#ive said it before that every sentence is like a brush stroke

[r0b0t1me]

You are not supposed to be here. You don’t belong here. Get out get out get out GET OUT-

fanart for chapter 4 of take little bites by @bigdvmnhero​

bonus. because i couldnt pick a single scene to draw out LMAO

[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough���s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Would you ever do a continuation of your ‘summer of whump 24: scars’? 👉👈🥺

Yes, I shall. Thank you for the ask.

Scars Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: extremely sick character, IVs, needles, near-comatose character, death mention, preparing for death, and a good, happy ending

~

Caretaker stroked Villain's head as he slept; he curled into her subconsciously, face resting against her side.

He was so tiny and so incredibly weak that Caretaker was surpised that he was even alive. His hair was thin and flaky, falling out when anything would tug on it too hard- which was why Caretaker was extra gentle with her comforting. His skin also had that same, elderly and dry look, and it was completely white. Hardly any blood flowed through his veins, just enough to keep him breathing. His body was in no shape to produce more blood cells, if that was a possibility anymore.

He needed hospitalization and a blood transfusion, immediately, but if he stepped foot in any clinical buildings- or public in general- there was a large chance that he would be seen and once again captured.

It was hard, seeing her ward fade away, being less and less able to stay conscious for substantial periods. But she also knew that Villain wouldn't be able to survive recapture.

Either way, it ended in his inevitable passing.

Caretaker still tenderly cared for him: fed him when he could manage, showered him, cleaned up any bowel accidents. She even performed small acts of comfort... periodically brushing his teeth or giving him deodorant even if he was nine times out of ten asleep or semi-sleeping.

But all of it was in vain. He was rapidly sprinting down the track towards comatose and from there, death. He was loosing this battle, plagued by blood loss and weakened by vampire poisoning.

Caretaker stifled a sob as she hovered over Villain's body. After weeks of playing doctor, she couldn't just give up and lose her patient. It was like murder.

It was her only choice.

Well, she actually had two: either he die in warm hands, or alone in a jail cell being feasted on by vampires. She chose the more humane option, even if it was harder on her.

But it wasn't just an uneducated choice of pure intuition. She did lots of research on how to cure this seemingly terminal disease, but all leads sent her to a website to call a consultant from the Hero Agency.

Weren't the heroes the ones who so brutally punished him? Or, more like, tortured him for fun? It wouldn't be safe.

Then, one day, just as Villain was about to lose his fight and slip into a coma, Caretaker found a lead.

A private clinic, owned and ran by one of the city's most notoriously evil doctors. Not that Caretaker knew that, however.

So she called, hugging Villain with one arm, as the phone rang, then clicked.

"This is Jewel's Baker Clinic for villains, how may I help you?" A man over the phone spoke, voice very exultant as if he never, ever got phone calls.

"Hey I am Caretaker! I have a man, Villain, who is dying of some sort of vampire poisoning," Caretaker spoke, chewing her lip softly.

"V-villain?" The man stuttered. "He's alive?"

"Barely," Caretaker gently corrected.

"Okay, okay. Give me your address and we will be right there."

《~~》

Five doctors arrived at Caretaker's house, bags full of medical instruments, IVs, and medicines.

"Prop him up and prepare him for an IV. We beed fluids, nutrients, antibiotics, and heart stimulators."

The doctors worked hard and in a short two minutes, Villain's right hand had needles and tubes inserted into the useless veins.

After the doctors stepped back, chatting amongst themselves, two people stepped forward and surrounded Villain on the bed.

"Hey," one said, a man, and grabbed Villain's shoulder tenderly before sinking to his knees, sobbing.

The other, a girl, went on the other side, knelt down and stroked Villain's head, every once in a while landing a short kiss on his forehead or lips.

Caretaker watched from a distance, tearfully observing how these two villains loved on Villain.

Then, suddenly, the girl looked behind her and straight at Caretaker.

"Thank you," she sobbed, standing up and rushing forward to wrap Caretaker in a hug. "Thank you for finding him and bringing him to me."

"Yeah, uh you're welcome," Caretaker said, accepting the thanksgiving awkwardly.

The man also stood up, locking his gray eyes on Caretaker. "We owe you immensely," he said. "Villain is my brother." He choked up at that last sentence, covering his mouth with his hand. "Thank you so much," he squeaked, sitting himself back down next to the unconscious man.

The girl took Caretaker's hand, squeezing it thoughtfully. "Villain was going to be my husband," she murmured. "Before he got captured. I'm Villainess."

Caretaker smiled and shook the girl's hand, heart warming at the innovation that she saved a lifetime full of love for both Villain and his fiance.

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.04

Masterlist

“You found me then.”

Murphy nodded and sunk down to the ground next to you. It had seemed like a good idea to hide out in the library, it was closed off and you assumed nobody would look for you there. But you had forgotten that nobody knew you the way John Murphy does.

Murphy frowned seeing you so upset. “What’s going on Alba? You have been acting strange for weeks.”

You shook your head and wiped away fallen tears as he contained to stare. You took a couple deep breaths before finally being able to speak, “it’s nothing...I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Al, and thats the problem.” Murphy put his arm around your shoulder, “who’s ass do I need to kick for this?”

His comment made you chuckle, “no one.” You wiped away more tears before smiling into his hug. “I just feel so tired always pretending, you know? And I don’t know how to make it right. I just feel broken.”

Murphy brushed a strand of hair out of your face, you could see the look of concern on his face. “What do you mean by broken?”

“I just-” You struggled to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I look at girls John.”

“So?” He scoffed, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.

“No I mean I look at girls. I look at them the same way I should look at boys...” Pausing you thought about your next choice of words, “I like girls.”

Murphy placed a soft kiss to your cheek he had been stroking a moment previously. “Yeah girls are pretty hot.”

You smiled into his embrace. John was the only person you had worried about treating you differently when you realised that you had started to get crushed on girls, but the truth was he didn’t care. And you’d never been so grateful he was your friend.

You woke to the sounds of a woman yelling, “I need a saline and a pressure dressing. I’m going to need to check her hip bones in a moment.”

“I’m on it.”

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the room. Doctor Griffin was leaning over you, she smiled when she noticed you waking up. “You gave us quite a scare, I’m glad to see you awake Y/N.”

“Where am I?” You asked groggily.

“Camp Jaha,” another voice said.

Facing the doorway you could see Octavia smiling as walked towards you, with her arms stretching out. She pulled you into a tight hug. “You had me so worried Al! I thought you had died.”

You held onto her tightly, “me? I thought the blast from the rocket had got you.” Pulling back from the hug you whined at the sharp pain in your arm. “Oh Jesus, I did forget about the pain.”

“Careful, you’ll end up pulling your IV out.” Jackson said, before explaining he needed to dress a deeper cut on your back. You nodded for him to start and don’t your best not to cry as the feeling of nippiness started to spread across your bare skin.

Octavia squeezed your hand. “Clarke told us what happened. The mountain men...how they are taking bone marrow and blood from us and grounders, from you.”

“Some of our people are still in there.” You paused for a moment to try and think about what else happened, “Anya is dead. She was going to set up a meeting with us and her commander, but she’s gone.”

Octavia kneeled down to your level. “Hey, we still have a chance.” She squeezed your hands again, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come in and see you. I know Murphy will be thrilled when he knows you are awake.”

“Murphy?” You asked confused, after hanging Bellamy and shooting Raven you thought he would have been banished again. God, Raven. “Murphy is still in camp? And Raven’s alive?”

“He sure is, and Raven is alive and waiting to see you.” Once Jackson was finished Octavia leaned in closer to you, “I’m glad I caught you before I left.”

“Where are you going?”

Octavia watched to make sure nobody else was paying attention to your conversation. “Raven is turning the electric fence off so me Bellamy, and Clarke can leave-” she stopped talking when Abby walked back into the room. “Murphy and Finn are actually out looking for our people now.”

You played along so Abby wouldn’t grow suspicious. Octavia shared a knowing look with you, the thought of her going out into the wild scared but you knew Bellamy would keep her safe. You mouthed ‘be careful’ before she left.

“So,” Abby said, stepping in front of you with a smile. “We are going to look at your hip once Jackson is back, I’ll need to check for any signs of infection. I’m honestly surprised you managed to walk that far considering what was done to you.”

“Clarke helped,” you shrugged. A look of pride spread across the older woman's face. Clarke wasn’t your favourite person but she did save you from drowning, “Anya also helped. She saved me and Clarke a couple of times...what they are doing to the grounders is worse than what’s happening to us, to me. It’s barbaric.”

Abby gave you a sympathetic smile as Jackson entered the room. You dropped the subject and leaned back into the table.

—

Groaning you sat up, your original plan was to go look for your friends but between the pain and sleep deprivation you had nodded off. Sighing you looked around the room for your clothes but couldn’t see them. The gown you were wearing wasn’t exactly practical.

Opening the door to the hallway you looked around for anybody that could help but it was empty. Hearing footsteps you decided to walk in that direction when you heard Abby’s voice.

“Did you know about this?”

“No.”

You recognised the other voice instantly and smiled. It was Raven.

“Tell me where they went and you won't be in trouble.” The aggression in Abby's voice surprised you, she had always been so nice when you had previously met her.

“Abby, I...”

“Someone let them through the fence. Someone gave them guns.”

Oh shit. It’s finally clicked, Abby knows Raven helped her daughter and the others escape. You walked as fast your body allowed you to before finding the door to the room they were in. You caught your breath before opening the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

You let out a gasp as you opened the door and saw Abby slapping Raven across the face. What the fuck. Abby stepped back from the brunette, “She thinks that because of what she's been through she's changed, but she's still just a kid.”

“You’re wrong, Abby. She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die.”

Abby finally noticed you standing at the doorway and cleared her throat before giving you a fake smile, she obviously didn’t think you had seen. “Y/N, how are you holding up?”

As she spoke Raven turned around to face you, and you could see the red mark on her cheek. It took everything inside you not to curse the doctor out for hurting Raven. “Uh,” you knew from the look your friend was giving you she didn’t want you to say anything. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”

“Oh of course,” Abby clasped her hands together. “Octavia took them earlier and I’m afraid she didn’t tell me where they were placed, and she’s busy at the moment. I can-”

“I have spare clothes Alba can wear until we find hers,” Raven said quietly.

Abby nodded and exited the room, once you were alone you pulled Raven into a hug. You were afraid to say anything knowing that your voice would break. You were concentrating so hard on not crying that you didn’t notice the leg brace Raven had on until you stepped back.

Raven gave you a soft smile before, “I thought you were goner Al.”

“Likewise,” you moved to get a better look at her cheek. “I can’t believe she hit you.”

“It’s fine Alba, I don’t care about it. What I care about is your back.”

For the first time since being taken by the mountain men you didn’t feel that everything was doomed, knowing that two of your friends were safe was enough to bring a little bit of light back into the darkness.

“Come on, let’s get you out of that horrendous gown.”

—

“I can’t believe you are staying in a tent, they should have found you a room inside. If not because of your leg then at least because of all the work you do for them.”

Raven laughed at the comment as she handed you clothes. You ripped the gown off and happily threw it to the ground and shimmed into a pair of dark jeans and pulled on a clean top. Opening your mouth to thank Raven again you noticed the way she was staring down at her leg. You sat down on the bed next to her, “Reyes?”

You could see her lip trembling as she glanced up, “I have nerve damage from the gunshot.”

“I’m so sorry Raven, I swear I’m going to kill Murphy when I get my hands on him.” It still didn’t feel real to me that Murphy was capable of hurting someone that much. “Whatever you need I’ll be at your beck and call.”

“Careful you might regret saying that one day,” she chuckled. Raven’s smile faded when she focused at your waist, the brunette placed her hand by your bruised hip. You hadn’t noticed the top was ruffled up at one side, her fingers lightly rubbed against the top of your bruise. “What happened Al?”

You shrugged, “It’s a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is injecting you with coagulant, Anya tried to kill us, then we blasted off.”

“Then the mountain men came.”

“Yeah they came and took most of us. I’m glad I got out but I still feel guilty for not trying to convince others to leave with us.”

Raven gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that Al, don’t punish yourself for the pain somebody else has caused.”

You were lost for words, Raven made basic sentences sound so poetic.

“What-what did they do to you in Mount weather?”

“I remember a horrible drilling noise, then waking up to a man called Dante Wallace leaning over me. He told me some bullshit then I escaped with Clarke shortly after.”

Raven looked unimpressed, “that’s it? I want to know everything that happened.”

Nodding you began explaining the full story of how you escaped, you tried your best not to laugh as Raven’s facial expressions that kept changing. She seemed particularly interested in how you got every deep cut and bruise. “I hope Clarke manages to convince the commander to agree to a truce.”

“I hope so.” You shuffled further back onto the bed so you could lie down. Raven gave you an amused look as you made yourself more comfortable, then It dawned on you that this wasn’t your tent. “Fancy having a roommate Reyes? At least until I get my own tent.”

She grinned before laying down next to you on the small bed, “I think that could work.”

There were still so many things you wanted to discuss with Raven but it wasn’t the right time. It was still daylight outside but you were both exhausted. You couldn’t stop yawning, and could tell how strained your friend was. Raven had heavy bags underneath her eyes most likely caused by stress of her leg injury. You wished more than anything you could take that pain away from her. Her ‘get on with it’ attitude amazed you considering the situation she was in.

Even if it was impossible for you to physically take her pain away, you could always try and distract her. “Reyes?”

“Hmm?”

“What's it like to spacewalk?”

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Can you write a modern Michael smut ?

IT’S TIME.

Michael Gray x Reader

A/n I LOOOVE writing anything modern so I love this request. Hope you enjoy!!

You’d first met Michael on a night out in Manchester. A drunken night out. A very drunken night out.

You’d never believed in love at first sight but from that night on, you couldn’t help but succumb to the idea.

You caught his eye the moment you walked in, the light filtering in, framing you perfectly, reflecting off your dewy skin, illuminating your ocean tinted eyes. The world stilled around him as he fell in love.

Now, a year and a half later, you were still together. Things were perfect, somehow still in the honeymoon phase and there was a part of you which though that it’d never fade.

However, one thing you hated was the distance. Michael in Birmingham and you down in London. The mear 130 miles between you felt like millions as you lay in bed at night. You understood that work was a priority. If you ever wanted to be able to build the future that the two of you had discussed so many times, the two of you had to be patient. The beautiful house, expensive cars, holidays, falling asleep in each other’s arms every single night, waking up to the boy you loved with your whole heart was so close, only just a little further until your could grasp it.

But for now, you were lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling, wishing that the cold space beside you was taken up by him.

Rolling over with a frustrated huff, reaching for your phone which you had lazily strewn on your bedside table, the blue light flooding the darkness, revealing the time. Through squinted eyes, you strained to focus on the numbers. 01:14am.

Carelessly you threw your phone down beside you, the sheets rustling as you soothingly rubbed your eyes.

A yawn escaped your lips as your eyes flicked between your phone and the darkness. You lay there for a few minutes, the cogs of your mind whirring behind your eyes.

“Fuck it” you whispered to yourself, abruptly sitting up, grabbing you phone and opening your contacts, scrolling down about half way, finding Michaels name and calling him before you could talk yourself out of it.

Raising it to your ear, you knees tucked up against your chest, biting your lip impatiently as you heard the pained sounds of the dial...

“Y/n? What’s up? You ok?” A string of questions fell from his lips, worry woven through his croaky voice, most likey from sleep.

“Michael” you spoke through a content sigh, collapsing back down onto the bed at the sound of his voice

“Y/n what’s wrong?” His voice a little desperate

“Nothing, no nothings wrong, sorry” you giggled

You were met with silence, Michael now totally lost as to why you were calling so late, not that he was complaining. Your voice was just as much of a comfort to him as his was to you.

“Come see me.” You stated bluntly. Your fingers crossed as they rested by your side.

“Y/n, babe, I can’t-... well I don’t... hang on” you could hear his smile radiate through his voice as he nearerd the end of his sentence.

Searching through his mental calendar, he silently begged for tomorrow to contain nothing but paperwork and accounting.

His lips curled up into an even bigger grin as he remembered that tomorrow was in fact Saturday, a catch up day for him and the boys in the office. Deciding that the paperwork can wait, he finally put you out of your misery...

“Ok” you now both lay there in bed, contentidley beaming to yourselves.

“Really?” Slightly shocked at his spontaneity, but then again, maybe you were the spontaneous one, knowing full well he could never say no to you.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m on my way, love” you heard him rustling around, stumbling out of bed and haistily packing a bag.

“Thank you” you said excitedly

“The pleasures all mine, darlin. I won’t be long” he giggled

“I love you”

“Love you, try and get some sleep though, yeah? It’s late”

“Ok, ok”

“Bye” you spoke in unison, your soft voices blending in the still night air. Relaxing into the matteres as you heard the line cut off.

Too much excitement flowed through your body for sleep to ever arrive, not helped by the constant checking of your phone, wishing for the time to tick by quicker. It was the longest two hours of your life but here you were, stumbling out of bed after hearing a gentle knock at the door.

You silently ran towards the door, feet absentmindedly carrying you over the cold wood floor, standing on your tip toes to peak through the peep hole in your door. Your body wrapped in one of Michaels shirts pressed up against the cool wood.

Gently swinging the door open, you took in the sight of him, the boy you loved standing at your door at three o’clock in the morning, a smile gracing his face, lighting up the room as you mirrored him.

All but throwing yourself at him, he took you in his arms, holding you tighter than he ever had before. Muttering small I love you’s into your ear.

“Iv missed you”

He simply smiled, taking your face in his hands, kissing you gently. Moving his hands to your waist to steady you, he guided you backwards into your appartment. Dropping his bag by the door he pulled back,

“Iv missed you too” a cheeky smirk plastered on his face

Moving your hand to the nape of his neck, you pulled him in once again, deepening the kiss, humming with pleasure.

It was now your turn to lead him away, pulling him towards your bedroom, you kicked the door shut as you went.

“You didn’t just bring me all this way for a shag did you?” He asked playfully

Biting your lip, your words were muffled by his lips “Maybe I did, are you complaining?”

“Not at all” speaking through kisses he was placing down your neck.

You giggled as he made his way back up to your lips, his tongue slipping between your soft lips as he placed his hand on the small of your back, lowering you down onto the bed.

Resting your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer, his callous hands brushing the thin skin of your thighs. A soft moan filling the air as he traced small circles on the inside of your leg.

Holding you by the waist, he kissed your skin through the delicate material that lay between you making his way down to your core. Voicing a accepting groan as he appreciated your choice of underwear, he placed a small kiss over the black lace thong that you wore, he pulled them off you painfully slowly, doscarding them on your bedroom floor.

You chuckled at the sight before being cut off by a moan that slipped up your throat as Michael plunged his tongue into your wetness, spreading your juices over your lips.

“So fucking wet” he murmured, entranced by the taste of you.

You started to beg as he dipped his tongue into your core once again, craving for a release. “Ok baby, ok” he spoke, his lips vibrating against your wetness as he dipped a finger into you.

“Mi- Michael!”

“What’d you want baby, tell me what you want” his voice was deep and seductive.

“More” you begged. “I want more” now breathless you reached down, in twining your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips deeper between your legs. The sight alone was enough to bring you close to the edge

Your vision blurred as he sped up, adding another finger. His tonge flicking against your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, teasing you, bringing you to the edge.

“I’m close” you whined “I’m close” you repeated breathlessly.

“Let go for me y/n, cum for me” he purred, bringing you to your peak, his fingers carrying you through your orgasm as your legs began to shake as he sucked gently on your clit. Your head resting on the pillow, your lips hanging wide as you came on his fingers.

Licking up your cum, he continued to stroke your core as he made his way back to you, kissing you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

Removing his fingers from between your legs, he licked them clean before placing one in your mouth, “that’s my girl” he whispered, kissing your lips softly once you were done.

