#it had all of the endless in it with nice bits of descriptions in it

[strawbeerossi]

August - Prologue

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: You look back on the way that you bonded with Spencer over the course of the time you've known him. After one night spent between you both, you tell the girls that you want to ask Spencer to Rossi's wedding. Too bad JJ had other plans.

Content/Warnings: Spoilers for 14x15, unrequited love, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, JJ is a horrible friend (I’m so sorry), general heartbreak.

WC: 2.4K

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🏷️ @sadroses98

Spencer’s love life was a trainwreck. Everyone knew that after the Maeve debacle, dating wasn’t something that he was concerned with. He saw the horrible things that could happen to significant others of the BAU members. Haley dying, Jack being targeted, and Savannah being shot were things he’d seen first hand and he wasn’t eager to have a loved one go through any of it. He’d never forgive himself.

JJ was always special, in his eyes. Even whenever they were both young on the field together, he always pined after her. She was beautiful, funny, and she didn’t always look so bothered to talk to him. Of course, their failed attempt at a date to the Redskins game was just an indication that he should admire from afar. Besides, he’d like to have her in his life regardless. 

He maintained a healthy friendship with JJ over all fourteen years that he worked with the BAU, the woman being by his side even whenever he didn’t deserve it. It was something he wouldn’t trade for the world. He appreciated her, loving her so much that his heart swelled every time she came near him. He buried all those feelings deep in his heart, keeping quiet on the subject. It wasn’t the healthiest way to handle unspoken feelings but it was the easiest. Work would be awkward, plus she didn’t seem romantically interested. Best not to push.

Whenever you joined the BAU, you were blissfully unaware of Spencer’s feelings toward JJ, instead meeting a version of him that was so dedicated to bottling up those feelings. He was a bit standoffish with you at first, which you didn’t take personally. You’d heard of the endless trauma he’d been through and you felt like you had to work overtime to gain his trust.The problem was, you did damn near everything and it was like it wasn’t working.

You learned how he liked his coffee and brought him a cup every morning, you asked for facts about zany topics, you even mentioned Doctor Who in an effort to reach out to him. It was like he didn’t even want to look in your direction.

You managed to chip away at him over the next few months, getting him to laugh in certain circumstances or even having him greet you in the mornings. It was something that you had to work for but it was all worth it in the end whenever he’d gotten fully comfortable with you. He learned that he enjoyed talking to you, having you around.

The both of you had grown quite close to the point where every Friday that you weren’t on a case was spent having a movie night. He’d even taught you how to sew a scarf after too much trial and error. All the time you spent together was causing you to fall deeper in love with the lovable genius with each interaction. Every silly complaint about a show not being true to science, his rambles on topics that interested him, even when you two would get into arguments. 

It was no surprise that you’d fallen so fast. You wore your heart on your sleeve, yearning for a deep connection that nobody else could take away. Spencer was your person, you could feel it. There were daydreams of having a nice home with a big backyard for your kids, Spencer teaching them magic tricks or helping them excel in their academics. 

It was a Saturday night after a successful case that the team went out drinking together to celebrate. You may have let Penelope and Emily influence you into drinking your body weight in whatever liquor was put in front of you. Spencer hardly drank, however he allowed himself to have a few drinks, his tolerance being so low that he could feel a buzz after just one. 

You were too far gone to remember the events of the night but you did know that you and Spencer left together. The night was spent with drunken sex and whatever else you two got up to within the span of seven hours. You both woke up the next morning and it was still okay. There was no sneaking out when someone was sleeping, no forcing them out. You two actually spent a good portion of the morning together. The only issue? You got more attached. It was like you associated the sex with mutual feelings, the dream of actually finding someone to settle with. 

You’d gotten so caught up with the fantasy that you just had to tell the girls at work during one of your morning gossip sessions.

“I don’t know, I just feel like this could be the start of something great. I really do like him, he means the world to me. I just wish that I could say it.” You admitted, leaning against Penelope’s desk while sipping from your coffee mug. 

“Well, I say just go for it! Our genius needs to settle down.” Penelope encouraged, her eyes widening with excitement. “You two can have babies! I don’t think we could ever have enough BAU babies.” She gushed. 

JJ was laughing softly from her spot in the room at her friend’s excitement. “I mean, the worst he could really do is say no. No harm in trying to ask, right?” The blonde let her shoulders bounce. In a way, she could feel a pang of jealousy in her chest. You and Spencer? That didn’t seem right at all.

“He won’t say no! I am convinced he loves you! I mean, you always brighten his day.” Penelope was piling on encouragement, pushing you to take the bull by the horns and just get yourself out there, to put your feelings first.”Plus, you can invite him to Rossi’s wedding!”

It was safe to say that it was working. You felt a wave of confidence rush over you, taking it with stride. JJ had a point, Spencer wouldn’t be rude about turning you down. The pain would still be there in the event he did but at least he wouldn’t be cruel, right? 

“I’m gonna go talk to him about it. It’s a paperwork day, so it’ll be quiet.” Plus, she could just delve into files that needed to be filed away if he did let her down gently. It was the perfect plan!

You were planning on talking to him later in the afternoon, just enough time to give yourself a pep talk. However, Emily and Penelope killed that idea with a snap of a finger as a case had come up. It came with the territory of your job – make plans and have them destroyed by some loser who decided to massacre multiple people for the fun of it.

***

The case had taken a turn for the worse whenever JJ and Spencer were hot on the unsub’s trail, being locked inside a bank with no way to contact the outside world. The only thing anyone had was shitty footage from the security camera inside with no audio to accompany it. All you could do was assume what was happening as you stared at the screen, Emily beside you as she was talking to Penelope about getting anything if they could.

Their body language said it all though, the way that JJ seemed tense and the way Spencer had a look of… Relief? You didn’t know what was happening in the slightest but it was like you could feel your stomach churn, your heart slowly cracking. 

You didn’t want to assume it was anything too crazy, you didn’t need to worry. You were being silly. Once there were shots inside, everyone was rushing to the back door of the building to get inside. You were frozen in place, eyes focused on the room now filled with agents and cops. 

The sound of everyone talking was muffled, your mind somewhere else as you were slowly turning to the screen before approaching the two agents when they were coming out of the building. “Are you two okay?!” She asked quickly, a shaky edge to her voice as she was bringing a hand to her face. “This job stresses me out,” 

There was lighthearted, yet awkward laughter as you were eventually heading back to the SUVs. 

There was a tension hanging in the air any time that Spencer and JJ were together, the two barely sharing glances as the rest of the team were rejoicing and ending the case and preventing losing innocent people as well as potentially losing two of their best agents.

There was something wrong but you weren’t going to say anything.

Clearly something personal happened in the moment they were forced to play along with whatever the unsub wanted from them. You were curious but you didn’t want to bring it up, maybe out of fear of hearing something that you don't wanna hear. 

You didn’t ask Spencer to be your date to Dave’s wedding, instead going on your own.

The whole environment there made you sad. You were thrilled for Dave and Krystall but it was an atmosphere oozing with love while you were alone, the man you wanted to ask being weird and not speaking to you the way he usually did. There was a lot you wondered about. 

Did you do something wrong? Was he angry at you? More questions echoed in your mind, feeling defeated on how such a good relationship has fizzled out to nothing. 

You were brought out of your thoughts whenever Penelope was passing out whatever concoction of drink she came up with. “Here you go, sour puss.” The blonde spoke while placing the mixed drink in front of you at the bar, you offering a small smile in response. 

“It’s a good day, don’t be sad in the corner all night.” Luke added soon after while you were waving it off. He didn’t know the extent of why you felt the way you did. He just knew that you had been in a funk for days, not being your usual self.

“I’m not sad. I’m just.. I’m not really in the mood.” It was honest, however you knew that you had to show up for Dave, he was family. You would’ve done the same for anyone else in the team for whatever event. 

In the midst of your denial, your gaze had fallen on Spencer and JJ, the two talking together at a table farther from the rest of you. It could’ve been some deep, poorly concealed anger that had you putting the cup down and walking over to the two who seemed to be having a great time together. You were falling apart and it was like he wasn’t even paying attention. It stung. 

“Spencer! JJ!” You announced your presence with a smile, your hands clasping together. “I didn’t get to come talk to you guys earlier. I wanted to say hi.” You began. “Also, why are you two isolated from the team?! Come on!” 

What felt like a knife to your chest was the way Spencer looked at you with a lack of interest, almost as if your presence was bothersome. “Oh, we were just talking. We are fine, we will catch up later.” The male answered, hoping the answer was good enough to be left alone again.

That was the moment you broke.

“What the hell have I done to you? You’ve been dodging my calls and texts for days and you barely talk to me anymore. What is your deal?” In an attempt to not ruin the beautiful ceremony, you were keeping a calm demeanor. Even if you could feel the cracks in the facade. 

“What? Nothing! You’re acting like a child. I’m just having a conversation.” Spencer frowned, his attention finally on you for the first time in days. “You act like we talk every minute of the day.”

“Because we normally do! Come on, Spencer. Just talk to me.” You were begging for a minute of his time, an explanation. For days you’d questioned every interaction and every word said. You thought your relationship was stronger than that.

“I am talking to you. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.” 

JJ looked visibly uncomfortable with the whole interaction, so that’s whenever you were turning your attention to her. “And you, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days and you don’t give me the time of day. What is happening? Do you both have a problem with me?”

“Look-” 

“No! She has a point, Spencer. I’ll be honest with her.” JJ finally found her voice, although the nervousness was gone now, instead just taking the situation for what it is. “I’m sorry,” The words made your knees weak. 

You knew what was coming. 

“The other day, the key to us getting out of there and preventing any injuries, I played truth or dare. Which, I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t a childish game in the slightest.” She said slowly while you watched her in disbelief.

“Anyway, I was told to give a secret that I’d never tell anyone else. Something I’d take to the grave and-” 

“You told Spencer that you loved him.” You finished, throat tight as you were restraining the urge to either sob or scream at the blonde. “It’s just funny that this all came out after I told you what I wanted to do. You never showed him the time of day before.” 

“I don’t think you pay enough attention. Spencer has always been my best friend and we spend time together alone quite frequently. Just because you had sex one time doesn’t mean that you both were in an unspoken relationship.” JJ responded, having the audacity to act as if she didn’t break girl code to the highest degree. 

There were a few moments of silence, every intrusive thought bouncing through your mind. Your gaze was briefly turning to David and Krystall, seeing the two happily talking with guests before you were tuning your head to the pair in front of you. 

You reached over for the glass of water that one of them ended up putting down, hand clutching the glass before you made the wise decision of throwing water in their direction, the glass emptying on the both of them before the same glass was being placed down on the table. 

Without a word, you turned on your heels so you could walk away from the two. The reception was over for you, no feeling of celebration. You leaving with tears brimming your eyes caught the attention of the small group of agents, the group now turning their heads briefly to look at Spencer and JJ.

“Oh no..” Penelope frowned, the normally bubbly blonde turning to Tara, Luke and Matt.

“Something tells me that JJ and Spencer are talking..”

[xeeljii]

STEP ON ME

You're free to have everything you can see All that you want from me

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

Summary: You meet a beautiful stranger on a night out and find yourself in his apartment where the night seems to be filled with endless possibilities

Word count: 5.2k

CW: 18+, f! reader, meet-cute /j, alcohol, dry humping, masturbation, no specific body descriptions.

This is a prequel to SHE'S MY COLLAR but can be read as stand alone, you don't need context but you can check that afterwards.

The night had started at some dimly lit bar for cheap shots and was now ending at some exclusive event one of your friends had been invited to. As soon as you walk in your whole group disperses but you are happy enough to dance on your own. The music fills you with energy, you down shots like it is water and dance wildly without a care of who is watching. Unbeknownst to you out of the corner of his eye you catch Joost’s attention, you are pretty in a way that makes it hard not to stare and he doesn’t want to be a creep but he notices you seem to be on your own and he is not a fool either so decides to try his luck tonight. He lets the magnetic pull of your presence bring him closer to you, he finds himself a couple steps from you, ready to ask if he can buy you a drink, rehearsed line on his mouth as he closes in the distance. But all of a sudden a song you seem to really love comes on and you throw your arms high up in the air as you take a step back, and without meaning to you bump into his chest spilling a little bit of your drink down his shirt. You turn around startled only to be met with the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen.

“Sorry.” you both blurt out at the same time before breaking into laughter. 

The stranger before you is tall and pretty dimples adorn his face as he smiles down at you, he bends down to speak right in your ear so you will hear him better over the loud music. “My name’s Joost”. 

“Joost” You reply back, the name feels beautiful in your mouth and it sounds heavenly to his ears coming from you, you give him your name and he also tries rolling it out on his tongue, tasting it in his mouth. 

You stay standing on the dance floor without saying anything just holding each others' gazes, electricity filling the small space between the two of you without moving, neither of you wanting to break the spell. 

“Let me buy you another drink, since my shirt got in your way.” He speaks again pointing at the now half empty glass in your hand. 

You snort muttering again a little sorry before looking up at him again. “Sure, thanks.” You say leading the way to the bar counter. 

Between drinks and dancing you learn he is a musician, that he is here for a release party or an album recording or something of the sort, he is from the Netherlands and he has the cutest smile you have seen. He is fun to be with, he smells heavenly, he is a great dancer and he can’t take his eyes off you either. You dance for hours, down shots together and then start pushing them into each others mouths happily, you laugh until your cheeks hurt and the sound of his laughter is resounding in your ears. His hands keep lingering on the small of your back as you dance and yours keep running up to his nape, holding on his strong arms, and playing with the long strands of hair at the back of his head. You feel yourself lost to the concept of time as you stare into his pretty blue eyes. Deep into the night or the early morning, you have no idea what time it is, you hear his voice whisper dangerously close to your ear sending a nice wave of chills down your spine.

“Do you wanna come over to my place?” He says it without malice or bad intentions behind it,  or perhaps any intentions, he just can’t bear the thought of ending this so soon and never seeing you again.

You grab hold of his hand and look up. “Lead the way.”

He leads you through dark empty streets illuminated only by street lamps as you keep chattering away about anything and everything. He tells you about his travels, the places he has visited, the ones he enjoyed the most, you tell him about yourself, your friends and job he seems genuinely interested, asks little questions here and there so you will clarify the specifics, it makes your heart beat in excitement. You don’t know what you want or expect from this night but if it includes him it is guaranteed to be a delight either way. 

Half way through you start lagging behind, your feet are tired, your dress feels too tight, too short, and the amount of drinks you had is making you wobbly. “Are we still long from there?” You ask a little concerned. He looks back at you still holding your hand.

“Not much.” He replies, he sees your worried little face.

He takes a step towards you, lets go of your hand, shucks his jacket off quickly, and ties it around your waist without a word. You can’t quite understand what is going on then you see him turn around and go on one knee in front of you.

With his back towards you he speaks over his shoulder with a sweet grin. “Hop on, your ride is here.”

You break into laughter that makes you double over, it takes you a bit to compose yourself before you start climbing on his back. When he feels your arms secure around his shoulders he grabs at the back of your thighs with his strong hands and pulls you closer standing up. Your tight dress rides high, you are thankful for the jacket protecting your lower half from the cold wind night, you press yourself even closer to him greedily chasing after his body heat. You feel the warm expanses of the muscle on his back, feel the grip of his hand on your thighs, it is all too much, it make you want to dissolve into him. 

He starts walking, treats you as if you are weightless. He is saying something about this one trip he took to Japan you can’t quiet be sure, you feel his soft scent so deeply that you can barely register that words are coming out of his mouth, it is such a delicious comforting smell like aftershave and tobacco rolled into one but somehow sweeter, you can’t stop yourself in your intoxicated mind you pull closer to the neckline of his shirt and sniff lightly. He feels it as it tickles his skin, he giggles then asks bemused. 

“Did you just sniff me?”

You pull yourself away quickly pushing your hands against his shoulders to create some distance. “No I didn’t.” You say almost too loud, no confidence in your answer. You almost fall backwards from how hard you pushed but he holds tightly at your legs.

“Wow, easy there.” He giggles not even bothering to pretend he believed you. “Well do I smell good?” If you could see how widely he is smiling you would be mortified, completely caught red handed. 

“Agh! Please let me off the hook for this one, I’m drunk” You whine dropping your head in the crook of his neck and resting your forehead on his shoulder completely defeated. 

“Okay, okay.” he says laughing still.

After a few more minutes announces. “We are here.” 

He softly puts you down on the ground while he looks for his keys on his jean pockets, you untie his jacket from your waist and put it over your shoulders, fix your dress back in place, the cold of the night bitting at your exposed skin making you tremble slightly. When he turns around and sees you wrapped yourself in his far too big jacket, your hair flying all around you wildly with the wind and your cheeks kissed red by the cold of the night, he thinks he is in love. You are a heavenly sight, he must have gotten drunk and fallen somewhere, hit his head so hard he died and now there is an angel right in front of him. He wants to warm you up by kissing everywhere but he settles for reaching his palm out to you so you will follow him.

You make your way up the stairs to his apartment quickly as you hold hands. It is a nice studio, it is a little messy, way more cans of Monster than should be advisable but you live off coffee half the time so you are in no position to judge.

“Sorry for the mess.” He says sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, you shake your head and smile up at him.

“You should see mine.” And he would like that, he really would. 

But right now he has you here and when he turns on a few lamps the warm light illuminates you more beautifully than before, the dimness of the club made your alluring features no justice, he feels his heart beat rapidly in his chest. You take his jacket off and put it on the hanger before walking up to him. Your face still has a nice rosy tint, the dress fits you beautifully but he can see goosebumps in your arms.

“Do you want me to get you something to change into?” He says as he is caressing softly at your exposed skin in a small attempt to warm you up, you nod.

He goes into the bedroom and you follow right behind,  he grabs one of his shirts and a pair of boxers and hands them to you, you hold the clothes close to your chest. The air is filled with tension and you are holding heavy eye contact, neither of you wanting to look away. After a long pause he finally speaks again.

“I’ll wait outside.” His voice sounds labored and deeper almost dripping with need.

You want to tell him to stay, that he can watch but you haven’t even kissed yet and it feels like a little too much, so you just nod silently before turning around. 

In the couch of the living room he takes a seat, he wants to take a peak but he is not a pervert so he starts smoking anxiously to calm himself. He turns on the thermostat and raises it a couple degrees to warm you up faster. Inside his bedroom you take off your clothes quickly and change into his, it feels nice, the fabric is soft and worn out, it smells like him it makes you feel like you are fully wrapped in his presence, it makes you tingle.

You walk out into the living room again, you see him splayed on the couch smoking and exhaling out of window he cracked open just a little bit. You go to sit next to him. 

“It is a nice place.” You say looking around.

“Thanks, I didn’t decorate anything. I’m just renting it for a bit.”

You break into a giggle, he loves that sound. “Well there goes my compliment, no matter. You should see me sober I’m much more charming, trust me.” You wink up at him his cheeks heat up instantly.

He looks at you stunned, you look even more beautiful in his baggy clothes, like you belong here, like this is normal, like you are his. The idea excites him terribly.

“Do you smoke?” He asks, you reach out a hand and take the cigarette from between his fingers.

“Only when I drink.” You put the cigarette between your lips and inhale lightly, you don’t really like smoking but right here, right now, you just want to have it inside your mouth as it was just between his lips.

The taste is stronger than you expect and it has you coughing up embarrassingly. He takes the cigarette away from you and goes to rub soothing circles at your back which would be sweet if he wasn’t also laughing so hard right in your face. Your eyes water and you try to hit lightly at his chest. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” The words come out garbled and hard in between little coughs as you try to compose yourself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He says still in between laughter, his palm is so big and warm, you can feel it through the thin material of the fabric, he continues rubbing calmly until you can breath normally again. With his other hand he wipes the stray tears away from your face. “So I'm guessing you don’t drink often.” He says big smile in his face.

“Oh please leave me alone.” You roll your eyes at him still a little embarrassed, you cover your red face with your hands, but he pulls them away before speaking. 

“Come here.” Joost grabs at your chin gently pulling you closer. He takes a long deep drag of the cigarette, lets it fill his lungs, he gently puts pressure on your jaw with his fingers so you will open your mouth and you do. He is half a breath away from your mouth, you can feels his heat, his lips fall open slightly and he pushes the smoke into your mouth softly, slowly, you can feel his lips ghost over yours. You inhale, so relaxed under his touch, it feels so good, you want to close your eyes and melt into his hand right now but you also want to stare at his beautiful face, the way his eyes seem impossibly blue and the alluring almost white eyelashes that adorn them, all made more enticing by the small cloud of smoke that covers both of you. 

Up close you see the beauty mark right under his lip, it decorates his face perfectly, you become hyper focused on it and before you can stop yourself you are crashing lips first right into it. You place a soft peck on it, he feels his heart stop then you move upwards to actually reach his lips. He feels perfect, he tastes perfect, it is better than you could have imagined.

You chase after his touch, he moves his hand to your waist to hold you closer, you feel him breathing in an out, chests almost touching, it is addicting. Your lips move in uncoordinated harmony but it feels so good. The kiss lasts too little before you have to pull away slightly to catch your breath, you see a string of spit connecting your lips it makes you blush even deeper if that is possible, somewhere in the middle of it all you had climbed onto his lap and he had let you. You are looking down at him, stunned with how gorgeous he looks, lips slightly red from the kissings and shiny from your own lipgloss.

He puts the cigarette out on an ashtray nearby, now both his hands are at your waist, thumbs caressing softly waiting on your next move. You go back for more, feeling bolder now seeing the hunger in his eyes that you imagine matches the one in yours. His lips are soft and a little chapped, they taste distantly like Bacardi and something sweet, the cigarette is there for sure but more than anything it taste like him. You chase after it, push your tongue in his mouth desperate for it, he is just as far gone as you sucks lightly at the wet muscle and you moan in response, his hands go to the small of your back and then to your ass to pull you closer, he feels the fat there so delicious under his fingers when he kneads his hands into the soft muscle. You mewl into his mouth, this feels so fast and like time has stopped. 

You keep kissing, moaning into each others mouths, sucking at each others tongues in reckless abandon. Your hips started humping against his at some point, you feel heat building up in your core and keep chasing after it with soft little movements, he smiles against your kiss, feels your teeth knock together. You are so drunk,  he wonders if you would be embarrassed to know what you are up to, he is now almost lying against the side of the couch, it digs on his back uncomfortably but he can’t be bothered by it when he has such a beautiful woman losing herself on top of him.

He grabs harder at your ass and pulls you up towards his stomach so you will stop torturing him a little with your grinding right on his uncomfortably hard cock. Your little whimpers sound so delicious, you are so lost on it, you keep kissing at his lips at his jaw down towards his neck, feeling his pulse right under your tongue. He keeps moving your head to reach your lips, seems to be wanting to eat you alive, you open your eyes and you see his pretty face full of desire, full of need, for you. There is a hunger inside you rapidly growing and soon it has you feeling famished. He can feel you trashing against the planes of  his stomach looking for more friction, he can’t really tell if you are unaware or so unashamed in your state that you can’t stop yourself. But you are so desperate for him and he feels like a boiling pot about to explode so he uses the last of his self restrain to tell you, almost beg you.

“Have some mercy on me schat, you are driving me crazy.”

His deep voice brings you back to reality, you feel your soul enter your body again for a second  and realize your hips are pathetically grinding against his soft belly, your face goes up in flames but you are so needy so hungry you don’t want to stop at all, the thought of it terrifies you. With your hands rested on his chest you uselessly try to pull him closer by his shirt and fail, but maybe your pretty mouth can get you what you so desire. 

“Joost please… I need you.” Your voice is so airy full of want, he can’t ever imagine saying no to you much less when you look so beautiful, in the couch of his living room, wearing his clothes. He nods dumbly before speaking. 

“Ok liefde.” He whispers back against your mouth.

He moves you swiftly placing your core right on the muscle of his thigh and planting his foot heavily against the hardwood floor so you will feel more of his tightened muscle. You knew deep within yourself, somewhere in your brain that he wanted you, that it is why he brought you back to his place, you expected to have a fun memory at most but didn’t realize he wanted you this much to let you do with him as you pleased, to get yourself off using his body.

You rub yourself against his thigh exploratory at first but then bolder, more vigorously, you are so wet, you wonder if you will stain his jeans, the delicious friction of the fabric on your cunt helping you get damper, more needy, he feels how hot you are through the fabric, wishes he could feel it directly on his skin, the throbbing of your cunt right on the muscle of his thigh as you make a mess of him. He is grabbing at your ass kneading softly and kissing at the column of your throat while you work yourself freely on his thigh, he is leaving big open mouthed kisses on trail until he reaches your mouth, you are so preoccupied chasing your high you can barley kiss back but it is okay, he does all the work for you softly exploring your mouth feeling your sweet wet tongue on his, the way your hips stutter when he sucks on it, how your hands hold tighter on his shoulders when he pushes his tongue deep into your mouth. 

He is painfully hard under you, but doesn’t mind as he keeps his eyes trained on your beautiful face breaking out in pleasure. You feel yourself coming undone far too quick you don’t want this to end, you still want to see how much he fills you up.

“Take me to bed.” You whimper. 

He lifts you with his hands below your ass in a swift motion and does as he is told before his brain can really catch up, he didn't bring you here for this, he doesn’t know why he brought you here really, he just wanted more time, more of you. But you are too drunk, he is also very drunk, but somehow feels more in control, it doesn't feel entirely right. He likes you, honestly, he wants to take you on a proper date if you would let him and he wants to meet you when you are sober, you are so funny and smart like this, he imagines he will be head over heels when he actually gets the version of you who can coordinate all her limbs.

He sits in bed with you on his lap, but then you raise from his warm embrace urgently, you grab at his jeans and unbutton them as you start pulling down, he goes to stop you. 

“I wanna feel you closer.” You explain like this is all supposed to make perfect sense, and it does to him, right now if you told him the moon was made of cheese he would probably belive you.

You sit back on his lap, his jeans rest at his ankles. You start moving again desperate against his body, he rests his hands on your hips helping you chase your orgasm. You keep grinding wildly back and forth on his lap, hands closed into fists at his shoulders holding onto his shirt painfully thigh, you feel the familiar sensation start to bubble inside you as your sensitive bundle of nerves keeps catching on the tip of his clothed erection every time you move. Your moaning is so beautiful, he is so thankful there are no other noises and he can concentrate only on what you sound like as you are coming undone. You feel your climax crush into you rapidly, feel your hole gush and your pussy uselessly clenching against the air.

“Joost!” You scream pulling him closer, he pushes his lips against yours and swallows your sweet sounds with his mouth, he loves it but his neighbors will kill him for it and he doesn’t want anyone interrupting right now.

Your body throws itself back in ecstasy but he catches you while you continue to softly ride your high all over him.

“It is okay baby, I got you, I got you.” He caresses your back, sweetly whispering against your hair, placing soft kisses on your exposed shoulder from where his shirt is too big on you. 

You come down from you high, heavy breathing on top on him, your hips still stuttering softly on his, your head is hanging low forehand pressed on his shoulder, he is holding you in place softly scratching at the tender skin of your nape, you swallow hardly trying to regain a little composure.

That felt so good and yet you want more, if you can only have this night you want everything. Your head feels so heavy, the room is slightly spinning around you, you try to focus your gaze on him, he thinks you look adorable. He is not much better off, his pupils are blown wide, he helps you out, grabs hold of your face delicately letting you rest you head against his palm. You raise your hips slightly, make move to pull the boxers he gave you down your legs, you feel you must have soaked right through them but you can’t care, he watches hypnotized with his breath caught on his throat, he see how wet you are, your pussy lips sticky with cum glistening with the light coming from the window. There is something so erotic about having you cum on his own boxers, he doesn’t think he will ever wash them again.  

You move quickly and far more coordinated than you should with how many drinks you downed and sit right on his erection, melting again on his heat, the warmth wetness of your cunt grinding directly on the tip of his still clothed cock, a loud deep moan escapes him without meaning to, but he doesn’t let you go further. In a quick motion he has you on your back against his mattress, there is a soft thud, he holds himself right above you caging your hands with his, gently but sternly. His face wears an expression between exasperation and love, you want to reach out and touch him so bad but under his strength you can barely move. He shakes his head lightly when he sees you jostling under him, stupidly trying to reach your hips up to his and wrap you legs around him to pull him closer.

“No, we are not doing that.” He says more to himself than to you, trying so hard to stay sane. “I am not gonna fuck you when you are drunk.” He looks for your eyes looking up at him pleading for more, he kisses a little trail from the high of your cheeks until he stumbles on your mouth and steals one last long kiss trying to commit the softness of your tongue to memory. 

Then he raises quickly, leaves you dumbfounded and so lonely in the middle of his bed, you feel weightless and like you can’t move at all at the same time you want to reach for him, pull him back down to your body, you feel so cold without him on top of you. You strain your neck to try to find him in the dark of the room. 

“Come back.” You want to sound sexy, too good to ignore but it comes garbled with the awkward position your head is in.

