#my live reaction to the spreading crumbling at first was like Gasp then Oh no characters I care about them Oh wow this is crazy

[eggs-love-loki]

Me: I’ll watch one episode of my hero after dinner that’ll be fun :)

Me three episodes later, having gone from crying earlier to just pure distress by the end: Well that was the worst choice ever

[marvelyhp]

Still you | chapter II

Chapter II: The comeback

Synopsis: Y/n decides to help the Avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

Pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

Word count: 5,997

warnings: cussing, some fluff

note: I know I took so long but I had writer's block. then, I got covid and I felt too awful to write. But I'm okay now so this is what I could come up with. Not my greatest stuff. the tag list is open :)

Side note: I would really appreciate hearing from you and your thoughts!

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We managed to lower two floors without raising suspicion or making too much noise. At least, James and I were pretty silent, whispering if needed. But of course, Stark always had to open his damn mouth. He had been talking all the way —pretty loudly too— and he just did it again.

“Where’s the grandpa with the bad luck of having you as a tenant?” The man didn’t know the meaning of whispering. Or maybe he did. He just wanted to make my life more complex than it was. I looked frantically behind me, praying he had not seen me sneaking out. At the sight of no one, a breath of relief exploded out of me. But it didn’t last long, irritation quickly dampening my already poor mood.

“Shut the hell up!” I hissed. My patience with the insufferable man wearing thin.

“Oh, relax. If he sees us, we’ll knock him out and blame you.” He mocked, a chuckle erupting throughout the hall and following the stairlike a draft of wind. My blood started to boil inside my veins and I felt the heat spread from head to toes. I was afraid to be reaching my tipping point already because this was nothing. Two years out of practice left me hypersensitive to his shit. I wondered how long I would be able to stand the insufferable mortal and regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

“He is a good man, Stark. We will not knock him out.” I whispered as I pressed myself against the wall. Twisting my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I sneaked a glance at the stairs and the visible space from the top. “Watch your step here. His room is right underneath the stairs. We don’t want to wake him up.

I walked forward, pressing my foot in the first step, praying the creak of the old wood would keep quiet today as it did some nights. At least that’s what I hoped but it wasn’t what happened. A groan broke the silence in the room and I knew that if he was awake, he definitely heard it. I waited a couple of seconds, alert to any noise. When nothing came, I advanced four more steps. I focused on the one shadow dancing in the wall and relief swept through me. He wasn’t awake.

I turned, thinking the guys were still up. However, I let out a gasp when Bucky’s face came into view, mere inches away from mine. Thanks to the startle, the foot I had dangerously close to the edge slipped.

My heart stopped as I thought about the fall and the inevitable bone-crushing pain that would come after it. The stairs were pretty high and even though they were wood, it was quite sharp. Splinters roamed everywhere. I waited for the pain and the strenuous sound. It was phenomenal, the first time I saw the team in two years and I would meet them in a body bag with a broken neck.

However, it never came.

When I opened my eyes, blue electric eyes stared back at me. Our faces were inches away from each other. A hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him to hold me from falling. I was hyper-aware of our breaths clashing against each other, making the most sinful of sounds. Our lips were separated by a small space, too close for my brain to catch up quickly. I noticed how his lips roamed my face, stopping at my lips slightly parted by the surprise. His eyes held a fervent fire and my breath quickened once I felt the inevitable rush of warmth roaring my body.

Coughing slightly, I took a step backward, stepping out of his grasp. I forgot all about the landlord as I scolded myself. The man looked at me and there I was getting flushed like a raging hormonal teenager. I looked at everything but Bucky’s face, why I knew still had his eyes on me except now his jaw was firmly set. I wanted to ask him what was going on inside his head but a hovering shadow at the top of the stairs captured my attention.

“What are you still doing up there?'' The man looked utterly confused standing at the top of the stairs surrounded by darkness. I wondered if it had to do with what he just witnessed.

“You care about that grandpa, don’t you?” His expression was one of disbelief. His body wasn’t moving as if in shock or trying to process the information he thought was correct. And it was, but he didn’t have to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, unaffected.

“Of course you do. You care about the landlord.”

I whirled around as fast as I could with the incident earlier present in my head as a gruff voice filled the room. A short, stubby old man stood at the foot of the stair dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts. The ends of his hair stood up as if held by a string and maneuvered by a child. His narrowed black eyes stared back at us. His lips pressed in a thin line.

“Of course, she does, kid. Why shouldn't she?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. I followed the movement of the milk dancing in the glass on his right hand. I felt proud of the English I had taught him and how-- as much as I didn't want this to happen-- useful it would be. I looked back at Stark to find him gaping like a fish. Little croaks came from his throat but no coherent words came from him. It was the first time I had seen Stark speechless. “I’m an incredible landlord if I say so myself.”

He was.

I cursed inwardly. There were things I didn't want everyone to know. To a certain extent, I wasn’t ready for the team, for Stark, to find out that I wasn’t the monster he expected me to be. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me differently. Andrei had the power to change our whole dynamic.

It wasn’t that Andrei and I shared anything about life. Or at least I didn’t. Andrei liked to talk, to share his life with me, and try to make me talk. He said I was too reserved. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

It had been a warm evening. I could see the sun filtering through the windows. Shining onto the top of the show top and illuminating the cottage-like bakery. The dough in my hands stuck to my skin, lumps of a uniformed cream mass suffocating the fingers. The powdered white dust sat beside me and I felt irritated. I hadn’t thought about pouring it on the mixture before I touched it. ‘I was out of my element here’ I thought as I reached for the flour.

Andrei’s baker had abruptly called five minutes before work notifying him he couldn’t work his shift. His grandmother had fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip, hence his lack of concern for Andrei. He was the only living relative she had so it fell upon him to look after her. One missed shift would turn into dozens. The bakery was small and hidden in a remote part of Romania. The clientèle was not much besides those living in the small town from years ago, or even since they were born.

Everyone in town knew each other. When I arrived I had my doubts about staying in this place because of that same reason. I would be the talk for weeks and I couldn’t risk so many people questioning my presence. Except, I was lucky.

One evening, I sat in a small and dark corner of a bar near the outskirts of the town where it was most probable to see an outsider. Two men sat a couple of feet away from me, talking fairly loudly. Out of boredom and desire to know the people I might have been seeing every day, I heard and studied their moments. Taking notes about their behaviors and storing them far into the file I had on humanity. Their voices were cheery as they ate pastries that I was sure to not be from the small bar.

“This is so good! I can’t believe I haven't tasted a pastry this good since I left,” he moaned loudly in reaction to the puff on his hand. The crumbly dessert spilling powdered sugar all over his dark gray pants. “Andrei hasn’t lost his touch.”

“Who is this Andrei you talk so highly of?” The older male asked the seemingly young partner. The man wore an expensive suit, not one that could be found here and from what I gathered from their conversation, he had not grown up here. But his friend did. What he said next grabbed my attention the most.

“His bakery is pretty hidden in the town. Someone that didn’t know the road would not find him. He used to be a criminal, on the run and all that. But since he got out of prison he became a baker. the man sure has a gift. I don’t even know why he went to jail, because the man is a sweetheart. I think he was just dealt a bad hand.” The man kept munching on his pastry as he talked. The vowels all merging to create a soundless blob. I swore he said more but that was all I could understand and by the face of his friend, he understood less.

“It’s such a small town. Why was it never known?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that he was born here but left, something to do with his family. He came back years later, on the run from some people. People we assumed to be the police. Of course, the police followed his trail and eventually found him here. Two years later. He hid pretty well if, you asked me. He treats people with respect but he never talks about himself. He has always been reserved when it comes to his life, only telling small details that lead to nothing. You know, not enough to form a life picture…”

Before he finished talking, I was out of my seat, walking towards the pair. I plastered an innocent look on my face, one I had studied and perfected many times since coming to earth. I relaxed my posture, knowing I had been tense and tucked since I entered this town. I still can’t believe I was social before. Nobody would believe that if I told them now.

“Hey, those pastries look marvelous!” I said in a cheery voice when I reached the pair. Both of their heads whipped towards my direction, curiosity written in their faces. I could hear the questions in their head about me and where I came from and what I looked for in town. Typical gossiping mortals. I wanted to cut the tie between our heads, feeling bad about corrupting the men’s thoughts. But I couldn’t, not until I had what I wanted. “Do you know where could I find them?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, sweet thing?” Sweet thing, that’s funny. If he had been into the American news he would not say that.

“Calypso. Do you know where the place is? Can you explain it to me?” I said, trying to hide the hurry in my voice. His thoughts were front seat in my mind, not wanting to miss a thing.

“So eager.” He chuckled. Instead of the route, I was expecting, he thought about my naked form and countless sexual images began replaying. I resisted the urge to impale his backside, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. I played his game. I battered my eyelashes and looked at him from hooded eyes. I bit my lip gently and walked closer. Sneaking a glance at his friend, I noticed he was no longer looking at us. He seemed uncomfortable and had turned to his coffee and pastries. I wish I had a coffee to turn to.

“Maybe you could take me there. If you remember the way, of course.” He smirked and grabbed the jacket slung over the wooden chair he sat on. His friend looked at us, startled as if he wasn’t expecting my response. However, the joy of his friend would be short-lived. Images of the way to the small bakery filled my head and I smirked. Before he could take my hand to guide me to his car I asked for the restroom.

As soon as I came in, my eyes searched for some window I could use to leave unnoticed. And I found it in the corner of the bathroom beside one of the huge black and white mirrors. I locked the door and hurried to open the window, sliding through the door. The darkness of the night didn’t face me but my alert was high. Everybody could hide in the dark. My heart rocked against my chest as I saw the same guy from early waiting beside his car. I hurried along the alleyway, pulling my hood up and hiding my hair, disappearing into the dark.

“Calypso, boy for you.” I was brought from my memories by the rough voice of Andrei. Whoever didn’t spend much time with him would think he was mad all the time thanks to his voice and forever furrowed white bushy eyebrows. I matched the furrowing of his eyebrows when he mentioned a boy. I had been careful enough to not get attached or get anyone attached to myself so the mention of another human being besides Andrei spooked me.

Suddenly, the thought of agents looking for me or the usual threats I had filled me with panic. I heard the thunderous beat of my heart. The tremble of my hands disrupted the beautiful form of the pastry in my hands. quickly cleaning and taking away the apron full of white dust, I walked to the front of the door.

A dark-haired man in his early twenties stood next to the door with a blue box in his hands. A white shimmering ribbon adorned the delicate box, wrapping silkily around it to form a well-done bow. The chiseled bone structure of his profile caught my breath as he looked to the small, underpopulated plaza in the corner of the rondure. The curvature of his roman nose and the thin shape of his lips sticking in his profile.

I saw him regularly at the small bakery. His usual was a Papanaşia with a black strong coffee. He left three dollars on the tip jar three times a week and I noticed if he was overly happy, he would leave a fiver regardless of the day or how many days he had tipped. I had seen him mad twice in the store. Seemingly, he was one of those guys that harbored every trouble inside in a chaotic turmoil. I knew because I had invaded his mind one of those times. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, knowing he was always the type of guy that carried the sun on his shoulder. Every time he caught my attention, I tried to remind myself that he could’ve been an agent sent by Hydra to kill me or worse, kidnap me.

“Hello. What can I help you with?” I said, confidence laced in my voice. The confidence I did not expect to have. His head whipped towards me. A smile broke on his face at the sight of me. I saw the fidgeting of the box in his hands and the sudden bobbing of his knee. He didn’t appear to be harboring any secrets, or at least not deadly ones.

“Hey. I know this will probably look very weird to you but I’ve been watch- I mean not watching but I just- I,” His stammering caused a giggle to leave my lips involuntarily. My hand immediately flew to my lips, hiding the smile corrupting my face. He lowered his face but not before giving me one of those smiles that could light up a world. God, I felt sappy. He looked at me once again. “I don’t know how to do this. I definitely didn’t think it through.” He chuckled. One of his hands came up to brush his face while shaking it, side to side. I could tell he was nervous, maybe more that I initially had been.

Seeing him stammer was the cutest thing I had seen since the little green and purple flowers that grew back home and surrounded our palace. So, I decided to help him a bit. “You could start with your name,” I said, trying to not smile too much. Agent, agent, agent…

“God, you probably should’ve done that first. Nice one.” He said, more to himself than for me to hear it. “I’m Razvan. It's lovely to finally meet you.” I shook his hand. It was rough yet soft with elongated fingers caressing my own small and thin one.

“Calypso.”

“What I meant to say, you know, before I shot myself in the foot was that you caught my eye since I first saw you. Now, I swear I'm not stalking you because it could be easy to think after the horrible introduction I just did. But, yeah, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”

I did think about it. I swear I did. I thought about how he could be linked to Hydra and if you searched on the deepest paranoid corner, the Avengers. I thought he could’ve been just a random murderer whose floor I had shaken. My voice of reason said no. and with the saddest feeling settling my stomach, I told him what I thought. Or tried to.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t. You seem like the loveliest person b-but I…” For some reason, I couldn’t just say no. “Can I think about this?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth while I tried to get the words ‘go away and ‘don’t speak to me’ out of my mouth. His smile faded a bit, but even then he tried to keep his positivity and bright personality on. I could feel the waves of disappointment once I started speaking but hope soon came flooding back.

“Sure. I'm a complete stranger coming here every day just to see you. I can see how that’s alarming. take your time.” He shook his head as if realizing what he had just said. He chuckled and I tried to give him a small smile. Before I could turn away and leave, I felt him touch my elbow. I jumped back.

His brows furrowed quickly. “Forgive me. This is for you. And please accept it.” I thought about refusing but this would only prolong this meeting, pushing me to accept a company I wasn't ready for. I took the small box, my hand already trying to open the shimmering blue box. “No, please. Open it later, more calmly and everything and you can tell me whenever you’re ready if you like it.” I gave him a smile, which he returned brightly before diving back inside the back of the store.

Once inside, I undid the delicate ribbon, watching it dissolve like seafoam by the lovely blue water. The glistening gold chain with a tiny, colorful Koi fish rested in the center of the box. My heart swelled and I felt a way I hadn’t felt since Bucky. He remembered what I had told him that first, and the only time we had talked before today.

The voice of Andrei brought me out of my stupor with a jump. A hand traveled to grasp my heart while the other held the box tightly.

“Razvan is nice guy.” His voice was gruff and deep like it had been since I had met him. He walked behind me and grabbed a pack of flour to dump beside me. I looked towards the other and realized I was running out of it.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. Comes every day for two years. Great boy.”

When I didn’t say anything, he stopped cutting open the pack of flour and turned to look at me. “You too reserved. Not want to end like Andrei alone. Give guy chance.” That was all he said before he left. A tall wrinkly woman with short red hair calling out for him.

The last thing I thought that day after he left drove me to the same road he had set me on. I didn’t want to end alone or die alone for that matter. But what was I to do if everyone thought I was a selfish monster who just wanted to kill and bring chaos? The only person who didn’t feel that particular way was the same man I was leaving without saying goodbye.

Stark seemed to have gathered his words together because he suddenly began spewing some shit on Andrei. shit, he didn’t like it.

“The girl is no selfish girl. Only a fool like yourself would think so. Only a blind man would propose such a thing.” His brows were furrowed but Otherwise, he was calmly standing at the bottom of the stairs sipping his milk. He seemed like he would continue but I made sure to stop him

“Andrei, no.”

“I see. She holds you hostage and controls you, doesn’t she?” Stark countered, a smirk settling in his features. I pinched my nose, sighing loudly.

“You have to leave with this buffoon?” I walked down to his side, muttering an annoyed yes. “I’m sadder for you than him.” A chuckle escaped him as he hugged my shoulders with one arm. I tried to push him away but found no will to do so. I would miss Andrei. He felt like the father I never had. Worry settled in my stomach knowing I had been here and I would no longer be if anything happened to him. I hugged him back, despite my better judgment and the four pairs of eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t forget about me, violet. Nor dear Razvan.’ He told me after letting me go. I nodded before calling back to my two companions. Stark came down, slowly walked to the front door. Bucky at his heels. They both turned. Bucky’s face had some sort of emotion I couldn't decipher. I thought I could, but I doubt he would feel happy about finding someone genuine to spend my days with.

Stark, on the other hand, looked at Andrei as if he had grown an extra head.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be dying at her touch or something? Are you sure she didn’t threaten you to act this way?” The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely confused. The skepticism in his voice hurt my feelings but the mere fact it was stark made me forget quickly. He was an insensitive prick with a personal vendetta.

“Take this fool away before I turn him into a human pastry,” Andrei commented. I walked towards them, chuckling. “Ai grijă, violet aprins.” Take care, fiery violet. The elder said before we shut the door behind us. my heart swelled at his words. I knew I would long for those quiet evenings where it would rain and we would sit down in the living room with a book, quietly enjoying our presence. We laughed and made new and invented pastries in the kitchen for days, always looking for new and innovative flavors. I would miss the man that had treated me like his daughter.

“Take care, Pop.” I whispered to myself. Not thinking a long-haired blue-eyed soldier would hear.

And just like that, we disappeared quietly into the night and I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

James let me know they came in the Quinjet, that enormous thing I had refused to sit on two years ago. the walk was not far from where we were and we found it in a while.

The Quinjet was hidden behind one of the buildings next to the bakery. the gigantic thing sleeping while we arrived to climb up. clint stood outside, his arms crossed. that man always looked like he was in a power pose.

“Romania? What is it with chased people and Romania?” Confusion and genuine interest were written all over his face.

Barton had always been a friend before I knew the truth. Nat told me she had told him in a drunken stupor. he tried to talk to her about telling me but she didn’t listen. I didn’t hold it against him because I knew he wasn’t actively participating but he didn’t do anything either.

I shrugged. “It’s a good hiding place. too many criminals organizations for you to matter. nobody cares who the hell you are as long as you keep quiet.”

“Good shadow place.” Bucky added as he tried to help me get in the Quinjet. I ignored his hand, focusing on Clint’s face.

“Exactly.” My response was clipped. if he was fishing for a normal conversation he was in for a treat.

After a while, we took off. My legs became restless as I sat in front of Stark and Bucky while Clint piloted the flying thing. boredom pushed me to get up from my seat and walk towards the front of the Quinjet. that, and Straks glare along with the awkwardness of Bucky’s movements.

Clint’s focused face came into view as I sat beside him. silence engulfed the both of us before he broke the silence with some words I didn’t expect.

“We missed you.” it was a quiet remark but full of shocking force. I just sat there, wide-eyed looking towards the already clearing sky. I looked towards him and forced myself to respond. a scoff came out of me, causing Clint to look rapidly towards me.

“You have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. Nat was pretty shaken up when you left. we looked for you everywhere and decided you didn’t want to be found. that you needed some time. it took you longer than we thought.”

“You didn’t find me because you didn’t look. You don’t have to lie to me, Barton.” I said, masking the hurt I felt with anger. why keep lying to me? I knew they didn’t care sop they didn’t need to act as they did.

“What? we did loo-” He never finished his sentence since Stark’s voice boomed around the small space. he came to let us know where would land soon as if we didn’t know already. Clint was the pilot, it was impossible for us to not know. suspicion arose in my chest but I soon forgot it when I saw the massive compound below us.

✹✹✹ I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t fluttering and my hands trembled slightly. I subtly rubbed my hands in my jeans, hoping to get some moisture away. But, there was something else bothering me. It had been there for a little while. The emptiness in my chest divided in two, as though… I don’t even know. The doors slid with a swift sound and my heart rate hit new floors.

I tried to avoid showing any emotion I felt. Seeing them surrounding the long table, all in their daily clothing made it hard to remember. I couldn’t show the happiness of seeing them all right after two years. Nor could I show the excitement deep in my bones seeing Wanda’s face. I couldn’t forget the damage (situation) those high-held beings made to my heart.

I looked at them with a mask of indifference firmly placed.

Wanda was the first to step forwards, as I knew she would. I didn’t expect her to but a part of me screamed how she had been the only real friend through the year I spent in this cage. I resisted the urge to hug her, touch her, and receive the reassurance I so deeply wanted.

“I thought- we thought you were dead.” The revelation shocked me. It felt as though they couldn’t believe I was alive. But I was. The question was… why did they think so?

“Nop. Still kicking.” I replied.

“Unfortunately.” I heard Stark mutter under his breath. I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to kick him. I could make him feel a true kick in his brain. And his ass, too.

“Y/n!” A high-pitched voice came from the corner next to me. The smiley face of Pepper Potts came rushing towards me, engulfing me in a hug. My nerve endings shot and I prayed my instinctive responses wouldn’t go through. Fortunately for me, they didn’t. Before I could even think to hold her back—which I wouldn’t have done anyway— she stepped back. Smile intact and a gleam in her eyes capable of illuminating the whole room.

“Jesus. You’ve changed so much!” Her hands settled on my shoulder, holding softly and slightly shaking my shocked frame. “I missed you.” Her vice took a sweet edge and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes scrutinized me with the look of a mother who had just seen her child after a hard year abroad. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably out of her grasp. I wasn’t used to this.

“Honey, leave the feral alien alone.” Tony’s voice reached my ears. “We have important matters to discuss.”

“God, Tony. Give us a break. We haven’t seen the kid in two years.” Natasha’s ______ filled the room as I saw her taking steps towards me. I noticed there were no relaxed steps but tense and wary. Her eyes held a sort of apology mixed with caution.

I just stared. Deep inside I didn’t know how to react to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who betrayed me gets closer. Her body language told me she was sorry but still cautious of my reaction but I didn’t know if I should forgive her. Her right hand stretched towards my frame. I shifted uncomfortably in place, moving slightly away from her.

I saw her eyes roam my body, noticing the discomfort. She came to a halt three feet away from me. Her lips were pursed as she let her head drop for a second. She recovered quickly, extending her same hand towards me, this time to shake my hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

I took her hand in mine, shaking firmly. I nodded my head towards her. My lips pursed. The movement of Wanda’s body caught my eye. She stepped closer to me, her hands nervously trembling beside her big, red jumper.

“Can I hug you?” Hearing those words coming out of her froze the ongoing flow of blood through my veins. I was shocked, to say the least. I bet I looked like a gaping fish as an incomprehensible string of detached words escaped my lips. Everyone else seemed as surprised as I was. For completely different reasons I would bet. As Stark had said, they thought I was a free being.

