#on the other hand i know that i have people following me that know way more about the French Wars of Religion and the Huguenots than i do

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Nadezh' Interview

Summary: After Nadezh previous identity as the Firebreather, notorious Supervillain, was revealed, she thought she’d lose everything. She’s never been so happy to be wrong.

You can read Nadezh' first story (HERE)

--------------------------.

It’s decided that Nadezh will work in the finance department of Hero Force. She hates to leave her civilian job and her coworkers seeing the success of her budget fully bloom, but the other option is wearing the power suppressors 24/7, and their power frequency vibrates through her engagement ring in a way that reminds her of a bee buzzing, and she won’t take the ring off so.

The interview is a formality but they make her do it anyway. She prepares for it over the course of seven days, making Gannon rehearse every hypothetical question with her until the last minute.

Until the last minute meaning on the drive to Hero Force for the interview.

“There is a discrepancy in the packaging budget,” Gannon reads. He’s used to her driving and doesn’t flinch when she merges too quickly, and a chorus of Chicago drivers chastise her loudly. “There is a flat rate for three different sizes of package. According to the average order value and average product mix, packaging should be $3.5k—Nadezh, Hero Force doesn’t have a commerce division, I don’t think this is necessary.”

Nadezh knows the rest of this question. What steps would you take to reconcile actual and planned? “Of course, there’s the option to conduct a forensic audit, however—”

“We do have a forensic finance department,” Gannon concedes, “but that’s not—”

“—first would be to observe the whole packaging process. While there is a flat rate for all three package sizes that doesn’t mean all orders are being packaged for efficiency—”

Gannon reaches for her knee, thinks better of it, considering her foot on the gas pedal, and diverts to her shoulder. He squeezes, and all of the tension in her back magically eases. “Babe. You’re already overqualified. You’re going to do great.”

They’ve already had this argument, so Nadezh doesn’t say Overqualified? It’s amazing they’re even letting me into a Hero Force building, I could be the President and I still wouldn’t be qualified considering my past. Instead, she says, “Right. Right, thanks. You’re right. Right.”

“Right,” Gannon says seriously.

“Right,” she says and takes the next exit.

“Riiiiiiight.”

By the time they pull into the parking garage, Nadezh is laughing at the increasingly bizarre ways Gannon says the word right. The word barely has meaning anymore, and she’s fairly certain that if anyone else heard Hero Zone sounding so goat-like, they’d send him to psych for an evaluation.

Nadezh gets out of the car first, hurrying before he can say anything else that will set her off.

“Go save the day,” she says. Her face hurts from smiling. She tosses him the keys over the roof of the car after she closes the door. “I can get the train back.”

Gannon rounds the bumper and presses them back into her hand. He kisses her forehead. “No public transport from HQ.”

She blinks, the spot his lips touched tingling. “Is that a rule?”

“Our house rule,” Gannon says. He smiles reassuringly at her. “Just a precaution. I know too many people who get made getting followed out of HQ.”

Gannon always explains himself even though she never asks. Her heart is racing at our house rules. They have house rules. They’re engaged. They’re going to get married. She lifts her chin for a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses her.

Kissing Gannon is the closest she feels to her powers these days. The warmth that runs through her, the heat in her cheeks, the pounding of her heart – actually she takes it back. It’s not like her power at all. It’s better than her power.

“Break it up!” a man calls from across the parking garage.

Electricity shoots through Nadezh. She didn’t hear him come up behind her. She tries to pull away from Gannon, to turn and protect them, but his hands on her shoulders stop her. Her brain catches up a moment later. Gannon is relaxed, warm brown eyes still happy. The voice is familiar.

“It’s not goodbye yet,” another voice says grumpily. This time Nadezh recognizes the speaker. When her tension eases, Gannon lifts his hands long enough for her to turn and greet Flare. He drapes his arms over Nadezh’s shoulders. Flare’s eye twitches. “There’s, like, a whole elevator ride to go.”

“There’s cameras in the elevator,” Gannon says.

Nadezh still doesn’t know what to make of Gannon’s Hero team. Omit – the leader of the team – is decent. Fast, sound decisions on the field, always knows when to retreat, which is important when your team is made of B and C-rank heroes.  His power – to eliminate an object from the enemy’s perception during battle – makes her uneasy. Despite his openness with her, she can’t erase the suspicion that he’s using his powers on her from her mind.

She likes Flare. The woman is bright and bubbly, almost six inches shorter than Nadezh, with all the energy of a hummingbird. Though she’s stationed on Gannon’s team, she’s in high demand across the city. There aren’t many fliers out there, and although her dragonfly wings aren’t exactly subtle, she’s fast enough and strong enough to conduct recon across Lake Michigan. Flare keeps Gannon safe when he’s out saving the world. Nobody sneaks up on them with her around.

Mostly.

“Us singles are feeling left out,” Omit says and tries to drape an arm over Flare’s shoulders.

Flare flits away. “Interview today?” she asks Nadezh.

“Right,” Nadezh says.

Gannon’s burst of surprised laughter lasts all the way to Nadezh’s floor where he waves goodbye breathlessly.

Even with his mask obstructing the crow’s feet she loves, Nadezh savors the memory of his joy all the way to her interview.

----.

Agent Briston isn’t like any other agent Nadezh has ever seen. He’s in his sixties, round, bald, and wearing a sweater vest under his regulation suit jacket. She thinks there’s a reason agents like him are kept out of sight. He looks like an easy target—no. She doesn’t think about people as targets anymore. She means that he looks like the grandfather in a commercial about watches, the one who takes the vintage watch off of his own wrist to wrap it around the grandson’s with an air of gravity.

“This interview isn’t a guarantee, despite your…recommendations,” Agent Briston says the moment Nadezh sits down. His desk has nothing but a computer, a notepad, and a pen. Somehow the harried look on his face makes it seem cluttered with paper. “We don’t have the budget for many staff. We need to be selective.”

Nadezh resists the urge to pull at the Hero Force regulation mask on her face or the power suppressors around her wrists. Part of her agreement with Foresight was that she’d wear the cuffs whenever Gannon wasn’t with her. The blue glow feels ostentatious, and she hopes Agent Briston won’t turn her down based on them. “Understood, sir.”

“Briston,” Agent Briston says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Only the heroes call me sir. My staff calls me Briston.”

Nadezh nods. “I’m Nadezh Mel—”

“No last names, Nadezh,” Briston says. He pulls his glasses from a desk drawer and puts them on. He squints at his computer. “Now. Tell me.  Do you have accounting experience?”

“Yes, si—Briston.”

Briston’s thick white eyebrows raise and he abandons his computer to focus back on Nadezh. He seems skeptical. “Really?”

“I created the office budget for my last company,” Nadezh says. She has a better way to say this, she rehearsed this with Gannon— “My plan allowed for the purchase of new chairs and a copier.”

Briston stares at her. “You really have accounting experience.”

Did he not hear her? Or did she answer incorrectly? “I-I was also part of the team that allocated reinvestment funds—”

“Foresight’s recruits never have accounting experience.”

“—and payroll for over 500 employees—”

“Payroll!” Briston looks up at the ceiling. “She does payroll!”

“I—I’m sorry?” she says. She can’t read his tone. Is he disappointed or being sarcastic? She scrambles for her next interview answer. “I have a bachelor’s in accounting from Illinois State, but I plan to complete my master’s in the next five years—”

Briston makes a sound she’s only ever heard from frightened raccoons. “You’re hired,” Briston declares. He reaches over the desk to shake her hand. “I’ll draw up a counteroffer before noon.”

Confused, Nadezh shakes his hand. His grip is surprisingly strong. “Sir? The terms of my employment should already be in my file.” Foresight had made it clear she’d be starting at the bottom level of the pay scale.

“We aren’t paying my new director that,” Briston says. “We’ll start double that and see what they counter offer.”

“They? Aren’t you in charge of salary approvals?” Nadezh asks. Then, as his words sink in, “Director?!”

Briston beams at her. “Experience, a degree, and common sense! We’ll settle for 30% higher than the initial offer with a condition for an additional 10% at the next performance review.”

“Director,” Nadezh says. When Briston doesn’t answer, ignoring her in favor of typing feverishly, Nadesh says with surety, “You’re joking.”

Briston hums and doesn’t answer her.

“Right?”

----.

Briston isn’t joking.

Gannon takes a dazed Nadezh out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. The private room he reserves is in the back of a Japanese restaurant run by a former Superhero. There are flowers on the table, candles strategically placed around the room, soundproofing on the walls, and a chilled bottle of Nadezh's favorite white wine waiting. She processes all of this distantly. She makes Gannon read her employment contract between bites of sushi. Bemused, he dutifully announces her employed status and starting salary whenever she asks.

“Guess I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors about the department head,” Gannon says. Rather than surprised, his voice carries an element of relief. “You’re barely taking a salary cut with this.”

“Cut? This is a ten percent raise,” Nadezh hisses. She stares at her green tea. “Does Foresight know?” A jolt of sick fear floods with her. “I didn’t make Briston give me a raise, I swear!”

“Nadezh, of course you didn’t,” Gannon says. He reaches across the table to nudge at her clenched hands. Automatically, she unfurls them to reveal half-moon indents from her nails. He slides his palm against hers. “You deserve this.”

“But Foresight might think—”

“He won’t.” Gannon picks up his chopsticks with his left hand, content to let his right keep holding hers so that her dominant hand is free. He’s clumsier with them and frowns as he chases salmon roe around his plate. “Briston has almost unilateral say in the finance department. Nobody can sway him. He’s known for being short-tempered, cheap, and stubborn. I’m sure Foresight will just be grateful he finally hired someone.”

Nadezh narrows her eyes. ��You said you didn’t know the person interviewing me.”

“Oops?” Gannon finally catches the salmon roe under a bite of rice and pops it in his mouth. He chews innocently. “Did I?”

“Fess up.”

“It’s not like I know a lot. People say Briston fires more than he hires.” Gannon’s eyes shift to the side.  “Aaaand that he can be heard yelling whenever it’s time to calculate overtime expenses. Or whenever the armory submits their expense report. Or when the audit team comes back with city damage claims. Or when—”

Nadezh drops her head into her free hand, letting her long black hair hide her for a moment. She forgot that Hero Force accountants dealt with destroyed skyscrapers and medical leave for when you got your arms ripped off in a fight, not copiers and desk chairs. “You didn’t think to mention any of this before the interview?!”

“You were freaked out enough.” Gannon pauses in the way he does when he’s about to say what he’s really thinking so Nadezh doesn’t interrupt. She waits as he chews until he finally says, “I’m glad he bumped your salary. I was starting to feel guilty.”

Nadezh’s hand spasms around Gannon’s. “Guilty?”

“Yeah,” Gannon says. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I argued against making you leave your job. Said it made Hero Force the sort of organization everyone always accuses us of being. Overreaching and, well…cruel.”

“You didn’t tell me about that either.” Had he been thinking that this whole time? While she made him practice interview questions with her? Did he think she was forcing herself? The thought of Gannon feeling even a tenth of the gnawing guilt that lives inside her makes her want to throw up. Nadezh shakes her head and leans across the table. She’s glad for the private room and how it allows her to show him how his words affect her. “Babe, you don’t have anything—"

“I know how hard you worked for that job,” Gannon interrupts. He licks his lips. Now it’s his turn to stare at his tea. “Please, just…listen.”

Nadezh would do anything Gannon asked. She squeezes his hand again and fights the words bubbling up her throat like lava.

“We haven’t really talked since that day,” Gannon says. He’s a Hero; he makes himself look into her eyes. “I haven’t really talked. I’ve been afraid to. I know your past isn’t…isn’t good. I do. And I know that you don’t want to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist.”

She wants to, but she can’t. Like hunger and emptiness, she doesn’t think Gannon will ever understand the weight she carries from the harm she’s done. The screams she’d once reveled in now haunt her in ways she could never have guessed. But he’s talking to her, so she doesn’t explain. She listens.

“I feel like I’ve been making you give up everything for me,” Gannon confesses in a rush. He speaks faster as her eyes widen, like if he makes his sentences a big enough river, she won’t be able to dam it up. “Your first civilian job, your past, and your freedom to do whatever you want to do – because you could do anything, you really could – and even your powers.” He rubs his thumb over the underside of her wrist where the power suppressors sit during working hours. His face crumples. “Every morning, I will have to take you to put them on. It’s…I hate it. It feels like I’m abandoning you, or like I’m part of your punishment, or like I’m not being the partner you deserve.”

She starts, half rising from her seat. “Gannon! How could you—?”

His grip is strong on her hand, and he gestures for her to sit with a quick jerk of his chin. His eyes close tight. “Please, Nadezh.”

She quiets.

It takes him a long time to start speaking again. He remains quiet until he’s able to look her in the eyes again. “You…that day. The day you saved my and my team’s life.”

The day she thought her fairytale had come to an end. Even now, the memory of his blank eyes as she revealed the red and gold costume of the Firebreather, one of the world’s most notorious and deadly supervillains, follows her. The cold wind whipping across the ship’s deck, the pillars of ice gleaming in the sun, his team haltingly asking her if she was going to take over the boat…and his eyes. The pain that ripped through her when she realized she would lose him was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. It had made her realize that she’d been a shell for years until she met him, that she’d been nothing until he showed her a world where she could be someone. In that moment, she’d known that she’d wasted his time on a dead end. That their dream to get married would never be the same if it happened at all and she had robbed him in her greed.

But he remembers it as the day she saved his life rather than dooming his future.

“I became a hero to save people,” Gannon says. His lips thin. “How did I put it? That day at the diner? To share the relief of having the day saved.” His face twists in a way she can’t understand. “You must have thought I was so naïve.”

“No,” she says simply.

He raises their hands so he can kiss the back of hers. “Thank you. I think I was naïve. Being a hero seemed simple, looking at the world that way, like everyone wanted to be saved and, in turn, wanted to one day go on to save someone else. Every moment of salvation would get repaid. Good things would always happen to good people.”

Well, when he put it like that.

Gannon continues, “But when I saw you standing there, dressed as the Firebreather, being saved was…different. It was all different.” He swallows hard. “For the first time, I realized saving the day wasn’t so simple. You had to reveal your identity to do it. You had to put your freedom and everything you worked for on the sidelines. Even us. You were ready to do it even if it meant we never got the chance to be married. I could tell that you weren’t going to let that stop you. You were going to save the day.  Instead of being relieved, I felt afraid.”

A small noise of protest builds in Nadezh’s throat. “Afraid of me?”

“No!” Gannon’s eyes widen and he leans over the table. “No, never. Never, Nadezh. Even when that last fireball singed the toes of my boots, I didn’t flinch for a moment. I knew you would never hurt me.”

Nadezh’s laugh is watery. “So that’s why you threw out those boots.”

“Regulation is closed toe,” Gannon says gravely. He plays with her fingers. “I was afraid because I realized there was a cost that I wasn’t willing to pay, but you were.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Nadezh says.

“I know.” Gannon clears his throat and adjusts his grip on her hand so that he can feel her pulse against his thumb. “I know. I’m not saying that’s wrong.  Just…it was hard, wasn’t it?” His brown eyes search hers. “You knew before you even left the apartment to find me that you were going to lose everything.”

“But I didn’t,” Nadezh points out.

“But that’s what you thought.”

She can’t deny that.