“Not going anywhere.” You can see him next to you at the side of the bed standing over you looking so fondly at your needy expression. He bends down quickly, kisses at your forehead so sweetly it makes your heart ache. “Give me 10, no 5.” He whispers before he moves far too quick for your eyes to catch, in a second he has crossed the room to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother closing the door you can see faintly the shadow of his body from the back, barely past the threshold of the doorframe. You can’t focus on much, your eyes are foggy, you can barely keep them open, everything is so dark you still feel dizzy but so pent up, one time wasn’t enough at all. 

At first there is a profound silence, you can only hear the blood pumping in your ears and then a small sound escapes the bathroom, it is so faint you fear you might have imagined it. The sound of skin on skin, you stop breathing trying to catch it again. You can see now a faint movement, his hand moving in repetitive motions, up and down. It sounds sleek like he is wet, you wonder if he is using spit or if it is his own precum, that thought makes your clit twitch, to imagine he is so desperate to fuck you but can’t do it, rather doesn’t want to do it when you are so vulnerable makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but all the more needy.

Your hand travels south, finds itself between your thighs, you are still soaked wet, you starts tracing exploratory fingers up and down your slit, you don’t want to make a sound, solely getting off on his sounds. You can hear the smallest whimpers, the softest groans, the drowned curses coming from where he is. You start toying with your clit, you reach your other hand under his shirt that you are wearing and pull it up exposing your chest to the warm air of the apartment, you twist and pull at your nipples hungrily imagining how he would touch you, you scratch lightly with your nails at the sensitive bud and wish he would bite down on you.

“Fuck.” You hear him mumble distantly but it feels like he is right by your side, caging you under his weight, saying it against your ear as he comes deeply inside you. Your reach your second peak using imagination alone, remembering the way he kissed you, his smell on the collar of the shirt he gave you as you inhale deeply, the way his hands held at your hips so tightly, you feel your cunt start twitching as you release whimpering softly his name over and over.

You feel his presence faintly back in the room before you open your eyes, still trying to calm down form your second high, you wonder how much he saw. Your neck is twisted in an awkward angle, your make up must be all smudged and you don’t even want to imagine what your hair looks like but to him you are the most beautiful sight he has ever laid eyes on. 

He brushes your hair away from your pretty face, moves his hand to caress at your cheek and rests his thumb lovingly near your lips, you can’t help yourself and you take it in your mouth sucking lightly, you hope it is the hand he used to get off. You try uselessly to feel his taste on your tongue before he pulls away, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You are really too much.” He says fondly like he is pumped full of love. He takes the last of his clothing as you struggle to keep your eyes open to drink in his beautiful body. 

“You are strange.” You say still feeling like this all was a dream, you smile at him with eyes closed. 

“You have a really pretty smile.” He says as he pulls your, actually his, shirt back down, you break into uncontrollable giggles, something like shame threatening to wash over you for what you just did but his loving eyes keep it at bay. “And a pretty laugh.” He pulls you up so you are resting on the pillows, he gets in after you and pulls the thick comforter over both of your tired bodies. He pulls you so your head is resting on his chest but first steals one last sweet kiss from your lips, you smile against him. “And very pretty lips.” It is the last thing you hear before you fall into heavy rewarding sleep finally melting into the heat of his body.

He hopes you don’t disappear before he wakes up, pulls you tightly against his chest, can’t wait to meet the you in the morning, see if she is embarrassed or if she is just delighted to be on his bed, he falls asleep quickly with the warmth of your body between his arms, hoping with everything he has that it is the second one. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

SEQUEL: SHE'S MY COLLAR ₊˚⊹♡ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ A/N: also if u r one of the day ones maybe you realized this one is also referenced in DOGTOOTH … IT IS ALL CONNECTED!! well not all all but u get it Hehehe anyways I hope you liked it let me know your thoughts! <3 

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“oh sweet, sweet, dark haired man”

A/N: what’s crazy is that this idea came to me because I was watching Iron Man 2 and when Tony Stark is drunk at his birthday party?? I also do not understand the correlation whatsoever, but here we are 🤣 and Mai Tais are no joke lol

~word count: 1k~

Summary: it’s the first night of yours and Joel’s honeymoon, and he’s had a few too many Mai Tais tonight, baby love.

Pairing | pornstar!husband Joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied smut, established relationship, dirty talk, teasing, flirting, language, breeding kink??, Joel forgets you’re his wife in an endearing way, he also wants to pump you full of his babies, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

“Baby loooove.” He hummed into your ear, arms looped around your waist for support in his drunken stupor.

Joel had a few too many Mai Tais the first night of your honeymoon. Combined with hours laying in the sun, endless amounts of delicious food and love making with you, he was in a syrupy sweet, love sick haze.

“Let’s get you back to the room, okay baby?” You had your arm wrapped around his middle, guiding him towards the direction of your private honeymoon suite.

“Can’t feel my legs.” He giggled, burying his face into your neck, steps staggered as you guided him along, “and you smell fuckin’ delicious! Jesus fuckin’ Christ, what perfume are ya wearin’, baby love?”

“That would be the rum talking, baby.” You giggled with him, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. “It’s your favorite perfume, Joel.”

He chuckled, peppering kisses against your exposed neck, leaning further into your supportive hold around him, “Well, ain’t I the luckiest man alive. Where ya takin’ me, pretty girl?”

“To the room, baby. And then we’re gonna get you some water, okay?”

“And you’re coming with me?” He questioned softly.

“Course I am. Gonna get you nice and comfy and we’ll have a good snuggle.” You promised him.

“Oooh! A snuggle with my baby love? Well, now I’m really lucky!” He chuckled. “Man, this place is so beautiful, isn’t it?” He detached his lips from your neck and tilted his chin upwards so he could look up at the millions of stars and the gently swaying palm trees.

“It’s very beautiful, baby.” You agreed.

“Not as beautiful as you, of course. You’re like—the most beautiful person ever, so beautiful that sometimes my brain turns to absolute mush when you’re around me! Isn’t that crazy?” He said with a lopsided grin, eyes barely peeked open as he looked over at you and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

“You wanna hear something just as crazy, baby?” You met his hazy gaze with a soft smile tugging on your lips as you reached your freehand up to brush away a few stray curls from his forehead that were obstructing his view.

“What could be crazier than that, baby love?”

“Sometimes my brain turns to mush when you’re around me too, Joel.”

He gasped in surprise, not believing the words leaving your mouth, “whaaat? No way! That is crazy!” He hiccuped, “‘scuse me baby love, m’ a bit drunk right now. Too many Mai Tais.” He rasped.

“It’s okay, baby. That’s why I’m here. Getting you back to the room safely.” You reassured him.

He nodded, crouching down a little so he could bury his face into your neck once more despite the faint strain in his lower back that he was feeling at this angle. “Baby love, I may be super drunk right now, but imma tell you somethin’, ‘kay?”

“I’m all ears, baby.” You mused.

“One day, and I’m hopin’ it’s soon, m’gonna ask you to be my wife and we’re gonna have lots and lots of babies—if that’s what you want, of course. Hopefully my swimmers are healthy n’such but if not, then there's other options. Hey—why are you gigglin’ over there?” He pouted his lips against your skin, tilting his head back so he could look over at you.

“Baby, my sweet, sweet, dark haired man, I am your wife! We’re on our honeymoon right now, Joel.” You softly reminded him as you held back your giggles as best as you could.

“WHAT? Oh my goodness—you’re my wife? Oh, goodness! I really am that lucky, huh? Wait, lemme see the ring! I better have picked out a good one or so help me—”

“Joel!” You giggled, “those Mai Tais really got to you, huh? You had the ring custom made, baby.” You stopped walking, letting him grab your left hand in his big warm palm and ogle at the dainty rock on your ring finger.

His eyes were dazzling like the stars glimmering above as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed his lips to your fingers and one to the ring. “Very, very, beautiful.” He hummed. “I have good taste, huh?”

“You do, baby. You have wonderful taste and I’m so lucky.” You preened.

“No, no, I am the lucky one here, baby. And tomorrow mornin’ when I wake up hungover, imma treat you sooo fuckin’ well. Breakfast in bed, mine between your thighs, of course. And then I’m gonna feed you my cock—”

You shushed him with a sweet kiss to his lips, “I love you so much, my sweet dark haired man.”

“Mmm.” He hummed against your lips, pulling you in closer, “I love you more, my baby love. Can I pump you full of my babies tomorrow mornin’, please?”

“You’re such a horndog, Mr. Miller.” You giggled against his lips, kissing him deeper, “You can pump me full of your babies, okay? And maybe we’ll get lucky and one of them will stick?”

“Jus’ how you like me, Mrs. Miller. Oh, and one of ‘em will stick. I believe in my trusty little swimmers.” He slowly pulled back from the kiss so he could look at you.

You took all of him in from his messy hair, to his beautiful brown eyes, the flush to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, his swollen lips from your kisses, and his glistening tanned chest peeking out through the opening of his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful, Joel.” You breathed out, and you could feel tears begin to prick in the corner of your eyes.

He sniffled, eyes equally as glassy, and he brought his warm palms to rest along your cheeks, and gently pressed his forehead against yours, “my baby love, if you don’t quit that sweet talkin’, I’m gonna turn into a puddle of waterworks.” He playfully warned you.

“Okay, Mr. drunk sappy pants, let’s get you home.” You pecked his lips one last time before wrapping your arm back around his waist so he could lean into you.

“Lead the way, baby love.” He whispers soft and sweet, drunk on Mai Tais and your love.

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[silent-stories]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: You drank too much at a party and Eddie drives you home.

Warnings: drunk!reader, mentions of drugs, fluff. (I wrote this a bit randomly after months of not writing)

The air was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of teenage hormones, cheap perfume, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol and substances that teenagers should not have possessed. The room buzzed with conversation: half-truths, secrets, whispered confessions and loud laughs.

Colored lights danced across the walls, casting patterns on the faces of the revelers. The stereo blared an eclectic mix of hits, and the speakers threatened to burst from the strain.

Steve Harrington, the unofficial king of Hawkins High, moved through the crowd, laughed, clapped shoulders, and flirted shamelessly. When he tripped on the beer-stained carpet, you thought you weren't the only one who drank too much that night.

But you weren't there for Steve. You were there because your friend had dragged you along, promising a night of freedom and adventure. But now, as the room spun around you, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake as your friend had vanished into the throng, probably swept away by some guy with a charming smile and in a basketball team jacket.

The alcohol had blurred the edges of your consciousness, and you stumbled toward the bathroom. The hallway seemed endless, and you clung to the walls for support, the bathroom door swung open, and you stumbled inside, gasping for air. You leaned against the sink, your stomach churning.

And there, leaning against the opposite wall, was Eddie Munson. His presence was unexpected, like finding a hidden passage in a familiar book.

You knew who he was, hell, all of Hawkins knew who he was.

You had to admit though that the description people gave didn't exactly match the boy who sat behind you in science class. You had talked to him a few times during the boring lesson that you usually spent scribbling on the edges of your notebook: the first time he had told you that he liked your drawings, and you had smiled at him in response. Little did he know that he had given you a reason to return to that class, the week after, and the week after that.

Once you had lent him a pen, another time you had laughed at a sarcastic comment he whispered under his breath.

The times you had a real, even if brief, conversation with him was when you picked up Dustin after Hellfire (his mom had asked you to do this favor for her and you couldn't say no to your neighbor). Sometimes you talked about music, sometimes about how the campaign of that game that seemed too difficult to understand but which interested you anyway went. Or maybe you just really liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dragons and hidden worlds.

His eyes met yours in the reflection in the mirror in front of you, and for a moment, the chaos outside the bathroom ceased to exist.

You felt a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach and you weren't sure if it was from being alone with Eddie or from the alcohol.

He was the last person you expected to see at that party: you knew the rumors going around about him, you knew he wasn't exactly the type to be invited to events like that.

"Hey." He simply said, as if he was the surprised one of the two, taking a step towards you. The chain attached to his jeans jingled, or maybe it was just your ears.

"Hey." You responded in the same way, turning towards him, staggering slightly.

By instinct, he reached forward with one arm as if, if you fell, he would be there to catch you.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He said when he made sure you wouldn't collapse on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah... you can say that." You thought of a nice way to ask your question, but none came to your mind, "What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “They needed a dealer. I needed cash. It’s a match made in hell.”

You nodded, swaying slightly. “Hell...has a great playlis' tonight.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “You’re wasted.”

“Yep,” you agreed. “Los' my friend. Probably making out with some... guy in Steve’s bedroom.”

“You deserve better friends.” He commented.

"Mh-mh."

"You didn't take any of the stuff I brought here, did you?"

"Wha' stuff?"

"Drugs. You didn't take any of that shit, right?" He questioned in a more worried tone, scanning you with his brown eyes for a possible answer written on your face. Why did he care so much? You were already completrly drunk, your night was ruined, your friend left you alone and-

Eddie called your name again.

"Please don't tell me that-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don' like 'em."

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. So he really cared.

He took a step closer when tou closed your eyes for a brief moment, concern etching lines on his forehead. “You need to get home.”

"Yeah... I need a moment to remember where I left my car and-"

“You can't drive like that.”

"Yes I can... I jus' have to-"

A wave of nausea washed over you.

You stumbled toward the toilet, and he followed. Your knees hit the floor as you threw up.

You felt a warm hand touch your neck and you realized that Eddie was holding your hair back, his touch surprisingly gentle. It seemed like he was almost afraid to touch you, as if you might believe he had bad intentions.

You knew Eddie would never try to harm you. You weren't afraid of him.

He handed you a piece of toilet paper to wipe your mouth. His eyes held a mixture of concern and gentleness.

When you flushed the toilet, you realized that Eddie's hand was no longer holding your hair but was slowly moving up and down your back. His touch was gentle.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniffed, your throat burning and your eyes watering. "Thank you."

"Do you trust me to drive you home?" He asked still sitting next to you on the bathroom floor.

"That would... be nice, yeah."

“Alright,” he gave you a little smile and stood up, reaching out a hand and helping you do the same, “m'lady.”

"It could have been worse. I could... have vomited on you." You chuckled, glancing out the window at Eddie behind the wheel.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have liked it." He replied, laughter in his voice.

"It almos' happened once. I was on a date with a guy and... his jacket smelled like shit. You have no idea."

Eddie’s laughter filled the car once again. It was obvious that you had entered the "I say whatever comes into my head" phase of your drunkenness.

"Mine doesn't stink right?"

"Oh no. Yours perfect." You reached out, brushing the leather covering his arm as he drove, “I'm glad I didn't throw up on it.”

Eddie laughed again and god, you were starting to love that sound.

"Can I confess you somethin'?" You asked after a few moments of complete silence.

"All that you want."

“Science's my favorite class.”

"Because you like dissecting animals? And they call me the satanist who sacrifices animals in the w-"

"'Cause you're there too."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Oh."

"Cause you're funny and kind and... you thank me when I lend you a pen. I once lent Jason a pen and never saw it again."

"Yeah, I should start bringing one to school."

"No, please. I like being able to lend you a pen... It's an excuse for me to talk to you."

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it again, saying nothing.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No, absolutely not. I just… I didn't think you liked talking to me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know...people don't usually do that."

"People don't know you."

“You don't know me either, sweetheart.” The nickname didn’t sound flirty; it was affectionate, tinged with sadness. As if he believed that once you truly knew him, you’d no longer want to talk to him.

You wondered how many people had hurt him in the past.

"I'd... like to do it."

"Maybe it's just the alcohol talking. Maybe on Monday you'll pretend I don't even exist at school."

"I would never do that."

"Why?"

"Cause I like you."

Eddie parked his car in front of your house. You had arrived.

“It's definitely the alcohol talking.” He laughed.

You grabbed his hand when he helped you out of the car.

"That's not true! I like you... and you're not like people say and you're sweet and-" As you stumbled toward your house, Eddie instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you. The contact pressed you against his body, and under the soft glow of the streetlights, it felt like a scene from a movie.

“And... have they ever told you that your eyes are really pretty?”

He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what was going on in his head. You thought maybe you said the wrong thing but his gaze was still kind. Always soft.

"A long time ago."

"They were right."

Eddie let one of his arms fall to his side when he made sure you could stand.

"Watch the sidewalk." He said as he walked you to your front door.

It took you a while to find the key, eventually Eddie helped you open the door and turned on the light in the hallway, without setting foot inside your house yet.

You walked to the kitchen, not even thinking about it. Then you turned around.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He chuckled, leaning one arm on the doorframe.

"To do what?"

"I don't know... for a coffee. Somethin'."

Eddie sighed. "Go to bed, okay? Get a good night's sleep and then if you're not feeling good take an aspirin."

You snorted. "Don't you wan' some coffee?"

"I don't want it right now. Maybe one morning we can skip some boring class and go get it somewhere. Together."

You immediately smiled at his proposal. "I'd like that."

He watched you take off your shoes and leave them in the corner of the room.

"Get some rest okay? I'd miss you in science on Monday if you weren't there."

"Really? Then I'll be there."

“I won't bring a pen.”

"So we'll have an excuse to talk."

He smiled "Exactly."

When he closed the door, saying goodnight, you still had a stupid smile on your face. You didn't know if the alcohol was to blame or not.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

[iiseult]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜: 𝒜𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs →  fluff, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, arranged marriage, descriptions of birth (not the reader), blood and mild gore (they don’t call it the dark ages for nothin!), one-sided pining

Wordcount: 5.1k

Note: Remember like three weeks ago when I lied to you all and said I’d have this out in a few days? I had to plan out a bit of the actual plot so that’s what took me so long. But I finally did it, so eat up! Also, I really do NOT know how medieval royal weddings worked but the shallow google searches I made weren’t good enough so let’s all hope this isn’t horribly inaccurate, though I’m sure it is. Do we care, chat?

Every day leading up to the wedding was a day that you saw red. Greeting your traitorous mother in the mornings made you see red, sharing a meal with your power-hungry father made you see red, and listening to the two of them prattle on about how you ought to behave once you were queen? That turned the world absolutely crimson. Each night, you crumpled up and clutched your skirts under the dinner table with shaking fists, creasing them with deep wrinkles that would take days to iron out, but all the while you continued to hold your head high, speaking only when spoken to just as you were taught as a girl. Your strained, thin-lipped smile was only let go of in the privacy of your own bedchambers, when it was replaced with a cold expression and even chillier disposition. Somehow, drifting apart from your family day by day wasn’t as painful as you had imagined it would be. It was easy, really, because there was nothing left for anyone to talk about. After all, your mother had always taught you that if you had nothing nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. However, your sudden “demureness and obedience”, as they put it, did not go unnoticed. 

Your parents were positively delighted with your recent change, or “improvement,” in attitude. Your lady mother congratulated you for finally agreeing to fulfill your societal role as a subservient wife and mother– an aspect of life of which you had previously been a bit resentful– and your father perpetually reminded you how beneficial this marriage would be to the rest of your bloodline. Even your younger brothers seemed excited for you, constantly coming up with new questions to pester you with regarding life as royalty. The only thing keeping you sane was the knowledge that soon you’d be living far, far away from your conniving parents, free to do whatever you wished. Whichever benefits a royal connection brought them would be nothing compared to your own guaranteed lavish lifestyle. You’d soon have your own castle, your own servants, and even your own soldiers! Oh, and the husband, too. You kept forgetting about that part. 

In some ways, the fact that he was a leper was a great relief to you. That meant you’d most likely be spared many of the wifely duties you had so been dreading; mainly, consummating the marriage. At your age, only 14 years old yet, there was nothing that interested you about the male body, giving birth, or raising children. It was not so long ago that you had helped raise your own little brothers, and the idea of going through all of that again made you feel so trapped. Not to mention the fact that giving birth was extremely dangerous. And painful. And frightening. That thought caused a memory you had been repressing for years to resurface from the depths of your mind, like a buoy in the ocean. It was the tortured screams of your mother the night your youngest brother was born. Had you not known better, you might have thought she was being ripped in two, and the labor lasted for so many endless, terrible hours, which felt more like days. You remembered the midwives rushing around, and the maids leaving your mother’s room with armful after armful of blood-soaked sheets and sloshing buckets of burgundy water. As they passed the place where you were hugging your knees in the corridor, a drop fell at your feet and sunk slowly into the stone floor, leaving nothing but a small round stain. 

Once it was time to leave your family home for the castle, you said goodbye to the view from your window, which you had become well-accustomed to. It was probably the thing you’d miss most, besides your brothers. You closed your bedroom door for the last time and meandered down the familiar, dimly-lit corridor, taking note of the particular stone which was still adorned by that tiny dot of brownish red. A shiver ran down your spine. You opted out of doing a final sweep to make sure you’d packed all of your belongings, because soon enough, you’d have better things to replace them with, anyway. The knights they’d sent for you had loaded your bags onto their horses about an hour ago and set off for your new home. Now, the only thing left to transport was you. 

Another knight was waiting for you outside with a large white horse. He watched as you hugged your mother and father stiffly, pretending not to notice your mother’s tears as she kissed you on the forehead like she used to when you were younger. Before you were a lady. Before you were the queen of Jerusalem. Your father said nothing, but his somber expression and the distant look in his eyes and the loose grip he had on your hand as he kissed the top of it told you everything you needed to know. The knight helped you mount the horse and get comfortable sitting behind him, and you waved goodbye to your family as you were carried away, truly intending it to be for everything you had ever known. But whatever sadness you might have been feeling was overpowered by sheer determination. Now, at 14 years old, your life was finally beginning.  

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The knight who sat in front of you on the horse did not turn out to be a very good conversationalist. The only responses you could draw out of him were along the lines of “Yes, Your Majesty,” or “No, Your Majesty.” You were hoping for someone a bit more…engaging, perhaps, as you were feeling an odd mixture of excitement and anxiety that grew with each and every gallop towards Jerusalem. And anxiety always made you talkative. 

“Is it fun at all, being a knight?” You shouted over the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, breaking the long silence that you had been enduring since the beginning of the journey. 

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

“You know, protecting the kingdom and such. Isn’t it exciting? I find the idea to be absolutely thrilling! Don’t you think so?” 

He paused for a moment, and then replied flatly, “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

You pursed your lips, waiting in silence for a few moments, expecting him to elaborate, but no such luck. Was it really so hard to share a gory battle tale or two to pass the time? You knew knights were known for having excellent integrity and virtuousness, meaning they would never say something that could potentially scare a lady, but couldn’t he humor you just this once, while you were alone? But maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, you thought, imagining how burdensome it must be to know the feeling of cutting someone’s head off. So, you graciously changed the subject and mentally patted yourself on the back for being so kind and just. It simply wouldn’t do, as future queen of Jerusalem, to force sensitive information out of this poor, traumatized knight for your own fleeting amusement. Maybe a few months earlier and it would have been acceptable, but alas. You sighed.

“This noble steed of yours is breathtaking. Does he have a name?” you questioned, admiring the animal’s snow-white pelt, entranced by the way its powerful muscles rippled beneath it.

“I do not know, Majesty. This horse belongs to the king. It is the only one His Majesty trusts, so he instructed me to collect you using it.” Another memory flashed through your mind, this time of your first meeting with your future husband. He had been riding this very horse that day, its stunning color matching that of his robes. Your heart fluttered at the idea that he’d cared so deeply for your safety, although it shouldn’t have surprised you. It was not as if he had parents forcing him into this marriage. He was accepting you in holy matrimony for some other reason, a reason entirely of his own. His own choice. A blush crept up the back of your neck, and you were suddenly thankful for the fact that the knight was facing away from you. You cleared your throat nervously. 

“Well, what’s it like, working for the king? Is he nice?” 

You felt the knight’s huge sigh before you heard it, your arms that were wrapped around his midsection rising and falling in tandem with the breath. 

“Yes, Your Majesty, the king is very…nice.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, rolling your eyes at his reservedness. You got the hint. You understood he didn’t want to talk, that much he had made very apparent, but that was just too damn bad. As queen of Jerusalem, you wanted to get to know your subjects, and who better to start with than the one sharing a horse with you? 

“Will I have my own chambers, or shall I share with the king?” You asked, holding back a giggle at the expression you were imagining the knight had on his face. 

“I am sure you will be provided with your own chambers, Your Majesty, but the choice of whether to use them or not will be entirely yours and your husband’s,” he replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice. You let out a loud laugh, which actually startled him a little, and then followed it up with another. 

“I wonder if he snores!” you said, between giggles. The knight smiled, shaking his head. After that, the journey to Jerusalem was easy. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next time you laid eyes on the king was when you were getting married, standing opposite each other in an architectural marvel of a cathedral, both dressed in extravagant clothing and expensive jewelry. His silver mask had recently been polished, and it shone beautifully in the sun, but still not as beautifully as his blue eyes. They were as you remembered them, only a bit brighter. His gold-trimmed robes were as white as ever, freshly washed and perfumed for the occasion. Even the gloves on his hands looked new and clean. You admired them as the priest rambled on in front of you. If God was listening right now, you thought, he’d surely be bored to tears. There was one part of the day you had enjoyed, though, which was the preparation for the wedding. You had been doted on by countless maids all morning, lining your eyes with black powder and weaving your hair into an intricate, interlocking braid pattern. The gown was altered to fit you perfectly, and the large, bell-like sleeves fell around your arms like wings. You were finally beginning to feel like a real queen. 

The ceremony seemed to drag on forever, but you passed the time by maintaining eye contact with King Baldwin. You drowned out the rest of the world and focused only on him. When you smiled, he smiled back. You could only see the corners of his eyes crinkling, but you knew what that meant. You cocked your head to the side, trying to imagine what his smile really looked like. During that evening you spent with him, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see it. Just as soon as he had taken off the mask, he had to put it back on. The consequences of your parents seeing Baldwin’s face would have been disastrous, but thankfully, their loud footsteps and jovial voices had carried quite well down the corridor, warning you of their arrival. Regardless of how short they were, those few seconds you’d spent admiring his bare face were enough to conjure up a half-formed image of what his smile might look like. However, that image disappeared when you saw him cock his head to the side, too, just as you had. You blinked twice. 

He blinked twice, too. 

Was he copying you on purpose? 

You shifted your feet, and he mirrored you, his robes shimmering like the ocean as they fluttered around him. You bit back a giggle. He was. Flames of mischief danced in his eyes, and something else, too, ignited there when you grinned at him. 

“…that these rings shall forever remained blessed, O Merciful Lord. Amen,” said the priest, approaching the king with a book, two rings laid on top of it. Suddenly, Baldwin became very serious, plucking one of the rings between his slender, gloved fingers and holding it gently. You stared as it glistened in the sunlight, which was penetrating the stained glass windows and casting colorful shadows around the altar. He slowly stepped towards you, making your heart begin to beat faster. His head stayed bowed as he presented you with his open palm. You held your breath and lifted your left hand, gingerly brushing your fingertips against his palm, now understanding what was about to happen. He effortlessly glided the ring onto your fourth finger, where it rested beautifully. The diamond glittered like water, mesmerizingly. Baldwin wrapped his fingers around your hand, now holding it as gently as he could, and the priest was now presenting you with a ring. You followed Baldwin’s lead, pushing it onto his fourth finger, which was waiting outstretched for you patiently. You stood mere inches apart, fingers of your left hands interwoven as the priest finished the prayers. The ring, as breathtaking as it was, was somehow still only secondary to the cerulean eyes of your now-husband, which were like two rich sapphires lined with delicate blonde hairs. 

“…And may God bless, preserve, and keep you, that you may have life and love everlasting. I pronounce that you now be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

The cathedral filled with polite claps and murmurs of “amen” as Baldwin released your hand and you turned to face the pews. Next to you, much to your surprise, he quickly dropped to his knees, his body angled towards you, clasping your fair hand between his. You gazed down at him through your lashes, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn. Boldly, Baldwin drew one hand up to his masked face, grasping it by the nose and swiftly pulling it to the side so that it was hiding his face from the crowd, but revealing it to you. He lifted your hand to his pink lips and pressed a searing kiss to it, liberally letting the physical contact linger, all the while maintaining eye contact with you from under his furrowed brow. You covered your mouth with your other hand to try and hide the toothy grin spreading across your face. He saw it anyway. The next thing you knew, he was grinning, too. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laughed. He laughed. You realized that you no longer had to imagine what his smile looked like. 

After the wedding ceremony, you were promptly bombarded by happy civilians wishing to congratulate you, or simply to catch a glimpse of their new queen, and Baldwin was whisked away by his mother, who seemed to be perpetually by his side. It seemed that she was not quite ready yet to surrender the role of Baldwin’s caretaker to you– but you had no gripes with that. You figured you’d grow into the role of loving, doting wife, as opposed to starting it right away, and unfortunately, the idea of changing his bandages each night before bed still made you shudder. In reality, his mother was not exactly thrilled about the marriage, either. She hadn’t found you or your family quite noble enough for her precious son. However, she was smart enough to see that it was unlikely that anyone else would ever volunteer their daughter to marry a leper, so she begrudgingly allowed the union. 

