce: It's not your fault.

Duke: He...

Bruce: It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.

Duke presses himself closer to Bruce. Bruce continues to hug him. Duke just hoped that Marvel had found the peace he deserved.

In another universe, a newborn took his first breath.

[loveqnai]

hiii loveyy!! i loved your oscar fic smmm 😭

could you please write one with oscar where the actress!reader gets injured while shooting an action scene in a marvel or any movie?? and then he gets all worried and takes care of her 🥹

its okay if you don't want to!!! love your work 🎀

mini incident | op81

-the one with the stunt injury

-pairing- oscar piastri x fem!reader

-use of y/n, injury description, slight angst, overall fluff

-a/n- thank you sm for the request anon!! and i'm glad you liked the oscar fic!

you had always been the one to do your own stunts, unless it was something very extreme. you enjoyed the thrill of doing your own stunts and watching yourself on the screen. oscar admired you for that, but that also meant constant worry and anxiety for him.

working in marvel films had its own glory, but the stunts were no joke. of course you had your own stunt double, but today, you had decided to do your own scene.

"are you sure? it's a little risky." cate, your director asked.

"i'll be fine." you gave her a smile. it's not like you were going in unprepared. you had been trained by your stunt coordinator for this particular scene.

some stunt performers helped you gear up, making sure you were secure. you were wearing a full body harness, since it was a height stunt.

you were supposed to run and jump off a roof to another, and fight off a few stunt performers. the tricky part? you had to do a flip mid air and strike your character's 'iconic pose' when you land. it didn't seem too difficult in theory, having done stunts like this before. but this time it felt too real.

the building felt too high, the safety gears felt loose on you, the wind felt too strong against you, the other roof felt too far away. you were in a daze, trying to calm down and convince yourself that you could do it. in the daze, you didn't realize when cate said 'action!' and you didn't get time to prepare yourself mentally.

you ran across the roof and jumped. the harness pulled you upwards and you flipped mid air. everything was going perfectly, until it all went downhill.

you timed your landing incorrectly, and your chin collided with the parapet wall of the other roof. immense pain is what you felt for a few seconds, and then nothing.

you were hanging mid air, not moving. panic settled amongst the crew members and your co-stars. you were brought to the ground, immediately treated by the medics on set.

the hard blow on your chin had jolted your brain, causing you to temporarily pass out. lily, your co-star, wasted no time in calling oscar, your boyfriend.

oscar had just gotten out of a meeting, and was thrilled to see your contact pop up on his phone. he really needed to hear your voice after hours of listening to monotonous voices.

"hey love, thank god you called—" he started, but immediately paused after hearing lily's panicked voice on the other end.

"oscar, this is lily. y/n, she passed out while doing a stunt and its all bloody here, just— please come." and oscar did just that.

he wasted no time and reached the hospital you were taken to. he was still in his mclaren merch when he reached.

"where is she?" he asked lily in a frenzy.

"she's inside, she's awake and okay now. you can go inside."

oscar entered the hospital room to find you laying on the bed, phone in one hand and a bowl of fruits in the other. you were still in your costume, except there was a bandage on your chin. you looked up and your eyes immediately lit up on seeing your boyfriend.

"oscar!" you called out. oscar made his way to your side and took your hand in his, gently hugging you. he made sure not to touch any of your wounds.

"are you okay? how did this happen?" he asked softly, planting kisses on your forehead.

"i don't know, i was doing a stunt and i didn't time my landing correctly. and then this happened." you pointed towards your chin. oscar shook his head.

you were discharged an hour later and oscar offered to take you home. your shoot had been postponed for the next week. you couldn't help but feel guilty.

you noticed oscar had been quiet the entire ride home. in fact, he hadn't spoken in the hospital either— only talking when needed. when you reached home, you finally confronted him about it.

"oscar, what's wrong?" you asked as you sat beside him.

"nothing, why?" he replied quietly, not looking at you. you gently cupped his cheek and made him face you.

"what's wrong?" you asked again, softer this time. he eyed your bandage and you knew what was going on in his head.

"i was really scared. i thought something really bad happened to you when lily called," he started.

"you need to stop putting yourself in danger all the time, y/n. you have stunt doubles— its their job that you do. please, for my sake, don't do these risky stunts." he pleaded as he took both your hands in his.

"it's my job too, oscar. sometimes i have to do these stunts, that's what i've signed up for."

"small stunts, i understand. but what about the serious ones? where you have to jump from building to building or jump off of a fucking chopper? that's not for you to do!"

"i've never even jumped off a chopper!"

"you could!" he argued.

you didn't say anything, you just hugged him tightly and he hugged you right back.

"i'm okay love. i'll always be. please don't worry about me. it was just a mini incident."

"how can i not worry? how did they even let this happen, i don't understand— they're supposed to have safety gears," oscar gently used his index finger to tilt your chin up, taking a look at your wound.

"i had safety gear on, it wasn't supposed to happen but hey— at least i'm alive." you half-joked.

"shut up."

"no, actually. lily said i was hanging mid-air— like i was actually gone,"

"don't say that!" he gasped slightly. for a moment you both were staring into each other's eyes, then oscar leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

"promise me something."

"what?"

"you won't ever jump off a chopper."

"what is it with you and choppers?"

the end

[bililyy]

Best friend!Billie - Pt2

This has a Drabble at the end that you guys will like lol

Warnings! Cheating, probably homophobic parents, Reader is a bit confused, Billie desperate for Reader's love, no use of Y/n

read the first part, so this one makes more sense.

Masterlist

"He's no good for you."

"You don't even know him!"

"No one is good enough for you."

Bestf!Billie who reluctantly agrees to meet you, but only because she needs to find flaws to show you.

"Billie, please smile."

"What? I don't want to smile at him, I want to smile at you."

Bestf!Billie ho almost rolls her eyes forever as soon as she sees him walk into the restaurant with a stupid smile.

She hates the fact that he just kissed the lips that should have been hers.

"I've heard so much about you."

"I wish I could say the same." She smiles innocently.

Yes, she thinks she's being tortured by being in this situation.

"Don't interrupt her!" She says as soon as your boyfriend interrupts you as you excitedly tell about your day.

"She talks too much."

"You talk too much!" She says pointing her finger in his face

Well, that left an awkward atmosphere for the rest of their night together.

"Can we kill him?" She says watching his back walk away.

"Billie!"

You already know that she showed you all of his possible "flaws", right?

"He has ugly hands."

"He interrupted you twice, damn it!"

"He didn't even bring you flowers."

"He didn't even offer to take you home."

"You didn't leave Billie."

"It doesn't matter, he should have tried harder."

But hey, a man wasn't going to stop her from being close to the love of her life, so it was okay.

Best friend Billie! who always puts on a lot of perfume when she comes to see you, so when your boyfriend asks:

"Is that perfume new?"

You'll always answer:

"No, I was with Billie before I came here."

He doesn't suspect you, but he finds it strange how attached to you she is.

"Does she... sleep in bed with you?"

"Yes, we're best friends!"

Best friend Billie! Who starts doing... not so friendly things to you.

She pulls you into her lap when you walk by and sits hugging your waist with her nose in your neck.

She keeps on like that.

Giving you little kisses on the mouth sometimes

Pulling you into her lap.

Sometimes even kissing your neck and leaving a soft mark.

You had to say something, you know you should but... it's such a good feeling.

Until one day...

Best friend Billie is lying on top of you (as always) and starts to caress your belly under your shirt.

"Billie, what are you doing?" You answer with your eyes closed.

She gets up a little and is inches from your face.

"I love you." She says seriously, those blue eyes staring at you as if you were her whole world.

"I love you too." She closes her eyes at that.

That's not what she meant.

"No... I love you much more than that, please break up with him."

"What? Billie that's-"

"I promise to treat you much better, I promise I'll take care of you." She says kissing your cheeks.

"Where does this come from?" You ask a little incredulously.

"My love for you? It's always been there." She smiles a little and gives a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"Billie I can't... fuck, I can't break up with him like this now." She looks at you sadly.

"Why not?"

"Billie I don't know how I feel about liking a girl and... my parents like him." You say the last part quietly and Billie feels her head spin.

"It's okay you... you don't have to figure all this out right now just... let me have you."

"What?"

"I don't care that you're with him I just... yes, I really want to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone but... if you're not ready for that yet, I'll wait for you, but don't push me away."

"Billie, this is wrong."

"Let's solve this together, please give me a chance." She begs with her eyes, and damn you are so in love with those eyes.

"I don't know what to do."

"Let me love you, my love." She says, leaning down and kissing your neck, and you sigh, smelling her hair.

And wow, you've never felt so good having someone's hands on you like this.

She gets up from your neck, and speaks against your cheek.

"Please? I promise he won't find out." She approaches your mouth, and waits a while, giving you the chance to move away from her, but is surprised to feel you pressing your lips to hers in a kiss (which she returns immediately) full of sighs and longing.

Damn, where have you gotten yourself into, huh?

Maybe I'll do a part 3 with a one short lol

Thank you for your support and affection, please comment what you think 💕

[megapteraurelia]

fushiguro toji made previous men feel like boys.

fushiguro toji who doesn't play games. you hadn't heard from him all day. there was no good morning test, no small talk that filled the silence, yet at 6:43 pm sharp, like every day, there was a knock on your door.

when you opened it, there he stood. his shoulders broad, a jacket slung over his form, his hair tousled. a grocery bag hung from his fingers, and the familiar scar on the corner of his mouth twitched when he saw your face.

"i figured ya haven't eaten," he said, his voice rough like he hadn't talked much today; he stepped past you easily, his free hand finding your neck to squeeze once in quiet acknowledgement.

you narrowed your eyes at him, his palm heavy on your nape, "you could've at least texted me today, said something."

"why?"

"because—" you faltered, caught off guard by the straightforwardness of the why, like he didn't just take your passive aggressiveness at face value, "i don't know. it would've been nice."

he raised his eyebrows, "you thought i wasn't comin' or what?"

you shrugged, because you didn't know if that was what you thought. because you were used to flakiness, used to being forgotten, used to men who said a whole lot and followed through on nothing.

exhaling, his hand squeezed down again, "if i didn't give a damn, i wouldn't be here, woman. i don't waste time on people i don't care about. ya think i move for just anyone?"

fushiguro toji who didn't scare easy. not from blood, not from death and sure as hell not from you crying. unlike anybody before, he didn't hover and didn't ask you if you were okay every five minutes. he didn't because it was clear you weren't, because he knew that your pain needed out, because he wasn't going anywhere.

he leaned back, his arms crossed as he watched your chest heave wrecked breaths, sobs stuck in your throat. he waited, no matter how long it took, waited and sat there and watched over you until your body opened up, arms unravelling from your knees. he dropped down next to you, his huge body shadowing you, stance wide, hand finding your thigh. his fingers splayed out to ground as much of you as possible.

"g'on, get that shit out."

you pushed at him, fist finding his arm easily yet with no budging. so, you hit again, intent to find him softening underneath your anger, again and again, and again.

he rolled his eyes, huffing in something almost akin to amusement, the pelting of your fists against his bicep barely more than little pecks left by a fluttering bird, "you done swingin'?"

he let you, still. you didn't scare him, not even close. how could you when he had seen worse? had been worse?

fushiguro toji who didn't get jealous per se. he didn't get into pissing contests with other men when you were approached, who lied about his height, who felt the need to prove that you were with him. at the end of it all, it wasn't about him feeling like he was less.

it was simple, really.

you were welcome to test his boundaries, you were. if you wanted to flirt around, feel like you still had options, make a point to him, then you could go right ahead. he had no interest in stopping you, didn't need to tug you close or make a scene to know that you felt the heaviness of his eyes following you.

he'd sit back in the chair, his legs spread, one arm slung over the backrest of the chair next to him as he watched you: the way you leaned a little too close, laughed a little too much, watched the way that guy inched a little closer to you.

and when you glanced back at him, his gaze already rested on you as you had known, though not with furrowed eyebrows as though he were mad, not bothered. just a heavy stare that spelt more promise than any threat, and if it had the guy's shirt get a bit damp, then all the better for it.

he leaned down to you when you found his side like a butterfly, his breath hot against your ear, "he touches you again, i'll break his fuckin' hand."

to him, it wasn't about feeling less, at all. people just tended to forget, and he was just there to remind them.

fushiguro toji who walked on the outside of the pavement. he stood behind you in a crowd, sat closest to the door in any establishment you were in: his back to the wall, one leg stretched out, the other braced like he was ready to get into action any moment.

he scanned every room like a slumbering weapon, muscle memory kicking in in the way he watched every person that walked in. you felt it in the silence when somebody got too close and he shifted his weight like he was calculating how fast he could drop them. sometimes, when he was bored, he also thought about how quick he could do it for the fun of it.

he never told you you were safe with him — he didn't have to. one day, you just realised that you had never once felt unsafe with him.

fushiguro toji who didn't hide his scars. who chose to let you see them, who chose to allow you to take a peek at his innermost workings, rusted and half-broken. he wasn't somebody who opened up usually; life had a habit of teaching him that no one stuck around when shit got heavy so why would he?

yet, sitting at the edge of the bed, his shirt off and the disfigured marks on full display, he didn't dodge your questions.

fushiguro toji who showed you what it meant to keep choosing you. because he carried more than anybody you had met before, because he wasn't heartless, because he learned to wear the cold like an armour, efficient and far-removed. because with that quiet violence simmering underneath his skin, it was leashed by pure will and determination only.

because living life like that, every day was a conscious decision to hold back. because there was a twisted kind of loyalty within him, raw; one that was forged from the same ruthless intensity that he used to destroy, except now it was directed to protect you.

beause fushiguro toji did not love halfway. ever.

[mommy-mortis]

The sway of the willow tree

Summary: You tell Remmick you're getting married to someone else.

The cold air caressed your nipples as you bounced up and down on his lap, you were trying not to make too much noise just in case someone back home noticed you missing from your bed; they couldn't have you sneaking out at night especially on the night before your wedding.

In the eyes of your parents you had already passed good marrying age so the offer of marriage from one of the sharecroppers east of y'all seemed like a gift from god.

Sweat dripped down your chin to your neck and continued on downward; A tongue cold as lake water on a late night in November licks at the drops that fall between your breast making you shiver.

You couldn't really blame your parents, it was hard enough feeding your siblings; they shouldn't have to feed a grown women with no skills and no ambition to use them if she did.

You'd always been one to focus on the clouds in the sky or the frogs’ melodies at night, singing right back to them when a nice thick fog would cover the lake like icing on a cake; and that's how you got in the mess you're in now.

Sensing that you might not be completely where he wanted you to be, Remmick lightly scrapes at your breast with his claws. He had told you his name was Remmick when you first met, it was on a night where the fog had been it's thickest. You had snuck outside like you usually do, sitting on the edge of the lake humming songs for the frogs.

When he had first showed up covered in what looked to be blood you guessed he expected you to run, but when you hadn't he began to wash the blood off of himself in the lake right next to you. Anyone else would have run and you knew that you should, but you just figured that if he wanted to kill you there was nothing you could do about it, and you weren't going to go getting out of breath just to end up dying. If you were to die it would be here amongst the swaying willow trees.

He had started by complimenting your voice then ended talking with you for hours, until you had felt sleep overtake you. You felt bad for falling asleep on him, but he must have not felt too tight about it; you woke up on your porch and was able to sneak back in before anyone knew better, but from then on you made sure to be more careful.

It had started off as a nice enough friendship, you'd sneak out and he'd show up by the willow trees, It hadn't taken long before your friendship turned intimate. He had complimented you until your head spun and you ended up under him. He looked surprised when he found out he was your first, but you just told him “Remmick, you’re the only man I want to talk to”.