“Saving the day is easy when it’s just a job,” Gannon says. “That day, I realized that I’d never really been a hero. It was a job, an important one, but not one that was going to take anything I wasn’t willing to give. That same job was the reason I let myself just stand there as Hero Force took you into custody. Like a coward. I hate myself for that moment.” His voice is raw with the admission. His free hand curls into a fist. “I should have run with you then.”

Nadezh barks a disbelieving laugh. It’s inappropriate, but the idea of Hero Zone, the most honorable hero in Chicago, running away with a supervillain is ridiculous. She hides her incredulity. “That’s—”

“I’m serious, Nadezh.” Gannon’s eyes burn through her, gaze unflinching. Her pulse jumps under his thumb. “I still think that. We could run now. Settle down somewhere and be civilians. Never show up on Hero Force radar again. Like Bonnie and Clyde hiding out from the law.”

“That’s not funny.” Try as she might, Nadezh can’t find any trace of humor on Gannon’s face. Her eyes dart around the room. When she can’t find any cameras, she leans forward and hisses, “Don’t even joke about that. You love being a hero.”

“I love being with you,” Gannon says. This time when he smiles the mole under his eye disappears with the force of it. “I told you, all I want is to marry you. No job will ever be worth more than that. So…” His smile wavers for a moment before he fixes it in place. “What do you say? Will you run away with me?”

Fuck. Her mind leaps ahead. They could get a place in the mountains. She knows how much Gannon misses his hometown on the East Coast. His family has long since disappeared from those ridges and valleys, but she can see him there, facing the sun with his arms held over his head in triumph. A field sprawled out below him blooms with green and a house sits just beyond that with a gently smoking chimney. Could she belong there too? With him?

Gannon mistakes her silence. “You wouldn’t have to wear the power suppressors ever again or worry about Briston yelling or what Hero Force will make you do. It could be just you and me like we always imagined. Together.”

Is he pleading with her? Begging her to say yes?

There will always be a part of her that wants to. The greedy and selfish part that wants to keep him all to herself, like the doll in her childhood that unraveled at the seams after only a month. The part of her that could hide him away is familiar. Too familiar.

“No.”

Gannon’s face falls. “No?”

“Not because I don’t want us,” she assures. Somehow, she feels lighter. Is this what’s been sitting silently between them this whole time? She could laugh. “I do. But I think you’re misunderstanding something. You’re not the reason why I’m cooperating with Hero Force.” She thinks over her words and then rephrases. “You’re not the only reason.”

“I’m not?” Gannon backtracks. “I mean, it’s not a problem if I’m not, but I thought…well. I thought given what you said in the interrogation room…”

“You will always be the love of my life,” Nadezh says. She finds the words as she says them. She’s had a lot of time to think about this – Gannon is not the first one to think what it’d be like to run away. “That will never change. It’s just…” Private room, she reminds herself. No one will be able to hear. She confesses, “I want to change. I don’t want to be the Firebreather anymore.”

“You’re not!”

Keep him, no one can stop you, power suppressors barely work once we really get up to temperature—Nadezh stops those thoughts firmly in their tracks. “There are parts of me that still are. I was afraid when I revealed who I was, but since then look how far I’ve come. You know all of me and you’re still here.” She lets her wonder and hope leak into her voice. Some mornings she wakes up to him by her side and can’t fathom how the universe let someone with hands as stained as hers have something so good. “I have a job. I have a way to give back for all the harm I caused. I…I think confronting my past has given me a chance to grow like I haven’t done before. A year ago, I couldn’t even accept the proposal from the man I love more than life itself. Now? I know that I can walk into work every day and have those power suppressors put on me by Hero Force -not you - and I can hold my head high.”

“Not me? Nadezh, I’m your containment,” Gannon says. His expression is tortured in the candlelight. “You say it’s Hero Force, but it’s me. I’m the one holding you back. Foresight said that Firebreather was sufficiently contained by my side, he awarded me custody—”

“Are you feeling guilty over that?” Nadezh’s mouth drops open. “Gannon, seriously?”

“I feel like I’m choosing to be your captor over being your fiancé,” Gannon says.

“Just like how you knew I would never hurt you, I know you would never hurt me. I wouldn’t even have to use my powers. I know the second I didn’t want to put those cuffs on, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m still—”

“No.” Nadezh won’t allow any room for confusion here. “Gannon. Stop. I am the one choosing to do this. That day I gave you a choice, remember? I said that you could walk away and I would be—” fine is a strong word “—I would understand. I was going to keep the memory of us agreeing to get married and let you walk away.”

There’s gravel in Gannon’s voice. He reaches across the table to capture her other hand. “I would never change my mind.”

“I believe you.” He was patient with her, waiting for her to believe it. She holds his hands back. “I believe you. So here’s what I’m asking. You gave me a choice just now. Stay or run away. Please believe me when I say I want to stay.”

“Even if it means I have to be your captor?” he asks, anguished.

She nearly snaps at the question. Isn’t he listening to what she’s saying? His tone stills her. She studies him. His eyes are teary, and she can feel his hands tremble in hers. “This really bothers you.”

He nods wordlessly.

She tries to put herself in his shoes. She imagines that he’s working as a henchman who used to be a hero. She imagines putting cuffs on him before work every day, knowing that he’d be helpless if the Villain ever decided to turn on him—She winces. “Maybe we can ask Omit to put on the cuffs instead?”

“I…we could try that,” Gannon says after a long moment. He breathes in through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Then, “I really ruined this celebration dinner, huh?”

She snorts. Both of their eyes are red and swollen despite neither of them crying. “This is about how most of my celebration dinners have gone. Better, actually. Nobody is screaming and nothing’s on fire.”

“Yet,” Gannon says.

“See? There’s still hope.” They’ve been talking for so long that her wine is warm. She grimaces as she swallows. “Hey, captor? I think it’s time you took me to a secondary location.”

“That’s not funny.” Despite his words, Gannon’s lips twitch as he stands and pushes in his chair. “I’m really upset about that.”

Nadezh follows him to the door. She caresses his shoulder, ostensibly checking him for dust, but really needing the contact. “Should I comfort you?”

Gannon drops back to put his arm around her shoulders. “Hmmm, keep talking.”

“I think I have Stockholm syndrome—”

“I change my mind. No more talking.”

Nadezh laughs. “Riiiight.”

It’s not perfect. Nadezh knows that the conversation isn’t over. There’s a guardedness in Gannon she’s never seen before when talking about Hero Force. He doesn’t believe her, not yet. But that’s okay.

She’ll be around to convince him.

(Except for 9am-5pm Monday through Friday. She somehow doesn’t think Briston would take kindly to a hero responsible for flooding the docks every other week hanging around the office.)

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and what I do, please consider checking out my Patreon where I post all sorts of pieces earlier than I do on Tumblr!

Next week I have the continuation of my Cinderella retelling going up there first and then here later in March. You can read Cinderella here (Tumblr X) (PatreonX)

Patreon(X)

[inseobts]

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it in.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

previous work (hq boys take you to a party) | next work

[juniperskye]

Stolen Moment

Based on the following ask: I was thinking it was Hotch and the reader's wedding but it's kind of loud and crowded and although the reader is no doubt excited to spend the rest of her life with Hotch the idea of the party didn't appeal very much because finds that type of event a bit difficult. So, she just hides but he knows where he can find her so he goes and sees her sitting in a corner with all her beautiful dress fluttering around her and he offers to skip the party and she just tells him ‘They’re here for us, it would be rude' but he really doesn't care, the only thing he wanted was for her to be his wife. I had to shorten the ask since it was a bit long, but I truly love this request – My wedding was lowkey because I knew I couldn’t handle a big wedding either.

Aaron Hotchner x Wife! Fem Reader Fluff Word count: 1645

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, reader has anxiety, wedding, wedding type content, feeling overwhelmed, Hotch being the best ever, mention of Jack, pet names, mentions of food and eating, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“And for the first time, I’d like to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner!” The DJ shouted into the mic, the crowd erupting in cheers.

Aaron and you made your way into the reception hall, hands joined as he raised them up above you, effectively showing you off to all your family and friends. Aaron turned you around, pulling you back into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. Everyone continued cheering for the two of you, joyous to be a part of such a special occasion.

--

The day had been so incredible, everything you could have ever asked for. You had done a private first look, the only witness was your photographer. After the first look you took photos with the wedding party before having the ceremony.

Your ceremony had been short and sweet, with Dave being the officiant, you’d been able to customize the entirety of it. He’d been amazing and personalized it to suit you and Aaron well. After the ceremony ended, Aaron and you stepped away for a private moment, signing your marriage license…but there had been another surprise, you’d also be signing the adoption papers to gain legal custody of Jack. The three of you shared a special moment, full of tears, joy and most importantly, love.

You then went on to take photos with your family and then Aaron, Jack and you took some photos as a family as well as just the two of you as a couple. The location your photographer had chosen was truly spectacular, it had been this lovely grove, the trees blooming with little white flowers, the grass green and lush. It had been perfect.

--

The reception had been scheduled meticulously:

Cocktail Hour (during photos)

Grand Entrance

First Dance

Dinner

Toasts

Dancing

Cake Cutting

Bouquet Toss

Grand Exit

You’d just had your first dance, to a slowed version of The Beatles I Will. Aaron had always been a big fan of the White Album, and that song seemed to be a perfect choice for your dance. Afterwards, you were happy to finally sit and eat, the constant interruption of family and friends coming up to you to offer congratulations and well wishes had been a little overwhelming, but overall, you were doing alright.

Aaron had kept his hand placed somewhere on you the whole night; clasped within yours, pressed to the small of your back, caressing your cheek or neck, or resting on your thigh like right now for instance. He did this to keep you grounded, he knew that this was a lot for you, having so many people around you, but more so the way they crowded the two of you, not leaving any room to breathe.

--

The toasts were planned, you had agreed that you didn’t want to do an open mic for toasts because that often took too long and you didn’t need any embarrassing stories shared in front of everyone. So, the only toasts that were expected were that of your sister, who was your maid of honor, and Dave, who was the officiant…but also technically a second-best man. Jack being the first of course.

What you hadn’t been expecting was Aaron to step up and give a speech of his own.

“I want to start this off by thanking everyone for being here with us on such a special day. For those of you that know us, well you know that I was down pretty badly from the beginning. She had me wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it. As our friendship grew, so did my love for her. I thought for a while that I was going to have to settle for being her friend because I needed her in my life one way or another. But then, she came up to me after months of, what I now know was mutual, pining and she said, “if you’re not going to ask me out, then I’ll just ask you.” That was the moment I knew I was going to marry you sweetheart. You aren’t afraid to call me out when it’s needed, you know how to break down my walls and comfort me through hardships, you make me laugh until my stomach hurts, and you have made me smile more in these last few years, than some people do in a lifetime. Jack and I are so very lucky to have you in our lives and I am honored to have become your husband here today. I love you so much sweetheart.”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your smile grew. Your guests clapped, many of them wiping their own eyes. Aaron always knew what to say, he had a way with words that overwhelmed you…he was able to say exactly what he was feeling, and you wished you could afford the same luxury. Unfortunately, the words didn’t always come so easily to you. You were able to express yourself in other ways though.

--

The DJ welcomed your guests to the dancefloor, you had been making your rounds greeting people and catching up with some friends when it all sort of hit you…all at once. It was loud and crowded and your dress was starting to feel hot and heavy.

After attempting to catch your breath for a moment, you decided to get some air…that would surely help you to regulate.

So, you snuck out into the back of the reception hall, it had been lit beautifully by the setting sun. Off across the back there was a tree that had grown out parallel to the ground, it looked right out onto the lake behind the hall.  You made your way over and sat, your dress fluffed out around you.

You’d taken a few grounding breaths, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself…despite the anxiety that loomed from being around so many people for so long, it wouldn’t dim the joy you currently felt from getting to marry your true love.

--

It didn’t take Aaron long to notice your absence. Once quick glance around the reception hall and he knew you had gone off to try and calm your nerves. He made his way around to see if you’d gone to the restroom or to the foyer…when he came up empty, he decided to check outside and the view he was met with was breathtaking.

Straight ahead of him, was you. Your back to him, sat on the trunk of this tree with your dress cascading around you. The rays of the setting sun illuminated you from the front, casting this angelic glow around you. Aaron felt so incredibly lucky to have found you in this lifetime. He had been so sure that he wouldn’t find love again…but then you came around and proved him wrong. He couldn’t be any more grateful for that.

He walked over to you, quiet enough to avoid disturbing you, but he also wanted to make sure he didn’t startle you.

“Hey sweetheart,” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder “you doing alright?”

“Hmm, yeah I’m okay.” You sighed, leaning into his touch.

Aaron could tell you were exhausted; physically, mentally and emotionally. Today had been a big and long day. One that he knew would be hard for you to come down from. That was the thing, Aaron often sensed your anxieties before you did…you had high highs, and low lows. Today was the highest of highs…which meant a pretty big come down was sure to follow. Aaron wanted to do everything in his power to help you through that, starting now.

“Hey, why don’t we get out of here?” Aaron suggested.

“Honey, we can’t.”

“And why not? I’ll go grab Jack and the three of us will go grab something to eat and then head home to watch a movie!” Aaron smiled.

“It wouldn’t be right Aar. They’re here for us; it would be rude. Plus, this is our wedding, we’ve paid for all of this.” You huffed lightly.

Truthfully, Aaron didn’t care about all that. He just wanted to spend time with you. He was so incredibly happy to finally be married to you. Nothing else matters in this moment to him…just your happiness. All he’s wanted for the last few years was to have you as his wife, and now you were. His beautiful wife.

“Baby, it’s all for us. Which means we get to choose when it’s all said and done. What do you say?”

“Okay.” You smiled.

Aaron quickly made his way inside, he let Dave know your plan so someone could be in charge of closing everything up, he also informed your sister so she could make sure all your things were situated. Aaron then grabbed Jack and made his way back to you.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

--

The three of you made your way to your favorite diner, a 50’s themed one called Barb’s. Your favorite waitress had even been working, making the night even better.

“Hey guys, did you guys…are you in…I feel like I’m missing something.” Thresa laughed.

“We got married a few hours ago.” You filled her in.

“Oh, and you guys came here? I mean, congratulations…but shouldn’t you be at your reception or something?”

“I am in our favorite diner, with my favorite two people. There is no place I’d rather be.” Aaron confirmed.

“Well, dinner is on the house tonight. Did you guys want the usual, or something else tonight?" Thresa asked.

“The usual.”

--

Aaron, Jack and you ate dinner that night, laughing and smiling and recounting your favorite parts of the day. Though you knew deep down…that years from now, when you looked back on this day, this would be your favorite part. Sitting in Barb’s Diner, eating a grilled cheese across from your husband who knows you better than you know yourself.   

You had never felt happier.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust@khxna @crimesthatnooneaskedfor

[emeraldserenade]

Connections ~ Joaquin Torres

synopsis: you and Joaquin keep meeting, yet you never seem to get his number. Not until someone pushes you together.

tw: limited use of y/n, someone tries to wear white to reader's sister's wedding, reader was a sharp shooter, violence, reader only briefly talks about their dead dog, reader gets hurt and goes into surgery, possible spoilers for cabnw, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

➽──────────────❥

It was at the hospital when you first met Joaquin Torres, he was being released and you were visiting your brother. Joaquin was by himself when you met him, waiting to be pick up.

"Hey, you're the new Falcon, right?" You asked, stopping only a few steps away from him.

"Uh, yeah, I am," he nodded and you smiled at him.