From the crowd, two plainly dressed women had introduced themselves to you as Matilda and Amelia, claiming that they were to be your servants. They would apparently be with you at all times, tending to your every whim and aiding you during your ascent to the throne, as well as bathing you and dressing you. Matilda was an older, more severe woman who had immediately intimidated you; her lips were drawn together thinly and permanently pursed, creating deep wrinkles around her mouth, and the rest of her face was an intricate web of creases and lines. Her graying hair was pulled back tightly, exposing her thinning hairline and sun-spotted forehead. Even her hands looked harsh, the skin rough and dry, cracking in some places, like mud that had been baking under the summer sun for too long. Amelia was quite the opposite; a timid, pretty young thing with wide brown eyes, fair hair, and a delicate frame. She’d barely had the courage to tell you her name, and rushed into the curtsey to avoid having to make eye contact with you for too long. She seemed to be around the same age as you, if not even younger.

After the attendees from the wedding had mostly dispersed, Matilda brought you back inside the castle to finally see your bedchamber, which you were to have all to yourself. She and Amelia led you through winding corridors and beautiful flowering courtyards, pointing out all the most significant landmarks along the way, such as the great hall, the kitchen, the maid’s chambers, the library, the chapel, the towers, the gardens, and the hundreds of guest bedrooms with conjoined washrooms. The last thing she showed you before your own room was the king’s quarters, which were directly across from yours. 

“Now, Amelia, go draw us a bath. There’s no need for two of us to be standing around here idly while the Queen inspect her chambers,” she ordered, and Amelia nodded, scurrying away to the washroom silently. 

As Matilda threw open the giant oak doors of your room, you couldn’t help but gasp, suddenly rooted to the spot. It was glorious. Taking up the majority of the room was a massive bed with four handsome posts, all carved with intricate floral patterns and stained a deep brown. The mattress was topped with overly-stuffed burgundy throw pillows and a comforter to match. Connecting to the four posts was a frame, from which wine-colored velvet curtains hung to give you some privacy. The same fabric was used to shroud the windows, which were floor-length and leaded. At the foot of the bed lay a pile of bags and wrapped items– all of your belongings from home! On the wall across from them was a large dressing table, covered in jewels and precious metals and bottles of fine-smelling oils. A small, round stool with a cushion on it sat underneath. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn’t help but abandon Matilda in the doorway, running and throwing yourself face-first onto the bed, just like you used to at home. You giggled and kicked your feet up into the air, unsurprisingly beginning to sink into the plush mattress. Immediately, you felt your body melt against the malleable, pillowy surface, deciding that you definitely approved of its fine quality. Your bed from back home simply couldn’t compare. However, your glee was short-lived, because it was abruptly interrupted by a stern voice. 

“Your Majesty! You must cease this behavior at once and right yourself! That wedding gown is priceless, and you mustn’t risk causing it any damage!” Matilda scolded, pulling you up by the arm and frantically kneeling to check the delicate garment for any possible tears or imperfections. You winced and apologized quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your juvenile behavior. She was right. As a matter of fact, most things in the palace were probably priceless, and it wouldn’t do to act so impulsively, to be so unladylike. Even you, in your youth, knew better than that. You crossed your arms over your chest, beginning to feel rather insecure upon realizing just how much you had to learn about life as royalty. 

“Come, child, it is time to undress. You must be bathed and prepared for your wedding night,” Matilda called, holding out a hand, her voice much more soft and gentle this time.

You gulped, not wanting to think about that, preferring to cross that bridge when you got to it. She bustled over to the magnificent dressing table, pulling out the stool for you to sit on. You obliged, seating yourself in front of her and watching in the mirror as her spindly fingers deftly unwound your intricate braids. It was relaxing, the feeling of her experienced hands nimbly dancing around your scalp, so you let the buildup of tension from the day slowly seep out of your muscles, loosening up more and more every second that passed. Soon, she was finished, and helped you to your feet, ordering you to keep your arms out straight as she undressed you. She pulled out pins from here and there, untied laces all around, and in a matter of minutes you were ready for your bath. 

The water was warm and steaming as you stepped in, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the feeling. Rose petals floated across the surface of the water, giving the entire washroom a fresh scent. As you expected, Amelia was waiting for you silently, brush in hand, ready to scrub you vigorously from head to toe. You braced yourself, expecting the rough bristles to be painful, but once she began working attentively, it wasn’t so bad at all. Yes, they were scratchy, but that’s exactly what you needed to get rid of all the dirt and dead skin. She lathered you in delicate smelling soap and added some more fragrant oils to the water, letting you soak until your skin had absorbed all the moisture it possibly could. Not a single inch of you was neglected by the time the water had grown cold, at which point you got out and were dried with a fluffy white towel. 

Next, you were ushered back into your chambers and changed into a pretty blue gown made of satin, which apparently “complimented the color of the kings’ eyes perfectly,” according to Matilda. You felt your gut twist at the mention of him, at the prospect of being alone in a room with him and that piercing gaze again. Now that you were man and wife, everything was different. You had a duty to fulfill, and it seemed to be unavoidable, despite how young and vulnerable you were. Despite how averse to it you might be. Your mother had told you all about it, about how it would only last a few minutes if you were lucky, and that you just had to breathe deeply and count the seconds until it was over. How it happened to every woman at some point in her life, and that what follows would be completely and utterly worth every second of endurance. How rewarding it was to raise a child, or two children, or as many as your womb could bear. But no matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you were still scared. You didn’t want that yet. You were only 14. 

But before attending to your marital duties, first, there was dinner. You were seated at the complete opposite end of the table as Baldwin, as far as physically possible away from him, despite the fact that he was the only person there you had ever spoken to. You were too far away to be able to tell if he was even looking at you from under his mask. Next to him was his mother, who proceeded to shoot you sideways glances the entire night. The rest of the table was filled with noble men and women whom you did not recognize, their titles unfamiliar to you and the lands they hailed from even more obscure. You picked at your food and tried to stay as silent as possible to avoid making a mockery of yourself on your first night as Queen of Jerusalem. Sooner than you had hoped, dinner had concluded, and you were taken aside by Matilda, who pulled you into an empty corridor as the guests began filtering out of the castle. 

“Child, do you know what is expected of you on your wedding night?” She asked, her voice low so that nobody except the two of you could hear the subject matter at hand. You took a deep breath and straightened you back in an attempt to appear more mature, before replying, 

“Yes, I will lie down and be still and hope that I am blessed with a child.” 

The woman smiled at you and clasped your shoulder, seemingly approving of your answer. 

“Exactly right, my dear. The king will call on you when he is ready, so you may go back to your room and occupy your time with an activity of your choosing until you are collected.” 

You nodded solemnly and thanked her before slowly making your way back to your room, trying to take as long as possible in an attempt to actually slow down time. Upon deeper reflection during this walk, you came to the conclusion that it was not being alone with the king that you were afraid of, but rather the act of consummating the marriage, which was, of course, something he had every right to do with you that night. It was the correct course of action. It was what all newlyweds did, no matter how young and afraid they were. Did he know what he was doing, you wondered, or was he just as oblivious as you? You couldn’t imagine the young king being oblivious about much of anything, in all honesty. He was far too intelligent– something you had seen for yourself over that game of chess. 

Once you arrived at your room, Amelia was waiting at the door for you, an even more wide-eyed look on her face than usual. Uh oh, you thought to yourself. 

“His Majesty the King has requested your presence in his chambers, Your Highness,” she said quietly, bowing her head as she spoke. How did he get here so fast? You thought to yourself, terror rising in your chest. Amelia watched in half fear and half amusement as you frantically wiped your clammy hands on the bodice of your dress and ran your fingers through your hair, which was cascading down your shoulders freely. She was young, too, and unwed, and the idea of a wedding night was something that made her stomach churn as well, so she offered you a sympathetic look and watched as you dragged your feet across the hall, knocking on the imposing oak doors of the king’s bedchambers. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had never been so jittery in his life. As he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for you to arrive, he fidgeted with his gloves, pulling them off by the fingers and then pulling them on again, over and over. All throughout dinner he had been gazing across the table at you, ignoring his mother’s neverending ranting as you stared down at your plate. Though you were only a blue blur with a vaguely maidenlike shape from where he was sitting, he was still completely enchanted, his heart beating in his throat every time you looked up in his general direction. He wondered if you could tell he was looking at you. Since the hour you were wed, he was able to think of nothing but you; your dazzling smile, your gorgeous hair, your playful sense of humor, the way the light in the cathedral illuminated your eyes. As the servants bathed him in strong-smelling medicinal herbs and wrapped the raw areas of skin with fresh bandages, he daydreamed about your voice, your laugh. And now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting your imminent arrival, he thought of practically everything except you. 

He panicked about the state of his body, the pressure of consummating a marriage, the burden of fathering a child at such a young age. He panicked about the weight of ruling an entire kingdom all by himself, no longer able to entrust the brunt of the work to Raymond, and of being a suitable husband. He panicked about how many years he might even have left, if his illness continued to progress. But every worry, every fear, every doubt left his mind as soon as he heard you knock on his door. 

He leapt to his feet, hastily pulling his left glove all the way back on and bounding over to the door, throwing it open wide with a grin on his face, to reveal… you, standing there, gaunt and sweating, looking like you had just suffered a bout of cholera. The smile on his face fell a bit, but it couldn’t be wiped completely clean. At least he could finally be with his bride, his love, his queen. 

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you murmured, your head bowed, pointing down at your shoes, as well as the freshly polished ones directly across from you. 

“Good evening, my Queen,” he breathed, heart beating quickly as you shuffled into his room. He closed the door behind you, letting it shut with a ‘click’ before following you over to the middle of the room, where you hovered like a ghost, still staring at the ground and clasping your hands tightly in front of you. A tense, silent moment passed, and still, you didn't move. Whatever was left of his smile faded from his unmasked face, and the panic from earlier began to return, crashing over him in icy waves. Why wouldn’t you look at him? He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from leg to leg. 

“Are you feeling very well tonight, my lady?” He asked tentatively, shuffling a bit closer. 

You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly turned, stiltedly making your way over to the bed. 

“Let’s just get this started then, shall we?” You said tersely, laying down on your back on the plush covers and screwing your eyes shut tightly. 

“I am ready.” 

King Baldwin stared at you blankly, frozen in the middle of the room, and completely panicking. No, no, no, this was all wrong, this was not how he wanted it to go…he absolutely did not want to force you into it, to do anything you didn’t also want…and you clearly didn't want it. You were lying there, as stiff as a board. This was the final straw for him.

He wasn’t ready for it yet either, he decided. He would just have to lie to his mother. When she discovered that the queen was, in fact, not pregnant, he would blame it on his own body, claiming to be infertile. It was probably true, at any rate. He took a deep breath, feeling shame and embarrassment at not being able to consummate his own marriage rise to his cheeks, and spoke three words, 

“You may go,” 

And those were the last three words he spoke to you for the next three years. 

Note: I'll give you a kiss if you can count how many times I reference you being the "Queen of Jerusalem" in this chapter.

[pandapetals]

Runaway

old man logan x afab!reader - i guess angst, inspired by rihanna's song desperado, set from the film logan, logan being nice, no y/n used, no reader description, mutant reader but no powers mentioned

Logan sees you on the side of the road and decides to pick you up.

read on Ao3

Logan hadn’t planned on stopping, let alone picking anyone up. But there you were, standing alone on the side of a dirt highway, the heat shimmering off the asphalt like a mirage. He didn’t know what made him slow down, what made him pull over and let you climb into the passenger seat of his beat-up truck. Maybe it was the way you looked—exhausted, dirt streaked across your face, bag slung over your shoulder like you’d been walking for days. Your skin was burnt, the blazing sun having made its mark, and yet your eyes, though heavy with fatigue, were sharp. Watchful.

Something about you reminded him of himself.

He didn’t regret it, though. In his old age, Logan had learned to appreciate the silence of a long drive more than anything else, and it seemed like you did too. You’d only said three words to him— “Thanks for stopping” —and he’d replied with three of his own: “Don’t mention it.”

After that, the two of you had settled into a companionable quiet. No questions, no small talk. Just the hum of the engine and the endless stretch of desert before you.

You'd relaxed a bit when he'd glanced over at you and muttered, “Take it easy.” It wasn’t a command, more like permission. To breathe, to let go of whatever had weighed you down on that lonely highway. And for a moment, you did. Your shoulders softened, your eyes closed, the tension in your body unwinding bit by bit, like you hadn’t felt safe enough to let your guard down until now.

Logan noticed but didn’t say anything. He just kept driving, his eyes fixed on the horizon, the cigarette between his lips burning low, the smoke curling out the window.

It wasn’t until he pulled off the road at a dusty old gas station, the kind that barely had enough lights to flicker, that things shifted again. The limo rolled to a stop, and you opened the door, stepping out without a word. At first, he figured you were just stretching your legs, shaking off the miles. But then he saw the way your bag was slung back over your shoulder, the determined set of your jaw, that wild, lone-wolf glint in your eyes.

You weren’t planning on sticking around.

“Hey,” Logan called, his voice gravelly, rough from years of too much smoke and too little sleep.

You paused, your back to him, your body tense like a coiled spring. Slowly, you turned, eyes meeting his with a wariness that hadn’t left since the moment you’d climbed into his truck. “Yeah?”

He stared at you for a beat, trying to read you, trying to figure out why he cared whether or not you left. “Run in and get me a beer,” he said, flipping a couple of crumpled bills toward you. The cash hit the dirt, fluttering at your feet.

For a second, he thought you might bolt. He could see it in the way your body shifted, like a rabbit ready to dart from a predator. Part of him expected it—half of him even wanted you to run. It’d be easier that way. No good ever came from sticking around people too long.

But you didn’t run.

You just sighed, like the weight of the world was sitting on your shoulders, and bent down to pick up the bills. With a flicker of resignation, you shoved the money into your pocket and walked into the convenience store, your bag still hanging off your shoulder like it was always ready to be picked up at a moment’s notice.

Logan watched you disappear inside, the glass door swinging shut behind you, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He lit another cigarette, the paper crackling in the quiet, and leaned against the limo.

He didn’t know why he felt relieved you hadn’t taken off. It wasn’t like you owed him anything, and he sure as hell wasn’t used to people sticking around. But something about you... maybe it was the way you’d stood on that highway, all defiance and exhaustion, or maybe it was the silence you carried like a second skin. Whatever it was, it gnawed at him, like he could see a piece of himself in you—another drifter with nowhere to be and no one to answer to.

When you came back out, a cold beer in hand, you tossed it to him without a word. He caught it mid-air, popping the cap off with a flick of his thumb, the hiss of carbonation breaking the tension.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice gruff.

You nodded but didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, you stood there for a moment, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, like you were still trying to decide whether to stay or go.

“You know,” Logan began, his eyes fixed on the darkening horizon, “you don’t have to keep running.”

Your shoulders stiffened, but you didn’t say anything. The weight of his words hung between you both, thick and heavy like the dust that clung to the desert air.

“I’m not running,” you muttered finally, your voice low, almost too quiet for him to catch but he knew it was a lie.

Logan took a long swig of the beer, watching you carefully from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you are,” he said after a moment, his tone even, almost resigned. “We all are.”

For the first time, you looked at him— really looked at him—and in that instant, something shifted. The walls you’d both built, the ones that kept you safe but alone, cracked just a little.

“Doesn’t mean you gotta keep doing it,” he added, voice softer this time like he wasn’t sure why he was even saying it.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you walked around to the back of the limo and climbed into the passenger seat, setting your bag down at your feet, the decision made. Logan didn’t ask where you were headed, didn’t push for answers you weren’t ready to give. He just slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and let the old engine roar to life.

The two of you drove off, leaving the gas station behind, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert. 

For the first time in a long while, Logan didn’t feel the weight of solitude pressing down on him. Maybe it was the silence between you, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing someone else was out there, wandering the same road.

Hours had slipped away, the sky outside now washed in soft hues of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Logan kept his hands steady on the wheel, his eyes locked on the road ahead. He could keep driving—hell, he’d driven through worse—but the soft sound of your head bumping gently against the window caught his attention. You were fighting it, he could tell. Your head kept nodding forward, then jerking back up as you tried to resist the pull of sleep.

Logan had lived long enough to master the art of sleeplessness. Nights on the run, nights on missions, nights spent haunted by things he couldn’t quite forget. Sleep was optional when you had the kind of past he did. But he could see it in you, the weariness sinking deep into your bones. He wondered how long it had been since you’d slept in a real bed—if you even remembered what that felt like.

Your exhaustion bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite name. So, with a quiet sigh, he pulled off the highway, easing the limo into the parking lot of a rundown roadside hotel. The flickering neon sign buzzed weakly in the evening air, casting an eerie glow over the mostly vacant lot. The engine rumbled to a stop, and the sudden silence jolted you awake.

“Why’d we stop?” Your voice was groggy, your eyes still hazy with sleep. You blinked, confused, disoriented, like you couldn’t quite understand why you were no longer in motion.

Logan’s chest tightened at the sound of your voice—how startled you were by something as simple as stopping. It reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember. “You need to rest,” he muttered, the words rough in his throat. “Can’t sleep sittin’ like that.”

He stepped out of the limo without waiting for your response, the night air cooler than he expected as it brushed against his skin. The neon light buzzed above him as he walked inside the hotel, the faint smell of old carpet and stale cigarette smoke hitting him the moment he opened the door. The place was barely a step above a motel, the kind of spot that wouldn’t ask too many questions, and that suited Logan just fine.

A few minutes later, he returned to the limo, the weight of a key card resting in his hand. He opened the door and slid back into the driver’s seat, holding the key out toward you.

You glanced at the key, then at him, an odd expression crossing your face as you squinted in the dimming light. “You got a room?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion.

Logan nodded, but then shook his head slightly, grunting in frustration. “No... I mean, yeah, but it’s not for me. It’s for you.” He shoved the key into your hand, his calloused fingers brushing yours for just a second—enough to feel how rough and worn his hands were like they’d spent a lifetime in battles you couldn’t begin to imagine.

You stared at the key in your hand, then back up at him, shaking your head. “I can’t take this,” you murmured, a hint of something like guilt creeping into your voice. “I don’t need—”

“Hey,” Logan cut you off, his voice gruffer than usual, like he was uncomfortable with the whole situation. “I’m bein’ nice here. And I don’t do nice shit, so take it.” His eyes, though hard, had softened just a fraction, as if he was daring you to argue with him but hoping you wouldn’t.

For a moment, you didn’t move. The weight of his offer hung between you, heavier than it should’ve been. There was more to this than just a bed—it was an unspoken acknowledgment of something. Trust, maybe. Or the fact that Logan, in his own rough-around-the-edges way, saw that you needed something more than just a seat in his limo.

Your fingers curled around the key, accepting it with quiet resignation, but your gaze lingered on his. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice low, the question carrying more than just curiosity. There was a vulnerability in it, a hint of something deeper, like you were trying to understand the man sitting next to you.

Logan looked away, his jaw clenching slightly as if the answer was something he didn’t want to say out loud. He exhaled through his nose, a heavy sound in the quiet cab of the limo. “Just get some rest,” he muttered, his tone clipped like he didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Maybe not ever.

You hesitated for a beat longer, then finally nodded, pushing open the door and stepping out into the cool night air. The pavement felt rough beneath your feet, a reminder of how far you'd come from wherever you started. The worn-down hotel loomed in front of you, the neon light casting strange shadows across the parking lot.

As you walked toward the door, you glanced back over your shoulder. Logan was still sitting there in the driver’s seat, his silhouette framed by the fading light. He didn’t move, didn’t watch you go—at least, not that you could tell. But something in the way he sat, rigid and tense, told you he was still paying attention. Always paying attention.

Inside the hotel room, the bed was lumpy, the sheets threadbare, and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the air. But it was a bed—a real bed. And that was something you hadn’t had in a while. You dropped your bag by the door, staring at the worn carpet for a moment, feeling the weight of everything settle onto your shoulders.

As you lay down not bothering to change, your body sank into the mattress, the tension slowly easing from your muscles. You closed your eyes, the hum of the highway distant now, Logan’s quiet gruffness still echoing in your head.

Outside, Logan leaned back in the limo, staring out into the fading dusk. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore—it felt like something else. Something that neither of you could name yet.

He stayed there, in the parking lot, engine off, his thoughts far away but still somehow with you, watching over you in a way he’d never admit to until he finally let sleep take him. 

You awoke to the damp feeling of drool on your chin, blinking groggily as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. The unfamiliar room slowly came into focus—the peeling wallpaper, the dim light filtering through the blinds. You sat up, glancing around as your mind caught up with your body. For a moment, you weren’t sure what time it was, until you peeked outside, pulling the blinds open just enough to see the sky painted with streaks of orange and pink.

The sun was setting. Still early.

The limo was still parked in the lot, right where it had been when you’d gone inside. A part of you had half-expected it to be gone, leaving you behind with nothing but a vague memory of a quiet, brooding man who had given you a ride. But there it was. 

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the bed, and stretching out the stiffness in your back. The bathroom mirror reflected a version of you that looked just as tired as you felt—hair tousled, eyes puffy from sleep. You splashed some water on your face, trying to freshen up, wondering just how long you’d been out.

As you towel-dried your face, a thought hit you: You didn’t even know the guy’s name.

You paused, staring at your reflection. Great. I got in a car with a complete stranger. A stranger who could’ve easily left you out there on the highway, or worse, done something while you were out cold. But he hadn’t. You knew instinctively that he wouldn’t. He could’ve hurt you, sure, but there was something about his demeanor that told you he wasn’t that kind of man. Reserved, gruff—yes—but not a threat.

Besides, there was something about the way he moved, the way he watched the world with an edge of suspicion like he was always prepared for the worst. It felt... familiar. Maybe that’s why you’d felt okay getting into the car with him. He was like you—a mutant. One of the few left in the world, just trying to survive.

You stepped outside into the cool evening air, pulling the door shut behind you. Logan sat in the limo, leaning back with his arms crossed, one hand tapping lightly against the worn leather of the steering wheel. His gaze lifted the moment you stepped into view, those sharp, unreadable eyes tracking your every move.

“Didn’t think you’d wait around,” you said as you approached, your voice carrying more uncertainty than you intended.

Logan shrugged. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be,” he replied, his tone casual, but there was a heaviness behind the words like maybe that had been true for a long time.

You opened the passenger door and slid in next to him. The limo smelled faintly of smoke and old leather, the scent oddly comforting now. You settled back into the seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“What’s your name?” you asked suddenly, realizing how strange it was to have shared a car—and now a bit of trust—with someone you didn’t even know.

“Logan,” he answered, the name grating out of his throat like it wasn’t used to being said. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his eyes staying on the horizon, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. “Yours?”

You hesitated for a second before giving it. It felt strange to be exchanging names after all this, but something in you wanted to fill the quiet between you with more than just silence.

Logan nodded once, letting your name hang in the air for a moment before glancing over at you. His gaze was hard to read—those deep, weathered eyes that had probably seen too much for too long. “How’d you end up out here?”

You shifted slightly, the question bringing a surge of memories to the surface—memories you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack right now. But there was something about the way he asked, so direct, so unflinching, that made it easier to answer.

“Been moving around,” you said simply. “Trying to stay off the radar, keep to myself.” You shrugged, glancing out the window at the fading light. “Guess I was just looking for somewhere quieter than the last place.”

Logan grunted like he understood more than he was letting on. “Not much quiet left these days.”

You both sat in the heavy silence that followed, the kind of silence that said more than words could. The world had become hostile to people like you—mutants, outcasts, whatever they wanted to call you now. It didn’t matter where you went; there was always a sense of being hunted, being watched like you were something dangerous to be kept in check.

“How long have you been running?” he asked after a while, his voice softer now, less gruff. There was something almost... knowing in it, like he’d been running, too for much longer than you could imagine.

You exhaled, the question hitting closer than you wanted it to. “Feels like forever,” you admitted quietly. “But really? Only a few years. Things started getting... bad.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at that, his fingers gripping the wheel until his knuckles whitened. “Yeah. They always get bad.”

You didn’t need to ask if he was speaking from experience. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the air between you—the weight of survival, the cost of staying alive when the world seemed determined to tear you down.

“Why’d you pick me up?” you asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the question. It had been nagging at you since he’d stopped on that highway, and now, sitting here with him, it felt safe enough to ask.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, then back to the windshield. He was silent for a long moment like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he shrugged, the movement almost imperceptible. “Seemed like you needed it.”

That was it. No explanation, no deeper reasoning. Just a simple truth, spoken with a kind of raw honesty that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t the type to offer anything he didn’t mean, and for some reason, that made his answer hit harder.

You nodded, accepting the answer for what it was.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “So, what’s the plan now? Where are you headed?”

You stared at him, then out the window focusing on the hotel neon sign, unsure how to respond. 

You hadn’t thought about the future beyond getting through the next day. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Keep moving, I guess. Same as always.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and distant. “Same as always.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, but the silence felt different this time—less heavy, more like a shared understanding between two people who’d been walking the same lonely road for too long.

Logan turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life beneath you both. “Where to, then?” he asked, glancing over at you with a look that said it didn’t really matter where you went. Not as long as you were both still breathing.

You met his gaze, feeling the unspoken question beneath it. You could keep running. Or maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do it alone this time.

“Anywhere but here,” you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

Logan nodded, pulling the car into gear and easing back onto the road, the fading sun casting long shadows across the landscape as you drove toward whatever came next.

[nostalgiclittlespace]

hihi! if ur taking requests…

her main cg: husk (and or) angel, whatever floats ur boat !!

little: niffty

plot: maybe niffty regresses to abt 2-3 and she’s really hyper ? like maybe they need to get her to nap or something?

thank you if you do this! don’t feel pressured if u don wanna :>

Hi!!! I honestly had a lot of fun with this one; I wrote both Angel and Husk as her CGs btw. Niffty is so chaotic when little, she’d absolutely need them both XD. I hope you enjoy!

SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, K!NK, MAP, PROSHIP OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES.

Title: Sugar Rush and Storytime

Word count: 1477

Pairing: CG! Husk & CG! Angel Dust x Little! Niffty. Background Huskerdust

Description: Despite a long day of endless adventures and play, Niffty still isn’t tired. Maybe giving her so many sweet treats wasn’t a good idea after all…Good thing Husk’s storytimes a can come to the rescue! AKA, Husk and Angel are exhausted parents. (Fluff)

Sugar Rush and Storytime

“Oh, come on, Nif!” Angel exclaimed in exasperation as the little cyclops climbed up the lobby’s bookshelf.  

It was as if she were trying out for his part as resident spider.  She had been running and climbing frantically for the past ten minutes.  Husk and Angel’s team efforts to catch her had proved unsuccessful.  Even with the cat’s wings and the latter’s many arms, Nifty always evaded their grasp.  Her wiggling and teasing giggles showed just how much of a game she considered it.  Not that her caretakers were the least bit amused.

Before this, Angel and Husk’s playtime with Niffty had been a positive experience actually!  Tea parties, getting introduced to all her roaches, endless hours of games, and exploring the Hazbin Hotel…One would have assumed the girl would be ready for a break by now.  

“Snacktime, then nap,” Husk had said half an hour ago.  “She’ll settle down.”

As if the fates controlling Hell had a rather sadistic sense of humor, Niffty had not in fact settled down.

Despite their usual routine, despite all their adventures that had certainly left Angel and Husk exhausted, Niffty had no interest in taking her usual nap.

“I told you not to give her so many cupcakes!” Husk growled, trying and failing to catch her.

Right.  Niffty’s newfound energy rush might have been caused by all the sweet treats Angel Dust had given her for a snack.  But she had asked so nicely!  Looked up at him with that enormous eye and blinked so innocently, and hugged his leg happily when he agreed?  Did Husk actually expect Angel to deny the little one?  He wasn’t cold and heartless! 

“I only gave her three!” Angel argued, but broke off the argument with an abrupt,  “Aha!”

Just then, Angel snatched Niffty from the top bookshelf she had managed to climb up.  She pouted a little, exclaiming and babbling something unintelligible.  

“Gotcha, Nif!” Angel cheered, pulling her close. 

“Finally,” Husk huffed.  “Alright, Nif, naptime.”

“No!” Nifty half whined, half giggled.

Already, she tried worming out of Angel Dust’s grip.  She likely would have succeeded if the arachnid didn’t use all six of his arms to hold her steady.  Angel and Husk shared a glance, silently communicating their predicament.

It was naptime.  Niffty wasn’t tired.  Do they let her stay up, choose their battles?  Or put their foot down?

“Maybe we could let her stay up for ten more minutes?” Angel suggested quietly.  “She could let the rest of her energy out and–”

“Yeah!  A hundred more minutes!” Nifty declared, then breaking free of Angel’s hold.

The cyclops landed on the ground, and sprung up to her feet immediately.  In inimaginable speeds, she took off running.  Delightedly, she darted laps around the lobby and squealed and screamed childishly.

“No, no, no!  I said ten minutes!” Angel tried to protest before sheepishly turning to Husk.  The cat had not raised his head from a face palm.  “Uh, oops?” Angel laughed nervously.