After that he seemed to become more possessive over you, becoming irritated when you wouldn't come out to see him; he would stand outside your window until you’d grow worried that someone would see him and sneak out to meet him.

Remmick was now drawing out a thin line of blood; it doesn't hurt too bad, but fuck if it snaps your attention back to him. You look down at him as you ride, the orgasm you’re chasing is almost in your reach, then he runs his tongue up and down the line he created, licking up the blood that had began to run downwards. Finally popping your nipple in his mouth giving it a nice suck. You had been on the edge before but now you were falling; feeling you clenching around him, his balls grow tight releasing in you as he urges you to continue.

Moaning out your name you watch as his eyes roll back, you watch as his tongue sticks out, you can see your blood laid on his tongue and can't help yourself from kissing him brushing your tongue against his and tasting the copper that was you.

"I love you" he says holding you tight. You grow rigid at his sudden confession; you were good friends and even though sex had been added to it you didn't think he would actually fall in love with you.

You stand up and let him fall out of you, he looks up at you confused about why you hadn’t returned his sentiments.

"Remmick, we need to talk" still confused he can't understand why all of a sudden you've gotten serious.

"I'm getting married tomorrow" his eyebrows slightly furrow he gives you a light chuckle as if you'd told him a joke he couldn't quite figure out.

"Now, just what are you saying my love?" standing up from the ground he tucks himself away.

"I'll be getting married tomorrow evening at the church up the hill" you point to a building far off into the distance but close enough not to squint.

His mouth hangs open with shock.

"I'll be marring a sharecropper east from here and leaving the same night so this will be the last night we see each other".

He looks stuck for a second trying to process what you’re saying to him, he runs his fingers over his lips "Runawaywithme" the words rush out of him so quickly you have to ask him to repeat himself.

"Let's runaway together, I'll take care of you and we can be together and get-" you stop him in his tracks, you both come from different worlds in more than one way. That was made clear by the way his eyes shined inhuman like, and you didn't care about all that; but what would the world say, what would your Mother say?

You couldn't lie you loved him too, but what about your family, the embarrassment of having their daughter disappear with some white devil on the eve of her wedding.

If it was just you, you'd run right to him, but it wasn't just your marriage you had to worry about, it was the future marriages of your siblings; things like shame were hard to wash off a name; so no you couldn't go with him.

"I wish things were different, but this is something I have to do, his name is Noah Oakley. I hear he's a good man, so don't go worrying about me too much". You turn to leave but look back at him, you couldn't just leave without telling him how you felt. You grab his hands pale as the moon and give him a kiss on the cheek, "I love you too Remmick, I think I will for a long time." Making your way back home you try to stop the tears from falling only looking back once to see him still standing there underneath the willow tree.

The wedding had been planned for the evening since it would take him some time to get to the church after working on the fields; that was fine since you still had to get up early and finish your chores too.

Your ma and pop had been so happy at the prospect of your marriage and while looking at you in your wedding dress they seem even prouder.

What you were wearing was nothing too special, just an off white dress that your mother had tailored from some nice enough scraps of fabric, but you could tell she put her all in it, and that made it the most beautiful dress ever made in your eyes. You didn't have a veil so your head was graced with beautiful white flowers made from the left over fabric. You had never felt vain a day in your life, but today you did feel beautiful.

Then the time began to pass and you felt less so.

Noah was supposed to have arrived hours ago, you knew that he lived a whiles away, but he was supposed to arrive in the afternoon and the sun was already close to setting. You didn't care if he stood you up, but the thought that he had hurt your family made you want to cry; sensing your discomfort your mother laid a hand over your shoulder. "These things happen, all we can hope is tha-" before she could finish her sentence a messenger boy ran into the church where you’d been standing for so very long to deliver a message.

Your groom had gotten into an accident, but was okay and would be on his way soon so be ready.

Your mother jumped to action discarding what she was about to say in favor of fetching the pastor who had decided to take a nap instead of 'Waiting for a groom that got cold feet'.

After getting everyone she could to come back she had you stand back at the alter, you were so nervous you kept your head down and prayed.

You prayed that Noah was as kind as they said he was, prayed that you could give him a couple of children so he wouldn't find too much fault in you, and you prayed that you could forget Remmick.

"Here's the groom, well don't just stand there come on in son" The pastors voice joyfully boomed through out the church

"I hope you don't mind I brought a friend", sounding less sure but not wanting to waste time the Pastor waved them forward. "Well...It's your wedding, I can't tell you who to invite now come on in both of you, your beautiful bride has been waiting on you."

He gave off a light chuckle "I'm sure shes been waiting a mighty long time, just not for me."

The sound of confusion rang throughout the church, and as the sound of foot steps got closer you kept your head down, just like your ma had told you until the feeling of Ice cold hands softly grasp yours "I'm sorry, I'm late" you knew that voice.

You look at the hands holding yours; they were as pale as the moon. You don't pull away but instead slowly look up; there he was dressed in what seemed to be an ill fitting suit with a blood stain hidden just behind the pockets. Behind him stands a man who you assume is Noah, he gives you a small wave when he sees you staring at him. The Pastor must have bad eyesight, you don't know how he could have missed the dried blood on Noah's collar.

"Remmick, what have you done?" your voice comes out shaker than you want it to cause you know what he’s done, just like when you had first met.

Ignoring your question he smiles, running a finger down the back of your neck "Oh, my love you look even more beautiful than when I found you underneath the willow tree" he lays his hand on your hip and you hate how natural it feels.

Your father was not amused at what he's witnessing, yelling out "What the hell is going on?" pointing to Remmick's hands on your body.

"Darlin' do you want to tell them or should I?" his smile looks malicious, was this punishment for turning down his proposition? "Tell them how you'd sneak out the house at night in nothing but cotton to meet me under the willow tree, and how we'd talk for hours then make love under the pale moon unti-"

"Remmick!" you hiss out his name placing both your hands on his mouth, you beg him to stop "It's my wedding day."

Slowly removing your hands and intertwining your fingers he nods at you, "Aye, that it is, and yer groom has come to take you away".

You're mother cries out, her words finally finding her "Did you lay with the devil?" her voice shaking harder than her hands.

Tears form in the corners of your eyes, your voice breaks unable to hide your shame "I'm sorry Mama.." you watch as she faints, your father grabbing her before she can hit the floor.

"Child, What have you done" tears fill his eyes as he turns away from you, he couldn't bear to look at you.

Waving them away "Ah well, don't mind them My love" he says smiling while turning your face towards his "All you have to worry about is being beside me for all eternity", he brings your hands to his mouth and gives them a kiss "Now my darlin’ shall we get this show on the road?"

The Pastor should have denied Remmick, refusing to go through with the unholy matrimony, never wavering in the face of evil, but instead Remmick had barely had to raise a finger before he was spewing out Ruth 1:16.

So say the bible "Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God."

The Pastor looks towards Remmick hands shaking in fear, "Will you have this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in the covenant of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, for the rest of your life?

Remmick looked at you like you held the moon at your finger tips "I do."

“Will you have this man as your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in the covenant of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, for the rest of your life?”

You pause wondering how a man of god could just go along with all this. Not liking how long you were taking to respond, Remmick caresses your hands "Baby you should hurry up and answer the man, I'm getting a little hungry and I would hate to get my clothes wet with everyone’s blood".

You hear audible gasps behind you, you look Remmick deep in the eyes, eyes that tell you to choose your next words wisely cus he wasn't playing.

"I do."

You can hear the Pastor exhaling in relief "I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride" not waiting for you to finish your kiss the Pastor leaves out the back door in a hurry. 'Coward' you think to yourself.

Remmick draws you in close, his lips press against yours so desperately you can barely breathe.

Stepping back to get one good look at you, he picks you up carrying you out the door; you can hear your mother's wails as Noah trails behind y'all. Noah drives y'all to the willow tree where you and Remmick first met. Remmick has Noah park the car a ways away so you can have some privacy.

Falling to your knees in front of the willow tree you let yourself cry. Remmick comes to comfort you but you brush him off. "How could you do this Remmick?" kneeling in front of you he begins to kiss the tears off your face.

"I know, I know I'm selfish" He continues to kiss you on your neck "Please forgive me baby" he lightly scrapes your breast with his teeth drawing small drips of blood to lick up. Instead of moaning his name you bite your tongue, looking away from him in indifference.

"Oh baby don't ignore me" he tries to make you look at him but you pull away, he huffs in frustration placing you on your back he hovers over you, trying to kiss as much of your skin as he can uncover.

"Darlin please" he wines while moving his hands up your dress, you can feel him removing your panties giving them a deep sniff before placing them in his pocket. You can't see very well in the dark, but can feel the length in his pants harden as he kisses you from your neck and down your body, "Baby, I had to" You still refuse to answer him.

He lifts your dress up all the way leaving you bare for all the world to see; he opens your legs and lays between your thighs giving the outside of your pussy little licks and kisses "Forgive me" he says a he spreads your lips like honey on toast. He lifts his head to apologize again, but you press his face back into your wetness, not want to hear his apologies anymore.

Not when you knew he didn't mean it. He was happy to steal you away, and he would have done it months ago if he didn't think you were leaving anytime soon. The feeling of his tongue showing devotion to your body, brings you so close you can't help the next words that escape your mouth "I hate you".

As if his tongue has been scolded he quickly removes his mouth from your cunt, moving between your thighs hurt and anger radiates off his body. "You hate me?" he says while unzipping his pants, pulling them down enough for his dick to spring out of them "Answer me" he hisses. Not waiting for a reply, he lifts your legs over his shoulder and plows into you "Huh!?" he growls moaning out your name.

"Yes I hate you" your hands twist the layers of his stolen clothing "I hate you, I hate you". It becomes harder to lie the closer you get, finally you feel yourself dangling over the edge of a cliff, truth falling from your lips; "Ah! fuck Remmick I love you, I've loved you for a long time and I'll love for a long time still." You shiver as you come all over his dick. Feeling him pulse inside you he wasn’t far behind; slamming deep inside you he buries his head in the crook of your neck as he empties his balls inside you. You expect him to bite you, but he just leaves wet kisses down your neck. "Not yet" he says sensing your anticipation.

Noah drives you both back to your home. Parking close enough, he and Remmick wait in the car. You walk in the house, taking a look around. This would be your last time here, you visit the rooms of your siblings; they had stayed back, too young to stay up. You kiss them on the top of their crowns saying goodbye, you prayed for their sakes you'd never meet again.

You gather your things; a few articles of clothing and a picture of your family, and step out the house. You find your mother and father walking back towards the house; they walk past you and you almost let them, but you can't just let go without saying goodbye. "I love you" you yell out watching as they stop in their tracks "If someone comes back with my face know that ain't your little girl anymore, don't let her in". You didn't know how Remmick's bite would change you, but you knew the last thing you wanted to do was hurt them.

Your father can't bring himself to say anything but your mother stops and turns around just staring at you griping the front of her collar "I love you" she yell back "So im’ma tell you to be happy, never come back home... but please be happy".

You nod and turn away making your way back to the car. You see Remmick smiling at you; you don't look back, you can't, but instead whisper under your breath.

"Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God."

[partylikemajima]

Mending Hearts.

A reimaginging of Smoke and Annie's reunion with the idea that she doesn't take him back immediately, that Smoke has to work for it. This is from @margepimpson 's idea list that I was tagged in, thank you so much! Here's chapter 1, chapter 2 for sure (continuing from Annie's POV) will follow but maybe a chapter 3 as far as I can tell. No vampires! No KKK ambush. Just a good time and rekindling hearts 🥺 (love the film in entirety but I'm a sap for romance)

Smoke's heart rate raised when Annie's workplace came into view as he drove in his truck. Parking, stepping out and walking towards the shack, his legs shook a little with the surreal feeling of being back. He heard from people around town about Annie, few kids next to him in Bo's shop whispered about needing to visit 'Miss Annie' to pick up what their mother asked them to collect. Though the 'Miss' part annoyed him, his fault, he promised to buy better rings for the both of them when he gets back, it was relief to his ears hearing about her. On the way to the back, he saw through the front window a figure moving inside and his heart swelled.

Reaching their daughter's grave, he placed the flowers down by it and traced the small hand print on the stone. His fingers tingled remembering the small hand that had held his finger years ago. "Papa's here" He calmed her cries that remained in his mind. From his crouched position on the ground, he looked over his shoulder at the shack's back door and saw it was shut. Either she didn't notice him or she's ignoring him. Smoke raised to his feet and walked up to the door, knocking twice.

No response.

He peered through the screen door and a gap within the main door behind it, seeing her movements at the main table in the center winding up a root. The screen door covered up many details of her but his heart pounded against his chest from laying eyes on her. He needed to see her clearly.

She definitely heard the knock.

He knocked again though, watching her.

"I don't open the door to haints" Her rich, homely voice sent a shiver down his spine. He missed hearing her so much that her words took a second to register.

"You told me haints don't come out until nightfall" He never forgot the many things she taught him, including the make-believe hoodoo. He didn't really care about it but it was her livelihood, and he believed in her. His right hand ghosted over his jacket above where her mojo bag rested on his chest.

She didn't answer and Smoke watched her leave into the room connected to the main area of her shop. Where her stock was usually kept. He sucked his teeth and stepped back down the stairs towards his daughter again. Crouched down by her, he pondered in silence for a while before his thoughts began tangling in his head.

"Your mother won't let me in" He tapped the hand print stone "Send help". The babbling of his daughter echoing in his memories. "She'll listen to you" He continued talking to her.

He knew he took too long to come back. The plan in Chicago went sideways a few times and Stack and him had to reign it in to bring it back on track. He thought about Annie every day, every night, nearly drove all the way back to her one night. Stack kept him grounded in reality of their plan. Being here now, pockets full, he wasn't sure if it was worth it.

But the juke-joint will pay off somehow. They'll make it work. He can provide for his family then.

"Maybe I can-" The sound of her back door opening made him pause his conversation with his daughter and whip his head around, turning on his feet as he stood up straight.

There she stood, holding the door handle on the inside, his view of her clear as the sky. Blue patchwork dress hugging her body sculpted by God. The dreams he had of every part of her kept him going and also made him more insane than he already was before he met her. His feet brought him closer without thinking much of it until he reached the bottom of the steps and she spoke.

"Don't come any closer" She looked down to him with her piercing eyes.

He halted. It hurt but he wasn't going to disobey her.

"You come alone?" Her hand was still on the door, holding on to it as if ready to shut him out for good if he messes up.

"Yeah, Stack is on the other side of town" He held his hands together in front of him, looking up to her. There was silence that hung between their conversation, just staring.

"What you come back for?"

"We bought that ol' saw mill, gonna patch it up, make it into a juke-joint" He kept his composure under her discerning stare, and his fast beating heart. The adrenaline at shoot outs didn't compare to the rush of seeing his wife, let alone talking to her.

A smile played on her face and Smoke tried his best to hold it together.

"A juke-joint" She tilted her head down a little, a habit she has that always flattered her features. "This one of Stack's ideas?"

"Yeah, he figured tonight gonna be grand opening"

Annie chewed the corner of her mouth and rested her free hand on the door frame. "Thought you was done with the Delta, given how you never replied to my letters" Her smile disappearing, replaced by a serious one. "Through with me"

Smoke's mouth parted as his heart leaped to his throat. What the hell did she mea-. "You wrote to me baby?" His voice weaker than he meant to sound.

"Course I did, I was careful, with your plan and all, but I did."