"Cool," you nodded before hesitating. "Thanks for what you did at Celestial Island, you saved my father from having to go back to a war zone," you told him, eyes shining from unshed tears. Joaquin did have time to answer you before you were ushered inside by your mother.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The next time you met Joaquin was in a bookstore, he saw you first. He remembered you, how you recognized and thanked him. He wanted to tell you how much that had meant to him but got nervous. That changed, however, when you looked up from the book you were looking at and made eye contact with him.

"Hey, I don't know if you remember me but," you stopped talking when you realized you had started talking at the same time as Joaquin.

"No, I remember you. You're the girl from the hospital," he offered and you smiled.

"Yeah that's me," you laughed gently and pushed some hair behind your ear. "I'm y/n by the way," you told him.

"Joaquin Torres," he offered his name and hand. You took the latter for a handshake.

"Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Joaquin," you smiled at him before leaving. Joaquin cursing himself for not getting your number.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The third time you met Joaquin was at your sister's wedding. You were the Maid of Honor and was tasked with making sure no one was wearing white after you finished getting ready. You greeted people as they walked in, a bottle of red wine hidden in the podium next to you just in case. You should have guessed that Joaquin was Sam Wilson's plus one, but you somehow didn't even think of that. The two walked in and you greeted Sam warmly before turning to Joaquin and greeting him just as warmly.

"You know Sam?" Joaquin had walked up to you a few minutes later, you were still greeting guests.

"Yeah, my sister and his sister have been friends for years," you told Joaquin.

"Did Sam tell you to thank me then?" Joaquin's voice took on a tone that you've never heard before.

"What? No, I haven't seen Sam in months until today," you spun to look at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "Joaquin, I swear, I thanked you because I wanted to," you told him, placing your hand against his arm. Joaquin didn't have a chance to answer before an uproar happened outside. You looked out the door and saw your soon-to-be brother-in-law's girlfriend outside in a wedding dress. "What is she doing here? She's not even invited," you mused to yourself. Joaquin followed you outside, his eyes darting down to the bottle of red wine in your hand.

"Just let me in!" She tried to push past the people around her but you just walked up and brandished the bottle you were holding. She didn't seem to realize but everyone around her did and took a step back. She huffed in amusement before whipping around and coming face to face with you and the bottle of red. You reached forward and tipped the bottle of her head, making sure to use your other hand to hold the bottom of your dress away from the splashes.

"There," you gave her a self satisfied smile and stepped out of the way as she lunged at you.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was later at the reception that you and Joaquin got to talk again, your sister, ever the loving person, paid for every bridesmaid to have a reception dress that was shorter and easier to move in. Which is how Joaquin convinced you to dance with him, which you did, for hours. You two were a little out of breath and laughing when you both left the dance floor. You noticed some of your sister's friends staring you two down but thought nothing of it.

"When Sam said he was brining a plus one, part of me was hoping it would be you," you confessed, looking over at Joaquin. He smiled but was interrupted by one of your sister's more brazen friends.

"Hey, handsome, do you want an escape from my friend's boring little sister? We can go dance," She was touching his shoulders, back, and chest as she spoke and you couldn't help but think about how if the roles were reversed it wouldn't even be ok.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm good here," Joaquin gave her a smile but she wasn't backing down.

"Are you sure? You don't have to be nice to her, I never was," she tried to whisper the last part as if it were a secret, but the alcohol she had been drinking wasn't helping her. Joaquin was saved from answering when the girl's boyfriend walked over, the two started fighting a few steps away and you made bewildered eye contact with Joaquin before you both started laughing.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The fourth time you met Joaquin, you were helping him and Sam with a mission. You were, as someone you can't remember once said, the 'guy' in the chair. You weren't as good a Joaquin at computers but you knew your way around.

"Uh, Sam, you might want to move," you told him.

"Why?" He questioned, he was on a roof of a nearby building.

"You've got company coming up the stairs," you told him, watching as more started to go up the stairs of the building Joaquin was on too. "Joaquin, move now," you told him, desperate as you watched both boys get into fights. You called in backup, getting people there would take time, time the boys did not have. "Shit," you cursed and looked around the room you were in and spotted a sniper rifle. You got up and grabbed it, sprinting to the stairwell of the building you were in and up that stairs.

"y/n, are you there? We need backup, send people in!" You heard Sam yell through the comms.

"I did, they should be here in like 15 minutes," you told him, getting to the right spot to take aim at the building Joaquin was on. He needed your help more than Sam. You shot them down, none of them were wearing helmets or leg protection. That's where you aimed, you watched Joaquin look around for the person who was helping him but you didn't have time to wave at him. You moved your sights and aim to help Sam, shooting down the people he was having trouble with.

"I thought you said they wouldn't be here for 15 minutes," Sam panted into his comm. You stood up straight and looked directly over to Sam as you set the gun down.

"I was an FBI sharp shooter, did you forget?" You waved over to Joaquin as he flew back to the building, Sam not far behind.

"Yeah, I did," Sam admitted and you shook your head. The three of you started back down the stairs, Sam leading the way. Joaquin lagged a little behind with you.

"You were a sharp shooter?" Joaquin looked over at you as you two walked down the stairs side by side.

"Yeah, I quit after a job gone wrong," you sighed, shuddering as you remembered accidentally hitting a little girl after just following orders.

"What do you do now?" Joaquin asked.

"Oh, right now, nothing. I was helping out at the VA with Sam for a while after I got back but then I moved farther than I wanted to travel everyday. I still go and help every now and again, but not as often as I'd like," you admitted, walking back into the room you three had been holed up in.

"We probably need to move," Sam told you two and you nodded.

"I can get us in a hotel, I have a card that isn't in my name," you told Sam and he slowly nodded.

"Why do you have a credit card not in your name?" Same questioned.

"First off, it's a debit card, I am not putting someone into credit card debit. Secondly, I was given it after I helped this old rich man. He just handed me the card and a paper with the information and told me he would put money on it monthly," you explained, crossing your arms.

"A old man just gave you his debit card?" Sam looked at you with an incredulous look as you three started packing up the room.

"I mean, yeah. It's not like he was a complete stranger, he knows my dad," you shrugged.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The fifth time you met Joaquin was the same day, when you had to tell the two that there was only one room left.

"Hey, so, I have some not great news," you announced as you walked up to the other two.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"There's only one room," you cringed at Sam's annoyed face. "There's two beds and a couch," you told them and watched Sam relax a little.

You three walked into the room and you didn't even voice your decision before you hurried over to the couch.

"Uh, no. y/n you get a bed," Sam tried to argue with you but you gave him a pointed look.

"You're Captain America now, you need a bed. And Joaquin don't you even dare try and argue with me," you looked over at your shoulder at the boy you addressed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You shifted on the couch again before sitting up and looking over at the door, you had wanted to leave but didn't know how heavy of a sleeper Joaquin is. You knew Sam could sleep through just about anything. You sighed and got up, slipping on one of the slippers the hotel provided for you all.

"Can't sleep?" You jumped at Joaquin's voice, slapping your hand over your chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he raised his hands up in surrender.

"No, it's ok," you sighed, calming your heartbeat. "And no, I can't. I don't get how Sam can sleep anywhere," you mused. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I couldn't sleep either," he told you and you nodded at him. "I'm not used to sleeping without another body in my bed," he told you and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Really?" You teased and he backtracked a little.

"I have a dog, he lays in bed with me until I fall asleep," Joaquin told you and you laughed gently.

"I get that, I'm not used to being alone while I fall asleep either. My dog passed a few months ago and I'm still getting used to it," you admitted. You two stood in silence for a while before Joaquin broke it.

"Want to share the bed? That way both of us might be able to sleep," Joaquin offered and you thought about it.

"Sure," you and Joaquin walked in and both laid down on his bed. You two fell asleep and awoke in the morning to Sam taking pictures of you two cuddling, claiming he would be keeping them for your future wedding.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The final time you met Joaquin was after the mission. You had gotten hurt while helping them, the others got smart about you being on another roof and taking them down. You were now in the hospital after your surgery, it wasn't major. You woke up to Joaquin in the chair next to your bed, it was clear he was in a state of disarray.

"Hey," you gently squeezed the hand that was gently resting in yours.

"Querida, you're awake," Joaquin shot up straight.

"Yeah, I am," you told him, letting him roam his eyes over you and rub the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I," Joaquin started to talk but cut himself off. "Sam told me that you like me and that I should just ask you out, so would you like to go on a date with me?" Joaquin looked nervous and his thumb stilled on the back of your hand.

"I would love to," you told him, smiling at him as he smiled back. "I do need your number though," you joked, laughing with Joaquin.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[lilghostiequinni]

Never Out There

Main Masterlist Carlos Masterlist

Pairing: Wife!female reader x Carlos Sainz Jr

Warnings: Fluffy, None

Summary: No one knew that your relationship had gotten far. Having only been public for a few months, people thought he was only your boyfriend, not your husband.... to the father of your child.

Requested: NO / yes

When you went public with Carlos, it was by accident.

You had been out with him and Lando in Monaco one day, and Lando said something that made Carlos kiss you, and Lando just chuckled and held up his hands when he did.

Well, it was caught on camera by a couple of fans, and so you and Carlos decided to announce it to the world that you were together rather than let rumors go around about your "supposed" relationship.

Though no one knew the extent of your relationship with Carlos, most thought that you had only just gotten together.

But the two of you had, in fact, been together for over ten years and married for seven.

You two also had three children, Carlos, age five; Landon, age 4; and Miliea, age 2, with a fourth on the way, but there was no bump in when the world found out about your relationship; it was why you and Carlos were out with Lando in the first place.

Kelly was your best friend on the grid the two of you bonding about being pregnant at the same time.

When you did start to show, you made a post about how much you loved your husband.

It was how you announced your pregnancy, seven-year marriage, ten-year relationship, and three other children to the world.

It wasn't conventional, but very you and on brand for what Carlos knew of you and what the world knew of you from what Carlos had told them.

There were many edits of the two of you, of how Carlos looked at you the same way that he and Lando looked at each other, and you thought the edits were like that were funny, the ones comparing you and Carlos to Carlos and Lando.

You would send those videos to Lando and to Carlos.

They would sometimes chuckle, and others just shake their head at you; Carlos was mostly the latter, while Lando chuckled.

Your kids loved their Uncle Lala; they got the name from Lando's niece, Mila, when you brought them to McLaren, and Lando's family was there.

When your relationship went public, you expected more hate than you actually got because you had seen what some other WAGs get it horrendously bad with the hate.

You didn't want that, but there were more supporters than haters, and you barely saw the hate comments because you were often too busy with your three, sometimes four children on top of your pregnancy.

But everything was good in your life with Carlos, and you were happy with him and the family you built.

It got ten times easier when everything was out in the open, well, the less private bits weren't but, most of it was out there for the world to see and judge, and you were okay with that.

A/N: Winner in the 300 Follower Cele This or That poll

Tags: @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @ellen3101 @barcelonaloverf1life @charli123456789 @amz824 @diaryofarandomkid @hadids-world

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[gothamhappiness]

Behind the masks (mayor!reader x Bruce Wayne) - Part 1

Hi everyone, I got this little idea of reader becoming the new Mayor of Gotham, and as you start working with Batman, you fall for each other. This is going to be a two part story with a gender neutral reader, hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, you're a leftist (don't know if it needs to be in the warnings, but basically you just want the inhabitants of Gotham to be healthy and happy), you dislike Bruce Wayne quite a lot (you're uneasy in his presence), but you really love Batman, mentions of kissing Batman, mentions of having sex with Batman (he's a little bit submissive), a little bit of angst as you don't think you can get more than a work + sexual relationship with Batman

You were the new mayor of Gotham. 

You didn’t really believe this happened, that you got elected, that you were now at the head of this rotten city. Your whole campaign has been around cleaning Gotham from its corruption and helping the poor people. You had been treated as a leftist and you had been proud of it. You were there to help your citizens, you were ready to fight for them, you were ready to help Gotham become a good place to live in.

You knew it was going to be hard and maybe a little bit bloody. But you were determined. You felt like it was your calling and now you were elected, you were on a mission. It was your duty to save Gotham from the darkness. You knew you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own, but you trusted your people: some of them showed more than once that they were ready to fight for Gotham too. Batman and his vigilantes, as well as Jim Gordon, were the first people you thought about. You were certain everything was possible.

You would make everything possible.

During the campaign, Bruce Wayne quickly offered you some money. You refused at first, because you weren’t too sure you could trust this himbo of a man. And last time he founded a campaign, Harvey Dent turned into a villain - which you didn’t want to happen to you as well. Plus, even if Bruce Wayne was known for his charity events and for trying his best for the city, you were feeling uneasy around such a rich man. Something always seemed fake about him and you didn’t particularly want to be linked to him. 

However when the mayor in place started to find ways to destroy all the funds you got, you had to accept Bruce Wayne’s offer. You hated it but you didn't have the choice anymore. Your campaign director had been exasperated when you told him you had refused the help of Bruce Wayne. And when all your funds disappeared, he blamed you for not having taken what the richest man of the city offered. You told him you could try to accept now, but he wasn’t too sure Bruce Wayne would accept. You still decided to give it a shot.

You remembered how you came to the Wayne manor, feeling pretty awkward in such a place. You remembered how you felt so small there, because you weren’t coming from a very rich place yourself. You were from the low middle class, just enough to get an education and knowing how to talk to be listened to. 

The butler, Alfred, you believed he was called, answered the door and very politely asked you to come inside, and told you that his Master Bruce was waiting for you in his office. You thanked him before following the man through the manor. 

Alfred knocked at a door and opened it for you before announcing you to Bruce Wayne. You were feeling even more uncomfortable, but you tried to remind yourself that you were putting yourself in this position for your city, for your people.

Bruce Wayne probably noticed how tense you were as he got up to shake hands with you as he gently smiled at you. He offered you a seat. You didn’t want to do any small talk or to stay any longer than necessary so you quickly went to the subject of your visit.

“Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for accepting to receive me so quickly." you said

“It’s no problem, I understand that I could help you?” he asked you, and for a moment you wondered if he was playing dumb or if he really was

“I know I turned down your offer to fund my campaign but… I’m afraid Mr. Hill isn’t playing fair, and I can’t really refuse your money anymore, if you’re still up to help me on that front of course. I would totally understand if you changed your mind…” you told him, pushing away your shame and proud as far as possible from you

“Of course I’m still up to help you. I’m glad when my money can serve Gotham.” he replied and you relaxed

“Thank you so much for making things that easy for me.” you said as you leaned into your seat

“Very good speech you gave last night, by the way.” Bruce Wayne shot you another smile as he signed up the biggest check you ever received in your whole life

“Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Wayne.” you whispered, quite stunned by all the zeroes he added, before it started worrying you: “Should I expect you to ask me for a favor one day?” you wondered and Bruce had seemed a little bit surprised for an instant before shaking his head

“I just want Gotham cleaned. And you seem eager and ready to do so” he shrugged “I can host a gala for you by the way” he offered “Anything that could help your campaign”

“That’s very kind of you, I’ll let you know about it” you had politely replied, hoping you wouldn’t need to accept this new offer as you didn’t particularly enjoy that kind of event and you didn’t want to have to spend more time with Bruce “Brucie” Wayne. “I hope to see you at my victory speech” you smiled, trying to be polite

“I’ll be there” Bruce Wayne simply nodded and you didn’t want to enjoy how certain he seemed to be.

Certain you were going to win.

You kept politely talking to one another for a few more instants, before you softly told him you had to go. You thanked him again and he actually guided you back to the front door of the manor.

You left the manor and as you got inside your car, you had to pinch yourself to make sure that none of this was a dream. 