“Next time she’s regressed, I’m kicking you off the shift,” Husk grumbled as they watched the chaos unfolding before them.

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Angel grinned.  “No way you could stand all the tea parties and dress up without me to keep you company.  You might do some fine drag–the pink dress Nif had you in today was real pretty on you–but its hardly a show with only one dressing up.”

“Not everything is a show,” Husk grumbled as he and Angel wandered over the couch Niffty was currently launching herself from, jumping from furniture to furniture.

“You in a dress sure is though, Husky.”

Before Husk could retort, Niffty came barreling around the couch again, this time running at full speed towards the cat.  She careened into him, wrapping her arms around one leg.  If years under Alastor’s, and thus Niffty’s shenanigans, he surely would have toppled over from the strength.  However, the cat was sturdier than he looked, and managed to keep complete balance as the little cyclops clung onto him.

“Husker!” she shrieked excitedly.

“Hey there, kiddo.  You feeling tired at all yet?”

“No!  Let’s play a game!”

“We’re supposed to be having quiet time right now, Nif,” Husk reminded her, arching an eyebrow.

“Noooo,” Niffty insisted.  “No nap!”

“You don’t have to nap during quiet time,” Angel remarked slyly, clearly having something in mind.  “It just means you have to do some calm activities.  How about that?”

Tapping her chin in thought, Niffty considered the possibility.  Angel and Husk exchanged pleading, hopeful eyes.  Surely, if they could convince her to just settle down, then she would inevitably fall asleep on her own.  All that playing had to have worn her down, right?

“Only if Husker reads a story!” Niffty declared.  “Then we play tag!  And hide and seek!  Then another tea party!”

“Oh, fine,” Husk sighed, as if the request bothered him at all.

It really didn’t.  Angel knew full and well that storytime was one of Husk’s favorite activities.  Something quiet and calm, something he did well.  After all, his low, comforting voice calmed anyone who heard it.  Niffty was no exception.

The girl snatched Angel’s and Husk’s hands, already pulling them towards the couch.  Determined, she directed Husk to the center cushion before running over to the lobby bookshelf.  As she shuffled through the picture book titles, both caregivers said their silent prayers that storytime would effectively send her off to dreamland.  

If it failed, they’d inevitably be stuck chasing her around the Hotel for who knows how long…

A moment later, Niffty ran back to the couch, a large picture book in her hands and her eye glowing with excitement.  Shoving it into Husk’s paws, she then scrambled into the seat beside him.  Charlotte’s Web, Husk noted with faint amusement.  Briefly, he pondered if Niffty’s arachnid caregiver influenced the choice.  He kept the thought to himself, however, flipping it to the first page.

“Chapter one, Before Breakfast…” Husk began.

Minutes passed by.  Serenity filled the air as Husk’s voice carried through the lobby.  Miraculously, Niffty actually quieted down to listen.  Peering over his arm, she viewed the illustrations with interest.  

As the time passed, her eye grew noticeably heavier, taking longer and slower blinks.  Perhaps only a few more minutes until she fell asleep completely then…

“You may have redeemed yourself by convincing her to take the quiet time,” Husk muttered to Angel as he turned the page.  However, he received no reply.  Glancing over, he saw the Angel had his eyes closed too.

“Angel, are you asleep?” Husk hissed.  

“Hm?  Oh, no…” the spider hummed, though he sure sounded close to dreamland.  “Keep reading.”

Sighing, Husk resumed his reading.  His low voice carried through the otherwise silent lobby.  The occasional page turn or a yawn would add onto the serenity every few minutes.  

As Husk read, he felt Niffty go slack in his lap, and her breathing even out to slow, deep breaths.  On his other side, Angel was sure feeling pretty limp too; his floof of head fur tickled and teased Husk’s shoulder, and the spider made no move to sit up, even after Husk had closed the book.

“Angel?” Husk inquired quietly, in case he had indeed fallen asleep.

But, the spider only mumbled something sleepily and shrugged a little before his soft, snoozing snores resumed.

Guess I’m stuck here, Husk mused.

As he waited for Niffty and Angel to awaken again, he mused what the hell he’d do with his not-so-free time.  The TV remote was too far away to get without disturbing one or both of the sinners asleep on him.  He could read the newspaper Alastor had abandoned on the coffee table?  

Yes, that sounded like a good plan.  But, he’d just sit here for a moment too.  Just take some deep breaths to recover from the eventful afternoon he had just experienced.  Besides, the weight of Angel and Niffty on either side of him was admittedly rather relaxing…

Husk fought off a yawn of his own as he mindlessly stroked Niffty’s hair.  Somewhere along the way, he convinced himself to rest his eyelids.  Not to fall asleep of course, just to relax…

But, as if Hell found humor in turning the cat even softer, he too fell into a peaceful sleep only a minute later.  

***

It was hours later before any of them woke up.  Further proof of her endless energy, Nifty arose before Angel or Husk.  She opened her eye blearily, and looked around the empty lobby, then at the clock.  Seeing it was time to help Alastor make dinner, she slipped off the couch before snatching a cozy blanket and creeping towards Husk and Angel again.   Carefully, she tucked the blanket around her exhausted caregivers.  

Her gesture was simple compared to the endless care they showed her, but that didn’t mean it contained any less love.

[mr-t-stark]

~ 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝓎 & 𝒶𝓋𝒶 ~

"You know I only agreed to this because I am friends with Natasha," Ava says as the elevator door closes infront of her and Nick Fury. Ava didn´t like new people, so she did need someone she knew if she was going to join. He looks at Ava with an annoyed expression, Ava smiling sweetly back at him, because he didn´t know about her anxiety issues. "I don't care if you're the president. I'm not changing just because I'm going to be saving people," She points out making Fury roll his eyes and look straight ahead. Ava liked being all sassy and flirty and tough around people. Then she could break down alone in peace. "Just try to be nice? I know Natasha puts up with your shit, but not everyone will," He says, making Ava nod slowly. Truly? Fury intimidated her, however probably most people did. But Ava was intimidated by most when she didn´t know them, that why she used her sass and brattiness and flirting to get ahead without issues. And the fact that she had ADHD probably didn´t help with the fact that she just simply didn´t like doing things wrong. So if she got the impression she wasn´t liked or something like that, she pulled away instantly.

"I can't wait for you to meet her. She's the life of the party," Natasha says and sips her water, pacing a bit as she waited for her friend to arrive, but then she did and Natasha smiled and walked over. "Ava! I´m so glad you finally agreed to join! I can´t stand all the testosterone," she spoke making Ava snort. "Yeah, I can see that," she spoke before going around the room greeting everyone, however when she came to Tony she smirks and looked at him. "Anthony Stark. The playboy himself," she spoke and hummed. "You´re more handsome than I thought you would be," she spoke honestly and held her hand out for him to shake. "I´m Ava."

When Natasha had told the team about Fury recruiting a new member that happened to be a friend of hers, Tony had at first been skeptical. It's taken some time for him to get to know the team, build their dynamic, all that shit. And though he'd never admit it, he's becoming quite fond of them. They're growing on him. Sure, some people can act like dicks at times, but, well, he is one, too. Sometimes. Perhaps most of the time, if you asked Pepper. Arguably all of the time, if you asked his exes.

So the thought of a new member joining was... How does he put this? Unexpected, one could say. A new member entailed a lot of things.

But since Fury's decision was solid, he knew he had no say in it. Doesn't mean he didn't try to complain, though. Futilely.

Ava Thompson was her name, Natasha had told him. She didn't say anything else. Their history, how they met, who she actually is; only a brief description of her abilities, a 'you'll see', and a wink.

So, as any person would do, he looked into her records, her history, everything he could find with JARVIS' assistance. People call it 'a breach of privacy', he calls it 'using his abilities to ease his trust issues against new people'. Not the same thing.

She seemed pretty ordinary. Natasha said something about her being in some sort of magic cult or whatever. What was it? Karma touch? Something that sounded funny. He finds no trace of that.

But if anything, he finds nothing else that seemed suspicious. No ties with bad parties, no crime records, nothing to hint she may be some Nazi undercover or something.

So though he may be a little wary of whoever she may be, the information he's got of her so far does ease some of his nerves. Natasha seemed to have a positive impression of her, anyway.

When the day comes for them to meet this Ava Thompson, Tony is, and hopefully not visibly, a little uneasy. They're at the team's meeting room--aka The Doomed Room Of Inevitable Boredom, if Cap's endless rants about fire safety and stop, drop, and rolls is anything to go by--Tony sat where he usually is, fiddling idly with a pen.

He watches Natasha pace back and forth, muttering one thing or another. It's only a moment before he sees Fury, and a certain someone trailing at his side, enter through the door.

Natasha greets her, and she introduces herself to the team. Tony stays a bit behind, observing. His research seems to be accurate, visually. She looks like how he had expected her to look.

When she approaches him, however...

"The one and only," he replies with a boyish grin when she immediately recognises her. When she then starts to flirt, Tony sees it as a challenge. She accepts her hand with a firm shake. He lowers his voice and lays that Stark charm thick, taking a moment to look her up and down. "Honey, I'm more than what you see from those cameras."

He lets go of her hand, shoving his own in his pockets, and says, "Welcome to the team. Have you gotten a tour of this place?"

He's always one for some fun.

[lucyandthepen]

last eden - i . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, possibly some mild language, like... one very tame mention of making love ig word count: 4.3k

A/N: yeah i have a lot of these fics that i'm repurposing that i desperately want to post so i can continue them so please look the other way at my random over enthusiasm i beg !! my only long-standing mark fic is actually gorgeous, and while we do love a good raunchy piece, i love mark way too much to keep it to just that. this was my first ever fic on my old blog, and i'm quite attached to the idea despite the fact that it's actually very difficult for me to write. i changed the name because i actually love this song by maktub (anything he puts out is gold to me), which i think generally fits the vibe of the story, so give it a listen if you're interested! so i hope you all enjoy this idol!verse soulmates fic! (help a gal out by reblogging, liking, and leaving a few kind words if you're so inclined!)

“This isn’t really your best idea.” 

You know this. You’re fully aware of the possible and endless risks as well as the minimal benefits. But you have to go. The thing that Heehyeon, your roommate, doesn’t fully understand is that this could be your one and only shot, and it could mean life or death. And you know that sounds pretty dramatic, but it really is. you don’t really have all the details (when, where, how, the important stuff) but that doesn’t matter to you right now. 

What really matters is that today is NCT’s comeback stage at M! Countdown, and you have to be there. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those things you have to go to because your a die-hard fan and you just have to support the group and do all those fan chants and lie to your mom about going to the library when you’re really staying over outside a company building for hours just to wave those silly, expensive light sticks that look like they came out of the factory a bit funny. Sure, NCT’s music was nice (enough), but that isn’t really the reason why you told your mom not to come over this weekend because you would be out on a company team building retreat (as if they actually do that). More than anything, you knew you had to take this chance to see him. 

When you don’t respond, Heehyeon presses on with a firmer tone, as if she’s determined to convince you even though you both know nothing is really going to stop you at this point.

“Listen to me, _____________. You are going to a tightly-packed music show with at least a hundred other fans, and you are going to stand in the middle of that dense crowd and — and what? Stare up at him. That’s it. He’s not going to see you; that stage is so high up he’ll probably only catch a look at your forehead, and that’s if you make it up front. And since we both know you’re neither the tallest nor the luckiest person in the world, you know the odds are against you. You’re probably going to get pushed to the back, or stampeded, and it’s going to be messy, and you’re going to push, and they’re going to push you back, and your make-up is going to fall apart, or whatever. Is this really worth it?”

“I told you,” you try to sound patient, but the idea of being buffeted away from the stage by a large wave of sweaty bodies causes more discomfort than you had originally anticipated thanks to her colorful and supremely unhelpful description. “If being near the stage doesn’t work out, I’ll wait out back, near the exit, and —“

“Oh yeah, and ambush him. Because you’ll be the only one there, and because that’s totally safe.” She drops the slightly (well, pretty) judgmental tone when she sees your bottom lip quiver. “I’m not… I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to reach out to him. But this doesn’t sound like the best way, _____________. Security is so tight there, and NCT’s security is even more wary. Even if you do manage to get close, what in the world are you going to say?” 

“I— I’ll figure it out once I’m there.” You purse your lips; surely I love you; we’re meant to be together wouldn’t be that hard on your end, but the more important question is: did it sound sane? You didn’t express this doubt, though. Doing so would give your roommate more ammunition to turn back at you; you’d play it by ear when you actually got around to making eye contact with him (if that ever happened at all). And — well, maybe you wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d remember you.

At that thought, you feel an initial wave of laughter, closely followed by a second, much more painful wave of nausea. Of all the absurd things you could think of, that was probably the most ridiculous. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she recapitulates, shaking her head. “You know what they do to people who stalk idols and say they’re really going to get married to them, or whatever. You know what they’d call you.”

“But I’m not crazy like that,” you argue.

“I know that, but they don’t know anything about you! You’d be labeled a sasaeng. They’ll probably think you’re one of those girls that sneak into their dorms and sniff their underwear before selling them on the dark side of Taobao through a weird Chinese proxy or something.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You ball your fists at your side, feeling a little betrayed. Heehyeon, of all people, should be able to understand why you had to do this, even if it was ludicrous. She had remembered you, reached out to you before you could even place her. She’d heard your story, understood that you had been waiting years for this moment, even stopped you on other occasions when you were about to do the same thing you were planning now, saying it wasn’t the right time. “I don’t have any other way of contacting him. I don’t even know if this is going to work, but you know I have to try, and I feel like this is the right time. I have to see him. I have to — I have to be with him. I don’t need your blessing to go, you know.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging over you now, and Heehyeon’s expression has gone mostly unreadable, save for that twinge of worry still present in her gaze. The soft sound of regular, heavy exhales punctuate every few seconds that pass, and you realize a little later that it’s your breathing, which has turned a bit heavy from the energy spent sort-of yelling at your roommate. 

“I know that,” she finally sighs. “I know that, _____________. I just wish you used a different way. Like, a safer, less crazy one.”

“I would use one if there were one.” You frown. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, like attack him. I would never do that.”

She doesn’t say much anymore, opting to watch you instead as you stuff a few more essential things in your bag. A hat. A fan. a bottle of water. Heehyeon had tried to coerce you to buy one of those cheering kits with those slogans, but you didn’t want to waste your money on it, and, truthfully, you didn’t want his name hanging on your walls like some sick reminder in case he rejected you.

“What did you tell your manager?” She asks in a clear attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I told her I was sick. You know she never really asks as long as I find someone to substitute for me,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, standing straighter. “How do I look?” 

“Pretty damn healthy,” she notes. “But also kind of crazy.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, Heehyeon,” you roll your eyes as you make your way out of the room. Before you close the door, she makes one last quick remark.

“Not if I see you on the evening news first!”

You have to take two buses to get to Sangamsan-ro. Even though the traffic is generally mild, the buses make too many stops and wait too long for old ladies with their fruit baskets and newspapers to get on. The wait is making you anxious, and you think about getting an orange to abate your growing hunger, but you’re also so nervous that you’re sure you’re going to spew it all out onto the bus floor anyway. So, you content yourself with listening to music and fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 

All you have in your phone is NCT’s music. The files were so large that you’d had to delete everything else you used to listen to and a handful of pictures too (mostly selfies that would have never seen the light of day, anyway) just to get them to fit. You used to only listen to the Korean versions, but you’d found all these little nuances in how Mark raps his lines depending on the language, so you’d started listening to the English and Japanese releases too, even though you can’t understand a lick of anything but ‘baby.’ Most of the time, you skip over to the relevant (see: Mark-filled) parts, already having memorized their timestamps to a kind of sick degree. 

It was kind of dumb, and sort of selfish, but you had never really identified yourself as an NCT fan anyway. If you had been an active part of the groups following, people would have probably called you an akgae. You were really only concerned with one member, and it was that member’s voice that filled your ears when you’d plugged your earbuds in and put the volume up.

The first time you’d seen him was in your last year of college. One of your college friends had asked you to accompany them to a Nature Republic outlet downtown. Despite your general lack of interest in make-up at that point in time, you’d gone because she’d promised to buy you a corndog. What you’d gotten instead was a large standee of a handsome guy smiling at you and holding out a pot of aloe vera gel. 

You knew his eyes. Even though his features changed a million times in your memory, you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else’s — soft, warm, brown eyes that you’d stared into for truly an eternity. His were eyes you could never forget, were never allowed to forget. You could remember the millions of times they’d smiled up at you in those past lives you were haunted with, twinkled with mischief and laughter in your presence, borne deep into yours on hot summer nights as you made love. Of all the uncertain things in all of the lives you remembered living, these eyes acted as your anchor. 

You’d almost forgotten you were there with a friend until she’d called out to you, telling you to step inside the shop. Trying to sound disinterested despite the fact that your heart was pounding, you asked who the guy in the standee was. Mark, she’d called him. Mark of NCT. He was an idol, a rapper in one of those up and coming groups that was starting to gain a lot of attention within the general public because of their ‘cool, chic concepts.’ At that information, your heart had fallen into a pool of acid in your stomach. 

Other times were hard, but not this hard. Most of the factors that had kept you or torn you apart were much larger in scale — war, famine, other natural disasters. This, out of all the other times, seemed to be the most difficult; he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore, but a god among men — a god you couldn’t be allowed to approach. You had ditched your friend the moment she’d gotten her change back at the counter, citing a sudden time of the month as the root cause, and dashed out and back to school, sparing only one last glance at the standee. 

You’d been waiting for him for years, carefully looking for any sign of him in the people around you, but you had grown tired and had come to believe that maybe, in this life, you had been set free — that he didn’t exist, and the curse would be over. However, as you pored over each and every teaser, music video, advertisement, and blurry, noise-heavy radio interview you could find even a sliver of his face in, you realized that the curse had come back, and in a much larger force than you could ever imagine. 

You’d stared at your desk for the longest time that day; the sun had dipped out of sight already when you’d sighed yourself out of your trance. It had never been this difficult. Having the Memory was mostly the worst thing ever, but its usual perk was that you could pick him out a little easier, and he was never too far away — nobody you ever knew in your first life ever was. They just kept coming up again and again, running around in little circles throughout time and space, and you recognized them in a way you’ve come to grow familiar with. It’s a tug, sort of like a tickle in your stomach, and you knew then that he was close by. The signal only stopped when you found him, and it usually wasn’t that hard. From there, you were responsible for weaving the same kind of story — one in which you would fall in love, be happy for a period of time, and then… well. 

Heehyeon has the Memory, too. She’d remembered you from a previous life, too, and picked you out of a packed line at a coffee shop, striking up one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever had the displeasure of being a part of because she hadn’t been sure if you remembered her. It was only when she mentioned that you seemed like someone she could be good friends with and that you also seemed like you just happened to like your coffee black with two sugars did you realize that her sudden onslaught of friendliness was a sign she might be like you: unable to forget. She’d actually once asked you if you’d tried just letting him go, and you’d responded with a resolute no. At this point, it was too hard to call him a lost cause, even if he really seemed it. How could you stop loving someone you know you’ve loved for millennia? 

He’s extremely handsome in this life, you’ve noted. Girls were falling all over him, which only made things ten times harder. A couple of years back, some rumors of him dating a labelmate had come up. Heehyeon had talked you through that long night of you clutching tissues in a fist and sobbing about how you didn’t want this anymore, how it was never fair, how every single time you had to find him was just growing more and more difficult until it seemed to reach an impossible arc. But, mostly, you’d cried because you hated the possibility — probably the confirmation — that he didn’t remember you at all. 

You didn’t really expect him to, but you always hoped. Every life, you would approach him, and he would be a clean slate. It was a tiring process, one you wished you weren’t constantly responsible for. Some days, you resented him; how could he live his life carefree, without even the notion that you two were meant to be together? Most days, though, you just longed for him. Him, and a happy ending. 

You let out a sigh as the track changes. His voice greets you again; over time, you’ve noticed it sounding even cooler, more impactful. He’s doing well for himself. And here you are, attempting to make yourself stand out in a pool of fans he probably can’t even see clearly. Nice.

You get to listen to about half of the newly released album before you realize you’re nearing your stop. Sidestepping a couple of baskets of oranges, you make it to the door and dash out. Heehyeon had drawn you a crude map to CJ E&M, and you’d been skeptical of it at first, but you realize now you would have gotten lost and missed the stage long before you got there if you had gone in blind. You’d make sure to thank her when you got back. If you did actually come back in one piece. 

Heehyeon also hadn’t been joking; the line outside looks like it would fill a whole section of Jamsil. You’d heard of the dedication of some of these fans, but you’d never seen it like this, nor had you ever actually been a part of it. Kids were really up at three in the morning in support of NCT. Many of them are probably here specifically in support of Mark, you think. Sure enough, the people you line up behind are holding holographic slogans with the print “Mark-yah!” You swallow hard, trying not to regret your decision not to partake in that. 

It feels like hours before you get even close to the door of the building. The chatter has died down a little, but not by much; even with less people ahead of you, the noise pollution increases in tandem with the excitement in the atmosphere. You’re not excited, though. You’re sick to your stomach, wishing you hadn’t come alone and wondering if you were going to regret this. Probably. Luckily, a couple of teenagers behind you strike up a casual conversation starting with “ah, it’s getting more humid now,” and you take turns complaining about what the weather would probably be like later on in the day before you start talking about NCT. They’re both Jaehyun fans, and you think about whether or not you remember meeting him in a past life. Nothing really rings a bell.

When you tell them you’re here for Mark, they giggle. 

“We know,” they chime. “You’re wearing blue.” 

“It’s his favorite color,” you say, a little defensively. 

“Everyone knows that. Everyone here wearing that ocean blue is a Mark fan. Didn’t he say so once?” They dissolve into laughter again, but you say nothing. Maybe he had said that recently. Then again, his favorite color has always been blue — the color of the sky and the sea he seems to love so much. 

The line grows shorter and shorter, and your ankles feel like they’re starting to swell. You’ve been standing for a good two hours now, and you regret not having bought one of those NCT membership cards that get you up to the front of the line. It’s really no surprise that you, the two Jaehyun fans, and the others in the line behind you are all squished in the back, just like Heehyeon had said you would be. It takes a good twenty minutes before the lights dim down and the stage lights start up, and you hear the buzz that increases in volume right before it becomes a collective deafening shriek from the crowd. The light sticks go up, and you’re momentarily blinded by the large stars that blink NCT in some weird logo form before you get your bearings again. By that time, the members have begun trooping onto the stage in a single file, and you forget your swollen ankles as you tiptoe and crane your head for a better view. 

He’s there, your mind screams. He’s right there. You’ve got a whole crowd in front of you, but he’s right there. 

The Jaehyun fans are losing their mind too; he’s talking, asking them how they found the album and encouraging them to keep supporting it. Typical idol stuff, you assume, but the fans go wild in an attempt to reassure him that they will. They all speak in a line, and you note Mark will be last. When the mic is handed over to him, the fans start screaming again. You feel like you want to yell as well, except you’re not sure if you’ll say something actually coherent that other people will hear. Instead, you tiptoe a little higher, fixing your pretty bad eyesight on his face and perking your ears up. 

“You’re all here so early,” he starts. “How long have you been waiting for us?” 

A flurry of numbers fly across the room. He smiles in this genuinely affectionate way even though his eyes can’t focus on a single person in the dark, and your heart stutters at the sight.

“Do your mothers know you’re here?” He’s teasing now. “You can’t tell them that NCT is the reason you’re not sleeping well, you know. Everyone, make sure that you eat breakfast and rest well before school today, okay?” 

While the crowd screams in response, you let out a little whimper. It’s a weak, pathetic sound, but it essentially sums up how you feel, seeing him like this from so far away. 

The pre-recording starts, but you barely catch anything. You’re too small for this kind of life, and you get so tired of tiptoeing that you actually do try to push your way through the crowd. Of course, this is fruitless, and you end up squatting by the back wall of the room, sipping on your water conservatively and listening to the Jaehyun fans do the chant religiously. 

NCT performs the song two more times before they’re saying their goodbyes. You muster up the energy to stand again and make a beeline for the exit before everyone else can smash their way through. The sun is almost up now; beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck as you round the building, trying to find the indicated spot that Heehyeon had marked as the back exit of CJ E&M. You worry about how you’re in the wrong place for about ten minutes until you see the two Jaehyun fans turning the corner quickly, obviously with the same goal as you: to catch NCT as they leave the building. 

In no time, the fans have gathered at the spot again, and it seems like they’ve multiplied tenfold; the chants are louder and there are girls with gigantic cameras trying to shove you away from the spot. Security from the company camps out in front of you, their gazes shifting from the door to the crowd and back again. 

People around you roar the moment the doorknob turns. Nine of them file out, now in regular clothing, surrounded by their own security. You feel a surge of force behind you, trying to push forward, and someone’s camera lens hits you hard in the side of the face. You barely have time to cry out in surprise, caught in what would have been a scream of pain, when you see him. 

In the growing light, Mark looks like a king. No — like a god, actually. Everything on his face shines even when minimal sunlight strikes it; his teeth help, too, brightening his face as his mouth hangs open in an easy laugh. He’s talking to Doyoung and has to face him, his sharp jawline being the first thing anyone can see from that perspective, and it’s that angle that creates all these alarms in your head. 

For some reason, you’ve blocked out the noise around you. Even the pain from the camera lens attack isn’t bothering you as much anymore; you feel like you’re in an aquarium, and all the screams are on the other side of the glass. Your vision tunnels; all you can see is him. 

You’d promised Heehyeon you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Again and again, she’d asked you and drilled you and reminded you that you weren’t supposed to do anything that would get you into trouble. Even with those promises you’d made, she’d still doubted you. Later, when you’d tell her this story, she’d roll her eyes and yell I told you so!, because, well, she did tell you. And, when you’d look at it in retrospect, you’d see that you should have listened. 

Right now, though, you’re walking. Somehow, the camera lens that had attacked you had turned its gaze onto much more important targets; the guard stationed in front of you grunted in pain and reflexively retracted his hand after the lens made contact with it. It wasn’t a long movement, but it was enough for you to be pushed forward by the crowd. Enough to get your feet moving. 

Other fans had stopped trying to break through; though many were still hysterical, most were trying to take pictures of the members as they climbed into the van. One by one, they were disappearing before your eyes. No, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that the noise behind you has gotten much louder. Not now. He hasn’t seen me yet. Not yet, please. 

You don’t realize that your feet have picked up the pace, and you’ve broken into a short sprint before the building security could catch you. It’s too late; he can’t leave his post, and he only has to hope that NCT’s staff are well-equipped to fend off a running girl. They are, but they’re too busy helping the members that they’re caught unaware — just long enough for you to be within an arm’s reach of them. 

Mark is almost in the van; he’s caught off-guard, too, and he doesn’t realize that something’s not right until you’re already there. Security grabs his arm and tries to tug him out of your reach and into the van at the same time that a strong hand grapples at the back of your shirt. Doyoung, who had been by Mark’s side, tries to use his arms to shield you from his friend when he realizes who you are targeting, yelling out something you can’t really understand. 

It’s a ten-second long struggle of limbs in which you hear your own “Let go of me!” harmonize perfectly with Mark’s frantic “What the —?” Somehow, though, you’re able to fight through Doyoung’s arms and grip Mark’s wrist with a sweaty palm. The contact causes him to turn back reflexively, eyes wide in shock. 

His eyes. God, please, won’t he recognize me? Your fingers close around his wrist a little more tightly. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is on fire. You’re wasting precious time. You only manage out a weak, “Please, Mark, it’s me,” before he’s twisting his wrist away. The arm that gripped your shirt moves to lock around your waist, and you’re hauled, empty-handed, away from the van. Awareness you’d lost slowly trickles back into you. The crowd isn’t screaming at the members now; they’re screaming at you. They’re angry. As you’re dragged away, you vaguely note that the Jaehyun fans you were with are fuming behind the security guards still keeping them in place. 

The security guard that carried you off like a rag doll plants you in front of him, and he lets go of your waist but still keeps his grip tight around both your forearms, which have been twisted behind you. You have no choice but to watch from afar as the members drag Mark into the van, looks of concern etched across their faces. They ask him if he’s hurt, and he shakes his head. Right before the door closes, he quickly glances back at you. Your heart sinks for the second time today as you see something in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

Fear. Mark is afraid of you.

[archivallyfound09]

All You Could Want (Baulder's Gate 3) pt. 1

Pairing: Raphael x reader (female), no y/n

Rating: Explicit (descriptive sex, cursing, mature themes)

Plot: Raphael is known for his deals. You were one of those deals. What happens when you become more than just a signature? What happens when others intrude on that relationship?

Drip drip drip…

You watched as the water slipped down to the tips of your fingers and hung for a millisecond, the dripping orb catching the light before it plummeted down into the warm water of the tub. The ripples from the drop joined the rest of the swirling water, the sounds all melding together as you dipped your hand in again and repeated the process.