She waited patiently, probably aware of the shock and ongoing battle I had inside me. She was the only one aware of my thoughts about showing anything besides contempt. And she knew why. But I sent it all to hell and for once, I did what I wanted to do. I nodded.

Her smile was worth enough as she moved quickly towards me, as though worried I would change my opinion. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck, my lack of height apparent as my 5’1 ass reached her shoulders. I resisted the urge to cry as I wrapped my arms around her back, relishing in a familiar face that didn’t hate my only existence.

“I missed you.” It was a whisper, only for me to hear. A small smile escaped my lips as hope blossomed in my chest. Hope that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Hope that maybe someday I could have a family.

“I did too, Red.” I murmured back. Careful to not raise my voice as I didn’t want anyone to know anything. I felt oddly vulnerable to be hugging someone let alone hugging someone in front of seven people. I noticed Vision staring and I gave him a subtle nod, a small smile creeping upon my lips. He nodded back with that usual blank expression not in compass with the feelings he harbored. After some time, I let her go before Stark had another remark to make.

I noticed Steve leaning against a far-away table, maybe ten feet away from where I was. His head lowered, eyes on the ground. His arms surrounded his build, hugging himself with a heavy frown on his face. He didn’t want to look towards me and I thought I knew why. He was ashamed of what he did. He was guilty anyway you looked at it. He was guided by Bucky to do everything. He followed the man despite knowing it was wrong. Not because your friend tells you to throw yourself out the window means you’ll do it. He knew full well what was wrong and right. He knew Barnes' proposal was as low as a man could get.

If he didn’t apologize and acknowledge what he did, he was dead to me. I mean, he had tried to apologize that day, but I was devastated and no words came through my anger.

There were a few handshakes and subtle nods here and there before I noticed a presence missing. I looked around for the usual big man with an overinflated sense of heroism but didn’t find him. He was big enough for anyone to spot him. I felt a pang in my chest and a tingle at the back of my head and I knew something was wrong. The air shifted and my hands started trembling slightly.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, my voice slightly shaky. I tried to compose myself, knowing he had to be alright or I would’ve felt something.

“We don’t know. We couldn’t get a hold of him.” Natasha replied. I noticed the subtle worry etched in her face lines.

Suddenly, I understood that emptiness inside me. That swirling emotion unlatched to an earthy body. One of the connectors inside of me, besides bucky’s, was empty. It didn’t have any energy to connect to.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t realize I began hyperventilating while the word repeated itself over and over in my head. My chest rose and fell quickly while the air got caught in my throat. My hand shot out to grasp anything in reach I could hold myself up with.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?” Wanda was the first to step forward and grab my elbow. Her soft touch didn't completely register in my sensory sense. The only thing in my mind was the heavy colorless fog swirling around in my insides.

The worst part was, I didn’t know which of my brothers it belonged to. I thought about them and how long it had been since I had seen them. Since I had been with them.

“Can you all excuse me?” I pulled myself together and without waiting for a response, I hurried across the room. I thought about the me that they just saw but somewhere deep down, I didn’t care.

I hurried, passing Steve's body. This time, he looked intently at me. I didn’t expect him to stand up and grab my shoulders. By this point, my vision was blurry and I tried hard to reconnect with the missing life essence.

“Y/n, I-”

“Can we do this later, Rogers?” I spat, cutting him off before getting my elbow out of his grasp. I left, shuddering and feeling a wave of anger rising in my chest.

What a good way to make a comeback.

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Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Cuteness?, fluff, swearing, no proofreading

Words: 2,191

Summary: A cold winter’s night gives Tommy inspiration to go for the woman he desires. After all, what gentleman would let a lady walk home in the teeth chattering cold?

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @stydia-4-ever​, @simonsbluee​, @marquelapage​, @stuckysslag​, @darling-i-read-it​, @psychkunox​, @peakyxtommy​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @fandom-puff​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The woman who worked with his family, sitting at the front of the betting shop despite being someone who should never have to see what horrors the Shelbys have. She was the one Tommy dreamt of the few times he’d actually been able to sleep. His heart thundered as he passed her, waving a hand with a kind and welcoming smile, a genuine one at that. His family could tease him all they’d like, but Y/n L/n had stolen Thomas’ heart and he was perfectly fine with that.

However, he wasn’t the best at telling her so. He could talk to her just fine but telling her he fancied her... Y/n was far too innocent. Sure, she wasn’t literally innocent but he couldn’t bear to bring her into the shit-show disguised as “family-business”. The smile she returned to him every time he passed her only reminded him of that.

“Mr. Shelby? You-” His head perked up, expression of deep thought washing away at the sound of her soft voice. Oh, her beautiful voice. It serenaded him without either of the two even realizing it.

“Again, please Y/n, call me Tommy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he let out a small chuckle, “I promise. Now, what about me?”

“Um... Oh! Yes! You have a visitor. I assume it’s about some Peaky Business so I told them I’d get you.”

Tommy nodded. “Thank you, Y/n.” His eyes had been fixated on her long enough to notice more about her appearance than he had a  The pink on the tip of her nose, the slightest hue of blue on her lips. “Y/n...come here please.”

“Alright...” She did as she was told. A small nervous feeling bounced around in her gut, alarm bells ringing. Tommy was hard to read, but the request scared her more. Ada was the one who got her the job, Tommy was the one who let her keep the job. Was he having second thoughts?

Before another worrying thought could make its way to her head, Tommy swung his coat over Y/n’s shoulders. A little sigh of relief, yet also a gasp of surprise, escaped Y/n’s lips as the coat began to envelope her in its warmth. Caught in the moment, her eyes flicked to Tommy’s, his to hers. They just stared. And yet, neither of them minded.

His face... It was like a Greek god, or an angel maybe? So imperfectly perfect.

That’s what he was.

She thought about his smile, not currently visible, but always on her mind. It looked so handsome, so charming, and, dare she say, pretty. His smile brought hers to her face. Even if it was hiding in the pits of the darkest, deepest, smallest hiding place on a bad day, his own called hers to the surface almost instantly.

The beautiful blue of Tommy’s orbs, like sapphires sparkling in the light that bounced off them or a mad ocean; the rage secretly a symphony as each wave crashed and washed away, a symphony only those who stopped to listen, actually listen, could hear. She had so many words and ways to describe the almost child-like look in his eyes, full of a hidden innocence ironically enough, but a knock at the door tore them away from her before they even reached her mouth.

 “Mr. Shelby? If you and your...uh...friend are done here, I have some business to talk with you.” The man was impatient. Luckily, his scare drew an instant reaction from Y/n. She had hurriedly turned around to face the guest with a flushed expression across her face the moment the door swung open. With her attention elsewhere, she missed the wince the man elicited from Tommy when he called Y/n his “friend”.

“Yes. We’re done. Y/n, you may go back to your work now.” He excused her with the same lift of his lips he’d always given her, only this time, the corners of his mouth were a little higher, a little closer to his eyes. This was progress.

A thin sheet of snow, white as angel’s wings, cloaked Small Heath. The waters were slick with ice. The cold wrapped its arms round Birmingham, Mother Nature hoping to warm her children and herself regardless of her cold skin. It nipped at the tips of noses like she was booping her finger against them in attempt to draw a smile from her shivering children.

Tommy cursed to himself. It felt so much colder than it did at the start of the day- one person on his mind upon the realization. Y/n had left a little prior to Thomas, just like she did every other day. Her reddened nose, her trembling lips as her teeth subtly and silently chattered, her fragile form even more so with her arms wrapped around her and Tommy’s coat in attempt to gain warmth. The images never seemed to leave his brain, especially not when she returned his coat.

He began to walk home, still focused on Y/n. Pondering up a variety of situations, good and bad, he tried to reassure himself. Constant anxiety was not new for Tommy. He worried for his family, for his friends- for Y/n... Too much was on his mind but he couldn’t seem to shake any of it off.

Although he was looking straight ahead- looking where he was going, he wasn’t entirely paying attention. A grunt slipped from his throat as he walked into someone, knocking them over and causing him to stumble. Normally, he’d just tell them to watch it, but as he regained focus on what’s in front of him rather than what’s been bothering him, he paused.

She too was surprised, having literally been knocked off her feet by none other than Thomas fucking Shelby. Her head jerked upwards to see who had walked into her, a similar intensity as Tommy’s. But she softened as well, untensing when his face, those baby blue gems, came into her view. He looked so puzzled, so...guilty.

“Fuck!” He was quick to drop the ground and help her up, checking her for any form of injury. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you alright? You look frightened-”

“I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings, I must’ve walked right into you. You know I didn’t mean for that to happen, love? It was purely on accident. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Anything at all?”

“Tommy. It’s alright.” The way she said his name was comforting. Her voice was soothing as usual. Her hand came to his upper arm, a relaxed and friendly grip. She gave him a squeeze, letting him know she meant it, that she was serious. “But, before I answer your second question, please, answer mine.”

Thomas was ready to ignore her, lips already parting to ask her again, but the sincerity of her concerned demeanor crumbled the facade he’d put up. He released a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m just- ...worried.” It took a lot for him to admit some things, but the feeling of relief that surged through him after he told her...it felt like she took the burden from his shoulders.

“About what?”

He looked around for a minute and then suddenly stopped. Now that he thought about it, they weren’t that far from his place. He looked back to her. Her form was just as cold as it was this morning, the color of her lips had darkened, likely from longer time in colder weather.

“How about this. You come with me, to my place, we warm you up, get you a cup of tea, and then I’ll tell you.”

“W-what? No, Tom, you don’t have to-” There it was again. His name. She was like a siren, luring Thomas Michael Shelby, the helpless sailor, his name entwined with her voice- her melody. Her form did not change, as it was her he desired most.

“No, I do. I’m the reason you were on the ground, I’m the reason you’re covered in snow, but I’ll be damned if I become the reason you freeze to death out here.”

“I won’t-”

“You live quite some distance away,” his final attempt, a pleading sigh to mark it as so, and he was determined to make it a strong one, “...at least let me drive you home.”

She looked to be in serious contemplation of his offer, biting her lip and rocking back in forth to collect some warmth from movement before she returned her eyes to his. “...Fine.”

“I’d still like to get you warmed up though, so you can’t turn me down about that, yeah?”

The air escaping her parted lips could just barely be seen. Huddled by the fire, wrapped in Tommy’s sheets with a mug in her hands resting close to her face, the sinister chill was retreating from her body. Tommy felt his heart speed as he watched her. It felt...right. It felt right to have her be safe and warm, just as it felt right to have her there, with him.

Though a number of feelings were checked as “right”, there was a rather large one that didn’t. There was a feeling that wasn’t right, that hadn’t been satiated. His feelings for her poked at him, urging him to kiss her, hug her, ask her, to do something! Anything!

“You going to tell me what was on your mind, or was that just a trick to get me to accept your ride home, Mr. Shelby?” The grin that was present on her lips could be practically be heard as she asked the question.

“Not a trick, I promise.” His chuckle brought a chortle to Y/n’s mouth. He walked to the fire, sitting beside her. “I’ll tell you. But first...you have to promise me something.”

“Yes, anything.”

“Promise me that you won’t go spreading my business where it doesn’t need to be.” He took a deep inhale, exhaling it as he prepared to speak his next request involving her reaction. “And promise me this won’t affect our relationship.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “...I-...  I promise, but, ...I don’t understand how it could make a change between us?”

“It just...” He lifted his hands, scanning his brain for the right words. His hands dropped, making a small sound as they hit his thighs, the sound hidden only slightly by his sigh. “It just can.”

“How so? I mean, surely it’s-”

“I was worried about you.”

“O-oh? Thank you, that’s very-”  She didn’t understand. But how could he blame her with her lack of context?

“No. I was worried about you because I seem...” a pause to get it out. “I seem to have fallen in love with you.” He looked into the fire with an intensity. He looked at it as if looking at her would make him crumble on the spot. The moments passing by without any response from her made the fire so much more entertaining. Tommy Shelby couldn’t be scared by much, he’d already been through war, but this? It scared him.

A part of him wanted to look at her, see the reaction just in case it was just a lack of verbal response...but another part didn’t want to face the disappointment. Y/n was a nice woman and Tommy could never bring himself to hate her. Losing her would be hard, but seeing her at work would be harder. Tearing her from the job she cherished would be harder. He couldn’t do that to her.

Luckily, “Your eyes are so pretty...” he didn’t have to. “Your eyes, your smile-  everything about you has the stars jealous of its beauty. Personally, I wondered if our lips would meet. Today, in your office. It took everything in me not to surge forward, taste your lips on mine.” She snickered lightly, “Excuse my bluntness.”

“I like your bluntness. I only wish I’d been gifted with it.” He joined in, turning to face her, finally. He took a moment to admire the way her features looked in the orangey light from the fire. His eyes, observing her face with great interest, traveled to her lips before flicking back up to hers.

“Is that so?... Well, Tommy, now’s a good time to be blunt.”

“Pardon?”

She’d seen it. Fixated, just like him, on his eyes, specifically. “If you want to kiss me, just say so.” She’d caught him, easily with how entranced they both were.

He thought to himself. What’s blunter than saying he wanted to kiss her?

It happened in one swift motion. One second she was giving him a smug quirk of her brow, the next, her lips her locked with his. They pulled away, slowly and hesitatingly. “That was...as blunt as I could be.”

A laugh erupted from her. The sound sweeter than the songbirds. Then, Tommy smiled. Even if he wouldn’t be her target, in a boat on a restless sea, he knew, without a single doubt, that he’d go to her willingly. In fact, he did. And upon reaching the siren, perched on a sturdy ledge-like-rock, he realized she meant no harm. Tommy smiled. The smile reached his eyes.

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[solaeter]

hate that I love you - Naoya Zenin [18+]

I haven’t actually written smut in like two years..well finished smutty content. I can barely start it and finish it, shame on me but I am pathetic °(ಗдಗ。)°. I am so nervous and shy, so pls no pitchforks and tomatoes _(:3」∠)_ this is a repost cause doubt hit me for a hot minute, but we gon be brave (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ 

Word Count: 2311

Request Status: OPEN

Warning[s]: Adult content, minors dni!! idk proper warnings cause my brain is fried atm, but there’s oral [f receiving], penetration which is given, slight manipulation? Naoya cause he’s a warning all on its own, noob attempt at dirty talk [I died k]. reader chan tries to hate naoya but can’t. It’s just porn without plot unless you squint.

Just when you thought you were safe, reality had another thing in mind. Strong hands pulled your hips up with a force that had your face hugging the pillow before you could register how you even allowed yourself to end up like this.

Why did it have to be now? You really thought you managed to get away. "Why are you doing this?" You turn your head, teeth latching to your bottom lip when two fingers glide along your clothed slit. 

"You don't seem to mind." Naoya remarked, his voice laced with disinterest and boredom while his eyes roamed your body. Three months..that's how long he's been without you. His favorite toy. "You're already so wet for me, miss my cock that much?" He questioned with a sneer, sliding your pretty little panties to the side. The sudden chill made you squirm and his words bit at your budding arousal.

"Couldn't you have found someone else to toy with?" You avoided his question, voice hitching when he slid a finger up your dripping slit, stopping at your clit and circling the bud ever so slowly. It wasn't fair how he could work your body so effortlessly. Your mouth parts as your eyes squeeze shut. 

Naoya smirks, his eyes never leaving your cute little cunt while you try to look as displeased as possible. You should have known getting away from him was quite literally impossible. He owned you. 

"Why should I find someone else when I only need you?" The sentence itself sounded sweet, but you knew it was far from what it suggested. Ever since you met Naoya, he's had you by the palm of his hand. He used you for his own needs, taking and taking before tossing you to the side. Yet, you lingered and remained loyal until you tried to end things. Naoya let you live in a false sense of newfound freedom, giving you just enough space before making your world tumble back down, right where he wanted you. 

Now, there was no denying that you looked absolutely stunning before him. Your body was meant for him, made for him to fuck over and over. You were his missing puzzle piece. When you don't answer Naoya, he clicks his tongue and brings his fingers down to your entrance, the tips teasing your hole before plunging knuckle deep, your walls clamping around him beautifully while you cry out.

The sudden intrusion made your thoughts muddle together and everything seemed to spin. Naoya could make you so stupid so easily and he laughs, so humorously. "Why would I find someone else when you're so..fucking worthless without me. I haven't even done anything and you're already stupid."

You glance back over your shoulder, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his cold ones. He never showed you an ounce of love, only half an inch of interest and a load of selfish, one sided desires. "I hate you." You spat while gripping the sheets when another finger eased its way inside you, stretching you further. Naoya curled his fingers roughly, swiping over the one spot that had stars in your eyes. He knew your body better than you knew it. Or so he claimed with a sense of pride. 

No matter how long you've been apart, Naoya would be sure to remind you that no one else will make you feel the way he does. Even if you're spouting words of hate, he just knows you won't stay away for too long. "Heh, sure you do." 

You wanted to be angry, call him out for being a vile piece of shit but nothing came out of your mouth besides helpless moans. 

"Look at you, so pretty and fucking useless. Baby can't even argue with me." Naoya talked down at you, thrusting his fingers in and out of your pretty cunt until you're clenching around him with a strangled, frustrated cry as pleasure washed over your body. "Damn, you couldn't even hold it in. I'm disappointed." Naoya removes his fingers and your hole clenches around nothing, searching for more.

Oh his little whore. To ruin you is his greatest desire. To have you so wrapped around him, that nothing else in this world can compare to what he does. It makes his blood boil in such a way he can't describe and it shoots straight down to his cock. But he can't have you just yet. 

Naoya has to break you more, see you crumble. So he flips you over and the gasp that leaves your pouty lips is nothing short of stupidly adorable. Even more so is how you look at him with wide, teary eyes. As if that would make his heart soften.

"Finally have something to say or are you just gonna stare at me like a fucked out fool?" Naoya spread your legs, bending to hike your skirt around your waist before fully removing your soaked panties. You were compliant, unmoving while he did as he pleased. To be honest, words failed you more when you needed them most. 

"I– please forgive me for leaving.." 

Naoya perked up when the words left your mouth, his own lips twisting into that of a sinister smile. "So you decided on being a good little bitch." He murmurs, placing a hot kiss on the side of your thigh. You always looked so good sprawled out before him, at his mercy. It had his mind spinning in circles, all the possibilities running rampant. "Where's your fight?" He asked casually, inching closer to your puffy cunt and you look down at him only to snap your head back onto the pillow. 

"I have none, I should have listened the first time." 

That sentence you knew by heart considering you've had to confess your wrong doings on multiple occasions. Naoya hums, content as his nose brushes against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body reacts on its own, knees bending and toes curling into the satin sheets. You tried to resist him, tried your damndest but it never worked. It frustrates you, so much that you groan and nearly close your legs around Naoya's stupidly pretty head. 

Firm hands catch your legs and dark eyes land on you. "Oh [Name], tell me what you're feeling. I'm dying to know." He didn't care. You let out a half laugh and sit up on your elbows. 

"I hate you. With my entire being but I can't get away. It's not fair. You're– ahh not f-fair." Your words falter when Naoya's tongue slides up your cunt, lapping up your essence before going back down to your entrance.

"Mhmm.." He listens half heartedly, instead enjoying the sweet taste of you that graces his lips. You became putty in his hands, just like that. So simple, one movement. One hand threaded through his short locks, fingers grasping onto what it could once his tongue dipped inside your awaiting hole. 

"Fuu–" You toss your head back, involuntarily pushing Naoya closer which causes him to chuckle and the rumbling of his body only has you sinking further into his palm. He watched you, how your chest would rise and fall as you panted, moaned and clung to him helplessly. Your reactions had his cock throbbing in his pants and he wasn't going to be able hold out much longer. 

Adjusting one of his arms, Naoya's fingers soon met your clit and circled it quickly, building you higher and higher. Your body jerks and he keeps a hold of you, halting your hips to keep you still. 

You tasted divine, like a special wine made just for Naoya. Your pretty moans were like music to his ears and when he pulls back, the whine that leaves your lips sounded almost sinful. "N-Naoya.." You look at him, eyes blown wide and vulnerable, so close to paradise. He smirks and continues his assault on your clit.

"What? You seem to be getting off just fine with my fingers. Now be a good little slut and cum for me." Naoya coos and just like that, your body listens to his every command. The coil snaps and your body trembles, legs spasming and threatening to close around his head but his unoccupied hand keeps them open while you cry out, incoherent words leaving your lips. 

Naoya can't deny the sight and he groans, the desire to fuck you clouding his thoughts. ""Ah– fuck – what a good girl." He praised, an odd thing coming from him but it has you smiling so stupidly. You watch Naoya through half lidded eyes as he eases you from your high, rubbing small, slow circles around your sensitive clit. Your hips still move with him, your body wanting more.

"Naoya..I need you inside me." You barely manage and if it wasn't for the fact Naoya was so turned on, he would have bitched at you. Instead he uses his free hand to undo his pants and free his aching cock from its hellish confines. 

Your eyes lock onto the throbbing member that now rests in his hand as he pumps it languidly. "Do you really deserve my cock? Last I checked," Naoya hovers above you, situating the tip right at your entrance. "You've been a bad girl." He teases you, pushing the tip just barely inside you before pulling back out. You whine, loudly with a pathetic pout forming on your lips. 

"Please, I need you. So bad, I'll never leave again!" You cry, beg and lift your hips in search of what you wanted so bad. All fight, resistance and negative feelings vanished when all your mind and body wanted was him to consume you..

“Is that so?” Naoya hummed, bottoming out inside of you before you could continue your pleas. Your eyes roll back and he has to suppress the groan that dares escape his own mouth. He never grew tired of how you felt; how your walls fluttered around his cock, how you took him so willingly. So easily. You were truly meant for him. 

The pace is set with languid thrusts, Naoya driving himself deep into your velvety walls. He watches your face contort and twist with pleasure and pain due to his size, it had him surging with a sense of animalistic pride. “Remember who you belong to.” He says lowly in your ear and all you can muster is a quick nod of your head as whimpers and cries leave your delicate lips. Your arms snake around his shoulders, keeping Naoya close while your legs lock around his waist.