"I didn't get any....We moved around a lot." He looked back and forth between her eyes. "I wanted to write to you but I couldn't risk the trouble we were in, heading back to you"

Her brows furrowed as she kept his eye contact. "You're lying"

That made him mad that she would say that. He placed a foot onto the first step to try and reason with her, get close so he can reassure her but she stood back. So he waited again. "Have I ever lied to you?!" His voice didn't raise but it started off strained. "It was one of my vows, that I never would lie to you"

He could tell she was getting worked up, her chest rising and falling faster and her mouth pursing her lips. It was the sound of kids walking in her front door that brought them both out of their stand-off, she let the screen door hang open and walked towards them. He climed higher and stood just outside the door frame.

"Just this Miss Annie" A small girl held up a jar. "And a pinch of High John". The other girl next to her stared at Smoke.

"Now, don't sell this on the way home, I don't want your mama coming at me crazy later" Annie's voice softened for the two children, gathering some of the High John into a small paper pouch and traded it for money that he clicked wasn't the money that'd work anywhere else.  The wad of real cash sitting fat in his pocket, ready to spend on his wife.

He glanced around the shop while they were discussing a few questions the girls had and realised the place didn't change much from how he remembered. New shelves were added in and Smoke wondered who nailed them to the wall for her. He watched Annie take out the blade from her dress pocket to slice open a packet she pulled from the drawer. Same blade she always carried.

He realised the other girl was still staring at him.

"Miss Annie, who's that man?" She pointed a finger to him.

Annie looked over her shoulder at him, brows raised and he slightly raised a brow back to her, wondering what she'll answer with. "Just someone I know, he means no harm, you can call him Mr Smoke Moore"

The girl with the jar whispered to the other in her ear and the same girl who asked about him had gasped, pointing again to him. "Momma told me you shot Mr Terry and that other guy in the town today!" She blurted out and the other girl smacked her arm shushing her.

Smoke almost laughed if it wasn't for Annie glaring at him, kids always made him laugh. He shrugged his shoulders. "Bo's patching them up" He reasoned and she shook her head, hurrying the children out the shop. On the way out he heard them gossip.

"Momma said Miss Annie was married"

"Mr Moore must of been her husband"

"Momma said the SmokeStack twins rob people"

The corner of his mouth tugged barely into a smile listening to them. First the girl outside of the Chow Family's shop and now these two. All three made him picture what his daughter would of grown up into if she had the chance. The hint of his smile wiped away when Annie approached him again, now more level in their eye contact and closer that he could smell the freshness from her body. Her soaps always had a citrus smell to them.

She gripped the inside door handle again. "Why you here Smoke? What you want with me?"

"We want you to come down to the opening, cook for us" He didn't lie. It was the truth. He just didn't say what was in his heart. She already looked like she wanted to kill him. He'd let her.

"Elijah"

He suppressed a groan of desire at hearing her voice with his real name. His emotions were all mixed up. So much of him is tied to her and he wouldn't have it any other way but it wasn't the time to be horny. Well...if she wanted to....

"It still hurts coming back here, but I told you I'd make so much money we wouldn't have to worry, and I did." His thumb ran over the knuckles of his other hand, maintaining eye contact. "I love you, and I miss you"

Her eyes shake in the eye contact until it breaks and she looks to the floorboards, between where they stood.

One of Smoke's fears before he left her was what if he took too long to come back that she fell out of love with him. When they initially spoke, the fear festered in his mind. But the longer they continued to talk, he knew it, could see it, that she was battling her mind and her heart. She loved him still, but she was hurt. His fault. He took too long.

She raised her head, eyes set firm. "I'll be there" She confirmed.

Smoke lost control a little and leaned towards her but she took a large step back and shut the screen door. "For that crazy brother of yours" She concluded.

She folded her arms under her chest and her hips tilted to the side. They stared at each other again for a moment until Smoke remembered how to speak. "I'll drive you down"

She turned away from him and walked back to the center table. "I don't need your help, I'll ask Grace"

He checked his watch and cursed under his breath at time slipping away from him. If he didn't leave now, it'll postpone the Juke's opening and they were already short on time due to that cracker Hogwood being late. He took one last look at her and turned, walking back down. "I'll see you there Annie, thank you"

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

"So she didn't kill you!" Stack wrapped his arms around Smoke's, squeezing him in a bear hug and Smoke grunted from the force. He held him back by his shoulders and looked over him. "What happened? Is she coming down?" His wide grin glinted with the gold outlining one of his teeth. Smoke shrugged his hands off his shoulders and moved into the barn, glancing around at what needed fixing and where everything would be.

"Why didn't you offer to drive her down?" Stack hovered behind him with his hands on his shoulders again, kneading the muscles. "Did she say no? She isn't coming?"

"She didn't want me to, said she'll go with Grace" Smoke mumbled.

"I'm going by to pick them up soon, dropped Grace off at Annie's house" Bo appeared by their side, staring up at a hole in the ceiling that Smoke was checking out.

Stack cheered at seeing their old friend, Bo pulling him in for a hug "Good man!". He stood back and turned to Smoke again.

"I knew she couldn't resist, I dressed you well so she wouldn't!" He hit Smoke's back and Smoke couldn't help the glare that surfaced, aiming it to him.

"She's coming down to help you, not me" Smoke rubbed the side of his head.

"Really? Her words?" Stack and Bo glanced to each other and then both waited for Smoke to continue but he had enough of the interrogation.

"I'm not doing this, shut up" Smoke marched on forward, figuring out where to go and get away from the two but they trailed behind. He found Cornbread out the back of the barn loading up crates of beer they had smuggled down from Chicago. He greeted his old friend, the taller man happy to see him and asking how he was. They chatted more, helping him carry the crates in to the kitchen area when Stack spoke again.

"Cornbread, how's Annie been? My brother went to see her"

The taller man turned around slowly, eyes wide and watching Smoke. "You-you went to her workplace?" He asked quietly.

Confusion settled on Smoke's face. Why the hell would Cornbread be worried about him visiting his own wife?

"Sure did, what about it?" Smoke stared him down.

"I didn't mean nothing by it Smoke, just that uh..."

"Annie has a rifle" Bo chimed in and Smoke turned to him so fast he nearly lost balance. "Cornbread's thinking why you didn't get shot at".

At that explanation, Stack doubled over and hollered so loud, one hand clutching his stomach and the other smacking the counter top.

[beastyeastfreak]

So.... we have yandere Beast, but what about yandere virtues!

We were just a cookie. Not really famous or anything. We were kind to the strangers no matter how they acted or who they were. One day, we meet 5 cookies . We instantly knew they were newly baked, so we helped them adapt to life here on earthbread. They later became known as virtues. We didn't really cared about that . After all, they were just our friends!

But surely they acted quite weird around you. But you guessed it's because you were their first friend! Huh, why did they look so weird when you told them that you're going on the date?

LET ANON COOK CHAT

Cw and tags: angst(some worse than others), yandere, posessive and jealous behavior, kinda implied one sided love, reader becomes immortal/virtues extend their life, reader is in love with another cookie / has been before.

Written before the silent salt update. Also i decided that the emoji for the reader with be 🐚, theres a whole thought process i wont bore you with but it probably wont be used very often lol

You were a mortal cookie, baked like any other. You were simple, you lead a life of work in a small town. One unpromising evening, you venture into the woods and find five cookies who clearly were fresh out of the oven

🌷 - “My what a beautiful place! I can’t wait to see all the cookies we get to watch over!” A pink cookie says, spreading her wings and opening her arms wide towards the sky.

🃏 - “I’m quite excited to learn and teach mortals, who knows what knowledge they already have waiting for me!” A blue one speaks while examining a plant, crouched down.

🌾 - “I have a feeling there’s many cookies in need of our help, we should make haste.” One white as flour emerges from the bushes with the help of a red cookie.

🏜️ - “Well said! I am eager to nurture cookie kind and cultivate many kingdoms!” He says with a puffed out chest, following him is a knight who immediately spots you.

🗡️ - “There,” they speak and they all snap towards you.

🐚 - “Hello!” You speak walking out of the bushes, “welcome to earthbread!” You laugh and a few of them laugh with you.

🃏 - “Greetings, could you perhaps enlighten us on the way to… to um…” the blue cookie trails off then looks at the rest. “Where exactly are we going?” The others don’t have an answer.

🐚 - You look at them as they exchange looks. You figure despite their clearly prestigious appearance, they weren’t sure what to do. “Say, its getting late. How about you stay with me for the night and in the morning we can get you on your feet?” You offer, you travelled quite a bit due to work so you could actually be of great use to them. They seem hesitant.

🌾 - “We could not ask that of you-“

🐚 - “Please, i insist,” you continue and they finally cave, looking amongst each other before at you, then nod.

🐚 - You brought the virtues to your home, giving them food and setting out places for them to sleep (though they did not actually sleep). While they ate, you learned more about them and helped them decide where to begin their journey from your travelling experience. You unknowingly were one of the biggest influences on them. The blueberry academy, the ivory pagoda and the garden of delights among many other influential places would have been vastly different if not for you.

🐚 - You received many gifts from the virtues, your name had been set in stone as the first cookie graced with their presence and their aid when they were fresh. For that, not only did they find a way to lengthen your preservatives to make you live longer, but they also helped turn your small town into a successful kingdom. Hell, you had your own statue of you standing beside the virtues! They were your greatest friends, as many of your friends came and went, they remained. Your statue and name in history books would be the extent of your fame, but it would grant you many other friends. One of which seemed too close for their liking.

🐚 - You were getting ready for another night out with that friend of yours, they seemed to really like you and you were maybe starting to like them back. You looked nice in your opinion, definitely very formal…

🌾 - You were startled away from gazing at yourself in the mirror as Mystic Flour walked in. You lighten up, “I didn’t realize you were in town!” You walk up to hug her, she returns the embrace with less enthusiasm. You notice the look on her face, “is something bothering you?” You ask and she remains quiet for a moment. “I have granted so many of your wishes,” she tucks a baby hair icing from your face. “And yet you’re choosing another. Strange,” she says and you resist the urge to tilt your head.

🌾 - Your frowned deepens, “what do you mean? You’re my best friend,” you speak but it’s not what she wants to hear. “More and more cookies become overcome with greed, they cannot accept what they are given.” She begins, her eyes darken in a way you had not seen before, disappointment was one emotion you could make out. “It seems that it is simply in cookies nature.” She says which only makes you quieter. Only now that she was beginning to scare you did you notice stress lacing her face.

🌾 - “Mystic Flour, please-“ You begin. “Dont,” she places one hand up. “As master of the ivory pagoda and light of Volition, ive decided you will not attend this… date. You will not attend any from now on, i will cure this ailment within you as i will with cookiekind as a whole.” She speaks sharply. You swear as you look into her eyes, they look slitted.

🏜️ - You hear a knock on the door, “come in!” You yell out and see your close friend Burning Spice enter. Theres a look on his face you cant quite discern. “Y/N,” he greets then looks at you as if something had confirmed in his mind. “You look… nice, who is this for?” He narrows his eyes, you look back in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight, figured id dress my best,” you reply.

🏜️ - “With another cookie..?” He says slowly, “with another cookie,” you parrot with a nod, fixing your outfit a bit. “Why do you insist on bonding with cookies that will crumble in mere years,” he says which makes you stop. “W..what?” You look at him in the reflection of the mirror. “You have lived a long time just as i have, surely you have realized this heartbreak of losing those close to you hurts worse than momentary entertainment?” He says and steps towards you, you whip around and look up at him.

🏜️ - “What are you talking about? They’re my friends, i cant just not be with them,” you replied. “They will die, so will the next. Then the next, and again, and again, and again. Why not just…” he takes your chin in his hand, his two lower hands rest on your hips, “stay with me?” Something was wrong with him, he had never acted like this. “I will be your constant in a sea of change, your protector, your entertainment…” You arent given much of a choice, he seems adamant. Maybe if you just give in for a bit he’ll go back to normal. “Yeah… ok ill cancel my plans.”

🌷 - You were broken from your thought as Eternal Sugar gently creaked the door open. You turn and smile widely. “Eternal Sugar! How nice of you to fly in!” You say and walk up to her, she wraps her arms and wings around you tightly. “You look so joyful in that icing, dear! Whats the occasion?” She hugs you looser, hand running on the back of your head. “Well, theres this cookie ive been talking to and we’re going out tonight,” you replied. Her expression shifts a bit, at first the smile fades then she completely frowns. “Oh dear, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak~” she coos which makes your slightly lovestruck expression turn confused.

🌷 - “Sweetness… theres so many cookies out there who’d want to hurt you or take advantage of you! And remember how much it hurt last time?” She runs a hand over the side of your face and lets it rest there. Her reminder of your loss was harsh, and visibly made you hesitate. “But.. they’re nice, i dont think they’d do that?”

🌷 - “But you don’t know that, Y/N… you’re too naive,” she kisses your forehead. “With me you’d never have to wonder if they wish to hurt you… i only want all the happiness in the world for you, to shield you from pain.” She wraps her wings around you tighter. You want to disagree but remembering when you were hurt and she was there for you made you stop. “Then what do i do?” You say and she smiles, “how about you come to the garden, we can have a night out. And if you wish you may stay there, forever, with me…”

🃏 - Blueberry Milk knocks on your door, recognizable by the pattern of each gentle strike. “Come in!” You exclaim, still looking into the mirror. The fount of knowledge enters, looking at your outfit then smiling softly. He adjusts his monocle and speaks, “Good evening, Y/N, you look positively stunning! Would you enlighten me on why you’re dressed up so nicely?” He asks, you strike a little pose in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight,” you respond then turn your head to him. His face deviates, though not upset to your eyes. “With… who?” He asks.

🃏 - “With (cookie name), they’re a real catch…” you say and put on your coat. He’s silent for a moment, you spoke again. “I actually have to leave now if you dont mi-“ “I do!-“ he says abruptly. You turn to him, he continues. “They’re seeing someone else, thats what i came to tell you.” He says, you tilt your head. “They said they were single..?” You say with disappointment. You believed him no matter what, he was the fount of knowledge his sole purpose was to deliver facts and only that. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” he steps forward and takes your hand in a gesture of comfort. You look down, “i got my hopes up for nothing,” you sigh.

🃏 - He kisses your hand, “well… it would be a shame to have you dressed up so nicely for nothing, how about we go out?” He offers, your lips turn up slightly. “Id like that,” you replied softly.

[purinfelix]

pretty please? - n. riki ₊˚⊹♡

summary: dragging your introverted boyfriend to a house party doesn't go entirely as planned - but still ends exactly how it's meant to ──────────── ni-ki x reader || semi-college au, ni-ki is a pouty emo baby, kinda that "i only like you" dynamic, super soft fluff || w/c: 1.4k

a/n: i'm soft for niki yall i just love writing him like this ARGHGHDF ... also this is semi inspired by the party scene with jess and rory from gilmore girls if anyone cares ALSO AAA HOW GOOD IS THE COMEBACK YALL SDKJFNSDKFJN

Call it basic, but house parties have always been a little bit of a guilty pleasure for you.

The loud music, the less-than-enjoyable drinks, the mindless chatter - some might find it irritating or a waste of time, but to you, it's harmless fun. Letting yourself let go, to just enjoy the company of other people and the feeling of dressing up, it felt like just the thing you needed, especially after a hellish exam week.

But Niki didn't seem to share the same sentiment, judging from the look he had given you when you brought up the idea to him a couple of weeks ago - something in between disgust and concern. Though he's never been able to say no to you, and so before the two of you know it, you're walking hand in hand into a bustling room full of moving bodies and flashing lights.