You were a little bit astonished by how things went. Brucie Wayne acted a lot different than usual: he didn’t flirt with you, he didn’t try to seem to be ongoing and nice. He seemed even normal for a rich guy. You had the feeling he was more than just an himbo, after all he was taking an interest in politics? But you still didn’t trust him and you hoped you wouldn’t need to see him too often. Something about him was making you feel apprehensive, like when you look at an illusion and you can’t determine what is behind it.

Truth to be told, Bruce Wayne really liked you. He really thought you could be a good mayor. Jim Gordon thought the same and they both hoped someone was finally going to be on their side to make Gotham a good place.

Bruce Wayne stayed true to his words and as you were giving your victory speech, you spotted him in the crowd with his butler. He applauded for you, and when journalists asked him if he voted for you, he quickly said that yes. You hated how it helped your popularity and how everyone was even more eager to work with you as a mayor. You still had to send him a little message to thank him for his support.

You did your best to forget about him as you quickly started to work once you got elected. You truly became an ally of Jim Gordon. You started to clean up the GCPD from any rotten apples, and you did the same among the justice of Gotham. Of course, you quickly started to get a lot of enemies. You spent sleepless nights and you were walking on a thin line: with all the people you had to fire, you were clearly understaffed. But you had to do it, and you knew it was the right path. At the same time, you were working on an education plan for the poorest neighbourhoods of Gotham. You were certain that when people would escape poverty, they wouldn't need to work as goons, and criminality would drop.

Jim still warned you about the fact that before you reached this goal, you would need more police officers, or other kinds of help… You quickly understood what he meant and the next day you publicly declared that Batman and the vigilantes working with him were allies of Gotham, that the GCPD wouldn’t attack them anymore and that the city was eager to work with them.

Bruce was watching the news and he was quite pleasantly surprised by such decisions. It would indeed make things so much easier. He was quite eager to work with you.

After that, Jim offered to organise a meeting with Batman in the flesh so the three of you could agree on the better plan for cleaning up Gotham. 

You didn’t hesitate. You had always believed Batman was a light in Gotham. Of course, you weren’t always in agreement with how he acted, but you also knew that without him, the City would have gone even crazier.

You were a little bit stressed out before meeting the Dark Knight. You weren’t too sure how to act around him. But once he appeared in front of you, you relaxed. You felt safe and talking with him felt natural.

It was strange how Batman and you instantly enjoyed each other. You easily understood each other, and you were seeing Gotham and its corruption the same way. You often had meetings with him, sometimes even without Jim. When it was happening, it was almost looking like a working date.

Or just a date.

You didn’t want to admit it but Batman was attractive: he was a big and powerful man, he was a genius too. More than once, when it was just the two of you, he cracked some pretty cynical jokes that never failed to make you laugh. 

He also gave you a device to call him or the other vigilantes in case you would be in danger. You were becoming a target, and you were grateful a man like Batman was looking after you, or you knew you would get killed pretty soon. But, few months after your election, you still haven't needed to call for him because whenever something was going on in the city, he was sending one of the people working with him to you, so they could protect you.

You were quite friendly with all the vigilantes of Gotham and they seemed to like you quite a lot as well. It was a nice change for them that someone was so openly thankful for their work and to be offered food and water whenever they arrived to look after you. You even bandaged Robin one night he showed up injured but with the clear determination to protect you. You had argued with the kid for a while before he let you check on him. Batman personally thanked you for that the night after and you shrugged it off

“You look after me, I look after you all, it seems like a fair deal to me”

The first night you kissed Batman, you got worried it would make things awkward between the two of you. You didn’t know why you acted on your fantasy, but you didn’t regret it, as the man quickly answered the kiss. He sat you on your desk and cupped your face. You smiled against his lips: you clearly weren’t the only one who had wanted this.

The first time you had sex, Batman went down on you. You had been a little bit surprised that the Dark Knight was actually a little bit submissive, but you enjoyed to hold onto the pointed ears of his mask to ride his mouth. He had left you satisfied like you had never been before. Was the man really skilled no matter what he was doing? You wouldn’t complain about it.

You adored Batman, and you enjoyed working with him and having this physical relationship with him, but you didn’t really hope for anything more. You were already happy with that, even if a little voice inside your head told you that you could have so much more. You could become his partner, you could start a romantic relationship too. And you would have been the happiest person on Earth, because he was truly illuminating your nights and helping you go through all the mess Gotham could be.

But he was a masked man and you didn’t really think he would want more or to put his secret identity at risk. You were aware that something changed though, because the other vigilantes seemed a lot more careful when it was about you. After all, they knew their mentor and father was in love with you.

You were taking a break from work, reading a newspaper talking about the fact that Bruce Wayne hadn’t been seen with any girls or boys lately. Actually, it appeared that Brucie wasn’t flirting or hitting on anyone at galas. Everyone was wondering if he wasn’t secretly seeing someone but so far the paparazzi hadn’t found anything.

“I didn’t know you cared about Bruce Wayne?” a voice asked from behind you and you jumped before groaning as you realised that Batman had appeared out of nowhere

“Bat” you gave him a warning look “We talked about it” you reminded him as you turned your seat to face him

“Sorry, mayor” he apologised but you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips

“And no I don’t care about Bruce Wayne, but that’s all the media are talking about lately.” you replied to his question “But you know him, don’t you? Is he too in love to fuck with anyone else?” you teased

“I don’t know his sexual life” Batman sternly replied and you hummed “But you know him too, don't you?” he asked but he seemed to already know the answer

“He just gave me money for my campaign.” you shrugged

“And you didn’t try to know more about him? It’s always useful to have rich people on your side” Batman tried and you were wondering what was happening with Batman

“No. He feels too… unreal and that scares me off.” you finally said

“Unreal?” Batman seemed genuinely surprised

“I mean you feel unreal sometimes too, but you feel fuller too. I’m uneasy around Bruce Wayne because… well I don’t know, it’s like a perfect mask and because he’s super hot, no one tries to find out what’s really behind all of it. I guess you’re also wearing a mask, but you’ve got a real personality” you tried to explain “Anyways, we’re not here to…”

“You’re smart” Batman cut you off and you arched an eyebrow at that “But you never wonder what's behind the masks?” he asked again and you were really curious about where this conversation was leading

“I don’t want to be near Bruce Wayne. And as for you… I don’t know. We’re working well together, the sex is good too. I guess I’m always afraid to ask for too much, because I don’t want things to get ruined between us because I’ve been too greedy” you sincerely replied

“Would you do me a favor?” he suddenly asked and you nodded “Bruce Wayne is going to invite you to one of his galas and I need you to go there, and I need you to talk with him. And then you’ll tell me if you’re still scared to look beneath the mask”

--

Part 2

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

@randomnamedmira

@winterhi09

@murkyponds

@qardasngan

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

[leupagus]

So I'm seeing a fair amount of comments like "it's about time!" and "finally!!" and "what took them so long???"

And they bug me because... okay, I'm going to say this as gently as possible, but if you didn't know about this before reading my silly little post, what makes you think you've been aware of anything else the Democrats have been doing? If this is how you heard about Tuesday's shenaniganery, why do you consider yourself well-informed enough on Democrats' activities to say they haven't been doing enough?

I'm not saying this as part of a "how dare you criticize Democrats" rant, I promise. I'm pointing out that the way we Americans* consume information is deeply fucked, and that just because we personally haven't heard about something doesn't mean that it hasn't happened. There is a trend in media to coddle and cape for conservatives while harshly criticizing liberals (think of all the "this poor Trump voter never realized voting for Trump would mean bad things for them personally, isn't it terrible??" articles that we've literally never seen written about any liberal or leftist voter, ever, while getting furious because... one Democrat talks about egg prices). And not just amongst corporate media, whatever that means; TikTok and Instagram are rife with people assuring you that voting doesn't matter, all politicians are corrupt shills, we're doomed because everyone in power is a feckless coward (unlike us viewers, who are all good people but are also completely helpless). There is a huge market for being angry at Democrats, and while I don't think there's any deep conspiracy other than the age-old Mommy Problem, it's worth considering what effect that might have on how much we actually hear about anything good that they do.

We should always be cynical about politicians, to be clear. But we should also be cynical about the news media, social media, and our society itself at this juncture. Heck, we should be cynical about cynicism! Throwing our hands up and saying "both parties are the same, they all need to go, throw them all out into the street" is a great way to feel morally pure but a lousy way to effect any sort of change for our country. If your congressperson or senators suck, by all means work hard to throw them out. But consider how helpful it is to claim that all 630-odd members of Congress, regardless of party, are equally contemptible and should all be run out on a rail. Do you really think that will encourage good and decent people to run for office? Because here's the thing: someone's got to do that job. We cannot abolish Congress, no matter what your anarchist friend tells you. The past weeks and the coming months and years are about to show everyone in stark, horrifying detail just how necessary a functioning American government is, and someone needs to run it. If you want those people to do better than Trump and his lackeys, you have to at least be aware of what they do better.

TL;DR — if the original post provided you with any new information, consider widening your pools of places you get information from. Sign up for your representative's and senators' newsletters, get a subscription to a good local paper, read the headlines from Reuters or AP or heck, just follow a congressional staffer nerd (Aaron Fritschner is my personal fave). I promise that there are shitty, stupid, shortsighted things that Democrats are doing right now, but there aren't as many as you think; and there are more thoughtful, smart, and capable things they're doing than you know.

*Yes this is a post for Americans by an American; if you're not American then this isn't about you.

Tuesday's House Budget Vote and what you may not have heard about

I'm reposting this from a reblog of a really great post about the work that Representatives Mullin and Pettersen did in voting against the GOP budget on February 25th, because I don't want to detract from that message.

Instead, I want to talk about the larger implications of H. Con. Res. 14 itself, and why the Democrats risked so much (in Mullin's and Pettersen's cases, actual harm) in order to show up for this vote.

The vote in question is starting the first of quite a few votes for the upcoming GOP budget; it's not a done deal by any means, this was just the vote to get it started, so to speak. But it was still a very, very, VERY important vote, because not only would failure be catastrophic, but so would a win that just barely squeaked by.

And this one squeaked like a fucking mouse in Murray's Cheese Shop.

Speaker Johnson has been waffling on putting this to a vote because there were several outspoken GOP members who talked a big game about opposing it. Usually this doesn't matter, since most bills get some bipartisanship, but at present the House is in GOP hands with only a three-member margin of error, with two seats vacant (note: those two vacancies are FL 1 and 6, which are holding their special elections on April 1 — lol — and which are EXTREMELY unlikely to flip but hey miracles happen! Donate or phonebank if you'd like!). And Democratic representatives have been voting in a bloc against...well pretty much everything the GOP's been pushing through since Trump took office. Not only that, but this budget is legit unpopular with a number of Republicans, so much so that Johnson pulled the vote at first on Tuesday because he knew it would fail if the GOP members who'd threatened to vote against it actually went through with it. What he needed was to either convince them all to fall in line, or resort to cheating.

So he did both!

He and Trump strongarmed all but one of the GOP holdouts into voting yes (Congressman Massie is in many ways a turd in a toilet, and his reasons for voting no were bad, but he did stick to his guns, I'll give him that). Reports of Trump actually screaming at one of the (female, naturally) GOP holdouts are...well, unsurprising, but that's how panicked they were about getting this bill started. Usually the Whip does this work, but Tom Emmer's been laughably bad at it and so they had to get Trump to actually do some work. Which is itself sort of astonishing. But even then, they weren't sure they could get it done.

Which leads us to part two of Johnson's plan: blatant cheating. During Pelosi's last session as Speaker, she allowed for proxy voting in light of COVID and, you know, the general state of things, but the second the GOP got back the gavel they nixed it right in the bud. This puts the Dems at a disadvantage right now because at least three of them are out for medical reasons — Mullin and Pettersen, as well as Congressman Raúl Grijalva who's fighting cancer at present. (He was the only Democrat who couldn't get to the floor for this vote, fwiw, and anyone who insists he should've can suck my left tit.)

So Johnson adjourned the House for the evening, sending everyone home, but told the GOP members to stay and then tried to rush through the vote before the Dems realized what was happening. His hope was that enough Dems would be caught flat-footed/not see the recall notice/be asleep watching Taskmaster (whoops that was me) by the time they got the message to get back to the floor. That way he could lose the holdouts but still pass the budget onto the next phase.

However! While Nancy Pelosi no longer rules the Democratic caucus with her iron fist and fabulous coats, my man Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries learned quite a lot from her (and is pretty fucking genius himself). Not only did he and the other House leadership expect this kind of chicanery from Johnson, they had planned on it.

Because here's the thing: Mullin and Pettersen didn't get on a plane at the last minute on Tuesday; they'd gotten to DC on Monday, without telling anyone they were in town. They actually hid from the GOP members all day Tuesday in order to lull Johnson into thinking he had more of a margin than he did; if the GOP holdouts really had voted against the budget, then it would've failed. Which would have been a biiiiiiig problem for Johnson and Trump.

As it is, it's still a biiiiiiig problem for Johnson and Trump, because now they know just how razor-thin their margin is. More importantly, they also now know that the Dems will fuck with them just as much (if not more) as they will fuck with Dems. Congress (and the USA in general) has operated for years on the assumption that Democrats operate in good faith, while taking it for granted that of course the GOP ratfuck as much as humanly possible.

This moment is a chilling one for the GOP; they can't assume anymore that Dems will play fair or fight clean. Which seems like a very small thing in the larger picture right now, I know, and I also know that people would love for their Democratic representatives and senators to be more vocal and angry in public ways. I get that!

But this move on Tuesday night? Is actually going to have far bigger consequences than any meme or viral video or clever soundbite from a politician. Democrats are no longer playing by the rules that the GOP's ignored for years (if not decades); they're playing by the GOP's own rules, and they just might win.

[steveseddie]

endlessly

written for @steddielovemonth day twenty eight “endlessly” by the cab | rating: t | wc: 2,1k | tags: post s4, three years in the future, established relationship, marriage proposal, fluff

read on ao3

There’s a shop down the street where they sell plastic rings for a quarter a piece and Eddie swears it might be his favorite thing about his and Steve’s apartment in Chicago.

Well, no. He really loves that it’s only five minutes away from Buckley’s dorm and that it has a fire exit that’s often visited by their downstairs neighbor’s cat. And of course, he also loves living there with Steve.

But that little shop is pretty sick too. Eddie is constantly misplacing his rings, and this way, it’s easier for him to replace them.

He stops by once or twice every week, which in Steve’s opinion is too much.

“You only have ten fingers, Eds, how many rings can you possibly need?” He tells him every time, but he always asks Eddie to show him his most recent buy.

Today’s visit has gotta be quick. Steve is waiting for Eddie and the black pepper he sent him to get for his homemade chili. So it’s in and out of the shop in less than five minutes, a new black band secured in his pocket, before Eddie hurries back home.

But even if he does, Steve still lets out an impatient little huff when he arrives.

“There you are!” He says, walking over to Eddie– and grabbing the black pepper from his hands, ignoring him.

Eddie lets out an offended string of noises. “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

“No, you are late,” Steve chastises, but still presses a placating kiss to Eddie’s lips before going back to the sizzling saucepan.

Eddie follows him and hops on the counter, his legs dangling back and forth as he watches Steve stir. “Unless everyone’s hiding in our bathroom, and I would be impressed, given how small it is, there’s no one here yet so there’s no way I’m late,” Eddie says petulantly.