Moving his lips down to your neck, he sucked slowly, leaving small purple bruises on your tanned skin. His fingers making quick work of the buttons on your shirt, leaving it to hang open, he took in the sight, eyes wide, licking his lips as you followed his lead, pulling off his hoodie and moving down to his joggers. Carelessley throwing them to one side, you began to pull at his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck, silently telling him how badly you wanted him.

Taking the hint, he slowly lowered himself back down to you, biting your lip, drawing a sensual moan from you as he pulled off his boxers. Once again, using your legs to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

He took himself in his hand, pumping down once or twice before lining himself up with your entrance.

“Please, please baby, I need you” you purred into his mouth. And with your beg, he pushed into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust, both of you revelling in the pleasure of him streatching you. After a few seconds, a slight nod from you encouraged him to draw his hips back before pushing into your again. Swallowing each other’s moans between kisses, a slight sheen of sweat began to glimmour over your bodies.

Setting a pace, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, nibbling into your ear lobe as he went.

“So good, so good, so fucking tight.” He chanted, entranced by the feeling on you clamping down on his cock.

The lewd sound of your wetness echoed through the walls of your apartment, fusing with your filthy moans as you left scratches down his back, a reminder of the pleasure he fed you.

You were both reaching your peak, his thrusts becoming clumsy as he twitched wildly inside of you.

“Michael, I’m gonna cum, I’m close baby, I’m close” your sentence broken up by your irregular breathing.

“Let go, go on” he moved, his hand down to your clit, your body becoming overstimulated as he pushes you over the edge, tears forming in your eyes.

You vision once again become blurry as he fucked you through your orgasm, releasing himself deep inside of you with a low groan.

Both of you basked in your post orgasm haze, regaining your breath as you kissed his damp skin, drownin in each other’s moans. Slowly, he lowered himself to lie next to you, taking you in his arms, holding you close.

“Fuck, I love you” he spoke, releasing a deep breath.

“I love you” placing a light peck to his chest “so much”

Placing his hand on your cheek bringing your eyes up to face him, he naturally brushed your skin with his thumb.

“Its time y/n” and with those simple words, everything fell into place.

A/n ok so this was loooooong, but I hope you enjoyd!!🖤

MASTELIST

TagList

@obsessedunicorn24

@namelesslosers

[tronnyboyo]

BLUE SEA Chapter 7: Blue Sea,

Based off of “Delicious” from Pet Shop of Horrors 

Rating: Mature 

AU: Don Thousand’s Pet Shop 

Word Count: 1944

Relationships: Hellshark/Disqualifyshipping (IV/Ryoga) 

Warnings: Brief smut scene, adult humor

Summary: Thomas wakes up to the sound of a voice that he thought he would never hear again.  

Yes, this is my siren song

Reserved only for you

Like a spider I weave my notes around you

You’re caught in my net and I reel you in just like a—fisherman

Siren song, 

Don’t get too close or you’ll be lost at sea

Siren song

     The familiar voice made me open my eyes. In the background, a familiar bass line played and I turned towards the singer. Perched on the steps of the pool was Ryoga, singing along. He looked radiant, his curls glistening under the golden sunlight and his tail languidly flapping in the water. The gills on the sides of his neck opened to and fro as he sang and his hands with their sharp nails tattooed out a matching beat. His eyes were distant as he sang, as if he were reliving another lifetime. My legs shook with shock. Weakly, I grabbed the edge of my chair for support and slowly made my way towards him. 

   “It’s you..!” I gasped. “It’s really you!” 

    Ryoga immediately stopped singing. He turned and gave me a sardonic grin. Plish. He flicked some water at me with the tip of his tail. 

   “Yes, you idiot. Who else could it be?” he teased. 

    It was as if nothing had ever changed. Not caring about soaking my clothes, I ran into the pool and held him close. In turn, he wrapped his arms around me. He smelled of the ocean, fresh and salty. I didn’t mind at all that he slightly stank of fish. He was home, he was home! My eyes filled with tears and I couldn’t keep the shaking out of my voice. I traced my fingers across his flushed cheeks and gazed deep into his loving eyes. 

   “You scared all of us,” I whispered. 

    “I know,” chuckled Ryoga. “I couldn’t help it though.” 

    He pulled me down with him, my neck finally resting on his shoulder. The water was cool as it soaked through my shorts and shirt. I felt the small of his back, so bony since I had last held him. Had I been feeding him enough? I had followed the pet shop’s instructions to the word. But...he was no longer a pet, was he? He wasn’t ever a pet, but now with his memories back, I could truly call him my husband again. I never wanted to let him go, but he eventually pushed me away. He gave me another smirk and flicked more water in my face. 

   “I was so pissed at you,” he said. “You should have just told me about you and my sister.” 

   I held his gaze for a few moments before I replied. With a gentle light in his eyes, he looked more beautiful than before. He seemed almost radiant, with the summer sun against his back. The want in my chest bloomed. 

   “I know and I’m sorry,” I sighed. “But it’s all over now. I’m now fully dedicated to you.” 

   A pause followed as Ryoga gazed out at the pool room. His eyes grew distant again. He must have been remembering the figs we used to feast on every summer. I felt awful that I had just left them to rot instead of finding people to accept them. 

     “I wish Rio told me,” he murmured. 

   “Too late for that now,” I said. “You scared her away.” 

   Ryoga chuckled and then swam around me, his tail trailing the waters elegantly. He playfully tapped me on the nose, his rough fingertip catching my skin. The smile continued to play on his features. 

   “Greedy bastard. You had to fuck both twins to satisfy yourself, huh?” 

   I returned Ryoga’s smirk and pulled him closer to me. Gently, I brushed my lips against his collarbone and relished in his shivers. With deliberate slowness, I ran my lips down his white throat. 

    “I chose you in the end though. And I’m staying with you. Forever,” I promised as I drew him into a kiss. 

    His lips were softer than I remembered. He ran his hands through my hair as we kissed. In turn, I held his torso closer to me. I wanted to be with him, lips locked together, for the rest of our lives. He overwhelmed me with his salty tang, drowning my senses with the ocean. I felt his mouth open invitingly and I slid my tongue into his mouth. How I missed these moments. How I missed him. 

   And now we were together again, buried in each other’s love. 

   “I know,” whispered Ryoga, nipping the bottom of my lip. “I made sure of that.”

   “By making yourself completely dependent on me?” I teased. 

    His tail brushed against my bare leg, the rough skin digging into my own flesh. He flashed his sharp teeth and traced my jaw. 

    “You have the roles mixed up. You need me now,” he drawled. 

   “Oh yeah? Are you the one who feeds me and keeps my tank clean?” I countered. 

    Just like that, Ryoga leaned his head on my shoulder and looked up at me with hunger in his widened eyes, much like before he regained his memories. He would have never done such a thing before this. 

    “We need each other’s love to stay alive,” he said, his lips pink and wet. 

   “Stop making that face,” I chuckled. “It looks weird on you, now that you remember me.” 

    Ryoga pursed his lips and his eyes looked into mine. They were so beautifully blue, just like the ocean on a sunny day. I saw him then, wreathed in sunlight and playing his bass on the shore, a barbecue behind us. My heart ached. Surely, we could still find a way to travel together, even like this. 

    “Did you like it when I didn’t?” he asked softly. 

    I cupped Ryoga’s face in my hands, his skin as cold as the waters we were in. 

   “No,” I breathed. “It hurt just to look at you.”

    Ryoga pressed himself against my chest and kissed me again. Even the insides of his mouth were cold, filled with the slight tang of blood and salt. His hands went to unbutton my shirt, just like he used to. I tried to ignore the coldness in his fingers and hoped that if I held them long enough, they would be warm once again. When he pulled away, my shirt had been fully unbuttoned and I smirked at him. 

   “Haven’t lost that dexterity at all, huh?” I noted. 

   Ryoga proudly crossed his arms. 

   “Nope.” 

   “Think you can do something about those cold hands of yours?” I asked as I slid my shirt off and rested it by the poolside. 

    My husband laughed and he flicked more water in my face. 

   “I’m a shark! Sharks are cold-blooded, stupid!” he said. “I can’t help with being cold.” 

    I blushed and turned away from Ryoga. Of course. 

   “What’s next? Are you going to ask if I have two penises?” he called as he swam over to the jewelry cabinet. 

    “Wh-what?!” 

   Ryoga waved his hand dismissively and pulled out the first drawer. 

   “Nevermind. You kept my sister’s ring?” 

    Awkwardly, I waded closer to him. 

   “Er, yeah. It didn’t feel right, just throwing it out.” 

   He slowly nodded and contemplated the silver ring. The fondness that filled his face as he turned the ring around made my chest twinge. There was a hint of regret in his expression, with the way his lips were turned. 

  “How did your memories even come back? I didn’t even know you could speak,” I said as I watched him replace the ring with a leather bracelet. 

   A roll of his slim shoulders answered me. They pointed towards the stereo system that was still playing an old recording of his. 

   “Most likely that. My memories slowly came back and I trained myself to speak again. I didn’t want to show you too soon or else you’d just laugh at me garbling up my sentences with fish noises.” 

   I snorted. Imagining Ryoga making a wide-mouthed fish face was just too amusing and so unlike him. 

  “Fish make noises?” 

   He nodded. 

   “Some grunting and humming. Clicks.” 

    He put the drawer back and then swam towards me. Resting his cool hands on my chest, he looked up at me. My heart soared as I looked into his face, now filled with trust and familiarity. 

   “I wouldn’t mind. You’d still be my beautiful siren,” I whispered. 

   He softly smiled.

   “For once, you’re behaving decently towards me. It just took a long fall and some amnesia,” he chuckled.

   He kissed my chest and his hands crawled down to my shorts. I felt the rings on his hands brushing against my skin. I buried my face in his hair, breathing in his familiar scent. My heart beat out an accelerating rhythm as I felt the shorts slide down. His fingers toyed with my nipple. I took in a sharp breath. I haven’t had anyone touch me like this in weeks. Desperately, I leaned into his touch. 

   His lips wrapped around a nipple and began to suck. 

   “God,” I moaned. “It’s been too long.” 

   I felt the edges of his sharp teeth graze my flesh. The slight pain only made the warm sensations sharper. I ran my hands down his skin. Even if it was cold, it was still his skin. My breath hitched when he grabbed my hardened flesh. Lazily, he teased it with slow strokes. Like his teeth, his nails grazed my skin with tingling sparks of pain. Ryoga licked his lips. 

   “You bastard,” I muttered. “I haven’t shagged anyone since you leapt off the ship. At least give me some actual effort.” 

   A soft chuckle answered me and Ryoga pulled away, leaving me frustratingly aroused. He swam a few ways off, beckoning me deeper into the pool. 

  “Not even a wank, as you would say?”

   “I was too bloody depressed to wank!” I snapped as I tossed my sodden shorts to the side.  

   Whenever I was flustered, my old vulgarities would float back up from the depths of my mind. It had always fascinated and amused Ryoga, who had grown to adapt my anger-fueled vocabulary to his own during tense moments. Regardless, it felt so good to hear him teasing me again. It truly was him.

    “Maybe I should throw myself off of ships more often,” teased Ryoga as he evaded my grasp. “It makes you more desperate and clumsy.” 

    “You don’t have legs to jump anymore!” I hissed as I narrowly missed his arm. 

   “Fine. I guess I’ll pretend to drown.” 

   I swung my arm over the surface of the pool, dousing Ryoga in a wall of water. 

   “You’re half-shark, stupid! You can’t drown!” 

   A laugh bubbled up from Ryoga’s throat. His cheeks were flushed with color and his eyes were closed. The stained glass window from behind him casted splotches of magenta, turquoise and cerulean on his skin, giving him the illusion of rainbow scales. It was so rare to see him laughing like this, uninhibited and radiant. I wanted to take a picture then and there and forever frame the moment in my heart. It didn’t matter that he had a shark tail now. He was still my husband. 

    Opening his eyes, he dove towards me and pushed me into the water. For a few moments, we sunk into the cool waters of the pool, just two hearts beating in unison. I felt his lips brush over my heated skin. His tongue teased the tip of my length, a slight rasp on the touch-starved surface. Underwater, I let out a moan and opened my eyes. When I looked into Ryoga’s eyes, I saw the pale white disks of the moon.

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part II)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part II:

Remus stood in front of a piece of art, plate in hand, filled with cubes of cheese and assorted crackers. He stared intently at the brushstrokes, the way they danced across the canvas, the texture of the paint. There was intention to every stroke, every line, every point where the brush kissed the canvas. It was purposeful.

"What do you think of it?"

Remus glanced to the side, where a young man in an expensive looking suit had sidled in beside him. Remus raised an eyebrow and smiled politely, taking in the man's appearance. He had rich mahogany skin, almost a burnt umber. It took a cool tone in the stark gallery lighting, but had a hint of redness just beneath the surface. The man had dark hair, a warm black, just a shade lighter than his suit. He was wearing a burgundy tie with yellow ochre stripes, matching his completion perfectly. He had red-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly askew. When he grinned, the man flashed a set of ivory teeth, perfectly straight and sparkling in the light.

"It's nice. You didn't paint it, did you?" Remus responded with a grin. It was Remus' own little joke, funny only to a particular few who had the same odd sense of humour as himself; nice was never used as a compliment.

The man returned the smile, russet eyes gleaming with something akin to excitement.

"If I said yes?"

"Then I'd tell you that your work is lovely and congratulations on the gallery show." Remus nodded, keeping his feigned confidence.

"And if I said no?" The man asked, a twinkle in his eyes and a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Then I'd tell you the work is adequate… for a contemporary piece of abstract painting. It's a pity that it's been done a thousand times before." Remus finished his thought with a grin of his own.

The man let out a sharp laugh, garnering the attention and glares of other patrons of the arts. Remus chuckled along, happy to have met someone who didn't take the art world so seriously. 

The man thrust his hand forward, grinning from ear to ear.

"James," he said, beaming.

Remus smiled and grasped the man's hand, giving a firm handshake. 

"Remus."

"Pleasure to meet you, Remus."

"Are you an artist?" Remus asked, trying to glean more information from his newfound acquaintance. James laughed again, running a hand through his already messy hair. 

"Me? No. Not even a little bit. I couldn't paint to save my life!"

Remus gave a casual shrug, glancing around at the other pieces of art on display in the gallery. 

"You don't have to paint to be an artist."

James shook his head with a playful sigh.

"Alas, I was born without a creative bone in my body. My wife, on the other hand…" James nodded towards the artist statement located next to the painting.

Remus felt the colour drain completely from his face as he realized James' implication, immediately regretting his decision of engaging the stranger.

"Oh, I am so sorry— " Remus began.

"Don't be!" James laughed, giving Remus a playful nudge with his elbow. "She hates this one, too."

"But I— "

"Honestly! She was gonna toss this one, but Sirius insisted on using it for his exhibition. Matched his aesthetic, apparently."

Oh.

James and his wife knew Sirius. Sirius Black. Owner of the gallery and curator of the show. Perhaps if Remus asked, he would be able to convince James to facilitate a meeting for him. 

"Oh!" James' exclamation interrupted Remus' thoughts. "I have to go. Sorry for cutting this short. It was a pleasure meeting you, Remus. I hope to see you around." 

Remus flashed James a well-practiced smile as he shook the man's hand, internally regretting not asking more about Sirius. As James disappeared into the crowd, it dawned on Remus that he had forgotten to exchange business cards with the other man. He groaned as he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth, mentally berating himself for his terrible networking skills.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice called from across the room, and Remus glanced up from his plate. "And everyone in between... I would like to welcome you here tonight, to the opening of Black and White."

The man who was speaking was unlike any person Remus had ever seen. He had alabaster skin that looked like it could have been carved from marble for all its perfection. A chiseled jawline, cheekbones so sharp, they could cut steel. His eyes were a shade of silvery blue, the exact colour of the sky on a perfectly stormy day, deep and expressive and frustratingly unreadable. He was wearing a navy blue suit with fabric that shimmered slightly in the light, paired with a tie that matched his irises. The man had long, dark hair, tied back in a slick ponytail, a brush expertly dipped in a bottle of ink. Remus couldn't help but admire this man who captured the attention of the entire room, his presence captivating the audience, radiating remarkable power and grandeur.

"As many of you know, this project has been in the works for some time now. Our exhibit, Foreshadow, is a perfect representation of things to come, of what you can expect to see from the gallery in the future. So, without further ado, enjoy the wine and the food and most importantly, the art!"

A round of applause broke out amongst the audience as the dapper man gave a dramatic little bow before turning away and greeting some of the gallery patrons. Remus couldn't help but stare as the man clasped James' shoulder, a bright smile flashing across his face. He shook the hand of a woman who wove her arm through James', presumably his wife. 

All three of them radiated light and joy, a warm glow surrounding them as they talked and laughed, greeting one another with broad smiles and kisses on the cheek. Standing alone by the edge of the room, Remus couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He longed for the types of interactions that these people had, the types of lives that they led. Living in the lap of luxury, these upper-class people had no worries, not a care in the world; they were able to follow their passions and have the security blanket of financial stability to catch them if their plans failed. 

Remus finished his plate of appetizers and turned towards the door. Today had been long enough, he didn't need to make it harder on himself by dwelling on things that could never be. 

"Remus!" A voice called out, right before he had reached the exit. He turned around to find James waving to him, a gregarious smile spread wide across his face. He beckoned Remus over and after a moment's hesitation, Remus decided to join the trio.

"Remus, this is my wife, Lily. She's the one who did that painting you were admiring." James gave a playful wink as Remus felt his chest tighten from embarrassment. 

Lily was tall and slender, with auburn hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. Her pale skin was dusted with freckles, Pollock-esque and surprisingly alluring. She had emerald green eyes, shining with the same depth that a real gemstone would, sparkling facets each releasing a different shade of brilliant green. Ruby read lips were parted in a genuine smile as a flush of pink spread across her cheeks.

Lily groaned and rolled her eyes before offering her hand for Remus to shake. 

"Please tell me he's not referring to the one near the entrance," she said, her smile never wavering.

Remus grasped her hand and shook it before responding.

"I had been looking at it earlier—" Remus began, unsure of where that sentence was headed.

"I can't believe Sirius put that one on display! It's wretched! It's so… derivative. It's been done a million times before. I think this idiot just liked the colours."

Remus smiled, grateful for Lily's honesty and humility. She was the type of artist that Remus could see himself working with.

"Speaking of this idiot," James said, turning to the person that Remus assumed was the illustrious gallerist. "Remus, this is Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Remus. We met while discussing art."

Remus extended his hand to Sirius, keeping his smile polite and professional, despite the sense of awe and terror threatening to bubble out. Sirius shook his hand, a confident smirk playing at his lips.

"A pleasure," Sirius said in his posh accent, his stormy grey eyes endless pools that Remus found himself sinking into. 

"The pleasure is all mine," Remus offered before tearing his gaze away.

"What is it that you do, Remus?" Sirius' question made Remus' heart skip a beat. This was his chance. The opportunity fell right into his lap, presenting itself on a silver platter. 

"I'm an artist, actually." Remus' cheeks were beginning to ache from his forced smile, but he kept it up. "I've been looking for the right gallery to show in for some time now."

"Well then," Sirius responded, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth turned up. "You'll have to stop by with your portfolio at some point. I'd be remiss if I didn't give James' friend an opportunity to show me his work." He put a particular emphasis on the word friend, as if he was entirely aware of the fact that Remus and James had only just met a few moments before.

"That would be amazing, thank you!" Remus had to strain to keep the excitement from his voice and remain calm in front of the gallery owner. 

"Excellent. In that case, I'll see you around, Remus." Sirius turned, gave Lily a kiss on the cheek, patted James on the shoulder, and went about mingling with his other guests. Sirius' lips wrapped around Remus' name hung precariously in the air, filling Remus up with a sense of— something— he didn't quite know what.

"Thank you," Remus sighed, feeling eternally grateful to James and his kindness.