It wasn’t unusual to find you lounging in the warm pool, but you were grateful that, thanks to some well-timed begging and a sly smile, you were able to convince him to change up the scenery a bit this time around. Where once long, heavy scarlett curtains had hung around the room now stood simple short muslin that blew in a fabricated breeze. The garish and overbearing gold gilding that surrounded the room had turned to blend into the ceiling, which now looked to reveal a seemingly endless blue sky. 

You smiled and closed your eyes, your nostrils immediately filling with the smell of sea air and sand- your favorite. You opened your eyes and saw a devilish grin on a man standing at the opposite end of the room, his eyes raking over your naked form. You tried to suppress the annoyance, but a bit eked out in your tone.

“I’m really in no mood for your nonsense today,” you opted to go with that instead of “bullshit”- you were trying to be nice in hopes that it would dismiss him faster and you could go back to enjoying your very fake, but very relaxing holiday. Unfortunately, Harleep was in the mood for games.

“My darling,” the incubus purred, the fake face he put on was that of the master of the house, “I just wanted to check and see how you were enjoying yo-”

“Harleep,” you interrupted firmly, placing your back against the side of the pool, your arms resting on either side of you, head lolled back on the edge, “As I said, I’m not in the mood.” You kept your eyes shut as you heard him tutting to himself. You could practically see him shaking his head back and forth, frustrated with your lack of interest in him but also enjoying the long game you seemed to be playing. What you weren’t anticipating was the sudden slamming of a door.

Your eyes snapped open only to find that the incubus that interrupted your paradise had vanished, slight sparkling flecks catching your eye, alerting you to his last location. You looked towards the door that had suddenly been thrown open and saw no one. It was then you barely heard his voice over the running water.

“Leave her alone, Harleep.”

The door then closed, no other words uttered. You swam to the otherside of the pool, some of the newly conjured greenery blocking your view from the door, hoping to get a glimpse of him. You felt your heart fall a bit as you realized he hadn’t even stepped foot into the room- he hadn’t looked your way or even spoken to you. You shook your head, trying to shake the disappointment from your thoughts, floating back and staring into the sky-like ceiling above you.

You weren’t exactly sure how long you had been floating, but the tiredness behind your eyes and the rumbling of your stomach finally became too much to ignore. You delicately stepped out of the pool, grabbing a luxuriously soft towel, beginning to dry off. As you stepped off the cool tile surrounding the pool, you noticed the rest of the room- the tile had turned to a plush soft carpeting, the muslin curtains now allowed in a scent of bergamot and raspberry as the view outside became a darkened night sky with twinkling stars catching through the thin fabric. On the far wall, there stood a soft lavish bed that was covered with an opalescent satin comforter, far less pillows on it than there were normally, but the details and needlework becoming clearer as you stepped closer.

A small package was on the foot of the bed- the red satin bow holding it shut was a stark contrast to everything surrounding you, but a strong reminder of where you were. You sighed, fingers that had just been playing with water drops now gently caressing the blood-red ribbon. You noticed that the overall light in the room had severely lowered, cueing your unconscious that it was time for bed (even if your stomach protested). You pulled on the ribbon and, as it unraveled, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar leap in your stomach as you saw the delicate dressing gown folded neatly inside.

Long enough to kiss the floor, you immediately disrobed and slipped into the stunningly sky blue dress, humming as the coolness of the dress touched your warmed skin. You couldn’t stop the quick spin you indulged in, your wet hair dripping slightly being the only reminder of your earlier escapades. You dried it as best you could, limbs heavy, but still determined to find some sustenance before heading to bed.

You approached the door that had been opened earlier with caution- you didn’t want to disturb anyone, but you also would have been lying if you said you hoped you weren’t going to get caught. 

The large door silently opened for you and you slipped out, the magic being sucked out of your lungs as you did so. The gloriously flowy blue dress turned red and matched the carpeting and wallpaper that now surrounded you in the hallway. The widows that adored the curved hallway only showed the ever storming red skies of Avernus. You smiled- of course it was only in your private area that this magic worked. 

You passed the library and gave a microscopic nod to the archivist, which he returned and then turned back to his work. Everyone in the House of Hope was decent to you- friendly was a bit of a stretch, especially considering this was literally Hell, but decent was all you were looking for. Your feet padded quietly around the eternal debtors, their dead eyes locked on everything except you, nothing but a lilting melody following you through the halls. 

Your hand came into contact with the ornate golden knob and as you pushed the door open, you casually glanced over your shoulder, spotting a sumptuous feast spread out across an intricate carved maple wood table. The large fireplace cast shadows all over the room, but the chairs, though empty, were pulled out from the feast. You thought about stepping towards it, but felt a soft breeze pushing you towards the kitchen changed your mind. 

You closed the door deftly behind you, startling a bit when you turned and saw Korilla staring at you. You gave her a kind smile and she rolled her eyes. You continued towards the cabinets, searching out something to quell your hunger, and were pleased to find some potato scones and a bottle of Calliyrran wine. You picked up the items and added them to a small nearby basket, wanting to take your modest feast back to your room. Korilla had stopped eyeing you as she ate some porridge-like substance out of a thick wooden bowl. You quietly observed the sadness and exhaustion on her face. 

As you started out the door, grabbing a few buns and pastries before you left, you looked at her once more, dark circles under her eyes and a blank stare that went through you. You reached into the basket and pulled out a small treacle tart, placing it next to her and offering her the smallest, but kindest smile you could muster. She looked down at the tart and then back up at you, the smile she offered barely reached her eyes. You nodded and headed back to your room, unsure of what to make of the interaction.

As you stepped inside with a half-eaten sunflower seed bun in your hand, you froze. The door closed silently behind you, but you felt a presence in the room. You thought about calling out at Harleep for trying to scare you, but something stopped your voice from escaping. You heard rustling near the pool at the other end of the room and quickly slipped into the shadows of one of the darkened alcoves near your bed. You gingerly placed the basket of food at your feet, the bun betwixt your fingers offering some type of moral support as your eyes scanned the room. 

“No one will be allowed in, except for you, pet,” you remember him saying, your memory chanting the words over and over again to try and dispel whomever or whatever was in the room. It was then that you saw them- a group of men, varying sizes and colors, skulking around your room. You felt the hot anger boil in your hands, this was your safe place to exist and thrive. The issue was- you weren’t exactly sure if you were upset with the intruders or him. 

Almost as quickly as you spotted them, they were gone. They had stuck their hands in your pool, commenting about ‘healing’ and ‘cold’; they had looked around and remarked about the long curtains and the iron windows. You looked around and saw nothing but your paradise- darkened blue sky littered with stars, plush carpeting, a white bed. You stepped out of the alcove and towards your bed, the basket now in hand, as you realized this was all to hide you.

You smiled at his ingenuity. He had promised to save you. He had promised to keep you safe. You were young, naive- but at least smart enough to know that he wanted something out of it. You remember the contract, you remember feeling your blood boil in your veins with anticipation and excitement as you watched his eyes light up as you signed. You remember him bringing you here- well, not exactly. You remember waking up here, the scars and bruises a faraway memory as your skin had completely healed itself, seemingly overnight. 

You smiled at the memories with nothing but fondness, slowly beginning to eat your feast and preparing for bed.

--------

A/N: MAN. It's been FOREVER. Enjoy and on to the next soon :)

[woneuntonzz]

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 2/5)

• part 1

• part 3

• part 4

• part 5

warning/s: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 2.8k words!!

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ description: student athlete!anton x studious class officer!reader | you swore to yourself, to you friends and even to your parents “I'm not one to easily fall.” and you thought you were that tough, not until him of course. [note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first ever post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

[Day 1]

A new day has come to greet you, but just like yesterday, you were once again lacking a few hours of sleep. You had your eyes closed, but you kept thinking about the endless possible scenarios that await you the next day. You were embarrassed to admit it, but you brought yourself to school with much anticipation, cause he had something to prove after all. 

When you got to school, you were expecting the same, empty and quiet classroom that always greeted you in the morning —being the first to arrive in your class all the time. When you unlocked the door however, you were instead met with Anton sitting in front of your desk with his back facing you. 

He turned to look at you and you were able to take a glimpse of why he was there and what he might be doing.

In front of him, resting on top of your desk, is a notebook and a few pieces of paper. You could see a blurry view of numbers, variables and equations.

“I just thought I should teach you the math lesson you missed last time —oh, and, good morning.” you smile at the shy little wave that followed his soothing voice.

“Good morning.” being your first time speaking since waking up this morning, your voice came out a little more mellow.

And it made Anton melt in his seat. He averted his eyes from you after realizing that you were looking right into his eyes just as how he looked into yours. He felt the blood rushing up to his cheeks as you got to your seat and sat down across from him. His eyes wandered all over your face. Somehow you seemed a lot more angelic under the early morning sunlight that lit up the classroom.

Anton tutored you all morning. There were times when you wouldn't understand what he's saying, partly because he's speaking a lot softer the whole time, and mostly because you were just that slow. You would lean in a bit and so would he, repeating what you claimed to not understand. Your faces eventually got close enough that you felt each other's breathing. It'd be a lie to say that Anton was not panicking on the inside, he definitely was, and you could tell.

He was pointing and writing with shaky hands and would stutter more than your fingers could count. Not only that, but you could see the tint on his cheeks. 

“D-did I say something funny?” he asked after hearing you chuckle.

“No, no. Sorry, it's just, I never knew you were into make up.” the look on Anton's face reflected his confusion.

“I am?” you bursted out laughing which only made him smile, face as hot as the day.

“Nice blush.” That's when he hurriedly hid his face in his hands. “Hey, hey, it's alright, I'm not judging.”

“I know, I —I'm just really extra self-conscious around you.” his voice was muffled by his hands pressed against his face.

Though you two were not able to notice, some of your classmates were paying great attention to the two of you, especially Anton's friends. They tried giving teasing looks towards Anton but failing to get a reaction or any signs of acknowledgement. You were right in front of him, talking, laughing, and listening to him teach you, why would he turn his attention to anyone else? He's been waiting for this moment ever since the first time he was made aware of his liking for you. 

“Is this… for me?” you asked hesitantly when he placed a cheese bread and canned coffee on your desk.

“Yeah —I just wasn't sure if you'd like it—”

“You're kidding.”

Anton slowly shook his head. “No?...”

“I always get these at the convenience store before going to school. I just don't have the energy to stop by there everyday anymore.” your voice shifted to a somber tone as you stared at the pillowy cheese bread which triggered Anton's worry for a bit until you spoke again. “Thank you! These are honestly my faves. I should really be more productive now. I need coffee so bad but I'm becoming too lazy these days to get some so I can't help but snooze around all day.”

Anton watched as you rambled on about how tiring school is, at this point, he had already finished teaching you and class was about to start in 10 minutes, but he was still there. At some point you stopped talking and he had his chin propped on his hand just staring at you, the whole scene was like one of the dramas you've watched before. The bell rang seconds later, and only then would Anton break out of his trance, being obliged to go back to his seat.

At lunch time, you remained seated on your seat, you were assigned by your teacher to collect and organize the activity sheets and bring it to her by lunch, and so you got started as soon as the clock hit 12:30. 

“Can I help you?” you look up immediately, and there he was, standing beside your seat. 

“Oh, you don't have to. Go have lunch.” you could still feel his presence towering over your seated figure.

It took him a minute to speak again. “I wanna have lunch with you, if that's okay.”

“Oh, yeah. But this might take a little longer—”

“Just continue, I'll be waiting for you right here.” he dragged a nearby chair next to yours and just sat there. 

You fumbled a bit, feeling his stare. You thought maybe it's just a feeling, you thought even if he liked you, you shouldn't assume things so easily. 

Anton watched as your hands delicately glided over the papers you were handling. He smiled to himself seeing the pout forming on your lips as you arranged the papers in alphabetical order of your classmate's surnames. He saw you misplace his paper, placing him before someone who's last name starts with 'h'.

“Hong goes before me. Sorry I just noticed that.” His voice was very low and subtle, almost a whisper.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” you hurriedly fixed the arrangement and continued with the rest.

You were able to finish before the 10-minute mark, Anton had offered to accompany you to the teacher's lounge to pass the papers.

Right after, you two went to the cafeteria walking alongside each other. The both of you were quiet, one was more nervous than the other, and when you both reached the cafeteria, Sohee and Xen's surprised eyes caught your attention right away. The couple grinned, exchanging looks. 

You walked behind Anton and lightly pushed him to the food queue. “Let's get some food, I'm so hungry.”

He was caught off guard with your action but maintained his composure as you continued to push him to the food queue. 

After getting your food, your attention was immediately called by Sohee. “Y/n-Ton! sit with us!”

Your eyebrows were knitted, while also holding in a laugh with how cringey Sohee's ship name for you and Anton is. Meanwhile, the tall figure that was walking with you towards Xen and Sohee was smiling the entire time, embracing the color in his cheeks that he always struggled hiding. 

The moment the two of you sat down, the pair sitting from across started firing at you with questions.

“What were you two doing in the classroom?” Sohee started.

“You two were in there for a while huh?” Xen was quick to add to Sohee's probing. 

You started to continuously tap the table with the end of your spoon. “I was fixing up our class' activity papers!”

“Yeah? and Anton?” Xen's gaze went from you to Anton.

The beat that vibrated throughout the table you occupied stopped, enclosing your spoon with your grip holding it still and up sturdy. You looked over to Anton, only turning your head slightly, just enough to see his rosy face.

“Oh, I was just —you know. Waiting… for her.” after the last words that fell from his mouth, he looked over to you, right into your eyes.

You quickly looked away after a very short while, afraid that the feeling you caught from his shy but sweet gesture will start showing through your face.

The remainder of lunch time went on with the two of you exchanging glances from time to time while the couple in front of you kept babbling on and bickering a little, you occasionally joining in on the conversation. 

The rest of the day was like the usual, but you felt a bit more… willing —willing to let a little loose with taking notes, willing to let yourself be distracted with the design imprinted on your 4 year-old mechanical pencil, willing to stare at your teacher with nothing but passive listening —willingly choosing to briefly meet eyes with Anton from time to time. 

You never saw Anton the same way he supposedly saw you. To you he was just that one guy in class, and sure, he wasn't as noisy or as annoying as the other guys in your class; his friends, but you were certain that he wasn't worth your attention. But then here you are, giving him the focus you had always reserved for class. Was it because he kissed you? No. It was just a stupid peck, kind of childish too. —you thought to yourself. But then you recalled the feeling, it was irresistible. You've never considered yourself as the 'in-denial' type of person, but now you couldn't even hold back the thought. What if Sohee and Xen didn't arrive to put a stop to the strong desire radiating from the both of you? The longing desire to come back for more.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You fixed yourself up to a poise state, finally focusing in class. 

Anton eyed you the entire time your mind was going in a whirl. He wanted to know what you were thinking about, but he knew he was still far from getting there. However, like in every swimming tournament he's competed in, he's determined to give it his all.

————— ୨୧ —————

You sat at the edge of your bed, just staring at your shoes. You were still in your school uniform, thinking about how Anton had chased you down the hallway just before you stepped out the classroom to give you another pack of cheese bread. 

“I won't be around tomorrow for training, but I'll message you! If that's fine with you.” 

You had no idea why you felt so down to hear that from him. It wasn't like he's the only one you knew in school, you had quite a handful of friends, and your classmates were pretty fond of you too. 

You rubbed the sides of your shoes against each other, your head hanging low as you felt your eyes get heavier and heavier. You stood up from your bed after taking a quick glance at the clock that read 7:08pm. You stood up, turning around to face your bed. You went around to get your pajamas at your towel, then your phone that soundlessly rested on your bed lit up. You were able to immediately make up the brachiosaurus emoji from a distance. You held your phone in your hand, staring at the notification of Anton's message on your lockscreen. You sighed. You had stuck a mental note to your brain ages ago, no matter what, choose yourself before choosing others.

You got over the fleeting excitement that rushed over you. You waited for your phone to turn itself off before placing it back down to where it was and heading to the bathroom. Your trip to the bathroom, though would've usually taken you about an hour to get out of, ended quicker than you thought. The next thing you know, you were laying on your stomach, elbows pressed on the mattress, phone in hand. You opened Line as fast as you could blink. 

A low chuckle escapes your throat as your feet kick themselves up into the air.

Anton is wide awake as soon as he feels his phone vibrate in his hands. He had been waiting for your response. He was laying flat on his back with one of his hands resting on his chest, and the other holding his phone, extended to the other end of the bed. For a good minute he thought you might never reply, or worse, you might message him dry. But his apprehensions were refuted once he received your replies. 

Once he did see your message though, he was unable to contain a small laugh, painting a permanent smile on his face, the same smile he always wore whenever he thought about you.

Contrary to how you appeared in chat, you were all smiles, kicking your feet up into the air like a child. 

Even with his whimsy message, you couldn't help but expect something. You didn't want to be so sure of exactly what it is you were expecting, but your eyes were heavily fixated on your phone screen so much so that anyone who saw you at the moment might think you were trying to burn out your vision.

Anton bit his lip, growing more and more anxious as the time ran, and so he fumbled around quickly following his last message with a rather pathetic attempt to sweep everything under the rug.

Anton bit his lip a bit harder at your response, chuckling and blushing so hard that If anyone ever saw him like this he would self-isolate forever and create his own post-apocalyptic reality.

You just felt so genuinely happy, so touched that he invited you to watch him swim. Technically, anyone could walk in and watch him without his invitation or not much as asking him, but you just felt so special. For once, you felt wanted. He wanted you to be there for him. Notwithstanding his cheesy pick-up line, your body never lies, and your cheeks are enough to tell you Anton's got you again. 

Usually you would subside these feelings with eccentric responses, but this time, you couldn't 

Anton grew a bit worried when you were taking a while to respond. He didn't know whether his sappiness had a bad or good effect on you, heck, he wasn't sure if it did anything at all. Worse case scenario is you would leave him on read.

His smile would only grow wider at your response.

At this point, for you, somehow you just didn't want to give in just yet. If Anton was a book, you have only read two pages, and that's the title page and the table of contents. And so you quickly got over mutual tension being encapsulated in your phone screens. 

Anton's smile drooped down, but was instantly replaced with a straight wide line paired with bulging eyes. His friends had always jokingly told him he was cute, teasing him all the time, him never hearing the end of it. He just was never able to tell when it's just teasing and when it's just a genuine compliment.

He suddenly lost his ability to be able to come up with quick and masked replies.

It was true. You thought if he had to make your heart flutter, why not do the same for him?

As if you aren't enough to make his heart jump out of his chest.

You had to take a breather. You thought you were being crazy, feeling so moved by the bare minimum. They're all just words, for all you know there might be no real thoughts behind them at all.

You released a breathy titter, moving yourself to a more comfortable position as you felt like this conversation wasn't ending just yet. You didn't want it to.

Anton was very observant, when it came to you at least. He couldn't miss a single thing about you that's wide open for him to write in his personal journal he had created in his mind, one that he made only for you.

When you made your ant joke, Anton let out a “pfft!” suppressing the laughter threatening to escape his mouth. He pursed his lips, beaming with adoration even with how corny and unfunny you were.

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when he calls you adorable, hiding yourself under the covers as you squirm your legs around like a child throwing tantrums.

You thought you were being way too ridiculous, feeling as if your reaction was unjust.

“what am I winning?”

my heart lol —you quickly erased what you had previously typed on your keyboard. You pressed your palm against your cheek, squishing it until you were able to regain your sanity.

Whilst Anton was waiting for your reply, his heartbeat increased significantly and he feared he might just collapse.

The conversation ended after a while and it left Anton smiling as he turned off his phone. He felt a bit ashamed to expect more from you, that he would be able to catch a glimpse of how he made you feel, but this was just the beginning. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[poetryandfluffycats]

Hii i saw your requests were open!!!

Ik that you mostly do nsfw but can you possibly do reader x chiaki (hurt/comfort) where reader is very cheery but is actually very depressed...

A/N: 1.7k worth of angst WOOHOO enjoy

Pairing: Chiaki Morisawa x fem!reader

Content: You've never felt happy, really. Your whole life has felt like an endless winter night you couldn't escape from. But, no one else needed to know that, and a little pretending never hurt anyone. Right?

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of suicidal thoughts(nothing graphic), descriptions of severe depression, bedrotting implied, self doubt, depressed reader, flash back scene in italics

Words: 1.7k

Oneshot under cut!

The bedroom was cold. Cold like a thick sheet of snow that blocked cars out on the road, unbearable and undeniable like the first chills of Autumn after summer ends. It wasn't that breeze that was the issue, however, in all reality that should be expected in the dead of winter when the birds huddled away in their nests and the clouds covered the sky with their dreadful greyness. What you felt was beyond the weather. It was something more, something you felt like you couldn't explain with the words you knew.

It almost felt like there was something cold within you, maybe a hole in your heart being filled with frost each time you tired to think, speak, or do anything that wasn't rotting away in this room, in this bed that couldn't warm you up no matter how many blankets were placed on top. Because the cold of the room would pass in months time, but this, the ice in your heart making you numb would never melt. And you just had to deal with that until you eventually froze over.

That wasn't fair, was it? Most people got to live a happy life without all this pain and grief, they lived for years with a bright yellow aura of happiness around them, so why not you? Who said you weren't allowed to be happy like them?

So much as you were sad, you were stubborn too. If everyone else got to be happy then so would you, damn the aching pain consuming your body on a 24/7 biases. That's where pretending came in.

/-------

"Chiaki! Baby, look at those puppies! Aren't they just the cutest, look at those tiny ears! Ah, and their tiny noses!" You squealed, bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you tugged the taller man towards the storefront window, tapping at the glass as if he couldn't see the balls of fluff running around.

Okay, you would admit, maybe the act was a bit much. The smile you put on was so forced it hurt your cheeks and your voice was so high pitched you sounded like a broken dog toy-one like the ones the puppies in the store were digging into. But Chiaki was none the wiser, the smile he wore mirroring your fake one and the sparkle in his eyes nothing but genuine. He loved you like this, a cheerful, excitable ball of sunshine who believed in the world and was full of love for him.

You didn't want to imagine how he'd react if he realised you'd been lying this whole time, putting on a front to keep him happy. He'd leave for sure, who wanted a sad sack of a woman dragging them down?

Chiaki let out a soft chuckle, slinging a arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. "They are pretty cute, aren't they?" He leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your temple, the action causing a hot red flush to your face. "But not as cute as you, wahaha!~"

Your large fake smile quickly twisted into that of a real one, something that you quickly hid by bringing your hand up to cover the bottom half of your face. The man never failed to make your ice-cold heart skip a beat, even if it were only for a few milliseconds. It was nice to feel that way.

"Aw, stop it!" You whined, playfully slapping him on the chest and snuggling into his side. "Don't act so cringe, people will start to think we're one of those weird couples always on each other!"

"I think I'm being romantic, have you know!" He huffed, feigning a hurt expression on his face. "I have such a mean girlfriend, you wound me my love"

"Don't be sad! Hmm, maybe we should go play with those puppies to make you feel better?"

Don't be sad. The words felt funny coming out of your mouth, like you weren't really the one saying it. You weren't, were you? This front you were putting up wasn't you at all. The real one who needed to hear 'don't be sad' was you.

No, no! That wasn't supposed to be the point of all this. The point was to be normal, to live a normal life despite your inner darkness. You didn't expect pity or comfort, that's what a selfish person would want. Or maybe it wasn't, and maybe you were selfish for thinking that. Wallowing in your own self-doubt never did you much good, not when you were meant to be the happiest woman in the world right now.

Chiakis beaming voice is what broke you out of your small trance. "We don't have much else to do today, so why not? You really are the best for suggesting these things"

You weren't.

/------

What a sad scrum of the earth you were. That date had only been a day ago, and yet you had already fallen back into the deepest pit of your depression that you tried so hard to conceal. The reason? Who knew, not you, that's for sure.

Faking to be happy took so much out of you, almost as if the mere idea of having any emotion other than the dread you had been living with made you weak. How pathetic was that?

The same four walls of your plain one-bedroom apartment stared down at you, taunting you like a sleep paralysis demon. The TV flickered with bright colours and images in the corner, all a blob of nonsense in your tear filled eyes, and an array of dirtied issues, empty take-out boxes and plates with food long taken out by mice and files littered the floor. Your bed might as well have been your coffin, because if you were to stay here much longer you would surely die.

That had been on your mind a lot, death. If it was here it might be peaceful, as peaceful as rotting away in your own filth could be. Your heart felt like it had been beating slower lately, perhaps a sign of premature death?

"(name)?...."

The voice was distant, but definitely there. A mans voice, soft and sweet, calling your name and beckoning you to follow. Oh, was this finally the end? Had the grim reaper come to collect your soul?

"(name)? Can you hear me?"

The mattress dipped beside you, a strong pair of arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you in. The body felt warm against your own, almost comforting as its hand reached out to stroke your cheek, wiping away the tears that had dried there. Whoever this was, they smelt nice. Like home, like a place far away from here.

"Please talk to me" The voice was louder now, whispering directly in your ear. It sounded so worried, pained, like how you felt inside.

"(name), its me baby, its me. Please say something"

Baby? Who called you baby? The grim reaper wouldn't call you baby... who would call you baby when you were in the state that you were in. Who-

Chiaki.

Chiaki was there, in your room, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you'd break if he squeezed too tight or spoke too loud. It didn't make sense. How'd he even get in? Had you been so intoxicated by your own delusions of death you hadn't noticed him?

You lifted your head ever so slightly, only to have it droop back down as soon as you got it up. Weak as you were, you still felt a pang of embarrassment course through your veins. "What are you... why are you.. huh?"

"Oh thank goodness" The man beside you sighed, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks. "I was so worried, you weren't answering any of my calls and-and I thought I had done something wrong" Chiaki sniffled before continuing. "And then I get here and you're completely unresponsive! I thought you had... had.."

Had died.

"I wanted to"

There was silence for a second, and it was only then that you realised he was crying. Sobbing, even. Because of you, the great and cheerful Chiaki Morisawa was shedding actual tears. His tears weren't something you deserved, you didn't think you deserved much really, but he still gave them to you.

"No, don't ever say that, don't ever think like that! Is it something I did? I want to fix this, please let me help you" He pleaded with you, the broken sound of his voice making your heart shatter into million pieces. "I love you, I love you, I love you so so much (name)"

His hand travelled down to interlock with your own, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your palm. He wasn't only trying to calm you, but himself as well, you could tell by the way his body shook and his voice trembled. "I love you, can you not see that?"

Several tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your face and staining into the bed sheets. "I know"

"Then why?"

"Because I... I don't deserve you! I'm a mess, look at me! I'm a loser, I can't even pretend to be happy. You don't want that, you want someone who's not fucked up in the head"

You weren't looking at Chiaki, but you didn't need to to see the frown on his face. Not an angry one, but one that said he was hurt, disappointed in himself. His voice all but confirmed it. "I'm not a child, I know what I want, and I want you. Forever and ever"

"You don't mean that-"

"Yes I do!" His voice suddenly raised an occtive, the hand that was previously holding yours moving to cup your chin, forcing your head upwards to look him in the eye. God, those eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I'm going to be with you through this, through the worst of it, through the best of it. I know what its like to feel like the whole world is out for you, and I'm not leaving you alone. Not unless you throw me out the damn window" He leaned in, pressing a small but meaningful kiss to your lips. "I'm supposed to be a hero, so let me be one for you. Please"

And for the first time in a long while, you felt something warm fill that hole in your heart.

[anthemofgvf]

Endless Summer: Josh Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

Part Five

description: you and sammy have been best friends since you were kids, and being around his family was the norm your entire life. when invited to a trip to their family lake house during the summer, you find yourself spending more time with his brother than your best friend. and, one thing has been clear your entire friendship: brothers are off limits.

warnings for this series: alcohol and marijuana usage, explicit content (18+, minors dni), angst, swearing

word count: 10k+

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The bed creaked beside you. The noise that awoke you from your sleep had you groaning from the sudden movements. The sun had barely rose and shined into your room, so you could only assume it was just after dawn. It didn't help that you got back late last night from your trip with Josh.

"Sam, it's fucking early. What are you-."

"Sam?" Josh spoke, and you rotated your body quickly towards him. "I'm a bit jealous he's the first person that's on your mind."

He was sitting on his side, his hand holding him up with the other resting on top of his thigh. His chest was bare, with his briefs hugging lowly at his hips.

You looked up to him with a smile. "He likes to wake me up in the morning. Not this early, though," you let your eyelids rest half-shut, "surprised to see you awake."

"All for the benefit of seeing you." His hand that sat on top of his thigh raised to your head, running his fingertips along the side of your face.

"How nice of you to ruin my sleep." You turned your face into his touch and pressed your lips on the side of his hands.

A playful yet coy smirk curled onto his lips. "I'm good with romantic gestures."

He situated himself under the sheets and turned his body facing towards you as he pulled you into his body. He had an arm wrapped under you and his other unoccupied hand running over the features of your face: your forehead, your eyebrows, your nose. You watched his eyes flick on each feature his pointer and middle finger grazed over. A light smile appeared on his face with his intent, admirable focus.