Steve rolls his eyes, adding the black pepper to the chili. “They’ll be here soon. Rob called to say she was leaving her dorm and the kids said they’d get here around two, and you know they’ll be starving from the three hour ride. And they’ll bitch if lunch isn’t ready.”

“They’ll bitch either way,” Eddie says with a snort. “If not because of the food, then for the fact that they’re all sleeping on the floor since we only have one couch.”

Their apartment is hardly the Harringtons’ mansion, and while it’s more than enough for Eddie and Steve, it doesn’t have multiple guest rooms and mattresses to fit nine people for a weekend.

Chuckling, Steve stirs the black pepper in. “You’re probably right, remind me why we agreed to this again?”

Eddie taps his bottom lip with his finger, pretending to think. “Mm, because you can’t say no to them, and because Lucas was excited to use his newly acquired license to get them all here. Oh, and because you miss them.”

“You miss them too,” Steve points out, one hand on his hip while the other brandishes the wooden spoon in front of Eddie’s face.

“I admit to nothing!” Eddie says, but the truth is that he does.

The last time they saw the kids was a couple of months ago, when he and Steve drove to Hawkins for Wayne’s birthday and it had really hit Eddie just how much they’ve grown in the time they were away. Mike had been taller than both him and Steve, Lucas had actual facial hair. El’s curls were almost as long as Eddie’s while Max had chopped hers off and was rocking a badass bob. Will had a boyfriend and Henderson had a goddamned tattoo, for God’s sake.

Needless to say that visit had left Eddie reeling, Steve too. And while they were both excited to see them and show them around Chicago over the weekend, neither is ready to see how many other things have changed since then.

God, is this how parents feel when they watch their kids grow up? Maybe all those jokes about him and Steve co-parenting these shitheads were right all along.

“Here, try this,” Steve says, snapping Eddie out of his spiral. He holds the spoon in front of Eddie’s lips for him to taste it in a move that’s become familiar since they moved in together. Eddie leans forward and takes it into his mouth.

Then he lets out a moan.

“Fuck, Steve,” he says, watching Steve’s cheeks go pink, either at the praise or the familiar obscene sound. “That’s so good, oh my God.”

Steve ducks his head, smiling. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, licking his lips. “I’d marry you for that alone.”

It’s hardly the first time Eddie has said that, but Steve’s reaction is the same as always. His cheeks pink up even more and a pleased bashful smile stretches over his lips. He puts the spoon in the sink and covers the saucepan to let the chili simmer before he stands between Eddie’s legs.

“You keep saying that, but I’ve yet to see the ring,” Steve says, teasingly, only Eddie’s mind goes to the ring in his pocket, the black band that would look so good in Steve’s ring finger–

And before he knows it, he’s jumping off the counter and dropping to his knees.

With a raised eyebrow, Steve takes half a step back. “Eds, you know I’d let you blow me for how good my food is any day, but the kids will be here soon–”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Steve,” Eddie scoffs. “This isn’t that, although that chili is definitely blow job worthy.”

“Well, if it isn’t that then what are you doing down there?”

Hell if I know, Eddie thinks before digging into his jeans, taking the ring out.

Steve blinks down at it. “Did you stop by that shop again?”

“Yes,” Eddie says and before Steve can protest, he adds, “But this one isn’t for me. It’s for you.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in his forehead and when Eddie holds it up to him, his eyes widen, his jaw going slack.

“Oh my god.”

Eddie clears his throat. “Steve, these last three years with you have felt like a dream. Most of the time, I still can’t believe they weren’t one. That I won’t wake up from a coma at that damned secret hospital to find that none of it happened or that I died that day in the Upside Down and this is actually heaven. Life with you is just that good, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch because I get to come home to you every day and wake up next to you and your ridiculously bad bed head.” At that, Steve makes the first noise since Eddie started his speech– a soft wet chuckle.

“And I might be pushing my luck here, Stevie, because half the time I think I don’t deserve you. You deserve a– a gold ring and a beautiful house and someone who doesn’t think that jeans without holes in them counts as formal wear. But while I might not be able to give you that, I can and I will love you endlessly. So, ignoring the fact that legally we can’t, because fuck society, will you, Steve Harrington, marry me?”

Steve’s mouth opens with a gasp but before Eddie can get his answer, the door to their apartment swings open and in walks Robin.

She learned the hard way to use the key that they gave her cautiously after she walked in on them going at it half naked in the kitchen. The only reason why she used it today is probably because she thought it was safe to do it, knowing that they wouldn’t get up to any funny business while they were expecting the kids.

She probably didn’t expect to walk in on this instead.

To be fair, Eddie didn’t expect to do this at all today.

“Boys, look who I ran into downstairs!” She says, holding the door open for the kids before freezing on the spot. “Oh my God!”

“They’re naked, aren’t they?” Dustin groans. That damn tone is the one thing that hasn’t changed at all.

Robin sputters. “Uh, no, they’re–”

“Oh my God!” Mike gasps, echoing Robin’s words as he steps in and sees Eddie on his knees in front of Steve, the ring still held between his fingers.

“What? What?” The others ask, trying to get a look while stuck behind Mike’s tall frame.

They see El’s head pop up under his arm. “Eddie is proposing to Steve!”

“What?” Max and Dustin shriek, shoving Mike out of the way and stumbling into the apartment with Lucas and Will in tow.

Lucas gasps. “Holy shit!”

“Did he say yes?” Will asks, glancing between the two.

Dustin gives his arm a light slap. “Of course he said yes, he’s just as obsessed with Eddie as Eddie is with him.”

“Actually,” Eddie cuts in, speaking for the first time since they all barged in. “He hasn’t, you shitheads interrupted him.”

“Dude!” Max lets out an indignant huff. “What are you waiting for?”

“Yeah, Steve!” The boys all agree, El’s wide eyes do too.

“Children–” Robin chastises, but Eddie can see the curious glint in her eyes.

“I–” Steve starts, finally saying something but he doesn’t get far before Eddie interrupts him.

“Stevie, it’s okay, you just can tell me later–”

He firmly shakes his head. “No, Eds, I don’t mind that the kids are here,” he says, his lips tugging upwards as he starts his own speech. “I don’t mind that you got that ring from that shop down the street that I insist you spend way too much time in, or that we live in this small apartment and that you only own a single pair of jeans without any rips on them. I don’t care about any of that because I love you, and I love our life, and nothing would make me happier than being married to you even if it’s not official. Actually, fuck that, we can have our own wedding and it can be real to us. All that matters is that I get to love you. Endlessly.”

Eddie gapes at Steve, his heart in his throat. He wants to say something, anything, but he’s afraid he might embarrass himself by starting to cry.

“Dude,” Mike says, breaking the silence for him. “That was so sappy.”

“Shhhh!” They all say in unison while Max delivers a slap to the back of his head.

Eddie can’t help but laugh– a happy, giddy sound. “No, Wheeler is right. That was sappy.”

Steve shoots him a betrayed look. “Shut up. You’re lucky they didn’t hear your speech!”

“Don’t act like it didn’t make you swoon,” he teases.

Steve’s cheeks go red. “You’re insufferable, I take it back, I won’t marry you.”

“No take backsies!” Eddie protests, grabbing Steve’s hand and sliding the ring on. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“I know,” Steve says, his smile tipping into something soft as he hauls Eddie to his feet so he can kiss him.

Their friends cheer but the sounds quickly turn into groans as they both get a little carried away with their kiss.

“Do you guys need us to go back to the car and give you a minute to be gross?” Lucas asks after a while.

Eddie feels tempted to say yes but before he can Dustin jumps in protest. “No way! We’ve been in that car for hours and I’m starving!”

Steve and Eddie exchange a bemused look. They know their kids well.

“Well, lunch is ready, so go wash up and then you shitheads can eat.”

As soon as Steve says it, they all barrel into the apartment, squeezing into their tiny bathroom so they can wash their hands, arguing over who goes first the whole time.

Robin closes the door behind her and hands Steve her key. “I don’t think it’s not safe for me to have that,” she says sheepishly.

Eddie snorts. “Your timing really is impeccable, Buckley.”

Pulling them both in for a hug, she says, “I love you, dinguses and I’m happy for you, but if you make anyone else your Maid of Honor, I’ll kill you.”

“We love you too,” Steve chuckles, and Eddie agrees with a nod.

She pulls away, heading to the bathroom so she can also wash up.

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “And I love you,” he says with a kiss to his temple. “Endlessly.”

Eddie intertwines his fingers with the hand that rests over his shoulder, feeling the ring on Steve’s finger. It causes a flutter in his chest.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he says, giving his fingers a squeeze. “Endlessly.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your first day at work brings both excitement and anxiety. It's been a long time since you felt possibility ahead of you. You don't know that you ever really have. That's probably why you did what you did. No excuses. You made bad choices and didn't care who you hurt. 

You grab your new bag, in your brown blazer, a white satin blouse, and a black skirt, and head off. You feel like an imposter already. You get on the bus, standing as you avoid the musty seats, and figure you'll be sitting a bit too long that day. 

The office is building is just as it was before. Smaller than other business towers. The grey brick gives it an antique feel. Quaint, almost. You don't think you'll feel that way for long. 

As you enter, you recall the withering look from those green eyes. The timbre of judgment in his voice. The glint of mocking. You should be used to it by now, shouldn't you? 

You approach the office door and hesitate. What do you do? He gave you a time. You have no key. The door does not give off an essence of welcome. 

You knock and shift in your heels. You got the lowest ones you could find and they're still awful. You hear movement within. Mr. Laufeyson opens the door as you straighten your posture. 

"Good morning, sir," you greet. 

"You will fetch my coffee," he skips over any semblance of propriety. Even you know how to say hello. 

"Oh, yes sir," you reply, put off by his suddenness. 

"There is a cafe off the lobby. You must've passed it on your way in. Cortado." He demands. 

You take a breath. He could say please or thank you. You're used to a lack of manners but when you feel demeaned, you get a bit itchy. 

"Yes, sir, uh, I--" 

"You will be reimbursed. File a report," he turns away, "I would give a company card but... let's keep it all on file." 

He gets to his office door and you watch him in a silent simmer. You go to the empty desk and set down your bag. You dig out your wallet before tucking the rest underneath. 

You find your way down to the cafe, nestled between a law office and marketing consultancy space. You join the line and peer up at the menu. What did he say? C... something. Cortado, that's it right there. 

You step up for your turn. You pay for the drink and wait at the end of the counter. With your first task accomplished, you set off back to work. 

You enter the office. It's deathly silent. You can't help but look over your shoulder. Your hand balls to a fist instinctively. 

Before you can approach his door, it opens. 

"Thought I heard you," he struts out. "You may shut the door. And sit." 

You nod and offer him the cup. He points to the barren desk. You set it down and take your seat. He disappears. You frown. Was it some test? 

He emerges again, this time pushing a green leather chair. It looks much comfier than your own. He rolls it next to you and sits. You fidget and tug at the cuffs of the blazer. 

"Well, you can follow orders," he slithers. "Your attire is less... casual. The coffee is hot," he reaches for the cup and sips. "You will turn on the computer." 

You look under the desk for the tower. He scoffs and taps the laptop beside the monitor. You don't know how you missed that. 

"You will need to work outside the office at times. Now, I've a tracker installed and security, so there's no use in selling it," he warns. 

You seal your lips and nod. You won't show your irritation. Let him treat you like a criminal, at least he's paying you. 

You open the laptop and press the power button. It's very sleek and shiny. Brand new. 

"And the monitor," he directs and sips again. It's somewhat agitating to hear. 

You push the button along the bottom of the screen. He points to a post-it beside the touch pad. "Credentials." 

You type them in and hit enter. At least he's helping. Most of the courses you took were online and had zero support. You can figure things out on your own but you don't think he trusts you to do that. 

"I've had an employee ID set up. That is here," he points lower down on the post-it. "There is a folder here for you to review standard practices and expectations." 

He gestures to the smaller screen as you quietly observe. He sighs. 

"You have any questions?" 

"No, sir," you say. 

"And you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," you answer. I can read, tickles your tongue but you refuse to unleash it. 

"Wonderful, so let me take you through a few of our basic programs just so that you are set. There would be the email, then the task tracker, and finally, the most important, my calendar," he explains. 

"Yes, sir," you repeat. 

He wheels closer, his hand clasping onto the back of your chair. He keeps his cup in his other hand, extend one finger to motion to the screen. He helps you get into the inbox. 

"I recommend you review previous responses as well the templates provided in the Procedures folder." He explains. 

You bend and reach below the desk. You sift in your bag as he tuts, "whatever are you doing?" 

You sit back up with your notebook and a bic pen. You show him, "taking notes." 

He hums, "well, that is a good idea, isn't it?" 

He looks back to the screen as you flip the cover around the spirals. He's expecting you to fail, just like Dina, just like everyone else. You won't if you can help it. 

💼

You send another message to Mr. Laufeyson. For your first day, he insists on reviewing your emails. You let him know you have some waiting and go back to reviewing the folder of policy. It's not too difficult, only dry. You like that. 

How long did you live on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. It still could but there's no one actively working against you. Only your own bad habits. You just need to resist. You need to keep moving forward. 

'Send it'. His message is simple. No praise, no tips. Just approval. That's good enough for you. 

When lunch comes, you eat at your desk. You packed a plain peanut butter sandwich, a bottle of sparkling water, and small container of trail mix. Enough to tide you over. What you can spare. 

As you chew the crust, the door opens. Laufeyson sniffs and crosses his arms as he faces you. You swallow and wrap up the last bite. 

"Peanuts?" He says. 

"Oh, are you allergic?" You ask. 

"I prefer almond," he snips. "You're eating?" 

"Sir, you said twelve was my lunch." 

He squints then untangles his wrist to look at his watch, "so I did." 

You let out the heavy breath in your chest. You fold up the parchment around the sandwich and put it in your bag. Your stomach's doing those somersaults again. 

"You may finish," he says. 

"That's fine, sir, I was done," you assure him and grab a tissue to wipe your hands and mouth. You crumple it and put it in the bin. He looms close. 

"Well, if you aren't busy, another coffee would be in order." 

You look at him. You still have ten minutes. This isn't the yard, there's no guard counting down the minutes. You get up. 

"Yes, sir," you answer. 

"Oh, don't skip to the door," he says drolly. 

You tilt your head. His attitude drips from his posture as he checks his nails. You have to keep from scowling. You've been polite but he can't seem to show an ounce of decency. Well, he doesn't need to, he is your boss. 

"Just the coffee?" You ask. 

"Yes, dear, simple as," he assures flatly, as if you can't understand a coffee order. 

You bend down and grab your wallet. You put your hand on the desk to push yourself up and his shadow shifts. You glance over and his green eyes flick away from your skirt. You stand and tug it straight, worried it might have hitched up. 

"Excuse me," you sidle past him. 

"Do hurry," he bids. 

You're thankful to be away. You feel less suffocated by the guards with their night sticks, following you around as if you might make a run for the fence.  

It's busier at the cafe. You get to the counter and order. It's the same as before but even more crowded. Sweat speckles over your scalp as the walls seem to close in. 

You gulp for air as you get back to the lobby. You go up to the second floor and nearly burst through the office door. Laufeyson is by your desk, waiting. 

"Something the matter?" He muses. "I trust you didn't abscond with a coffee unpaid for?" 

You steady yourself and cross to him, offering the cup, "no, sir, it was only busy and I didn't want to be late." 

"Oh?" He arches a brow. "You seem rather worked up over it." 