It's only about two hours into the party, though, that you notice the glaring absence of an arm snaked around your waist, or a hand sprawled across the small of your back. You'd always been the more extroverted of you two, so at first, you didn't think much of it when he left you to your conversations. But not being able to spot your boyfriend's tall figure anywhere - lurking in any corners or hovering around the drinks table like he typically did when you dragged him to things like this, it concerned you slightly. So you were quick to brush off the small talk you were making to set off the find him,

And you did soon enough, not anywhere near the loud music or chatter, but rather, somehow, in one of the bedrooms, alone. It almost made you laugh when you tentatively opened the door, half expecting to find a couple drunkenly making out behind it, only to spot your boyfriend sitting in an armchair in the dim light, staring at his hands with an expression you could only describe as pure boredom.

"There you are," you whisper gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn't say anything, but his eyes flicker to you and for just a moment he looks a little surprised, almost as if he wasn't expecting you to come looking for him.

"I've been looking all over for you," you coo, shutting the door behind you so that the room darkens once again, and the noise of the party is muffled just enough.

"Just got tired of everything going on down there," he sighs, and it's a heavy sigh. You watch as his eyes meet yours, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction to his disappearing act.

You only offer a reassuring smile in response, padding your way over and finding your way to stand between his knees, his hands coming up almost instinctively to grip your hips in a way that tells you he wasn't enjoying your time apart. He buries his face into your stomach, and you can feel him shut his eyes as he leans into your warmth.

"Sad boy," you tease, running your fingers through his hair, "I thought you said you didn't mind coming with me."

"I didn't," he huffs, a little childishly, "but then we got here and it's all so loud and everyone here is annoying."

"Well we could just go down and talk for a little bit, c'mon," you beg softly.

"I don't want to talk to anyone else," he admits, pausing before continuing, "I don't like anyone else." You're about to laugh at how cheesy his words are, but as he lifts his head, you see his truly earnest expression, lips forming the tiniest pout.

You'd be lying if you said you wanted to leave this party now, but the look on his face - a mix between demanding and begging - makes it difficult for you to stand your ground.

"You want to get out of here, then?" you ask softly, just barely above a whisper as you cup his face, thumb stroking the side of his cheek.

He pauses, shutting his eyes as he leans into your touch once more. "You should stay," he mumbles, leaning back into the chair before shrugging, "you're having fun."

You tilt your head with a frown, hand falling to your side. "That isn't what I asked."

He returns your expression, somewhat hesitantly, and you can't remember the last time you've seen him so reluctant. "I just don't want to be the reason you leave early. I saw you smiling while you were dancing and chatting, you looked so ... beautiful."

His voice is careful, like he's trying to maintain his normally cool facade, but there's something heavier to what he's saying that makes it difficult for him to stay calm. "It's not your fault I'm the boring one."

"You're not boring," you say sternly, "and you're my favourite person, nothing's fun for me if you're sitting here sulking alone."

His eyes glance at yours once more before darting to the floor. You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek, clearly fighting the urge to admit something. So you soften, bending down and leaning in closer to force him to meet your eye, to see your expression that's pleading him to tell you the truth.

"Be honest with me, Ki."

The nickname seems to finally crack him, and when he talks, it's the tiniest whisper. "Yeah, I kinda hate it here."

"There we go," you coo sweetly, face breaking into a smile as you peck the corner of his lips.

"You're not mad?"

You shrug. "I don't really mind, there are parties like this every night, so it's not like I'm missing much."

He nods slightly, but doesn't move from his chair, so you can tell he's not quite convinced.

"Plus, it's hard to be mad at you when you're sitting here looking like an abandoned puppy." You add, watching as he looks up and lets out a soft laugh, somewhat incredulous, or maybe even offended, at your comment - but really, you're just happy to see him smile.

"I do not," he insists, pushing himself up from the chair so he's towering over you, but there isn't any real bite behind his words and that - the familiar mix of teasing and tenderness - is how you know you have your boyfriend back.

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? All you need is a tiny violin and some rain, and people would be lining up to adopt you."

He groans dramatically as he pulls you in by the waist, burying his face into your neck. "Can we leave now, or are you just going to keep bullying me until I leave by myself?"

"Depends," you smile, "will you admit you were waiting for me to find you?"

He doesn't say anything, just pulls back and looks at you with a smirk, one that's playing coy at being caught in the act - and that's all the answer you need. He lets you pull him towards the door, and back out into the muffled chaos of the party, where you start saying your goodbyes to all the faces you barely remember even talking to.

As you're almost finished, though, he leans in close to your ear and mumbles something, quick and quiet, like another sheepish confession.

"Besides, you looked too good tonight, didn't feel like sharing."

You blink, caught off guard as a small scoff escapes your lips. You turn around just to catch the flicker of a smug smile across his lips, though his ears are turning pink.

"Was that supposed to be smooth?" you ask, tilting your head as the two of you reach the front door.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "did it work?"

You roll your eyes, but press a quick peck to his lips anyway. "You're lucky I love you, you know."

"Oh, trust me, I know." He chuckles softly, humming contentedly as you both step out into the night, cool air brushing against your skin.

You don't say anything, just reach for his hand and intertwine it with yours as you step away from the house party. The sounds of cheers and loud music fade away behind you, and all that's left is the warmth of your boyfriend's hand in yours - and really, you'd take that over watered-down drinks in a solo cup any day.

taglist for niki fics! <333 - @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96 @jenjnk @nocturnebite @nodoubtily @teireiii @starniras

[loveharlow]

okay okay hi harloww :) how ya doin??

okay so I had an idea well request- jj and sex on a trampoline BAH i don’t know this kinda happened irl to me and idk how to write abt it ??

abbie idk what kind of damn miracle worker you think i am ??? SEX on a goddamn TRAMPOLINE??? and wdyMEANNNN "kinda happened irl to me"???? ABIGAIL??

ps: sorry this took so long girl, i was tryna make sure i did my best

swearing, smut, outdoor sex/exhibitionism, slight dom!jj

"Really enjoying the view from down here, I tell ya—"

"Shut up." You hushed the blonde beneath you, cutting him off before crashing your lips against his. Your hands framed his head as he lay stretched out on the trampoline in your backyard, his pants pooled around his knees. You were on top, your skirt your only shield against any prying eyes from nearby windows.

You weren't sure whose idea it had been, or why either of you had agreed. But somehow, you found yourself riding JJ on your childhood trampoline, a relic unused for years. Your parents were out, and you'd snuck him in for a house tour. Though, you couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had escalated to this.

The old structure groaned with each movement as you ground against him, watching his face contort in pleasure. His tongue peeked from in between his lips, his hands gripping the skin of your waist and thigh for dear life — his fingers hidden beneath the fabric of your shirt and skirt.

The trampoline's buoyancy only served to amplified your pleasure. As you pushed off him, you seemed to damn near fly, and each recoil from the trampoline sent JJ's frame dipping and then rising, driving his length impossibly deeper within you, hitting that spot perfectly.

"Fuck, I wish you could take this off," he breathed out, tugging slightly at your shirt, a faint moan woven into his words.

"Can't," you gasped, dropping slightly as it became harder to hold yourself up. "Neighbors."

JJ simply huffed out a laugh. "You don't seem to care about them too much right now, sweetheart—"

His words were cut off once more as you slapped a hand over his mouth, his blue eyes widening. "Sh. Shut up," you hushed him again, your eyes rolling back, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you ground down harder against him—your own orgasm nearing.

With a raised eyebrow, JJ's hand left your thigh, prying your hand off his lips before intertwining his fingers with yours. "Feisty," he sighed, looking you up and down with hungry eyes. "I like it." He winked. "But I think I've let you have enough fun, don't you think?"

At his words, the blonde sat up, your eyes snapping open. With both strong hands on your hips, halting your movements, your face twisted in confusion.

You yelped in surprise when JJ swiftly reversed your positions, leaving you underneath him, the Maybank boy pinning both your hands on either side of your head.

"What're you—"

"Shut up," he warned lowly, looking down at you as damp, blonde strands of hair fell across his face. You didn't miss the small smirk that appeared when you fell silent — eyes wide, face flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. "Atta girl," he praised, dipping down to kiss your forehead as one of his hands expertly realigned himself with your entrance. "Not so bold now, are you?"

"My skirt, J..." you whined, wiggling beneath him. "It's not covering us anymore..."

"It won't matter in a second, anyway, sweetheart." He laughed lowly, mainly to himself, as he pushed forward, pulling a gasp from you as your back arched off the trampoline. "'Cause if they don't see us, they'll definitely hear you."

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 162

series masterlist

a frustrated grunt caught your attention.

you'd been sitting at jack's kitchen table for far too long now, nose buried in coursebooks and eyes burning from staring at your laptop all morning. exam season was coming up, and just because you were missing lectures since you were stuck taking care of a 23-year-old man-baby didn't mean you weren't going to aim for the top grades. jack had no idea of this, of course; you'd told him you just happened to have a break from classes the exact weeks following his surgery, and he never questioned it.

you'd seen out of the corner of your eye that jack had stepped into the room a few minutes ago, but you had been too focused on your work to actually look over at him and see what he was doing. now that you turned around in your chair, you found him standing by the counter, a buttered knife in his good hand as a slice of bread in front of him. the toast was messed up with little lumps of butter haphazardly thrown around and newly made holes in random spots.

you watched him attempt to spread the butter evenly across the surface of it, but he was struggling to hold the bread still – it kept on sliding along the counter – and spread the butter with just one hand. his other arm hung restlessly in his sling, fingers almost twitching with the need to help out.

you closed your laptop, deciding that you're in need of a break, before taking a few quick strides over to jack. "hey, let me-"

"no," he said instantly, taking a side step away from you. he placed the knife in the hand of his injured shoulder, before holding the bread still with his other. "i don't need any help."

"i know you don't need it," you said, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned your hip against the counter. "but i want to make things easier."

"i don't need easy, i'm- fuck."

he cut himself off with a sharp hiss, his hands dropping what they were holding as his good hand came up to hold his shoulder. his eyes squeezed shut and he held his breath for a few moments. "i knew this was unnecessary," you mumbled, reaching up to rest a hand on his upper arm. "are you okay?"

he nodded quickly, taking a few breaths now, which should be a sign that the pain is subsiding. "more frustrated than anything." he opened his eyes, letting out a sigh when he saw your expression. "it's fine, it barely even hurts anymore. it just feels like getting stabbed, but it doesn't stay for long."

whether you trusted him or not didn't matter. either way, you gave his injury-free shoulder a light shove and stepped closer. "sounds good, but i'm going to be making this now anyway," you told him, voice gentle yet leaving no room for argument. "go sit on the couch, i'll be out in just a second?"

he merely grumbled as an answer, but you knew not to take it personally. especially since you remembered how jack had confided in you the other night about his injury and what it made him feel.

"i feel so... lost. without hockey. like, hockey has always been the one constant in my life, and now it's just... not here. and i can't do anything about it. and being stuck in this damn sling– it freaks me out, not being able to do whatever i want. i don't want to be restrained."

it wasn't like you were surprised. you had already figured it out. it was obvious, to be honest; jack's control issues have been a regular subject of your thoughts recently. it wasn't surprising to you that he'd get frustrated when his body suddenly limited his control.

not that you'd said any of that to him, though. you'd just listened and nodded, fingers tracing little swirls into his bare chest.

after buttering some toast – a new piece of bread from the bag, instead of the one jack had already started butchering – you made your way to the living room. he accepted the bread when you handed it to him, the smile on his lips a bit sheepish. "thank you," he said, humming when your hand came up to cup his jaw.

"you want anything to drink?" you asked, thumb running across his cheek.

"you don't need to."

you sighed, but he knew the roll of your eyes was playful. "not this again," you muttered. "i know i don't need to. i want to. so..."

jack visibly relaxed even further, nodding finally. "maybe some orange juice..."

you gave his soft skin one more rub before standing up. "i'll be right back."

however, it took you a while longer than you'd expected to get back to him. on the way to the fridge, you found his water bottle – you'd bought him one of those tiktok bottles with a straw, despite his many complaints, because you insisted that using it would be easier than one with a cap he'd have to screw on and off with his injured arm – and you filled it up with new, cold water. and then you realized that it was about time for oliver to get fed, so you poured some kibble into his bowl. just as you finished the task, the little puppy darted into the room, tail waggling at the sight of yet another meal.

after picking up a stray pair of jack's socks that lay on the ground and making your way into his bedroom to throw them into the laundry bin, you stopped in your tracks. with one hand still on the bedroom doorframe, you let the silence settle around you. the gentle sound of oliver's chewing back in the kitchen made its way to your ears, along with the gentle drip of the rain against the windows.

your eyes flickered back down to the socks in your hand – and you were hit with the simple domesticity of it all. the water bottle, the kibble, the laundry. things you'd never imagined yourself doing for someone else; not like this.

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your hair in a messy bun, jack's hoodie swallowing your frame, eyes tired but happy. the sight stilled you, because you looked like someone who belonged here. someone who was meant to be here, who was supposed to be here – and that scared you more than you'd expected.

you've always valued your own independence highly. just like jack, you don't want to need to depend on anyone; it makes you feel helpless. allowing yourself to feel weak in front of someone requires a type of vulnerability you haven't ever been ready for in a relationship before.

you want to remain yourself, a strong individual, and not just someone who falls into a category or a title. that guy's girlfriend. the daughter of the wealthy businessman. never wanting to get so close that you lose sight of yourself.

because when you depend too much on someone, when you melt into them and become a part of them, you lose control. then, if they leave you after making you lose all control, you're forced to rebuild from scratch. and you've always assumed that pain is way bigger than the joy you'd get from a relationship – so to protect yourself from it, it's been far easier to never get too close.

in all former relationships, you've always been looking forward to the day you can leave. counting down the minutes until you get to go home to your own apartment, dreaming of the day when it's late enough for you to bolt from a relationship without your friends giving you shit for not trying hard enough. but here and now... you've been staying over in jack's apartment every day for over a week in a row, only feeling the need to go back home once or twice to get some clean underwear and a book you'd forgotten before rushing back here.

and the weirdest part? you haven't once wanted to leave. no counting minutes, no waiting until he's fallen asleep to sneak out. just existing.

you've never before wanted to stay and take care of someone. you've never been the caretaker, never the one who lingers after the storm to sweep up the pieces. you've always been the one who walks away before the cracks show – before anyone can make fun of you for trying too hard.

who am i if i stay? am i allowed to want this? does it really have to mean that i'm weak?

even with these thoughts swirling in your mind, you went back into the kitchen, happily wiped crumbs from jack's toast massacre off the kitchen counter and threw them into the trash can. maybe, for now, you could allow yourself to just... do it. just live in this situation without thinking too much.

when you finally arrived back in the living room, glass of orange juice in your hand, ollie had finished his lunch and was now sleeping soundlessly on the couch. the dog had grown surprisingly much in the few weeks since jack got him, a couple of pounds heavier and body growing into the proportionally huge ears he'd had when you first saw him. and yet, he looked so tiny like this, crawled up by his dad's side. like he had no idea of anything bad in the world; like his dad would protect him from all evil.

he probably would, to be fair. just like you felt like he would keep you safe from the rest of the world, no matter the cost.

you settled into his side, intertwining your own hands in your lap. you could hear jack take a deep breath from beside you. "you know, it's almost funny," he said with a chuckle. "i never would've let anyone else see me like this. other than mom, maybe."

"like what?" you asked, tilting your head slightly to peer up at him.