His eyes scanned your face. Although the fell for just a moment to your parted lips, he locked them onto you as he spoke. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

"My hair's a mess and my breath probably smells like shit. Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes with a huffed laugh. He matched your laugh and pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, then smiled into your lips.

"I mean it. You always are." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You allowed yourself a few beats to replay the words that slipped out of his mouth. He was perfection in human form. You were thankful that the world was quiet, and you only could hear the soft breaths that left and entered his nostrils. It gave you the opportunity to remember how his hands felt against your back and caressed your face delicately. How his face was perfect art, sculpted with precision from his cheekbones to the cupid's bow on his top lip. Too good to be true, you thought.

Your cheeks began to burn lightly as the corners of your lips downturned into the smile only he ever produced from you. "Shut up."

He hummed into your lips, cradling your face in his hand and tugging you closer into his figure. You fully melted your body into his own and let your hand trail onto his chest. He was toned, skin smooth under your touch. Your other hand had maneuvered its way into his hair and tightened your grip on the back of his head as you tugged on his soft curls.

A light groan from Josh vibrated on your lips with his hand trailing from your face to your shoulder, then your waist. You felt the pads of his fingers dig into the plush skin at your hip and rolled them into his own, as if you two could be more combined.

"Josh?" You mumbled into his lips, planting another kiss.

"Hm?"

"We need to talk about what we're going to do about Sam." You sighed and watched his smile falter.

"Well," he began with a deep exhale, "just got to keep this a secret for a while until we feel it's right to tell him."

"And when's that going to be? I don't mean to ruin the moment and all of that, but he's still my best friend, Josh. And he's your brother."

Josh pressed his lips together with a quiet nod. He thought for a moment, then gave you a shrug with the tilt of his head. "If we're discussing the logistics of this whole thing, I really don't have it figured out. Kind of just let my feelings take their course and assumed I'd have it all figured out soon enough." He gave you a toothy, comical grin. "But I still feel bad that we're, in a sense, betraying Sam's trust."

"So do I." You stated with a frown. "It's irritating enough that we have to dance around him for the time being, and I can't help but get anxious about it. But we knew what we were getting ourselves into when we decided to ruin the friendship."

You couldn't ignore the guilt you felt, with Josh laying close to you in your bed and Sam being in the next room over. After all, you knew getting yourself tied into this would mean that you'd have to work up the courage to tell your best friend that you had found yourself falling in love with his brother, and his brother reciprocated those feelings. You didn't want to stop seeing him, especially since your guys' relationship had just started. But there needed to be some sort of plan set in motion to tell Sam, at least just so you knew that your best friend wasn't out of the loop for an eternity.

He nodded at your words with understanding. "I can assure you that he'll know by the end of the trip, whether that calls for a few uncomfortable days until we leave, or a quiet car ride." He shrugged his shoulders with a light laugh. He didn't seem to have any worry in mind with this. It helped you feel a bit more at ease, and you were glad he was able to balance you out.

With quick math circulating in your head, you found out that gave you two and a half more weeks of sneaking around with him. It wasn't ideal to wait that long, yet again you could only hope that Sam would eventually figure it out and then silently agree to not discuss it but allow it. That wasn't how your best friend worked, though. Even if he didn't like confrontation, he couldn't leave something lingering in the air that upset him. He'd end up combusting with anger and release all that build up tension by yelling at whoever was the first unfortunate victim to step foot in his circle.

But, for now, you just let the worrying run from your mind with a deep sigh and a nod of your head. You just wanted to forget about it and live in this moment that you were granted. That was all you could do if you wanted to allow yourself to be content with your choices, rather than feel guilty.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead with your face cupped into his palms. He rotated to lay flat on his back, inviting you into his arms to allow you to sprawl out on top of him and melt into each other's embrace.

You both rested on your bed together and watched the sun rise, begging your eyes to stay open. You ended up moving your head to where his heart rested under his skin. The beating of the organ was like music to your ears, only slightly faster than a normal rate. It was sweet that his heart raced a bit when you were next to him. It made you feel comforted knowing that the rate matched yours.

"You know what we're doing today?" Josh spoke to you.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, with his chin tilted down to see your face. "Nope. We didn't talk about it yesterday. Probably head down to the lake or something, I don't know," you looked at him quizzically, "do you have any ideas in mind?"

"Stay in bed with you." He smirked, running his hand under your chin and pulling your head up just enough so he could place a light kiss on your forehead.

"Ha, ha. As much as I would like that, we are going to have to act like friends for the majority of the day and you know that." You tapped at his chest as you brought yourself up.

He had his hands behind his head now, his head tilting to the side to watch your movements. You stayed sat beside him only for a moment before standing up and walking over to your bedroom with your arms extended into the air in a stretch.

"Green's one of my favorite colors." He said from your bed, and you turned back to him in confusion. With the quick realization that he had noticed the color of your underwear, you tugged at the bottom of your shirt and felt your cheeks flushing pink.

"Glad I found that out because you were staring at my ass." You giggled.

"Sorry." He shrugged with his fake apology. "You were staring at my briefs the other day, so we'll call it even."

He didn't have to tell you he admired your body. His eyes told you. He wouldn't stop watching you with every chance he got and just looking at you in adoration. And in this case, he got a bit more of a peak at what lied under your baggy t-shirt.

"I'm taking a shower, alright. I expect you to show yourself out." You pointed towards the door.

"Kicking me out already?" He stood up from your bed and made his way over to you.

"You forget Sam's in the next room. As much as I'd like you to stay, I don't think I want my best friend waking up to seeing you leave my room."

"You make a good point." He cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips on yours. "I'll see you in a bit."

Before he left, he peaked down the hallway left and right, and exited quietly.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

After your shower, you quickly got yourself ready for the day, throwing on a loose tank top that barely masked your bra underneath, along with a pair of denim shorts. Lacing your eyelashes with a coat of mascara and finishing up your morning routine by blow-drying your hair, you walked downstairs to greet the boys for the day.

You noticed Jake crouched near the TV in the living room. He was searching through the multiple DVD's that filled the shelves that sat by the television, and you chose to see what the only Kiszka in the room was doing.

"Hey." He acknowledged you with a light smile and sitting down crisscross.

"Hey. Looking through the movies?" You pointed towards the cases of DVD's.

"Yeah. Sam mentioned that we should do a movie night, so here I am searching through the movies to find something everyone will enjoy." He sighed with a scratch at the top of his scalp. "Everyone has different tastes. I don't really care what we watch, but I know they have strong opinions."

"How about a classic?" You join him on the floor, picking out a movie you've watched with them before at their house in high school.

"Huh," he took the movie from your hands and smirked at the cover. "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Forgot we had this here. You know this is one of my favorite movies, right?" His eyes flicked onto you.

"I remember us watching it in high school and you non-stop talking about how the movie is a 'cinematic masterpiece'. Never really was my thing, but hey, you should get the choice of the movie, right?" You nodded your head towards the move and gave him a smile.

"Surprised you didn't pick one of Sam's or Josh's favorite movies," he shrugged, "did you see Josh last night again?"

You turned around quickly to confirm Sam wasn't in sight. He was bold enough to be talking so freely to speak about you seeing Josh nightly without seeing if your best friend was around.

"You know the answer to that. Josh told me you'd 'cover for us' if Sam asked you where we were," you had your voice lowered and rolled your eyes with a laugh, "but yeah, we had a good time."

"Ah, I see." He smirked at you, putting the movie on the cabinet that laid under the TV.

"Why are you smiling at me like that? Were you told anything last night?" You pulled your eyebrows together.

"Movie marathon?" Josh entered the living room and stood in his doorway, leaning onto it with crossed arms and flicking his eyes between you and Jake.

"Sam mentioned that I should pick out a few movies tonight. Said it's going to rain tonight so we should skip the fire and stay inside." He spoke to his brother. All Josh gave him was a nod, then Jake curled his lips into a knowing smile. You had quickly noticed their smiles had matched, whipping your head between them with a confused look.

"You guys are immature, you know that?" You stood up with a grunt and chose to find Sam and ignore their playful smirks that told you Jake knew everything.

You weren't surprised that Jake knew of the events of last night, but you were a little annoyed that he was in the loop. You were hopeful that Jake could keep his mouth shut and stop the childish smiles towards his brother and you to keep Sam's suspicions low. Jake was notorious for making sly comments that had underlying meanings, so being fearful he'd make one about you in Josh in front of your best friend was a normal thought running through your head as you walked up the stairs into Sam's bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest once you knocked on your friend's bedroom door, waiting for him to let you in and greet you with a kind smile. It was hard to face Sam after starting a relationship with his brother behind his back, especially keeping it from him when you've never not told him about a secret for many years. He was your closest friend, and after all, he was someone that could be there for you for anything. But this was something that would take time to speak up about.

"Everyone downstairs?" He rustled his hair with a towel, dropping it to the floor and closing a few drawers he had left opened from picking out his outfit for the day.

"Yeah, I helped Jake pick out a movie and I think Josh is picking a movie himself. Maybe you should get down there to voice your opinion." You watched him neatly make his bed and walk over to his towel he left on the floor.

"Don't tell me Jake picked that boring cowboy movie." He looked at you with a sigh.

"It'll help us fall asleep; don't you think?" You smirked and prompted a laugh from him. "Did you want to head down to the lake today? Don't think we have anything else going on today."

He gave you a silent nod, walking past you and entering the bathroom that stood between you and his bedroom.

"Just us?" He ran his toothbrush under the running sink, painting the bristles with toothpaste and shoving it into his mouth.

"Can be. Or we can choose not to be selfish and invite your brothers." You cocked your head to the side. His eyes flicked to you as he stopped his motions, then continuing brushing his teeth and ignoring your statement.

Spitting into the sink and finishing cleaning his teeth, he set the toothbrush into the circular, clear container that sat by the sink and turned to you with crossed arms. "If that's what you want."

"I think they would appreciate the invitation. They might choose not to go, you know? Maybe go on their own twin adventure and leave us alone." You sighed, watching him scoff and shake his head.

"That would be nice, but they'll want to join us. They enjoy your company more than you think." He pointed at you with a light smirk.

Your cheeks had flushed to a light pink, your ears burning as the thought of Josh crept into your mind. His words were a possible reference of Josh's crush on you that he thought was over and done with. It was becoming increasingly hard to stand there and not admit that you knew his words to be true. Guilt riddled and bubbled in the pit of your stomach as his smile faltered, eyes falling to the floor and his hands bracing his weight on the counter behind him. It's not that he knew of anything other than what he was told, but the thought of you getting along better with his brothers had a hint of jealousy sprouting into his mind.

You didn't want to mention nor acknowledge his comment. You didn't want to act clueless to his words, because after all, he could tell when you were lying or playing dumb. He could read you like a book, as he always has been able to for as long as you two have been friends. It didn't help that your entire face was now a different shade than its normal state, and your eyes flicked to the floor to avoid his eyes. You just hoped he wouldn't question the flush in your cheeks, or the change in your demeanor.

"Whatever. Just go ask them what they're doing and invite them to the lake with us. We can leave in 10, alright?" He gave you a light nod towards the hallway with the smallest hint of a smile, turning away from you and continuing his morning routine.

You met the twins downstairs who were conversing over breakfast, sat on the swivel chairs that lined the island in the kitchen.

“Sam almost ready?” Josh's eyes flicked up to you from where you stood across from them, and you gave him a quiet nod.

"We're heading to the lake for a few, if you guys want to join us." You shrugged and folded your hands together, resting them on top of the counter.

"Sounds fun. Soak up the summer sun before it's ruined by the rain." Josh gave you a confident nod and walked over to you, setting his plate into the sink. "I assume inviting us was your idea."

"Yeah, I can't tell if he's going back to being jealous I've gotten closer with the both of you or just wanting to spend some time away from you guys."

"Maybe both." Jake chimed in with a shrug. "Think you've gotten the closest with Josh during this trip more than anything."

Josh huffed a laugh with a toothy grin, looking to see your face contort into slight frustration.

"Better stop making those kinds of comments before Sam catches on." You leaned towards Jake and lowered your voice, flicking your eyes to the stairs to see no sight of Sam, then returning your gaze to Jake. "I know Josh isn't too good at keeping secrets, but I expect you to be."

"I'm standing right here!" Josh placed his hand on your back and leaned in next to you. "I'll keep my lips locked about this secret for the time being. It's a different kind of secret, y/n."

"Yeah, yet you choose to tell Jake who always has that smug look on his face when he looks at us." You motion towards Jake, then meet Josh's eyes, realizing his face was closer to yours than you remembered.

"He'll keep his ass in line, won't you brother?" Josh looked at his twin, and Jake pretended to zip his lips and flick a key off to the side. Josh then scanned your lips and smiled at you, although you were wearing a face of worry. "I knew what the risks were when I started this," he lowered his voice, "and I'm not going to ruin anything, nor let anyone ruin it. You don't have anything to worry about, alright?"

You sighed, looking over to Jake, then above his head to the empty stairs where Sam had yet to appear walking down. You whipped your head back to Josh and nodded with a tight-lipped smile, and he pressed a quick, light kiss onto your cheek and walking away from you before you had any objection to push him off of you in fear Sam would magically appear to view the sight. Jake just widened his eyes playfully, tossing his plate into the sink and venturing off into his room behind his brother. A deep sigh escaped your lips, and you rolled your eyes and left to change into your swimsuit.

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The day at the lake was relaxing, taking a few turns jumping off the short cliff into the salty waters. You remember your fear of leaping from large heights when you first arrived here, but now, that anxiety that riddled in your stomach had melted away. It had helped that you were joined by one of the boys each time you made the journey up the cliff, or that Josh would hold you into his body and seemingly dangle you in front of Sam, and your best friend didn't realize what exactly he was doing. The innocent handholding, Josh's-soaked body pressed against yours. Sam had disregarded that as Josh taking initiative to help you down the cliff just as he did many times. But he didn't know you were no longer scared of the height.

Josh would watch Sam and Jake splash each other from above in the lake. His lips would press to your ear and whisper something, sentimental or a bit risky. Goosebumps raised from your spine to the back of your neck, with thin hairs raising with each breath from Josh's nose that hit your delicate skin. It was hard to see what he was saying to you from the water, and that's why he said whatever came to his mind just to see if you could compose yourself.

So, when you two had jumped into the water a final time, Sam had swum over to you as Josh stayed at the opposite side from you. Jake floated in front of you three, a mere bystander to whatever could unfold from the two of them at your sides.

He dove deeper into what the movie marathon would consist of that night, saying that other than Jake's pick, he chose The Lost Boys, knowing it was one of your favorites, and Josh had yet to decide. He was always indecisive when it came to that sort of thing. But he just told the both of you that whatever movie you chose was fine, so Sam took that opportunity to pick another movie out for the night.

Jake had pulled Sam with him to the store to buy the necessities for the night, such as snacks and too much popcorn for the four of you. You knew Josh was behind the whole plan, because Sam would've insisted on bringing you along with and leaving Jake behind at the house with Josh. But they had left when you were taking a shower, so Sam didn't have much of a choice in who would be brought along on the short trip.

You exited your bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp body as you searched your drawers for comfortable clothes to wear. A few knocks hit your door, and you notified Josh that he could come in as you picked out a pair of loose shorts, underwear and a tank top.

"Hey." He walked over to you with a smile and ran his hands from your back to your shoulders.

"Sam still out with Jake?" You placed your clothes on top of your dresser and turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Jake told he he'd text me when they're on their way, and I haven't gotten any notifications yet, so, yeah." He shrugged.

His lips pressed onto yours only for a second as his hands ran down to your hips. He admired the sight that you were bare underneath the towel that enclosed your body, and that idea alone had his heart beating more rapid than usual.

"Still surprised Sam hasn't caught onto anything. I know it's only been a day, but he's surprisingly good with reading me."

He nodded at your words. Bringing his hands up to your face and tugging your face closer to his, he said, "I'm not too surprised. Sometimes, he's just oblivious to everything. But, hey, gives us more time to get a bit creative with how we're going to be secretive about this."

He slotted his lips with yours and hummed a pleasured tune. You found one of your hands tangling into his hair, the other cupping his cheek. He had fully pressed you against your dresser with his front pressed into your own. You could feel his hips grinding into you slowly, as if he was experimenting with the movement since it was foreign to do with you. But you didn't stop it, in fact, you encouraged it.

You had one leg hooked around his waist and he held your thigh with a tight grip that had you groaning against his lips. The taste of his tongue laced in your mouth was enough to crave more from him. All you could feel was the pressure his fingertips had on your skin, the way he held you tightly to him and slowly grinded his hips between your thighs into your center. Although you weren't quite exposed to him, you could consider yourself that way, since your towel was seconds away from slipping off of you.

Quick thoughts of this being too soon came rushing into your head. You both seemed to have wanted the same thing, but unsure of when the right time would be. There was pent up tension between you two, after the flirtatious nights that led up to this very moment, after finally being with each other with years to make up because you two had finally given in to your feelings. But, although you have known Josh for such a long time, you hadn't known him like this. It hadn't even been 48 hours, yet you wanted to move things along quickly. Was it even a necessary worry when you've known him for most of your life, anyways?

You pulled your lips from him with a final kiss and chose to rest your forehead onto his. The way yours and his's breaths were inconsistent and deep was reminiscent of the night you first kissed, which had your lips curling down into a crooked smile and admiring the features on his face one more.

"Are you going to let me change, Josh?" You ran your fingers along his jaw.

His mouth parted and found your fingers with his mouth, pressing light kisses onto the pads of each one. "Yeah, sorry. Got a bit carried away."

You huffed a laugh at his words and patted his cheek. He stepped back a few inches from you, enough to give you room to move, and you grabbed the clothes that had sat next to you on the dresser and walked over to your bathroom for privacy.

You slipped into your clothes, ditching a bra and tying the waistband of your dusty yellow shorts as you walked out of the bathroom and seeing Josh standing at the dresser still. His eyes were focused on the turquoise necklace that you bought the other day, examining it in his hands and turning to you with a light smirk.

"Did you want me to wear that?" You motioned your pointer finger towards his hand that clutched the necklace.

"Course I do." He said.

He walked over to you and swiveled his pointer finger in a circular motion. In return, you turned your back on him and lifted your hair as he put the necklace on you. With a few moments passing and he clasped the beads together, he pressed a light kiss on your neck, then trailed down to your bare shoulders. You hummed from the light friction of him pulling your back onto his chest.

He seemed to love sentimental, light touches that had you at a loss for words. His fingers traveling down the sides of your arms, his hands finding their place at your hips and thumbing the bone that laid underneath the skin. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a slow kiss onto your cheek, then starting the routine of trailing his lips from your jaw to your neck, and softly sucking right above your collarbone.

You tugged at his hair, wishing you could leave his lips with their own mind but having to resist.

"As much as I really enjoy this, you can't leave hickeys where they can be seen."

He lifted his lips to your ear with a soft chuckle. "Is that you telling me to put my mouth somewhere different, y/n?" He whispered lowly.

You weren't sure what to say, because as much as you wanted this, you were still fearful that Sam and Jake would arrive home and forget to notify Josh. But, with his hands falling to your thighs, and the deep exhales that closely resembled whimpers, you wanted to forget about the two people that stayed resident in the house for the time being.

"When will they be back?" Your head fall back and looked at him with hooded eyes.

"Dunno. Can call them and ask, if you want?"

You nodded, and he patted your sides as he moved himself from you, digging his phone of out his short pockets and shooting Jake a text.

You sat on your bed and watched as he focused on his phone screen. He had a light smile on his face, putting his phone back in his side pocket and coming over to you on the bed.

"They're leaving the store now. Jake said he'd call me when they were pulling in." He wrapped his arm behind your back and tugged you closer to his body.

"Takes about five minutes for them to get here, right?" You looked up to him.

"Closer to ten, but sure." He smiled at you and placed a light kiss onto your forehead.

"Even longer." You drawled out your words, picking yourself up and straddling his waist.

He had his back rested against the bedframe behind him and looking at you with a coy grin. Your placement on his lower half had his mind in a daze, with his hands clasping your waist and watching you with interest. His eyes only left yours for a moment as your hands ran down his white shirt. He watched your every move and brought a hand up to your face to capture your lips with his.

You experimented by grounding your hips down into him, similar to how he was moments before, and the soft groan that vibrated against your lips only told you that he didn't want you to falter your motions. His hand left your face and found your unoccupied hip as he guided your slow, dragged-out motions with each kiss you bestowed upon his lips.

His tongue slid into your mouth and explored the inside of your mouth, then returning to tasting your lips as he dragged his tongue alongst your bottom lip. His grip on your hips became tighter, with his breath growing inconsistent as your movements picked up.

You broke the kiss for only a moment, just to hear the light whimpers and groans that left his parted mouth from the friction. You held his eyes and smiled at how unraveled he was becoming, especially since this was the first time you've ever seen him in this state. It only drove you to continue, not by picking up the pace of your hips, but just teasingly going slower to watch his brows furrow.

You gripped at his shoulder once you felt him into your core, head falling down onto his and locking your lips with his lazily.

"This okay, Josh?" You rubbed your lips together with a hum, keeping the motion of your hips slow and consistent.

"Yeah, yeah it is," he reached for your lips again, "it's more than okay."

His phone vibrated against your knee, and you laughed lightly as he groaned with an eyeroll, picking up his phone and raising it to his ear.

"Speaking." Josh said. You leaned your ear against the phone to hear the conversation.

"We're about to pull into the driveway. Got the drinks set up like I asked you?" Jake said, signaling that was what he told Sam you and Josh had been up to.

You removed yourself off of Josh and waited for him to join you.

"Yeah, just about. Thanks." Josh said to his brother and said his goodbyes as he hung up the phone and ran downstairs with you to set everything up.

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You and him frantically ran around the kitchen like children, giggling at each other when you and him collided a few times and managed to not spill or drop anything. You were thankful you two were quick to the act of getting everything set up. Cups and bottles of various alcohol laid on the countertops of the kitchen, with a big bowl that would house the popcorn.

Josh had left you to organize the kitchen and set up the first movie of the night by slotting the DVD into the player and relaxing onto the L-shaped couch with the remote in hand. His arm rested on the back of the couch in attempt to act calm and collected, while you were frantic to make sure that everything looked presentable.

After the two brothers arrived from the store, you helped pop popcorn with Sam while Jake joined his twin on the couch and caught him in a conversation, as usual. The dynamic was quite normal, with you stuck by Sam's side and the twins reserved in their own corner chatting and laughing about something only they'd understand. It helped you be at ease for the remainder of the night that everything was familiar, in the sense of Sam glued to you and making sly remarks at you that had you pushing his shoulder to the side with a giggle.

All four of you joined on the couch after sorting everyone out with drinks and desired snacks. You chose to place the popcorn bowl in between you and Josh to create distance. Sam had sat next to you, arm behind your back and Jake sitting on the opposite side of Josh. It was reminiscent of how the four of you would sit together in their basement back home, with you usually curled up next to Sam and the twins making small comments to each other about the movie. Josh usually didn't like to talk during a movie, which seemed to be the only time he allowed himself to be quiet, but he never turned down a small conversation pertaining to the movie. But, if it was a movie he was completely focused on, or one of his all-time favorites, anything said to him would go through one ear and out the other.

You had picked up on that when you all would watch movies together, but back when your feelings were still considerably unreciprocated and not spoken aloud about, you only allowed yourself to watch him shift in his seat or the relaxation in his face occasionally. Now, you were able to without making a fool of yourself, despite Sam being able to clearly see you weren't interested in the movie, but more into his brother.

Sam nudged you with the tip of his fingers on the side of your arm, snapping you away from your state of thought and looking up to him.

He looked down at you with a light smile, taking a few moments before deciding to speak. "I know this movie is a bit boring, but you promise not to fall asleep during it?"

You tapped his chest, shaking your head without a verbal response. He expected one though, raising his eyebrows and waiting for you to speak. "I can't promise you that."

"Don't feel like carrying you up to bed tonight." He sighed lightly, intended to be playful, because he didn't mind the act at all. It was just another way to show he cared about you.

"You don't leave me alone on the couch when I do, anyways. I always wake up to hear you snoring next to me."

He nodded slowly at your words. "If you'd prefer to sleep here tonight, I'll plan on it, too."

You pressed your tongue into your cheek. As much as you appreciated the sentiment, it would mean giving up your time alone with Josh. Was that selfish of you to want to leave your best friend alone on the couch and sneak around to see his brother? The obvious answer was yes, so you just gave him a nod in agreement, and turned your head back to the movie that flickered on the screen.

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Light thunder rumbled outside of the lake house, merely shaking the house and having you wake up with a jolt. You released yourself from Sam's arms and squinted around the dark living room that was barely illuminated by the moonlight. With your hands hoisting your body up behind your back, you flipped your head to see Sam's head lolled back on his shoulder, long locks of hair spread out alongst the cushions and his face fully relaxed. His chest rose and fell slowly with a light snore escaping his nose every now and then. You always gave him shit for snoring, but really, he wasn't nearly as bad as his brothers.

He hadn't been stirred by the rain that trickled down harshly outside, and to be fair, nothing really woke him up from his sleep. You allowed yourself to go to the bathroom quietly and rejoin him back on the couch, because not all promises were meant to be broken. Knowing that he'd be a bit hurt to find you away from him in the morning, you decided to pay Josh a quick visit before curling yourself back in your friend's arms.

You washed your hands quickly and shook the dripping water off in the sink, looking at your face with a quick turn, cheek to cheek, before tiptoeing over to Josh's room. You figured a quick apology would do the trick for "ditching" him on yours and his's nightly routine of seeing each other, so you chose to just do that.

Upon entering his room, he was sat on the corner of his bed, hands folded together before bringing one to rub over his eye. He was only in a pair of tight briefs that exposed most of his unpigmented thighs. The creak of his door had him whipping his head over in your direction. With squinted eyes, you could tell that he put the picture together quickly it was you entering, and he allowed you to enter with a small smile.

You came to his side, placing your hand on his bare back and running your fingers up and down his hunched spine. He lifted your chin with his index to bring your lips onto his in a tender kiss, then pulling away with a smile that raised to his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?" You gave him a look of slight concern. You figured it was because of the brewing storm, but you liked hearing his voice, even if you knew the answer.

"Thunder woke me up," he nodded as he placed his hand on top of your knee, "the couch comfy at all?"

"Yeah, yeah it is," you huffed a laugh, "chose to come say hi to you before I joined Sam again. The rain woke me up, too."

He nodded at you with a blank face and choosing to just wait for you to speak. Just as much as you liked his voice, he adored yours.

"I'm, uh, sorry for falling asleep and skipping out on our nightly visit. I promise I tried staying awake, I just can't seem to stop myself from falling asleep during movies. It's like a curse."

He released a low laugh at your words, with his eyes averting to his lap before returning back to you. "Don't need to apologize. You did better this time around. Think you made it through half of the second movie."

You rolled your eyes. "You noticed?"

"Sam mentioned it. Said we could keep the marathon going and let you sleep." He motioned with his hands and continued. "Didn't want to disturb you."

You huffed a laugh as you looked back to the cracked door. You were unable to see your friend, but the light snores told you he was fast asleep still. It was a reminder you were thankful for. Otherwise, you'd be listening more intently for a slight stir.

Josh's eyes were on you once you turned your attention back to him. It was as if he had something on his mind, something he wanted to say, but he hoped his eyes would tell you what his words couldn't.

So, you brought your lips onto his, cupping his cheek and taking in a sharp inhale from the contact. It never got old kissing him, since every time felt like the first. Butterflies fluttered aimlessly in your stomach, and you didn't try to push that feeling away. You chased it with every kiss, every touch.

He held onto your lips for a moment before unlocking them and looking at you with a soft smile. A kind of smile that told you he was content. A kind of smile that made you wear one of your own.

He left your side and walked over to the door, peaking out and finding his brother still passed out on the couch. He was still undisturbed by the storm, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

You watched Josh cautiously shut the door, squinting his eyes at every creak that produced from the wood before it was fully closed. A deep, quiet breath that was barely audible over the rain left his mouth before he turned to you. And there he was again, looking at you with that same smile. Waiting for the moment to say something, or perhaps for you to speak up. But you just cocked your head to the side in confusion with a light laugh.

His eyes never left yours as he walked slowly over to you. He chose to stand in front of you, looking down at you and raising your chin with the side of his index finger. You swore he had never looked as sensual as he did in this moment, and that had your mind in a twist. Flustered, perhaps, but on the edge of wanting to know what was on his mind.

So, you poked at his brain. "What are you thinking about, Josh?"

The corners of his lips curled even tighter and raised to his eyes. You were giving into his little game without realizing it. "Remember what happened earlier today?" His voice was low to a whisper.

Of course, you remembered. You replayed those 10 minutes in your head more times than you could count or admit. You gave him a quiet nod as your breathing began to shake. With his hand raising to your cheek, running it down the delicate skin then residing it back under his chin, he hummed lightly.

His back hunched over enough to bring his face closer to yours. "Never really finished what we started, you know?" He pressed a quick kiss onto your parted lips. "Figured with the opportunity given, we could."