"I'm not," you go around the desk and sit. 

"Ah yes, a different sort of cage now," he remarks, "no bars, just a wool blazer and a desk." 

You look at him, "I... no, it's not bad." 

"I suppose the comparison makes it tolerable," he snickers. 

"I guess," you agree and sign back into the laptop. 

"I've a client coming shortly. Please be sure to show them in with a smile." 

"I will, sir," you open the inbox. 

"You will?" 

"Yes," you repeat. 

"Let me see." 

"What?" You jerk back and pivot the chair toward him. 

"Smile for me." 

You stare at him then furrow your brow. He's taunting you. You know it. You can't let him get to you. 

You smile, or attempt to. 

"I know you might be out of practice but do try a little harder." He goads. 

You wipe your face and look down. You inhale. You smile again, this time resisting the tension tugging in your cheeks. He tilts his head. 

"Mm, you look almost like a lady," he sneers over the brim of his cup. 

You're starting to suspect he didn't hire you for good intentions. To be a helping hand. No, he's testing you. Trying to see how long it takes for you to break. Well, you won't. 

"Thank you, sir," you face the computer again. 

He sighs and struts away. The smile falls off your face and you open the newest email. You pluck away at it, falling back into a tempo between reading and typing. 

A knock comes at the door and you nearly slide out of the chair as you push it back. You get up and tap around on your heels. You brace yourself and remember. Smile. 

You turn the handle and pull the door open. "Hello, how are you today?" 

You sound stupid, like that churlish woman at the clothes shop. The man double takes and his lips slant, "I... the door says..." 

"Mr. Laufeyson is in his office," you explain.

The man nods and thoughtfully taps his chin, "ah, makes sense. He's hired a secretary." 

"Sir," you step back to let him in. 

"Aren't you polite?" He strolls in. "You might tell him Pine is here." 

"Yes, I will." 

You skirt around him and go to Laufeyson's door. You tap lightly. "Sir, your-- Mr. Pine is here." 

You wait at the door, trying to hear through it. It swings open and you teeter back. Pine steps forward, his hand outstretched. 

"Laufeyson," he shakes the others' hand. "Well, have you sorted it?" 

"You always bring me a challenge," Laufeyson waves him through then looks at you, "Pine, you take tea?" 

"As always." The man passes between you into the back office. 

"English breakfast," he points at you. "Quickly." 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Forty

“I’m not sure about this,” Eddie says quietly.

“It’ll be fine, and you need to learn, it’s been over a year, what if you fall in the pool?”

“I’m not gonna’,” Eddie tells him stubbornly.

“You can’t know that. We have to keep you safe.” It’s mid afternoon on a weekday, so the place is pretty deserted. Steve looks around the changing room real quick, but it’s definitely empty. He pulls Eddie close by the hem of his shirt, kissing him softly on the lips, “you’re going to do fine.” Eddie had spent the first six months of last year concentrating on basic motor function and gaining weight, not to mention getting a pretty good grasp on a whole language, learning to drive, learning to play guitar, plus all the other stuff he’s gotten up to. And then suddenly he had a job and Eddie made friends with Chrissy, there was all that stuff with Owens, and before Steve really knew it, it was too cold again to use their pool.

Eddie really needed to learn how to swim without a tail.

Eddie follows Steve out of the changing rooms and to the edge of the pool, “ow ow ow,” he picks his way carefully along the tile.

“They’re not that bad,” the anti slip ridges in the tile feel a little weird, but not painful. Eddie just glares at him.

“No one else has a shirt on,” he whispers when he finally makes it to Steve, but he needs to wear it because of the no nipples and no belly button thing.

There’s like two other people in the pool, both older guys swimming laps, “no one cares babe,” Steve whispers, before sitting on the edge and slipping in, the water only coming up as far as his middle. “In you get.”

“This is stupid,” Eddie says as he copies Steve, following him into the water, his trunks ballooning a little with air and the material of his shirt darkening and clinging to his skin.

“Everyone should know how to swim,” Steve tells him for about the fiftieth time.

“Legs are stupid,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve squats down, bringing the water to chin level, “okay come on we’re going to stay right here, now float.”

Eddie does, flopping over, Steve’s hand under his middle to steady him and stop him from sinking if he panics, “good now...kick with your stupid legs.”

“I’m so tired,” Eddie sits curled up on the bench in the changing room while Steve gets dressed.

“You did good though,” and Steve is now confident that Eddie won't actually drown if he falls in some water.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, “I’m so slow now.”

“Yeap, just a regular human guy. How awful for you.” Eddie manages to muster a scowl, “go in the cubicle and get dressed, come on.”

Eddie huffs, but he goes.

Steve’s finger tips leave trails of glittering veils through the air. There’s a sound, far off and diffuse, water, like the steady swish of waves. The air is sparkly, the light soft, and every breath fills his lungs so fully and wonderfully he can’t help but feel it.

“Stevie.”

It comes from far away, and Steve’s more aware of it than he’d like to be, really. He kind of wants to stay here.

“Stevie, come on, I gotta go.”

Steve grumbles, the dream falling away as he nuzzles into the pillow. He cracks one eye open, the shape of Eddie hovering over him in the dark room.

“You’re so cute when you just wake up. Your face is all folded up, like an empty chip packet.”

Steve grunts, “s’early.”

“I know, we have to deliver the bouquet and stuff, and then decorate the church. I wanted to say goodbye before I went. Chris will be here in a minute.”

Steve grumbles, “okay. Love you.”

“I love you, too” and then Eddie is covering Steve’s face with smacking kisses while he tries to escape back beneath the covers.

Eddie bounds off the bed and shouts, “winning!” as he clomps down the stairs.

Steve goes back to sleep.

Steve has his elbows resting on the counter, watching listlessly.

“Stop leaving the sink full of water,” Robin bitches from the bathroom doorway.

“It wasn’t me,” Steve mumbles his protest, not having the energy to fight it.

“Uh hu, it’s one of the many other employees we have here today,” she finishes drying her hands with the paper towel, throwing it in the trash before she lets the door swing shut behind her.

Steve sighs, watching the empty car lot through the glass doors. Robin rolls past on the office chair, then pushes off against the opposite wall and rolls back again, “what’s up with you?”

Steve sighs again, “you ever wonder where...like. Where you’re going? Do you ever think that it might just be this, but forever.”

“I retract my question, go have your midlife crisis some place else.”

Steve bumps his head against the counter, “if this is my midlife I’m dead before I hit forty five, thanks Robs.”

“Is it the crushing and inevitable knowledge that you’re in a dead end job but all the kids are definitely going to go to college when they graduate?”

“Ooof. Nope. Too much, back it up a bit.”

“Okay, how about you still live with your parents?”

“Still quite close to the bone there Robs, thanks, and I don’t live with my parents-”

“Objection. Technicality.”

“...because they aren’t there,” Steve finishes weakly.

“Uh hu.”

“And you, also, live with your parents, I cant help but note.”

She shrugs, “yeah, but not for long. Wait,” she shuffles closer, pulling the chair along, looking up at Steve, being serious for once, “is this because I’m going to college? Because it’s not for a few months yet, and it’s not too far away! We can still see each other on weekends, you can visit-”

Steve sighs, turning away, “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know I just...everyone has direction. Even Eddie with his GED. He’s doing something, you know? Him and Chrissy are growing her business, she has this whole five year plan thing.”

“Yeah, she’s told me about it...in detail...there’s a color coded diagram. But how is that going? The studying thing?”

“Well, he’s only really been working through the books for a couple of weeks, Nancy helped him apply for a couple of evening classes, did I tell you?” Robin shakes her head, “yeah, Math and English, classes start soon, just a couple of nights a week for a semester.”

“That’s so good!”

“Yeah,” Steve feels himself soften, talking about Eddie, “it’s really good. Nancy and all the kids said they’ll help him study.”

“But you don’t have a thing? And you want one?”

“I don’t know I just...feel like I should be aiming higher than Family Video. But I don’t...I really don’t want to go back to school or do college or anything like that, it was never my strong suit, you know?”

Robin gets up to ferret under the desk, pulling out a newspaper, “well then, lets look.”

They have three adds circled when Eddie calls, Steve gets part way through the Family Video spiel when Eddie interrupts him, “Stevie? Can I use the car tonight?”

Steve flicks through his internal calendar a second, “I promised I’d take the kids to the arcade, what do you need it for?”

“I was at the place, you know, centerpieces for the reception,” Steve doesn’t really know, but he knows this wedding has been a lot of work for both Eddie and Chrissy, a job Chrissy wouldn’t have taken on if it was still just her at the shop. But with Eddie’s help, they handled it, and it’s probably going to lead to more of this sort of thing now they know they can do weddings and stuff, “and there was a flyer, a band looking for a guitarist. I called the number and the guy, Gareth, he’s really cool!”

“Right...you want to go meet them?”

“They have practice tonight, I said I only have an acoustic now but they said they could listen and see. Maybe I could get an electric with my savings?” Steve can hear Eddie’s excitement about this practically vibrating down the phone.

“How about I drop you, go get the kids, then come and get you after I drop them home? We’ll probably only be at the arcade a couple of hours anyway.”

“You sure? A lot of, you know, there and back.”

“I know, it’s fine. But you sort the times out with the kids, walkie them when they finish school, okay? I’ll be home around four.”

Eddie hums down the phone, “maybe I should get a car?”

Steve thinks for a second, because, yeah, that would give Eddie more independence, but realistically running another vehicle costs money and they have been managing with sharing the beemer, “we might need to think about cost.”

Eddie hums again, “I think there’s going to be more work with Chrissy. But. Yes, okay. Talk later?”

“Sure babe.”

Steve pulls into a driveway, the garage door open despite the cold, and a drum kit already set up, three guys milling around inside. Eddie is practically getting out of the car before Steve has it in park, hefting his guitar out of the back seat, the excitement coming off him in almost palpable waves.

Well, either that or they do have mind powers, Steve doesn’t know, but it makes him think for a second as he climbs out at a much more sedate pace. Eddie’s already saying hello to Gareth, and now Steve is here, he recognizes these guys from school. Gareth’s already giving him some side eye, which, great.

Because Steve, at some point or other, was probably an absolute prick to these dudes, or at least, a prick to their friends or other band nerds or whatever, “this is Steve,” Eddie is saying.

It’s almost painful when Gareth replies, “yeah, we know who that is,” in a tone that even Eddie can’t possibly miss.

It’s suddenly quiet, and suddenly incredibly fucking awkward, the other two guys still in the garage are watching Steve wearily, “I’ll be back in a few hours for Eddie, that cool?”

“I don’t know man, is it?” And Gareth is now looking at Eddie a little uncertainly, like Eddie is...a bully simply by association.

Steve just shakes his head and backs down, “I’ll see you in a bit,” he tells Eddie, and high tails it out of there. He prays, vaguely, on the way to pick up the kids that those dudes won’t associate Eddie now with Steve’s behavior at school. He second guesses himself all the way to the arcade, Dustin chirruping in his ear, should he have tried to straighten things out? Staying when they clearly still think he’s a massive prick, or worse, actually a danger to them, didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

He remembers smashing Jon’s camera, the whole school would have known about that. The fights he got into. Every time he intimidated someone, surrounded by his sad little army of dickhead jocks. Every shitty thing he’s ever done might just have come back to bite him. Well, worse, if Steve was taking it, it would be fine, he deserves it...but if Eddie’s now being treated badly because he’s friends with Steve well that...that feels shitty.

Steve tries to remember Gareth at School, or Jeff...or the third kid that Steve recognizes but can’t place. Robin would know, he’s pretty sure they were all in band together. He tries to remember if he did anything specifically to any of those guys but he...can’t. He shoved so many kids into open lockers over the years that he’s pretty sure he probably got one of them at some point. Odds are not in his favor, at least.

Steve prays vaguely while watching the kids play games that they’re bigger men than Steve and they will give Eddie the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it’s Eddie, and he can win pretty much anyone over.

Steve hopes.

Steve pulls into the drive, killing the engine. The garage doors are mostly shut, it is still January and fucking freezing. Steve sits and stares absently at the slither of light escaping out from beneath the door. It feels like it’s been dark for hours already, and Steve is caught squinting when the door slides open unexpectedly and the light blinds him a little. Eddie’s sitting on a roughed up couch, sipping something orange out of a glass, his acoustic cradled on his knee. Steve takes a deep breath, and debates getting out of the car.

Eddie makes the choice for him, he gets up, leaving his guitar lent against the arm of the couch, and comes around to the drivers side. Steve opens the door to speak to him, “okay?”

Eddie frowns at him, then looks back at the guys for a second, “Stevie? They told me things about...about you before and I don’t think they’re true-”

“They’re true.” Eddie really frowns then, but what's worse is the clear disappointment.

“I didn’t...I said there was a mistake?” Eddie says gently, hopeful to the last, “when Chrissy said you used to be a prick I didn’t...I didn’t understand then, what she meant. But when they said about...well it made me remember.”

Steve feels a bit sick, “I can’t change it and…it’s no defense but...I was stupid, then...I didn’t understand how much I was hurting people. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say it to me,” Eddie huffs a little, looking away, and disappointing Eddie feels like the worst thing in the world.

“No, yeah, you’re right,” Steve climbs out of the car. And the three guys watch him wearily enough that it really hammers home to Steve just how fucking horrible he’d been some times.

He knows he’s stalling, and he knows he’s fiddling with his hair and he makes himself shove his hands in his pockets instead. All eyes are literally on him, and Steve looks to the side, Eddie looking back at him, eyes big and brown and hopeful. Steve huffs a breath. He can do this.

He’s been tortured by Russians, there’s no way this will be worse. Probably.

“I...was a terrible person. I did shitty things that...absolutely no one has to forgive me for, and I know this is probably way too little way too late. But I am sorry, and I...do get it now. And I regret it. And I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s smiling at him, at least, looking encouraging. And kind of proud.

“So...yeah, I get the damage is done, and I can’t...change it. But Eddie’s a great guy okay? And he’s real excited about being in your band so, yeah, thank you, for having him over. That’s...cool of you.”

“Right,” says Gareth, looking over at the guy Steve is pretty sure is called Jeff, “well that’s...I mean. Thanks. I guess.” Jeff just shrugs.

Steve thinks his body might cave in on itself with how painful this is. He vaguely hopes that he will just disappear into the ground to escape.

“Okay,” Eddie finally says to break the silence.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “whatever, same time next week Eds?”

“Yes!” Eddie has the biggest grin on his face.

“And remember about that electric, yeah?”

Steve makes himself scarce, waiting in the car as the guys say goodbye to Eddie. He watches as Eddie packs away his guitar, getting a round of fist bumps as they wrap up. They’re all smiling and laughing, relaxed again now that Steve’s out of the way, so Steve figures it’s all good.

[wandixx]

Count the freckles, connect them like the stars part 1, Virgo

Summary: Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him

Danny wasn’t quite sure how he went from “visiting Mount Justice to train with the Team” to “half laying on the kitchen island and watching M’gann cook”, but he was glad it happened. He had had rough fight with Skulker the day before, so every opportunity to not move was a salvation. Most likely, rest of the Team left him off the hook exactly because they caught it. They all were cool like that.

He smiled, slowly shifting a little to be more comfortable. He liked watching people doing things they like and know well. There was something mesmerizing about it.

The fact, that he could eat some of whatever she ended up making was a great addition. He was always ravenous when away from an ectoplasm central that was Amity Park.