"like someone you need to take care of. someone…" he paused to pull a hand through his hair. "helpless."

you shook your head. "you're not helpless," you countered instantly. "plus, it's not like that's the first time i've buttered your toast. i make you breakfast, i help pack your bags for road trips, i-"

"but those are things you do to be nice. little bonus things 'just because'. not things you do to help me out because i can't do them myself." his brows furrowed, and you instinctively reached for his hand when it dropped down into his lap. "i don't like being seen as... all weak and out of control and-" his hand tightened around yours, seemingly instinctively. "i don't know. i'd rather people saw me as tough and capable."

you ran your thumb across his knuckles as you hummed. "you are capable. i know so. you're just injured now for a little while, which doesn't make you less of a man or a person."

a long silence followed – but it wasn't awkward or stiff. it was comfortable, relaxed, like he was really taking in your words. "when you helped me out..." he chuckled to himself. "if it had been anyone else, i would've swatted their hands away. or gotten mad. but since it was you... i liked it."

he looked a little... almost embarrased by his own words. as if the words had come out before he had the chance to think them through. yet, he didn't take them back.

you let out a deep breath, unsure of what to answer. instead, you leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder. there had been something in the way he'd said it – quiet, hesitant – that made something shift in your chest.

your heart felt so warm and so big.

"you wanna know something else that's funny?" you asked, waiting to hear his hum of confirmation before continuing. "you're scared of feeling helpless, i'm scared of... the opposite, kind of."

"huh?"

you took a deep breath. "i don't know how to be... still," you said, as if that would make things easier for him to understand. "i don't know what it means if i stop running."

another silence, this time more contemplative. only a gentle attention-craving whine from ollie broke through it, but he calmed down again once jack used your joined hands to run across his back. and then, he hit you with exactly the words you needed to hear. "you're not weak for wanting to stay," he said, voice just a note above a whisper. "it means that you're strong, actually, because you're pushing through your fears."

your heart felt so full you were sure it would explode out of your chest.

"i know that vulnerability is scary, but... it doesn't have to be your enemy."

maybe he was onto something.

maybe staying means gaining something you never knew you wanted.

[applejusue]

Ⅵ 𝔎𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔫 𖤐.ᐟ ─── Marine Encounters #006

tldr; On a land full of confectionaries and new foods, Vi finds it difficult to not eat all of it. Now that she's no longer swimming and working out her entire body each day, she starts to notice the effects of her large appetite.

cw `# orca!vi, killer whale, size difference, comfort, fluff, eating, insecurity, weight gain, soft.

` tglist @cherry-coffees, @sider3us, @sevikas-whore, @kittymrtnezz69, @mxya-dreams, @marvelwomenarehot0, @twinklestarslight

𖤐.ᐟ ─── arcane masterlist | marine au masterlist

A soft hum filtered through the bedroom, barely audible. It was cold, a faint shiver skittering along your spine. Your eyes fluttered open heavily to the sound of chewing, slick, a rumble. The mattress was too light, Vi wasn't smothering you with her weight. The rattling continued from outside the room, and you pushed yourself upward tiredly.

Peering through the crack in the door, you noticed her crouched on the floor, mouth smeared red. For a split second your heart stuttered, watching her black eyes flicker against the cold blue light. You fumbled groggily into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a drooping tee and underwear.

"Sweetheart-.."

Vi's head snapped up like a deer, staring wide eyed as the fridge illuminated her broad shoulders. It reminded you of how she normally looked, bathed in deep waters. As you approached, you noticed the puff pastry box that now lay empty on the floor, blotches of jam staining her lips. Even with the orca lowered, you were still only a little bit taller. You leaned down, gently swiping your thumb over her chin.

"..Hello.."

Her voice was a low purr, a gentle vibration as she pushed her way into your stomach. It tickled, and a tired smile pressed at your lips. Her words had come along significantly, mainly from her time on land with you and the exposure it brought. One of her favorite words was 'hello', and she certainly didn't use it sparingly. Your hands waded through her dark tufts of hair, scratching at her salted roots.

"Hello baby.."

You muttered back, finding it impossible to scold someone so sweet. Things were getting a little out of hand, though, you couldn't keep buying groceries. The orca was insatiable, and that was fine when she was in a sea littered with fish. On land, you didn't exactly have the luxury of unlimited food for her heavy diet. It also didn't help that everything was so new, she was drawn to the sweet treats and savory flavors that she couldn't get under water.

"Come here, I want to talk to you.."

Vi followed wordlessly, padding along the carpet. She fumbled into your arms on the sofa like a dog who hasn't realized yet that they're much bigger than they used to be. Not that you minded, though, it helped with your anxiety to have her warm weight pushing down on you. Your eyes drooped shut sleepily for a moment, cozying up to her before getting back on track.

"Listen, I know that all this food is lovely.. and that you get very hungry but.."

A sigh drifted from your lips, feeling a flicker of guilt in your heart. In Vi's mind, your fridge was an ocean. It was just a magical box that food appeared in. She wasn't aware that she was burning through two weeks worth of shopping in a few days. Vi peeked up at you curiously, brows furrowed in concentration like they always were when she was trying to understand your human tongue.

"Well.."

As you gazed down at those big dark eyes it was practically a lost cause, you already knew you were giving in. It wasn't her fault, the orca was large and hungry and it was your responsibility to take care of her. Maybe you just needed a different system, or a child lock. Either way, you'd figure something out that suited the both of you. You shook your head, drawing her in closer to your chest.

"Never mind.."

The orca watched your lips move, curious and still a little confused by what you were talking about. Vi nuzzled into your t-shirt, inhaling the smell of your fabric softener. Gentle purrs emanated from the back of her throat, a new discovery of yours that was clearer now that she was no longer beneath the water. Originally, you had just assumed she pitched, higher frequent sounds. Now that she wasn't submerged you realized her vocalizations were much broader. Her big arms surrounded you, stomach full and warm from her midnight munches.

˖✩࿐࿔

Over the next few days, Vi had begun to notice some changes. Her lower stomach, once taut was now softer, less firm. It was the same with her upper thighs, like a gentle blubber coat that laid atop her muscles. Never having experienced something like that before, she didn't put two and two together. Threading water each day and swimming for hours allowed Vi to keep up with her body's fierce diet, but now that she was on land she still had the hunger, just without the exercise to balance.

You'd noticed it too, it was cute. Her little smush of belly and soft upper thighs were comforting in their own way, made her a little less intimidating. You weren't sure if she really understood, or if she'd cared but you certainly weren't pointing it out to your girlfriend. For the sake of your wallet, though, you had been encouraging fruit seeing as she always needed to be munching on something. Vi had taken a particular liking to peaches, and it was much easier than having to always buy meats.

That evening you were editing some photos for the aquarium leaflet. You were sat in a cozy hoodie on the sofa, comfortable with your laptop sitting on the arm of the sofa. Last you seen Vi she was in the laundry room, she liked the smell of detergent and to watch the machine swirling the clothes. Your only warning that she was coming was thudding steps, before your lap was invaded. Her body was strewn across the sofa, your hands lowering to her hair absentmindedly as you continued to adjust your photo settings.

After a few minutes of quiet cuddling, Vi tugged your hand from her hair. You glanced down curiously, and she was already staring up at you with big puppy eyes. Before you could even question what she was doing, the orca dragged your hand down to her stomach, pushing up her shirt. You bit back a gentle smile, feeling her soft tummy that now peeked over her shorts. Vi still had all of that muscle, she was just a little.. softer.

"Babies?"

The orca spoke up nervously, her eyes searching yours with a seriousness that was almost amusing. Vi knew all about breeding with other sea creatures, but had all your kissing inadvertently blessed her with calves? She wasn't very knowledgeable about how human mating worked, all she knew was that her body was different. This time, you couldn't hold back your laughter. You shook your head gently, tracing the soft pudge along her chest. While she was concentrated, you tried to explain.

"No sweetheart, it's just food.."

You murmured lightly, watching the gears in her head churn slowly as she thought about your words. You could tell she still didn't understand, so you kept going.

"When you eat a lot of food, most people start to get it stored in their stomach like this. You're very tall, baby, so it's normal that you eat so much.."

An amused smile was blessing your cheeks, gaze drifting back to your computer to toggle with some more settings. You continued to rub along her stomach as she purred gently, relieved at least that she wasn't having any babies. Not that she didn't want them with you, she just hadn't figured out how yet. The unfamiliar changes still had her a little worried though, a gently pitch pulsing through her throat.

You glanced back down to her, setting your laptop aside for a moment. You managed to haul her up further onto your lap so you were closer to face to face. You tucked away some of those dark tufts, nosing at her cheek gently in a way you knew she liked.

"You don't need to worry, I still think you're the cutest thing I've ever seen.."

You spoke gently, leaving a small peck against her cheek. Her happy vibrations buzzed through you as she pulled you around. A soft giggle fled your lips as she began to bluster you with kisses all over your face, trying to hide from her attack. Your gravity shifted suddenly as she dragged you down against the back of the sofa. Your cheeks turned hot red as she towered over you playfully, her hand pushing against your own stomach.

"Babies?"

[asapeveryday]

noctuary #6 - p.b x tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--read pt.5 here

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: drinking, smoking

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: hi it’s been a tough couple days and I also accidentally deleted like almost all of this fic and had to restart which. Made me want to abandon it all together honestly so sorry for the wait.

FIRE CRACKLES COMFORTINGLY behind you, orange beautifully contrasting with the deep navy night.

You're on your third drink, not drunk, but buzzing, all tingly fingertips and loose smiles as Nika's shoulder bumps yours. You're got your arm strung around her—a little too much pda for your sober tastes--but she's off balance without it and you're having too much fun to care.

The group is big, a large posse amongst the existing cluster or people surrounding the trash-fire. You and Nika, glued by strewn limbs, Aubrey, Ice and Caroline, who are reaching that giggly phase of alcohol intake, Kk and Jana, one bouncing off the walls and the other wholly sober.

They're a tight knit family, it's obvious as you watch them, the light punches and unintelligable jokes, the looks shot over heads that only they can compute. It doesn't make you feel like an outsider, suprisingly it makes you feel warm. After one too many arguments and another hour spent in their circle by the fire, you feel like their stares aren't so foreign after all.

They like you. They have names for your name: newbie, horse girl, crossbow babe, drug dealer. They label you with laughter and genuine care, no malice. By your fourth drink, it doesn't occur to you to be offended. They have names for themselves too, and they're not much better.

"Nah, you guys don't get it." Nika grins sloppily, squeezing your shoulder with the arm that's slung around you. "She's our plug. We gotta respect her."

"You got any on you?" Caroline raises a curious brow. Before you can respond, Kk's patting your front pockets down from behind.

"Oh naw, she's off duty I guess." Kk slurs, taking her hands off of you.

"You can't just feel her up like that!" Jana laughs, tearing Kk away.

"Yeah, back off my plug." Nika huffs, shooing the shorter girl away. "Or else she's only gonna sell for me."

"I'm not even selling." You roll your eyes with a smile. "You guys get my shit for free."

"Oh for real?" Ice's eyes widen. "Thought Paige was trading you something."

You take another sip of your drink at the mention of her name, shuddering as it makes it's way down.

"Me too." Kk nods. "Where'd you get all these cute ass clothes from then?"

"This," Nika grins warmly, pointing at your body, "is all me, baby."

"Yeah, I thought so." Aubrey nods. "Did you dress like this back where you came from?"

"Like this?" You motion to your bare legs. "We didn't get to just hang out, we were always working. You can't fight infected in this."

"Do you miss it?" Caroline asks lightly. "All the action, I mean."

The others tune in, and you realize just how interested they are in you. Still, you can't help but stiffen at the question, it was only all you'd been thinking about in the past week.

When you falter Nika fills in the silence, fingers squeezing your shoulder in quiet notice. "Bro, just say you want her to take your spot on patrol and move on." She says, and the others laugh without notice of your hesitation.

"I wouldn't" Aubrey shrugs. "I mean, it's nice to get out there. But you deserve a break."

"She's been having a break!" Kamorea laughs. "Girl has been brushing horses for a damn month."

"Suprised you're not bored yet." Caroline hums. "I'd be depressed."

"Everyone's depressed either way." Jana snorts, and the girls ceremoniously clink their drinks with mhm's and you right's ringing somberly through the air. You raise your drink to Nika's, nodding mindlessly as she catches your eye, clinking her beer bottle to yours.

You realize at that moment, through all the murmurs and laughter against that crackling fire, that all of them struggle too. Maybe it's the reason for all of these festivities, the late night joints and boombox blasting. You can appreciate their efforts to make Jackson as normal as they can. It's admirable, heart-warming, even.

"Whatchu smiling to yourself for?" Nika raises a brow, bringing all the attention back to you.

"Nothing." You bite back a grin, shaking your head.

"C'mon now." Kk teases, flinging an arm around the side opposite Nika's. You're sandwiched between the two girls, both of them swaying to the old rnb that graces the air.

"You guys aren't too bad, that's all." You mutter, cowering slightly as the expressions around you break into giddy smiles.

"I think we cracked her." Aubrey hums, nudging Caroline and Ice fondly. Jana stalks over to fling her arms around you too, but the height difference is so awkward that it makes you all laugh.

Ice takes Caroline by the hand, who then latches onto Aubrey. In a drunken line they join the huddle, arms circling around the girls that already squeeze you tight.

In normal times you would've gone as far as bites or blows to get them off, but the smell of smoke and beer against their amused giggles and warm hearts makes the contact far more palatable.

Even if it's elevated by alcohol, and your head is spinning slightly and your balance is growing off-center, it still feels good.

You can barely see ahead of you, even with some squirming to loosen their grips. They start to sway in unison, shrill squeals and laughs ringing through the air. Somewhere along the stumbling around, a crack opens in your line of sight.

You can see the glow of orange flame, the clusters of other people scattered, and a body in the middle, all eyes but your posse's on her. In that moment it feels like the air is being sucked in her direction, all of the attention, every component of Jackson's Milky Way directly warped into her gravitational pull. You feel the pressure in the air.

When you stop swaying, the others do too. Nika mumbles something, but you don't respond, You just stare at the approaching figure, eyes squinting, trying to make out the face.

High cheekbones, dotted with divets left by teenage acne and picked scabs. Lashes long, downturned, serving perimeter to electric blue eyes. Full lips, pink beneath the chapped lines. Blonde hair greased back into a bun.

The girls pause too, they turn too slow, and they gawk at her. They're sucked into her pull just like the rest of them. You're the first to break, refusing to contribute to her attention-grabbing presence, but you don't speak.

Nika breaks second, parting from the group.

"Big P!" Nika squeals, running over to her with arms outstretched, drunkenly crashing a little too hard. Paige smiles and welcomes the pummel-hug with an amused look, noting Nika's trashed state.

The other girls follow soon after, shoving her, surveying her condition, ruffling her hair, flicking her shoulder. You stay planted, nursing your drink.

Her lips move as she speaks to them, low and charming beneath their excited volume. They ask and she answers, but her eyes stay on you.

You watch her stance, a slight limp but still somehow balanced as an athlete, posture perfect, head held high. Her eyes wash over you like cold water, you can feel them drag over your clean hair, beer-flushed complexion, bare skin. She wets her chapped lips, and for whatever reason, you catch it. And you shiver.

The girls make another fuss. They trust she'll always come back, but they're ecstatic nonetheless when she does. Nika grabs a beer from someone nearby. Paige cracks it open with a shiv she slips from her pocket, throws her head back and downs at least half.

You watch her throat as she swallows before her head dips forward again, a dirty hand raising to wipe her mouth. Those who stand by whoop and holler the whole way through. They raise their drinks to her, call out her name, and succumb to her gravity.

She raises her drink to you, ignoring the power she has.

Or perhaps not noticing at all.