“Look at you,” Naoya groans, shifting so that you now sat on his lap, his cock hitting places that made your head spin, “Taking me so well- goddamn - be a little louder. Let everyone hear what a slut you are.” He demands, his voice low and strained. You helplessly comply, bouncing up and down on his lap like a good girl. Your head was warped, just like he wanted. Every moan, cry and wail sounded like a symphony that was only meant for him. Naoya held your hips tightly, guiding your frantic movements, hitting every spot inside you that made you grasp onto him like some type of savior.

Ah yes, Naoya definitely is your savior in his sick twisted head. Though he hisses when your nails scratch his neck, leaving noticeable marks that surely would be questioned later. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest. If anything, it made him fuck you harder, his cock ramming your drenched hole as if it were his last day on this earth. The lewd sounds of your juices squelching every time he fills you had him going crazy and he ignored how you drenched his lap, uncaring of the mess since he so graciously caused it. 

“So close, Naoya please,” Your voice is weak and broken, body trembling as it reaches the peak of nirvana. Naoya wasn’t far off from his own release and instead of being a total asshole like he wanted to be, he held you close.

“Let it go, baby.” He urged before biting down on your neck, sucking the tender spot to leave a claim on your body. You whine and unravel, pleasure overwhelming your body, legs trembling and shaking, you were thankful to be on his lap or you would have gone down. Naoya continues to fuck you, chasing his own release and groaning loudly when hot ropes of cum paint your delicate walls. He fills you completely, uncaring if you ended up bearing one of his kids. Hell the thought only made him feel more possessive. It would give him a greater claim over you, keep you with him.

Before Naoya allowed himself to get aroused once more, he removed you off his lap and got off the dirtied bed to fix his clothing. You watch in your fucked out daze, the grips of confusion and longing playing tug of war in your heart. 

“W-Where are you going?” Your voice sounded so soft, so submissive. Naoya glances back and he admires his handiwork. You were an absolute mess. “You can’t..just leave me like this.” 

How desperate. Naoya bit back a laugh, bending to pick up your discarded panties and toss them onto your stomach. 

“If you want me so bad, you know where to find me.”

With that, Naoya bids his farewells and leaves you like you did to him three months ago. But he knew that you’d come crawling to him before the night ended.

On the other hand, you stared at the ceiling until your heart calmed down and were able to get off the bed. Would you run back to him? Even though you wanted to say no, your body said otherwise with the longing for his touch.

The only thing you knew for certain was that you hated that you loved him. 

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - chapter vii

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

John’s P.O.V.

I groaned as a new wave of warmth took over my body, prompting me to get rid of my shirt and undershirt. Fucking rut. It’d been years since it was this bad, but I guess the existence of a new mate had my body struggling to control itself.

Just the thought of her had me reaching out for the back of a chair in an effort to keep myself up. I was hardening inside the jeans I was wearing, and she wasn’t even near to justify this reaction. The boys had convinced her to join them for some drinks at the bar, and if I was feeling at least a little better, I’d be with them, making sure she wouldn’t just end up in the claws of some random Alpha… even if it was stupidly egoistic of me.

I knew she had every right to search for what I wasn’t willing to give her, but I still struggled to accept it on a biological level. My instincts were constantly calling out to her, wanting to bend her body over the nearest surface and just take…

… what I didn’t have any right to own. God, this was awful. I was being awful, and I knew it. But still, especially right now, with my alpha impulses threatening to take over me, all I wanted was her. More than desire, I needed her. And as that urgency became more pressing, I found myself reaching out for my nightstand, my rough hands easily finding the soft fabric I had hidden here for a time like this.

“This should help,” I thought to myself before I unzipped my jeans and took a seat on the only chair in the room, staring at my bed with her panties curled around my hand as I imagined her there. “Why do you have to be so goddamn intoxicating?” I groaned out loud, instinctively raising the fabric to my nose and breathing her in. I still could barely believe that I’d had my fingers inside of her, swirling in her wetness, making her drip between her thighs.

Just the thought of it made my mouth water.

I was so lost in the sensation of her still dampened fabric against my member, my eyes closed as I breathed through my mouth in an effort to imagine her here, I didn’t realize her scent was becoming stronger. I didn’t realize it until my door slammed open.

“Oh… Oh my God!” She whispered, eyes taking in the entire situation - my nude body, her underwear on my fist, as it was curled around my cock, the scent of my rut drenching the bedroom,  I was certain. 

“Come here,” I ordered, my voice hoarse and my eyes barely open as the smell of her own state took over me. “Strip.” She did so without any hesitation, walking into the room and closing the door behind her before getting out of her short shorts and top, her nipples hardening in the humid air of the room. “Not wearing any underwear,” I mocked, only to see her eyebrows raise high as she stared at the panties in my hand.

“Seems like a good opportunity to remind you that you never gave those back to me.” It made me chuckle, her still persisting innocence, but I shut her down quickly.

“And I never will. Now shut up and lay down on the bed.” I knew I was being harsh, but it was taking every single bit of my control not to snap and just take her. This was the best I could do, especially seeing her bare before my eyes for the first time.

She looked behind her to check on the bed before turning back to me as if confirming that was what I really wanted. I knew where she was coming from - beds for omegas were almost sacred, the place where they built their nest and that brought them the biggest sense of safety and comfort - but my need to have her there was growing each second she hesitated.

“Go,” I ordered, nodding once as I watched her take a seat on the soft mattress, body in front of mine. “Spread those legs for me.” Her eyes trailed down my body as she abided by my wishes, exposing her wet folds to my hungry gaze. God, she looked delicious. I wanted nothing more than to kneel before her and lap every single drop of her sweetness.

I could still remember the way she tasted. More delicious than anything I’d ever had the pleasure of trying. I knew I’d never forget it, but right at that moment, with her scent taking over my room, the thought of ever coming even close to forgetting her and her arousal was nothing short of ludicrous.

I squeezed my member right as it started throbbing in my fist from the lack of attention. She seemed hypnotized by it, and I licked my lips at the prospect of her being as fascinated by the thought of my knot as I was about her and her little cunt.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to you,” I demanded, absolutely transfixed by the sight of her playing with herself on top of my bed.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It felt right, being there with John, baring my body and soul to him in such an intimate way. There was not an inch of me that felt embarrassed or intimidated by my nudity under his transfixed stare. If anything, it made me even more aroused.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” I admitted before I could even realize what had escaped my lips. John’s smirk didn’t leave me much room for self-doubt, though. It was clear this was exactly what he wanted, me in my most vulnerable state, revealing my deepest desires to him.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like that?” The sight of him licking his lips was incredibly erotic in all of its simplicity, and I threw my head back, exposing my neck as I fucked myself faster.

“Fuck yes. I want to choke on your cock. I want you to leave me a whiney, spitting mess.” A low rumble reverberated in the room, undoubtedly coming from his exposed chest as he looked ready to pounce on me.

“Oh, don’t doubt it for a second that I would. What else?” The roughness in his voice had me whining as more juices covered my fingers, and I had to bite my lip as I saw his thighs clench.

“Want you to fuck me,” I added, words coming harder and harder as I fucked myself in front of him. “Want you to stuff me with your cock until I can’t walk anymore. Want you to be the only thing I remember… The only thing…” My legs started to shake as I cried out, interrupting myself as I struggled with my orgasm.

“God, you’re such a fucking tease.” His voice pierced through the cloud of pleasure I was currently riding, still stuck between wanting to cum and wanting to prolong this feeling as much as possible. “Even on my bed, completely naked, with your little fingers inside that wet fucking pussy, you’re still nothing but a needy brat.”

The words had me moaning out loud, and I was sure I’d be thinking about why later. Right then though, there was no way in hell any rational thought could be held in my aroused state of mind. I was practically humping my own digits as he commanded, “Let go for me, c’mon. Cum all over those fingers.”

It was automatic. Just as soon as his words were out, I felt myself clenching, the room suddenly spinning from the force of my orgasm. I was sure it never came close to the one he could give me if he were to fuck me right then and there.

“Yeah, just like that… Now tell me, little brat… How would you like me to fuck you? Would you want me to be slow and passionate?” His words were mocking, but I was too out of it to notice. I’d stopped moving as I waited for my sensitivity to calm down, but he didn’t like that. “Keep fucking yourself.” He didn’t need to use his Alpha voice to have me instantly obeying him. “Now tell me.”

“I… I’d want you to be rough.” A growl escaped him from my admission, and it had me whimpering in return. God, I wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with me, turn me around, and take me on my hands and knees until I was begging him to stop.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” And that was how I realized I’d been voicing my deepest desires out loud. I was close to cumming again, but contrary to the time he touched me, tonight he seemed to want me to cum as many times as possible. “I’d have to use my fingers to stretch you open. There’s no way I’d be able to fit my knot without fucking you open before.”

Just his words were enough to have me reaching another orgasm, and I closed my eyes to relish it as another satisfied gasp escaped my lips. A groan pierced through my hazy mind, along with another order, “I know you can get louder. Fuck yourself faster, fucking scream for me.”

And just like that, he was able to coax yet another orgasm out of me. Or maybe it was the same one, I couldn’t tell anymore. I felt like I was drunk, just on the atmosphere of the room, the smell of sex, and the way my own juices ran down my thighs…

“Yes, that’s it… Soak my sheets, real nice…” His words had me clenching around my digits every single time. “Yes… such a good girl for me…” I watched him fist himself, his jerking motions faster and faster as he watched me come apart over and over again right before his eyes.

One thing was sure, he’d be smelling me for days. The way I drenched his bed would certainly have him surrounded by me for the remainder of his rut, and just the thought of him laying down on it had me going crazy. 

But nothing could compare to the sight before my eyes, the way he threw his head back and closed his own eyes as his fist got even quicker before stopping altogether, his body becoming covered in his own release. 

My mouth watered at the sight. I wanted to crawl to him and lick him all over, maybe even wrap my lips around the head of his dick and suck it until I made him moan my name out loud.

“I keep wondering what your lips taste like…” His voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I noticed his own gaze was stuck on the apex of my thighs. “Both pairs.” There was silence then, a heavy, sexually-tense silence that had my entire body buzzing with excitement.

Was this it? Would he finally take me and make me his?

“Get out of my bed.” His next words, the cold tone in which they were uttered made my head snap up to meet his gaze. Contrary to what it was just seconds before, it was empty and detached, like he wasn’t even seeing me anymore.

“What?” I asked, still paralyzed from the whirlwind of emotions.

“Out. Get out of my bed. Go to your room and lock the door. Now.” I waited a few more seconds to see if he would change his mind yet again, but as he avoided my eyes and stood up to go to his bathroom without as much as glancing at me, my decision was made.

I needed to get the hell out of there.

[mycatshuman]

Wrapped Up In A Rom Com

Chapter 3: Mom?!?!?!?

🏳️‍🌈 First off, happy pride month. Second, yeah I know it's been months. And I've had this in my draft for months. I'm sorry. Honestly, I've been watching a lot of the Dreamsmp and playing games on my phone and preparing for graduation. So yeah. I'll try to get back to writing but I cant promise anything.

Warnings: some swearing, mentions of leeches used as a medical practice, let me know if I missed any

Last | Next | More

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"There it is." Roman's eyes lit up as he saw the temporary house that had been set up for the group of archeologists to live in as they excavated the site. Virgil smiled slightly. Roman looked really pretty in that moment that he wasn't even going to try and deny that he was looking. He dragged his eyes away from the mummy and sighed. "Now we just have to get inside." 

The pair moved up the stairs and Virgil pulled out his key and unlocked the door. "Now, try to stay quiet. Everyone's asleep and I don't know if I'm ready to try to explain this." Virgil paused. "Hell, I don't think I'll ever be ready to explain this to anyone." Virgil and Roman quietly stepped into the house and closed the door behind them. "Sorry, it's a little dark so bear with me." 

Suddenly, with a click, a lamp flared on across from them. The two froze. Virgil looked over and pulled in a hiss through his teeth. His boss sat there in an old armchair, his arms crossed and his mouth pulled down in a frown. "Where have you been?" 

Virgil's eyes shoot down to the floor. "Uhhhhh." Roman looked back and forth between the two, confusion evident on his face. Virgil attempted to inch his way to his room only to crumble to the floor as he put pressure on his injured ankle. 

"Virgil!" Roman dropped to his knees to help catch the other as the other man surged to his feet and rushed to their aid. Roman held Virgil up as the other man kneeled before them. 

"What did you do?" The man asked. 

Virgil winced. "I fell." 

The man paused and raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

Virgil bit his lip. "Uh, no. I don't think I do care to elaborate, Logan." 

Logan rolled his eyes. "You are ridiculous." 

Virgil forced a grin that was really more of a grimace. "What happened is even more ridiculous and you wouldn't believe me so…"

Logan leaned forward and pulled off Virgil's shoe and began to unwrap his ankle to take a look at the injury. "Maybe you shouldn't assume whether or not I would believe you." 

"Alright, I went for a walk and fell through the hole of a tomb that is practically completely untouched and I found the burial chamber and then the mummy came to life and now he's here." 

Logan paused in his attendance to Virgil's ankle. "You're right, I don't believe you." 

Virgil groaned. "Come on, Logan! Look at him, he's real. He was a mummy not even five hours ago!" 

Logan huffed. "Honestly, Virgil. That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard." 

"But it's true!" 

"He's right, I am a mummy, er, I was a mummy."

"I'm offended. Seriously, if you were going to try and fool me you could at least get a convincing actor."

Roman gasped, outraged. "Excuse you! But I am an absolutely amazing actor!" 

"It's not a prank!" 

Roman quickly pulled out a statue of himself he had grabbed from his tomb. "Look!" He shoved the statue into Logan's face, nearly knocking the others glasses off. 

Logan rolled his eyes but took the statue to look at it better. As he adjusted his glasses, he studied the statue before looking up at Roman. "You do look a little similar but that doesn't prove anything. All it proves is you look similar to him." He inspected the statue some more. He frowned. "This is in incredibly good condition." He glanced at Roman suspiciously. "Did you fake this?" 

Virgil groaned and let his head fall back into Roman's chest and whatever Roman was about to respond with just vaporized as his brain short circuited. Guy on chest. Guy on chest. Guy on chest! 

"Logan, why can't you just believe me? Why would I make this up? Why would I sit here and make a fool of myself in front of you?" Virgil sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Whatever." He attempted to drag himself up only for Logan to stop him. 

"Hey, no. I still have to check your ankle." 

The room went silent as Logan checked Virgil's ankle. Roman watched on with curiosity.  

"It's still swollen. Maybe you need to get some leeches." 

Virgil went rigid and Logan froze. "I'm sorry, What?" 

"Wait, do you not use leeches anymore?"

Virgil's nose scrunched in disgust. "No! We've long since moved past that." He shook his head. "I don't even want to begin to think of what else you might possibly suggest for medical problems." 

Logan went quiet as he quickly finished inspecting Virgil's ankle and stood up to go grab an ice pack. The archeologist student frowned. His boss was being uncharacteristically silent. Something was up. When the other came back, he kneeled once again and gently pressed the ice to the ankle. Virgil bent forward and held the pack in place as Logan sat back. 

"I-" The other began before closing their mouth again. Virgil watched Logan hesitantly as Roman poked at the ice pack. 

"It's cold!" The mummy exclaimed. 

Logan shook his head."I-" he sighed. "Virgil, I hope you understand how hard it is for me to grasp this or even entertain the possibility of this. But maybe this is real. But, we're going to have to do tests." 

"Tests?" Roman asked as his attention shot up to look at the other. 

Logan nodded. "Yes, to see if I can find any bit of evidence to support your claims." 

"Great, now can I please go to bed, I'm fucking exhausted." 

"Of course, I'll see you in the morning." 

Logan left and Roman and Virgil were alone once again. The latter huffed before pulling himself up and began limping up the stairs. "Come on, I have a second bed in my room. You can sleep there." Together, they went up to the second floor and down the hall until they reached another flight of stairs. "I'm suddenly regretting choosing the attic as my room," Virgil complained. 

Roman followed, eyes wide as he took in the walls around him. It was so different from what he was used to. And that was exciting. But the hallways were nothing compared to Virgil's room. Inside, he found a desk against one wall and two beds. On the desk there was this strange rectangular silver thing that sat flat against the desk and a small container with small tube-like objects sticking out of it. Next to it, a pad of sorts sat. Roman was so absolutely excited to find out what all of these new objects were. It would be his greatest adventure yet. He just knew it!

----------

Virgil dropped his bag by the door as he limped over to his bed and fell face first into the blankets. Roman yelped. "Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" 

Virgil lifted his head up, confusion spread across his face. "What?" He asked before he remembered what the ancient Egyptians used to sleep on. He let out a laugh. "Oh no! These are soft. There's a bedframe, which would be similar to what you used to sleep on but we added a mattress that's soft and it's better for our bones." The archeologist pushed himself up and patted the bed. "Come on, see for yourself." 

Roman set his basket done on the floor and walked over to the other bed curiously. Virgil watched on with amusement. Quickly, the mummy quickly poked the mattress as if it would bite him if he let his finger linger on the object for any longer. 

Virgil laughed lightly. "Don't worry, it won't bite." 

Roman stuck his tongue out at the other before turning back to the bed once more. He reached forward slowly and pushed his hand into the mattress. Sparkles sprung up in his eyes as he felt the soft blankets. Carefully, he climbed up into the bed noting the lack of pain on his skin that used to come with the bed he once slept in before he died. Tentatively, he bounced. Laughter bubbled up out of his mouth and he looked over at Virgil. 

The emo's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the Pharaoh's eyes. His dark eyes were overflowing with joy and wonder. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He watched in awe as Roman began bouncing gleefully on his bed, giggles bubbling out into the room. Virgil smiled softly and laid down, perfectly content with watching the greatest treasure from Roman's tomb as he experienced pure joy for the first time in thousands of years. 

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

If last night was anxiety inducing, it was nothing compared to this morning. While being caught by Logan was unpredictable as his reactions could range from Disappointed Mom™️ to Unhinged Scientist™️, it was nothing compared to how the resident Dad would react. The resident Dad was none other than Patton Crofters, the polar opposite to his husband Logan. He had met both of them in college. Dr. Logan Crofters had been his Archeological professor. He had often stressed his disdain for puns so when Virgil first met Patton, he nearly choked to death when the other introduced himself with a pun. That was when Virgil learned that his professor hated puns except for when his husband made them. 

The three had grown close, Patton having proclaimed he was his godfather now. It was an interesting friendship. When the two asked if he wanted to join them on their archeological dig that summer, he had jumped at the chance. He quickly learned that Home Dad Patton was different from Archeological Dig Dad Patton. 

Archeological Dig Dad Patton was stricter than at home. He popped up next to Virgil nearly every hour with sunscreen to coat him in and a bottle of water and a snack. He also made sure that Virgil was being very careful when handling anything that could result in him getting hurt if he wasn't careful. Of course Patton was always like that but when at the dig site, Patton was scarily so. And Patton didn't hold back with swear words. Virgil remembered the first time Logan had denied Patton with sunscreen saying that he was busy. Patton had huffed and responded with "Logan Crofters. Stand up right now and put on the fucking sunscreen!" He wasn't sure he had ever seen Logan move so fast. 

Virgil had seen what Patton does when upset with someone and it was harsh. He remembered Logan coming into class one day extremely sad because he had upset Patton and his husband had denied any kisses. Needless to say, Virgil was terrified to see what Patton would say after learning about last night. 

After waking up that morning, he had just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling silently contemplating whether or not hiding under the bed was a good idea as Roman continued to sleep in the bed beside him. And when Roman woke up around an hour later, he was still laying there. 

-------

Roman yawned and stretched his arms as he woke up. Sunlight streamed in through a gap in the curtain. He sat there for a few moments after waking up. The bed was absolutely unbelievable! He had never slept so good! It was so soft and supported his body in a way his old bed never could. If he had had any doubts about living in the future, they were long gone now. Then again, how could anyone have any doubts about the future if there was such a gorgeous man as Virgil to help him adjust to the new century. Speaking of Virgil….

Roman turned to look at the bed beside him to find Virgil already awake. "Virgil!" Roman exclaimed, voice bright as he smiled at the other. "Good morning!" 

Virgil did not move. Instead he continued to stare at the ceiling. "How can it be a good morning? Patton is going to kill me when he finds out about last night." 

Roman's smile twisted into a confused frown. "Patton? Who's Patton?" 

Virgil sighed. "Patton is Logan's husband and resident Dad. Once he finds out I went off on my own AND got hurt, he's probably going to look at me disappointedly and I can not deal with that right now." He pushed himself up only to hiss as pain shot up his ankle. 

Roman's eyebrows shot up into his styled bangs and he quickly hopped out of his bed, rushing to Virgil's side. 

"Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?" 

You could carry me to the kitchen, Virgil's mind unhelpfully supplied. He shook his head. No, that is not happening. Pull yourself together, Virgil. "No, I got it." He grimaced as he pushed himself up onto his hands to slide his legs over the side of the bed. Roman watched on anxiously, his hands hovering in the air between them as if awaiting the chance to help the emo. Virgil looked down at his ankle and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That doesn't look good." 

Roman followed the others gaze down to his ankle and winced in sympathy. Virgil's ankle had swollen up again through the night turning it a nice shade of red as a purple bruise stretched across the skin covering the ankle bone. "Are you sure you don't need any help," Roman asked once again. "That looks pretty bad." 

"No, I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks." Virgil bit his lip and stood up to prove his point...only to yelp loudly as the pressure caused a strong jolt of pain to shoot up his leg. 

"Yeah, I think you should let me help you." Virgil opened his mouth to argue only to freeze. Roman frowned as he heard thumping. "What was that?" The sound quickly became increasingly louder. 

"Oh shi-" 

"Virgil!!!!! Are you okay?!?!?" The door burst open and a man stood there in dark brown pants with an abundance of pockets, a light blue, loose, cotton shirt and round glasses framing warm hazel eyes. The man's face was scrunched up in worry  as their eyes bounced around the room for any immediate signs of danger. Then they landed on Virgil and Roman. The two men remained frozen as the man panted from his run up two flights of stairs. He glanced between the two before his eyes narrowed in on Roman. "Virgil, who is this?" Asked Patton. 