"It was all Lily's idea," he said, flashing his wife a look of admiration. "She's the mastermind in this family."

Remus turned to thank Lily, but she cut him off before he could even begin.

"You're welcome, Remus. It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again soon."

As the couple walked away, Remus couldn't help but stare at their backs in disbelief. 

Did that really just happen? Had Remus actually just connected with one of the most influential names in the London art scene after a happenstance conversation with a stranger? As he walked back to his flat, the memories of the night replayed through his mind, over and over again, wondering how on earth he got so lucky. 

[teaandcrowns]

whispered truce

Chapter Seven: Diplomatic Solution, part iv

_________

It… was actually a really good idea.

Zuko wasn’t sure if it was surprise he felt that she’d come up with something so ingenious, or if it was embarrassment that he hadn’t thought of it first. It’s admiration, a voice that sounded curiously like his uncle’s whispered in the back of his mind. He ignored that voice. Behind him, the Avatar’s waterbender hovered over his shoulder, watching.

“You’re being distracting,” he said, a little irritably. Did she have to stand so close? His arm still tingled with a pleasant coolness from where she healed him.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry.” Except—she also didn’t move.

Zuko set the calligraphy brush on its porcelain stand and twisted to look back at her. “What is it? Did I miss a stroke in a character? Are my brush lines not clear enough? Do you have an issue with my wording?”

Despite his flurry of questions, Zuko didn’t expect an answer; he expected her to take the bigger hint and give him a little more breathing room. Forging a letter from the Royal Palace Ministry of Domestic Culinary Affairs took a bit more precision from his brush strokes than he tended to give them, and that was considerably more difficult to accomplish with a waterbender breathing down his neck.

She blinked a few times, as if not realizing she was practically invading his personal space. More frustratingly, she still didn’t move.

“I’ve never seen someone actually write that well before.”

That caught him off-guard. “Well, I mean—” he started. “My handwriting isn’t normally this formal. But it has to look official.”

“Still,” she said, leaning even closer over his shoulder so she could reach out and brush fingertips along the empty space to the left of his last line. “The lines are just so crisp and decisive.”

A strange shiver snaked up Zuko’s spine at her words, which he attributed to the time limit and pressure they were under to get this done and in the right place before dawn. He cleared his throat, giving her a pointed look which was completely hidden by the mask. Finally, she got the message and straightened, stepping away from him to walk over to the door of the storehouse. With nowhere else either could really think of, they’d headed back to the record keeper’s storehouse. It still stank in here, but once the waterbender had crystalized the air and captured what she said were droplets of the foul smell lingering in the air, it was bearable. Zuko had no idea what she was talking about, or how crystalizing a scent even worked, but he chalked it up to being a waterbender thing, and so had set to work drafting up a fake letter to forge.

Her plan was simple, but Zuko thought it had a really good chance of working. All the domestic shipments of food and cooking items that weren’t homemade by families or produced in local towns were shipped out from the capital. That included things like rice, barley-wheat flour, soy sauce—and nam-pla. The letter he was writing made the proclamation that an unknown number of nam-pla containers across several shipments got contaminated, and would soon go bad if they hadn’t already. It claimed that because the contaminant had been caught only after the shipments were dispersed, it would take too much time to send representatives to every location and check all the jars that had been already distributed to only get rid of the bad ones. In order to expedite the health and safety of all Fire Nation citizens, it is hereby decreed by the Ministry of Domestic Cultural Affairs of the Royal Palace that all current stores of nam-pla be disposed of. City, town, and village officials are to order a double shipment with their next procurement requests to the capital in order to replenish stores. Failure to comply will be considered a lapse in public stewardship of citizens and location officials will be dealt with accordingly.

“What if they don’t actually get rid of this stuff?” the waterbender worried from her spot by the door. It was cracked open to let fresh air in, and a slant of moonlight spilled in through the opening. “It’ll be really suspicious when no actual officials show up to ensure the jars have been disposed of.”

“They’ll do it,” Zuko replied, picking the calligraphy brush up again to finish the letter.

A beat of silence passes, and he can almost tangibly feel the tension of her concern. “What makes you so sure?”

He didn’t pause in his brush strokes. “I think the mayor here will spook easily enough and comply. From what I’ve gathered, people have only been getting sick recently, so being caught so quickly would most likely make him want to get rid of the evidence. After that, hopefully it won’t matter that Culinary Affairs officials never show up because the poison will be gone, and word will have reached the capital about the skimming he’s been doing here for the last few years.”

“But that also means people won’t be coming around to make sure every jar’s been disposed of. What if some families don’t?”

That thought had occurred to him, as well. Zuko frowned at the scroll, pausing only momentarily in his writing. They couldn’t afford to waste too much more time if he kept stopping mid-sentence. Beneath the wood of the Blue Spirit mask, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“We just have to trust they’ll all follow the order.”

He heard her pace a few steps behind him. “What if they mayor doesn’t let the people know? How can we be sure the word will actually get out?” Her pacing stopped short. “What if he thinks it comes from someone trying to work against him?”

It was strange, hearing his own concerns voiced so clearly to him. “I think,” he said, slowly, “that so long as this looks really official, he’ll do what it says.” Zuko finished the line he was working on. “I did put in that officials will be coming around to gather the emptied jars and check for compliance, so…”

“That worry will hang over him like a bad banana.”

“Yeah—wait, what?” Her comparison struck him so odd as to be funny, and it caused him to pause so long before starting the final line of the letter, he nearly forgot himself and let ink drip onto the scroll. Thankfully, he caught himself in time and moved the brush away. He’d have to start a whole other letter if a stray splatter of ink found its way onto what was supposed to be an “official” document.

He twisted back to look at her, and saw she had a sheepish smile on her face. She shrugged. “I don’t know, seemed like a fitting saying.”

Zuko shook his head and was glad that his own smile was hidden by the mask. “That was a really bad attempt at a metaphor.”

“Not if that bad banana falls on his head,” she insisted, and he honestly couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. Why would she be joking with him, after all?

“Is… the fake letter the bad banana?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“Well, the fake threat of officials coming from the Royal Palace are. The letter’s more the peel.”

Despite himself, despite everything, he almost laughed at that. At the sound, the waterbender seemed to realize the banter starting between them and thought better of it. She cleared her throat a little.

“How’s it coming along?”

Right. Back to business. But… the banter was a good sign, wasn’t it? Maybe if he won her over a little bit, she’d help convince the others that he should be the one to train the Avatar firebending. That was his ultimate goal, anyway.

“Nearly finished,” he replied, picking up the brush again and getting back to work. After a moment, he leaned back a bit to scrutinize his handiwork. “There’s only one thing left.”

“Where to take it?”

“Well—before that. The signature stamp.”

“Oh.” It was clear by the fall of her voice that she understood his concern. “Do you… know it?”

He knew it well enough—most of the Ministries’ seals were variations of one another, and incorporated some part of the seal of the Royal Palace. He’d had them all drilled into him relentlessly during his schooling, so much that he doubted he’d ever forget one. “That’s not the issue. I can recreate it, but it definitely won’t look like it’s stamped.”

“I think I can help with that, too. Can you write it on another scroll?”

Unsure of how exactly she could help, Zuko did as she asked anyway. With careful strokes he replicated the seal to the best of his memory. It was a pretty good rendition of it, that was for sure, but any other thoughts he might have had on it were interrupted by a soft crackling beside him.

The waterbender was shaping the end of a small block of ice while staring intently at the seal he’d replicated on the scroll. When she was finished, she carefully pressed the carved end against the still-wet ink, then used that to stamp the scroll beside the written seal.

“How’s that?”

He compared it to the one he’d written. “Almost. This line should be a little more tapered, and that one just a bit straighter.” Zuko watched as she made the adjustments and made another stamp. He nodded his approval. “Won’t the ice melt into the ink, though?”

The waterbender shrugged, unconcerned. “All ink is, really, is charcoal and water and a little thickening ingredient. I can just evaporate the excess water if need be, but it probably will be so little it won’t make a difference.”

Beneath the wood of his mask, Zuko’s eyebrow lifted in startled appreciation. “You know how to make ink?”

“I know how to make a lot of things,” was her reply. She moved her fingers over the seal he’d written with a fluid twist of her wrist, and the black ink glistened in the lantern light.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, just as she was poised to re-ink the seal. “It should be red.”

Quickly, he rummaged through the storeroom until he found what he was looking for—a small porcelain container with the iconic red seal ink that every letter-writing Fire Nation citizen had. He removed the lid and set it down next to the extra scroll.

“Here.”

With precision, she removed the outermost layer of ice on her block to clear away the black ink still clinging to the corners and contours she’d carved, then dipped the end into the container. Once the seal was coated in red, she hesitated and looked at the forged letter scroll.

Sensing her question before she asked, he directed her to the proper location for the seal, then held his breath for the brief moment she hovered directly above the scroll with the seal before pressing it firmly against the paper. When she drew back, Zuko looked over the letter, nodding.

“This looks…”

“Pretty official,” she finished.  “Do you know where it should go? Or who we should leave it for?”

“Yeah. But… it’s gonna be a little more involved.”

[chapitre7]

Alexandria Chapter V

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Time Travel/Sci-Fi AU

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV

Read on AO3

Lan Zhan isn’t in his room the next morning. Wei Ying searches, visits the library, goes up and down the floors, even goes as far as asking one of the other scholars (and gets ignored), and still can’t find him. He circles all the way back to Lan Zhan’s door but instead of the younger Lan, he finds Lan Xichen coming out of his own room, a book in his hands. Wei Ying lights up, beaming up at him.

 “Brother Xichen!” He calls, and the man bows politely, the usual smile on his face. “Lan Zhan...?”

 “Ah, young master Wei. Wangji was summoned.”

 “Summoned?”

 “The board called him,” Xichen clarifies, mistakenly assuming that Wei Ying hadn’t understood him the first time, but Wei Ying understood him well, having an innate talent for speaking other languages; it’s the idea that he struggles with. In the year Wei Ying has lived inside the compound, the so-called board of directors never called him once.

 “Why? Did something happen?”

 Xichen’s smile falters, and Wei Ying can already feel his fears taking hold, gripping him by the stomach.

 “Wangji has... missed some assignments. He hasn’t seen them in a while. He must be updating them.”

 Xichen makes it sound inconsequential, but Wei Ying still remembers what Lan Zhan told him the night before. He didn’t send any of his writings because he wanted to go through them with Wei Ying first, and he held extensive notes in his possession, for all of the places Wei Ying had talked about. To the board, Wei Ying was still an object of study, so was Lan Zhan being... disciplined? Gusu Lan used to have strict punishment rules, surely he wasn’t—

 “Young master Wei.”

 He focuses back on Lan Xichen. The man’s smile is back, as if it had never left, with a touch of understanding, the way his elder sister used to smile at him.

 “Wangji has a way of inspiring trust in people. This time should be no different.”

 Wei Ying blinks, tilts his head at the phrasing.

 “This time?”

 Xichen closes his eyes, and Wei Ying swears he’s laughing without making any sound. Frustratingly, he doesn’t elaborate, and the only thing he says before leaving is,

 “You should wait in your quarters, young master Wei.”

 Wei Ying does so, pouting and frowning all the way. He wants to see Lan Zhan. Wants to tell him that he spent a good portion of his night thinking about how they could write together. Add more details to Lan Zhan’s descriptions, more strokes to his already beautiful landscapes, more towns to his map. If they work together, he’s sure he can remember more and more, even with his faulty memory, because Lan Zhan makes it all come alive in his mind’s eye. He wants to tell him everything he can, and flourish what he can’t.

 He lets his upper body fall against the low table in the center of his room, just like Lan Zhan’s, touching his hand on the case of the dizi that always sits there, ready to play Lan Zhan’s favorite tunes. If the board allows it, he can be Lan Zhan’s partner and help him with his assignments. And even when Wei Ying isn’t the subject, maybe he can assist him in other tasks, discover things with him, walk with him, wherever, whenever. Maybe instead of the sea, they can aim for the sky, and discover the mysteries of the stars...

 Wei Ying falls asleep with his dreams running unrestrained, the incense Lan Zhan gave him burning and filling the room with a scent that is nothing but Lan Zhan’s touch, just like every other book Wei Ying now owns, the clothes he wears, and every thought he spares.

 ***

 It’s the movement that wakes him. The feeling of being lifted, of moving, but not falling. He’s fallen before — once, and it was enough; chilling, suffocating. He hasn’t felt himself being brought up, at least his mind doesn’t remember it, though his body seems to. He holds on when he feels the welcome warmth slipping away, fingers grasping pleasant fabric, nose seeking, touching the familiar scent that thrills his senses. He mumbles, “Lan Zhan”, before he even opens his eyes, barely able to see Lan Zhan’s face in the dim lights of his bedroom. It is already past curfew.

 “You should sleep on the bed,”  Lan Zhan says, sitting beside him when he doesn’t let go of his shirt, his arms moving to wrap around Lan Zhan’s middle.

 “I’m awake now,” he arguments, but he’s not entirely, wanting to curl up on Lan Zhan’s lap like a cat, nuzzle against him and fall asleep with his presence around him. He’s not conscious of how much of that want has made itself known, he’s very much in Lan Zhan’s personal space, can’t help it, has been wanting to talk to him and see him all day. He’s still too close when Wei Ying opens his eyes and looks at him, and he gives him a goofy grin that receives no reaction.

 “Brother said you wanted to see me,” is what he gets, and he backs away slightly to pout. Lan Zhan is not looking at him, just in his general direction, lips in a fine line. Wei Ying ducks his head, enters Lan Zhan’s line of vision, now more awake — but not totally —, his mind running wild with thoughts. Lan Zhan averts his eyes again, starts to speak, something about the board, unaware that Wei Ying isn’t really listening until he cuts him off.

 “Lan Zhan.” It makes him stop mid-sentence, blink, and lift his eyes. Wei Ying, who has spent too long of his short life receiving the wrong kind of attention, wants to be part of Lan Zhan’s day, wants him to look at him, wants him to look at him like he’s interesting and good. How old is A-Xian? His sister’s laughter is like bells every time he thinks of her. It makes him smile wider. “Would you cut my hair?”

 He doesn’t know why he’s stopped at that question, of all the things he wanted to say. It matters little when it makes Lan Zhan blink a cute confused blink.

 “Now?”

 Wei Ying nods. Lan Zhan doesn’t respond at first, seeming to ponder his request, then, with a sigh, stands up and leaves the room. Wei Ying rushes to one of the cushions by the table, sits cross-legged and wiggles his knees up and down until Lan Zhan is back with the scissors. He still looks cautious, brows furrowed, but approaches and settles behind the clearly excited Wei Ying.

 “Are you sure?”

 “Mn!”

 He can feel Lan Zhan’s fingers touching the ends of his hair, brushing against his back. He thanks the dim lights for hiding his shiver and the fact that Lan Zhan can’t look at his face. Now quiet and unmoving, he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the heat on his face, but it only makes him hyper-aware of Lan Zhan’s presence. It’s a good feeling, maybe even addicting, if not for the ache in his middle. He wonders, not for the first time, if his spiritual energy reacts to Lan Zhan. He lets out a laugh, an amused huff of air, at the idea of sharing his energy with Lan Zhan in ways different from playing music for him. He’s warmer still; being bad at meditating and emptying his mind sure is coming back to bite him then.

 “Wei Ying?”

 “Go for it, Lan Zhan.”

 “What style do you want?”

 He shrugs.

 “Whatever is the style of now.”

 A pause. Then,

 “Hold still.”

 Lan Zhan unties the red ribbon — his own gift — and Wei Ying’s hair falls long and free. The way Lan Zhan brushes the black strands is reminiscing of the way his sister used to, but that’s only because he has no other reference. Still, sister’s fingers were skilled, getting rid of his knots in no time, always giggling and telling Wei Ying that he was such a boy and should take better care of his appearance before expertly tying it half up with elaborate ornaments. Lan Zhan takes his time. One hand holds the comb, slides it down, the other follows its movements, fingers open, almost contemplative. Wei Ying is trembling, he’s sure, but other than that, he doesn’t move. He waits, almost painfully so, until the comb disappears and he hears the sound of the scissors.

 Would he end up looking like Lan Zhan and his brother? What did Lan Zhan have in mind? And whatever it was that Lan Zhan saw, would Wei Ying be able to see it too, clad in the same clothes as him, hair in the same style as his, looking no different from any other person in the building, or would he look like just a poor imitation, out of place?

 Wei Ying clenches his fingers on the fabric of his pants and waits. His hair falls and falls, layers of a past put to rest.

 At last, the comb is back. Lan Zhan’s fingers don’t brush against his back anymore, he can feel the ghost of his knuckles against his neck. It’s not as short as he expected it to be, but he smiles when he feels Lan Zhan comb it up, ultimately tying the ribbon back in a high ponytail. When he announces, “Done,” Wei Ying tries not to bump into him as he rushes up and towards the mirror in his bathroom.

 The ponytail is high and the end barely touches his nape. He moves his head from left to right, left to right. Lan Zhan didn’t touch his bangs but Wei Ying messes them up, tries to part them a different way. It looks nice. Perhaps even acceptable enough that the older scholars don’t feel the need to stare at him every time he walks by. He smiles and nods to his reflection, before turning back to Lan Zhan.

 In the time Wei Ying took with the mirror, Lan Zhan is almost done sweeping the fallen hair off his floor. Wei Ying leans against the doorframe, watching him clean, making friends with the buzz in his core when he looks at Lan Zhan. He’s meticulous with everything, not a single wasted movement, unlike Wei Ying, who jumps from idea to idea, forgetting the first by the time he gets to the fifth.

 He catches Lan Zhan’s hand after he’s done sweeping and before he can leave.

 “Lan Zhan, hear me out.”

 He pulls Lan Zhan by that hand, leading him to sit on his bed, where he starts talking about where they should begin, how they should work together. It’s disjointed, with no prompt or start, a thought that begins at the mid-day point since he’s spent so much time on it alone, but he pays no mind to sense until Lan Zhan calmly speaks,

 “Wei Ying.”

 When did he get so close to Lan Zhan? He forgot to let go of his hand, but he doesn’t look annoyed. His eyes seem to capture the fairy lights.

 “You should sleep.”

 “Lan Zhan,” he draws his name out in a whine, letting his head fall against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “But you’ve been gone all day.”

 “I’ll be here tomorrow,” is the placating reply, but Wei Ying is still making displeased noises as Lan Zhan gently but firmly pushes him away and down on the bed, pulling the covers over him as he probably meant to do when he walked in on Wei Ying sleeping. The ever-present care in the simple actions is enough to make Wei Ying cling to him again, hold his hand with both of his.

 “How was it with the board? Are they mad at you?”

 Lan Zhan shakes his head.

 “They understood.”

 “What did they understand, Lan Zhan?”

 Lan Zhan seems so unguarded as he looks down at him from his still sitting position. He can make out the worry and the words that make their mark on his lips, feel his hand hold back against his in the semi-darkness.

 “Wei Ying.”

 Wei Ying hums, tilting his head at him.

 “Are you not... still...”

 “Lan Zhan, I can’t hear you properly from here.”

 He tugs on the hand he’s holding. For all his endless ramblings, he had never known how to quite put his feelings into words. His sister had said it was because he felt too much and all at once, that it was hard for him to name them all. So he told her he loved her by eating all of her food and praising her as the best lady in the land, told his brother he loved him by annoying him into sparring practices and shouting curses, and told his family they meant so much but not quite everything with one last look behind before he took on his journey, embracing the weight of ingratitude placed on him by resentful disciplines and his own adoptive mother. With a tug on that hand, he expresses his last wish at the end of the world. He, who had come to the realization that he had wanted someone to take him in, show him the meaning of the vast infinity of the horizon, discover with him the mysteries he had always wanted to unveil. He had wanted to know all about the world, leaving his loyalty behind for the sake of a romantic life like in the books, only to realize it meant nothing on his own. He tugs, and he pulls, and hopes he’s caught.