He followed her hands with his eyes, with chin pillowed on his folded arms. There wasn’t as much she did with them as other people would in kitchen, her telekinesis was certainly a great aid, but there was still enough movement to be transfixed on. Especially today, when something in the back of his mind insisted that there was something unusual about her. She was explaining how she found recipe, on accident when looking for something so different that to this day she wasn’t sure how she ended up with this instead, how it was supposed to be super filling so she hoped they’ll all like it, especially Danny and Wally, because then she could make it somewhat regularly and they could have something more healthy than granola bars. He appreciated sentiment even if he insisted she didn’t have to.

He wondered if there was a polite and not weird way to say he’d eat wet carton if she served it to him.

Small sheet of paper and bullpoint pen landed right in front of him, close enough that he felt air move from them.

“Can you add canned tomatoes to the shopping list? English letters still come out unreadable when I try writing them and do something else”

“Sure”

At this point he stopped trying to explain that being able to write clearly when not looking at the paper was not a skill many people had even if English was only language they could write in. It kept falling on the deaf ears. Apparently it was something Martians just did.

Danny maintained his opinion that if they wanted, Martians could rule whole Solar System. And some nearby star systems. Maybe whole galaxy, in a really distant future.

He straightened up in his seat (ouch, ouch, ouch, his body was not a fan of this move), because unfortunately he needed hands, proper posture and quite a lot of focus to write in a way that would be readable to anyone outside of medical field.

Before he could drop back down, satisfied to just watch world around him without having to interact with it in any way, a freckled hand put a plate of some pasta in front of him. Despite tomatoes, it wasn’t spaghetti, which was neat. He promised Sam to try out vegetarian-Wednesdays and sure, she probably wouldn’t know if he ditched it one time, but still. It was nice that M’gann remembered.

He followed her hand with his eye for a moment longer, not quite ready to let go of whatever seemed to be there. It didn’t look too different from usual. Shade of her skin was the same, her fingers stayed short and slender and her freckles were different, but they never really stayed the same, so it wasn’t that either.

“Quit peeping, start eating” she said cheerily, flicking him on the forehead. He smiled and obediently looked at his meal. Before long though, his eyes flickered back to her. What was different? What was-

There.

“Did you know your freckles look like stars today?”

“They do?”

“Yeah. You have Virgo and Cassiopeia on your right forearm”

“Believe it or not, this tells me nothing. I don’t know Earth names for stars yet”

Right. He was an idiot.

He just barely stopped himself from face planting into his pasta in embarrassment.

“Tell me about them?” she asked quietly, like she wasn’t sure if she could.

Danny took a moment to make sure he heard this question right. Usually people tried to shut him down as soon as he mentioned space because he was prone to getting way too obsessive. It was understandable, it could be endearing when he was younger but now it was just plain annoying. Sam and Tucker sometimes indulged in him, especially after he became halfa, with every interest turned up to eleven, but he could never shake off the feeling that they weren’t really listening at times. He didn’t have anything to prove it, it wasn’t like they were taking out something else to do at the same time or anything, but also… they never asked about anything either. He’d catch himself making some small mistake that they should’ve caught too, mispronounce something they knew or say 19-11 instead of 16-11 when talking about invention of telescope, but there was nothing indicating they heard anything wrong.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to tell her. He just didn’t want to chase her away. M’gann was a good friend.

“Are you sure? I can be pretty annoying about it”

“I want to learn. And you want to tell me”

Danny forgot to breathe for a moment and he wasn’t sure what caused it. M’gann looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m not reading your mind, at least not intentionally, you’d know if I did,” she stammered out quickly “But ghosts feelings are really loud, it’s hard to ignore that. Like… if everyone else’s mind is like a house with closed door, one of the older ones with brick walls and smaller windows and such, ghosts have greenhouses at best. Usually they’re also shouting whatever is inside that could potentially not be visible at the first glance. It’s hard to ignore. In your human form you’re usually just like a house with bigger windows and more see through curtains, but today you’re unusually loud. I think it’s because you’re healing so your ghost side is a bit closer to the surface”

“Ah. Alright, cool, cool”

“I can try to deliberately ignore you if you want, but it’s hard with how loud you are, and I’m not sure I wouldn’t drown out your verbal speech too. There isn’t much difference from my perspective”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do anything, I was just surprised. Just maybe… don’t openly say anything about it? Whatever you hear, I’d kinda prefer to forget you can, for now, okay?”

“Sure thing. So, how does the Virgo look like? I like this name better”

Danny smiled and took pen from the grocery list.

“Virgo is one of the biggest constellations on sky in northern hemisphere and it’s best visible in Spring, so we can go try to find it in few weeks, if you want…”

“You’re asking? I’d love to!” she said with wide smile, sounding far too casual for what she just offered to him.

“Yeah? Cool, cool,” he took deep breath to refocus, because his brain was doing weird things again “I think it’ll be better if I show it to you then, with names of the stars and everything. But people like to make stories about stars, just like with any other aspect of the world around them. I can tell you about that?”

“Yeah, yeah, stop asking, start explaining”

"Okay, so it's a constellation from Babylonian and Greek zodiac. It's associated with goddesses, usually. I never remember the name of the Babylonian one, she was really important one though. Like, queen of gods, I think. Then, through Phoenicians, Greeks learned about Babylonian constellations and decided to adopt it, but they couldn't agree on which goddess should be in reflected in Virgo. So, some said it was Demeter, Goddess of Harvest and all that plant stuff. Others decided it was Cora or Persephone, she had two names, Demeter's daughter, and Godless of Spring and queen of the Underworld, which kinda makes sense, since according to myths, she was more or less trapped in Underworld throughout autumn and winter, and then returned to her mother and happiness of their meeting is what kick-starts the spring. It connects nicely with the fact that Virgo actually gets visible at the start of the Spring but Sun passes through it in autumn, though I'm not sure if some of that isn't caused by slight shift that happens over the course of the years... which is not what I was supposed to talk about sorry"

Feather-light fingers brushed against his hair. He leaned into it with slight smile.

"It's fine. Talk about what gets on your mind, I’m happy to listen," M'gann said gently "So, there were these two possible goddesses who could be represented by this Virgo constellation"

He gently grasped the hand that had this constellation on it, and put a pen down at the first freckle. He haven’t really thought about it, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Actually, there is third one,” he whispered, suddenly feeling like anything louder would be wrong “She is my favorite for the story, though I don't quite know why. It's probably mostly that Demeter and Persephone have their other times to shine and i just don't see them in stars," line was made connecting two freckles -two stars- as if it was astronomical guide. The thin tipped pen needed a bit of pressure before it left the mark behind. M'gann skin dipped under it more than he realized it should "Her name is Astrea, Goddess of Justice and Innocence. She was one of the titans, so before the gods, though specifics aren't really important. She, unlike both titans and gods, lived among humans. Others preferred mountain tops, respectively Othrys and Olympus-"

"Oh! It's the name that humans gave to that volcano on M'arzz, isn't it?" M'gann asked, sounding delighted to connect information he was giving her to something familiar. Danny didn't raise his head from where he was marking her skin. He didn't know why this felt wrong either. There was something almost sacred in it though.

"Yeah. Since it's the biggest mountain in Solar System, so we named it after mythical home of gods"

"That's nice"

For a moment, they sat in silence, interrupted only by slow breaths and humming of the fridge.

"So, Astrea lived among humans. How did she end up among stars?"

"She was one of the Titans, and back when they reigned, it was a mythical Golden Age. Humanity was pure and innocent and only needed what nature provided us, without having to put in any work. There was no change in seasons, so they didn't even have to worry about scarcity of resources in winter" he lightly went over lines he drew between Spica and Porrima so he could continue on his journey down to Syrma and other stars. He didn’t really raise his pen above M’gann’s skin, just eased it away slightly, so it wouldn’t write for a moment “It was a paradise. But then the gods came and overthrown most titans because of feud that isn't really relevant here. This war was called Tytanomachy and was so destructive that it wiped out all of humans. They were remade later, but slightly worse, slightly less pure. Also, seasons became the thing, so they had to develop agriculture and architecture. They were no longer perfect, but still innocent and righteous enough for Astrea to stay. But with time came Bronze and Iron Ages, with weapons and money and wars and impiety, and people became greedy and cruel and unjust and just against everything she really stood for. So she ascended to heavens, and became constellation of Virgo. But she is said to return at the end of times and bring new Golden Age with her"

“It’s… really pretty story. I like how despite this narrative of living in the worst of times, times so bad that even goddess couldn’t handle, there is little bit of hope for return of the paradise”

"Humanity has a lot of hope in it... And also a lot of «grass is greener on the other side» syndrome, with assuming that times before were better and easier, simply because we don't know about problems people faced back then. Just fill in blanks in a way that fits us"

"I mean, this is similar to a way I decided to escape to Earth, and I'm not complaining"

He finished of last line.

"Neither am I. Nor any other person on the Team. And everyone you saved. Are you, perhaps aspect of Astrea walking around us to see if it's right time to return?" he asked, before he realized how stupid and mortifying this idea was. For a moment, they just looked at each other, with this weirdly intimate tension between them, that almost made him consider the chances of his stupid joke having some merit to it before-

M’gann laughed, bright and loud. Danny joined her, but quickly stopped when overtired muscles reminded him why exactly it was a bad idea.

"Shut up and eat your pasta, you dork. It won’t be any good if it’s cold"

[ro-ren31]

I need Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu to give each other affection.

Shang Qinghua has never really gotten much affection. He died alone and then ended up in this world where he had to follow a system, which means he probably didn't allow himself to have to many relationships with other people. Until he eventually met Mobei, except Mobei constantly hurts Shang Qinghua physically and scares him mentally.

On the other hand, we have Shen Qingqiu, who was suddenly deprived of any affection. Even if his family wasn't physically affectionate of couldn't be because he lived away he probably still knew they loved him which would have made up for it. But then he died and became SQQ who doesn't allow any type of care or affection.

SQQ deals with his sudden lack of love and affection with giving all his love to his disciples. Head pats, praise, and always being there for them, the same way he wants someone to do for him. Who knows how SQH has been dealing with his lack of affection in fact he probably doesn't deal with it at all. Keeps himself too busy and it only comes up in the late night when he isn't exhausted enough to immediately fall asleep.

Then they meet each other and suddenly, 'Hey, there's this dude who is going through a very similar situation as me', and they just cling to each other.

[ephemeral-love-4]

Linger

── .✦ Lilia Calderu X Princess! Reader

╰┈➤Chapters : 2/3

Word count :19k

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

I did not look back.

If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave.

So I walked. One foot in front of the other, out of the castle, beyond its towering gates, and into the open world that had once felt so full of possibility. Now, it felt hollow.

The air was thick with the scent of autumn— damp earth, crisp leaves, and the last remnants of summer flowers wilting under the cold. It should have been refreshing, liberating. Instead, it clung to my skin like a suffocating memory.

I told myself this was for the best. That Y/N had made her choice. That I was not the kind of person to stay where I was not wanted.

And yet—

Her voice still echoed in my ears.

"You’re leaving."

She had been breathless, standing in the doorway like some tragic heroine from a tale neither of us would get a happy ending to. And I, foolish, heart-aching fool that I was, had wanted to take her hand and beg her to run away.

But she had said no.

So I walked.

I don’t know how far I traveled that first night, only that my feet ached and the stars blurred as I finally collapsed beneath a thick oak tree. The night was cool, the wind gentle, but I felt neither.

I had thought that putting distance between myself and the castle would make things easier. That once I was away, my heart would stop feeling like it had been carved out of my chest and left bleeding in her hands.

I was wrong.

Everything reminded me of her.

The delicate white flowers blooming at the roadside— just like the ones that grew in the castle garden, where she had once twirled a petal between her fingers, laughing as I teased her for her absentmindedness.

The way the wind whispered through the trees— too much like her laughter on those rare days when she let herself be carefree.

Even the sky, deep and endless, reminded me of nights spent talking until dawn, of stolen moments where it felt like the world was ours alone.

I should not have left so soon.

I should have left sooner.

Days passed. Or maybe weeks. I didn’t keep track.

I wandered through villages, stayed in inns where no one knew my name, drifted between places like a ghost that didn’t know where to rest.

I should have felt free. This was the life I had always lived— unbound, untethered. No duties, no titles, no expectations.

And yet I felt caged.

Because freedom had never felt like wandering alone.

Freedom had felt like her hand in mine, pulling me through the castle walls, her laughter spilling into the cool evening air.

It had felt like long conversations beneath autumn leaves, bickering over ridiculous things just to fill the silence.

It felt like waking up in a bed that was too small for two, but somehow never uncomfortable.

I clenched my fists.

This was pathetic.

I was not some lovesick fool. I was not the kind of person who mourned things that were never meant to be.

And yet here I was, standing in the middle of a quiet village, staring at a marketplace stall because the scent of freshly baked pastries reminded me of the way her room always smelled in the morning.

I turned away sharply, disgusted with myself.

This had to stop.

I had left to outrun my grief, but it had followed me like a shadow.

Maybe it wasn’t something I could escape.

Maybe it was something I had to carry.

And that—

That terrified me more than anything.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The village was small— quaint, even. The kind of place where people knew each other by name, where shopkeepers greeted passersby with warm smiles, where life moved at a pace so slow it felt almost frozen.

I did not belong here.

And yet, my feet carried me through its cobbled streets, past vendors calling out their wares, past children chasing each other in the open square, past a baker kneading dough in the window of his shop.

It smelled like cinnamon and honey. Like warmth. Like home.

I swallowed hard and kept walking.

I didn’t know where I was going. I hadn’t known for days, maybe weeks. But stopping— settling— felt unbearable. If I stopped, I would have to think.

And thinking meant remembering.

I let my mind drift, let my body move on instinct alone. A field stretched before me, golden with the last remnants of autumn. The wind stirred the grass, bending it in waves, and for a brief moment, I could almost pretend I was somewhere else.

That I was someone else.

Someone who didn’t ache with every breath.

Someone who hadn’t left a piece of herself behind.

I didn’t realize I had stopped moving until I felt the cool touch of grass beneath my fingertips. When had I knelt down? When had my legs given out?

I pressed a hand to my chest, as if that could steady the hollow ache there.

This wasn’t grief.

Grief was mourning something lost, something past.

This was something crueler. This was knowing what could have been and watching it slip through my fingers.

I clenched my jaw, forced a breath past the tightness in my throat.

I had told myself I was leaving to forget her.

But I had been lying.

I wasn’t trying to forget.

I was trying to outrun the truth.

That no matter how far I went, no matter how many villages I passed through, no matter how much distance I put between myself and that castle—

She would always be there.

In the scent of autumn flowers. In the way the sky stretched endlessly above me. In the quiet moments, when the world was still and my thoughts crept in like ghosts I could not banish.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

What was I supposed to do?

Go back?

No.

She had made her choice.

And I— I had made mine.

Then why did it feel like I had lost?

The wind shifted, carrying the distant sound of a bell from the village. Evening was settling in. The world continued moving forward, indifferent to the war waging in my chest.

I let out a slow breath and rose to my feet.

I couldn’t stay here.

I had nowhere to go, but I couldn’t stay.

So I did what I had been doing for days now.

I walked.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

One evening, as I sat by a campfire in the woods, I found myself staring at my hands.

Calloused from years of travel. Hands that had once held hers without hesitation.

I had always thought I was strong. Untouchable. Someone who could leave the past behind without a second thought.

But here I was. Alone. Lost. Haunted.

I exhaled, tilting my head back. The stars winked down at me, indifferent to my sorrow.