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[ratmonky]

Frostbite

This is just me testing the waters. 

I haven’t posted any horror porn since 2017/8 when I had a fascination with a very specific fictional character and got backlash for it lmao

Anyway, I might come back and edit this because I kinda rushed it since ya know, it was THAT episode T^T

PS: would ya be mad if I said this was the 1K celebration fic? be honest

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: guro, non-con, decay, dismemberment, just horropron lmao

How long had it been since he had actually touched another human being with a pulse?

Shigaraki didn’t know.

You weren’t moving but you were alive. Your pulse was so weak, he had almost thought that he had killed you.

Shigaraki tilted his head to the side and reached his hand to touch your cheek. You didn’t move, instead, you watched as he ran his bony fingers across your cheek.

It was cold and it felt oddly weird to touch someone so cold, almost frigid. No- you were colder than a corpse, he knew how it felt to touch a corpse, he knew how cold a dead body could get.

“This is interesting,” Shigaraki sighed and retrieved his hand. “I had thought you would give up sooner.”

How long has it been? He momentarily paused to try to remember how long you had been at it. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had run up to you but it had been a while.

You thought you would have given up sooner too. But you desperately wanted to live. Even if it was only for a couple of minutes longer. Your body wouldn’t stop trembling, it was freezing cold. You had only one chance, you hoped that you were doing the right choice in using your quirk this way.

Tonight was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. Your boyfriend had just proposed to you but the ring he had put on your finger was right under your naked body, along with a pile of dust that was supposed to be your hand. At least it was, only a couple of minutes ago-

If only you had taken your fiance’s offer to drive you home, you wouldn’t be in this dark alley, fighting for your life in the worst way possible. If only you hadn’t followed the sound of crying into this dark alley. Then you wouldn’t have seen him killing that woman, perhaps if you had stayed quiet instead of screaming, you could have left without him noticing.

There were many ‘ifs’ because all of this was preventable.

“Ice slows down decay.” He pouted as he spread your legs wider, crawling closer to you. You couldn’t move, if you moved a finger your Quirk would deactivate and result in your death. The thin ice you produced could only cover your skin, keeping you barely alive. It could break only if you moved.

That’s why Shigaraki was sure there was no way you would live, he had already touched you and the decay was still spreading… just slower than it usually would. “You know,” Shigaraki let out a sharp gasp to the sensation of your freezing cold folds as he massaged them with the tip of his cock. “If you can hold on for a while longer, I’ll cut your arm. Decay will stop and you’ll live.”

You didn’t need to endure this. You didn’t want to endure this.

But you still couldn’t bring yourself to deactivate your Quirk.

Death was scary. Death meant many things; emptiness, darkness, and eternity. You were afraid of them all.

You looked at Shigaraki with tears sliding out of your eyes, begging for his mercy.

Shigaraki smirked at your reaction. Then he pulled at the tender skin of your folds just enough to expose your soaking wet entrance to his hungry eyes. You closed your eyes, wishing to be somewhere else, anywhere would be fine. Just a couple of hours ago you were talking to your now fiance about going on a vacation to the Bahamas and now you were laying butt naked in front of the most wanted criminal in the whole country.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m a man of my word. Just hold on for a minute longer, ‘kay?” Shigaraki slid inside of your pussy with a juicy plop.

You winced but made sure to not move.

Do not move.

Do not fucking move.

He shivered and let out a breathy laugh. He had already pushed himself balls deep into your cunt. He was so big, filling you up to the brim so nicely. “You’re so warm on the inside.” Your walls pulsated around him, you couldn’t help but trying to hug onto the warmth his cock provided inside of you. “I’ve never done this with someone-”

You wanted to pretend to not hear what he said next. However, it kept echoing within your mind. Wordlessly, you glanced up at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes. You desperately wanted this nightmare to end.

I’ve never done this with someone alive.

Someone alive-

A sob tore out of you, it almost felt like you were merely seconds away from having a panic attack as he began to thrust in and out of you, squelching sounds filling your ears.

You closed your eyes shut to imagine anyone but Tomura Shigaraki on top of you. This was all just a bad nightmare, before long you would wake up in your bedroom because there was no way you could be this unlucky, right?

Nope.

This was all real.

He could do whatever he wanted with you and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. All you could do was to ignore him moving inside of you and avoid moving yourself to stay alive.

The decay had already reached to your elbow, it wouldn’t be long until your entire arm crumbled into dust.

Shigaraki grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. He wanted to get a reaction out of you. There has to be something that you absolutely didn’t want him to do. Something that would make your stomach churn and break your concentration on keeping your Quirk active.

Shigaraki liked overpowering by manhandling gullible rich girls like you. But-

“It’s no fun when yer laying there like a corpse.”

He was desperate to have you fight back. He had seen the ring on your finger, you had a boyfriend. You also looked like you were coming from a rich family or perhaps it was just your boyfriend’s money. Come on now, the infamous Tomura Shigaraki was fucking your tight little cunt, it had to be humiliating for a girl like you.  

He needed you to scream and beg for help. Try to scratch at his face each time he thrust inside of you as he ravished you both mentally and physically.

Shigaraki groaned in frustration and looked down at you.

It was dead silent in the alley except for the squelching sounds coming from your cunt when Shigaraki thrust in and out of it.

Quiet.

Crunch-

The disgusting sound first echoed in the dark alley and then within your mind.

Before you could even register what was happening the pain took over your body, you kept shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes followed Shigaraki’s and you wished you hadn’t looked at what he was looking.

A startled gurgle forced its way up to your throat but you somehow managed to scream in agony, your arm was aching and sizzling in pain.

He eerily smiled at that.

Your arm was chopped off. You watched the amputated arm of yours crumble apart and rot within only a second.

Shigaraki’s thrusts became stronger and more animalistic each time you screamed or whimpered. He was muttering to himself under his breath but you couldn’t hear anything, your ears were ringing. You felt your head swim and everything started to spin.

A loud sob left your lips and tears slid out of your eyes. You tried to breathe but each time you inhaled air, it felt like it didn’t reach your lungs. You were soon hyperventilating, silently screaming in pain.

“Oh, that’s what I wanna see,” Shigaraki put the blood-covered knife aside, hips started roughly slamming into yours with renewed excitement. It made your breath hitch. Was he getting off to this?

“You look so fucking good,” he breathed and wrapped his hand around your throat. He let out a low hiss as your walls tightened around his cock. “Yer getting warmer.”

It was true.

Your Quirk had been deactivated the second you saw your amputated arm, the shock was too much for you to keep your Quirk stably active. On the bright side, you were still alive, the decaying had stopped, Shigaraki had kept his promise.

You were alive and that was all that mattered.

Shigaraki pushed inside of you for the last time, spilling his entire load inside of your unprotected cunt.

It was warm. Your body felt heavy and finally relaxed. The pain was still present but everything started to blur. You were slowly fading into oblivion but you still managed to make out the bright light as the camera flash on Shigaraki’s phone.

[offtopicoverload]

The Forever Breakup

@bubblybabynailpolish 's post on Talia & Jake's friendship hcs got stuck in my head so I wrote a quick one-shot about Jake comforting Talia and MC if they broke up.

~3000 words

“We broke up!” Talia chokes through sobs, her eyes unleashing a waterfall of tears and mascara flowing in watery streams as she does.

Jake stands shell-shocked; a situation he was not prepared for - or even expected to encounter - has shown up at his door, pounding incessantly until he flung it open to find a distraught Talia on the other side.

Without hesitation, he pulls her inside, letting the door fall shut behind them and guides her to the sofa, where she collapses atop it. She wipes at her eyes hurriedly, but it does nothing to stop the onslaught of tears cascading down her cheeks. Jake drops beside her, pulling her into his embrace and soothingly rubbing her back.

She cries into his shoulder for what feels like an eternity to Jake, one that he never wants to experience again, until she quiets enough for Jake to ask the all-important question: “What happened?”

The sobs course through her body again, “I don’t know!” she croaks, trembling in her skin. That’s when Jake takes notice of her clothes: A loose-fitting tank top and shorts even though it’s dark, below freezing, and the middle of January. He detangles himself from her, much to her chagrin, and gathers a thick blanket from across the living room.

He takes a detour into the kitchen, grabbing bottles of water and chocolate biscuits to try and cheer her up when she’s feeling better. He sets them down on the coffee table when he returns, draping the blanket around her shoulders after.

He starts towards the thermostat to turn the heat up and warm her quicker, but her hand delicately grasps at his, drawing his attention down to her. He opens his mouth to explain himself when Talia whispers, her voice already hoarse and strained, “Can you stay? Please?”

Jake does what he’s asked out of concern, love, and fear for his best friend. Talia doesn’t ask him nicely, she doesn’t say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ to him. They’re not formal or polite, they tease each other mercilessly and couldn’t care less about playing nice. But the plea in her voice triggered alarm bells in Jake’s mind, so he does as requested.

She shifts closer, nearly on top of his lap, curling up against him with her head on his chest and the blanket pulled tight around her. Jake doesn’t ask any questions, just combs his fingers through her hair in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

Talia spends what feels like hours shaking and crying under the blanket, Jake’s arms holding her tight until sleep eventually steals her, her shoulders relaxing and sobs quieting. Jake stays with her for a while longer, careful not to disrupt her.

When he’s confident she’s fast asleep, he slowly pulls away, letting her sink into his sofa cushions with a whimper. Jake stands, staring down at her with a broken heart; his best friend has shattered in front of him, and he has no idea how to fix her.

Then the rage starts to boil under his skin, lighting a fire inside him that he can’t extinguish. He grabs his jacket from beside the front door, carefully and quietly pulling the door open and closed before determinedly exiting the building. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocks his car, and starts driving in the direction of Talia and Lilac’s building, intent on getting answers and intent on seeing Lilac for who she really is, cruel and stupid for hurting Talia.

---

Jake stands outside Lilac and Talia’s - Lilac’s - flat, fist poised to knock on the door. He takes a few deep breaths, anger still simmering inside of him but lessened from the wildfire it was a short while ago. He raps his knuckles against the wood, jamming his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting or doing something stupid.

Lilac opens the door with red eyes and tear stains on her cheeks, “Um, hi,” she greets half-heartedly, Jake’s resolve crumbling in an instant.

He starts shifting awkwardly on his feet, transferring his weight from foot to foot and pulling his hands from his pockets to wring them before him. “So I heard, er - Talia -” he cuts himself off at the expression of pure pain on Lilac’s face.

Her gaze drops to the ground and her hand holding the door starts gripping it for dear life, her knuckles turning white. “Can we please not do this?” she sounds just as desperate as Talia did, and Jake swears he can hear his heart crack in his chest.

He takes a step closer, reaching to place a hand on Lilac’s shoulder, hoping to steady the slightly swaying woman. But she flinches away from his touch and he lets his hand fall back to his side. His brow furrows in confusion before he asks, “Do what?”

Lilac sniffles, a few tears threatening to spill from eyes from what Jake can tell with her head down, but she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “The protective big brother thing. I know you just want to help Tals, but now is really not the time.”

He stands still for a moment, sorting through her words carefully. Then he reaches out again, his large hand carefully prying her smaller one from the door, and nudges her inside the flat.

She’s resistant, not moving unless Jake directly guides her, but she enters all the same. They stand beside the closed door for a moment, the silence deafening in Jake’s ears, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask if she’s okay, her shaking hands saying otherwise.

Her hair curtains around her face, preventing Jake from seeing any expression but the haunted and heartbroken one from a few instants ago. Though he doubts there’s much more she’s feeling right now.

Jake glances around the room, finding an uncharacteristic mess. There’s crumpled tissues on the kitchen bar and sofa, a bottle of vodka on the coffee table and whiskey on the kitchen counter. A pile of blankets in the corner has been knocked over, crocheted blankets spread across the living room in heaps, and shattered glass gleams in the hallway.

“Why are you here? You gonna kick my arse for Tals?” Lilac’s jokes, drawing Jake’s gaze. Only there’s no humour, not to Jake at least. Not when there’s shards in the hall and bandaids on her hands and feet.

Jake swallows the lump in his throat at the state of Lilac and Talia, of their flat, of their relationship. “No,” he answers calmly. “Well… maybe that’s why I came. But now I’m worried.” He takes a step closer. Lilac shifts her weight. “What happened?” He takes another step. Lilac slumps at the question and crosses her arms protectively. One more step. Lilac runs her hands up and down her arms. “Talia couldn’t tell me.” One last step, just as Lilac’s shoulders begin to tremble.

Jake pulls her into his arms, letting her sob silently against him in a manner all too familiar, yet simultaneously brand new. He rubs her back until her knees buckle from under her, then he gently lowers her to the ground, her hands grasping at his jacket as tears soak the fabric. “What happened?” he repeats the question for the third time tonight.

Lilac’s shoulders stop heaving as they were, but still shake as she draws in uneven and difficult breaths. “We - we fought. About my family.” Jake grimaces, the small pieces he’s heard from the couple about Lilac’s childhood not triggering a positive reaction. “And I -” her voice cracks and she gasps, no longer able to form any words.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake shushes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s personal, I get it,” he continues rubbing her back and offering more reassuring noises and sentiments.

“I said she wasn’t my family if they weren’t,” Lilac whispers the words into Jake’s jacket, her voice uneasy but somehow even, regardless of all the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just angry but I still did. And then she said that if she’s not my family then they sure as hell aren’t. And she’s probably right, it’s just hard. But then - then I told her she doesn’t know me or my life, she has no say. I acted like she’s not my life, Jake,” her voice is desperate again, her hands fisting in his coat.

“She is, she so is. She’s everything and she was just trying to help and I wouldn’t let her, but then she said she might as well leave and I said okay fine, even though I didn’t want her to, and then she left and I didn’t stop her, why didn’t I stop her?” she gasps, her breath hitching as she tries to catch it. “And I can’t fix it and now she’s gone and oh my God,” she heaves in a breath after her rambling with a splintered voice, tears trailing down her face again as she stares at Jake’s shirt.

Then her eyes fly up to his, meeting them for what feels like the first time tonight, “Is she okay?!” she grabs his forearms, tugging him forward and staring into his eyes desperately, searching for something.

He nods quickly, “She’s fine, she’s at my flat,” he rushes. Lilac lets go immediately, falling back to sit on her heels. “Well, she’s not okay but she’s safe. She was asleep when I left.” Lilac nods stiffly, her hands clenching at his words.

Jake sees a bandage on her hand and carefully reaches out, eager for a change in topic. He has a hard time with heartbreak, but cuts and bruises he can handle, “What happened to your hands?”

Lilac shakes her head, slowly pulling her hand back to herself, “I just - broke a glass. I’m fine,” she answers quietly.

“How’d you break it?” he asks, just as quiet, and lets his hand land on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“I threw it.” Her body’s still, voice hesitant while her eyes dig into her lap.

Jake’s taken aback by the answer, but does his best not to show his surprise at her admission to a violent outburst, “Why’d you throw it?”

“She left,” Lilac whispers, her only response for a long moment.

Then she swallows harshly, “I was drinking but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t stop and I hate myself and I was so mad and I threw it. And it hit the wall and it shattered, and I felt bad. She liked that glass and I broke it because I suck. So I tried to pick it up but I couldn’t find the broom because she always moves it ‘cause I knock it over, so I tried to use my hands but then it cut me and I kept stepping on it and I gave up and just drank some more. And it wasn’t enough, but I didn’t want to break any more of her glasses.”

Jake nods along, carefully reaching out and taking hold of her hand. He inspects her for any unbandaged cuts, and, when none are found, squeezes her hand, “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

She shakes her head, “Not anymore.”

He nods cautiously, glancing back around the room. He can still see the light bouncing off the shards scattered across the room, but most of the mess is out of his line of sight. He releases her hand and stands, gently patting her head as he passes.

He makes his way to the closet at the opening of a separate hallway, pulling it open to find a broom and dustpan inside. He’s seen Talia shove it in there countless times, always muttering about Lilac forgetting where it goes. He pulls it out and shuts the door, turning to the splintered glass on the hardwood. He meticulously sweeps it up, careful to get every last sparkling fragment.

When he’s done he walks to the kitchen, dumping the glass in the bin before returning the broom to the closet. Then he carefully scoops the tissues from the counter into the bin, repeating the exercise in the living room, too. He places the bottles of alcohol next to the others by the fridge, screwing the caps on tight. He tugs the fridge door open in search of water, finding a few bottles in the door.

His careful footsteps lead him back to a slumped Lilac that hasn’t moved since he left her, hands gripping one another tightly as she stares at the dark wood beneath her with dull eyes. He sits beside her, folding his legs in front of him, and offers an open bottle.

She only takes it when he prys her fingers apart and wraps them around it. She takes careful sips, never once meeting Jake’s concerned gaze, and he’s almost grateful for it. Almost grateful that he doesn’t have to see any more pain tonight.

His fingers start to skate along her spine, “Feeling any better?”

She laughs a horrid, broken, crumbling laugh, “No. No, I’m not, Jake, and I don’t -” her voice cracks before returning, barely audible, “I don’t know if I ever will at this point.”

He stops his skating, “Why not?”

“I broke it and I can’t fix it,” she sniffles.

“You can buy another glass,” he suggests hesitantly.

She chuckles that heart-shattering chuckle again, “I didn’t mean the glass. I meant us. I can’t go back, that’s forever.”

“Right,” he mumbles sheepishly. “Maybe you can though?” he tries an optimistic outlook, one that Lilac isn’t a fan of.

“No. She left because I made her. That makes it real and permanent and forever. It’s a Forever Breakup, Jake.”

Jake asks the dumbest question he can think of before he can even stop himself, “Do you want it to be forever?”

“Of course not,” she spits. “Of course not,” she repeats, more controlled now, “But I can’t fix it; she left.”

Jake leans into the optimism, the romantic inside of him getting the better of him, “Maybe if you try right now? Sooner rather than later, you know?”

There’s that crushing tremble of vocal cords again, but no words follow. Lilac just shrugs, defeated and hopeless, taking a chug from the water bottle she’s been slowly tracing with a nail.

A buzzing sounds from the kitchen, recognized by Jake as his own ringtone. He stumbles to his feet, rushing over to grab his phone from the counter. Talia’s contact is on display, the vibrations nearly sending the device crashing to the ground.

He answers, cautiously stepping into the far hallway and towards the washroom, “Hello?” he almost whispers.

“Where are you?” Talia’s voice sounds panicked, her breathing quick.

“I, um, I’m sorry, I came to your flat. I’m with Lilac.” Jake fidgets with his jacket’s zipper, nerves starting to overwhelm him.

“Oh.” The other line is quiet for a while, only staggered breathing flowing from the speaker. “Is - is she okay?”

Jake lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “Not really, honestly. She broke a glass you liked and I think she feels really bad about.”

“Okay.” She’s reflective, voice turning distant. “Just a glass?”

“Yeah,” Jake confirms. Then he pauses, brow furrowing, “Does she usually break stuff?”

“No. Well, kinda. She dropped a mirror on accident once. A mug, too, but she got really worked up about it.”

Jake can't help the smile from splitting his lips at the ease of Talia’s voice, her typical attitude falling back into place. “Was it your mug?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Talia asks warily.

Jake grins wider, “No reason,” he attempts to breeze past it, maybe annoy her along the way.

“Whatever,” Talia huffs.

Jake chuckles a little, glancing back to Lilac, finding her legs now stretched before her as she leans forward, head still drooped. Jake’s laughter falls away at the sight.

He takes a deep breath before proposing a thought that’s rattled around his head since he found the flat in chaos, “Maybe you guys should talk. Work through things sooner than later?” he repeats that phrase again, hoping Talia might accept it more than Lilac.

“You think we could?” Talia’s cautiously hopeful on the other end of the line, a clattering sound that Jake can only hope isn’t the destruction of one of his own glasses.

“Yeah,” Jake answers softly, “I mean, I believe in you guys. One argument doesn’t have to wreck everything.”

Talia goes quiet again, leaving Jake to shift nervously. He hasn’t forgotten Lilac’s insistence that they’re over or Talia’s unabashed heartbreak, but he tries to push past the anxiety slowly flooding his chest, determined to fix this and prove they’re not as fragile as a glass. A sigh heaves in Jake’s ear, “Fine. I’ll come over, but you better stay. I need a place to crash if this doesn’t work.”

Jake smiles softly, “Deal. But only in the car. This is your business and I’m not getting any more involved,” he warns.

“Yeah, okay,” Talia concedes, the sound of keys jingling and a door shutting stretching Jake’s smile wider, his eyes glancing back to Lilac once more, this time finding her leaning against the kitchen counter.

---

A knock echoes through the flat. Lilac’s eyes fly up in a panic from the kitchen, finding Jake’s calm ones already staring back from the living room. He gives her a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

Jake’s only taken a few steps towards the door when it slowly opens, Talia stepping in the room with her hair now tied back and one of Jake’s jackets - a leather one she bought him, actually - falling from her shoulders. She shuffles inside, keeping her eyes on Jake to avoid the grey ones staring in shock at her profile.

Jake smiles reassuringly at her too, carefully but quickly making his way to the door. He pats Talia’s shoulder as he steps outside and closes the door behind him. But he’s slow enough to hear a nervous ‘hi’ and a watery ‘hey.’

He walks out of the building and uses the flashlight on his phone to find his car, unlocking it with the click of his keys. Slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh, he lets his head fall back to the headrest. His eyelids start to feel heavy, being awake in the late hours of the night a rare occasion for him.

His phone buzzes, jolting him awake. He scrambles to find it, pulling it from his jacket pocket and finding a large 2:43 on his lock screen. A text notification is just below it, with Talia’s name at the top.

He smiles down at the screen, sticking his key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. He navigates back to his own flat in low light from street lamps, watching the few people still awake go about their late nights and early mornings.

When Jake slumps into his bed, yanking the covers up to his chin with a contented sigh a half hour later, he can’t help but smile at the two words that had greeted him on his phone screen, relishing in the abolishment of The Forever Breakup: ‘we’re okay.’

[tremble-in-the-hips]

All right, you asked for it. A fucking Picture of Dorian Gray fanfiction I wrote in high school. Pine away, gays.