"With Sam passed out on the couch outside? Are you crazy?" You widened your eyes and wearing a smile of confusion. Your eyes only slightly furrowed at what he was implying, but you weren't denying him of the proposition. "He could wake up any moment."

"He won't, I promise." He shook his head lightly. He was wearing a faut pout. It was as if he found your worry amusing. You both knew nothing really woke Sam up, yet you just always assumed the worst.

You tightened your lips together. God, he was nearly irresistible like this, with how his eyes captivated you. Almost intimidating enough for you to want to look away with how flushed your cheeks were getting and your body producing a light sweat. The whole situation was nerve-racking, but wasn't that the whole risk in this relationship, anyways? The whole point of this was to sneak around until given the right moment to tell Sam, so, you had to work with what you had.

"How about I make you a deal, alright?" He pecked your lips and waited for your hum of approval. Once given, he continued. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but this will really be about you, y/n."

"Me?" You whispered to him. Your neck sprouted out enough to move your head an inch closer to his face in slight confusion. But he wasn't going to give you an answer. He was just waiting for the moment realization hit your head before he made another move. No pressuring, no making you feel as though you were forced to comply. It was when you were ready to let your mind fly out of oblivion.

His eyes fell down to your lap, with a coy grin dancing on his face and looking back up to you as a hint.

Your facial expression fell slowly. "Oh." Sure, it took you time to understand what he was trying to get across to you by beating around the bush, but the whole point of this light teasing was a game to him that he enjoyed playing. And you took part in playing along now, this time fully knowing his intentions. "Okay," you breathed shakily, "yeah." You nearly swallowed your words, but they were audible to his ears.

He slotted his lips with yours smoothly, and in a chain reaction, you had a hand on his cheek. It was gentle the way he held your mouth on his, but you were quick to learn you yearned for more. You took initiative on making the movements of your mouth faster enough for him to know you wanted more. And with the kiss growing deeper than before, his tongue swiping your bottom lip and asking to invade the senses of your mouth, your defenses were down. You were no longer worried if Sam was outside of the door. All you knew of was Josh in this moment, and the dark bedroom that surrounded the both of you with reminders of the rain tapping at the window behind him.

Desperation grew between the both of you now. You had your back flat on the bed, with him crawled on top of you and claiming your mouth on his. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel every touch, every movement produced from one of you. Like the way his curls rustled softly on your cheek, and you'd tug the back of his hair just to hear him groan deeply. It was addicting to hear how lust-filled he was by the simple act, and it had you wrapped around his finger.

He dragged his mouth down your neck, sucking lightly at the tender skin. You were tugging at your bottom lip and praying you wouldn't produce any noise louder than the thunder. The flat of his tongue ran up from your collarbone and just below your jaw. It had you sighing with desire and your hips involuntarily bucking into him. This was only just the beginning, and he had you under a trance of no return.

His fingertips wrapped under your tank top and raised his face in front of you. He started slow, pulling the fabric up halfway up your stomach. When you didn't give him any disapproval, he continued, fully slipping off your top and throwing it off to the side of his bed.

His eyes stayed on the sight of your bare breasts in front of him. You wouldn't have caught it if you weren't listening intently to him, but the quietest, choked gasp escaped his mouth. Admiring you was all he was doing, but only for a moment longer before he brought his lips back to your neck and worked on trailing them down to your breasts.

He clasped a hand on one of your breasts and massaged it in his palm. You whimpered lightly, quickly bringing your teeth to your bottom lip to shut you up. It was harder to keep any noise from you once he brought your hardened nipple in between his fingers and began sucking at the top of your breast, then on your areola with an open mouth. He worked his mouth delicately on the bud, with his teeth teasing it lightly and producing a light gasp from you.

You pressed the back of your head into the bedsheets and kept a hand in his hair to remind you where he was, even though his lips gave that away. Your chest rose and fell quickly with each slow, wet kiss he'd place down your torso, then stopping at the waistband of your shorts. With his fingers pulling the shorts and your underwear off your body, you helped him by lifting yourself up just enough, you were fully exposed to him now.

Your legs parted for him without a thought about it, although your mind ran in circles about being the most vulnerable you've ever been to him now. His fingers trailed down your thighs, then choosing to press his mouth on the inside of the skin and suck gently. You grew increasingly desperate for more, for his mouth on your sex. It was as if you could feel yourself growing wetter than you were, possibly dripping down onto the sheets. All you cared about was the satisfying feeling of his mouth on you, and you were growing impatient with each light kiss he'd press just above it, or next to it, having you raise your hips as a desperate plea.

He met your hooded eyes once you leaned up just enough for him to see your face, pursing his lips and letting his spit drip down your cunt. Your body shuddered as you felt it drip down slowly, but he helped speed the process just a bit by bringing his finger to your sex and dragging it down slowly. You groaned lightly, and with that, he produced a light smile to you. He seemed to enjoy watching you grow desperate for him, and although you were slightly annoyed, you didn't mind that he enjoyed taking his time. It was a change of pace than what you've experienced, as if he got off on just praising your body like a temple. You appreciated every second he took to make your body temperature grew increasingly hotter, though. It made you feel worshipped in an odd, but pleasing way; because he knew how important foreplay was, and you were glad to find that out quickly.

He could tell you had enough of the game, and he chose to give into your craving. With the flat of his tongue running from your entrance up through your folds, you gripped on his hair tightly and clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the embarrassingly loud moan that you let out. His mouth stayed on your clit and sucked softly, with the tip of his tongue swirling circles pleasurably on the bud. You rocked your hips into his face with each motion just to match his pace and truly feel everything that was happening between your legs.

Josh hooked your legs on the tops of his shoulders as he resituated himself, with his hands pressed on the tops of your thighs. He didn't miss a beat, though, and kept his rhythm consistent on your clit. He would lightly lick at the surface and having you whimpering from above. You felt like you could almost cry with how agonizingly gratifying it was to feel his mouth work wonders on you, let alone, take his time and truly build you up at his own pace. It truly was all about you, just like he said.

His finger drew circles around your entrance, continuing to lick and suck at your clit and producing more, quiet moans from you. You were thankful for the occasional thunder rumbling outside, and the rain pouring hard enough that if you were to be any louder than you were, you wouldn't be heard. Although he enjoyed every sound, every swear that crept from your mouth, he knew that your volume wouldn't increase for the sake of the both of you.

But once his middle finger slipped inside of you, your grip on his frilled hair tightened and your back raised off the bed with a whine that battled the sound of the rain. He hummed into your clit, increasing the movements of his tongue and mouth and flicking his eyes up to you. You had rested on your arm to watch him intently, with your mouth being indecisive with being hung open or having your bottom lip being tucked under your front teeth. But with how hard you were tugging at your lip, you chose the latter, and kept it open and prayed that you could keep your sounds to a minimum volume level.

With each reentry back into your slick entrance did his finger curl inside of you. You had your head hung back, chest heaving and whining a mushed mix of swears and his name. Your mind battled with what to say, but no coherent thought could be produced with how good he was making you feel. No one had ever had you so captivated, and no one had looked more beautiful between your legs. The sight was undeniably obscene, but you weren't arguing with it. In fact, after you laid your eyes on him again, you couldn't take them off. He caught your eyes a few times, humming into you and watching how your body shivered and jolted from the sudden vibrations.

He picked up his pace with his middle and ring finger inside of you now. Each curl of the tips of his fingers, each movement of his tongue, each slight hum from his mouth had a coil twisting in the pit of your stomach and begging to be unraveled. As much as you wanted to reach your release, the sight below you was too perfect to be thrown away in a few minutes.

Mixtures of, "fuck, Josh," and "right there, God," fumbled from your mouth as you tugged onto the bedsheets under you and rode to the motions of his fingers. He had curled the tips of his fingers enough to hit the specific spot inside of you that brought you closer to your orgasm. Beads of sweat accumulated on the tops of your furrowed brows and your back as that feeling grew closer to being fully fulfilled. It was just barely out of reach, even though you desperately tried to grasp it.

But once his pace became quicker, you knew you were done for. You were nearly breathless at this point, relaxing onto your back again but keeping the same grip onto his sheets that had your knuckles turning white. His tongue changed motions, swiping left to right on your clit before choosing a different pattern and experimenting. Your mind had only focused on his mouth sucking mercilessly at your clit, and how fast his fingers pumped and curled inside of you. It was enough for you to be sent over the edge and release onto his fingers.

Your back arched, with a loud whine that was nearly muffled by the thunder that hit at the perfect time, body shivering and your eyes squeezing shut just for a moment before relaxing with your agape mouth. White flashed behind your lids as he rode out your orgasm, slowing his fingers and mouth and humming into you with appraisal.

You had lied limp for a few moments. You fluttered your eyes open and felt his fingers leave you, then dragging his tongue to collect the rest of your orgasm and pressing a quick kiss on your thigh. He began massaging it, and you used all the energy in your body to prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him again.

He wore a small smile with a light glisten rested on his top lip and chin, running his eyes down your body and then looking up to you with a smug grin. He was pleased with himself, and you released a huffed laugh as you brought your hand flat onto your forehead for a second.

The only thing you could think of doing was to thank him, so you did. With a quiet laugh, he pressed his tongue into his cheek, and said, "my pleasure."

You looked back to the door for a moment and sighed. You weren't going to be able to stay in his room for the rest of the night, and that pained you. You just wanted to be wrapped in his arms and sleep next to him, not his brother. It was weird to you that you would have to walk back out of there as if nothing had happened and curl up next to Sam like you hadn't moved away from him.

With quick thought, you decided to voice how you felt. "Wish I didn't have to go back out there."

He rose to his feet and nodded. "As do I. But I'll still see you in the morning."

"Thanks for reminding me." You scoffed playfully. He just laughed at you, leaning down and grabbing your shorts for you.

You had already slipped your tank top onto your body, and he helped your legs into your shorts and underwear until you took the lead of pulling them fully on. He lent his hands towards you and helped you off the bed, and with a quick falter in your balance, you held yourself straight up with a huff.

"We're getting a bit less cautious with this, you know." You wrapped your arms around his neck. In return, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to his body.

"Eh, I think we are just testing our limits. I've got it all under control, y/n. You have to stop worrying so much." He lightly teased you, then rubbed the tip of his nose against yours and pulled you into a soft kiss.

"I spend about half my time worrying. Are you finally catching onto that?"

He pressed his lips together, pretending to be in thought, then shaking his head with a grin. "You've always been a 'Nervous Nelly' ever since I've met you, my dear."

"Don't call me that." You shook your head with a grin.

"What? D-."

"A 'Nervous Nelly'. I hate that." You cut him off quickly.

"Sam call you that a bit too much, huh?"

You scoffed lightly. "Yeah, yeah ever since we were kids and he found out I was anxiety-ridden. He thinks it's funny, but I fucking hate it."

He laughed at you, pressing another kiss on your lips and removing himself from you. He brought your hand into his, walking over to his bedroom door and cracking it slightly to see what Sam's state was. To no surprise, he was still passed out on the couch, and he took that as a cue to open the door just enough for you to slip out.

"Want me to wake the both of you up?" He squeezed your hand to stop you from leaving for a moment.

"That's if you're awake before us. But, yeah, I'd appreciate that." You nodded, pecking his lips once more and slipping out of his room as quietly as you could.

He kept the door open, watching you walk over to Sam with light footsteps and grabbing the soft, blue blanket that rested on the opposite side of the couch and throwing it over him before you crawled under the blanket. You rested your head on his chest, hearing his calm heartbeat and pulling your hand to rest just below your cheek. You looked up to see Josh give you a wave of his fingers and shutting his door, which had you quietly laughing to yourself.

Lying next to Sam felt like all sorts of wrong. There wasn't a should in this situation, meaning you should be sleeping next to Josh. You weren't even supposed to be going behind your best friend's back in the first place, but then again, he wasn't your decision maker. Whatever the right choice was, you weren't going to let it consume your mind. You just resituated yourself slowly onto Sam and let your eyes fall shut to distract yourself from anything else that popped into your head.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

taglist: @gvfleetwood @sacredjake @aureatopia @myeyehurtz @alexiagx @objectsinspvce @unhappycylinder @spinthehemmo @carbonwritingthroughtime @thecoldwind @ageofsophgvf @fakeplastiqtree @thepritchardscale @gvfpal @light-myluv @raviolilegs @jordierama @alwayskiszka

-part six-

[myreitha]

Costume time!

Okay, you know what, I want to share this process and I've chosen y'all to suffer with me.

SO! A friend of mine doesn't have a spooky show to produce this year, and so is putting all his energy into a cool-ass halloween event (Fancy paper invites, puzzles to solve, challenges, games, seances, etc). The whole thing is themed around this fake secret society that we're all now part of, and the dress cose and we're being encouraged to come up with cool fancy clothes/outfits to match the theme to come in. Best description I can come up with for this theme is "Fancy witchy-vampire" (Like, think VtM, but witchier). THAT SAID. I'm still out of a job, so, I've got to be strategic. AND I've got the itch to make things. Even better. (More past the cut!)

I don't have photos for a lot of these earlier decisions and stages, sorry. BUT I go through my closet and costume tubs (the for-fun-or-cosplay costumes as well as the circus/performing ones) and have a nice closet-runway to figure out what I'm starting with and settle on this one burgundy satin wrap top with big-ass sleeves that I love. . .that unfortunately doesn't go with much that I have in my wardrobe that vibes with the theme. (There's like. . .one or two things it works with, but I want to be FANCIER). So I sketch around and come up with an idea based around this shirt (and a statement necklace collar I have that was some of the best $5 I've ever spent)

I have this old dress I'd bought at a flea market years ago and had altered to be an overskirt for a hoop skirt, and then it's been worn as a bustle with the bodice tucked away more times than it's felt hoops. It's a similar color as the top, so I figured I'd finally take the bodice off it, pull it in to be something I could walk in that wouldn't trail on teh ground, and I could set it under a corset in the center. Bing-bang-boom! Genius!

No. The skirt and the shirt were similar-but-different enough colors and textures that they clashed. Damnit. Well, I can ditch the skirt and figure out the rest! Some skinny moto pants. A decorative corset - I could embroider a corset (Myr no), or, ooh, use gold appliques (Okay, more realistic, proceed).

Next step was to mock things up as I'm trying to find what I want without purchasing a bunch of shit, which got me to this:

Okay okay okay. Cool, I've got a direction (that's not the shirt, but it's the closest I coudl find online to use, so I used it). Now for the endless internet and thrift store (No fingers, not thirst store, dear god) and internet thrift store searching to find me some cool-ass pants and a corset and some shoes that'll work with this. You'll notice, though that my statement necklace has been swapped out for cool-strappy-thing. Because statement necklace-collar is geometric and GOOD LUCK finding geometric applique. Harder than I expected. Took me a couple months to find things that weren't lots of money that I could afford. BUT I EVENTUALLY DID IT. This included buying multiple corsets with the intention of returning things. Benefits of modern shopping. The happy "lets try everything on" day was this weekend!

SO FAR SO GOOD. Took a poll from friends and the short corset is the winner. It's definitely the best constructed of the three, though the pants aren't QUITE high enough waist to be able to wear under it without some adjustments. But it'll do. The shoes turned out to be dark brown instead of black, so I need to see about making them black (and fixing them so the tongue doesn't decide to go deep diving towards my toes.) Other things to do: bring in the wrists of those sleeves some, they're a bit too big (Here they're clipped with bobby pins), decorate the corset, maybe add some gold detailing onto the pants? They've got that gold ridging along the thighs that you find on moto-pants, but that's absolutely invisible most of the time, so I think if I just brush some gold paint along the tops of those ridges, it'll make them pop in a good way. You'll note that none of these photos have the strappy-thingy, and instead we're back to the statement necklace-collar. Turns out the differece between the image I found on the internet and teh shirt I own is enough that you BARELY SEE the strappy. Also, I decided that instead of using applique, I'd buy some gold paint, make a design that'd work, and paint it on the corset. Only time will reveal whether this was a good or a bad idea.

Other thing this showed me is that this doesn't feel FANCY enough. So I'm coming back to that half-skirt idea. This time, though I'm thinking about something sheer - either a burgundy to match the top, or a black with gold accents (OR A FULL DESIGN?!?!?!).

Last night I got flat photos of the corset for figuring out the design, since the shape I was working with in my sketches doesn't match the chosen corset shape. Pls to enjoy some of the designs I was playing with:

Proooooobably going to see about adjusting the eye design. I think it fits the theme best.

Last night I started on the alternations by taking in the waist of the pants. Please have this photo that happened 30 seconds before my thread was attacked.

[goggles-mcgee]

Wish Me Away: What Goes Around Comes Around

Notes: I'm so sorry for the wait but things piled up and it overwhelmed me. My mental health declined and physical health fluctuated, lot's of personal things happened and then I just got caught up in my commissions. I try my best to multi-task but it always gets hard for me. Sometimes I'll hit a streak and then I'll hit a block.

Overall, I'm just sorry and I thank all of those who are still sticking with this story and me as an author.

Warnings for this chapter are descriptions of injuries.

Beginning Last Chapter

Summary: The Agreste's face their Karma

Chapter:

Karma was a beautiful, beautiful thing if you asked Tikki. One of the only beautiful things born from her and Plagg’s combined powers. They were young when they created it, back when they hid from all, be it humanity or the wide variety of Gods and Goddesses. Kwami weren’t known to man, and to the Gods…well, some didn’t understand them, or they saw them as competition, but there were some Gods who sought them out to talk and bounce ideas off of. It was nice and it fueled her need to create. One conversation with some lovely Hindu Gods had her mind spinning to the point she demanded Plagg help her with her idea. He was reluctant, of course he was, combining their powers had proved to be a great yet terrifying thing. One that wasn’t exactly forbidden by Them before they had actually become Them , but it wasn’t highly encouraged either. 

Luck and Creation were Tikki’s domains, Bad Luck and Destruction were Plagg’s, so it was safe to assume they didn’t collaborate often. When they did though, they created such intriguing yet beautiful things that had the power to do as much good as they did harm. An example being the Lazarus Pit. It was just one pit that ended up somehow multiplying and they were spread around the globe. They were misleadingly called the Fountain of Youth, not many knew there was more than one so whichever one they discovered or heard of that was nearby or far away was deemed the fabled fountain. Human tales were such interesting things, Tikki loved hearing and reading them, even in her smaller form. They were shining examples of Creation and what could be done with the gift of Creativity. It was wonderful! Tikki loved seeing Creation in motion but it was something else to see Plagg and Destruction in work.

It was art.  

Maybe it was horrible of her to say but without him there would be no her. Creation needed Destruction and vice versa. They were an endless cycle and there was something just absolutely breathtaking about that. It was no wonder that Tikki wanted to try and merge their powers and see what could be born from it. They saw what happened when they combined their Creation and Destruction powers, but Tikki had been curious about their Luck based powers and Plagg had been a lot easier to convince once she explained that. It had been laughably easy, the power glowed above them for a couple of seconds and it was beautiful, it was more so when it separated into what Tikki could only describe as magic dust and flew in every direction. The dust coated everything and then it was gone. Naked to the eye but Tikki could feel it all around. 

At first, they had no idea what this new thing did but it became apparent the more they observed humanity.  A human would be kind or helpful in some way and Tikki would get this feeling of tickling warmth around her, this person would get a bit of good luck, nobody else could see it but Tikki, Plagg and the other Kwami (and Tikki would wager also the Gods) would see this human surrounded by some sort of glow. It was beautiful, it never stayed one color, it fluctuated and changed but always remained this soft, gentle glow. Eventually it would fade, but Tikki noticed some humans seemed to be constantly surrounded by the glow and it wasn’t a surprise to note they were some of the kindest, most generous and passionate humans she had observed. They were wonderful and Tikki felt they deserved the boost of luck, the Kwami as a whole were in awe. Then they saw the other side of things. 

Tikki knew humans weren’t perfect, that was part of their allure and all, but sometimes some of their actions truly disgusted her. They lied, which isn’t all bad, but some just lied and lied as easily as breathing and did so with no remorse even if a lie caused a problem. Sometimes they even looked proud if it caused some form of problem to happen. There were those who stole just to steal and just because they could, and there were those who killed with no guilt. Tikki and Plagg started to notice that these people started to be surrounded by a dark cloud of energy. The cloud was sometimes small, sometimes big but it always ended in some odd rain of black energy that coated the person till they resembled some sort of shadow being. How covered and how dark they became seemed to be tied to their actions and some time after that person would experience bad luck. 

Sometimes it was something as simple as something breaking right as they were used, be it old or new, and sometimes…sometimes it was a broken bone, getting an illness or even death. But the deaths were never swift, never painless, they were drawn out and full of such misery it was nearly tangible. Tikki couldn’t help but feel proud of what they created, it had some…drawbacks but overall, it was a beautiful, curious thing. Plagg had been so interested in her side of things, he chose to ignore what his had done but that was okay because Tikki found it just as, if not more fascinating than the good luck boost. It was like the world itself demanded justice and it got it when no one or nothing else did. Plagg at first had loved his powers but when he saw the hurt and hate, he stopped loving it, to an extent Tikki understood but at the same time she wanted to knock him upside the head. Without him, there would be no need for her. 

It took him a couple decades but he got there, and their strange new power grew the more time passed. It got mixed reviews from their peers and the wide array of gods but some Hindu Gods loved it. They even helped them name it as they had a similar idea but Tikki and Plagg seemed to have brought power to it. It was a great collaboration and thus Karma was born. Tikki and Plagg found it utterly fascinating and found themselves watching the humans for long periods of time. That was until They came back in their weakened state and all the Kwami came together to try and help them, it ended up being all for naught but They were not short of their wisdom and critics even in their final days. They saw Karma and though they found it just as fascinating they also scolded Tikki and Plagg for mixing their powers together without notifying them. It was a messy argument but one that ended with Tikki and Plagg getting to let Karma keep on. 

Once they were sealed in the Miraculi though, the effects of Karma weakened. It never disappeared but it did fade into a lesser version of itself. There were rare times where Tikki and Plagg were able to see Karma back in its true form and it was almost always after a Wish or after a catastrophic event in their universe. Karma followed and it healed the balance of the world. Many believed it was the Wish that did this, that took and gave in equal parts but that wasn’t true. The Wish brought about whatever change the Hopeful who had managed to obtain both the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculi together had requested, and yes They took something of equal value to the Hopeful in exchange, but it wasn’t balanced. Karma helped balance out all the negatives that came after such events, but when it was caused by a Wish it tended to be more … unpredictable. It was more powerful, more spread out, more vicious and bountiful. 

It would reach everywhere a Kwami, and later, a Miraculous had touched. For those who had any saved up Good Karma, Good Fortune would follow them for a while. How long was never determined as sometimes it went on longer than expected or someone had used up all their collected Good Karma on one big thing. Again, it was unpredictable. The same was true for those who had built up Bad Karma, they could have a lot of low level Bad Fortune or even a lot of high level Bad Fortune. And like Good Fortune, someone could use up all their built up Bad Fortune on something big. When that happened, it was a terrifying sight. The punishments that Karma dictated for those with Bad Fortune could be deadly and some were. Tikki remembered them well. So she knew that no matter what, after Gabriel had made his Wish that Karma would be back in its full power and it was something that would have excited her if she had not been actively losing her latest Bug. She had been so close to losing Marinette and her heart raced whenever she thought about it at Wayne Manor. She wanted her revenge. 

That’s why she had asked Them if she could enact Karma, not natural Karma, that would happen regardless. No, Tikki had asked permission for Kwami Karma, a very special type of Karma that allowed Tikki and Plagg and whichever Kwami’s felt wronged or blessed by a former Holder, some of their former power from before they were Sealed and let them bestow Gifts/Blessings. Though some of the Gifts could very well be called curses, that was part of the Kwami Karma and how a Kwami felt towards the person receiving the Karma. It had been something that Tikki and Plagg last collaborated on as a branch of Karma, many people who had worshiped them had called it Divine Honor or Divine Punishment, whichever applied. It was Hippolyta that bestowed the updated name upon them, really she had been joking, “ Ah, so it is to be a Karma of the Kwami? ” The name stuck though as it had made Tikki laugh. 

Though the name brought a smile to her face once more, it wasn’t a fond smile nor one born of laughter, no this smile was one that promised vengeance. The wind rushed around her and the others as they flew across the Paris sky.  Bruce hadn’t been happy about what they were going to do and yet he had still offered to take them to Paris, Tim had even thought about letting them use something called a Zeta-Tube, they were both very nice offers but this was something that had to be done only by the Kwami. Thankfully they had been given some of their former power that morning, it had been hard to hide it from the new family but Tikki thought they had managed well. Kaalki had opened a portal for them after they had all said goodbye to little Marietta, some goodbyes took longer than normal despite everyone knowing they would be home before the day was up but Tikki couldn’t be mad about it. Marietta deserved every bit of love she got. 

“So, are we doing the announcement first or the Gifts first, Lovebug?” Plagg asked, his voice fluctuating between the high-pitched one Tikki had gotten used to hearing and his old one, his original voice, the one she missed more than she could say. 

“The announcement will be first, but before that, we need to give out some Gifts .” Her voice fluctuated too now that they were close to accomplishing their Karma. 

“Are we starting with…with them, then?” Nooroo asked, his voice soft no matter if it was fluctuating. He had yet to raise his voice above anything other than a soft tone and it hurt Tikki’s heart to see her fellow Kwami like that. It made her furious. 

“Yes, Nooroo. We are starting with the worst of them. Gabriel Agreste and-” Tikki started.

“And Adrien Agreste.” Plagg finished in a hard voice. She gave a short nod as she didn’t know what to say to help Plagg. He was betrayed once more and so was one of her Bugs and it never got easier to deal with. 

It wasn’t long before they got to the Agreste Mansion and Tikki felt all her anger and fury rise once more. She looked at the others, then toward Nooroo who flew to her side to join her and Plagg. The others gave them nods before they found spots to hide on the property until Tikki called them. Tikki looked at Nooroo who was staring blankly at the large window in the back of the mansion where the lair had been, he was shaking slightly. “Come. They will get what they deserve My Friend, and you will get closure.” 

“I would like to come as well, if you don’t mind. I know my Holder is no more, but…” Tikki turned back to see Duusuu floating a little behind them all. Her voice was hopeful yet weak. She was still recovering from the damage that had befallen her Miraculous and now that They had fixed it, her recovery was a sure thing, but it was a slow process. Tikki hadn’t even wanted Duusuu to fly out with them all, but she was a stubborn Kwami. Tikki couldn’t deny her, her own closure in that mansion. 

“Of course Duusedda,” It had been many many years since the Kwami as a whole have used their full names, but this was an important moment and Tikki felt like the Kwami before her deserved to hear her own name in full before they all confronted the Agrestes. The smile she got in response made her resolve all the more stronger. So the four Kwami phased into the mansion and followed the voices. Plagg took the lead on the flight as he was the more familiar with the house, Nooroo was confined to two rooms so wasn’t all that familiar with the home if you could even call it that. 

Tikki could hear the voices more clearly and did not hesitate to go towards the doors and use a power boost to blow them open. She had not been expecting the sight of Emilie Agreste to strike her like it did but she did not let it hinder her mission. Though, a big part of her wished that the woman was included in her Karma. She may not have been revived with her consent but she almost took her Baby Bug from her and that was not something Tikki tolerated. For the sake of balance and for Them , she would not do anything to the woman, plus nothing Miraculous would affect the woman since she was a product of a Wish, it was something Tikki brooded about a lot before this day. She may not be able to touch the woman, but she could touch Gabriel and Adrien who were present and immediately tried to fight off whatever kept them stuck to their chairs. Tikki, Duusuu, Plagg and Nooroo all made their way to the center of the table, which was a longer flight than Tikki expected. What was the point of such a long table? No reasons seemed to be good enough reasons to Tikki and by the look on Plagg’s face, she knew she wasn’t alone in the thought. 

“Hello Gabriel.” Nooroo said, his voice surprisingly and not so surprisingly was cold as steel. Gabriel looked like he was yelling silently at them all but Tikki felt no need to subject them all to his pathetic voice and demands. Unlike Nino’s family who were frozen and aware, the Agreste’s could move their upper body and somewhat legs, they were just stuck to the chairs they sat in and the chairs were firmly stuck to the floor. Tikki did steal their ability to talk or more so muted them as she did not need them to try and justify their actions, she did not want to hear their anger, hers was louder and they would be her first audience. 

“Kid.” Plagg said with a smile that was all teeth. His pupils slit so thin they almost looked like they disappeared in the sea of green that was his sclera. 

“Emilie, it is nice to see you awake.” Duusuu said softly, Tikki didn’t agree with her statement but well, the Peacock Kwami always was one of the nicer beings. They were nice but they did hold grudges for a long amount of time if someone wronged them. They got attached fast though, though to say that would make Tikki a hypocrite. 

“I won’t drag this out. The less time I have to be in the presence of you three would be a blessing.” Tikki growled out. She swiftly looked at Nooroo and Plagg and the three of them shared a grim nod. “Gabriel Agreste, former holder of the Butterfly Miraculous, you have been deemed an enemy of the Miraculi. As such you are forbidden from wielding any Miraculous as long as you shall live.”