 Lan Zhan allows himself to fall. He soundlessly exhales, appears to physically let down a heavy weight from his shoulders without quite collapsing onto the mattress. Like everything he does, his moves are thoughtful as he lies down, but even then, maybe inevitably, maybe just naturally, like gravity, like attraction, Wei Ying instantly draws closer, their still clasped hands marking the space between them.

 Pretty Lan Zhan. With a finger, Wei Ying lifts his bangs, tucks them away behind his ears so he can look at his eyes. How could he have missed the shadows at the corners, how small those attentive eyes were, and how Lan Zhan struggled to keep them open. Or maybe it was just then that Lan Zhan allowed it to be seen, in those right circumstances, like a spell with the right casting. A spell that breaks him free, overflowing emotions pouring out of his heart with reckless abandon, a wave breaking against his rib cage, out, out of him, all the way to the man whose cheek he caresses.

 Wei Ying crosses the space between them like it’s nothing. Maybe it had always been nothing, always just a thin line, a curtain of the lightest touch, see-through, liquid, through which they were always looking at the other, challenging the physics that separated them. Lan Zhan with his indulgences, his gifts, his warmth, and Wei Ying with his laughter, his curiosity, his unstoppable desire to be the center of someone’s universe. The kiss is feather-light, a caress, a breath. Lan Zhan’s head is barely on the pillow, their hands are still clasped between their bodies and there’s still so much to be said, to be discussed, to be understood, but Wei Ying has lost his balance and the thread of it all. He just knows Lan Zhan isn’t leaving and that he’s exhausted and lying there with all his defenses down. Or Wei Ying is. Neither push away, only closer. Kissing again, like the ever coming tide, eyes fluttering shut, whispers shared between breaths. Words that bear not much thought but promises and comfort and calm.

 They fall asleep there, the night almost giving in to the day, hearts laid bare to the dawn.

 ***

 For the next while, days blurring together in a pleasant present, they tread together along Wei Ying’s steps in his ancient, forgotten youth. They sit side by side in Lan Zhan’s room, the smell of his incense tickling Wei Ying’s core and bringing about details that had been buried in the corners of his ever-active consciousness. Wei Ying excitedly elaborates on the customs of villagers, on hard-working women who were both warriors and mothers and pillars, like his own adoptive mother once was. Sitting across from each other in the library, Wei Ying draws legends and fierce enemies he had defeated, as well as the heroes venerated by the sects, and more than one scholar stops by to look down at his work, nodding with approval, mouths gaping with barely contained interest. Wei Ying bites down his lips at times, afraid that his laughter will be misinterpreted from joy to offense, not now when he’s finally been able to appeal to their curiosity.

 A line is definitely crossed, though the road has been long and full of thorns. He trades the robes that were a mere simulation of his past for clothes in the same style of everyone else’s. He feels the loss of the weight of his robes more than he felt the loss of his long hair, as if he’s shed something important, something akin of a mask or perhaps a protection, a strength that came with the known. On the day Lan Zhan asks him to go sit outside with him for the first time, he gifts him a small bell on a purple string. It’s nothing like the one he used to wear when he was a boy, outstanding and memorable, but he takes it gleefully, tying it around his belt, announcing his arrival at every corner as he bounces and circles around a Lan Zhan that does little to hold back the amused tilt at the corner of his mouth.

 Draped across one of the white tables outside, Wei Ying whines about how he should have been allowed to come out sooner. Beside him, Lan Zhan hums in agreement, not looking at him, choosing to look at his pad with downcast eyes.

 “I’m sorry,” he says, soft words carried to Wei Ying like pollen in the breeze. Propping his chin on his open palm, his free hand moves closer to Lan Zhan’s, which sits on the table, fingers flexing nervously. The pale sun, shy between the clouds, melts their shadows into one.

 “Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan.” His name is sweet in his tongue; better yet, it’s addicting, akin to his favorite taste, the sharp notes of a liquor he hasn’t tasted in a thousand years, but it must have tasted like this, he’s sure. “You’ve given me so much. Between us, is there any need for apologies? I can only ever thank you.”

 “No,” is the immediate response, and Wei Ying’s smile falters, a moment between breaths. “You don’t need to thank me. You’ve given us... me, more than I could ever give back.”

 Lan Zhan makes the overcast day into a summer day; even if the wind blowing in their hair is wrong, it’s right in how his skin seems to glow with warmth, in how he wants nothing but to lie down, maybe right there, on that table, and bask in Lan Zhan’s sincerity and praise. He doesn’t do it, however, but moves closer, in their reinvented concept of personal space, his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, his arms hooked around Lan Zhan’s own.

 “No apologies and no thanks, then,” he says, too hopelessly happy to look back at those eyes that he feels on him. “What are we working on today?”

 They don’t work for very long in that lone spot of clean air and white flowers. The rain comes quick and without warning, thin but relentless. Lan Zhan runs for shelter without delay but Wei Ying lingers, eyes closed and mouth open, laughing at the downpour. He could stay there forever, for as long as the rain lasted, and wants nothing more than doing just that when Lan Zhan appears beside him. Despite being soaked, Wei Ying’s beams at the way Lan Zhan’s bangs cling to his face.

 “I remember being caught in the rain during a festival in Yunping city,” he says, voice rising to be heard over the raindrops. “The performers never stopped. They would dance with their clothes drenched, and the music was so loud, I could feel the drums in my chest. And I played my flute and they let me join their crowd.”

 “Play for me?” Lan Zhan asks, with a hint of pleading, with a touch of reverent. Wei Ying can only laugh again, dizzy with delight, and nod, Lan Zhan’s hand closing around his and pulling him back into the building that sits among the clouds.

 He plays a merry song as Lan Zhan dries his hair with a towel, both of them smelling of soap but still tasting the rain. After Lan Zhan combs his hair, he wordlessly reaches for the pad and starts writing, even though they had already worked for the day and hadn’t discussed anything for the evening. With his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, Wei Ying watches the verses dance across the screen like the entourage at Yunping, the poem painting the colors of their robes and lips and the laughter of the children. He lets out an amazed sound, crowns it with a “Lan Zhan is really amazing,” and laughs at the way the scholar’s ears are colored pink. With his diligence, intelligence and craftsmanship, Lan Zhan would have been an outstanding cultivator. With his unparalleled beauty, he would have been admired and respected. Yes, he would have fit perfectly in his time. With thoughts of belonging, Wei Ying nuzzles against shoulder, humming the music of Yunping as Lan Zhan writes, full of contentment at the harmony in the space they made their own.

 When the lights dim, Wei Ying moves them to the bed to talk in whispers. He plucks childhood stories from Lan Zhan like one plucks flower petals, asking for somebody to love. He teases and laughs, smiles into a kiss that knows no beginning and no end, the sound of their lips meeting over and over again filling the hours of the night, like rustling leaves in the wind, like flowing water, always rushing forward and forward, unstoppable and inevitable, like a summer storm.

 “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls his name, so overbearingly fond these days. Had he always said it like that or is the color in the darkness of Lan Zhan’s bed different, navy-blue like in dreams? The curtain keeps the outside obscured, out of place, out of time. He sees Lan Zhan’s face against the pillow in shadows, sees him in his fingertips that kiss his cheek. “What happened to you?”

 Wei Ying laughs, though it’s humorless. Just a reflex, though it hurts; just a little bit now. Just a tinge of regret.

 “Lan Zhan, what could have happened to me?” He says, turning, lying on his back, looking at the ceiling as though it’s the sky he used to sleep under, cold and alone. He never speaks of the North, and Lan Zhan probably noticed it. He’s too bright not to have noticed it, but not too kind to drop it. “I traveled and I learned. I met people and I lost people. I lived and I died, just like everybody else.”

 Lan Zhan’s hand lies on his chest, next to his heart, and he must feel the truth in his heartbeats. He hopes he can. It’s all he has to say.

 “Were you happy?”

 Wei Ying turns his head, inches closer until the cold tip of his nose meets his partner’s. Lan Zhan is always so close now and he’s addicted to it, almost desperate for it, as if he’s going to lose it. But when he wakes up, Lan Zhan is still there, just like he is then, awake in the serene darkness, one arm serving as his pillow, his other hand falling from his chest, seeking Wei Ying’s own hand, fingers intertwining like stems towards the moon.

 Was he happy? In his journey for knowledge, going as far as his feet would take him, though he had been too afraid, in the end, to reach for home, lest he found it gone, devoid of all the love and light there once was? Had he been too arrogant, too self-important? Too childish, too rebellious? He had dreamed of being a part of history, however small, but his own, not a parenthesis in someone else’s story. And now...

 “I’m happy now.”

 Lan Zhan uses the arm he’s lying on to pull him closer — will the fluttering in his stomach ever stop, his core spreading warmth all over his being? — but he’s as quick as ever, placing his digits on those waiting lips before they can claim his as they are growing used to.

 “If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

 He can feel Lan Zhan smile against his hand and he wants to invent a talisman that will keep the sanctuary of their late night confessions forever alight, like lanterns of promise, like fireflies in a lovers’ lake, so he can’t miss Lan Zhan’s smiles and his gaze, unwavering like Wei Ying had never seen before. Wei Ying collects himself and the mess of his adoration and tries to sound smart. To his ears, he only sounds lovesick.

 “Lan Zhan, do you have a dream?”

 He keeps his hand on Lan Zhan’s chest just like the other did for him, trying to read him while still patiently waiting for his answer. Lan Zhan’s heartbeats are steady then, and Wei Ying feels his hand fiddle with his hair ribbon, almost causing him to let out an undignified giggle. A fearless warrior, rendered silly. His brother had always called him silly and loud and dramatic. He wants to kiss Lan Zhan in broad daylight and prove Jiang Cheng right, so he can hear his yelling in thunders.

 “I want to...”

 At the pause, Wei Ying moves closer still, letting his hand fall from his chest so his arm can wrap around his middle. Wei Ying hums his encouragement, lets Lan Zhan feel its vibration in their proximity.

 “Do you want to rebuild your parents’ library? Be the most distinguished scholar? Learn how to play the dizi properly?”

 The hand that plays with his ribbon gives a slight pull, and Wei Ying lets out a half-yelp, half-giggle.

 “I want,” he restarts, and his next pause lasts a single breath, “to understand.”

 “Understand what, Lan Zhan?”

 “Where we went wrong. And how to be better.”

 “Lan Zhan, that’s not quite a dream.” Wei Ying huffs a laughter, but his mind is still, caught. It’s more than a dream, it’s an ideal, and admirable and beautiful. Like Lan Zhan. He closes the final, minimal gap between them, resting his forehead against Lan Zhan’s chest, fingers tangling in his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. “A dream would be more like... Finding the good in the world.”

 “Mn.”

 Wei Ying smiles, eyes closed, and all of his senses are Lan Zhan. The heart in the ivory tower.

 “Is that it then? Ah, my Lan Zhan is really too much, I really can’t take it.”

 They let the words pass them by, meaning evaporating in the air, unexplored.

 “And you?”

 “Mm?”

 “Wei Ying’s dream.”

 Wei Ying inhales, but doesn’t miss a beat.

 “That’s easy, Lan Zhan. I’ve traveled the Earth, so now I want to uncover the universe!”

 Lan Zhan’s hold tightens around him, and he can’t remember a time when they weren’t close anymore. What had changed, even, with time? So little. So much, the difference between proximity and intimacy. The moon, from new to full.

 “Do you think the directors will allow it?”

 “I’ll talk to them.”

 “Will you really?”

 “Mn.”

 He’s smiling when he kisses him, can’t bring himself to stop. Lan Zhan’s heart is beating so fast but he kisses with care, as if Wei Ying is something precious, as if the pace is not his to take. Wei Ying tips him a little further then, a little further every night that follows, presses him down with kisses, fingers discovering a new language that he never mastered in his old life. Being a lover is new, he has no master to name, but Lan Zhan catches him right where he ends, and he holds Lan Zhan when he trembles, when he’s vulnerable and undone with the extent of his own emotions. Wei Ying can’t stop calling his name, and he hears his own, whispered against his ear, against his mouth, in breathless huffs against his hair. He discovers, eventually, not in a moment or specific time, but knows. That he had lived a whole life discovering himself and now wants one where he discovers another. He wants the one where Lan Zhan lives and breathes and writes him poetry, where he looks beautiful when he’s focused, and where he smiles when Wei Ying is silly and playful and doing everything in his power to love him and be loved in return.

 Ah.

 Is that what it is to truly dream?

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 7

I really did a number on your patience with this one I think ;p. But here it is, the final part. (That’s the intention at least, who knows what will happen in the future). Anyways, thank you all for reading the story, especially if you made it till this one! :) Enjoy! 

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; part 5; part 6

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,643

“Talk to you later Danvers”, you breathe out, closing the door behind you and leaving Alex her apartment in shame and guilt. She sighed agitated and squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of your footsteps fading away. Being aggravated as hell while still seated on the couch with her arms crossed in anger.

“I definitely need something stronger than coffee…”. Alex grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. Or two. Maybe even three. It’s already a total mess at the DEO, with Colonel Hayley parading around, watching over the Director’s every move, and now THIS!? DEO Agents beating each other up, fighting over absolutely nothing. Alex has a soft spot for you, considering you both confessed your long-lasting feelings to one another in front of the bar earlier. But that doesn’t mean she can’t be mad at you. Maybe the alcohol will help her relax from this long, intense day.  

Trying to ease her mind while sipping the red liquid at a reasonable speed; more or less. Finally… some peace and quiet, when suddenly her phone buzzes. The screen lights up and Alex takes a quick peek to see who it is. It’s your name on the phone display. A deep sigh followed by a dramatic rolling of the eyes as she drops back, burying herself in the couch again. She doesn’t even think about picking up. You’re probably calling to apologize, or beg for forgiveness. Why can’t you just let it rest. Alex is not in the mood to handle anything else today. The phone buzzes again. “Ugh, I’ve had enough”. She grabs it from the table and turns the phone off, whereby the silence kindly returns.

After simmering down, and an entire bottle of wine, she decides to call you back. A thorough, flawless speech thought out, ready to be delivered since you've had more than enough time to think your selfish actions over. She lightly regrets playing ‘hard to get’ earlier, though you kind of made her. You were practically an asshole, so it’s your own fault she ignored you. Alex noticed you left her a voicemail and listens to it first. Best case, you came to your senses all by yourself by which Alex would be relieved of a frustrated outbreak on the phone. She puts the phone to her ear. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops while a small gasp escapes her mouth after she’d covered it with her hand. Without hesitation she jumps up from the couch and storms out of the apartment. It’s as if all the alcohol left her system in a snap of a second and she’s never been more focused -or worried- before. Slamming the door shut with a loud bang and while running she dials a number. Hearing it ring a couple of times, after which a person on the other end of the line picks up and speaks:

“National City General, how can I help you?”

///

“Am I ...still alive? …still breathing?”. Vaguely perceiving all kinds of beeping noises and a pungent, hygienic smell that’s hanging around makes you feel nauseous. Carefully opening your eyelids as you give yourself some time to adjust to the bright lights. All too familiar with the place you’re at. “Again? How many times is this going to happen?”. No recollection what time it is or even which day of the week ...or month? Different types of wires are attached to you and fluids with medicine is entering your body through the IV. You try to lift your head up and inspect the room, but it’s hard, almost impossible. Your whole body is aching, muscles are sore, and the pain caused you to let out a deep groan.

Hearing the low sound, Alex promptly jumped up, since she had fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted from the constant state of uncertainty she was in. You take in the sight of her, pale skin, red eyes and it seems she hasn’t slept for days. Now standing beside you at the edge of the hospital bed, she takes your hand and clutches it delicately. You try to speak.  

“H-how l-long... “, stuttering with a dry, hoarse throat. “Have I been on life support? On ventilation?”, you think, feeling your trachea burn and having difficulty speaking. Alex is aware of your struggle and answers: “You’ve been in a coma for weeks now. To reduce brain swelling and give your body time to heal.”

In shock, you gape at her as the color drained out of your face and try to point at your neck with your other hand. “They’ve had you on ventilation, yes. Does your throat hurt?” she caringly asks. You weakly nod at her. Alex averts her gaze towards the bleak hospital floor. “It-it was pretty bad… You were in pretty bad shape ...and had stopped breathing. I-I thought…”. She said with a trembling voice, not able to finish the sentence. You grip her hand tighter with all the strength left and press to her, now with a more audible tone: “I’m still here. Still breathing''. You've locked eyes with her again and watch Alex staring at your poor face. You smile at her, and she matches you by showing a faint grin when you notice she’s desperately fighting back the tears that are heaping up in the corners of her eyes. She leans forward and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead while a doctor enters the room.

“I see you’re fully conscious now. Good”, she says as you and Alex turn to her. “Given your history I don’t have to explain everything in detail to you, sadly. I won’t lie, you have a tough road up ahead”.

Knowing it all too well due to your past experience. You have to go through rehabilitation all over again. Only the thought of it makes you feel even more miserable. However, that’s not all. It’s also the feeling of being weak, helpless, not able to do easy or simple tasks yourself since you don’t have the strength for it, yet. You have to start at square one again, and this time it’s your own damn fault. Alex noticed the sad, hopeless expression and strokes your shoulder gently. You look at her. This time you're not alone, Alex has been beside you, from the moment you were brought in injured up till now.

“I’m not going to leave your side, not ever. I’ll be here with you, every single step of the way”. Those words hit you right in the feels as teardrops started to run down your face. You tried to pull her closer with the little power you have in your hand which Alex was still hanging on to. Luckily she understood the hint and moves closer while she cups your face with both her hands. Brushing her thumbs across your cheeks mildly, wiping the tears away. Bringing her lips to yours, kissing you, slow and passionate, as if she thought this would have never, ever been possible again. You taste the saltiness on her lips, since Alex wasn’t able to hold her tears back any longer. By that time the doctor had left to give you a moment alone and to let it all sink in. However, with impeccable timing Kara barged in and rushed towards you, seeing that you’ve woken up. You and Alex being kinda busy, in a legit emotional sentiment, while Kara swoopes in, now at the other side of the bed. She squeezes herself in between Alex and you to make room and gives you a hug.

“Can’t breathe”, you moan, because Kara her hug is obviously too tight, and not to mention the weakened condition you’re in. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so glad you’re awake”, she apologizes as she quickly pulled back. Kara straightens her glasses and immediately starts to talk, telling you stories about her Supergirl adventures with Dreamer, who you’ve apparently met before, reporter news, how matters at the DEO progressed, about J’onn and his PI office, and many more. It hurts, cause these are all moments you missed out on. Although you love the distraction, not having to think about the obstacles you’ll need to face, and it’s nice to know that everybody is doing well. Being hesitant at first, and undeniably a little pissed at Kara for ruining the moment back there, Alex joins the story telling later on, seeing you enjoy hearing them. After a while she notices you’re getting tired, knowing Kara can be rather overwhelming. “I think (Y/N) needs to rest for a bit”, she mentions and raised her eyebrows as she’s looking at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Eh, yes. Um- I’ll go. See you later (Y/N)! I’ll tell the others you’re awake!”, Kara responds while leaving the hospital room in a rush. “Bye Kara”, you deliver too late, cause she’s already gone, and you turn to Alex. “Something wrong?”. You’ve sensed a weird vibe hanging around the entire time since you’ve woken up. You can clearly see it in Alex her dazzling, brown eyes. It’s guilt. Alex takes a step back from the bed, thereby letting go of your hand, instantly losing her warm touch. She stays quiet, avoiding eye contact as she’s gazing out the window while biting her lip nervously. “Alex, is it about the phone-”.

“It’s all my fault that this happened. I’m the reason you left the apartment and I-I didn’t pick up the phone and I was too late at the hospital and I said those mean, awful words and I-”. “STOP”, you interrupt, now coughing due to the loud voice you had to use, heart rate spiking which is displayed on the monitor.