Dorian’s leg bobbed furiously. The cigarette between his fingers smoldered to an ashen stub. On his velvet purple couch, he stretched out, perplexed by the painting strung above the fireplace. He shuddered as his own oil-glazed eyes peered at him. 

They weren’t really his eyes, he thought. The eyes belonged to Basil, whose skilled hands opened the window into Dorian’s soul, now sitting on the mantle. Dorian felt Basil’s presence in the canvas. His hands, cramping around a paint brush; his one eye open as he perfected his vision; his dark hair falling in clumps in front of his eyes. The concentration and adoration Basil put into creating the image was powerful. As he stubbed out his cigarette with a flick, Dorian felt the artist’s careful scrutiny staring back at him as he sat. He rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle as he thought of being in Basil’s studio just that afternoon. 

“Don’t listen to Harry,” Basil had warned. They were standing, a breath apart in the waning sunlight. Anxiously, Basil dug beneath his fingernails with a pencil to dislodge layers of crusting paint. 

Dorian had scoffed as he straightened his cuffs. “Basil, I’m beginning to see a pattern,” he chuckled. “For someone you trust, you condemn Harry rather harshly, don’t you think?”

Basil smiled politely. Dorian’s smile unraveled. “What,” he cried, “have I said something amiss?”

Basil met Dorian’s eye and laughed as he clasped his rough hands around one of Dorian’s. “No, never, my dearest,” Basil cooed, “I only wondered when I claimed to trust Harry.”

Dorian bent towards Basil. Concerned, he whispered, “You doubt his loyalty to you? Your friendship?”

Basil shook his head with a grin and laid a firm hand on Dorain’s shoulder. Head bowed, he turned back towards the painting on the opposite wall. “That, I don’t doubt,” Basil proclaimed, “ours is a friendship more like a commitment than marriage. We’ve seen too much together, know too much about each other. He will take my secrets to the grave with his cynicism and darkness which he so loves to spread,” he muttered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

Dorian eyed Basil playfully. “So, your lack of trust stems purely from experience? One too many nights of debauchery spent face down in a ditch due to one nefarious Henry Wotton?” Dorian stepped forward and took up all of Basil’s view. “Too many secrets falling out of his pockets?”

Basil chuckled and pushed Dorian away. Dorian giggled and shoved him back. The two poked and pulled on one another until Basil brought his hands over Dorian’s cheeks and held him back, both of them laughing raucously. (Seated on his couch, Dorian grinned at the thought.) Basil sighed and the air was calm. “Maybe,” he replied simply. 

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulders and shook him once. “My God, Harry dares to decry marriage when he is married to you!”

Basil leaned heavily on Dorian’s shoulder, guffawing as his knees gave out. Wiping joyful tears from his eyes, Basil sighed, “Oh, but only Harry would believe a friendship akin to marriage worth cherishing and the only truly good purpose for marriage besides politics.” Basil stood up straight, eyeing Dorian from beneath his curtain of hair. “More than anything, the man is quick to decry romance.”

“Ironic, for a man with cynically romantic notions,” Dorian cried with a laugh. He looked adoringly at Basil. “What would he think of a friendship akin to romance?”

Basil bit his lip, eyes wandering absently to his left. He scoffed, “More than likely shaking his grim head at us.”

Dorian huffed, emerging from his revere startled and breathless. Friendship akin to romance, he thought, what a delightful delusion. He could hear Henry Wotton’s voice repeat such a sentiment in his head. He shuddered. He sometimes did find Harry outrageously grim, even when he followed Harry with a childlike curiosity and adoration. As embarrassed as he was, he found himself smitten with the lord; Wotton was handsome and charming and enticingly treacherous. Whatever Wotton said felt like honey, despite later burning like vinegar. 

Basil’s warning had shaken him. Dorian paused, considering how the night was to proceed. His party, which was to include Basil and Dorian, were to head to the theater after the club and witness one of Sybil’s first performances after their proposal. He was torn, intrigued and terrified by Harry’s promise of disappointment from Sybil’s love. Part of him wanted to continue heedless, so infatuated was he with Sybil; yet he felt hesitant, and chanced leaving Sybil if he got scared. 

It felt real, his love for Sybil. More real than even Harry’s cynicism could penetrate. 

Could there be a potential for failure in a feeling so strong? If only he could explain it to Harry! He paced the living room, drawing up articulate analogies. His satisfaction with Sybil was as permanent as the spring bloom, as lingering as a smoke cloud from a pipe, as tender as Basil’s affectionate brush stroke. 

Dorian skidded to a halt in the doorway, hand clutching his chest. Why do I still think of Basil? he thought. He flopped into a lounge chair, groaning. One of his servants came to him, mumbling about the arrival of Harry and Basil (did his heartbeat quicken?) to take him to the club, then the theater. His heart thumped as he plucked a flower from a vase on the counter and twisted the stem clean off. He pocketed the newly fashioned corsage. A beautiful tiger lily, muted orange with maroon spots. 

. . . 

His corsage lay crumbled in his hand. His entire body felt heavy, as if sinking into the earth. The theater box, already half empty since the second act, felt cold and bitter. 

Henry put it best. “Terrible,” he stated factually, “just terrible. Ah well - flames burn out. Such is life, such is theater.”

“This isn’t right,” Dorian gasped, barely looking up from the flower in his hand. He studied the creases in the petals. He attempted to smooth them out with his thumb, growing annoyed when the petals curled around his fingers. He huffed, “she must be ill, or upset, or possibly inebriated, or-”

“Oh dear, sweet Dorian,” Henry sighed, laying a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian barely looked up. “We both know those possibilities aren’t true,” Henry crooned. With a sniff, he looked toward the stage exit. “You’ve got to hand it to her thought,” he sighed, “she loves you. It’s clear in her face, the way she looked out into the audience, the way she breathed. That’s love. But it’s normal love, average - and acted love will always be more potent. Or at least it will present better on stage -”

“Where’s Basil?” Dorian cut in, shrugging off Henry’s hand with an irked groan. 

“Home by now,” Henry relayed in a monotone, “he left partway through the curtain call, had to attend to a friend or a casserole or his own melancholy or something.” Dorian heard the click of a pocket watch opening. “Well,” cried Harry conspicuously, “your Juliet has more than likely returned to her dressing room now. I suggest you have a chat with her.”

Dorian grit his teeth, prickling against his clothes and skin. His annoyance felt like bile rising in his throat and he felt like spitting. Suddenly he was up, throwing the corsage against the floor. Through the unsettled curls of his hair, Dorian saw Henry step back with wide eyes and a smile.  

“Dorian, love, what’s got you flying like this?” he questioned playfully.

Dorian huffed and crossed his arms. He felt inflamed, like a deceived child. Was this the product of love? A loss of sense, a loss of purpose? Sybil was supposed to be Dorian’s greatest prize, the person for him to be proud of forever. When she flitted across the stage, he wanted nothing more than to claim the moment, claim her, with a fiery passion. She was something to behold (in her prime, Dorian thought bitterly, which seems to have ended) and she was something he wanted to behold constantly. 

Dorian flew, a trail of orange tiger lily petals falling at his boots. He felt confident in his ability to tell her just how he felt and nervous of her reaction. But he was angry! Truly angry! To watch her perform on any other night was to watch the gods of grace and whimsy in flight. What would become of the world, his world, without her gift, his pride? For her to fail or give up performance would be like if Basil put down his brush. 

Dorian hovered hesitantly in front of Sybil’s dressing room. He could feel his heart clattering against his breastplate. He reached for the doorknob and felt his ill intentions bubbling in his throat. She’s a charlatan, Dorian thought wickedly, and I am a willing sucker to her ruse. She embarrassed me in front of my friends! She doesn’t deserve my advances, my praise. What a failure! I’ll see to it she realizes the shame, the embarrassment. I mean, what would Basil think - 

Dorian’s hand shook violently as he grasped the doorknob. His breath escaped in sharp gasps. His grip loosened. To his left, he peered through a window and a vision formed of his own living room through the darkness. In the projection, he saw Basil smoothing the ruffles in Dorian’s jacket. His face was splattered with paint and a playful smile pulled his lips. 

“You really are a wonder, Dorian,” Basil’s voice echoed. Dorian’s mirror image blushed. “So youthful, yet so open; so beautiful, yet so kind.” The vision of Basil looked away from the vision of Dorian and stared, knowingly, at Dorian in real life. Terror gripped Dorian and shame overcame him as the vision smiled at him, concern in his eyes and a slight, adoring tilt in his head. The vision whispered, “I can always trust you to handle important things with care and thoughtfulness. It’s what I like best about you.”

Dorian let go of the doorknob and stared at it pointedly. His face twisted and released. What was my plan? he thought. What would I have accomplished with such anger?

The door creaked open and Sybil’s heart-shaped face appeared like a moon over the horizon. She beamed. “Oh, love!” she yelped and pushed the door open.

Dorian looked forward and straightened his back. He swept his hair back and gave Sybil a polite smile. “My dearest,” he muttered shyly. 

“I was hoping I had seen you on the balcony,” Sybil squealed with delight. She stepped into the door frame and swept her hand over the room. “Will you join me, good prince?”

Dorian met her eyes and sighed, feeling light and giddy. Despite the embarrassment, his physical feelings for her were strong. Sybil held her hand out for Dorian to take. Before he reached out, he thought of Basil’s unruly dark hair and affectionate smile.

The right thing? Dorian questioned fearfully. He took Sybil’s hand delicately and kissed her fingers. “I would, darling,” Dorian chuckled, “but I must attend to personal matters.”

Sybil recoiled slightly, but soon returned a polite smile. “Oh, that’s fine. Before you go, I was wondering what you thought of my -”

“You were lovely,” Dorian cried, “and I will explain away my hastiness later!” He leaned forward and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. Once he was out the door, he began sprinting down the street. 

. . . 

Basil’s door flew open and he laughed with surprise and delight before pulling Dorian into his embrace. “I’m more than shocked,” Basil cried, “you came back for me! The night is alive with clubs and youthful spirit and you come to these unlit suburbs.” Basil sighed and leaned against the doorway to his living room with a jaunty grin. “Of course, the night’s youth allowed you to deduce that I had returned home.” Basil raised the wine glass he had been holding in respect. “You know me too well,” he chuckled. 

Dorian giggled, “have you been drinking, Basil?”

Basil bit his lip against a smile and moved the glass behind his back. “Who’s to say,” he deflected, barely containing his laughter.

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulder with a grin. “It’s no matter anyway. May I?” Dorian inquired, pointing lazily at Basil’s glass.

Basil shrugged and handed his glass to Dorian. “Why not? Here, have a head start.”

Dorian blushed, touched by the gesture. He took Basil’s glass, raised it to him, and took a sip. It felt like stinging, sweet ginger as it ran down his throat. 

Basil poured another glass in the corner of the room. He eyed Dorian kindly. “I’m terribly ashamed of my behavior tonight,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for leaving the theater without so much as a goodbye. Sybil’s performance was important to you.”

“Whatever you are sorry for, you are forgiven, believe me,” Dorian assured, “I was only worried for your well being.”

Basil looked away, smiling to himself. “Thank you,” he whispered, “though, you could have called. You didn’t. You ran here. I’m curious as to what compelled you to do so.”

Dorian laughed. “I’m curious as to why you fled when you claimed you were eager to join us!”

Basil shrugged with an innocent smile, his lips touching his cup. Chuckling, he said, “I’m still not sure. I thought myself a bore on such a joyous night. Shakespeare often depresses me.”

Dorian nodded attentively, sipping at his drink. “I believe that is his point actually,” he wondered. “The dramas are meant to strike a chord with our humanity, to tell a story of unrequited or unfulfilled romance.”

Basil scoffed, staring into his swirling glass. He met Dorian’s eyes tenderly, sighing, “My dear, often it is the romance that depresses me.”

Dorian turned his head, brow furrowed, and Basil laughed, “it is nonsensical to anyone but me. I find myself incompatible with romance. I don’t hold onto relationships. I am quick to turn inward, quick to anger, and unable to respond to a lover’s cry for attention.” Basil huffed with eyes downcast. “Lovely, lovely Dorian, I am impossible to love.”

The room stood quiet. After a moment of discomfort in silence, Dorian sat on Basil’s dark green couch and beckoned to Basil. Basil shuffled over with tepid steps and flopped into the seat next to Dorian. Dorian turned his shoulders towards Basil and took his hands. He turned them over, lightly drawing on Basil’s palms with his thumbs. He whispered to Basil, “I left the theater tonight after the show because I was inspired by the idea of what you’d think of my actions.”

Basil leaned back against the arm of the sofa, surprise alight in his eyes. His lips drew taut as he tried to suppress a smile. “Go on,” he whispered.

Dorian cleared his throat. His palms were sweating and he cupped them lightly around Basil’s, trying not to dampen them. “I was inflamed,” he continued, “both by Henry’s words and the events at the theater. I felt mean like a snake, wanting to lash out.” Dorian chuckled darkly. “I thought myself deserving better. I thought of telling Sybil so, harshly if need be.”

Basil stared at Dorian with concern. He looked down, grasping at empty words. “I’m . . . sorry to hear you were in such a state, possessed by evil like that.” He clasped Dorian’s hands gently. “I am, however, proud and delighted that you thought of me and made a better choice.”

Dorian averted his gaze, beaming. “It seems I think of little but you lately, Basil.”

Basil blushed deep red and his face lit up with a delirious smile. Dorian hopped closer, encouraged by Basil’s response. He took a shaking breath, continuing, “Basil, whatever compels you to believe you are impossible to love, it is a false pretense; you create beauty out of nothing; you adore your friends with great and genuine enthusiasm; you corale me towards the right path,” Dorian declared. Running a hand through his flyaway hairs, he leant towards Basil with a serious look. “Despite my influences, you get me to see what is right and good with only the thought of your care, your kindness, and your love for me.”

Dorian let out a final breath. Basil’s eyes were locked with his, shining with earnest and insane happiness. His head rested relaxed to his left and he rubbed Dorian’s hands between his fingers. Dorian’s heart quickened and he looked away, clearing his throat again. Timid, he looked into Basil’s eyes. He whispered, “Who are you to say you are immune to romance? What about us? Fools in a friendship akin to romance?”

Breathless, Basil reached out, cupping Dorian’s face gingerly in his hands. Dorian lightly traced his fingers over the back of Basil’s hands. Basil shook his head in disbelief. He rubbed his thumb along Dorian’s cheekbone. “I,” he stuttered, “I, you, you’ve surprised, I’m . . .”

Dorian slid his hands down the length of Basil’s arms and dug his fingers into Basil’s shoulders. “Whatever you’re planning to do or say,” he breathed, “do it now. I despise suspense.”

Basil burst into laughter and Dorian joined. When both had caught their breath, Basil pulled Dorian towards him for a kiss. Dorian closed his eyes, sinking with relief as he wrapped his arms around Basil’s neck. Basil ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair and let his lips drag over Dorian’s sluggishly, intoxicated by the intimacy. Dorian pressed his forehead to Basil’s and Basil pulled back, gasping for breath. With a grin, Dorian nuzzled Basil’s nose, causing the two to giggle with childish giddiness. 

“Do you believe you’re wrong now?” Dorian cooed. “About being incompatible with romance?”

“Possibly,” Basil retorted, playing with one of Dorian’s curls. 

“I think you’ll do fine,” Dorian sighed, catching Basil’s eye and grinning. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a stem of lavender. Basil’s brows drew together in a question and Dorian explained, “I pulled it out of the vase at the theater..” Basil rolled his eyes and Dorian flicked his nose. “Enough,” he laughed, “I’m trying to perform an incredibly romantic gesture.”

Basil laughed heartily. “Okay,” he cried, “you’ve gotten me to believe in love again. Happy?”

Dorian beamed, “Always, with you.”

[tallycraven]

hi do you still do ficlets and can we get more of bellweather apartmates 🥺

But of course! Here you go! It’s also up on ao3 as a part of my collection of anon-requested/inspired ficlets. :) 

//

Waking up with the sun in her eyes is incredibly low on Raelle’s list of favorite-things-to-wake-up-to. Lower still, however, is waking up to the sound of loud clanging accompanied by muffled curse-grunts.

It’s early, she knows that by the position of the sun, shining perfectly through the slats of the blinds to burn her retinas from behind her eyelids. She lets out a small grunt of dissatisfaction and turns to bury her face into the pillows, finding a small respite in the dimness and cool fabric on this side of her bed.

The peace and wonderful haze of sleep beginning to blanket her again is shattered by another loud clang and audible, “fuck!” come from somewhere beyond her door.

Resigning herself to consciousness, she blinks open her eyes to see her alarm clock – a dull green 7:03 AM staring back at her – and resists the urge to break her own neck in an attempt to achieve more rest. Instead, she pushes her palms into her eyes, pressing with enough pressure to see spots in her vision when she finally drags her hands down her face and opens her eyes.

It’s then that she notices the borderline heavenly smell wafting in from the kitchen. The mixture of vanilla and sugar in the air is what convinces her to sit up, only recoiling a little bit at the chill of the hardwood floor against her bare feet.

Raelle Collar is a lot of things, but least of them all is a morning person; this explains the way she sloppily slides on only a pair of fuzzy polka-dotted socks that Tally got her five years ago (now worn-down and much less fuzzy) and nothing else before dragging her feet into the kitchen, following the scent of baked goods like a 90s cartoon character.

“You’re up!” is the first thing she hears from her right, where Tally’s laying down with her phone resting on her chest and red hair spread across the arm of the couch.

Another clang and Abigail’s head pops into view from behind the kitchen island, where she was presumably messing with their collection of baking trays. The top of the counter is nearly completely covered by baked goods—cookies, muffins, and cupcakes as far as the eye could see—as well as a mess of equipment and ingredients.

“Why the fuck don’t we have an eight by eight?” Abigail complains, tossing an unwanted tray on top of the growing stack.

Raelle pads over to the island and slides onto a barstool, the cold leather against her thighs causing a small shiver up her spine. It’s quickly remedied by a blanket draped over her shoulders by Tally, who slides in beside her with a seemingly magically-apparated cup of coffee.

“We lent it to Libba last month so she could make corn bread,” Tally says, nursing her own cup of coffee. “You threw a fit about her not using a cast-iron skillet, remember? And then she said she was never giving it back.”

Abigail straightens, fire in her eyes as she grabs her flour-smeared phone and marches off to presumably make a call to their friend.

She looks haphazard, Raelle notes as she takes a sip of coffee, like she hadn’t slept and is on the verge of launching into a famous Bellweather Breakdown. Another quick glance around the apartment, noting the clutter of papers and open law books on their dining room table and the open laptop on the floor by the coffee table, and Raelle’s pretty sure that Abigail pulled another all-nighter.

“What’s her deal?” Raelle asks, turning to catch Tally’s gaze, which had been focused on a tray of cookies.

Tally gives a small shrug, “She’s been awake since last night, after her post-exam nap yesterday. I think she’s stress baking while waiting for the professor to post her score?”

“The one that she took less than twenty-four hours ago? That’s stupid.”

“You try telling her that.”

Raelle opens her mouth to respond but she’s cut off by Abigail walking back into the room, looking frantic in the way her eyes are focused on her phone screen in evident rage. “I’m going to murder Swythe.”

“You’ve been saying that for the entirety of the seven years we’ve known you.” Tally challenges, causing Raelle to snicker into her coffee.

Abigail’s face is scrunched up in an angry frown, “I mean it this time! Who steals bakeware?”

“Elizabeth Swythe, evidently.” Raelle says with a smirk, imagining Libba sneaking into their apartment at night in all black and making away with Abigail’s prized stand mixer. The image alone pulls another chuckle out of her.

“Yeah, well—”

Abigail is cut off by the melodic ring of their doorbell echoing through their home.

Raelle’s first reaction is to immediately bring a finger to her nose, “Nose goes!”

Tally has also successfully touched her finger to her nose and the two of them turn to look at Abigail, who’s dusted in flour and frosting despite the apron that was meant to keep her tidy. The look on her face is enough to encourage both Tally and Raelle to spin back around to stare at the counter while she stomps to their front door.

When she’s out of immediate earshot, Raelle raises an eyebrow at Tally over her mug and basks in the laughter that comes from her friend.

“What’s she even going to do with all of this?”

Tally shrugs, “Charming her friends in the Spee Club, probably.”

Raelle cocks an eyebrow, snagging a cookie off the cooling rack and taking a bite despite Tally’s excited and scandalized expression.

“She’s going to kill you!”

“The Spee Club is an antiquated bunch of elitists who deserve no love.” Raelle says, mouth full of perfectly chewy snickerdoodle, “those stuck up brats can suck my—”

“Guys! 3B’s here!” Abigail’s voice cuts her off and Raelle freezes on the spot, half-eaten cookie dropping onto the countertop while Tally gasps in excitement.

Tally’s immediately moving, pulling Raelle from her seat and shoving her towards their front door regardless of the way Raelle’s resisting her and holy fuck when did Tally get this strong?

Raelle shoves Tally a little and clings onto the blanket around her shoulders, panicking. “I’m not fucking… wearing…” she gestures hurriedly to herself and drops her voice to a whisper, “pants!”

Tally and Raelle stand in the middle of their apartment, quietly bickering at each other for a brief moment until Abigail walks back in, a familiar guest following behind her.

There are moments in life when Raelle wishes the ground would crack open and swallow her whole. There are other moments when Raelle wishes she could go back in time and stop herself from existing at all. This would be one of those times.

Scylla Ramshorn—resident of apartment 3B, local bookshop keeper, and woman of Raelle’s dreams—is standing in their apartment with a warm smile looking like a model in her form-fitting jeans and comfy sweater. Meanwhile, Raelle’s in nothing but a grey shirt and her boxer briefs, cookie crumbs on her face, and hair messily pointing in every direction.

“Uh,” Raelle smiles, realizing she hasn’t brushed her teeth yet and wanting to crumble. “Hi! What brings you ‘round here?”

Abigail gives her a withering look of embarrassment and chooses to walk away to tend to her army of baked goods.

The laughter that chimes from Scylla is divine; it’s songlike and warm—it makes Raelle incredibly aware of how underdressed she is in her own home.

“I just came over to borrow some sugar.” Scylla says, “I ran out and forgot to pick some up. I hope that’s okay?”