The shock in Gabriel’s eyes was delicious as was the panic in Adrien’s. Emilie looked horrified but not shocked and that also gave Tikki some pleasure but not as much as she thought it would. “You, Gabriel Agreste are the catalyst to this Karma, in a way, I suppose I could thank you but that would be giving you too much credit. Besides, you do not deserve my thanks or anyone else’s. You invoked my wrath. You killed my Chosen! You destroyed her! Erased her. I take great pleasure in bestowing unto you, your Karma. I, Tikki, Kwami of Creation curse you with memory.”

Gabriel, who had been doing his best to escape the chair, paused at her words. Was the man really that surprised? Did he truly not think there would be consequences to his actions? The thought made Tikki sneer. 

“You will remember the prices others paid for your selfishness. You will remember Nathalie,” Emilie looked genuinely shocked at the name of her friend and equally heartbroken. “Your devoted right hand who did and would do everything for you. You will dream of the woman you erased from the world. You will see every time she sacrificed her happiness for you and your whims. You will feel the love she had for you and the pain she felt every time her love was rejected, you will feel the pain she was in once she started using the Peacock Miraculous. This pain will last for all the years Nathalie Adeline Sancoeur was alive.” 

Emilie was sobbing but her tears were silent due to the magic that was placed on all three Agrestes. She was yelling, presumably at Gabriel who was not paying her any attention. His face was pale, his mouth agape. “You will also remember Marinette Meiying Dupain-Cheng, also known as Li-Mei by her family in China. You will be plagued by visions of possible futures had you not taken her from this world. You will see how Paris would have mourned her as the hero Ladybug, as the classmate many admired and also her as the kind baker’s daughter. You will never know rest. My final ‘ gift ’ upon you Gabriel Agreste, is the gift of a long, healthy life. And for my parting curse, as I am Creation and Creation is me, I curse you with the loss of skill. You will retain your creative spirit but you will never be able to bring to life one of your ideas ever again.”

Next up was Nooroo, he looked nervous but determined. “I, Nooroo, Kwami of Transmission bestow upon you the curse of never wielding my Miraculous as long as you live. You corrupted a Miraculous, you imprisoned me and you did it all with no hesitation, no remorse and I will repay that to you. With no hesitation in my heart and no remorse to be felt I bestow the marks of a traitor to me and an enemy of the Miraculi unto you Gabriel Agreste.”

As soon as the last word fell from Nooroo’s lips, Gabriel spasmed and clutched at his chest and back. His silent screams meant nothing to the Kwami but it seemed like they affected both Emilie and Adrien who tried to reach out to Gabriel. Their mouths were asking questions no one could or would answer. Nooroo felt no relief or vindication at what he had done and would do but he also felt no guilt. “I also give you the…’gift’ of memory and pain. You will remember each ‘akuma’ you created and all the pain they caused to the people of Paris. You will feel each death as if it were your own, you will feel the break of each bone and you will feel the sting of each scratch. That is my parting gift to you, I have nothing else to say.”

Plagg put a hand on Nooroo’s shoulder and gave him a rueful grin before he took his place in front of Gabriel. “I, Plagg, Kwami of Destruction curse you Gabriel Agreste, with a curse of destruction. As I am Destruction and Destruction is me, I bestow upon you this curse of destruction, you will destroy every relationship you have, had and are going to have. No one will ever trust you, no one will ever like you and no one will ever love you again. You tore relationships and strained them during your tantrum as Hawkmoth, you will experience that first hand now.” 

With Plagg’s final words Tikki knew their curses and gifts were placed and finalized. She watched impassively as Gabriel tore his shirt off and finally saw what his marks were. Emilie had a hand over her mouth as she stared in horror at the red, irritated and raised skin on his chest that took the shape of the Butterfly Brooch, he would carry the reminder of his failures by the burn on his chest. It would never fade, it could never be removed or covered by tattoos. It was his brand as an enemy, it would be the first of many marks given today but his and Adrien’s would be the only ones whose marks caused them pain. Everyone else would possibly feel a slightly uncomfortable itch at first or nothing when given their marks. But these two? These two deserved the pain Tikki felt, they had caused her and many others pain by almost taking away her Baby Bug, so they would feel pain in return. Let the world know that they, the Kwami, were not as benevolent as rumored or to be believed, they were higher beings of morally gray standings and it was time they showed it. 

Gabriel turned around to show Nooroo’s parting mark, the mark that he betrayed the Kwami. Two large yet not so deep gashes ran across his back, deep enough to scar, which was Nooroo’s goal. The gashes were parallel and symmetrical, if Gabriel had had wings, Tikki was sure that’s where they would have been placed on his back. Gabriel had lost his wings and now it was time to show the whole of Paris that. “We have punished you, Gabriel Agreste, as we see fit, but the people of Paris haven’t punished you yet. So, as a peace offering you will be locked in one of their jails, La Santé. Should anyone…desire to help you, they will be sorely disappointed to find you can never leave. I am not cruel, you will be provided meals even if those at the prison decide not to give you some. You will be provided a TV so you can watch everything happen around you. So mote it be.” 

Just like that, Gabriel was gone from his seat, Emilie was crying while Adrien also looked close to tears but was yelling at them. His hair was a mess, his face red and spittle flying from his mouth. He looked as unhinged as Tikki imagined, she knew the boy was hiding a darker side like all did, she just never thought it reached this far. All Black Cat’s had darker sides but they all knew how to control it or embrace it, Adrien was not one of those that could do so. It was a mark, one of many of a False Cat. Thankfully, they would leave this place soon. “Adrien Agreste, former holder of the Cat Miraculous, you have been deemed an enemy of the Miraculi. As such you are forbidden from wielding any Miraculous as long as you shall live.”

Adrien stopped his silent screaming and looked at her like she had grown another head, honestly, she wasn’t even one of the Kwami that did possess two heads in the original form, so she felt like it was rude. “You can glare at me all you want, little boy, but it will do nothing to help you. You are the one who betrayed the Miraculi, not the other way around. As such, I, Tikki, Kwami of Creation bestow upon you the curse of memory. You will remember Marinette, you will remember every instance she put her happiness aside for your own. You will see all the times your ‘flirting’ made her uncomfortable as Ladybug and Marinette. You will see every time you let her down. You will remember Nathalie and every time she made excuses for you and all the times she got in trouble because of you. They also give you a curse, you can never tell anyone about the Miraculi, about us Kwami, but if asked you will only admit to being the traitor Chat Noir. Finally, I bestow upon you a gift. You never wanted Marinette so I shall make everything she ever gave you, turn to ash. It’s only fair after all. My gift will make it so you won’t be so cruelly reminded of Marinette, well, visually at least.”

After saying her peace, Tikki flew to the flowers in the middle of the table and sat upon a leaf, though she would hear everything, she wanted to give Plagg his space to say his own peace. She knew it was going to be hard on him but he always did prefer to show his emotions in private so he wouldn’t break in front of his peers. He rarely let Tikki in so she felt bad that they were present for this moment, but it was needed. She watched as Plagg flew towards Adrien and landed in front of the boy far enough to not be grabbed. His antennae were flat against his head and back, it hurt Tikki’s heart to see. “Kid… Adrien, I’ve thought long and hard about this. You may not have been my True Chosen, but you had potential and I…I cared for you, I thought you would have grown into a great Cat. You had spirit, but somewhere along the way you lost sight of what was important. My Cats tend to be on the reckless side but they have heart and are more than willing to lend a paw when they are needed. You are not Cat of mine.”

“With all that said, I, Plagg, Kwami of Destruction bestow upon you the curse of Bad Luck. You will forever be plagued with bad luck, some days can be better than others but that will all depend on you. If you genuinely do something to help someone or comfort someone with no ill intent or selfish gain, your bad luck will be minimal. Do something out of selfishness or deceitfulness and your bad luck will become worse. I will also give you a gift, you care so much about what others think of you I give you the gift of Thoughts. You will hear every single negative thought anyone has had about you. You as Adrien and you as Chat Noir. You, like your father, will bear the marks of enemy and traitor.” Plagg said in a monotone voice. At the end of his speech Adrien spasmed much like Gabriel had but this time he clutched at his right hand before his head was forcefully turned to the side by an invisible force.

Emilie tried to go to her baby boy and Tikki, feeling merciful, allowed it. Emilie shot out of her chair and to Adrien at incredible speed she cradled him to her as best she could while she sobbed. She ran a hand through his hair and pressed a hand to the supposed scratch marks on Adrien’s face and even though he couldn’t hear her, she was trying to calm him as best she could. Her words may not have been heard but her actions were. Well, to Tikki at least. As much as she despised the woman in front of her, she knew it truly wasn’t her fault and let herself feel bad for her. She awoke to pain and even if Tikki believed she had a part in Marinette being erased she also acknowledged it was Gabriel who started everything in a way. Tikki sighed before looking at Duusuu. “Duusuu.”

The Peacock Kwami looked at her and with just a look they knew what she was going to say, so the Kwami gave her a soft smile. “Emilie, I know you never wanted this. But you did ignore my warnings so long ago and though I can’t give a gift of any great weight and can still give you a small one. So I, Duusuu, Kwami of Emotion, bestow the gift of Innocence. No matter what comes to light you will never hold any blame or suspicion. Given what has happened and what will happen, you need not be punished more than you already have.”

“I will not fight Duusuu’s decision.” Tikki said after a while of silence. “We leave you here as I have a broadcast to make but one final word, Adrien, there is… hope for you. You can be rid of your curses if you realize and admit your guilt in all that has happened. That and accept it wholeheartedly, only then will you be free, but you will never rid yourself of your marks. This will be the last time you see us in person.”

No other words were said before the four Kwami left the house. There was no time for delays, Tikki and the others had Karma to deliver and there would be plenty to go around.

Next Chapter

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[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Three: Two’s Company, Three’s a Crime Scene

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 4,317

TW: mentions of a body at a crime scene, some graphic description.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“No comments from the peanut gallery!”

“I’m simply saying that if you’d let me handle the directions, maybe we’d get there faster!”

You sighed as Fox screwed with the gigantic spiral-bound map he found shoved between the bench of your rental truck. When the two of you landed, you discovered something new about your fellow agent- he liked being in charge of not only picking but driving the rental car. You knew the Bureau provided money for the vehicle, but you had no idea it was within your purview to choose which. You might’ve picked something a little sleeker and smaller, like an understated sedan, but the man with the pen did not share your taste, so this time you didn’t get to exercise the privilege. Fox teased you as he signed the papers for an old Chevy pickup, saying, “Seniority, Piglet.” And now he was refusing to let you control the map while he drove the two of you straight into bumblefuck Kansas as if he had a foolproof inner compass.

“Seriously, Fox, come on. It’s dangerous to drive like this, just let me help.”

“I’ve survived every case this way, you know,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, alone! You’ve got me here now, and I’m not gonna let you crash the damn car while I’m inside!” You resolved, tearing the map from his hand and ripping it at the corner of the page. All you tore was the map scale, but he still shot you a dirty look. 

“Nice going–”

“Enough!”

You wanted to believe you didn’t enjoy the way he bickered with you, but it kept the endless drive of dying grass and grey sky interesting. Fox had to double-check every direction you gave him on the way into Marysville, Kansas, at whose name you of course rolled your eyes. The snarky driver learned to stop doubting you about an hour in when he disregarded your order to make a right-hand turn and went left. It took him ten minutes to admit he was wrong and turn around. You graciously accepted his apology, but not before sticking your tongue out in juvenile triumph. Nearly three hours later with the late afternoon sun preparing to set, the rickety truck pulled past a sign that greeted Welcome to Marysville! and you found yourself in the middle of a quaint little place, seemingly empty, with rows of colonial buildings and businesses. You rolled the window down and felt the muggy spring air stick to your face as you poked your head out, admiring the center of town. You could feel your hair frizzing up, and you hoped you’d have time to fix it before you had to do any work. This was not the time to look anything other than prepared.

Fox piped up, “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna make a pitstop at the police station before the motel.”

You huffed and fell back into the seat, and the man let out a soft chuckle. You combatted, “What now?”

“You’re like a little kid.”

“Am not!”

Fox quirked an eyebrow at you, silently proving his point, and your face melted into a playful smile. You stopped complaining and he turned his attention back to the road, where he surveyed for a police department sign. He found it on the corner of a block, but he nearly missed it- if he wasn’t paying attention, he might’ve mistaken it for just another shop. There were stately stone steps out front and two swinging doors that were reminiscent of a saloon, so you made note of the entrance for the next time it camouflaged into the rest of the town. Fox pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, which sputtered a bit, and you made a nervous face. 

“Don’t worry,” Fox smiled, “I can just hotwire something if we need to.” When you made a face, he added, “Come on, I’m kidding!”

All you gave in return was a skeptical, “We’ll see.”

As he moved to open his door, he paused, noticing how you sat still. “Everything okay?”

In your head, you weren’t sure how to answer his question. One thing has been irking you since you landed in the Midwest, and that was how badly you wanted to nail introducing yourself; you’d thought over exactly how to pull your badge from your pocket, and how you’d assert your new title, but every vision ended with you screwing it up. You’d done this at your old job in New York so often it became second nature, but somehow this was different. This was bigger. You had so much more power with a federal badge. You wondered how Fox did it every time; if he was stern, or positive, or something in between. You almost wished you’d practiced it in the mirror, but that felt stupid to entertain.Yet now that it was time to establish yourself as the overarching authority, a beacon of hope to the people of this town and the families who have lost daughters, you were afraid to make a fool of yourself by either overdoing it or not doing it right at all. For God’s sake, you dropped your passport in front of the flight attendant- what made you think you wouldn’t blurt out FBI too loud in front of the sheriff? What would the citizens of Marysville think if the government sent them a detective who couldn’t even get her name out without stuttering? 

Fox wished he could read your mind, but all he could do was watch your eyes glaze over. He reached out and touched your shoulder. “Anybody home?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Kind of,” you huffed, “There’s a lot I’m nervous about, you know that.”

“About the case?”

“Yeah, the case. And about doing well. Proving myself. Not letting you down,” you added at the end, to which he broke into an appreciative grin. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“You’re lucky you have me then. I’m practically a diamond,” Fox winked, “Relax. I’ll take the lead.”

Fox might be a pain in the ass, but he was somewhat of a gentleman; after promising he’d lead you through things, he held the door to the station open for you, and you went inside first. There wasn’t much of a lobby. It was more like walking straight into a bullpen, and a calm one, at that. You saw three officers sitting at their desks; two working diligently on what seemed to be simple paperwork, and another with his feet kicked up on the desk and a newspaper over his head, snoring loudly. A faulty fan was whirring exhaustedly in the corner next to an open window. It was mundane everywhere you looked- dusty bookshelves, tidy filing cabinets, dust floating in the light beams spilling through the blinds. An aging woman was working the counter with fat librarian glasses perched on her hook nose and a frizzy, box-blonde French twist. Fox nudged your elbow politely, and you stepped aside to let him approach her first. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Special Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner.” 

You watched him carefully as you fished your badge out of your jacket pocket and flipped it open. He held his own up briefly, barely long enough for anyone to know if it was real. You took it he never ran into that issue. His voice in introduction wasn’t stiff, but it was still assertive. There was a warmth in the way he spoke to her, and you thought maybe he was always gentler with older women, or possibly with everyone- he certainly spoke that way with you. You would’ve kept thinking about it if he didn’t keep going.

“I talked on the phone with a Sheriff Hale, he requested my partner and I come down and take a look at a string of murders?”

The woman smiled with all her teeth, and you could tell by the way her eyes sparkled that she liked him. Just like the lady at the airport. You wouldn’t have pegged him as a ladies’ man, but it made sense. He did have a unique charm about him.

“Oh, yes! Well, Sheriff Hale is out on a house call, ‘ya see, but he’s bound to be back in soon. I can send a call out for ‘im, if you like.” Her country accent was thick as molasses, and just as sweet. 

“That’d be great, ma’am, thank you.”

“Oh, please, call me Mary!”

Fox laughed and confirmed, “Mary from Marysville, huh?”

Mary cackled like an obnoxious schoolgirl, and you had to bite back a laugh yourself. Fox stepped away with you as the woman hopped on the phone to speak with the sheriff, throwing glances his way all the while. 

“Flirting on the job, Fox?”

“What can I say? I’ve got game, Piglet.”

A part of you wanted to know more, but there wasn’t enough time to try between his teasing comment and the interruption of frazzled Mary: “Excuse, Mr. Agent Mulder, sir?”

“Yes?”

“The- the sheriff says he needs you down at the Church of Saint Peter the Apostle as soon as you can, sir, down on the corner. There’s been another murder, dear Lord…”

Fox defaulted to you, and despite your apprehension, you were the first to head for the door. He called back to the woman with a rushed, “Thank you, tell him we’re on our way!” and the two of you hurried to the old pickup parked out front. He got it up and running and rushed off, and there wasn’t one complaint when you reached for the map and turned to the page with a closer view of Marysville, and told him where to go. 

“Up on the corner, she said, but which corner?” You wondered aloud, and Fox kept his eyes on the road. You were just about to tell him to make a left when a beater came barreling through a stop sign at the intersection, wholly ignoring your right of way, causing Fox to slam on the breaks. You lurched forward in the seat and caught yourself by slamming the map against the glovebox. You flushed, feeling like an idiot for forgetting your seatbelt. 

“Are you hurt?” Fox blurted. His hand reached out to brush some hair away from your forehead, checking for a bruise or blood, but all you could think about was how softly his fingertips ghosted against your temple. You didn’t feel any pain, but you sure were shaken up.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He dropped his hand and looked in the direction of the tin can that nearly killed you both, seeing its tire marks trailing down the road. “Where do you think he was going, driving like that?… Dick.”

He tried to let the insult slip under his breath, but you heard it loud and clear. You giggled, and he smirked at you, noting that you liked a slip-up here and there. You began to say something, but two more cars came hurtling down the street in front of the truck, laying on the horn at you for being stopped a quarter of the way into the intersection. Both loosely followed the tire tracks and made screeching turns a few blocks to the right. You looked to Fox for an explanation, who stared back with just as much confusion as you, and he took off, chasing the commotion. You clicked your seatbelt in hurriedly, holding onto the door handle. You weren’t one for speed, but you didn’t feel as unsafe as you would’ve expected yourself to. Fox knew the car well. He knew the dimensions, he knew how fast it could go, and he clearly felt comfortable in the driver’s seat because he was plowing through town like he was the one being chased. You saw a wild grin creep up on his cheeks, and your face felt warm. It was fun, going fast. 

Just up the road, you saw red lights flashing in alarm, and a mass of cars pulled up in disarray outside a little church, including the three trucks that nearly killed you. It had to be smaller than the police station- it was wooden, with a weathered steeple that was shadowed by the falling dusk, and moss grew unabated over the windowsills. Teenagers and parents were prowling by the sheriff’s car, which Fox parked right beside. 

“Holy shit!”

“Lord, that’s disgusting!”

“Lemme in, lemme see!”

The two of you hopped out and hurried through the hollering crowd of townspeople, right up to the ambulance that blocked them out, but didn’t hide their view. Kids peeked past the authorities with sick looks. Two paramedics met you at the yellow tape and passed some rubber gloves off, which you took gratefully, already feeling your stomach drop at the exclamations of the onlookers. When you finally got past the ambulance, you gasped at the crime scene which one deputy and the supposed Sheriff Hale were rushing to cover with tarps and close off. Fox held up the tape for you to duck beneath, and he followed as you stepped onto the scene. 

“Sheriff Hale?” You inquired. “We’re with the FBI, you called for us?”

The older of the two men looked up. He had a beet-red face, which could’ve been from the intensity of the Kansas sun or stress; his eyebrows were bushy as beaver tails, and his stocky build made it hard to believe he did much more than paperwork. But nonetheless, he stood up and shook your hands as he greeted, “Thanks for getting down here so quick, agents. I reckon this is the fourth victim, she, uh… well, how about y’all take a look?”

You and Fox stood on the little dirt path that led to the steps of the church, lined with painted rocks. It looked like a children’s effort, a community project. There was a large crucifix marking where the peak of the building met the steeple, and a giant translucent sheet covered the steps; on the tall double doors, there were thick splatters of oxidizing blood and splintered wood. You knelt beside the younger officer, who was taking photographs of the scene, and made yourself known. 

“What do we have here?” 

“Looks like another murder, ma’am,” he frowned. You noticed his name embroidered into his uniform pocket: Deputy H. Jones. He was tall and skinny as a twig, with an endearing gap between his two front teeth. He looked too young to be a college student, let alone a police deputy. “A real shame.”

“Did you know the victim, Deputy Jones?” 

“Sure I did, knew ‘em all. Lots… lots of ‘em went to school with me. This girl here, though, she was a good friend of my lil’ sister. Liane Jacobs. Real sweet girl. It, uh, it’s a rough thing to see, ma’am.” 

Your heart sank at the thought of what it must feel like to be him. You reached to peel back the tarp, and it took less than a second for you to lay it right back down. You weren’t prepared for the sight, and had to choke down a gag. “Jesus Christ.” 

“You ask me, Jesus ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, agent. Not a thing.” 

Deputy Jones’s face fell pale as he walked away, leaving you to examine the victim. You slowly lifted the tarp again, careful not to reveal anything to the crowd gathering outside the confines of the caution tape. Despite the breakfast you had rumbling like rocks inside your gut, you took a mental note of the girl lying before you, gutted like a pig. She looked far worse than the photos in Fox’s file. Her entire chest cavity was splayed open as if her ribs had been ripped out all at once. The tissue of her dermis and lungs was a mixture of chop meat, all littering the jagged edges of her vertebrae, which were missing bones in all the spots the X-rays had in common. Her lower body was littered with bruises and cuts, especially around the hips and lower abdomen, yet her face was left untouched- not even a spot of blood was present to interrupt the porcelain appearance. She looked supremely calm, in contrast to her violent disposition; relaxed eyelids, perfectly tinted lips, flawless teenage skin. Her dark hair fell in Hollywood ringlets across her shoulders, manicured, well-placed, well-planned. You gazed up at the cross she sat rotting beneath, and you wondered what God would do, had he the choice to help you understand. You only stopped contemplating when a hand tapped the crown of your head, and you saw your partner looking down at you. 

“Her name is Liane Jacobs,” you sighed, “The deputy knew her personally.”

“Seems like everyone did. Seventeen years old, grew up a mile out from here. She worked at the library as a part-time bookkeep and spent her weekends volunteering at this very church,” Fox informed. “The sheriff, deputy, and her parents all swore she was a good girl, a good friend. Devoted to her faith.”

“Look what it got her. So much for being devoted,” you grumbled, tugging Fox down to take a closer look.

A short-lived expression of shock crossed the man’s face, and then he was all business; he knelt over the body, close enough to give you the creeps, and studied the girl’s lacerations. You leaned back on the heels of your boots and glanced around, finding the bystanders terrified of how Fox seemed to dole over the dead body. You squirmed uncomfortably, realizing they must think you had a screw loose, too. 

“We’re gonna need an autopsy on the body, but a lot of these mutilations match the other victims just from a visual deduction. The missing ribs, the bruising around the waist and legs. But this is way more aggressive. This is like the other deaths on steroids. The killer didn’t take nearly the same care removing the bones from her chest cavity– I mean, the last murders weren’t surgical by any means, but this? This is violent. Might as well have torn her apart by hand. Somebody is really angry. Maybe even crying out for help. It’s hard to tell.”

“Well, however they’re feeling, they clearly had something against this girl. I mean, they desecrated her, Fox. Her body is completely destroyed. I can’t even fathom what would possess someone to- to ruin a young girl like this.”

Fox nodded curtly, furrowing his eyebrows in agreement. Then his neck craned down, and he mumbled, “Hey, look at this.”

You watched Fox’s glove-clad hand dig into poor Liane’s jeans pocket, tugging out a thin string of wooden beads. It was uneven with little plastic beads between the wood bits, which told you it was homemade. The rosary looked almost charred, and the cross dangling at the bottom was splintered. 

“Do you think it’s hers?”

Fox laid the chain in your palm and pointed to the little metal tag that conjoined the sides, where three initials were stamped: LMJ.

“Liane Michelle Jacobs,” he confirmed, “Seems like the type our guy would pick, don’t you think? Looks-wise. Even if she died differently, still fits the profile.”

You moved to drape the tarp back over the body, but not before taking one last look at her face. Liane looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her family couldn’t hold an open casket, and everyone would live with how she was found, discarded like roadkill on the local church steps, but she was still beautiful, and that was eating at you. 

“I feel horrible.”

“This isn’t really the best first case to work on,” Fox admitted, “I wish it was something different for you.”

You wouldn’t have expected to be so moved by a dead girl. In all your years at college studying the world’s most prolific cases, learning how to compartmentalize, and doing fieldwork in New York, you had a stomach of steel. You could take any case, see any death, and solve it. But you’d never had the feeling you have now, as you see the fourth victim surrendered at the foot of a carpenter. Something dark surrounded her, something that nailed you to the steps. There was a force at work you’d never known before. Something was wrong. You couldn’t be sure if Fox felt it, too, but it was making it near impossible to separate your empathy from your logic. You just wanted to cover Liane, and hope that she didn’t feel any pain, and if everyone might turn their backs to you, maybe you could cry for a moment at the loss of an innocent girl to a monster. 

Fox could see you fighting with yourself by the way you chewed at your bottom lip, eyes locked on the girl’s still face. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he had to say something. 

“I know this is hard for you. Especially with all the pressure you’re feeling. But I also know having you here will help save other girls like Liane. You’re more than well-equipped for this. If anyone can do the job, it’s you.”

You tipped your head back to blink away a few tears that poked your eyes, and you let the plastic cover the body. Fox cleared his throat and said, “Come on, let’s go. Let the coroner take her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Offering you a hand, Fox got you back on your feet and you followed him down the walkway towards the street. Two men shuffled over to scoop up the mess on the steps, and you had to tune out all the crying and commentary coming from the townspeople. The colors on the ground were distracting. Every rock was a different shape and size, all probably appealing to the child who chose them; there were paintings of houses and dogs, butterflies and crosses, mothers and fathers holding hands. Kids always seemed to draw what they knew best, even if their imagination took them to so many other places. You stopped short in your gawking and bent down, picking up one of the rocks lining the path; it was red, with a faded painting of a donkey looking up at a lopsided star. You turned the stone over in your hand, feeling the smooth texture, and found a neatly printed name on the back: Liane J. 3rd Grade. You pocketed the rock with no good reason and hurried to catch up with your partner who was waiting by the passenger door of the rental truck, lost in his head. When you reached him, he opened the door for you, and you slipped inside, suddenly deflated. 

“I don’t think there’s much else to do tonight until we hear back from Sherriff Hale or the county morgue, so I guess we should head to the motel. I could use a second to settle in. I bet you could, too.”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You muttered.

Fox began to shut the door on you, but paused, eyes grazing over your face. You weren’t nervous anymore, but were something else. There wasn’t a touch of color in your cheeks, but your skin was still soft-looking, like your eyes. He didn’t like the softness of them, actually, since it seemed more like fragility, or frailty, than gentle. Sitting in the truck he’d picked, on his case you were unlucky enough to be placed on, you looked young and worn, eager and tired, your hair just sweet fuzz framing the face of a girl unaware of what she agreed to. That might be the worst part, how you looked, along with how he imagined you felt. It made his chest ache. 

“Hey, uh, are you hungry? I know, bad time to think about eating, but I haven’t since before the flight this morning.”

You scrunched your nose and thought about the last time you ate. You recalled grabbing a power bar on the way out of the house in the morning, but you also seemed to recall passing it to Fox at the airport gate when he complained about being starving. So, you haven’t eaten at all. The nerves kept you full.

“Well, a little, I guess. I probably should have something.”

“How about I stop and grab us a bite on the way over? Sound good?”

You felt the shadow of a smile on your lips, and you nodded your head. Fox made up for the grin you couldn’t muster with all his teeth and shut the car door swiftly, jogging around the front of the truck to get in the driver’s seat. Without another word, he started the engine and backed away from the scene, leaving the Marysville authorities to pack Liane up and ship her off to the morgue. You watched the crowd watch, and you wondered how a town so small and close-knit as this one appeared could stand around and ogle a dead girl they claimed to cherish. You replayed the whole thing in your head- how you froze, how you almost cried, how Fox had to get you out. You were more than embarrassed at how you acted, but you couldn’t change it. You were just lucky he was the only one paying attention. 

Blowing out a slow, sleepy breath, you flipped the map open to look for the motel, but Fox laid his hand on it and said, “It’s okay. I got directions from the Sheriff. He said there’s a burger joint on the way, too. You take it easy for now, okay?”

Unwilling to protest, you sat quietly in the seat and let him drive down the pothole-riddled road. You obsessed over the weight of the rock in your pocket, and it felt the way you did back with Liane’s body– dark, unnatural. You left it there and hoped no one would notice it was gone.