“It was my mess that caused this. And that asshole of a DEO Agent of course…”, you mutter. You really hate that guy. "I picked that fight and- Wait... what mean, awful words did you say about me?”.

“Ow, um- no, I said some, like, awful things inside my head. Which I deeply regret now-”, Alex confesses while rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “It’s okay”, you chuckle, she's just too good for this world and you probably deserved it anyway. “It’s all good”.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you”. Alex takes a step closer again and pauses. “I thought that ...I was never going to see you again. To speak to you again. To hold you again…. To kiss you again”, she whispers with a quivering voice. “But I’m still here. And you're here. With me. That’s all that matters now”. Meanwhile, you carefully shifted to the left side of the bed, creating some room on the small mattress. Glancing at Alex and making an inviting gesture while tapping on the empty spot with your right hand. You feel her warm body moving closer as she comes lying next to you. Her head resting on your chest and you wrap your free arm around her, wanting to hold her forever and to never let her go. "I've missed you", Alex voices in a softhearted tone and closes her eyes. She’s extremely tired, now finally able to get some well-deserved rest, knowing you’re all right and that everything will be fine.   

“What happened to that DEO Agent anyway?”, you suddenly remember. Kinda hoping he got punished for what he did. “He got arrested for assault and is locked up”, Alex answers directly, her eyes still closed. “Good, he got what he deserved”. It’s quiet again, aside from the occasional sound made by the medical equipment in the room. Breathing frequency becoming slower and slower, relaxing in your arms, dozing off, almost asle-

“Did you guys have game nights without me by the way?”. “Come on (Y/N), you need to sleep”, Alex suggests as she lifted her head up, now staring at you with a commanding expression on her face.

“Copy that, Director Danvers”, you return with a smirk, kinda loving the bossy side of her. She’s right though, you’re completely worn-out and need to recharge. But you can’t help it, wanting to cherish this moment for as long as possible. You grip her tighter, or at least try to, to keep her close, to feel her touch, her warmth, her heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and despite the delay, you’re together, at last.

///

A sudden slip to the right, followed by mean right hook. The muscles in your arms and shoulders are burning. Completely out of breath, deeply inhaling to fill your lungs with oxygen. And exhale again. Sweat is coating your forehead and you wipe it off with your arm. You’re a total mess. Only one round to go and then you’ve reached the goal. Throwing a sprint of punches, as fast as you can, it’s mind over matter now. Stopping at the sound of the timer reaching zero, you’re finished. Removing the boxing gloves to grab a towel from the floor nearby to clean yourself up.

“Okay, that’s enough for today”, you pant, weary from the intense workout on the heavy bag. It's been a rough couple of months, you've had extensive rehabilitation training, needed time to heal and were not spared of the pain that came along with it. Giving up was never an option, but becoming your old self again is highly unlikely. The damage has been done, you can't change the past anymore. But you've made peace with it, well, sort of. Luckily you've had tons of support. Friends visiting at the hospital and swinging by your place frequently once you were discharged. It feels so good to be home again. 

While unwrapping your hands, you hear the doorbell of the apartment buzz. Looking up in surprise, who could that be? You rush to the door while throwing the boxing wraps aside, nearly tripped over them, and unlock it. Standing in the doorway, you feel your heart rate rising again, now for a different reason. Still happens every damn time. A satisfying smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.    

“Hi, forgot the keys again?”, you laugh, lifting up your eyebrow as you smoothly lean against the door frame. “Yeah... but I brought some take-out with me”, Alex counters, pulling up her right arm to show off the bag which carries a delicious scent with it. It would be outrageous to deny this offer of course.   

“Permission hereby granted”, making a humble bow and a gesture with your arm to invite her in. “Also cause I’m literally starving”. Rubbing your stomach with your hands, only being a little dramatic, and you close the door behind you. "Easy (Y/N), you're not turning into Kara are you?".

“Ha. Ha, funny", you sarcastically return."But I’m gonna take a quick shower first. Don’t you dare eat it all Danvers”. Alex placed the food on the kitchen counter and shrugs her shoulders while raising her eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I need something in return then”.

"You sure? You don't want me to shower first?", you assure, still being kinda sweaty with a specific smell that goes with it. Alex walks to you and throws herself into your arms while you place your hands on her hips, her arms resting on your shoulders. "Absolutely sure". Pulling Alex closer and wrapping your arms around her waist as you press your lips onto hers, giving her a desirous kiss. You have to admit, the years of denying and avoiding your feelings for Alex makes you feel utterly stupid, looking back now. Seriously, you were an idiot. A wide smile appears while kissing Alex, because you've never been happier.  

"I love you (Y/N)", Alex softly speaks after she pulled back. "I love you too Alex". Her forehead is resting against yours. "And I'll never stop, as long as I’m still breathing”.    

[honeysuckleharrison]

Run For Your Life - Part IV

pairing- George Harrison x Reader

warnings- So much fluff

year- 1964

Word count- 1.7k

Summary- You're falling hard for George.  There's just a few problems. John Lennon is your protective older brother, and their band, The Beatles are leaving for their first tour in America.  

Disclaimer/ AN-  So hi, this is the first fic I've published.  This is FICTION. So the timeline may not match up with reality.  For example, Julians not in it. So ignore that, and just enjoy the story for what it's worth.  Anyways, I'm so excited to release my first fic. If you guys have any questions, or comments or anything, please comment or as, don't be afraid to talk to me. Huge shutout to @iimplicitt she helped me edit, and such. Thanks so much girl!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You go straight to the studio after breakfast with John.  John, and the other boys were caught up in the music, making sure everything was perfect.  But George's attention was on you. You would look at John to make sure he wasn't watching, then you would look George and let all your feelings out, blushing, and giggling.  He did the same back. It did result in you making awkward eye contact with John a few times.  You prayed that he didn't notice how flustered you were. It didn't last the whole time though, Geroge got caught up in a melody he was working on.  You didn't mind. Watching him working and concentrating on something was so precious. The way he smiled when he finally got it right was so charming.  

      After they were done recording, John was too busy, fighting with Paul, again, so you went to George.  

      "Hi love" he said in the same quiet manner that most of you conversations had to be in.

      "Hi, I really enjoyed watching you play" you said, complimenting him, "You're really good" you made your voice even quieter, "and you look really cute when you're focusing."  You watched his expression changed from casual to a redder more flustered look.

      "Y/n!" he whispered little louder, "not here. Strawberry Fields, in an hour ok?"

      "Ok, Geo" you agreed, "I'll see you then"

      "I can't wait, flower" he said smirking at you.  He called you flower. That was by far the most charming thing anyone has ever said to you.  Despite his dark appearance, and sarcastic tone, he can be so sweet. He was so hard to understand but you felt like you were starting to get to know his personality.  

      The hour passed fast.  You took your time getting ready, putting on a red lipstick to show him something different.  You slipped out the door when John wasn't looking, and headed out.

       When you reached Strawberry Fields, you were amazed.  The backyard was closed in by a tall black fence. In the cracks of the fence grew huge vines, and a variety of flora.  The building was abandoned, and unkempt. Nature had claimed the building as its own. Humankind can spend so long building something up from the ground, putting all their best resources and knowledge forward.  But as soon as they stop maintaining their creation, the natural world claims it as their own.

      You slipped through a space in the fence.  You had known it was there, and so did every kid who grew up in Liverpool.  This was everyone's safe place. Despite the dark, gothic architecture, and the rubble that surrounded it, it was a safe place.  As you stepped in, you saw George sitting on a picnic blanket in the middle of the overgrown lawn. Inside the dark fence, the grass was shades of bright green and yellow.  He smiled at the sight of you and stood up. His hair moved in the wind, and his happy eyes were looking into yours. He opened his arms for you, and you ran into them. You were once again in one of George's hugs.  They were your favorite thing. His skinny frame was so nice to fall into.

       "I brought you Strawberries and wine, Love." George said through a smile.  

      "How fitting" you joke, "Can we eat hun."

       "Of course flower, take a seat."

       You and George sat next to each other cross legged on the blanket.  He sparked a conversation about the recording session from earlier. He asked if you liked what they were working on.  You answered honestly and explained that you were so proud of them. It was crazy to see your own brother rising to fame.

      It didn't take long before George poured you a glass of wine, and started feeding you strawberries.  He was being so sweet to you, but the sweetness soon melted into something more. George laid you down on the blanket and started kissing you.  You didn't realize your dark red lipstick would soon cover his face and neck. You were both so caught up in each others touch that you didn't notice the sun beginning to set, or the crimson color that littered George's face.

      George brought his hands up right below your neck and wrapped them around you.  He was choking you without actually hurting you. His hands felt so good on your bare skin, and you let out a moan.  He pulled his face off of yours.

      "You good love" George asked, panting.  

      "Yes, I'm amazing." You said, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that you were being pinned down by George's sizable hands, and slim frame.  Your body was limp and you were totally defenseless under George. And you loved it.

      You looked at George's face.  He was still panting and his face was red.  His face was also covered in your lipstick. He looked ridiculous, you couldn't help but giggle.  He laughed back. You looked down and noticed the bulge in his pants. You looked back up at his face and said "But are you good?"  George laughed.

      "Yeah I'm better than ever." he answered.  "Why, is there something wrong?" he asked looking around himself, and brushing off his shoulders.

       "No," you giggled, "Your face is just covered in lipstick." He quickly started wiping his mouth with his hand.  He had no luck in trying to get the crimson off his lips, it had stained.

      "I don't think it's gonna come off Geo." you said.  "And it looks like you got a little excited." You pointed down and his gaze followed.  As soon as he noticed what you were referring too, he gave you a toothy smile, and his cheeks somehow became even redder.  Geo let out a small laugh, and seemed a little embarrassed. He rolled off of you and laid next to your warm body. He let out a big sigh, before looking at you.  You looked at each other for a while. Your eyes traced all the lipstick you had left on his face, and you noticed how messy his hair had gotten. You leaned in and kissed each other sweetly.  His mouth tasted of strawberries, and his eyes closed so gently.

      Pulling away, he looked into your eyes and said "Your beautiful, truly."  He reached a hand up and stroked your cheek. You grabbed his wrist in response and rubbed his smooth skin with your thumb.  

      You rolled over and looked at the sky.  The sky was becoming darker, but you had time before John would start to worry.

       "Please," George said, "tell me about yourself some more."

        "Well, I dunno," you said, trying to decide what to say, "I just finished my first year of university."  You turned back towards George, and looking into his sweet eyes.

      "What are you studying again?" he asked.

        "English.  I'm hoping to become a writer." you answered.

         "Why do you like writing" he wondered.

        "Well, I suppose it's because I like being in A world where everything happens for a reason.  When you write, every single sentence has a purpose, a reason. It's nice to think all the pain, all the hard times you've been through were for a reason." you said, gesticulating your words.  You really did like to write, it let you escape your world, and become part of your character's world.

          "Who's to say that everything doesn't happen for a reason in real life too?" George asked.

         "I don't know, I've just never believed that they do.  I've never really been spiritual like that before, y'know?  I just think were just here, living, not for any reason." you explained.  

       "I think things do happen for a reason.  To me, the universe isn't all an accident, y'know?  I guess I just think more 'spiritually' than other people.  Maybe people get resurrected. Who's to say? It's just a nice way to think, and there's no reason not to think like that."

        "You're right, thank you for enlightening me"  you joked

       George giggled, then proceeded, "Think about it, things do happen for a reason, the earth is billions of years old, yet we managed to exist in this form at the same time."

         "You flatter me, Harrison."

        "Maybe that's my purpose."

        "You're too good to me" you said.

       He leaned in and kissed you softer than ever.  You could feel every crease on his lips. It was such a loving embrace that you felt strong feelings for him in that moment.  Not love. Love would come later. After you spend more time with him. But nonetheless, this feeling was strong, and had really made you fall for him.  

      As the night went on, you and George continued your deep conversation.  He was so smart. He had obviously spent a lot of time thinking about life, and its purpose.  Overall, he seemed relaxed about it all. George thought that life wasn't very serious. He believed that we're all here to have a good time.  He didn't think much of tragedies. They were sad, of course, but pain is simply a part of life

       Some of his ideas were nieve, but so were yours.  You were young; it was only natural.

       The day started ending.  The sky became a darker shade of blue, and shades of pink and orange littered the heavens.                       

       "I should be going now, i don't want John to worry." you explained

      "You sure you have to leave, Love" George whimpered, "I'd love to see you again, maybe tonight?"

      "I don't want to leave you either, Harrison, but it's getting late.  Maybe I will stop by again tonight." you said, turning to him and winking.  

      "Yes please." he begged.

        You both stood up, and wiped the grass off your clothes.  George picked up the basket he had brought with him. You both reached down to grab two corners of the blanket, and folded it together.  

      " Should I walk you home, y/n?" he asked.

      "I don't think that's a good idea, what if John sees your face covered in lipstick?" you answered.  

      "Ah, I forgot about that," George admitted.

      Before you parted ways, You leaned into each other for one last embrace.  As George stepped away you called him back.

      "Wait" you cried.

       "Yes, Love?" George said, turning around to face you again.  

      "So, are we.. ya'know," you hesitated, "Dating now?"

       "If you want to, Flower." he answered lovingly, "I'd be honored to date such a pretty girl."

      As the words left his lips you walked back to him and held him tight.  You kissed George softly before speaking.

      "Then we're dating." you said softly.  You broke away from each other, and squeezed through the fence.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

AN- If you wanna be added to my taglist for this fic PLEASE tell me. If you liked it let me know, and if you didn't, tell me why. This part makes me blush so hard. I loved writing it. I hope you enjoyed it. Do you have any predictions yet? Cause let me tell you it gets crazy.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Big Spook (Peter Parker x Reader - Finale)

Synopsis: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves… but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.

Tags: Aged Up!Character, College AU, Established relationship, Whump, Angst. Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.

Word count: 5.1k

Part 5 <<<

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) didn’t believe her own eyes, and by the time the initial shock wore off, the room was stormed by nurses who came to check on a very confused Peter. They made him lie down again and he resisted at first, trying to keep eye-contact with (Y/N) who still stood there like a statue.

What was wrong with her? She shook her head and quickly went to stand at the end of the bed so she wouldn’t be in the nurses’ way. They asked Peter questions, pointed a small light into his eyes to check his pupillary response, scribbled down unreadable notes and checked the machines he was connected to.

“What’s happened?” Peter asked again, panic slowly rising in his chest as so many people flooded into the white room and began to touch him. “(Y/N)! What’s going on? Are we at the hospital?”

“You’re at Stark Tower, kid,” answered the oldest nurse, flipping through his file. “You gave that one a real scare, you know? You ought to be more careful out there.”

She shook her head with a disapproving pout on her lips, as if she had had enough with patching up reckless superheroes who didn’t think twice before jumping headfirst into a fight. Peter’s frown deepened.

The nurses took the needles out of Peter’s arms as he would no longer need to be fed and hydrated through IV now that he was awake, and after a last few health checks, they left as quickly as they came. But not before the older nurse told Peter to stay on this bed until morning when the doctor came in, or so help her…

Once alone, (Y/N) and Peter stared each other down, eyes wide with confusion and emotion. It was clear that Peter had many, many questions, and she just stood there like a mute idiot.

“Peter,” she said, a wave of relief slowly hitting her now that she could once again stare into his eyes.

Yet another sob threatened to come out of her mouth, so she clasped her hand on her lips, trying to keep it in but doing a terrible job. Her eyes watered up so quickly she didn’t even have the time to try and swallow the tears.

Her feet finally moved and she found herself crashing into Peter, half sitting on the bed to hold him in her arms, barely able to contain her joy and not squeeze the life out of him – that would have been a shame after everything they went through. To be frank, she counted on the fact that his body sustained no more injuries at this point, because every part of her yearned to be in his arms and never leave again.

“Sh, shh,” Peter whispered, stroking (Y/N)’s hair while she cried on his shoulder, wetting his hospital gown. He would want to get out of that as soon as possible, she should call May to tell her the news and ask her to bring clothes. “Please don’t cry, (Y/N). Whatever happened, it’s over now. I’m here…” he soothed her gently, not even sure she could hear him over her own cries.

“I thought you would die for real this time! I thought you were going to die,” she kept repeating, not letting go of him and rocking them slightly.

Peter was at loss. What on earth happened and why was (Y/N) so upset? When looking around him, he thought he was in a hospital, so he must have been seriously roughed up to end up here. He hated being the reason why she cried...

“I thought I’d lost you,” she sobbed, trying to calm down the waterfall. “I really thought- I thought-“ she hiccuped, unable to go any further. “I was so scared, Peter. Never do that again!”

The rational part of her brain told her that he didn’t even know what he had done, but the words simply stumbled out of her mouth of their own free will, she had no control anymore. Her hands clung to Peter and she couldn’t string together coherent words, but she was so utterly happy and relieved that she simply could not find it in herself to give a damn.

“I promise, (Y/N), I promise,” Peter swore, pulling away just enough to meet her tearful gaze so she would know he meant it. He brought a hand up to wipe away some tears from her rosy cheeks. “I’m so sorry I made you worry.”

He held her face in the palm of his hands, thumbs lightly brushing away the last tears rolling down her cheeks, feeling her regain some composure now that he was out of danger. He had no idea what he did to put (Y/N) in such distress, but he didn’t need to know to vow he would do everything in his power to never let it happen again.

Seeing her like this was a stab in the heart. Peter thought he must have really messed up this time because she was usually pretty good at staying calm and collected when he came home injured. His memory was blurry, but he remembered finally managing to stop the villain he was after…

His head shot up.

“The villain!” he exclaimed, making (Y/N) frown a bit. “I fought with him, I webbed him to a streetlight. The police-“

“They found him,” she assured him, wrapping her hands around his wrists to put them in her lap. “He won’t hurt anyone anymore now. They put him back in his cell.”

“Back?” Peter asked, even more confused.

“Yes, he was a fugitive. He escaped from his prison in Florida, nobody knows how yet and he won’t speak. Last I heard, they sent him back and placed him in isolation,” she informed him. She hadn’t watched the news again since the first day, but Happy had made it his duty to tell her what happened to Peter’s attacker.

“I know how he did it, and how he kept evading me!” Peter suddenly told her. “He had this device that made him invisible. I managed to take it from him, but not before he-“

Peter paused, eyes getting unfocused and (Y/N) shuffled closer, still holding his hands.

“Peter?”

He slipped a hand out of her grasp and touched the spot on his scalp where his head wound had been. All gone now.

“-not before he shot me,” he concluded. Then, his eyes darted on (Y/N) again, plunging in her concerned gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

*

“For once in your life, Peter, just let me carry the fucking bags.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and shook her head when Peter pouted at her, obviously not too happy about being treated like a cripple.

“I’m fine though, I swear!” he argued, flexing and doing a squat to prove his point. “Look! Like new.”

“You just woke up from a nearly three-week coma, will you quit it?!” she snapped, not actually mad but trying to sound stern to make him stop his shenanigans. “You’ll give me a heart attack!”

That seemed to work. Peter bit his lip and put his hands in his pockets, pretending to kick a rock on the ground.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I never thought something like this would happen…” he apologized for the thousandth time since he woke up a week ago. He had been ridden with guilt ever since.

It had been a wild week, for both of them, but the worst of it were the first twelve hours. Peter might have been sleeping around the clock for weeks, buthe could already feel the familiar drowsiness coming back. His body was tired from all the healing it had done, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t need the rest. He hadn’t worn his new suit since he came back.

Granted, (Y/N) was keeping it under lock until she decided he was well-enough to go back on Spider duty. Peter thought it unnecessary. First, he wouldn’t risk his own life again so soon after barely making it out alive from a fight, and two, he wouldn’t go against (Y/N)’s wish if it put her mind at ease. Peter didn’t know what he would have done if the roles had been reversed.