YOUR SKIN RESEMBLES goose flesh for the rest of the evening.

It's animalistic, you feel like prey. Paige lingers, she works the party. She dallies with every group there is, and yet you can feel her eyes, those beautiful, awful, fucking eyes on your back, your neck, your face, every expanse of skin she can zero in on.

She wants to talk. You don't have to be a genius to understand that. She works the group like a true people-pleaser, but in doing that she circles you. Watches your interactions, the way arms sling possessively around you, the way her friends claim you to be their own. And she can't even get close.

She's slicked with sweat. It glistens off of her forhead and her bare arms against the fire light. She talks to some girl who's intently gazing into her eyes, but Paige keeps breaking that contact to shoot glances at you as you talk to Nika.

"Uh, hello?"

"Sorry." You jerk, snapping back to Nika's face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, one brow raised dangerously.

"You gunna talk to her?" Nika smiles slyly. "Cusss' she's staring at you so hard it's actually pissing me off." She slurs.

"You're drunk." You dismiss her, ignoring how Paige glances over again.

"Bitch," Nika groans, "I bet she missed your robotic ass. Prolly wishes she took you with her."

"Shut up." You sigh.

"Look at her." Nika snorts, turning so obviously to glare at Paige. "She's already drunk, crazy girl. Who the hell comes back after four days out there and gets drunk?"

"Nika, stop." You urge her, but it's too late. The brunette is waving Paige down aggressively, saying, "P! Put the beer down and go take a damn shower!"

You sigh, chugging the last of your water as Paige makes her way over with obvious struggle.

"What'd you say?" Paige chuckles, intoxication evident in her tone.

"I said you stink." Nika grins. "Stop drinking and go home n' wash up."

"Ion' think I smell that bad." Paige hums, tipping her beer bottle back for another sip. "Lemme celebrate. You guys always do fun shit when I'm out."

"You're the one who dips without Geno's permission." Nika shoots back. "He's seriously gonna kill you tomorrow, by the way."

Paige just shrugs, glancing at you sneakily. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. You can sense her thinking, preparing herself to speak with you. You beat her to it.

"Where's Sue?" You ask.

Paige looks affronted for a moment, and Nika bursts out laughing.

"Horse girl only has one thing on her mind!" Nika wheezes, slapping your back. "Damn, you're something."

"What?" You frown, glancing between the two of them. Nika laughs way more than your comment should've probed. Paige just bites her lip.

"P leaves for four days and you only care about the damn horse." Nika snorts.

"Someone has to." You shrug, shooting an apologetic look Paige's way. She shakes her head with a little smile, amused.

"Left her with Ashley and Sarah at the gate." Paige hums. "They're taking her to the stables."

You nod.

The conversation dies out. A few of the other girls find your group, chattering away with Nika while occasionally including you and Paige in the mix. You just down your water, Paige her beer.

She sneaks glances at you in between mindless chuckles and jibs between words. Those looks, the one thousand ways her eyes slice you open like a machete to flesh, mean something other that what leaves her mouth.

They bleed questions and their answers, unintelligible analysis that you’re sure you want no part of. It’s like you’re being pulled through walls towards her by this impossible vortex.

Of course, sharp-eyed Nika can sense it through her drunken state.

“You guys good?” She cuts through the thick air, waving a hand over your eyes and shooting Paige a look. “Ya’ll got something to talk about?”

“No.” You say before Paige can answer. “I think I’m done for the night, actually. M’gonna head home.”

There it is again, the bumps on your arms at the raise of Paige’s brows, subtle but there, expression illuminated by the fire light. Nika just groans.

“Nnoooo…” She whines, latching onto you. “Stayyy. Paige just got here.”

“I know.” You bite your lip. “Sorry, Paige. I’m exhausted.”

“S’fine.” Paige nods, though she thinks for a moment. “I should go too. I’ve had a long couple days.”

“Are you serious?” Nika scoffs, turning to Paige now. “You’re both leaving?”

Your eyes catch hers over Nika’s head. You both shrug, small smiles playing on your lips.

“Okay, well fuck.” Nika huffs. “You guys walking together?”

“Uh,” you mumble. “Are we?”

“My house is on the way to yours.” Paige nods. “So yeah, if that’s alright.”

“It’s fine.” You nod.

“You guys are so weird.” Nika smirks, eyes darting between the two of you. “Stay safe I guess. Don’t piss in any bushes or else Dawn is gonna swiss cheese you.”

“Meaning?” You raise a brow. Paige just shakes her head with a laugh. “Never mind that.”

You shift on your feet. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah.” Paige nods.

THE WALK IS mostly quiet.

The sky is so clear, speckled with stars and wholly cloudless. The smell of smoke grows more and more faint, but it lingers on your clothes and hair. She smells like smoke too, along with four day sweat and dry blood. She’s not covered like she was when you first came here with her, just a few splatters here and there. Not much struggle, it seems.

She keeps glancing at you, you’re not surprised, just unsure how to talk. It was so natural the last time you spoke.

Finally, you meet her eyes. She glances away in a split second when you catch her, but smiles and looks at you again more clearly after a beat, accepting the eye contact. You both grin slightly at the awkwardness of it all.

“How was it?” You ask.

“Good.” She nods, “much needed.”

“I’m sure.” You hum. “You were missed.”

“By you?”

“By everyone.” You shoot back, eyes narrow. She laughs a little at your response, shaking her head.

“You’re never gonna let me have it, are you?”

“Have what?”

“Never mind..” She snorts. “So, did they talk bout me?”

“Not really.” You shrug.

“So how’d they miss me then?”

“They just did.” You state, planting your eyes on the gravel road you walk on. “I can tell.”

“Well,” Paige mumbles, eyeing you closely, “I guess I did get a pretty warm welcome.”

You nod halfway, recalling the way the world seemed to stop once people recognized her. It was overwhelming, powerful, but also terrifying. Maybe something you wanted to bring up. But not now.

“Are you hurt?” You ask.

“Exhausted.” Paige smiles. “Super drunk, by the way. And exhausted. And aching.”

“Paige.” You frown.

“Not hurt.” Paige doubles down. “Not badly, anyways.”

“Yours or something else’s?” You ask, pointing to the speckle of blood on her black tank.

“Something else.”

“Were there a lot?”

“No.” She hums. “It was calm.”

You nod, subtly eyeing the way she walks. Her steps are heavy, her head seemingly held with much effort. You can tell now that the buzz of socializing has worn off, she’s incredibly tired.

“You looked like you were having fun.” Paige cuts between your thoughts.

“And what does that look like?” You ask.

“Not like anything I’ve seen from you before.” She snorts, and you feel a slight prick of jealousy from her. “You were all smiley. N’ they were all over you.”

“Yeah, well.” You shrug. “I’m a few too many drinks deep. And you have good friends.”

“Looks like they’re your friends too.” She says, eyes piercing you like spears.

“Jealous?” You glance at her, feeling a little surge of hot confidence against the cool wind.

She chews her lip for a moment, half taken aback from your forwardness and half amused by it.

“It’s good to see you like that.” She finally shoots out. “But I can’t help but be jealous too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. You weren’t expecting that answer either. She laughs, seeing it on your face.

“No need to be.” You manage to chuckle. “They might just like me for the weed anyways.”

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I think they like me. But I also think we were all drunk. That changes things.”

She nods slightly. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Not like before.” You say. “M’ not sober though. Still tingling.”

“Sweet.” Paige grins, looking up at the sky. “I’m not even gonna lie, everything is kinda spinning right now. Like, not a lot, but it’s kinda making me feel sick.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” She hums, popping the p. You watch as she closes her eyes, head still tilted to wards the stars. “Fuck, the fresh air feels so good.”

“Paige, how far is your house?” You ask. “N’ are you good to walk home alone when I leave?”

“I’m fine.” She says with little worry. “I’ve done harder things while drunk.”

“Okay..” you trail off, worry only growing as you spy your house coming up on the road.

“Should I walk you to the door?” Paige grins, laughter a ghost on her lips.

“No need to be a gentleman.” You shake your head with a smile, walking up the path to your front door. She follows beside you anyways, tripping slightly as you pass through the gate.

“Paige, you good?” You frown, even more concerned. “I don’t think you’re gonna make it home tonight.”

“Of courseeee I am.” Paige huffs. “I always make it home.”

The comment sinks a little deeper than it should. Maybe it’s the slightly pathetic way she says it, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. The way she says it so easily, like there’s no question...or rather no room for question at all.

Before you can even respond, she jerks away from you and folds over, vomiting onto the bush by your front door.

"Fuck." You curse, rushing over to hold back the strands of hair that escape from her loose bun. You let your fingers pull back the blonde whisps as she empties her guts on your front lawn, pulling away once or twice just to gag and do it all over again.

It's only a few seconds later that she's spitting up saliva, breathing heavy, hands on her knees.

"Sorry about your bush." She coughs out, glancing at you with embarrassment.

Those words make your chest pinch.

"Jesus, Paige. I don't give a crap about my bush." You frown, taking in her face, which is now pale and shiny with sweat. "Why the fuck are you so accommodating all the time? You're drunk and exhausted, you don't have to be sorry for anything."

Her brow just furrows, and she takes one hand off of her knee to harshly wipe her lips. After a slow blink, all she says is, "Huh?"

You pause.

"Never mind." You sigh, trying not to look at the bile all over your lawn. "Just—just come inside."

Paige's eyes widen. "I'm fine."

"Just spend the night. Wash up, sleep." You tut. "I won't be the reason you blackout on the way home."

"I guess I could use a shower, huh." Paige grins, though it's one of the weakest she's spared you yet. You open the door for her, and she steps inside like it's her own house.

You look outside at the clear, starry sky, and will your chest to unravel whatever tension always seems to build around her. Your fingertips tingle. Your head pounds. You breath the clean air, and then step inside.

THE NIGHT IS long, and quiet aside from the sound of her breathing, and the whirr of your electrical fan.

It was all sort of a blur. You showed her around briefly via the point of your finger. Kitchen. Living room. Stairs. Bedroom. Bathroom.

You poured her a glass of water, and draped your couch with your blankets and pillows. She complained the whole way through, but slumped over on the old cushions like they’d been calling her name all night.

She was asleep before you could offer her anything else. And then it was just the sound of air through her nostrils and the creak of floorboards under your feet.

You find yourself in bed, back to the mattress, eyes on the popcorn ceiling. They open. They close. You hold them that way, but nothing happens. Your breathing slows. You fingers stop twitching. No sleep comes.

You turn to the side. You put on a thicker pair of pyjamas shorts. You wrap yourself in a blanket, then sweat profusely till you strip those shorts off and the blanket is kicked to the foot of your bed. You almost take your top off too before you remember Paige is sleeping just upstairs on your couch.

Cicadas sound from outside. Moonlight is your only guide to the shape of your room. You don’t know how long you’ve been trying to go to bed, but it feels like it’s been well over a night already.

There’s a creak from upstairs.

You still.

It’s small, like the shift of someone’s weight. It pauses, then you hear it again. A creak, and a soft groan.

You hurriedly shimmy your pyjamas shorts on, flinging a blanket over your body and turning your back to face the staircases direction. You keep your eyes open, but allow your breaths to fall rhythmically.

You can hear legs shift off of the couch upstairs, feet on hardwood, and then you hear her stand. She steps slowly, like she’s struggling to make her way around.

She pauses by the staircase like she’s thinking. And then she takes a weary step down.

You try to fake sleep as best as possible, but it’s hard knowing she’s walking down the stairs that lead into your basement-bedroom. You can hear the moment she steps foot onto your floor again, and the pause. The weight of her stare, brief but there, on your form in bed.

She turns to the bathroom just nearby. The door whines as it opens, and then shuts with a soft click.

You turn back towards her direction, spying the faint glow of bathroom light through the cracks of the door. Running water from the showerhead fills the house's silence.

You try your best to fall asleep again. It's odd, having another living person in your space again. Back home, the bunks full of girls were suffocating, but you've grown used to sleeping in a quiet home since coming to Jackson. The sound of the shower running throws that off.

Most of all, you don't want to be awake when she comes out. So you screw your eyes shut, turn your back on the door, and try to clear your mind.

And then you remember the only clothes she has are the ones she's been stewing in for the past four days out in the wild. She'll have to get back into those scraps after her shower and attempt to fall asleep again.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly get up from your bed and step over to your closet.

What would Paige want to wear? It's not like you have an abundance of options, and you honestly don't think she could care less. You shake your head, trying not to think so hard about it, and settle for some thin sweat-shorts that are too long on you, and a stained black t-shirt.

After a pause, you wedge some loose men's boxers between the folded clothes. Just in case.

You hold the clothes against you for a moment, listening to the sound of running water behind you. It feels--weird, to say the least. To be here, picking out her clothes as she showers in your bathroom after a night out. Like if things were normal, this is what you'd be doing more often.

The water stops, and the shower curtains pull open behind the bathroom door.

You take a step, quiet aside from the creak beneath your bare feet, and pause in front of the peeling wood. Gingerly, you knock,

"Paige?"

"Oh, shit." She says, voice echoing through the door. "I thought I'd be able to keep you from waking up. My bad."

"It's fine." You tut, choosing not to share the fact that you've been awake all night. "I thought, uhm. That you'd want something to change into. Other than whatever grimy thing you came here in."

She opens the door before you can step back from it, and she opens it wide with no shame. The bathroom is moist. Her hair is darker, wet and slicked back slightly against her shiny skin. She's got an old towel wrapped tight around her, and a slightly embarrassed, tight lipped smile on her face.

"Oh." You flinch, not expecting her to be so close. You hold out the folded clothes. "Uh, here."

Paige looks at you for a moment, up and down, at your worn, wrinkled pyjamas, and the neat stack of clothes. She shifts to hold the towel around her with one hand, and then takes the clothes with the other.

"Thanks." She nods.

"No problem." You say back awkwardly.

She just smiles a little wider, cheeks red as she shakes her head and closes the door.

You try your best not to cringe at yourself, sitting against the edge of your bed feeling completely out of place.

There's some shuffling behind the bathroom door, before the light turns off and the door opens again. Out she comes, black tee fitting a little too perfect, sweat-shorts slightly water stained. She holds her old clothes in a scrunched ball against her chest.

Her hair is a little tousled, towel dried hastily, and slightly wavy against her shoulders. The sleeves of the shirt are a tad bit tight against the curve of her biceps. She looks better. more awake. Less like she smells of blood, more like she smells of the mystery-scented soap you use to bathe.

"So." She raises her brow, noting your long stare. "I'm hungover, but I'm fine. I can...head out."

That snaps you out of it. "Paige." You snort. "Just keep the clothes on the floor somewhere and go to bed."

"That's the thing." She sighs. "I'm awake now. Don't wanna be a bother."

You just get up from your seat on the bed, making your way towards the stairs before turning your head slightly to glance at her. "Just put the clothes down, Paige."

She sets them down gingerly by her feet and follows you wordlessly.

The stairs croak under your feet and hers. You try not to think of her view of you as you scale the steps in front of her, relaxing a little when you reach the living room.

"Do you want something to eat?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"Nah." She mumbles. "Water would be great though."

You nod, quietly filling a chipped glass with tap water and handing it to her, noting the way she eyes your every move. Her fingertips graze yours as she takes the glass from you. You try not to stare as she downs it in one go.

The house is quiet again. She shifts on her feet.

You can't take it suddenly, the quiet, the lack of buzz in your system. Wordlessly, you brush past her and speed downstairs, rummaging through your bedside table drawers and running back up.

"What was that?"

"C'mon." You huff, heading to the front door.