Raelle’s about to rush to go grab some sugar in order to hurry through this mortifying experience but Tally’s gone in a small whip of wind with a, “I’ll go grab some!”

And suddenly she’s stuck: pantsless, standing in front of her crush, and trying to figure out what to do or say that won’t make her look like any more of a dweeb.

“So… sugar, huh?”

Raelle considers packing up and moving back to live with her dad in North Carolina all just to never have to see Scylla or embarrass herself in front of her ever again.

But Scylla just smiles at her, expression stuck somewhere between amusement and something else. “Yeah, I need it for my coffee. I know some people are purists and refuse to take it with cream or sugar but I’m a two creams two sugars type of girl.”

“Noted.” Raelle whispers, pulling at the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Sorry?” Scylla says, stepping closer, “I didn’t hear you.”

Scylla’s eyes drag up and down her body and Raelle suddenly feels even more naked than she actually is.

“Oh!” Raelle panics, “I said, ‘cool beans.’”

The way Scylla tilts her head and smiles should be illegal.

“Like. Coffee beans. ‘Cause you’re making coffee?”

Scylla opens her mouth to reply but seems at a loss for words. Raelle thanks every single higher power she’d ever even heard of in passing when Tally swings in with a small container of sugar and hands it to Scylla while mouthing, ‘Cool beans?’ at Raelle.

“Hopefully that’s enough to last you until you can go shopping again!” Tally supplies shortly after Raelle gives tired shrug in response.

“Thank you! This is plenty, I’m sure I won’t be bothering yo—”

Scylla’s cut off by a high-pitched squeal from behind the kitchen island and all three girls turn to see Abigail bouncing up and down with her phone clutched in her hand.

“I passed! Top five! I get a guaranteed spot in her Supreme Court litigation clinic next semester!” Abigail all but screeches. “Take that, Swythe!”

Raelle nods in pretend understanding, “That’s great, Abs.”

“Great?! More than great! I don’t have to wake up at six in the morning to attempt to register!” Abigail’s setting her phone down and moving towards them at an alarming speed, skidding to a stop with bright eyes and a huge smile. “We’re celebrating tonight!”

Scylla, taking this as her cue to go, gives a small nod. “Congratulations. Thank you for the sugar, I’ll get out of your hair and let you celebrate.”

“Ooooh, no no.” Abigail reaches out and grabs Scylla by the arm.

Raelle muses at the ease with which she does, knowing that she herself has struggled to find an appropriate reason to even brush shoulders with Scylla every time they’re down in the laundry room alone.

“You’re invited. Tonight! I’m treating all of us to dinner and drinks!”

“I don’t want to impose—” Scylla starts, shy smile on her face.

“No! I need all three of you there to shower me in praise for passing this exam and basically guaranteeing myself a spot as the youngest Supreme Court Justice in the history of the United States.”

Abigail’s victory speech continues, but Raelle has already tuned out, focusing in on the way Scylla offers her a sympathetic smile as if to ask, “is she always like this?” to which she can only apologetically smile and shrug.

“Oookay, Abigail, you’re scaring our neighbor.” Tally says, grabbing Abigail by the shoulders and pushing her towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you go shower and take a nap so you have energy to celebrate tonight.”

“I feel great!”

“You smell bad.” Tally deadpans.

It draws an offended gasp from Abigail, who finally relents to Tally’s pushing and moves into the bathroom. The door gets shut and they hear a muffled, “Okay but we’re taking victory shots when I’m clean!”

“Does she know it’s seven in the morning?” Scylla asks, joy and delight in her voice.

Raelle can’t help but laugh, “I don’t think she knows anything other than her name at this point.”

Tally moves to go clean up the mess of equipment on their kitchen counters. “She is serious about celebrating though. You should definitely come over later tonight—help us make sure she doesn’t repeat what happened when she got accepted into Harvard.”

“What did she do?”

“Let’s just say we’re not allowed in any of the 7-11s downtown.” Raelle offers meekly.

Scylla nods in disbelief, mouth open in a charmed smile, “noted.”

She laughs and Raelle finds herself chuckling along. Scylla’s laughter is infectious, it carries with it a sort of mirth that’s all-consuming and entirely soul-warming.

“So, see you tonight?” Raelle asks.

Scylla gives a loose shrug, “As long as you’re there.”

At a loss for real words, Raelle only nods.

“Cool beans.” Scylla smiles, eyebrow quirked.

“Cool beans.” Raelle mirrors, trying to ignore the way her heart speeds up tenfold. She can feel the blush crawling up her neck.

And then Scylla’s walking out of their apartment and Raelle’s just watching her go. She vaguely registers someone coming to stand behind her, but it doesn’t stop her from leaping several feet in the air when Tally giggles and bumps her hip.

“Cool beans, huh?”

[writers-blogck]

BNHA Imagines - MISC 01

                          Meeting for the First Time

Hitoshi Shinso: 

   He was pissed that he was put in the General Studies, he should be in one of the hero courses! Those tests weren't made for a quirk like his so there was no way for him to show off how powerful it could be. Plus, just to top it all off and piss him off further, he could hear a couple of students whispering about him. He could tell they were all support heroes, huddled up and gossiping. He thought that this would go away when he got into U.A. but guess jerks would always find a way. He was used to it by now.    "He looks super creepy, it's like he wants to be known as a villain." The one girl spoke, obviously frightened by the purple-haired boy.    "I know. Mind control is always bad, how could a hero have that quirk?"    "I bet he'll drop out and join the League of Villains. He already fits the part."    The words filled him with both anger and sadness. He had lived his entire life with those words and worked every day to prove them wrong. He had thought that since U.A. would be different since he had expected the students to be smarter but it was obvious that he was wrong. The three years here would be filled with voices and hidden stares just like the rest of his life. Why should he expect anyone to think differently?    "You do realize that the number three pro-hero is a man-made up of fire, right?" A new voice spoke up, bringing Shinso out of his thoughts and made him pay attention again, "That seems pretty villainy to me. What about thirteen? I'm sure people thought that her quirk could only be used for villainy. Plus it has been scientifically proven that a majority of villains were students who either failed or kept being told they could only be a villain instead of a hero. So please, be my guest if you want to keep berating him but don't be upset when he treats you like a villain. Even the best person will be a villain if they are diminished enough. All it takes is one bad day."    Your eyes glowed a medium blue as you stared at the girls. You were part of the support class as well but still had a powerful quirk. It was called Memory Card, allowing your brain to reach super-genius levels for up to fifteen minutes. You would remember anything you had ever been told and could use this power to access all of that knowledge. It helped that you were just super smart, to begin with, knowing your brain was made to support such knowledge. As your eyes slowly changed back to (e/c), the group of students scurried away.    Before Shinso had the chance to talk to you, you were gone. At that moment, he made it his duty to go find you and at least learn your name.

Mirio Togata:

Panic began to fill your chest as you crumbled against an alley wall. The dim street lights were the only thing lighting up the world around you. Everything seemed so dark and like there could be anything just around the corner. Whispers swirled around you and you could feel she was on her way. Why did it have to be like this? You would prefer not having a quirk to having to go through this. It made your entire body want to shut down.

Most of the time you were able to control her. As long as you were able to keep yourself calm and collected, she couldn't take control. You were able to use your quirk as it should be used. It was able to make people see their biggest fears, something which kept you from training with it as much as you should. How could you train with someone when you would have to make them feel that way? You had vowed from a young age to only ever use it in emergencies and against bad guys. Yet, due to your lack of training, she was able to take over every now and again.

Nightmare felt like a demon at times. You had no clue how these types of quirks worked. The only other person who you knew who had something like this was Tokoyami and he didn't understand himself. Dark Shadow got stronger when he was in the darkness, Nightmare got stronger the more you lost control of your thoughts. Breathing hurt as you gasped, fingers scratching at your neck as if something was choking you. You had medication to keep these episodes from coming on but you had run out. The doctor said he could see you in a few weeks and that you shouldn't have any attacks. Well, obviously he was wrong.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, one of the only things you were able to feel at that point. The rest of your body felt like it was numb and wasn't in your control anymore. No matter how many times you reminded yourself it wasn't real, it didn't help. Her sharp talons had attached themselves deep in your back and were planning on staying there. She had never gotten control of your body but you were terrified one day she would be strong enough. "Hey!" An echo reverberated around your skull, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was a male voice and while Nightmare could mimic someone, this sounded different. It felt hot, unlike everything around you that was freezing you to the bone. It seemed to only strengthen due to the voice but a patch of warm spread on your shoulder, shaking you. Loud thunder rumbled from above - she was angry. The talons tightened but you forced yourself to focus on the soft warmth until you felt your eyes open again.

The alleyway faded away as the light returned, bringing you out of your attack. The sun was shining down at your crumbled form against a tree on school grounds, your skin suddenly becoming quite warm. How long had you been here with the hot sun shining down on you? As you sat up properly, you could feel the sweat under your blazer and made a mental note to get some water as soon as you were inside. "Are you okay?" Your attention shifted to the boy standing above you, his voice exactly like the one you heard before. He was larger than you overall, suggesting him being an upperclassman. He wasn't part of 1-B, the class you had been assigned to. They told you that if you had more control over your powers, you could have made it into 1-A. You wanted to but you had no idea how to train without using someone else. What class was this boy in? General Studies? Support? Your mind was in a daze, slowly shifting your attention to the blue worried eyes looking down at you. Blonde hair was pushed back, though it was beginning to get messy with the heat. The first thought in your head as you saw his face for the first time was: Can the sun be a person?

Tamaki Amajiki:

Japan was so different than America. You knew you were lucky to be one of the transfer students to U.A. but it was intimidating with the entirely new country. The manners were so different here, they had so many ideas of what was polite and what was disrespectful. How would you learn it all? Would someone get mad at you because you were a foreigner? These thoughts filled your head until a shout rang out and you felt a large amount of force push against you. It was easy to regain your balance after stumbling back an inch or so. The sound of metal crunching up filled your ears as you began to focus back in on the present. What had happened? "Oh my god, are you okay?" A purple-haired boy that was much taller than you asked, running over in your direction before slowing as he got closer. His eyes moved from your figure to the crumbled car in front of you. A mixture of confusion and panic washed over his face as you casually looked down at the ruined vehicle. Luckily, no one was inside. What had happened? You glanced toward the direction it came from before you felt pale hands ghosting over your skin in search of some type of wounds. "I'm fine!" You smiled up at him, causing him to stumble back to put some space in between the two of you again. "That's a full car that just hit you. Maybe you have a concussion...Hm, you need a medic but the villain is still attacking...What should I do?" He mumbled the last part to himself, body rocking back and forth on his heels. This reaction was normal for you when someone saw your quirk for the first time. You were small, just reaching 5 feet (a symptom of your quirk), which often caused people to see you as fragile. It was rather ironic when they finally saw what you could take.

"I can take it. I am like super dense, you definitely can't pick me up. I'm 300 pounds if you can believe that!" "What...?" "My friends from home call me Buggie because of my quirk. I'm like an ant, do you know about them? I'm sure you do but some people don't think about how strong they are. They can carry up to 1,000 times their weight! I can do that too, isn't that really cool? I mean, lifting 1,000 times my body weight is straining but you know what I mean. " "Yeah, alright. If you're not hurt..." There was doubt in his eyes but he needed to get back to the battle. He would have to trust you if he could get back to Fatgum and help him. What if he was being hurt right now? His stomach twisted and he felt like he was ready to throw up. "No, I'm fine! I can move this car if you need, I could easily pick it up and-" "Ah- I don't have time. I'm sorry, I need to get back to that villain." A simple nod was all that you got as a parting before he was running off, white cape fluttering behind him. You wondered if he was a student of U.A. as you walked away, looking down at the address of the school that you were trying to find. 

Nejire Hado:

When Ryuku decided to take you, along with Tsu and Uraraka for your internships, you were shocked. You were a quiet and shy individual, feeling a lot smaller than the two other girls. Both of them weren't afraid to speak out about what they think or how people are going to react. To you, this was your everyday life. Your quirk allowed you to see the future, multiple versions of the future. Sometimes it was good but you often saw so many terrible and dangerous things. Such simple things could hurt so many people. It had left you filled with anxiety, wishing you could turn off your visions. What was even more shocking was the member of the big three that also was part of your group. The three of them had spoken to your class, though you had a hard time paying attention, you still were able to remember her. Nejire, that was her name. She was so much nicer than you thought. She was so patient with you, it had to be due to Tamaki. She was used to dealing with someone with a fast-acting mind.

"Senpai..." You spoke softly, catching the attention of the blue-haired girl. The first time you had called her that was an accident but she seemed to like it. You couldn't help but wonder if she paid more attention to you than the other two girls. Was that fair? Were you just overthinking it and seeing things that weren't really there? "Yes?" She smiled and your heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Nejire was just so pretty and sweet, it was hard to keep yourself from getting flustered around her. She was what you dreamed to be but you doubted you would ever be as good as her. You didn't even have a chance, why did you keep trying? Shaking your head ever so slightly, you pushed those thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. "Are you sure you want to take me on patrol with you instead of Tsu or Uraraka? I'm certain they would be more suited for it...I don't want to mess up and make something-" "You are perfect for patrol, my little kohai. Plus, I want to get to know you better and you seem to be less nervous when there are not many people. Don't worry about it, I'm certain about my choices. I like to think I make pretty good ones, you know?" Her arm flung over your shoulders, leading you forward as you were left in silence. How could your face feel this hot? Was the air thinner? "O-Okay..."

How were you going to survive this girl?

All-Might:

The two of you were much younger when the two of you met for the first time. It was hazy to remember how it all went. It was strange to think there was a time you didn't know him or Aizawa or the others. They felt so permanent in your life now that thinking before them felt wrong. All-Might was one of the top heroes and the others were rising in the ranks just as much! Why would you want to focus on the past when the present was so good? It wasn't as magical as the press tried to guess. They said he rescued you from falling off a bridge or you had been a hostage but it was nothing that fancy. The two of you had met your first day of U.A. because the two of you were in 1-A. Toshinori attracted the attention of most of the other students and you would be lying if you said you didn't check him out like the others. He was handsome- a strong body with a dazzling smile. The full package. When lunch rolled around, you would be surprised when he approached you first, asking if he could sit with you. It wasn't that you approached him first and fell in love like the media believed. It was the exact opposite. If anyone asked him to this day, he would be willing to gush about you for hours if they let him. At first, it was a simple adoration as a friend who was proud but it began to change. It would all be out in the open when he ended up kissing you while a camera was pointing at the two of you. That was when all shit went loose. But it was much simpler back when the two of you were in school. It was no different than any puppy dog crush between two people. The two of you had no clue of the chaos and pain that waited for the two of you in the future. Who would expect their happiness to be on a timer?

Aizawa Shouta:

It wasn't rare to find Aizawa drinking at a bar in his free time. He was stressed and it was only getting worse as the year progressed. His students were being put in more and more danger and there was nothing he could do about it. These villains were getting ahead of the pro heroes and it was increasingly becoming hazier on if they could win. One would like to believe the good guys always will win but Aizawa knew better. He had lost that innocence long ago.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him look up to see the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They held no grief or guilt in them and instead sparkled in the dim bar light. They were holding a small glass of wine, their lips dyed with a faint hue of red. "I'm fine." He grumbled, eyes drifting to the whiskey in his cup. Was this his second glass? He didn't keep track, he just drank until those thoughts left. It was one of the only ways he was able to get some sleep recently. It wasn't healthy but he didn't know of another way. So much was happening and he was in charge of making sure his students were safe. Bakugo had gotten kidnapped, who knew what else was coming? They were children...

Without any warning, they sat down in the stool next to him silently. Nothing was said between the two of them at that moment or the rest of the night. Aizawa didn't have to do anything and yet, the person stayed. He had expected to get annoyed but the presence of another person helped. His mind was able to relax if only for the few hours they were able to spend together. The minutes passed as they sat together, drinking their respective drinks. The sun soon set and the darkness began to cover the city. The time of the villains. He needed to go, he had work in the morning. He may not get a lot of sleep but he was going to take advantage of the warm liqueur in his stomach and the calmness this person provided. As he stood to put his jacket back on, his eyes glanced over at the dark streets again and couldn't help but think about how dangerous it was outside. He was a hero, after all, he was trained to go out when it was like this but when he looked at the other person, they looked just like a citizen. Before they parted, he took a chance and offered to walk them home. He was considering taking it back but once they agreed, he was too far gone.

Hawks:

For your first two years of attending U.A., you were an intern under Aizawa. He would never admit it but he had a soft spot in his heart for you. When you first entered the school, you had no family and had self-esteem about as good as Tamaki's, one of your juniors. You could remember seeing him get into 1-A as you were finishing up your last year. That had been a hectic time for you but you were part of the top three of your own year and had to give a speech. You were proud when you heard the shy boy was in his own big three. You knew he had talent when you met him.

Most of your time was spent in your internships as you had two to do, something extremely rare. Your official internship was under Aizawa and you were training to become a teacher at U.A. but you wanted some more fieldwork under your belt. When you first started, Aizawa did have you go on missions and such but it had declined the older you got and the more concrete your goal of working at U.A. became. It was true but you wanted more. That was when you met him for the first time. He was amazing to watch! When hearing that he was only twenty, you decided that you would internship under him.

Aizawa tried to talk you out of it but he knew once you had something on your mind, you wouldn't stop until you got it. It took a lot to finally get the boy to agree to take you under his wing. He gave a long list of reasons why the two of you would be a terrible pairing but you kept coming back with reasons that destroyed his complaints. In the end, it was your determination that made him agree to let you tag along. What would your life be if he rejected you? Once you finished your final year in U.A., you were given a position as a teacher's assistant, to Aizawa as was expected. When you got a few years under your belt with him, Nezu would then allow you to teach first years. It was a dream come true! Training future heroes was amazing but you did have that tug every now and again where you wanted to help with more hero work.  Hawks decided to let you come with him on patrols whenever you got that way, the two of you going through many sleepless nights together. The press even dubbed you as Hawk's 'semi-sidekick'. You weren't in the front lines a lot but you really appreciated what Hawks did.

Hawks had no clue what to expect when he took you in. He had never been a mentor to someone and it was strange when they were only three years his junior. The mentorship morphed into a strange friendship that only strengthened once you graduated. What he didn't expect was to begin feeling differently about you, no longer seeing you just a kid. Aizawa had accepted his soft spot for you during your second year but Hawks was still in denial about how he really felt. The two felt different types of love for you but without you even knowing, you had them wrapped around your finger.

[theskyeandsea]

Breaking and Entering IS Self-Care || Nora & Skylar

Location: Nic and Skylar’s House

Timing: Backdated for May 14th, 2020

Tagging: @fearfordinner

Description: Sometimes self-care is breaking and entering. Sometimes it’s a bear, a seal, and a chihuahua playing cards. And sometimes, it’s both.

TW: Medical Blood

Standing at the East End, Nora gazed upon her next target. The window house. Or, that’s what she’d always called it. It had a lot of windows. Every time she’d gone near it she had an urge to break into it simply because of those windows. They were little beacons beckoning her to come inside. Now that she, the neighborhood bear, was back in the wild this would be her opening act. It was one of those many windows that were her way in. She found one unlocked and managed to crawl in. It was nice, for people who didn’t like a haunted look. Pop culture was everywhere on the premise in the form of pop dolls and manga. Nora took her time walking around the kitchen and living room. Every time she saw something of interest she would pick it up to examine it closely before putting it back down, deliberately out of place by a few inches. 

Steadying herself on the edge of the tub, Skylar unwound the bandages around her leg and threw them in the trash. The wound was better, she could tell, but she still hated this part of her day. The limping into the bathroom, the wiping off the blood. It hurt, it hurt so much more than she would have thought. But, she didn’t have any way to help ease the pain, not yet at least. Filling up a small plastic cup with warm, soapy water, Skylar looked apprehensively at her leg before pouring the water over her leg. A small yelp of pain escaped her lips as the water ran down her injury, coloring the water a slight pink. While her leg was definitely healing, every time she walked, it opened up just enough for her to feel a slight trickle of blood seep into the bandages. Gritting her teeth, Skylar washed the wound, unable to contain the gasps and grimaces as she did so. 

The best thing about pop figures were their lifeless black eyes. Nora decided that she’d like to have lifeless black eyes just like the pop figure of the green haired boy in a blue suit. An illusion spread over her face, giving her black lifeless eyes to stare back at the character she didn’t know. A yelp of pain tore her attention away from the doll. Someone else was there. Cool. Nora put down the toy. She was excited to see who would live in the window house. She slunk down the hallway towards the bathroom. The bathroom door wasn’t shut, swinging halfway in the frame. Nora nudged it open and was instantly greeted by the back of someone she knew. “Oh hey Skylar. I didn’t know you lived here.” Nora said shamelessly in her monotone drull. 

Too focused on the pain spreading through her leg, Skylar wasn’t aware of the door being pushed open, or the fact that she wasn’t alone in the bathroom. But, at the sound of a voice behind her, Skylar’s leg slipped and she fell into the bathtub, letting out short yell of pain as the impact knocked her leg against the side of the tub. Her pajama pants, rolled up to the knee, were soaked and the water around her was colored a darker shade of red as blood rolled down the side of her leg. Disoriented, the memories of the man sneaking up behind her and pulling the gun flashed in her mind and she held up her hands instinctively to protect herself. Fear and adrenaline had her heart pounding as she worked up the nerve to peer through her fingers and saw that it was… Nora. “N-nora?” She stammered, “What..? Why are you here?”

Fear swelled and bubbled around Skylar, drifting into Nora’s nostrils and giving her a tasty little snack. It smelt like a nice ocean breeze. Nora didn’t think twice about it. Fear was a common reaction to her. So when Skylar raised her hands to protect herself and braced, Nora didn’t think anything weird of it. She slunk forward, looking into the bathtub of colored water. “I’m breaking in.” Nora answered Skylar. “I’ve always wanted to see inside this house.” Her eyes moved from the discolored water to Skylar’s leg. “What happened to your leg? Do you need help with anything?”