But to have his girlfriend carry up the stairs the huge bags of groceries that he knew were very heavy and the straps hurt her fingers, that was taking it too far. She simply wouldn’t let him do anything that could exert him.

Then again, he should feel lucky he got to go home with (Y/N), because if it had been aunt May… She went properly crazy when (Y/N) called her the morning after he woke up – he had coaxed her into waiting until sunrise to call his aunt, because he didn’t want her to travel all across New York in the middle of the night. And to be entirely fair, she did not put up much of a fight and they stayed huddled on his small bed, holding onto each other for dear life.

May had cried, yelled, cried and yelled at the same time. There were tears and smiles and Peter didn’t know whether she was mad at him or happy. But he, for one, was happy to see three of his favorite people gathered in this room. May had sat on the other side of his bed, opposite (Y/N), and they all engaged in a long conversation about his recklessness and the fact that he needed to be more mindful of his own safety – for their sake if not his.

They also gave him the Captain American teddy bear that Ned brought for him, and Peter laughed, but not as much as when he saw the card that went with it. It had a sad puppy on the front and on the inside there was a single sentence in comic sans: You gave me a big spook! It was surrounded by notes and get-well soon messages from his friends.

Then, Dr Cho arrived and asked them to exit the room while she performed the last exams. Not even half an hour later, he was free to go. (Y/N) had gone back upstairs to get her things and said that she would meet them at the door.

Peter received his second big, bad news of the day right then. All he had wanted was to get out of his hospital gown – how could something so minimal be so uncomfortable? - finally put on some normal clothes and go home to sleep for two days straight.

But May had other plans.

“(Y/N) knows that you want to propose,” she blurted out as soon as the door closed on (Y/N). Happy had left too, preparing the car for them.

“What?” Peter squeaked out, the sound coming out of his mouth barely recognizable as his voice. Had he heard right? “Come again?” No, it was definitely his voice, only it had gone up several octaves.

“It’s a minor slip-up, she took it well!”

Far from reassuring Peter, this only made him lose some colors.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” May asked, fists on her hips, looking extremely unimpressed. “You’re Spider-Man, get it together.”

“You told my girlfriend I was going to propose to her while I was in a coma?” Peter grumbled through his teeth – no need to speak any louder, if anyone else found out, he would really faint, if only to get out of this awkward situation. “How did it happen?”

May began to ramble about how she overheard (Y/N) on the phone with her boss, “who was very unpleasant from what I could tell,” she said, already drifting away from the subject. Apparently, he was giving her a hard time about not going to work and staying by his side, so she yelled at him something about his wife being at the hospital and what he would do then?

“But the point is, she told him you were her fiancé. So, of course I jumped to the conclusion that you had asked her-“

“You did not.” Peter sucked in a breath, not ready to hear what came next even though he already knew she did, in fact, do it.

“I congratulated her on your engagement!” May blurted out, looking even more embarrassed and guilty as before. “I couldn’t have known she only said that because if he thought it was a family matter, he would leave her alone!”

“Oh, my God,” Peter lamented, falling back on the bed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“This wouldn't have happened if you'd hurried up and proposed already!”

When he finally got over May’s news and got dressed before joining everyone at the front door, he could barely meet his girlfriend’s eyes. Act normal, act normal. Her couldn’t act normal; his girlfriend knew he had been wanting to propose for months but was too chicken-shit to actually do it.

And now they were walking up the stairs to their apartment, arguing back and forth about why he wasn’t allowed to carry the heavy groceries and had to walk behind her while she struggled.

“I feel useless,” Peter groaned, unable to help himself. He just liked to tease (Y/N) more than was good for him. “Is this what it feels like to be you most of the time? I get why you don’t like it when I go fight crime.”

“Shut up, nerd!” she countered, laughing. “Seriously, don’t make me laugh or I’m going to trip.”

They made it up without any more interruption from one recovering Peter Parker. After she set the bags on the kitchen table, she grunted and stretched until her back popped.

“See?” Peter’s voice came from behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her left shoulder. “Should’ve let me carry ‘em.”

“I don’t mind,” (Y/N) giggled. “Need to maintain these guns one way or another.” She flexed for him, making them both laugh, and Peter turned her around so she would face him.

It didn’t take much for Peter to get lost in (Y/N)’s eyes – they were an endless pool of trust and love. He could drown in her affection. One of her hands rested flat on his chest, right above his heart, and he wondered if she could hear it pick up speed when he leaned in to capture her lips. It never failed to fluster him just a little bit, and he thought it was a good thing.

He held her waist in his hands, feeling her back arch a little as she leaned into him, pressing her body against his while he slipped a hand under her shirt to feel her blazing skin beneath his fingertips. (Y/N) melted into the kiss, parting her lips to deepen it and quench a thirst that knew no relief since Peter woke up.

She had been so close to losing him, it was as though something inside her, a kind of hunger, awoke, along with a feeling of urgency. She simply could not wrap her mind around how close they came to catastrophe.

Peter seemed just as eager as her, if not more, to gets things moving. He stepped forward, forcing (Y/N) to walked backwards and right into the kitchen counter. Their lips parted for the briefest moment when Peter grabbed her by the thighs to pick her up and sit on her the counter, standing between her legs.

He loved the low moans tumbling off her lips when he dived on her neck, strewing hot kisses from her jaw down to her shoulder and began to suckle on her weak spot.

“Peter…” she gasped, one hand nestled in his neck, playing with the hair on his nape. She jerked her hips forward, almost falling off the counter, but Peter put his thigh between hers to prevent her from slipping.

He nearly lost his mind when he felt her start to rub herself against his thigh, little moans coming out of her mouth while Peter pushed down the strap of her top and bra to continue his ministrations.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he told her, pulling away and then pressing his lips against her. He pecked her several times, enjoying the feel of giddiness radiating off her. “Dinner can wait.”

*

It was well past dinner time and they still hadn’t eaten or even prepared anything, but neither of them gave a single damn at the moment. They were too busy enjoying that pillow talk and lazily kissing each other on the bed, snuggled up, naked and content. Post-coital bliss was a thing, and nothing else mattered right now.

Peter hummed to himself, his fingers absentmindedly running up and down (Y/N)’s spine, making her shiver.

“Stop it,” she chuckled, feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin. “It tickles.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Peter countered, smiling down at her. (Y/N) titled her head up, hand flat against Peter’s chest and chin resting on the back of it. He booped her nose, making (Y/N) scrunch it up. “You’re too adorable.”

(Y/N) bit her lip to hide her growing smirk, an idea popping in her head.

“Oh yeah?” she hummed, raising a brow. She shifted slightly to push the sheet off her and change position.

Peter’s pupils blew wider ever so slightly when she eased herself on top of him, arms crossed over his chest, chin resting on her hands. Her face was so close to his, it was too tempting not to kiss her, but she held him down, pressing a palm against his collarbone as she slowly sat up straight, straddling him.

“I’m adorable?”

Peter gulped down, mesmerized. Luckily for him, his body knew what to do when his mind went blank, and his hands found their place on (Y/N)’s thighs, digging his fingers into the tender flesh, soft under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. He tried to sit up to kiss her now, but she still held him down.

Of course, he could have sat up if he wanted, but he wasn’t going to use his super strength on (Y/N), and in the bedroom at that! He felt quite happy being held down like he was, pinned against the mattress by his adorable, beautiful, hot girlfriend.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” she teased him, leaning down to let her breasts brush against his rising chest.

She was so close now, so, so close he could feel her breath fanning his skin. He couldn’t resist anymore.

(Y/N) gasped and laughed when Peter wrapped one arm around her and flipped them over, hovering over her, one hand still holding her thigh up. He kissed her deeply, letting their mouths find their own rhythm and dance together.

He didn’t particularly want to, but he had to break away at some point, if only to catch their breath.

“You are so beautiful, (Y/N),” he told her, meeting her glossy eyes. “And I don’t deserve you, but I’m so glad you like me back,” he laughed, hiding his embarrassment behind humor.

(Y/N) could see the truth shine through though, and she toned down the flirting a little bit to answer.

“You’re a beautiful person, Peter,” she assured him, cradling his face. “You’re kind, funny, handsome, selfless – and most importantly you’re mine. And I’m so lucky to have you.”

The mood had shifted entirely. They untangled their limbs and Peter let her sit up on the bed, both of them basking in the setting sun, holding onto each other. Peter stared at their joined hands and interlaced their fingers, creases of worry etched on his forehead.

“You never…” he trailed off, not sure what to say or how to say it.

It had always been a touchy subject for him; some parasite thought that lingered in the back of his mind but that he refused to address. He had gotten away with it for a long time too – five years! But now, he couldn’t post-pone it anymore. (Y/N)’s own life was too intertwined with his for him to ignore the elephant in the room.

He had been selfish for too long already. No matter what (Y/N) thought of him, he wasn’t nearly as selfless as he appeared to be. If he really was, he wouldn’t have dragged his beautiful (Y/N) into his mess of a life in the first place.

She placed a finger under his chin to make him look at her, a little smile turning up the outer corners of her lips.

“What is it, Peter? I can see something’s been bothering you since you came home.” She leaned against his shoulder, placing a quick kiss there. “After what happened this past month, I can hear anything.”

“Do you ever… wish things were different?” Peter asked her, unsure.

She didn’t expect that question. In fact, she didn’t expect a question at all. Whatever was on Peter’s mind, she thought it had been something entirely different. What did this even mean? He couldn’t seriously think what she thought he did.

“I know it’s hard for you sometimes, and I kills me that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t stop being Spider-Man,” Peter continued before (Y/N) could say anything – most likely out of sheer nervousness.

“Of course you can't. You are Spider-Man, you can't stop being who you are, and I would never ask you to!” she cut him off. (Y/N) fumbled around to find his shirt so she wasn’t just sitting there, butt naked, while they were having a serious conversation. “Peter, what is this-“

“Listen,” he cut her off too. “Please, just listen to me. I see that my double life impacts your life too, not just mine. And I don’t want you to feel… to feel like you have to stay with me. I don’t want to be the reason why you’re always worried or – God help me – unhappy.”

“Where is this coming from?” (Y/N) asked, no longer smiling now.

“I love you more than anything, (Y/N), and I want you to be happy,” Peter told her. He was so unequivocally, painfully honest. (Y/N) wanted to shake him by the shoulders until he stopped his nonsense. “Even if it means without me.”

“If this is a break-up speech-“

“No!” he almost shouted. “It’s the opposite, really. It’s my ‘I wanna be with you but not at the expense of your happiness’ speech.”

“I wanna be with you too.” What could she possibly say that would make him believe her? “You think what happened made me question whether or not I want to spend my life with you?”

That was it. She knew she had guessed right when she saw the way Peter flinched and looked away, sighing.

“It was so awful, Peter. You gave me the fright of my life! I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t wake up. I totally spiraled; ask May. I don’t want to be separated from you again, do you understand what I’m saying? I had never been so scared in my entire life. Not when the chitori attacked, not when Thanos attacked, I simply never felt the kind of fear that the thought of losing you instilled in my heart. I don't want to feel like this ever again. I can never be happy without you, so don’t ever talk to me again about leaving! I forbid you, do you hear me?” She was now full-on forcing him to look at her, holding his face between her hands, her eyes plunged in his.

“I hear you,” Peter said softly, an expression of ease suddenly relaxing his features.

Maybe she had told him exactly what he needed to hear after all. She knew Peter was like that, insecure in his own, quiet way, despite being a superhero who saved countless lives.

“I love you so much,” (Y/N) continued, placing a feather-light kiss on Peter’s lips, making him smile at the affectionate gesture. “You’re everything I could ever hope for, Peter. I won’t let you forget that.”

(Y/N) had wanted to give Peter a chance to propose for real, and while a week wasn't much time, she was changed since his injury and her patience had run out. The sense of urgency brewing in the pit of her stomach prompted her to take action.

Without a word, she pinched his chin, kissed him once more, then stood up, throwing Peter his sweatpants, silently asking him to put them on and follow her. She went into the kitchen, Peter on her heels, and opened one of the lower cabinets that was usually empty, taking out a box that she set on the table in front of Peter.

Peter hesitated.

“What is it?” He glanced at her.

“Maybe the concept of a box is flying over your head, but you’re meant to open it to find out,” (Y/N) replied, making Peter narrow his eyes at her for being so sarcastic when they were having a moment.

She shot him an innocent smile and took a few steps closer, lightly tapping the lid of the box.

“I asked Pepper if she could send a new one in one of my moments of clarity during your coma,” she said when Peter opened the mystery box, finding a brand-new suit inside, neatly folded like only (Y/N) knew how to. Heaven knows she had tried to teach him, but he was a poor student.

Peter took it out to look at it, feeling the material. He could tell it was a little different, it was like a second skin to him.

“I don’t have a ring, so it’ll have to do. It’s symbolic enough I suppose,” (Y/N) said, mouth dry but holding onto her last shred of courage to keep going.

No wonder Peter had postponed proposing to her, it was nerve wrecking.

“Men don't wear engagement rings,” he laughed before even processing her own words. It took him a second to understand, and (Y/N) witnessed the very moment he realized what she had said. “You- what?” he asked, staring at her with wide eyes. “You don’t ha-“

“Then go get mine, you dork,” (Y/N) simply answered, pushing a wild lock out of his eyes and sending him a radiant smile.

“You knew about it?”

Peter cursed himself for asking such an idiotic question when it wasn't the point at all. Then again, May had told him she knew he wanted to propose but he had thought he ring was well hidden.

“Found it in my treasure chest but I didn't open it.”

He sighed in relief as if it changed anything, and it made her smile even more. Her hand lingered on his face, just gently playing with his untamable hair, revelling in the slight blush that crept on his cheeks and the gleam of joy shimmering in his eyes.

“Marry me, Peter.”

The hardest thing she had ever had to say out loud, yet the most honest. They didn’t have to wait until he nearly died to take that step. Peter didn’t need to wait for the perfect moment to pop the question, he could have asked her over breakfast and her answer would have been the same as if he had asked her on top of the Eiffel Tower.

“You’re not- You- (Y/N)…” Peter stammered out, blushing like crazy and completely losing his ability to speak English.

With a beaming smile, (Y/N) closed the distance between them to kiss a very startled Peter. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights and she couldn’t even blame him! He most definitely did not expect her to pull the rug from under him like that – but she did.

“Marry me,” she repeated, her lips still grazing his, forehead against forehead. “Peter Parker, marry me.”

Forgetting about the box and the suit and everything else, Peter picked her up from the ground and pinned her on the fridge a few steps behind her, still not believing what was happening to him. He vaguely heard a few magnets fall and hit the wooden floor.

“You knew,” he said in between kisses, now lying on top of a giggling (Y/N). “You knew I wanted to propose…” he told her with a scolding look.

“Well, you were taking too long.” She shrugged. “One of us had to do it.”

It was impossible to be so happy! He was going to burst any minute now. His smile was so big it hurt but he didn’t even care.

“So, what do you say? Fancy spending the rest of your days with me?” (Y/N) pushed him, raising her nose just enough to eskimo kiss him.

“Let me get your ring,” Peter continued, still not answering. She was growing anxious!

Peter let her go more abruptly than planned, too caught up in the moment to think straight. He ran back to their room and to the shelf to grab the chest. He picked out the velvet box. His hands became clammy even though (Y/N) had done the hardest part already. He hoped she would like it.

He found her sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, smiling at him. She took his breath away – she was beaming, out of this world. He couldn't believe his luck. Peter went to stand before her, the small box sitting in his palm.

“Open it,” he enjoined her when she glanced at him, then the box, then him again.

With trembling hands, (Y/N) did as she was told, and covered her mouth as soon as she saw its content. Tucked between two velvet cushions was a stunning, white gold band with several engravings catching the light. No diamond, nothing too fancy, just the way she liked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you when I had the chance,” Peter finally spoke, finding courage in her adoring eyes. He took out the ring and held (Y/N)'s hand to slip it on her finger. They both had to laugh at how nervous they were, all shaking hands and racing hearts.

“I love you,” she told him again. She didn't know what else to say, she was at a loss. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Peter answered, kissing her. “And I'll marry you.”

.

.

.

TAGLIST: @palindrome-teddy @complete-trash-101 @keeperofhopesanddreams @i-love-whumperflies @golden-guide @marauderette130 @lowkeykatie888 @theparkerindustries

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[foxyotomelady]

It wasn't supposed to be, Chapter III (JuminxOC/Reader)

Author’s notes:

Guys, I'm still doing it. I'm still keeping it as a slow burn.

Let's see how long I can last.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III (You are here) | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII |  Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Chapter XV | Chapter XVI |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Riyu was terribly bored in this large apartment. She had no idea how Jumin could live here alone - it was far too much space for one person and a cat. But Jumin spent most of his time at work anyway.

The only thing she could do here was watching TV and having fun with Elizabeth - even though Jumin did not want her to approach the cat. However, she could not help that the cat clung to her, asked for caresses and followed her step by step - she had to feel lonely here, left alone for so many hours.

Riyu was just sitting on the couch in the living room, with Elizabeth on her lap when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and cursed under her breath. It was Mr. Chairman. Her stomach twisted. At times like this, she was losing faith that she could really manage it longer.

She took a deep breath, picked up the phone and spoke in the sweetest voice she could manage, "Hello, Mr. Han. How are you?"

"Hello, darling. And how are you? My son is giving you some problems?" She refrained from telling the truth, "No, absolutely none. He is very kind to me." "Wonderful, I knew I could count on him. I hope that this time will allow you to get to know each other better and get along. Our dinner did not go very well, but I think that with time Jumin will accept our relationship." No, She thought. He will never accept it. He will always despise me and I'm not surprised at all. "Yes, I think so too!" She said. "How the delegation is going, Mr. Han? Are you very busy?" Mr. Chairman sighed, "Yes, unfortunately. Sorry, darling, I won't be able to call too often." Riyu refrained from squeaking in joy and relief. Instead, she gave her voice a sad and disappointed tone, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wish we could talk, but I understand." "If something bad happens, call my son. He'll definitely help you." "Um... Actually, I don't have his phone number." "No? It is very irresponsible of him that he did not give it to you. I will send it to you in a moment, darling. Sorry, I have to go, have a nice day." "Thank you, the same to you!" Riyu hung up quickly and leaned back on the sofa with a loud sigh. After a moment, she received the promised message with Jumin's phone number. Elizabeth brushed over her hand, demanding caresses again. Riyu scratched her ear, "You don't even know how lucky you are. You have great protection, someone who loves you sincerely... You don't have to run away from anyone. I almost envy you that you're a cat." In order not to go completely crazy and stop talking to the cat, she turned on the television - today she turned it off and on several times, unable to find anything interesting to watch. This time she found something that made her heart jump to her throat. They talked about... about her! Not just about her. About the dinner she spent with Jumin and his father. Shit! The media thought she was Jumin's girlfriend! She snarled angrily and buried her face in her hands. She hoped that this news would not reach Mr. Chairman. For a moment she even wondered whether to call Jumin, but she thought it would be too tactless. Besides, he hated her. He certainly didn't want her to disturb him at work.

"Assistant Kang, contact every online service, every magazine and every TV channel that spreads these funny rumors. Tell them that if they do not take them off or correct their information, I will sue each of them." Jaehee looked at him with wide eyes, "Mr. Han is... This's very much-" "You don't work here to hang around," He interrupted her coldly. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll take care of it immediately," Jaehee was about to leave, but she stopped and looked at him. "Mr. Han, I read the chat room. Is it true that this Riyu girl is... in your apartment?" Jumin nodded, returning to studying the reports and documents to sign, "Yes, at my father's request."