You open it, she steps out warily. The air is thick and humid, but on occaision theres a chilly wind that clears out all the heat. You join her, sitting on the front steps of your porch. She sits down next to you, and you hold out a lighter.

Paige watches as you place a blunt between your lips and lean forward. She stalls--just for a moment--and then flicks the flame on. An orange glow illuminates her face and yours as you wait for the fire to catch, before pulling away and exhaling smoothly.

"Is this what you do when you can't sleep?" She asks.

"No. I usually thug it out. I've been saving this one." You shrug, taking another hit before passing it to her, fingers brushing again.

"For me?" She grins, white teeth bared.

You just look at her. No response.

"Makes sense." She shrugs, lips wrapping around the paper with practiced ease. Her jaw flexes as she inhales and purses her lips on the exhale. Smoke flows from her mouth into the blue night. "I feel like you talk to me easier when you're high."

"It's never easy." You scoff.

"Why?"

"I wish I knew." You mumble honestly. She just looks at you. Not with any distane, no hurt. Just thoughtfulness, the type she decides is better kept to herself.

She passes the blunt back to you. You can feel the mental haze forming already.

"Does it do anything?" You puff. "Running away when it gets hard?"

"I'm not running away." She frowns.

"I'm not judging you." You shoot back. "I'm curious, too."

She thinks for a moment. "It's temporary." Paige nods. "The adrenaline. And the feeling of nobody depending on me. I just need it sometimes. Or else it it's all too much."

You just hum in agreement.

"How's it been?" She asks. "Have you decided to settle n' play with horses all day?"

You pass the joint back to her. "I'll go on patrol." You say.

Paige just blows smoke and smiles. It's lazy, but true. White teeth bared, pink lips pulled up. It makes you shiver.

"Cold?" She grins.

"A little."

"I'm sweating." She hums. "Might be the boxers. They're warm."

You chuckle. "Figured you wouldn't wanna go freebie in those shorts."

"Nah, I like em." She nods, hooking her finger around the waitband of her boxers to show you. The faded band of fabric is peeking over the hem of her sweat-shorts. You let yourself stare.

"You ever worn these?" Paige asks.

"No." You say. "Makes my thighs chafe."

"Shame." Paige hums, but you don't miss how her eyes dart to your bare legs, at the skin that shows as your pj shorts sit high on them.

You watch as she catches herself checking you out, blinking before biting her lip and looking away. She hands the blunt back without a glance.

You feel light as air when you ask, "How come you knew I wasn't happy?"

"Did I?" She plays dumb.

"Didn't you?" Your eyes narrow at her. She holds that gaze with no problem. "Somehow, you knew I wanted more."

"Well, you made it pretty damn clear." Paige scoffs. "You seemed fuckin' miserable. And nobody actually enjoys being on horse duty all day. Brushing and braiding horses isn't a daily job. You were doing jackshit."

"Hey!" You cough, handing the blunt back as you catch your breath. "I did saddles too. Gave everything a top-up."

"Yeah, well." Paige smiles, raising her brows. "Compared to what you used to do, I figured you'd be pretty unfufilled spending the rest of your life in the barn."

"So that's it?" You snort. "You knew because the barn is boring?"

Paige just pauses, looking out to the sky as she brings a hand to her face, rubbing her mouth nervously.

"Oh, there's something else." You scoff. "Seriously, what?"

"Nothing."

"Paige." You say seriously. She half glances at you, bottom lip between her teeth.

"Paige." You drawl again.

She puts out the butt of the joint on the concrete steps.

"It was the time we all smoked in the movie theatre. The first time you hung out with everyone."

"Okay." You nod.

"We were talking about something--something stupid. Like hooking up in risky places or whatever." She continues on. Her ears are turning pink. "Your answer. Just, like. Y'know, kinda made it obvious what kind of life you're used to living."

You swallow, taking in how flustered she is. You feel light as a feather, and ready to poke at that newfound embarrassment she's showing. You decide to play dumb.

"I barely even remember that." You hum solemnly. "What'd I say again?"

"I dunno." She mumbles.

"Sure you do. It striked you enough to offer me patrol." You egg her on.

"Something about an artillery room." Paige breaks, cheeks pink. "On a table with guns. Or something."

"Oh," You sigh, resting your head in your palms. "That. I remember that."

"Anyway." She swallows tersely. "You obviously like adrenaline. I'm the same way."

"Uhuh." You roll your eyes. "Good to know."

She pales. "Didn't mean it like that."

“It’s still true though, isn’t it.” You snort, surprising yourself with the boldness. She seems surprised too, or maybe just flustered overall. She runs a her hand through her damp hair, bicep flexing at the curve of her arm.

“I guess.” She mumbles.

“You guess?”

“S’been a while.” She shrugs, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Hm.” You nod. “I’m surprised.”

She turns to you now, brows furrowed slightly. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” You raise your hands. “Just—y’know. I figured you were…getting around.”

“What made you think that?” She presses, and now it’s your turn to be embarrassed.

“You just give that vibe.” You state. The real reason is because she’s attractive, but you won’t say that.

“Bro.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “Far from it.”

A beat passes. Wind blows a little.

“I’ve only been with one person.” She mutters under her breath.

You still.

“Azzi?” You ask. “The one on some expedition?”

She nods. “We were a thing for a while. Not anymore—I told you that already—but I learnt everything through that relationship. And we were young, so we weren’t really going that crazy.”

“Not fucking on artillery room tables, is what you mean.”

She chokes back a laugh. “Yeah—yeah, that.”

“S’ fair.” You nod, ignoring the pinch in your stomach at the turn of conversation. “Well, you never had to sneak around. Not like I did. It was artillery room, or a bunk full of twenty other girls.”

Paige pauses. She looks at you softly, those piercing blue eyes not nearly as harsh as you recall them to be. “My bad. That’s…not what I meant.”

“I know.” You shrug.

The wind stops. Air turns warm again, makes your skin sticky, the roots of your hair frizzy. Stars twinkle from above.

“When’ll we patrol?” You ask her, struggling to talk through the cotton mouth.

“Whenever you want.” She hums.

Her knee bumps yours on the steps. She hovers close by you as you both rise from the porch and head inside. She slinks back to the couch, you downstairs to your bed.

You sweat like a pig in the house, still warm from being outside with her. You tear off your pyjama shorts, slip under the covers, and close your eyes.

And finally, you fall asleep.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld @hellokittyfeenie @lively-blues @surferandskater

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Can you do a platonic Optimus x cybertronian reader, who is an Autobot and Megatron's sparkling? Like reader used to support their father in the beginning, but when Megatron got off the roads and became the tyrannical warlord, reader decided to leave and become an Autobot. Despite having supported Autobots from the start and having Optimus's full trust, because of reader's relation to Megatron, reader had received a lot of mistrust in the Autobot ranks. This sometimes causes reader to feel alone and down. On Earth things are a bit better, but maybe one night reader feels down and misses the old days, and Optimus is there to comfort them?

☆ "NO PLACE FOR ME IS HOME" — [TFP] Optimus Prime

oh anon, you just want to make me shed tears and IM HERE FOR IT. this is going to be so tragic.

scenario: you consider yourself Megatron's… protegé but that's all that you wish you were to Megatron but at least you have Prime comfort you

warning: angst and pain, fatherly issues

You hate it. You hate it so much when the memories of who he once was floods back into your helm— It happens every single time the two of you make optic contact, Megatron is quick to look away first. He never acknowledges you in a confrontation, ever. The warlord tsks and walks away quietly, it's uncharacteristic of him but… you'd really rather not talk to him either. Your spark aches when you think of what's become of him. You can see the bitterness in his optics when you're in his peripheral, it's not the typical rage and hate. No. It's...

Sadness.

He misses you too. Maybe. You're not so sure. He isn't like how you used to know him.

With your knees tucked to your chassis, servos holding them tight against you, you sit at the top of the base. The somber night sky somehow makes this all the more nostalgic as you think of times when things were different..

The day you first met him.

The day your life changed.

“Uh… hi!!!”

The gladiator had just been done with another match, the precipitation and energon stains fresh on his frame— He will need to get to his sad excuse of a living quarters to clean himself properly. But he stops right in his tracks as the voice catches his attention, another fan? Megatronus prepares himself. He looks around, he doesn't see anyone and his optical ridges furrow in confusion. Was he hearing things? What's happening? The voice was somewhat high pitched and squeaky. Meanwhile, his new, tiny little fan was waiting there for their idol to see them.

“..here! Down here!”

That catches his attention and his optics immediately dart down. He sees you, a little bot, azure optics so bright that Megatronus might be able to use you as a lantern. Though, he is surprised to see a sparkling here, especially during this hour at Kaon of all cities.

“What are you doing here, little one?” He asks with concern, stooping down to your level as he observes you in curiosity. Megatronus’ warm blue optics meet yours and the little you couldnt help but feel slightly intimidated.

“Uhm.. I was here to just tell you that… that I really liked your match today.”

Your words make his derma curve up into a soft smile, such genuine sincerity he found so endearing but then it struck him. What in the name of Primus was a sparkling doing watching Gladiatorial Combat? You're supposed to be at the nursery! Learning how to… judging by your alt mode, mine by some soulless teacher before being thrown into this pit of misery.

“Are you not a little too young to watch such violence, little one? Where are your caretakers?” He asks, lowering himself better to look at you optic-to-optic, his faceplates turned into a mix of curiosity, concern and care.

“More importantly, what are you doing in the mining sector?” The gladiator tilts his helm in intrigue.

His question clearly catches you off-guard and you look at him surprised. As if there was something he didn't know happening.

“Eh… you- you don't know?” You ask, not really sure how to spill it to him. Since he was rather popular, you thought he would know the new mining policy changes.

“Know what?” He raises an optical ridge in curiosity, he keeps the aggression in his tone to a minimum even if he was getting impatient, continuing to squat down to your level in order to converse with you. Clearly, the gladiator isn't used to talking to sparklings.

“Well,” You think for a moment on how to explain this, trying to recall the explanation that supervisor bot told you. “The Senate said that they're low on energon so they said that they're going to take us out of nurseries much earlier!”

You have a smile on your face as you say this and Megatronus’ azure optics widen in shock. “Tomorrow is my first day! I hope it goes well.

The blind, innocent naivety in your big blue optics and precious little smile makes his spark ache— you have no idea what's coming for you. At all. Your smile drops a bit when you see the disgust, anger and shock in his optics. How could they be so cruel? To condemn such helpless little things to the Pits before they even know what the world around them is like. This wasn't even cruel, it was evil, vile. And the worst part is, your young little processor can't seem to realize that. Megatronus is speechless as he rises up, continuing to look down at you in… sympathy? Pity? There's a sadness in his EM field.

“Is… Is everything okay?” You're craning your little help up to look at him, you need to take a step back to see his face and he has the most sympathetic look one could ever muster up for a newly-built in your situation.

“No, no. It's… it's fine.” He snaps out of his train of thought with a sharp ex-vent, looking back at your tiny little frame. And he comes to a daunting conclusion.

There's no way you'll make it in the mines.

Now, Megatronus isn't particularly a kind mech. Not really. He'll help so long as it doesn't inconvenience him in any way. But this? He wasn't a monster. He wasn't evil. He wasn't going to leave a helpless little sparkling in the middle of Kaon (of all places), Cybertron's infamous crime capital. Who knows who else you'll run into? The gladiatorial sponsors? Criminal T-Cog harvesters? Smugglers? Slavers?

“You know, little ones like you will need someone to escort you back to your living space.” Megatronus offers, looking down at you. He remembers when he was sent to the mines, albeit much older than you are now. The idea that you, someone so young will have to endure what he went through at such a fragile age hurts his spark inexplicably.

“Whats a living space?” Megatronus pauses, he looks baffled. Leaning down to face you once more.

“...you don't have a designated living space?”

“No. They just dropped us off here and left.”

He knew The Senate was vile but this— this was ridiculous even for them. The anger bubbling in him is near a boiling point upon hearing your story. One day, little ones like you will get their justice.

Megatronus would assure that.

“Fine. Would you… Like to stay with me in the meanwhile?”

The beaming on your face, the wide smile. It was far too precious to be here, in Kaon. It melts his spark in a way nothing has.

But what the two of you didn't know was that it would become permanent. Your time with Megatronus is something you constantly cherish, you look back at it with bittersweet nostalgia. The fondness of… What was that word Miko used for her masculine parent? Ah, yes. Father. Megatronus was like your own ‘father’ in every sense of the word.

You look back fondly at every single moment you had with Megatronus, no matter how you used to feel about it when those events were the present— how he comforted you after nearly getting terminated in your first cave-in, the way he used a majority of his earnings from gladiatorial combat to pay a medic to repair you, the way he would teach you about literature and poetry… and most importantly, how to defend yourself.

You remember how long you had begged him to teach you how to be a gladiator, so you too, could be a star at the face of a crowd. Just like he was. He taught you the combat part, every fighting style he knew but forbade you from ever entering the arena. You were definitely displeased about that for a long time. You were so young and reckless, he constantly spoke of how he saw himself in you but that only made you feel proud of yourself.

You'd always put Megatronus on a pedestal looking back at it. He was the one that showed you what it meant to be alive, that your life was more than your alt. mode and what the Senate dictates for you— He taught you the idea of his revolution, ingrained it into your processor. But he never let you attend any of the rallies or protests, he didn't want you to get tangled with the brutal law enforcers of Kaon.

Then, the day that ruined it all.

That day, The Senate hearing— Orion Pax, an archivist was given the honor, the title of Prime and the Matrix of Leadership with it. You'd known Orion Pax as a friend of Megatronus’, a polite and timid mech. He'd always speak to you fondly, considering Megatronus took you as his own. But that day, the Megatronus you knew was cracking. Was it envy? Pride? Ego? Arrogance? He believed it was him that was better suited, it ate up his helm and it morphed him into something you couldn't recognize.

You remember. The violence was something you were used to, being raised by a gladiator and often sneaking to see Megatronus’ fights despite his disapproval when you were but a sparkling. However, this was a different sort of violence— Senseless. At first you'd agreed. Only because he, the newly named Megatron, seemed to see violence as the only resort to uproot the current system. And you agreed, and so you served.

Your association with the Decepticons was short lived but that was enough to see his spiral, you couldn't do anything but helplessly watch the mech that taught you about the world begin to tear it down himself. It started off with targeting senators and snowballed into mercilessly killing anyone that disagreed.

“Those who are not with us are against us.” You remember him snarling out before giving the order to shoot down neutral ships after you tried your hardest to dissuade him. Senseless killing. It's what made you realize that the warm concern of Megatronus had been erased by the sweltering hate of Megatron.

And every time you look into his crimson optics, you're reminded of that.

After that whole Optimus losing his memories fiasco, it did nothing more than to serve as a bitter reminder of what all you lost, reopening old wounds painfully. You don't regret joining the Autobots, Optimus made it sure you were welcome— As kind and gentle as always, although no longer the timid Orion. At least some things stay the same.

You continue to stare out into the sky with a blank face, failing to take note of the approaching and concerned Prime. You've been coming up here a lot more often ever since Megatron came to Earth, Optimus has decided it's time to have a chat with you.

The fact that you haven't recognized his presence tells him you're deep in thought, usually the sounds of his pede-steps is enough for you to turn to look at him with a ghost of a smile. You were an… aggressive Autobot to say the least but Optimus never blames you, you were only ever surrounded by violence when growing— The important part is that you try your best to reject it from taking over you, trying to be better than all you've seen.

It isn't until you hear the shifting noises of Optimus taking a seat next to you that you realize he's here, and realize that your optics are glossy with coolant. Your optics shutter with a sharp ex-vent, a quick effort to get the excess coolant away before turning to face him. But before you could really ask him, he started to speak.