Struggling to calm herself down, Skylar gripped the edge of the tub in an attempt to try and gain some semblance of control. She blinked rapidly, doing her best to suck in a deep breath to get her heart rate down. The sudden appearance of Nora, in her home, right behind her was… not something she had expected. “You-- you’re… okay.” She nodded, staring at the ripples in the water. Breaking in. She didn’t understand why, was she here to hurt her? Was she going to hurt her? Swallowing, Skylar glanced down at the wound on her leg. “I-- I got hurt. Someone hurt me.” She nodded, not sure what else to say about her situation. “Help me..?” She blinked, confused. 

The fear was a nice snack. A tasty treat as a reward for a successful mission. Skylar seemed to be struggling for words through the fear, so Nora sat down against the wall to seem less threatening. If she was sitting down, she wasn’t going to transform into a bear or something, right? Not that Skylar knew about the bear, but Nora was trying. “Someone hurt me too.” Nora lifted up her shirt to show her bandaged wound. “People can be cowards.” Nora assumed that was how Skylar got hurt. Fear. “Yeah help. It looks painful. I can help with anything.” Nora shrugged. She could also offer to leave and not break into someone's house, however the thought never crossed her mind. 

As Nora sat down, Skylar felt some small amount of relief wash over her. It was okay. It was going to be okay, she wasn’t going to hurt her. No one was going to hurt her. Looking at the bandaged injury on her unexpected guest’s side, Skylar’s eyes widened. Was it the same man who had shot her? The human hunter? “Did he-- was he an old man? With white hair and a beard?” She said. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wish she had some kind of description of him that didn’t make him sound like Santa Claus. “It’s um… Can you help me out of the tub? It’s hard for me to stand.” She had some bandages sitting out on the bathroom counter; she’d planned to rewrap her leg once she’d finished washing it after all.

“I don’t think he’s old. Maybe in his thirties.” Was Skylar someone who considered people in their thirties old? It was a struggle to get back to her feet. Pain branched along her sides but Nora ignored it. “What did you do to scare him? The old man?” The saying ‘Assumptions make an ass of you and me’ was only partly true, because the only person Nora made an ass of was herself. Now on her feet, Nora braced herself before reaching her arms out to help Skylar up. “Do you live alone?” Nora asked. She wondered why there was no one here to help Skylar with the bandages. Nora had been lucky. Despite her attempt to lock herself away from everyone in the attic, she had people and ghosts come up to help her change bandages regularly. 

Thirties. No, that definitely wasn’t the same man. But, that just meant there was someone else going around shooting people, which was just as concerning. Skylar blinked in confusion at the question. “Scare him..? I didn’t. He was…” She hesitated, not sure how to explain why the man had been after her, why he had shot her. She couldn’t say it without telling Nora her secret. And, after telling Erin the other day, she wasn’t feeling quite up to letting more people in on what she was. “He just shot me.” She said. Taking Nora’s hands with a grateful nod, Skylar stepped out of the bathtub and leaned against the wall for a moment before slipping away from her grasp. “I’ll be okay to walk. And, no, I don’t. My roommate lives here, but he’s not around right now. You’re probably lucky that he’s out.” She said with a nod. She couldn’t imagine how Nic would react to someone just breaking into his house. Probably with a swift punch to the face or something equally violent.

“Another coward.” Nora nodded along, piecing together Skylar’s broken sentences with ideas that could only be constructed in her mind. “People need to stop shooting people.” Nora announced to a room full of people who had been shot and were not likely to shoot back. “He’s lucky he’s out.” Nora commented back, thinking of how fun it would be to terrify someone right now. Obviously she couldn’t terrify Skylar. Skylar had given her a very nice birthday net to go sky fishing with. Plus, she had already been scared enough just be Nora walking in. Now that Skylar was up Nora walked over to the bandages on the counter, picking them up. “Do you have neosporin? I think that’s supposed to go on first.” 

“I don’t-- I don’t think he was a...” Skylar’s voice trailed off slightly as she tried to collect her thoughts, still swimming in her brain. He definitely wasn’t a coward. But, if that’s what Nora assumed, she didn’t really want to fight to change her mind. And, besides. She could agree with her other statement. “Mhm. It’d be nice if they would.” She nodded. Though, she wasn’t really sure if Nic would think very much of Nora’s opinion of him. “Please don’t scare him. He’s um… his fight or flight is kinda always set to fight.” She warned. Nodding at the other woman’s words, Skylar pointed to the cabinet. “I’ve got a tube of it in there. I can, I can do that. I’m just not very good at the bandages.”

A lot of people have been trying to stop the scare train recently, and Nora was not having it. She decided not to comment.. She would scare everyone. That was the way this cookie crumbled. Nora opened the cabinet Skylar nodded at and pulled out a tube of neosporin. “Munch, my best friend, he's a paintbrush, told me that having a body is too much trouble and doesn’t understand why I didn’t get rid of it.” Nora squatted down in front of Skylar, putting the antibacterial cream on the bandage before starting to wrap up her leg. “I decided he was right when I had to get good at bandaging myself.” Nora’s nose scrunched a tiny bit in concentration as she tried to make sure the bandaging was perfect, blatantly ignoring Skylar saying that she could do that. “The things we do for our flesh.” 

“Your best friend is a paintbrush..?” Skylar echoed, trying to make sure that she’d heard that right. If that was true, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing she’d heard of. Besides, she couldn’t really judge. She turned into a seal and her best friend was a zombie. But Remmy at least wasn’t an inanimate object. “Oh. Um… I think it’s okay to have a body? Even if it hurts sometimes.” She said, watching as Nora began to smear Neosporin on the bandages and began to wind them around her leg. As much as she wanted to protest, she wasn’t entirely in any condition to do so. As the soothing balm pressed against her wound, Skylar felt the tension trapped in her shoulders ease slightly. “Mhm. It’s not always easy, but sometimes we have to do what we have to do.” She said, her thoughts going to the sealskin hidden behind the bookshelf of her room. It wasn’t a fool proof spot, but it wasn’t as obvious as putting it under her mattress or shoved in the back of her closet. 

“Yeah, he’s just angry that he doesn’t have a body.” Nora held up her hand in a painting motion “on account of him being a paintbrush.”  Nora nodded as Skylar declared they had to do what they had to do. “You’re right. And you’re bandaged.” Nora stood back up, admiring her handy work. “Do you need anything else while I’m here? A snack?” Nora wasn’t sure what to do in this situation suddenly. Normally when she broke into someone's house she would scare them, they would scream, she’d reveal it was her, everyone would have a good hearty laugh and then she’d be on her way. Now there hadn’t been an intentional scare and Nora was nervous about leaving Skylar alone. “A game of cards?” 

“Mmmm. I guess that makes sense that he’s jealous?” Skylar said, hoping that her words didn’t sound entirely like she was out of her depth. But also... maybe it was because she was muddled up by the pain in her leg, but why was Nora’s best friend a talking paintbrush? She wasn’t magical was she? A little odd, a little different, but wasn’t everyone in this town? Unable to really dwell on the thought, Skylar glanced down at her soaked pants. All she really wanted to do was change and go to bed, but… It was nice, in a way, to have someone here. Even if Nora had broken into her house. “Um… Cards sound nice. And food. I think Nic grabbed me some sushi in the fridge. You can have some too.” She said as she steadied herself against the wall of the bathroom to walk back towards her room, eager to change out of her dripping clothes. Shutting the door behind her, Skylar changed as quickly as she could and settled on the edge of her bed. The wound throbbed, but only slightly. A welcome relief. 

There it was. An invitation to the fridge. Nora watched to make sure Skylar got to her room alright before slinking off to the kitchen. The mayhem started at the fridge as she first pulled out Skylar’s sushi then started to pull out any item she thought contained meat. Then she started to heat up all the meat items that she thought needed to be heated up. While those were heating, she got into the cabinets. Nora pulled out plates, silverware, crackers, and sweets. Anything that fell under ‘Oh maybe Skylar would like to eat this’ was pulled out and set at a table. Once the table was set she started scouring the house for any kind of cards. Uno. Playing cards. Flux. Anything. If it had cards in it she grabbed it. She then considered going to Skylar to see if she needed help getting back out, but Nora decided against it. People had their pride, and sometimes that pride was being able to walk somewhere on their own. 

Poking out of her room, Skylar walked gingerly out to the kitchen and was taken aback by the massive spread of food that was laid out on the table. Nora had… taken her invitation pretty seriously. But, after they’d run into each other fishing for sky fish, she couldn’t be too surprised. Seeing some of Nic’s cookies spread out, a slight pang of guilt ran through her. She’d have to make sure that she bought him new ones to replace the ones Nora ate. “This looks, um, really great. Thank you.” Skylar said, not entirely sure what else to say as she sank heavily into her seat at the table before taking a piece of sushi and eating it. Her stomach was already growling, starving after the past week. “Oh, you found the cards. Did you want to play anything specifically?” She asked.

“Anything is fine for me. I’m very good at war.” War also happened to be the only two person game she could think of off the top of her head. Nora pulled out a normal deck of cards and started shuffling it. “Anything you want to play?” She stopped shuffling long enough to eat something. God. She loved meat. This house had a lot of meat in it. She was very happy to see that. “Oh. I didn’t mention, but I like your house.” Nora pointed at the windows. “I’ve always liked how many windows it has. It’s very pretty.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Skylar nodded as she ate another piece of sushi, then another. As odd as Nora was-- and as terrifying as it was that she’d managed to break in here, completely unannounced-- it was nice to have the company. As Nora began to deal the cards, Dundee padded out into the kitchen before hopping up onto her lap, resting his head on the table. With a slightly hesitant hand, Skylar patted him once on the top of his furry head before taking her pile of cards. “Thanks.” She said. As she did so, she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was a bit confused and maybe a bit tired at the edges. But, it was one of the first genuine smiles she’d been able to muster over the past few days. And that was good enough for now.

[originalpistol]

𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐦𝐲 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠. — Part One

Lace flowed down to plank wood flooring, and spilt on down for a foot or two of train. The brims of my lips were full with various little hemming pins, all so I could make the appropriate alterations. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stood so firmly in one spot, despite my feet begging to be free of the heels. Nope. There would be no rest in sight. At least, not for the near future. My mind was busy rambling over and over last week’s events and just how everything had played out. Part of my soul still remained cautious and in disbelief of it all, but yet here I stood. Tacking in pin after pin to hold the dress in the perfect placement for when I was ready to lead it away, and into the sewing cabinet. Baby blue eyes scanned across the mirrored board I had many measurements spread across, nodding to myself once more as I slipped another pin from between my lips, into my fingers, and right by my thumb right through the soft — damn near silken, fabric. Weaving the pin into place, and securing it with a final thread of fabric against the shoulder. Draping it down to sit perfect against the shoulder of the mannequin at hand. They would slouch slightly, but never enough to reveal too much skin. Classy. Effortlessly classy. For a moment I pulled away from my project to look over it, eyes narrowing in suspicion and critique of my own work. Everything would be perfect, and without flaw by the time I was done. Oh, but time was ticking. Even as I worked away day after day, hour after hour. Refining each and every aspect of this dress. Adding subtle changes, and even some dramatic ones. I’d went from loving the way it looked soft and delicate to craving something more extravagant. More length. More crystal organza, more finely made textures. Something for every bride. How in the 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 hell had I managed to get into this? Surely to God people were going to be floored when they saw a 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 line come from one of the biggest names in lingerie. The question rose in my mind quicker than I’d been able to stop it, and I hadn’t given much time to the whole idea. Hell, I didn’t pay it enough mind to even stop the sweeping motion of my needle and thread. Closely, and precisely, guiding the needle in against the smallest stitch. Over and over until I’d mastered the perfect design. I was laying a pattern for Swarovski to follow with their intricate beading of crystals. Each dress would dawn a new take on an old classic. News of my collaboration with Elie Saab and Oscar de la Renta caught on like wildfire amongst a desert dry forest in the heat of July. Each dress was created with a particular vision, and each dress would hold its own place amongst the lineup of weddings. Some were season-specific, while others were indicative of an era in time. One doesn’t downplay a classic. No. We are here to pay homage to the times that have passed, and to restore them to a more refined glory. These dresses were all inspired. Each piece was something new, and each one held a certain key to my heart. I’d dedicated months upon months to the core design before I would even remotely allow the other designers to spill their own creativity into the designs. Not even a sketch was released. All anyone knew was the letter I’d sent over. Handwritten, and forwarded by person to be hand-delivered. Everything was reminiscent of a step-back in time. I wanted these dresses and this collaboration to drip in the essence of the beauty in simplicity. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ My dearest Oscar, I write to you in hopes to achieve something wonderful. Something no one expects. I hope to restore the light of a time passed to the overly sensitized world at hand. To bring something back that was once a simple dream. You’ve touched some of the most delicate fabrics in efforts to create the best designs in wedding couture. You’ve mastered the art, and I hope to do the same. This fall, I plan to release a line of wedding dresses unlike any prior. With the skillful design I’ve created, and the whimsical guide of Elie’s details, and your fabrics; this will be the crowning moment. You’re probably wondering why I, of all people, have decided to do this. And maybe you think you know. I doubt if you do. The reason is simple: Every bride deserves to have something that speaks to her soul. Most women settle on their dress for something similar to what they desire the most. Why? Well, because while this dress might have the sparkle she craves, that one mirrors the perfect amount of tulle to train ratio. After all, isn’t the fabric more important than the embellishments? For her — the truth is no. But she will settle for yes. It is close enough. I refuse. In February you and Elie will receive instructions on how you’ll not only travel to my studio, but everything else of importance to your stay. Plan for a few months, at the least. I won’t accept no as an answer. When this letter is delivered, I will assume it as a yes. Much love and regards, Alice. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ Both he and Elie were given the exact letter, with a few minor changes. They both knew me far too well to challenge my stance on this collaboration. Once I set my mind and focus to something? It will be mine. They would see the signature of my first name as a comfort, and as a symbol of our close relations. It was rare that I let anyone call me by my first name, and especially as I grew to a higher stature within the realm of business and high fashion. There was no need for semantics or intermingling of feeling, not as far as I was concerned. This was much of why I was regarded to as cold or standoffish. I simply wasn’t one that cared too much for feelings or anything that would stand in my way of getting what I wanted, or where I wanted to be. Nimble, agile, fingers tempted the tip of the needle to edge between the layers of a well-defined ruffle of silk and lace. I’d slipped to my knees in efforts to truly capture the design I planned to embody with this dress. Different from the last, in every way possible. Down to the stitching. None of these pieces would hold the same fabrics, or even the same similarities. This is why I’d found eight young ladies who were planning to make their walk down the infamous aisle sometime in their near future. I brought these women in, interviewed each one for hours on end, and eventually came out with a sketch in mind of what I would do. Though none of them knew to expect their perfect dress to show up in their closets, let alone to be snatched from the real world, and thrown onto a runway in front of millions of designers, and couture-hounds alike. See, the whole catch to my plan was that in order for these women to receive their dream gown would be their cooperation in walking the runway. Some would succeed, and others? They would fall through the cracks of their fragile minds as nerves came out to play. Those ladies are nothing more than a weak representation of a woman. I’d simply roll my ocean inspired eyes, and scrap their sketch from the book that lay in my leather clad lap. Let my gaze fall on the crumpled paper rather than the girl. She wouldn’t be worth the time to give another look. Instead, my dismay and lack of interest was more than enough to settle any questions she might have. 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕. Black fingernails slowly tapped down against the course cartridge paper at hand, giving way to the thinning of my patience. Not only in the ladies, but in the process as a whole. Only one dress was finished. It was now mid-June. I had eight ladies locked in. None of which would know that it was their dress that was looming in the balance if they chose to back away from the runway when their time came. Hell, the only way any of the others knew that was the plan was by the way I scraped the dress’s sketch in entirety. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard the audible crumble of a dream from the gasp that spilt by the hopeful lips of a bride. Did I get joy from the shattered hope? Hell yes. But did I care enough to even deliver the pathetic tribe of bride’s their sketches, anyways? I could. Maybe that would be the least I could do considering the sheer amount of man-hours I’d taken from their lives to create a design all their own. All to leave their precious dresses a compromised mess on the guest-office floor. I wouldn’t dare let them set foot in my office. Jesus, no. Either way? These ladies had their chance at a once-in-a-lifetime gown. It was on them that they couldn’t check themselves when it came to their own mental measurements. “Sucks to suck, I suppose,” Southern reflects built into the sentence at hand, and a smirk rode along my lush lips. There wasn’t even a small hint of sarcasm resonating behind each of these words. Nope. in all seriousness I’d stood to my feet, and nodded one of my employees to gather the remaining sketch from the floor before it landed in the hands of a vengeful bride. We all knew how emotional women tended to be when a wedding was in the mix — how fucking classic. For the life of me, I couldn’t wrap my head around being a bitch at the cause of a wedding .𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩. Rip the band-aid off, and get it over with, princess. The impulsive reaction to roll my eyes was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t refrain from. So, naturally, I let my head doddle back against slender shoulders, let out a disgruntled sigh, and rolled my eyes. Nothing new here. Perfectly manicured fingers began to tap down against the marble table top, mind dwindling on what I was going for next. Crush another soul? Nah. A few a day was more than enough. Slowly, I thumbed through the sketchbook at my fingers. Each page was filled with a few small ideas of swatches, or drawings pertaining to the one dress at hand. There was a different book per bride; Per dress. Nothing about these pieces was easy. There were challenges hidden within each and every design. Sure, some were complex while others remained simple to the touch, yet they were all a challenge. Though I did love a genuinely good boggle of the mind. They always brought out the best pieces. A small smile curved into place against my lips the moment I thought about having each and every piece of my collection complete. Without a second thought, I sprung to action. Slipping the shading pencil from behind my ear, and between my fingers as I found the correct page. This would be where I worked on the bodice of Alicia’s dress. Alicia. Boy, there really was nothing too special about her. She was rather plain. Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and with a personality about as exuberant as a rock’s. It was sad, really. However, I could see where her ideas blossomed. They weren’t cohesive to say the least, but they allowed me enough wiggle room to be able to create a true masterpiece. This particular dress was beginning to grow into a personal favorite. A skirt created purely out of a glimmer encrusted lace, and followed through with a sateen tie securing the bottom of the waistline, and cinching her inward. Something to allow her to look smaller in stature. At her request. Brisk strokes of the lead against the thick paper resulted in a slender design. Something with bones in it, but undetectable to the naked eye. No one would openly know of this bride’s struggle with her own self-reflection. As far as I was concerned? The only one who would know of this would be the fingers whom built the dress, and the one who wore it down the damn aisle. On to the neckline. I tinkered around on several ideas for this particular design. Would I leave the shoulders bare and exposed, or would I place small sleeves to cusp the tanned skin? Neither. I decided to wrap the same sateen around her neck as if it were a gentle fist slipping around the slender exterior. Something sensual to the eyes, and yet leaving a mystery beneath. Giving her freedom for any surprise she hoped to give beneath. Sleeveless dresses made that hard. Once the draft of my design for Alicia was done, I made a conscious effort to pen in the number 8. Eight dresses down. Eight that have been completed from my side of the sketchbook, and from my hands? This book would travel to both Elie and Oscar for their creative input. By the end of this, we would easily have every page bruised with scritches and scratches of the design. Perhaps to the naked, untrained eye, you wouldn’t see anything more than a mess strewn across the pages. Probably. But between the three of us? This show should debut as one of the best. A show that was truly bound to top any prior to, and probably would outweigh others to come. Nothing new there, when it came to things I created. A deep sigh parted my soft, lush lips, and I found myself flipping the pages of the leather-bound book closed, and slipping it inside my bag. Now, to hand this off to the boys. Light echoes of my heels touching base with the wooden floors filled the empty office around me; I loved that noise. I always had. I could remember being a little girl and demanding to wear heels, or the closest thing to it. The house was always filled with some clacking noise or another. Somehow, someway, I was going to feel like I was somebody. Crazy how wearing heels could bring on that semblance. Heels made me feel like I could take over the world. — Maybe, just maybe that was why I owned so damn many. Locks of caramel brown hair flowed heavenly against my slender shoulders when I pushed my way through the arched glass doors. A single handprint coming into view when I did, and I didn’t bother to knock when I stepped into the threshold of their corridor. Both of them were to their own vices, one studying over what seemed to be a different set of sketches, and the other was focused right to an easel and a wooden palette. There had to be eighteen color mixtures spilt against the grain, and something about that caused a small smile to spill out against porcelain features. The way all of our minds work so differently, but yet we could all come to a harmony? Beautiful. The respect both of these men had earned from me was to a level very few were ever able to acquire, and a piece of me hoped I had managed to gain this from their perspectives as well. It wasn’t until Elie reached a single hand out that I was brought right back to the moment at hand, and a sly little smirk prompted itself in among my pink shaded lips. “Damn, you really think I’m just going to hand the sketches over that easily? Good try. No. You 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 are going to hear what I have to say, and then you can have the sketches to do with as you will.” Every reflect of my tone was laced with a strict implication. This show was my baby. My process. My idea. “Hmm,” Oscar hummed out of chapped lips that were shrouded in a line of stubble that faded against his neck. “You’re just as difficult as Christian regarded, my dear. But exhilarating, nonetheless, hmm?” Those words seemed to be coated with a fatherly affection, and something in that seemed to ease me. One swift nod was given in his respect, Elie nodded his own approval of my conditions to which I would show them. Without the smallest hesitation I made myself at home on the ottoman that sat only a foot or two shy of both men, letting my gaze wander over them for a moment or two longer. “In this book there are 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 dresses. Each and every dress is to be worn by the bride that will walk in it, and every dress will be exactly as she envisioned it. There will be no flaws. There will be no settling for one thing over the other. You two will take every little note I’ve given, and you will transform. I have designed each skirt and bodice. Fine details and embellishments; that is your specialties. Right hand moves in accordance with the left, boys. I want no changes made to the base of the dress.” “Seven? There are supposed to be 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭..?” Elie questioned, raising a single bushy brow in my direction. “There 𝐚𝐫𝐞 eight. You have seven.” Every word that spilt past my lips was certain and calculated. “Alice. Why are we only to have seven if there are eight to be completed? You cannot hand us a partial portfolio of sketches.” Oscar seemingly argued towards my words, and I hadn’t been able to help the eyeroll. “In due time. You both will see the eighth dress. Independently. Of my own volition. As for now? Complete the first seven, when that is done I should have my segment of the eighth dress completed.” No, I hadn’t withheld the last dress as a way of buying myself any time. Not in the slightest. It was actually a quite different reason, if I was being completely honest with myself, but it was a reason I was inaudibly terrified to admit both to myself and to anyone else on the face of the earth. Fᴇᴀʀ — This was something I was foreign to both in mind and emotion. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d allowed myself to feel any sense of fear, and there was something in that fact alone that sent my mind into a mild panic. Though I sat still right in front of both of these men, and kept every hint of emotion beneath the perfect premise of a woman; saving my face for my own mirror. A confident smile spelled its way across my lips as I handed over both the bag and the sketchbook full of my designs. Oscar went in for his usual hug, but instead was met with a firm handshake and a warm gaze. The same was given to Elie as I knew far too well what would follow the endearing touch of a hug. You could tell by the way I remained rather detached from the exit that there was a story looming in the depths of my mind, and perhaps haunting the trenches of my heart. Before I knew it, I was standing outside the glass doors, fingers shaking in the memory that deemed itself important enough to shroud my accomplishment. Every goddamn dress was completed from my side of the sketchbook. Every pin was perfectly placed, and everything was exactly how I wanted it, but yet here I stood with the weight of what felt like the entire ocean on my small form. I was drowning. Was this going to be a continual hindrance in my life? Would I always be plagued with the hurt and fear that riddled its way through each and every bone in my body? Looks like it’s time to shut yourself off from both mind and heart, Alice. Time to go void. Fuck emotions, right? E x a c t l y. Broken glass crashed to the ground only seconds before, and now? — 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

In A Blur

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner

Word Count: 1,431

Warnings: minor angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Spencer is by your side when you get shot on the job.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me. if your tag doesn’t work three times in a row (three stories i post in a row) then I will be removing you.