Jaehee said nothing more, just adjusted her glasses and left. However, Jumin knew that she thought exactly the same as he did - this situation would not affect the company's image well. He could do nothing more than just bury himself at work. After a few hours of intense mental effort, when he took a coffee break, his phone vibrated. Jumin raised an eyebrow - the message came from an unknown number. Hello, Jumin. Riyu here. I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just wanted to let you know that your father gave me your number. In case I need to contact you suddenly. If you mind, I will remove this number from my list. Jumin took a big sip of coffee and thought for a long time. He hesitated. Ultimately, however, he decided to write a few sentences in response. Keep my number. I also add yours. You are now in my care, so please contact me if you have any problems. I don't want to disappoint my father. He thought that this would end their brief exchange of messages, but no. In a moment he received another one. Thank you, you're very kind. I hope we can get along. How is Elizabeth the 3rd? He had no idea why he wrote it. He did it faster than he thought. Not much time passed and he received a reply message. She is fine. I know you didn't want me to get close to her, but I can't help it! Just look at this! There was a picture in the message. Elizabeth was lying on the girl's lap, curled up, definitely happy and calm. Jumin couldn't control how his lips lifted in a slight smile. Isn't she a magnificent creature? Definitely! She's beautiful! And her fur is so soft and delicate :) Can I brush her? I don't see a problem. You should find the brush in the cabinet near her bed. Yes, I found it. Have a nice day at work! What... What just happened?

Jumin froze for a moment, his cup of coffee stuck in the air just before his mouth. He was stunned. Why did he even write to her? And let her take care of Elizabeth? He set down his cup and frowned. He had to admit it, she was really good at this game. He didn't think it would ever happen. That one of his father's women would force him to be nice to her. He wondered if he would write to her to leave Elizabeth the 3rd alone, but he thought it would be too inappropriate now. It was difficult for him to focus on work for the next few hours. He was nervous and stressed. He didn't even want to get in the chat room, though his cell phone kept him informed that someone was writing something on the messenger. They must have been fooling around again, not understanding the gravity of the situation. When he returned to the apartment, Riyu was sitting on the sofa in the living room. Not for the first time, he found her in this state - thoughtful, she did not move, stared blankly ahead. Why did this view bother him so much? He cleared his throat and only then did the girl realize his presence. She twitched in her seat, turned off the television, which she didn't seem to watch anyway, and got up from her seat. "Hello, Jumin. How was your day at work?" Jumin looked at her sharply, "Are you really interested in this or are you pretending to please me?" Her face also became more acute, "I'm trying to behave normally, as we will spend some time with each other. Should we still argue and bite each other's heads off? Don't you think that it will be quite tiring for both sides?" "You have a point." Jumin adjusted his tie. "I will order dinner, do you want something specific?" Why did he even ask her that? The girl blinked, apparently surprised no less than him, "Oh, some scrambled eggs are enough." "Scrambled eggs? Wouldn't you like to eat something more... exquisite?" Riyu smiled to herself, "You ask because you really are interested or do you want to please me?" He looked at her for a moment in a misunderstanding, and she burst out laughing. She had a surprisingly pleasant laugh. "I was joking," She explained. "I don't need anything fancy. I'm rather used to ordinary food." "Let me choose something for you, though. I insist. I don't want you to complain to my father that I didn't host you properly." So, Jumin ordered a dish of fresh salmon with boiled vegetables and honey sauce. As they waited in the kitchen for the food to be delivered, again in embarrassing silence, Elizabeth suddenly jumped on Riyu's lap. "You see it yourself!" The girl called with a smile. Elizabeth purred as she began to stroke and scratch her. Jumin watched them both for a moment, "Maybe she did like you for some reason." Riyu had a very delicate and surprisingly nice smile on her face as she looked at the cat on her lap, "Maybe she senses that I like animals. I used to have a dog, but unfortunately, he has already left me..." Jumin's throat tightened. When it came to animals, it was difficult for him to control his emotions, "I'm sorry. It must have been difficult for you." The girl nodded, "He was my only friend. The animals are extraordinary, don't you think? They have clean, sincere hearts. They love unconditionally, they don't want anything in return." Jumin was really positively surprised to hear these words from her mouth. He almost didn't believe Riyu was really saying it. Have he really been wrong about her so far? The doorbell rang. Food was most likely delivered. No, he couldn't be wrong about her. She was just clever and knew what to say to make him doubt his judgment. When dinner was ready on the table, the girl looked at the elegantly decorated dish with delight. It was actually one of the more casual dishes he ate, but she was delighted like a child. How strange. They ate in silence until Elizabeth the 3rd began to mew, sitting on the floor near the table. "No, Elizabeth. This food is not for you," Jumin sighed. "Oh, don't be like that!" The girl said loudly, pouting. "Can't I give her a piece of salmon?" "Okay, but make sure it's not covered in spices and not dipped in the sauce. It could hurt her." Riyu looked at him like at an idiot, "I know that."

"Right, you said you like animals, so I'm guessing you might have some knowledge about them," He corrected himself, then got up from his seat. "Would you like some wine?" The girl was just handing Elizabeth a piece of salmon, which the cat snatched from her hand and fled to eat it somewhere far away from them. Then Riyu nodded, "Maybe a little bit." Jumin took wine and glasses from the top shelf. He poured a little to each one and sat back in its place. Again, they ate and drank for a while in silence, which this time the girl broke, turning the glass in her hand and looking at the wine flowing down the walls, "Jumin, did you see the news?" "The news?" She nodded, "News, media on the internet and the like. Everywhere they screaming that I'm supposedly your girlfriend." "Don't worry about it. I've already made sure to cut those ridiculous rumors. It won't affect your plans for my father." The girl took a long sip of wine, narrowed her eyes, "You really judge me without thinking. But well... I can't blame you for that." For the rest of the dinner, Riyu continued refilling her wine. He didn't stop her. It wasn't his business. Finally, he left her alone in the kitchen and took care of his own matters. He still had some work to do, and after that, when he left the home office to go to the bathroom before bedtime, he was surprised by a certain view... Riyu was dozing on the sofa in the living room. An empty wine bottle stood on the floor next to it. Elizabeth the 3rd lay curled up in the girl's legs. Jumin approached her slowly, leaned over her, "Riyu?" There was no answer. The girl was completely gone. Jumin looked at Elizabeth, "You really like her, don't you? How strange." He found the blanket and covered the sleeping girl with it, then looked at her small and thin figure for a moment. Again these tormenting thoughts caught him... Something was bothering him. He adjusted his tie, massaged his eyelids and went to the shower. He hoped the cold water would let him chase away this anxiety. When he left the bathroom, ready to sleep, he saw that the girl was still lying on the sofa, now curled up like a cat sleeping next to her. He left her like this and went to his bedroom. Finally, already in bed, he decided to look at the messenger.

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

V: Hello, Jumin.

Jumin Han: V, you are here.

V: Yes, I finally found some time.

V: Is it true what everyone is talking about?

Jumin Han: You mean?

V: That girl. Riyu?

Jumin Han: Yes, unfortunately, it's true. She is my father's new prey. And she is currently in my home.

V: It must be very...

Jumin Han: Uncomfortable? Yes.

V: 

V: Actually, I was thinking about something.

V: This may seem strange to you, but please hear me out.

Jumin Han: I'm listening.

V: It's interesting that this girl suddenly appeared. Just when I started thinking about resuming hosting parties.

Jumin Han: You want RFA to host parties again? But what does this girl have to do with it?

V: Well, does Riyu have any occupation? Jumin Han: I have no idea. Probably not. Jumin Han: I still don't understand. V: What would you say about her taking over Rika's duties? Jumin Han: What? V: Since there is nothing she can do there to occupy herself and she will stay in your house for some time, V: I thought she could take care of inviting guests. You could help her if needed. Jumin Han: Let me tell you something, V. Jumin Han: Riyu currently is sleeping on the sofa in the living room. V: 

Jumin Han: She drank so much wine that she just fell asleep there, not caring about what I think of her. Jumin Han: Do you really want such an irresponsible person to host parties? V: I understand what you mean, Jumin. V: But many times, I've seen you in a similar state. V: And that doesn't make you an irresponsible person. Jumin Han: You have a point. Jumin Han: I always appreciated and considered your ideas. Jumin Han: But still, Jumin Han: this one is your stupidest. V: ^^' V: I think it will be quite refreshing for everyone if we start hosting parties again. Jumin Han: I understand, but why her? V: Well, we don't have anyone else to do it. V: And I have a strange feeling that we can't miss this chance. Jumin Han: A strange feeling? You know I don't believe in such things. V: So just try to trust me. Jumin Han: What about the others? V: I wish they'd be here. But I'm guessing they'll read this conversation. V: Please, talk to them about it. And discuss it with Riyu. We can't force her to do it in the end.

V: I feel Rika would want that.

Jumin Han: How could Rika wants that? She didn't even know this girl.

V: I feel that she would like someone to continue her duties. Please, can you trust me?

Jumin Han: Fine, just because you ask for it.

Jumin Han: But I can't guarantee that others will agree.

[janetbrown711]

Are you okay?!’ Webby Louie Lena Webby deals with bullies and lenas plan

“If you really loved her, you would leave her.”

He took a blow to the chest, her glowing red eyes piercing in his memory.

“She doesn’t belong with you.”

A blow to his head.

“She would be happy if you were dead.”

A toss into the stairs.

“You’re absolutely useless.”

A knife headed rushed toward his head and he flinched for the contact when-

Louie’s body jerked awake. He reached out for someone, something but nothing was there. His mind started to panic. He was in an unfamiliar room, a loud and sharp beating pounding both within himself. Everything was fuzzy. Where was he? Where was Webby? What happened to Lena?

He felt arms rub his back and slowly his eyes focused into the shape of Uncle Donald rubbing his back when suddenly a swarm of strangers came in and started touching machines and telling him… Something. He could helm they were talking but he couldn’t hear.

Where was Webby? Where was Lena? Where was he? All he remembered was seeing Lena bleed that awful color and Webby saying something before the ringing in his head broke out and everything has gone black. Where was he?!

“Louie calm down. Its okay, its okay. You’re in a hospital,” Louie could finally hear. He looked at his Uncle and grabbed his arm, sobbing.

“I-I d-dreamed-”

“I know Louie, I know,” Donald hugged his nephew as tightly as he could, and Louie continued to sob and sob. Something about hugging Donald always made him want to just give up all of his charades, to just let go and cry.

“D-Donald… I-it hurt. I-it hurt so… So much,” he choked.

“I know Louie, I know, but its okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, I am here. You are safe,” Louie could feel his protectiveness in his voice. It was so soft and warm. He wanted to find those words and wrap himself in them and remain safe forever. No fear, no hurt. Just warmth.

“They told me what happened,” Donald spoke again. Louie nodded slowly. “Im so sorry Lou. That must’ve been awful,” he stroked his head, still not breaking the close embrace. He bobbed his head up and down as he lost the strength to continue to sob.

“Its okay though. Im here. You’ll be okay,” Donald kissed the top of his head and Louie smiled a little as he slowly let go and lied down in the hospital bed. All of the strangers, which he issued to be doctors, had disappeared. Good. For the first time he examined all of his bruises and and scrapes all over himself.

He had bruises all along both arms and scrapes too. He slowly lifted a hand to feel his neck but Donald slowly swiped his hand down and shook his head, which he took as a sign not to mess with it. In his arm, the usual IV went in. He couldn’t she the damage to his legs as he was tucked into the blankets. His head left heavy and light at the same time. He needed to nap.

Not until he saw Webby. Where was Webby?

“D-Donald where is W-web?” he croaked.

“She’s right outside. I’ll tell her to come in,” Donald stuck his head out the door and said something before returning inside, Webby soon following.

“Louie!” Webby hugged him as tight as she could (which was much tighter than Donald could manage) and Louie examined how scratched up she herself was.

“Webby, are you okay?” he softly asked.

“Wh-what me? I-I should be asking g you that. You’re the one who’s in here,” she broke the embrace.

“She got… To you too,” he noted the ripped sleeve and the dirt all along her sleeves and especially on her back.

“I know, but im okay. Its you who im worried about. Are you okay?,” she put a hand on his cheek and he leaned into it. It felt so warm. Just as warm as Donald’s embrace had been.

“Y-yeah,” was all he could get himself to say.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Donald slipped himself out of the room. Webby chuckled a little.

“He sure is getting better at timing, isn’t he?” she gave him a tired smile and he remarked the heavy bags under her eyes from stress.

“Was i out for long..?” he asked.

“Well… It’s almost been a day, but not quite so that’s a good thing heh,” she ran her fingers through his hair, presumably to style it but she gave up in the matter of seconds. “I’m so sorry this happened Lou. Its all my fault.”

“What- how the heck is it your fault?” Louie genuinely asked.

“I-I mean- I don’t want to sound like- crazy or anything I-I just…” she sighed, “its stupid, I know. I just… Feel like I should’ve seen something in Lena or… I dunno. Im sorry,” she apologized.

“It isn’t you’re fault you’re so lovable,” he squeezed her hand.

“Lovable?” she chuckled tiredly.

“Yeah,” he smiled. A small knock was at the door and Scrooge popped his head in.

“Lass, Lena is awake if you wanted to know,” he said. Webby nodded to herself.

“R-right… I-I think… I’ll stay here though,” Webby said.

“Alright,” Scrooge slipped back into the hallway.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Louie said.

“I know I just… Don’t want to leave you alone or get the wrong message,” she said.

“That you like her more than me?” he raised an eyebrow weakly. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy. He was on a lot of medicine and such.

“Yeah heh….” Webby scratched the back of her neck.

“Webby I’ll be fine,” he smiled, forcing himself to stay awake for just a little while longer.

“A-are you sure? I just want to be sure that I’m here if-… If anything happens,” she sighed and tucked a hair back into place.

“Webby, I’ll be fine. I got Uncle Donald and my brothers to watch out for me. You can see whatever the hell was possessing Lena’s whole thing was. I’ll… I’ll be okay,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked once more.

“Of course. Look, im about to go to sleep so either you leave or I fall asleep. You’re choice,” he yawned and closed his eyes. Webby watched him for a minute, half out of the need to make sure he really was asleep and half to convince herself he was safe. She sighed and headed for Lena’s room.

She knocked softly on the door before entering. Nobody was in the room before her and Lena had a distant look in her eyes as she stared out the window. She was still wearing her choker somehow.

“Hey Lena,” Webby broke her friend’s train of thought.

“Hey,” Lena tried to smirk but it faded into twinges of a frown. Webby sat at the chair by her bed. An awkward silence hung between them, nothing but the beeping of Lena’s heartrate.

“Where is Louie?” Lena spoke quietly.

“Hospital room just down the hall. He’s asleep,” she simply put it.

“Still?” a pause, “I see.”

More silence.

“Lena look,” this time Webby broke the silence, “I’m not mad I just want to understand what the heck happened so… Please. Just… Tell me what the heck was going on.”

“Right, you deserve to know,” Lena sighed with slow nods. Webby sat up in the chair.

“Well… It… It was a month ago I… I realized I… Liked you,” she glanced at her friend but strayed the moment they made eye contact, “I was just… So full of jealousy. I couldn’t stand the thought of you with… Him. It tore me up inside, so… I made a plan to separate you two. I searched in all of my spell books and read of a demon that could "make you into the perfect match for your most desired” and obviously… I took it.“

"At first it was fine. I just started sitting straighter and smiling more at you but every time I was in the room with him the demon’s voice just told me to hurt him. I-I don’t know why but I really felt this burning desire to hurt him everytime I was with him, but often times you were there too, and i cared too much about hurting you to do that.”

“But one day we were alone. I was heading out and he was going to grab a pep and I… Shoved him down the stairs. I didn’t mean to I just… Did. After I left I told him to not try to do that again and it started to tell me things about how I belonged with you and how he would never let me kill him just… Push him out of the way. You would never know, so, like an idiot, I listened. And overtime I listened the more I lost control. The moment I threw you into that tree, I knew it was over. You hated me. So I surrendered to it, and he did what he pleased with me and… Yeah… That’s how we got into this mess.”

Webby was left speechless. It was like all of the 87 languages she knew just slipped her tongue. Everything just felt numb and limp.

“L-le-Lena,” she managed to gather those four letters. The girl in question looked at her.

“I-I… Don’t… Hate you,” she strung a sentence together. Lena looked down.

“I knew you’d say that. Its so… You,” she huffed.

“Well… Its true,” Webby touched Lena’s hand, which she pulled back. “I dot hate you and I don’t blame you for being jealous,” Lena still didn’t respond. “You’re still my best friend, I hope you know that.”

On best friend Lena turned her head. “You want someone who hospitalized your boyfriend to still be your best friend? God Webby, are you really that stupid?”

“Well what else do you want from me?” Webby asked.

“I dunno! Maybe a punishment? A slap to the face? A-an ‘I hate you’ maybe?! I dint know! Just something! Anything! Just not this!” tears had flooded to her eyes as she exclaimed.

“L-Lena I… I don’t hate you. I-I don’t blame you. You were jealous and stuff yeah, and… You did hurt Louie a lot and that isn’t okay… But I know that you’re already hurting so… I can’t really blame you for that. Louie on the other hand… I don’t speak for him, but I do speak for you so… Yeah. I don’t blame you,” she told her. Lena tucked her knees to her chest and sighed.

“Y-yeah…” her tone was not of that of agreement or discontent. Just a meaningless mumble.

“Lena, I Won’t stop thinking of you as a friend so know that you haven’t truly lost me, okay?” she lightly touched her shoulder and Lena didn’t brush it away. There was more silence, before Lena spoke.

“Okay,” she agreed to it, though Webby knew it wasnt completely sincere, but that comes with time. It always does. She’ll be alright.

“Webs, I think I’m gonna catch some sleep,” Lena said.

“Right, that’s fair,” Webby nodded, “I can leave if you want me to,” she stood.

“Y-yeah thanks,” Lena closed her eyes. Webby sighed as she left the room, glancing back at her one more time before closing the door.

[thisisawesomeness1825]

oops, i (fake) love you, ch. 04

iv. Percy

Percy loves swim practice. If he's given the chance, he'll just probably swim all day, lounging in the water and not at all worrying about school work. It's probably the best sport created if he has anything to say about it. So he's not at all bothered that he gets tasked to clean up the pool after swim practice, in exchange for an extra hour or so of pool time.

Practice usually ends in two hours after the official school dismissal, and he usually stays for an hour taking extra laps or basically just lounging in. Which is why he's used to the silence that comes after taking a shower—most students are out of the school by now. Only nerds like Annabeth Chase would want to spend the free time in school.

However, when Percy comes out of the shower room freshly showered and dressed, a cry and splashing noises greet his ears. His eyes immediately land on the pool, where there is a person flailing their arms around. Drowning, he thinks. Someone's drowning.

"Help!" the person cries.

Like a switch flipped open, Percy quickly runs to the pool and sheds his Goode High swim team hoodie. He dives in and swims as fast as he can, and holds the person's body with his right arm. His legs propel harder and faster, with only one arm to support his strokes.

Upon reaching the pool corner, he hauls the body to the side. He arranges the person's—who is apparently a girl—hair away from her face so she can cough out the water in her lungs. And lo and behold, Annabeth's pale face greets him once he has dragged the wet blonde strands away.

He's momentarily shocked; staring at the face of the girl who used to be his best friend. Then an internal Percy kicks his butt awake, and before he knows it, his hands press against her chest and pumps. Fast but firm, he repeats in his mind. Steady and calm.

Once, twice— and water sprouts out of her mouth. Annabeth jolts awake and coughs incessantly to get rid of the water in her lungs. She bends over and thumps at her chest, where some of the pool water gets spit out. Her red-rimmed gaze lands on him.

"Percy—"

And suddenly, something inside him snaps.

"What are you thinking, Annabeth? Why would you go to the pool when you don't know how to swim? Don't you know a lot of people die because of drowning? Are you risking your—"

Without warning, Annabeth's arms reach out to him and tackle him in a hug. He stumbles back a little in surprise, but he quickly winds his arms around her once he realizes it isn't a fluke. Annabeth is really hugging him.

"Thank you," she whispers earnestly.