“Earth is beautiful.” He says as his optics take in the sight of the night sky. The town of Jasper is still kilometers away, the stars illuminating the sky— Another bittersweet memory of how Megatronus used to teach you about Cybertron’s stars and moons while laying down on your backs at the open airs of Lithium Flats.

“It is.” Your admission is uncharacterically soft. It makes Optimus smile slightly.

“You've been spending a lot of time up here recently, [name].” His voice is soothing, concerned. While he sounds nothing like Megatronus, the concern from Optimus is just as warm and inviting.

“...I like star gazing.” Your tone goes quiet, optics averted from his for a moment. But it's enough for Optimus to know that there's more than meets the eye. But for now, he won't prod.

“I understand. Unfortunately I am not very familiar with the stars of this system but they look, as the humans would say ‘breath taking’.” Optimus replies as he looks back into the sky, the two of you sitting there in a somber silence— an understanding silence. You gently lean your helm against his shoulder plating with a sigh, pressing your knees further against your chassis. He says nothing but knows what to do, his servo gently pats your pauldron, providing you more support as you lean against his shoulder.

“...I miss him. Primus, I miss him.”

Your vocalizer breaks slightly, Optimus takes a deep in-vent and sighs.

“As do I, [name]. As do I.” His tone sounds tired and he is, this war has been chipping away at their sparks and Megatron grows more deranged as the conflict prolongs. But he will not openly display his exhaustion, Optimus had to keep up a strong front.

He sees his old friend, Megatronus within you. Your personality is a spitting image— aggressive but not cruel; kind and empathetic, intolerant to the injustices faced by others and yourself. Optimus looks at you, continuing to provide you comfort, one he can tell you desperately need.

“We have tried, tried our best to bring him back. But,” The Prime speaks almost like it hurts him to say this to you, a gentle night breeze against both your frames. It's chilly, an enjoyable atmosphere if it weren't for the heaviness of the subject.

“He is far gone. Far past saving.”

You know that.

You know that very well.

“I know that but.. that,” The words are stuck in your vocalizer, unable to get them out. “...doesn't mean I like it.”

Optimus knows you're an Autobot and this is proof of it. Autobots value lives, even if it is someone as deranged as Megatron. This doesn't make you any sort of traitor to their faction, even if the others have their doubts when you speak of the young Megatronus with so much reverence or how you call out Ratchet when he gives a biased explanation of the war. But, what concerns Optimus is how you cling onto the ghost of who Megatron once was.

And he fears Megatron may stoop as low as to use it against you.

Optimus continues to understand you and provide you with his warm embrace, the gentleness of his tone never changing.

“I cannot guarantee that it will be better,” He says, almost quietly. “But I want you to remember that your Autobots are always here with you.” The mention of the others makes a small tension in your frame, he can feel the hesitance from your EM field. It makes him look at you curiously.

“They.. don't really think of me as one of them.” You admit what's been on your processor for years. You've always felt like a by-stander, someone they brought in to help. Almost as if you were hired but without any real payment. You cannot connect with them, they weren't raised like you nor do they have any fond experiences with anything associated with the name Megatron.

“Maybe.. I just don't feel like one of them.”

You say, it might be your misinterpretation. Who knows? But it's been like this since you've joined the faction. Optimus looks at you curiously, he's intrigued to understand how your processor works, to see what makes you think this way.

“To me, you are an Autobot.”

“Of course I am to you, Prime but that… isn't quite the same.” You smile a bit at Optimus’ attempt to soothe you as he just blinks.

“You’ve known me since I was about this big.” You raise your servo from your knee and lower it down to show how tall you were as a sparkling. Optimus hums, you had a point there.

Optimus always saw hope in you. You might've been working for Megatron but you were raised by Megatronus. Every single encounter, Prime always tried his best to persuade you into seeing the evil of Megatron’s ways. He knows it would take time, Megatronus was your everything— caretaker, mentor, teacher— father.

But that was Megatronus, not Megatron.

“You were able to reform, redeem yourself. You were able to see that freedom is the right of all sentient beings despite being surrounded by those who think otherwise your entire life.” Optimus says with a serious tone, as if he needs you to understand just how important what you did was— You were proof that Decepticons could be redeemed, that they were not all lost.

You gave Optimus hope.

So to see you so hopeless was unacceptable.

“Yes but that.. that doesn't change what I've done and what I… lost.” Your voice is even quieter than before, as if you're afraid to say it out loud. Remembering what you've done under Megatron, how you helped him. A complicit part of the Decepticon uprising and movement in the early days, you helped propel the movement to please your spiraling father, only to hope it would make him feel somewhat better.

Your love was what blinded you.

But that's not how Prime sees it.

He looks at you confused and curious. Blue optics fixated onto your face as he captures how you seem to sulk with gloom. Optimus doesn't understand why you would think that, you were young and under Megatron’s care— helpless to Megatron’s whims. You would've done what you did one way or another.

“But you are another victim of Megatron.”

You couldn't keep it together anymore when he says what you've been trying to deny, trying to make it seem like it wasn't for so, so very long. You let out quiet sobs as you lean against his servo even harder, your own servos clinging onto it as coolant tears trickle down your faceplates.

Optimus doesn't intervene. The Prime knows you need this, he gently pats your shoulder plating as he allows you to cling onto him like a lifeline, pouring your sorrows and coolant tears onto his plating. He will let you take your sorrows out, he won't say a word unless you need him to.

Optimus had you now. Megatronus was long gone but in his place, you now had Optimus.

Even if it wasn't the same.

bonus:

how you feel when you see Megatron and Optimus fight

[warmcookiepuff]

DUNCE ( childhood friends reunited, except he didn't do it earlier)

-- gn! reader, jason todd, estranged friendship, multiple part series

tw: curse words (many), mentions of death, implied reader having depression but no deep dive, reader has a job, funny at the end

--- ⋆｡°✩°｡⋆ ---

You both used to be friends. Close friends. He used to come by your place when his mom was high, you'd come to his when your dad was fighting with his most recent partner.

It was rough back then, two kids from Crime Alley against the world. But you made it work, you were as happy as you both could be -- before he got adopted by Bruce Wayne and disappeared almost instantly out of your life.

You didn't know how to take it. Him living big and shiny while you... planned your dad's funeral with some distant family members. Drunk driving, he hit a lamp post and it fell over. It didn't hit you hard, you felt he was going to die a death similar. Matter of time.

You also didn't know how to handle his death a few years later. How do you mourn someone who you haven't seen for so long? He hadn't even come to see you, and you didn't want to bother. Jason's death was even more shocking -- confidential to a terrorist attack? He was smart enough to stay away from those areas.

He probably had so many others come over to his grave to leave flowers. But you came anyway, after the service. With a small flower of your own and a chilli dog in the other.

A dandelion, a small nod to your childhood together when he picked some tiny flowers from the moss that grew over damp areas around the alleys you both would skedaddle off to, for you. You left the chilli dog by his grave, wrapped nicely, with the flower laying on top. He was an idiot for not keeping in contact. You cried a little anyway. The last person to know you by heart had died and you were left alone again.

A few years later, you got your diploma in computer engineering and got a job as a cyber security analyst for a well-known tech company. From a crappy apartment, you've upgraded to a decent one a little outside of Gotham City, not too far so you don't miss the stench of cigarettes and the sound of vigilantes fighting in the streets. Just enough to be safe from trouble. That was until you were given a new task at work. It was different from the rest, your boss gave more serious undertones in his emails. Freaks you out a little bit. Alas, you work from home, trouble arrives nowhere near where you live. Perhaps, it would be better to be a little naive.

That was, until, the strangest thing happened.

"Quit your job. I'm serious, (Name)," His voice was stern and strong, his posture intimidating. He stands before you with all his gear; guns in holsters, fists with brass under his gloves. Red Hood stands in the middle of your living room, watching you freak under his stare.

"Fuck no. What?!" You yelled, gripping onto your frying pan like it was going to help you dodge any of his bullets. "You're in my house! I'm not even close to your area?!"

"What're you even doing here-- How'd you know my name--," Your nervous rambling was cut off by him holding the top of the frying pan and pushing it away. He's mindful not to take it from you, but not too mindful about keeping a respectful distance.

You were going to piss yourself.

"(Name), you're digging too deep in spaces you don't wanna find yourself in. You need to leave your job and lay low. It's not safe," He says, quietly this time. Much softer. He was reasoning with you, begging even. Like he cared.

You knew Red Hood wasn't cruel to innocent civilians, but when he shows up, it's never a good sign. He's the one people call to eradicate someone from the face of the earth, he started his career strong by beheading 8 men and carrying their heads around in a bowling bag.

You looked at him in the eyes -- or where they should be behind his mask, took a deep breath and relaxed your grip on the frying pan.

"Why should I trust you?" You asked him, your tone serious and unsure. He hesitates for a bit before standing up straight. The vigilante stares at you for a solid second, your bravery falters for a moment. "Don't freak out," He asks. You want to argue but he takes his mask off.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Stay still," You ask him.

[threegoldfish]

Whether a doctor would be better if he were to push Marc to take medication, to make him see that Steven isn't real - isn't his own living being - might be open to one's personal opinion; If someone were to tell Marc about this, the fact that a doctor would be considered better if he were to push him in those ways, he'd be very much against it, certainly.

Because he feels seen right now, acknowledged, his feelings taken instead of being dismissed. Of course he knows, somewhere inside himself, that Steven is part of himself - he doesn't believe in the whole thing of being possessed or whatever, definitely not, and he has seen some movies were people have split personalities, all of that. But it just doesn't feel this way to him, not at all; Steven does not feel like he is part of him, he feels like he has somehow found his way into this body and lives alongside Marc, just sharing the same parents, the same upbringing, the same... everything.

Some might call that whole thing a brother-situation then, for obvious reasons, but.. no, Steven's not a brother to Marc, not at all. Randall was his brother, not Steven; He's just another person. It even goes as far as Marc being able to recognize that Steven's existing within the same body whenever he has it, but at the same time he doesn't see himself when he's watching, when he looks at the other living his boring happy life.

---A deep inhale of air, a slow, measured exhale right after. It's so hard to talk about it, all of this, but feels so relieving to know that Harrow isn't openly seeing him as insane in return (whatever he thinks about Marc internally? No idea.). In fact, the doctor is surprisingly open - even acknowledges the closeness that Marc feels for Steven, how much he cares, how badly he wants him to be okay and alright; God, he hopes that Harrow isn't just playing a game here, trying to lure Marc in just to... try and strip it all away from him.

Gaze back on the other man, jaw working a bit, Marc... nods. Once. Twice. Then swallows, takes another inhale, sits more upright. He takes the last sip of iced tea from that squished bottle, then puts it back onto the desk in front of himself, palms now flat on top of his thighs as his gaze trails - thoughtful, again, moved and deeply affected by everything.

"...I think you're right." A small mumble, but loud enough to be heard with how damn silent it is inside this white, sterile office. "He... he should know, at some point. It's... not fair, right? To... leave him in the dark about things for such a long time. He did already wake up in here, and it freaked him out; He thinks he did something wrong, that his sleep-walking is making things bad, but... it's been me, the whole time it's been me who fucked things up - and he's here because of me. Because of what I did..."

A pause, a swallow, dark eyes back on Harrow; A sudden realization causing him to blink, a hint of dread washing over his features---

Steven had managed to slip into the body without him knowing, which didn't happen before. Okay, alright. But... but Marc doesn't remember killing that one guy, right? Doesn't remember having hurt the others as well. Just as he doesn't remember Steven waking and talking to Harrow...

No. No, it wasn't--- it couldn't have been---

"...I don't remember what I did. I don't remember Steven waking up in here." Panicked, suddenly, Marc swallows again and inhales, then exhales in what is a purposeful take of breath to keep himself calm. Don't freak out, don't freak out, it's fine, this wasn't Steven!

"Do you... do you think that Steven... --No, no, it wasn't Steven. Steven wouldn't hurt a fly. Steven hates violence. Steven never defends himself and prefers to give in instead. He catches spiders and makes sure to not accidentally step on bugs whenever he's got enough attention left to do so. He would never--- no, he doesn't have it in him to... to---" Fuck. "...Right? No, he doesn't have it in him. He would never do that. Steven would never hurt someone like this and he would never kill anyone!"

A series of blinks in rapid succession, with Marc bringing a hand up to rub his fingers along his lips, thinking, brows knitting, eyes wide as he realizes that, maybe---

"...No, it must've been me. I'm sure it was me. I just... m-maybe I've got... some other stuff going on that prevents me from remembering. People can suffer from amnesia, right, after doing things sometimes? Y-yeah, yeah, I'm--- I know it wasn't him, it must've been me. There's no other way, no. No, there isn't---"

It wasn't his first blackout. But... but the ones before must've been coincidences...!

"...Yeah, it must've been me. I... killed a guy. I'm just not remembering. Amnesia, that kind of stuff? Yeah."

It feels a lot easier to just accept it than to allow a different possibility to rise up, one that makes him feel as if the room is freezing suddenly. So he pushes that away, out of his mind, doesn't even allow the thought to form.

Arthur found himself struggling to find words, for only a second. It was a surprising amount of intimacy for an internal relationship; Marc crying as if Steven were a real person, worrying over upsetting Steven. Factually, there was nothing to worry about - Steven was created by Marc, and to some extent, Marc had control over that. They were the same being, the same soul, only divided. 

But it wouldn’t be right to say that; because Marc chosen to believe that Steven was real. And even if facts spoke opposite, Arthur had always been more lenient when it came to the spiritual side of things; Marc believed Steven was real. Steven believed that he was real. What more was needed, for a person to qualify as existing? 

It would be wrong to dismiss anything that Marc was saying. Every word was spoken with an aching amount of care, and that was more than enough. 

“You didn’t take anything from him,” Arthur answered, gently, meeting Marc’s gaze. “You gave him a life. I can… understand why you think that everything he owns is fake, but I don’t think that’s fair to say. His memory is as real as yours, isn’t it? Memory, language, emotions - all of these things are real, regardless of their lack of physical presence. If he remembers waking up, drinking tea, reading a book, laughing - then all of that happened.” 

He narrowed his eyes only a bit, for a fraction of a moment, as if trying to read something on Marc. “It was real because he lived it. That’s what memory is, that’s what life is. And you made sure he got that. You gave him a life that would make him happy - that’s not deception. It’s devotion. It’s care.” 

He stayed there for a moment, before leaning back, sitting a bit more properly in his seat. “He’s going to learn the truth eventually. That’s something you can’t keep hidden forever - no matter how badly you want to. The change will frighten him, sure. He might get emotional - he might get upset with you. He might be hurt, for a little while. But when he looks back on his memories - even if they’re ones you created - he’ll always have that knowledge with him. That you created them. That you wanted him to be happy, that you loved him enough to want him to have that.” 

He paused, keeping Marc’s gaze, nodding gently. “And yes, I think he’ll forgive you. Not because he has to, but because that’s who he is. I think he cares, too - even if he doesn’t fully understand everything, yet.” 

Talking so much made his jaw buzz, in a way he didn’t like; it was rare for him to speak too much, but something about the moment had him feeling moved. There was an emotional care here, one he knew he needed to cut before it got anywhere unsafe - but for the moment, he could be here for this. Could allow Steven to exist, despite the fact that he ultimately did more harm than good; a better doctor would be pushing for Marc to be taking medication.  A better doctor would make it clear that Steven couldn't exist.

He could be a better doctor tomorrow, when he wasn’t still weighed down by the emotional burden of everything.