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“FBI!” you yelled as you rushed into the unsub’s apartment, your gun trained in front of you professionally. Morgan and Reid were behind you as you went in one direction and they in another.

“Clear!” Morgan yelled when he finished scoping out a room.

“Clear!” Reid followed right behind him. The room you were in must have been the kitchen, and it was a complete mess. Dishes were piled in the sink, all of the dirty, and it looked like the unsub hadn’t cleaned at all, if not ever. There was only one window in the kitchen, and it was open, allowing the curtain to flow as the wind blew in. Morgan and Reid walked to the kitchen to see if you were safe when you walked over to the window and peered outside. The fire escape was the only way out, and when you looked down, you could clearly see the unsub trying to escape through that.

“There he is! He’s trying to escape! I’ll go down here and you cut him off through the alley in the back!” you ordered as you escaped. Without waiting for agreements from your coworkers, you rushed down the stairs, trying to take a shot whenever you could. The man was good at running, and he seemed to evade every attempt at you shooting him. Reid and Morgan rushed out of the house without another word, worried that you were going to get hurt if they didn’t show up on time.

“Tyler! Stop!” you yelled when he hit the ground. As quick as you possibly could, you made it down to the bottom before running at him. The heels you were wearing made it almost impossible for you to gain speed, so you kicked them off as you ran which gave you the momentum you were looking for. Tyler ran as quick as he could into the alley, and you hoped that Morgan and Reid were there to arrest him.

As soon as you rounded the corner, Tyler held a gun to your chest before shooting two rounds. He didn’t aim very well, and your bulletproof vest stopped the first bullet from entering your chest, but the second one was much lower, and it managed to go through the vest and into your stomach. Your whole body froze as pain spread through it like crazy. You couldn’t seem to move because you were scared if you did, you go crumbling to the ground.

He smirked at your reaction before putting the gun at his throat. Reid rounded the corner from the other side of the alley and yelled as Tyler shot himself. He must have thought it is better to die than have the police catch him for his crimes. Spencer ran to the man as he fell to the ground to see if he could find a pulse, but he knew that wouldn’t be likely.

The man who was trying to save the criminal was the love of your life. As soon as you got shot, your whole life flashed before your eyes, and all you saw was Spencer. The way he made you laugh, how he put you first before anything else, and how he cared for you every second of the day. He made you laugh when you wanted to cry, made you feel worth it when your depression was at its worse and made you feel beautiful when you had sweats and no makeup on. He was the best boyfriend a woman could ask for, and you didn’t know if you would even see tomorrow. It was a miracle that you were still standing, but you could tell from how wobbly your knees were, that you would fall at any second.

“Spencer?” you called out. Your voice seemed far away, but you had to say it.

“Yeah, are you okay?” he asked just as Morgan came from around the corner with the rest of the team.

“I just realized…” you started coughing up the blood that had made its way up to your throat, “that I’ve been shot.”

“Y/N!” he yelled as he scrambled to get up just as you crumbled to the ground.

“Officer down! We need a medic!” he yelled at the rest of his team. Hotch was already on the phone as the rest of the team came rushing to you. Spencer yanked off your bulletproof vest before pressing his hands against your wound. The vest absorbed most of the blood, but with it gone it was free to gush.

“Spencer,” you gasped as more blood came out of your mouth.

“I need you to keep your eyes open for me, Y/N. Please stay awake,” he begged as tears fell from his eyes.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered as your eyes began rolling to the back of your head. Your eyes slid shut despite Spencer yelling your name. Everything happened in a blur; running after the unsub, getting shot, and feeling like you were dying.

Maybe you were.

Maybe you did.

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

Spencer could not stop pacing the emergency room while he waited for you to get out of surgery. After you had closed your eyes, he didn’t want to think about what might happen if you died. He hoped that the surgery went well as they gave you blood, nutrients, and to get the bullet out of your stomach. He had been pacing while the rest of the BAU team watched.

“Spencer, maybe you want to--”

“No, I’m not leaving,” he cut Morgan off.

“She’s going to be alright,” JJ said in a calming voice.

“Yeah, I know she will be,” he said mostly for himself. Due to his eidetic memory, he couldn’t get the event out of his mind, and he realized it will be locked in there for as long as he shall live. Spencer bit his nails in nervousness despite you always telling him he shouldn’t do it. He couldn’t calm his racing mind as he thought about what you were going through right now.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the doctor asked once he came to the waiting room. Spencer was immediately by his side as the rest of his team joined him. The doctor didn’t look very happy, and his heart stopped in fear of the bad news.

“Is she alright? I’m her boyfriend. Please tell me she’s going to be okay,” he pleaded with the doctor.

“She is going to be fine. We got the bullet out, and she’s resting right now. Fortunately for her, the bullet didn’t hit any major organs, but her recovery process will be long. The bullet was lodged next to her spine, so I don’t want her walking, even with crutches. She will mostly spend days in bed except for bathroom breaks, showers, and to stretch her legs every few hours. She will need someone with her to help with those things.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do everything. Can we see her?” Spencer asked with a breath of relief.

“Yes. She’s groggy, so I don’t know how much you’ll get to say, but she’s awake,” the doctor nodded. Spencer and his friends followed the doctor to your room, and he was the first one in. When you heard the door open, you sleepily watched the love of your life walk in with your best friends. Spencer was immediately by your side, grabbing the hand that had your IV in it.

“Spencer,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Don’t talk, okay? You’re going to be okay.”

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked as Derek walked to your other side and smoothed down your hair.

“Tired. Sore. Hungry.”

“She won’t be able to eat anything for a while. I need her blood pressure to get up as well as her iron levels. Once that happens, she will be able to eat,” the doctor informed everyone.

“I’m staying with her here,” Spencer declared as he pulled up a chair next to your bed.

“I think that’s a good idea. The rest of us have paperwork to do. We’ll be back in the morning,” Hotch spoke as the rest shuffled out. “Oh, and Spencer, you need to get some sleep.”

“He can sleep here,” you offered groggily.

“Okay,” he nodded before leaving you and your boyfriend alone.

“I should have been there for you,” Spencer started to blame himself, but you cut him off.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiled tearfully before kissing the back of your hand. You knew your recovery process will be a long one, but with Spencer by your side, you could get through it.

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

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[one-piece-dumpster-fire]

A nsfw scenario of biscuit daddy and mochi reaction to their s/o ask if they can watch them to touch themselves to get better at pleasing them >/////

Oh.MAH GOD. I’m literally living for this so much??? Like, this is kindof one of my kinks xD? Ehhhhh lol ANYWAY here comes my second try at two smol filth scenarios!!! Hope you enjoy and there is nothing but dirt under the cut xD! (Update: the cut doesn’t work??? Ayayayay I’m so sorry!)

….when you’re watching them please themselves- dirty scenarios

Biscuitdaddy (Charlotte Cracker)

„Haaaah?Did I hear that right, princess?“

Awide, lecherous grin immediately started to form on his lips asCracker held your quivering form in his arms, while a huge red blush wasburning on your cheeks as you averted your gaze back to the groundand fumbled around with the straps of your top, which your boyfriendhad already started to tug down.

„I,uhm, I mean you don’t have to, of course! I just thought that… itcould help me with understanding how to properly please you…“

youmuttered as panic and embarrassment spread through the entirety ofyour body. Once again you had found yourself in the confinement ofCracker’s office, at first only to pay him a visit and bring oversome muffins you had baked for him, but within seconds you foundyourself sitting on his desk once more, with your boyfriend suckingand nibbling on your sensitive neck. Everything seemed to play out asusual, when suddenly a thought crossed your mind- something you hadwanted to ask him for quite a while now, but never really found agood opportunity to do so. Well and maybe this wasn’t the right timeeither, after all he seemed totally caught offguard, and gosh what ifhe thinks you are some sort of dirty pervert now and-

„Alright(Y/N). I’m gonna masturbate for you.“

„E-ehhhhh?!?!“

…and nowit was your turn to be caught offguard by the sudden bluntness of hisreply, and for a moment you lifted your head a bit and came face toface with that huge, toothy grin you knew oh so well. „I-I-,“ youstuttered, unable to form a sentence, and with a low chuckle Crackerpushed you back onto the table before leaning into his chair whilefumbling around with his belt.

„Mhhh,since you want me to put on a show for you, I’ll gladly do so~!Anything to help you get better at pleasing me, my shy little flower.“

hegrinned as his pants- and soon after, boxers- hit the ground andrevealed his already semi-erect manhood, which seemed eager as alwaysto greet you.

Aloud gasp escaped from your throat as you slowly sat up to get abetter look at what was going on, but the blush on your cheek justincreased as Cracker slowly put a hand around his member. God, youcan’t- this is, this is all weird and… what the hell did you getyourself into?!?!

„Nowwhat I want you to do is watch closely. If I see your pretty eyes onanything but my sword, there will be some punishment, understood?“he purred as his hand slowly started to pump up and down, „this wasyour idea after all, so I won’t let you off the hook now!“

Ashudder went through your body as his words settled in your ears, anda scared yet oddly excited feeling began to spread in your lowerabdomen. Unable to form any words, you simply nodded your head inagreement, which caused Cracker’s grin to widen even more. „Now,what you wanna do is start like this…“ he continued as if thiswas just like a normal lesson at school, as his fingertips suddenlystarted to seemingly dance around his manhood, softly touching it invarious spots which caused him to groan softly. Was he teasinghimself…?

„Youdon’t want to start with the real thing right away my love, first yougotta get me in the mood…“

Crackerpurred once more as he pressed a finger to his tip, which caused ashudder to run down both his and your spine.

„Hah,hah… usually it takes a bit longer, but I’m not used to anaudience, especially one that sexy, so things might move a bitfast…“ he admitted and swallowed softly with what seemed to be anapologetic smile on his lips as he held his almost fully erectmanhood in his hand now.

Hisother hand was resting behind his head which almost caused him tolook like he was relaxing, or being casual about doing somethingso… raunchy right infront of your big, innocent eyes. But by now youmanaged to adapt to the situation a bit, and although the blushwas still prominent on your cheeks, your gaze was no longer trying toavoid exactly what he was doing, and instead completely focussed onhis manhood as if you were studying it itensly like some newlydiscovered entity.

Crackernoticed that as well and couldn’t help but laugh at your oddlyfascinated stare before he started to rub along his member at arather fast and firm pace. Various groans and moans escaped from histhroat in the process, and you could see the sweat that was startingto form on his forehead and ran down his face.

„Hngh…do me a favor and pull that top down a bit, princess…“ hesuddenly hissed in a hoarse voice, and that demand immediatelycaused you to shudder in suprise.

„M-mh…okay…“ but you immediately gave in and slowly started to lift the top over yourhead before carefully putting it down next to you on his desk, withyour lacy black bra now revealed to his hungry eyes.

„Ah,my favorite one!“ Cracker hummed as his trademark grin reappeared once again and a small trail of drool started to form in the corner of hismouth, „did you plan to suprise me today~? Hah, how considerate!“he moaned and pumped faster and faster, his eyes fixated entirely onyour cleavage. „hehehe… your marshmallows look exceptionallytasty today! Perhaps I could earn myself a taste later?“ Crackerwhispered in a low voice, and now he wasn’t the only one gettingsweaty anymore. You pushed your thighs together and started to softlychew on your bottom lip as he continued pleasuring himself.

„There,and then you gotta pump it like this…“ he groaned and started tojerk his manhood with newfound vigor, when a sudden idea suddenly poppedinto your mind.

Hedidn’t even notice that you had left the desk and were now just astep away, his mind and whole body was just too focussed on theincredible feeling running through his veins. Oh this felt way betterthan the other times he did it by himself, it seemed like having younear simply had an extra bewitching effect on him…

„Uhm,like this…?“ 

His ears immediately perked up at the sound of yoursoft voice coming from between his legs, and with eyes widened insuprise Cracker looked down, only to find you right there, strokingalong his length with one of your hands just like he was still doing.There was less vigor in your movements, but it still felt just asintense as the rough treatment he was giving himself. It took amoment for him to realize that this wasn’t really a weird pre-orgasmfantasy, and his usual grin immediately appeared back on hislips.

„Yeah,like that baby…“ he moaned and slowly pulled his hand away to letyou take over. He could feel the clumsiness and uncertainty in yourtouch, but with an encouraging nod he signaled you to keep going.

Shit,this felt good, way too good, plus the sight of you between his legslike this was simply too much to handle….

„HYYYYAAAARGHHHH!“Cracker yelled all of a sudden, which caused you to wince back insuprise, and a moment later something hot and sticky hit your cheek.„Ouch, what the-OOOWWW!“ you shouted as his hot seed suddenly hityou in the eye, which caused a burning sensation to spread throughyour body.

„Owthat stings, that stings so bad…“ you whimpered and tried to wipethe semen out of your eyes, as Cracker was collapsing back into hischair, now heavily breathing but with a large and satisfied smirk onhis lips.

„That…was amazing, darling.“ he chuckled, still completely unaware of theirritating situation you were in right now, the afterglow was simplytoo effective.

„Ohbaby, we gotta do that again soon…“

Charlotte Katakuri

„Hm?You want what now?“

thedonut Katakuri was holding close to his mouth slowly started tocrumble as his grip around it tightened, his eyes widened withsuprise and a brow raised in your direction. He must have heardwrong. Yeah, definitely- the sound of him gulping down his favoritetreat overshadowed what you had just said, and his mind somehowpieced together something odd, something you would never ask,something-

„Uhm…I… I would like to see you touch yourself, please…“

-impossible.

Thedonut in his hands immediately broke apart, his face now flushed andyour tall boyfriend slowly chewed on the remaining chunks in hismouth before swallowing hard. He avoided looking at your face, whichyou were more than grateful for because your cheeks were on fire, andyour mouth was quivering in embarrassment.

„You…you want to watch me touch myself?“

Herepeated with a slightly more calm voice, and after his initiateshock Katakuri turned to look at you, his eyes unusually soft and asmall glint of confusion reflected in them. Huh, he almost lookedlike an innocent child who just got asked to clean the dishes orsomething, but there was also that understanding spark in his eyeswhich told you that he at least wasn’t mad or anything of that kind.

„I,I just want to get get better at pleasing you… I always feel likeI’m doing  something wrong, so… I was kind of hoping that you couldshow me…“ you whimpered and shook your head in discomfort, ohthis was going terrible. Talking to him during his Merienda was aterrible idea in general and you should have known that, especially sinceKatakuri is always just focussed on gulping down his delicioussnacks, but there simply wasn’t any other place that would give youthis privacy with your boyfriend. Plus, this was the one genuine timeof the day when he let out his cute little goofy side, so you weregambling on the hope that he might have taken it more lightly… well thatdidn’t seem to work however.

Butsuddenly, a loud sigh tore through the silence and you could hear theclinging sound of his boots as Katakuri was stepping closer to yoursmall body. You shifted in your mochi made seat, a look of discomfortall over your face. Was he going to scold you now? Will everythingturn even more awkward then it already was…? You quickly shook yourhead and gulped before trying to find the right words. Maybe therewas still a chance that you could make him forget about this whole thing…

„Katakuri,I-“

thud.

Beforeyou could even start properly, a large donut piece was suddenly dropped intoyour lap, which immediately caused you to jerk upwards in suprise.There he was, looming over you, his eyes focussed on a spot on yourright and- was that red hue on his cheeks… A blush?!

„Here,hold onto this for me. And don’t make any funny noises, okay?“

Katakurimuttered in an unusually low tone, before he turned back around andwalked over to the spot where he had been ravishing donuts just a fewmoments ago. With a quick move of his hands he opened his belt andtossed it aside, before slowly letting his tight leather pants slidedown.

You held onto the donut piece as your gaze was focussed on hisblack, striped boxers but much to your suprise there was nothinggoing on in there. Not even a small bulge.

„…..don’tlook yet, I need to get it hard first!“ Katakuri suddenly gruntedas he noticed your glance, the red on his cheek getting more and moreprominent in the meantime. You simply gave him a weak nod beforelooking up at the ceiling of his selfmade mochi shrine, almost as ifyou were studying the edible architecture now.

Yourboyfriend of course wasted no time and closed his eyes as he startedto calm himself down. He was never really one for masturbation, andthe fact that you were there, sitting across from him, didn’t helpone bit. But instead of giving into the despair, Katakuri simplydecided to blend everything out and focus on naughty thoughts. Ormore specifically- you, lying under him as a moaning and whimperingmess, begging for him to let you cum as he was once again ‘punishing’you for your previously dirty behaviour…

Alow sigh escaped from his mouth as he could feel his manhood comingto life. And after spending a few more moments in his dream scenario,Katakuri nodded and opened his eyes before signaling you that it wasokay to look.

„Iwill begin now.“ he announced and started to place a hand againstthe tent that had formed in his boxer, a relieved hum leaving hislips as he started to massage his manhood through the thin fabric.Katakuri still didn’t look at you, he knew it would just throw himoffguard, so the only thing he focussed on was groping and squeezinghis member. But not after long, just feeling himself through theboxers wasn’t enough and the tall man quickly stripped out of them,which immediately caused his erect manhood to spring free withexcitement.

„A-Ah…“you quickly pressed a hand against your mouth as the small noise ofheated curiosity escaped your lips, and quickly averted your eyesfrom his hard member, desperately hoping that he didn’t notice it…

Katakurihowever did notice. Of course he did. And for some reason, hecouldn’t help but smirk at how curious, almost hungrily, you wereeyeing his erection just a moment ago. A new wave of desire floodedthrough his body as his hand slowly resumed to doing what it hadpreviously done, but this time without any fabric in the way.

Lowand throaty grunts started to escape from his mouth as the Commandertried to stay as quiet as possible, but the more his hand massagedhis member, the more difficult it was getting. Soon enough he had to switchfrom simple stroking and fondling to straight out starting to pumphis length, as the desire in him continued to build.

Bynow you were holding onto the donut piece as if it was the only thingthat kept you sitting on the ground, otherwise this oddly eroticdisplay might catapult you into a place unknown to mankind. Your pinktongue quickly darted out to sweep over your suprisingly dry lips,and a small drop of sweat was running down your neck. Did seeing yourboyfriend masturbate really have such a strong effect on you aswell…?

„(Y/N)….“

yes,it had. As soon as Katakuri growled out your name it felt like yourcheeks weren’t the only things on fire anymore, and you had to resistthe strong urge to reach between your legs to confirm if that placewas as slick as it felt right now.

Hecontinued to growl your name, and was getting progressively louder inthe process. For some reason, have you next to him like this,watching as he was doing something so sinful… just awoke a desiredeep within him to punish you for even suggesting something sofilthy in the first place… perhaps he should be calling you over, demanding you to help him get out ofthis situation you basically put him in and-

„I…I’m here.“

Eyeswidened in suprise as your soft whisper reached his ear, sounding soclose, so touchable, as if he just had to reach and-

„Iwant to help, uhm, if it’s okay with you of course!“

-thereyou were. Right there next to him, with big eyes staring at hismanhood almost hungrily, but with an innocent spark of curiosity aswell. That sight alone almost caused him to cum right there and rightnow, his hands pumping at such a fast pace that it almost made himfeel like he was tearing off his own member, but upon seeing you andyour desire to touch him, he immediately slowed down until his handscome to a total stop.

„Iwas just going to suggest for you to help me.“ Katakuri mused witha low chuckle and immediately released his manhood from his grip,which allowed you to take matters into your own hands. Literally.

„Uhm,let’s see…. you did it like this…“

Your shaky voice reminded the tall man of a gentle breeze, something so lightand comforting… Katakuri couldn’t help but release a content hum asyou clumsily started to repeat his movements, your hands pumping onhis rock hard manhood at a nice and slow speed. Of course you neededboth of your hands to just grasp around his manhood, and rubbing his entirelength felt more like a workout than a quick handjob, but yourdetermination and desire to please him made you push that aside asyou continued working.

„Mh…. (Y/N)… prepare yourself…” Katakuri suddenly groaned as he felt his passion build up more and more, and it was getting almost impossible to control…

“I will let go now!” he announced with a deep growl, and just a moment later his hot semen squirted from his tip and against, the ceiling, almost like a fountain which caused you to wince back.

It didn’t take long for him to empty himself, and once his essence was starting to drip back down Katakuri turned to the side, grabbing your small body with a low growl which caused you to gasp in suprise as he placed you right ontop of his chest.

“Now, my dear (Y/N)… as for your punishment…”