He tentatively pats her on the back. "Hey, you're alright. Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Okay."

Percy removes his arms around her and crosses it on his chest. His eyes stare at her, unblinkingly. "Now, tell me the reason why you would do such a reckless thing?"

Her gaze drops down and avoids his own. "Don't mind it. It was stupid."

"It's obviously something when you risked your life for that reason."

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"Percy."

"Annabeth."

She huffs and glares at him with those stormy grey eyes. He wonders why others felt the need to shy away from her gaze when he finds it nothing but marvelous. She looks like a queen staring down at her subjects; regal but dangerous.

"Fine," she mutters. "Someone said that Drew threw it into the pool."

"Threw what?"

"The ring that she stole from me." Annabeth hugs her knees to her chest. "It was my mother's wedding ring."

"Oh," he says for lack of a better word. He doesn't bother asking why she has her mother's ring. He might've saved her but they are still far from close friends like they used to before. "So that's why you went into the pool?"

"Yeah." Annabeth groans and puts her head in her hands. "Saying it aloud makes it even more stupid."

"Not really. I probably would've done the same," Percy says with a smile. "Did you get it then?"

She shakes her head. "Just as I was going to back out, my foot slipped from the ladder and I tumbled into the water. Next thing I know, my lungs are being filled with water. And it burns—like a torch is placed on my chest."

"And then I came," he continues. "I mean like, I came into the pool—no, that's as bad. I mean I went out and saw you in the pool." He covers his face with his hands. "God, this is embarrassing. I hope you don't think I'm making sex jokes or something."

Annabeth, for the life of her, just chuckles while he wallows in his embarrassment. "Don't worry. Nobody really thinks that it was an innuendo. It was just you and your guttered mind."

And she even has the gall to smile! Percy thinks.

"And then you wonder why you can't have Rachel to notice you," she says through a grin.

He fixes her a feigned glare. "Careful, or I might just throw you again into the pool."

She just smiles and shrugs. It makes him want to grab her shoulders and shake her silly.

Brushing that crazy thought aside (Percy wonders why he even thought of that), he stands before the pool and scans it curiously. "Someone said that Drew threw it into the pool?"

"Yes." Annabeth peers at him warily. "What are you planning to do?"

"So here's the thing. I'm going to look for it, and you're not going into the pool no matter how long I stay down, okay?" he says to her as he picks a towel from his bag. He throws it at her. "Take that and dry yourself."

She holds the towel tightly in her hands. "Will you be okay?"

He flashes her a big grin. "You're talking to the swim team captain, Chase."

"Hey—!"

Percy doesn't hear the rest of her sentence because he already dove into the water. Momentarily, he lets himself lose in the feeling. The water moves with him, and he feels like he's one with the water. Then, he opens his eyes and swims further until his palm reaches the tiles at the bottom.

He looks around him, trying to find a glint of light. Finding none, he swims again and looks around. A brief flash of gold catches his eyes. Gotcha, he thinks. He moves towards it, takes it into his palm, and breaks into the surface of the water.

Once he gets a clear view of his surroundings, he spots Annabeth looking at him. Throwing her a smirk, he says, "You owe me one, Chase."

"Did you find it?"

He hoists himself out of the water and walks towards her. "What do you think? Hand me over that towel, and I'll give it to you."

She eagerly throws the towel in his face, and he hands over her mother's ring. A genuine smile flits into her face. Percy finds himself smiling back.

"Thank you," she says again.

"You're welcome," he responds.

Silence fills the air for a moment. Strangely enough, he doesn't find it uncomfortable. Maybe it's because they've already been in this place before. He feels calm in her presence, like a body reuniting with an old soul.

He rummages through his bag and finds an extra shirt. He nods at her. "You might want to change out of your clothes. They're still wet and you might get sick. Here's a smaller shirt, if you want to change."

He picks up his hoodie and throws it at her. "Take this too. In case you're still cold."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asks.

"I'm not being nice. I just don't want you on my conscience if you die of pneumonia," Percy says with a shrug.

Annabeth frowns but takes the shirt and hoodie from him anyways. "I can't die of pneumonia that fast. Besides, there are medications."

"Whatever. Just change."

"What about you? Won't you be cold?"

"I'm used to this weather," he says. He gestures at her, "You, on the other hand, are not, California girl."

She rolls her eyes at him. "I think you're forgetting the fact that I used to live in New York."

"I don't. But that was a long time ago."

She doesn't say anything for a few beats. Percy wonders if he offended her in some way until she speaks again. "Percy, about owing you—"

He chuckles and leans back on his arms. "No. Don't mind that. I was just joking."

"But I want to repay you."

"Seriously, it's nothing. I'm glad I helped you. That's all."

"Okay. Well, this time, think that I just want to help you," Annabeth says.

"Annabeth. Really, it's no problem—"

"Earlier, about asking me to help you win a girl, well, I'll help you now."

He sputters. Finally, Percy thinks. I can finally have a chance. But then he quickly shuts down the thought. It would be unfair for him to get what he wants just because he helped Annabeth out. Every normal human being would have done the same. It shouldn't be fair to take advantage of this. "No, that would be unfair. I just did what any person would do," he says.

"Then, what if I have a condition?" she asks. "If I say I want to help you how to charm a girl in return for teaching me how to swim, would that make it fair?"

"I guess so."

"Then that's it! I'll help you to become more desirable to Rachel and any girls for that matter, and you'll help me learn how to swim. Agree?"

Percy shrugs. He wants to appear indifferent but internally, he's jumping up and down in excitement. It's like an early birthday present. Who's to say that maybe, by the time his birthday comes, he and Rachel can now go celebrate it as a couple? "Fine," he says casually.

"Deal. Let's shake it?" Annabeth asks as she extends a hand to him.

Rather than shaking her hand, he hooks his pinkie with hers and shakes it. "Pinkie swear is always better," he answers with a grin.

Once again, Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Let's make our plan tomorrow."

"Sure." Percy nudges her to the shower room. "Go change already. If you die because you're stalling, that won't be my fault anymore."

"Well, then stop talking to me." She says as she walks towards the shower room.

"Chase?"

"I thought I told you to stop talking."

"I just need to ask one thing."

"Yes?"

"How will we plan tomorrow? Are we going to meet in class tomorrow or—?"

"You'll see."

"Fine," Percy mutters under his breath. "Annabeth?"

"What now?"

"Take care of that hoodie. That's my favorite."

He doesn't hear any more replies, so he picks up his bag and leaves. Before he knows it, a grin makes its way onto his face.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

Percy didn't know what he was expecting, but certainly, it isn't Annabeth waiting for him outside the doors of the school.

He has just come out of the class and is walking together with his friends when he spots her standing near the stairs. She's wearing his swim team hoodie, which now looks obviously too big for her, judging by the bunching of the sleeves. In her arms are a few folders, but she carries it almost effortlessly. Looking at her now, Annabeth almost resembles an adorable little kid. Which Percy doubts are something she wants to be associated with.

When he and his friends were now outside of the doors, Annabeth's gaze immediately lands on him. She walks over and greets him, "Percy!" Quite gleefully he might add. Which is a stark contrast to the silent treatment he received from her earlier in their mythology class. He has almost thought that she gave up on their deal when she hadn't made a move to acknowledge his presence.

This now, however, startles the heck out of his friends. Leo juts his side quite painfully. "When did you become friends with her? I need the details," he whispers frantically. Jason's gaze flits back and forth at them, while Grover's looks at him, wide-eyed. Even Piper looks a bit shocked. The only one who seems to remain in her senses is Rachel. She sends a small smile and a wave at Annabeth.

Ah, right. Percy remembers now. They're teammates in track.

"Hey. We're going to your house today, remember?" Annabeth says to him. She just smiles at the rest of his friends, who still look a little dumbstruck.

"We are?" he asks abruptly, not aware of the arrangement. Annabeth throws him a sharp look, which immediately prompts him to correct what he said. "Uh, yes we are. I just forgot."

He turns back to his friends and scratches the back of his neck, shyly. "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow, Perce."

Then Annabeth snatches his hand with hers and holds it. The suddenness of the action causes him to stiffen visibly. "What are you doing?" he whispers frantically at her.

She turns her head to look at him. "Holding your hand."

This action seems to make them appear closer to each other, add to the fact that Annabeth is holding his hand.

Leo calls out to him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Mortified, Percy looks back at Annabeth. "They're gonna think we're dating."

"That's the plan."

"I thought we're just going—"

"What did you expect? A learning material or something?" She looks him up and down. "You're near hopeless. What you need is a hands-on tutor."

Red tints his cheeks. "Hands-on? Are you saying we're going to—"

Her gaze flits back to his face, which is now a poor impersonation of a tomato. Understanding fills her eyes, then she shoves him, hard. "God! Get your mind out of the gutter. That wasn't what I meant."

"Okay," he breathes in relief. "Then what did you mean?"

Annabeth shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Obviously, you can't be Prince Charming in just one lesson. You will need practice."

"And?"

"And you'll have to practice through me. You can only do that when everyone thinks we're dating, so it won't be suspicious."

"So, we'll have to fake date?" Percy asks as he gestures between the two of them.

"Exactly." She leads to him to her car. "Get in. We still have to go to your house."

"Wait. You're serious about that?"

"Did you think I was bluffing? How else are we going to plan for it?" Annabeth places her seatbelt in and reverses the car. "Do you still live in the same place?"

"Yep." He remains quiet for a moment, admiring the view of the passing houses. Then he turns back to her with mirth in his eyes. "Is that why you wore my hoodie today? So, they'll assume we're dating?"

Her gaze remains fixed on the road. "No. I was cold."

"Really, eh?" he teases.

"Shut up."

"I think that's why you wore the hoodie."

"If you don't shut your mouth this instant, I'm going to throw your ugly butt off this car."

Percy does shut up. Knowing Annabeth, she doesn't give threats without meaning them. She once kicked a boy's balls in their grade after said boy did not get the hint of staying away from her. He knew then that Annabeth is a woman of her word, and he better believe her.

But even that is not enough to stop the smile spreading on his face, ear to ear.

Finally! We have reached the beginning of their fake dating journey.

Classes are back and I have a hard time inserting writing time in my schedule. Add to the fact that I'm doing my final thesis for undergrad studies (wooo yay!). Anyway, this was supposed to be longer (tbh, this whole chapter completed only 3 events out of the 7 I planned that's supposed to happen), but I decided to cut it here so it'll not be too overwhelming.

Also, if you can, please drop a review. I love reading your feedback! Every single one of them makes my heart melt and puts a smile on my face every time.

See you next time and stay tuned (hopefully)!

[whysthatsofuckingfunnydickwad]

( or on a more angsty note, doctor!richie having to face eddie who's just been rushed to the ER after a car accident or a severe asthma attack or something?? )

Twice The Man That I’ll Ever Be

They had returned to Derry. They had returned to Derry and Richie Tozier couldn’t remember why.For what?Clipboard in hand and his confusion pressing his mind Richie shook his head and his dark hair, streaked with thin lines of silver, fell around his aging face. He reached into his pocket and looked down at his phone to see a message from Stan and a message from Ben.

Stan The Man8:47Sharing a cab with Eddie. He’ll be home before 9.

Hunky Haystack8:26Auntie Bev, Maggie, and Francis passed out watching Moana - are the girls okay to spend the night?

Dr. Trashmouth 9:01Kiss all three of my girls goodnight for me.

Smiling, Richie put his phone back into the pocket of his white jacket and continued with his rounds. The only sounds coming from heart monitors and the soft television show that Mrs. Torrence always fell asleep to.Richie just couldn’t wait to be home, feeling as though he hadn’t really been home in weeks.“Dr. Tozier,” a young resident practically screamed while running into the ward off of the elevator. Her eyes were wide and her hands and purple scrubs were covered in blood. When Richie turned to look at her, he didn’t see a professional, he saw a scared young woman with eyes filled with remorse. “It’s your husband.”

“The cab driver is fine, he’s getting checked over now,” a nurse in pink scrubs said. Richie silently thanked her for her choice to pretend that this was a normal emergency, pretending she didn’t know Richie’s chest was aching and his breath was coming in erratic puffs. Pretending that the man missing his arm wasn’t the father of Richie’s children, pretending the man unconscious on the table, bleeding from a gash on his forehead and the cuts on his arms wasn’t Richie’s best friend. “Patient one,” she started, and Richie didn’t miss how she didn’t use his name, “has a severed right arm from just above the elbow and is suffering from respiratory distress.”Eddie left his inhaler in Derry. They had returned to Derry. They had returned to Derry and this is battery acid you slime. Why had they returned to Derry?“Are you with us, Dr. Tozier?” Taking a deep breath, Richie nodded and gave a weak confirmation. “Okay, patient two, Stanley Uris, has fainted from shock and has a possible concussion. They’re sending him for a scan now. His arms have suffered several deep lacerations as well.”Richie marched over to Eddie’s bedside and began making assessments. An air mask had been placed over Eddie’s mouth and his brown eyes were wild with fear and pain. His face was red with strain and blood and his breath was coming in short, uneven wheezes that sputtered in his chest. “I-I need salbutamol,” Richie stuttered in an almost whisper before raising his voice, “I need salbutamol and a spacer. Once he’s stable I want him on a pump, I want the pump before the IV, and, Jesus Christ, we need to stop the-” When Richie looked down at Eddie’s arm, burn marks surrounded the closed wound. “-bleeding." Richie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his narrow nose and looked up at the nurse. It’s cauterized.” Richie's gaze shifted to Eddie’s eyes and suddenly felt salt water flow down his pale cheeks. They returned to Derry. They returned to Derry and you know I…I…“We need to sedate him, Dr. T,” the nurse from before said gently. She was holding a large needle in her hand and had Eddie’s remaining arm pinned down. Richie nodded and stroked Eddie’s face, whispering adoring words to his husband before his eyes shut and he was unconscious.Looking up at the room around him, Richie felt as if the world was moving in slow motion; nurses looked dazed as they moved, voices sounded distant and soft. They returned to Derry and Beverly help me stop the bleeding.Before he knew it, Richie had a new inhaler in his hand for Eddie and his breathing was rendered stable.Richie stroked the pale skin of Eddie’s face, as soft and beautiful as ever, while they waited for someone to come and take the next steps in fixing Eddie up.Bev, give me your lighter. Ben hand me your belt.Richie, I don’t-NOW, BEVERLY.“The fire from the crash seems to have cauterized the wound,” the doctor said, nodding upon inspection. “Your husband is one lucky man.”Richie continued to stare down at Eddie, brows furrowed and tears of frustration in his eyes. Eddie has already been hooked up to a pump, a tube in his mouth and taped to his face. “Where is the arm?”The doctor stared at Richie for a moment, her eyes turned glassy, and then she walked away.As Eddie no longer needed a pulmonary specialist in the room, Richie was told this his husband would be in good hands from here on out.Richie looked in the room and watched as his coworkers removed the burnt flesh from Eddie’s arm and Richie, who has spent years of his life growing accustomed to all the sights and smells an emergency room could bring, upchucked his dinner into the nearest trash can for the first time in twenty years. “Richie,” one of his coworkers said, “Take a break, I know telling you to go home is useless, but take a break.” Tears cascading down Richie’s face, glasses pushed and tangled into his curly locks, with the taste of bile in his mouth the aging man nodded and started walking towards the stairs.

Kill IT!Bill! I’m coming for ya buddy.Richie? Richie?!This is battery acid you slime.Oh my god! Eddie!Ed’s? Ed’s!Richie.. you know I..

When Bill Denbrough and Mike Hanlon found Richie he was hunched over on his knees outside of his car, his hands were covering his ears and he was yelling through his sobs. Running up to the crumpled man, Bill noticed a cigarette that had fallen beside Richie, it was still burning and was almost to the filter.Mike bent down and tried to pry Richie’s hands from his ears, “Rich.”“NO! No, Mike,” Richie said reaching for Mike and gripping his shirt collar with white knuckles. “Mike, we killed it, it’s gone! IT’S GONE, MIKE! IT has to be gone!”Richie was hyperventilating and Mike brushed his hands through Richie’s scraggly curls and pulled the shorter man to his chest, trying to sooth his crying and to bring Richie down from this panic attack.There weren’t many times, even in the distant past, that Mike or even Bill had seen Richie like this. The people most qualified to handle Richie in this state were up stairs bleeding or missing an arm. “IT’s gone, Mike. Tell me we killed it.”Bill bent down and picked up Richie’s pack of cigarettes and his lighter, bringing a paper stick of tobacco to his lips and lighting it, puffing until the tip was a fiery red. Somehow, his nightmares were making a lot more sense.

When Richie brought Eddie home, it was two weeks later and Maggie and Francis had been spending almost every day and night with Beverly and Ben at the Hanscom house with their son Will and baby Arlene. The group decided that it would be best for the girls to be away from Eddie and Richie while they adjusted to Eddie’s lost arm, practised his physiotherapy, and learned to cope with how different Eddie’s life would be.It took three days for Eddie to say anything at all, and when he did he couldn’t get a sentence out before Richie burst into a blubbering mess on Eddie’s hospital room floor. I don’t regret it.Part of Richie believed that Eddie must’ve still been loopy when he said it, but some deeply buried part of Richie’s mind was telling him that Eddie was fully aware of what he said, that everything that’s happened would always lead back to Derry.The night Eddie was to return home, uncle Bill offered to take the girls for the night to give Eddie and Richie an extra evening to prepare for facing their girls. It was an added bonus that having the company of his nieces would be good for Stan in his recovery, which was significantly less drastic than Eddie’s (a blood transfusion and some OJ can go a long way).

When Eddie and Richie discussed Eddie coming home, Richie never predicted that Eddie would feel uncomfortable. Earlier in the week Mike and Beverly had taken the liberty of putting a two-step stepping stool in most rooms of the Tozier-Kaspbrak house and purchasing as many one-handed gadgets as they could think of. Looking at the pile of stuff the pair had purchased, Eddie’s stomach twisted and he walked towards the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. A strong one. In the time it took Richie to collect his thoughts, Eddie had downed two doubles and was pouring himself a glass of red-wine. “This doesn’t make me weak,” Eddie muttered into his glass, though Richie could tell his words were intended to hold some amount of venom at his family quote-unquote babying him, they held nothing but Eddie’s overflowing fear. “This doesn’t change me.”When Eddie put his glass down to look up at Richie there were tears in his bright brown eyes, a look of defeat on his face.“Of course it doesn’t,” Richie says, his tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth, the same reaction as always to whenever he sees Eddie cry. “This doesn’t change how strong you are. How strong you’ve always been. We were - what, twelve when that Henry Bowers kid broke your arm and you laughed? You laughed, Ed’s. Like a straight up psycho. I was 14 and I couldn’t even watch you have an asthma attack without crying.” Richie had marched over to his husband and took his soft hand between Richie’s calloused ones, bringing the pale and delicate skin to his lips. Resting his forehead against Eddie’s, Richie watched as the shorter man continued to cry softly. “I know we don’t buy into the trope of being manly, but if we did, Ed’s, you’re twice the man that I’ll ever be. Even if you only have half as many arms.”Eddie giggled against a sob and Richie brought a hand up to wipe at his husbands freckled cheeks. “But what about the girls, Rich? We have two girls and I can’t even hold them at the same time anymore,” Eddie’s eyes screwed shut and he buried his face in Richie’s neck. “I won’t be able to hold my babies.”Richie let out a breathy laugh, “Are you kidding, Ed’s? Our girls love you. They adore you. You’re their father and nothing will ever change that. They’re strong kids, Ed’s, give them the opportunity and I don’t doubt that they’d have the combined strength to hang off of you like the monkeys they are.”Eddie pulled his face from Richie’s neck, his skin blotchy and stained with streaks of tears, the shorter man smiled, “You always know what to say, Rich.”Richie laughed and leaned forward to kiss his husband, “I’ve had a good 30 years of practise.”And he’d have a lot more time beyond that, too.