For the first time since I left, I asked myself a question I had been avoiding.

What am I doing?

I left because I couldn’t bear to watch her marry someone else. I left because I thought distance would make the pain easier.

But it hadn’t.

Running hadn’t made me forget. It had only made me realize how much I had to lose.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to say it.

I love her.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I should move on.

I should keep walking, find another place, another life, another purpose.

That was what I had been telling myself since the moment I left.

But every road I took, every village I passed through, every empty inn room I slept in— it all led me back to one undeniable truth.

I didn’t want any of it.

I didn’t want to build a new life somewhere else. I didn’t want to forget.

I wanted her.

I wanted to see her smile again, even if it wasn’t for me. I wanted to hear her voice, even if it wasn’t calling my name. I wanted to stand in the same place, breathe the same air, even if it meant enduring the pain of knowing I could never have her.

Even now, as I sat by a dwindling fire in the middle of nowhere, my mind refused to let go of her.

The way she had looked at me that night, breathless and wide-eyed.

The way her voice had cracked when she asked if I was leaving.

The way she hadn’t denied it when I accused her of pretending this meant nothing.

I had left because I thought I had no choice. Because I thought I couldn’t bear to watch her marry someone else.

And yet—

A selfish, desperate part of me whispered that maybe she had missed me, even a little. That maybe, despite everything, she had wanted to ask me to stay.

What if I had been wrong?

What if there was still something left to fight for?

The fire crackled beside me, casting flickering shadows against the trees. I stared into the flames, my heart pounding in my chest.

I had been running for so long. Wandering, searching— except I hadn’t truly been searching for anything.

Because the answer had always been the same.

There was no moving on from this.

No running far enough to erase what I felt.

No road that wouldn’t lead me back to her.

I clenched my fists, inhaling sharply.

Tomorrow, I would turn back.

I didn’t know what I would find when I returned. I didn’t know if it would change anything.

But I couldn’t keep running.

Not anymore.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I had expected pain.

I had expected regret, guilt, sorrow— every agonizing thing I had carried with me since the night I left.

But I hadn’t expected this.

The castle was silent.

Not in the way of sleeping cities, nor in the hush of courtly restraint. This was something else. Something heavier.

Something dead.

I had been gone for over a year, and yet the city I returned to felt as though it had aged a lifetime. The streets that had once been alive with music and revelry, that had celebrated a wedding I could not bear to witness, were muted now. The banners that had flown so proudly were gone. The air was thick— not with the scent of autumn this time, but with the kind of stillness that follows loss.

The castle gates stood open, unguarded, as if the city no longer feared intruders. Or perhaps it no longer had the energy to care.

I should not have come back.

I knew that now.

But I had been foolish enough to believe that I could return and still find her here. That after all my wandering, after all my empty, desperate attempts to outrun grief, I would still have time.

Then I heard it.

A name spoken in hushed whispers.

A story retold with solemn voices.

The queen, they said. Taken too soon.

The queen.

The words hardly made sense. They were foreign, distant, like something spoken in another language.

I didn’t move. I hardly breathed.

Someone, a merchant, muttered that it had been childbirth. That the gods themselves had demanded too much.

Someone else— an old woman— sighed that it had been bound to happen. That she had always been too fragile for this world. That no amount of love, no amount of devotion, could have saved her from fate.

My vision blurred.

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the rest of their words.

No.

No, this was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

I had spent a year away. A year convincing myself that if I ever returned, I could fix something.

There was nothing left to fix.

Nothing left to return to.

The castle no longer belonged to her. The throne, the halls, the life that should have been hers— empty now. Given to another.

And somewhere within these walls, buried beneath cold stone, was the only person I had ever loved.

I do not remember moving.

I do not remember my hands pushing open the great doors of the castle, my feet moving through halls I had once known so well. The guards did not stop me. The servants did not question me.

Perhaps they recognized me. Perhaps they saw the grief in my eyes and knew there was no need to bar my path.

I walked through the corridors in a daze, past grand staircases and towering windows, past candlelit hallways that no longer carried the warmth of her presence.

She had once stood here.

She had once lived here.

And now she was nowhere.

I do not know how I found my way to the crypts.

One moment, I was walking through the empty castle. The next, I was standing before a carved stone door, cold and unyielding beneath my trembling hands.

I pushed it open.

The air inside was still. Heavy. The scent of old stone and extinguished candles filled my lungs, suffocating me. The dim light flickered against the walls, casting long, cruel shadows over the rows of silent tombs.

And then I saw her name.

The moment I did, the world caved in.

My knees hit the ground before I even realized I had fallen. My fingers dug into the frozen stone, tracing the letters as if I could will them to be anything but what they were.

Y/N.

Beloved Queen. Taken too soon.

I could not breathe.

I had left her.

I had left her, and now she was gone.

No second chances. No stolen moments. No final goodbyes.

I had waited too long to come back.

Now, there was nothing left.

I pressed my forehead against the stone, my body trembling as I exhaled a shaking breath.

For the first time in my life, I did not know who I was without her.

For the first time, I had nowhere left to go.

A voice cut through the silence.

“You came back.”

I did not look up.

Footsteps echoed against the stone, slow and measured. I felt him before I saw him— the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud, thick with things unspoken.

The king.

Her husband.

Edric.

The man she had chosen.

I lifted my head, my hands still resting against the stone that bore her name. He stood a few steps away, dressed in mourning black, though his face was eerily calm. Tired, maybe. Resigned.

I hated him.

Not in the way of enemies, not with the kind of hatred that burns and devours. No, this hatred was something quieter, deeper. It was the resentment of knowing he had been the one to stand beside her at the end. That while I had been wandering, lost in my own grief, he had been here.

He had lived the life that could have been mine.

He exhaled softly, stepping closer. “I thought you might return one day.”

I swallowed against the knot in my throat. My voice came out hollow. “And yet you buried her without me.”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the carved letters between us. “She would not have wanted you to see her like that.”

I flinched.

The thought of her— fragile, fading, slipping beyond reach— was unbearable.

I pressed my palm against the stone, as if I could feel anything beyond the cold. “She suffered.”

He hesitated, then nodded.

The weight of it settled into my chest, heavy and unmovable. I had left to spare myself pain, and yet she had borne it alone.

“I loved her.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“I know.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made me look up sharply. He was watching me, not with anger, not with jealousy, but something else entirely. Something that looked too much like understanding.

“She never said it outright,” he continued, voice soft, “but I knew. I saw it in the way she spoke about you. The way she carried your absence like a wound that never healed.”

I clenched my jaw. “Then why did she—”

“Because duty is a cruel thing.” His expression darkened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “And because she thought she was doing the right thing.”

I closed my eyes.

The right thing.

She had always been so determined to do what was best for others, even at the cost of her own happiness. Even at the cost of us.

The king crouched beside me, his voice quieter now. “She never forgot you.”

The words hurt more than I expected.

“She kept the flowers you gave her,” he murmured. “Carried them in her books, pressed them between pages. Even on the worst days, she—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I think a part of her was always waiting for you.”

A sharp, broken sound left my throat.

Too late.

I had come back too late.

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then, finally, he spoke again. “You can stay.”

I turned to him, frowning.

He met my gaze, steady and sure. “I won’t stop you.”

Stay.

In the castle that was no longer hers. In the halls that no longer echoed with her laughter. In a place that felt like a graveyard of what once was.

I shook my head. “I don’t belong here.”

His expression didn’t change. “Then where will you go?”

I didn’t have an answer.

He sighed, standing. “She would want you to find peace.”

Peace.

The thought was almost laughable.

I traced the letters of her name one last time. Then, with great effort, I rose to my feet.

“I don’t think I ever will,” I admitted.

The king said nothing. He only stepped aside, allowing me to pass.

As I walked away, leaving her behind for the second time, I realized something.

The first time, I had left believing I would see her again.

This time, I knew I never would.

The halls felt empty.

Not in the way that abandoned places did, not with dust and decay and silence— but empty in the way that came from absence.

Her absence.

The air still carried a faint trace of her, woven into the fabric of the castle, lingering in the soft candlelight and the distant echoes of footsteps.

I had been a fool to come back.

I should have turned and left the moment I realized she was gone. There was nothing here for me anymore.

And yet—

A sound stopped me in my tracks.

A cry.

Faint, but unmistakable.

A baby’s cry.

Something cold curled in my stomach as I followed the sound, my feet moving of their own accord. I shouldn’t. I didn’t need to see. I didn’t need to know.

But my hand was already on the door.

It creaked as it swung open, revealing a small, dimly lit chamber.

And there, in a cradle near the window, was a child.

Her child.

My breath caught.

The baby’s cries softened as I stepped closer, its tiny face scrunched in distress. A nursemaid hovered nearby but made no move to interfere as I knelt beside the cradle, my fingers trembling as I reached out.

Soft.

Its skin was soft beneath my fingertips, warm and alive and real.

A weight settled in my chest, too heavy to bear.

She had died for this.

For this.

A life she would never get to see. A child she would never get to hold.

I swallowed hard, my fingers gently tracing the curve of a tiny cheek.

“You look just like her,” I murmured.

The door behind me opened.

I didn’t turn.

The king’s voice was quiet. “She begged for the child’s name with her last breath.”

I closed my eyes.

“She wanted the baby to be named Lilia.”

Something inside me shattered.

A broken sound escaped my lips as I gripped the edge of the cradle, my body trembling with the force of everything I could not say.

Even in death, she had not let me go.

I forced myself to breathe.

To steady the storm inside me.

“She was thinking of you,” the king said, softer now. “Even at the end.”

I opened my eyes.

The baby stirred beneath my touch, tiny hands curling into fists. So small. So fragile.

A piece of her— left behind.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I left.

I didn’t look back. Not this time.

The castle, the halls, the child left behind— none of it was mine. I told myself I had done what was right. That staying would have been cruel, selfish. The child was safe, cared for. Y/N was gone.

There was nothing left for me there.

So I walked.

I didn’t count the days anymore. They blurred together, indistinguishable from one another. Villages passed, rivers flowed, seasons shifted, and still, I wandered. I thought time would dull the ache, but it never did. It only settled deeper inside me, bone-deep, inescapable.

I barely felt the cold anymore when I lay beneath the stars. I barely noticed the hunger when I went without food for days.

But I always noticed the absence.

I had lived with loss before. I had lost things, people, places, but this— this was different. This was a wound that wouldn’t close.

I was tired.

So, so tired.

That night, I let myself rest beneath an ancient oak, the gnarled roots curled around me like the arms of something old and knowing. I let the exhaustion pull me under, let myself slip away into sleep—

And when I opened my eyes, I was in the garden.

Not any garden. Our garden.

The wind was soft, carrying the scent of flowers in bloom. The lanterns were lit, casting warm golden light along the stone pathways. It was peaceful. Familiar.

And then—

“Lilia...”

The sound of my name struck like a heartbeat stopping.

I turned.

She was there.

Y/N.

She stood bathed in moonlight, watching me with the same eyes that had haunted my every waking moment. She looked just as she always had— warm, beautiful, alive.

I couldn’t breathe.

“I must be dreaming,” I whispered.

She smiled, tilting her head. “Of course you are.”

My hands trembled at my sides. “Then you aren’t real.”

“No,” she said softly, “but I am here.”

My throat burned. I had imagined this moment so many times— what I would say if I could just see her again, if I could tell her everything I never had the chance to. But now, standing before her, words failed me.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I should have stayed.”

She shook her head. “You did what you thought was right.”

“It wasn’t right.” My voice cracked. “I ran. I left you behind.”

“You left,” she agreed, her tone gentle. “But you never let me go.”

I looked away. I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear this.

“I miss you,” I whispered. It felt pitiful, empty, but it was all I had.

She took a step closer. “I know.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I can’t move on.”

“You can,” she said. “You just don’t want to.”

I clenched my fists. “Then what do you want me to do? Forget you?”

Her expression didn’t change. “No. I want you to live.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know how.”

She sighed, stepping closer. Her hand lifted, brushing against my cheek. It felt real. Warm. I leaned into it, desperate for something solid to hold onto.

“Forgive yourself,” she murmured. “Then I’ll forgive you too.”

My breath shuddered. “I don’t think I can.”

“You will,” she promised.

The garden seemed to shimmer, the edges of the dream growing soft, dissolving like ink in water.

Panic seized me. “Wait—”

She smiled, so heartbreakingly familiar, and leaned in.

A kiss— gentle, lingering, filled with everything unspoken, everything lost.

And then—

She was gone.

I woke with the taste of a memory on my lips and the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Moving on did not happen all at once.

At first, it was just surviving. Waking up. Walking. Eating when I remembered. Sleeping when exhaustion won over grief. There were days I barely felt human— more ghost than person, more shadow than light. But I kept going. Because I had to. Because Y/N had asked me to.

The first decade was the hardest.

I wandered still, but not with the same reckless abandon. I found places to rest, even if I never stayed long. Villages, cities, forests— I drifted between them all. Always leaving before I could belong. Before I could let anyone belong to me.

People came and went. Some were kind, offering warm meals and places to stay. Others were cruel, looking to take advantage of a lone traveler. None of them mattered. Not really.

But time softened me. Slowly, painfully.

The first time I laughed after she was gone, it startled me. It had been so long since I’d felt something other than grief that I almost didn’t recognize the sound.

The first time I stayed somewhere longer than a season, it felt foreign.

The first time I let someone matter— not in the way Y/N did, never like that— but as a friend, it terrified me.

But I kept going.

I worked when I needed to. Lived where I could. There was no grand purpose, no great journey to define my life. Just time, stretching endlessly before me.

And slowly, I learned to fill it.

Decades passed, and the memories no longer hurt like open wounds. They became something quieter— something bittersweet.

I could look at flowers without remembering the garden where we once stood. I could hear laughter without mourning what I had lost.

I still thought of her. I always would.

But the grief was no longer a weight that drowned me. It became a part of me, something I carried, something I honoured. Something I let linger

A century passed, and I could finally say her name without breaking.

Y/N had asked me to live.

And though it took a hundred years, I finally did.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[ghostgirl-22]

hear me out… remote vibrator follow up where they do it again when Tashi’s around and she doesn’t know what they’re up to right away. naturally, she picks up on it. Art puts up a little fight about doing it in front of her, but Patrick knows the idea is secretly just as thrilling to Art as it is to him

oof! This is from 100 years ago. Sorry my love!

CW: 18+, NSFW, sex in public, not quite exhibitionism but also not, not exhibitionism.

—-

One of Tashi’s favorite things is when they talk without saying anything.  one doesn’t even have to complete a sentence for the other to understand it. the way they act, mirroring each other, it’s like how lovers act when they’ve known each other forever. She clocked them right away. Longing looks. Biting sighs. Her boyfriend and his best friend want to fuck each other if they haven’t already. They’re barely able to hide it anymore. and god does it turn her on. 

She admits, she does get a little frustrated sometimes, it’s like trying to have a conversation with two people where everything they say is an inside joke. 

Like tonight. 

Only Patrick would let his best friend crash a Valentines day date. Only Tashi would put up with it. it’s like she’s dating both of them. It’s like they’re dating each other. Patrick’s just grinning at Art all through dinner, while Art glares back at him antsy and barely able to meet his gaze. “Okay what’s going on?” She finally asks, looking between them. 

“Hm… nothing,” Art says quickly. 

“One of us lost a bet,” Patrick smirks. “Again.” 

She grins and focuses on Art. “What did you bet on?”    

“Uh it doesn’t matter.” Art says quickly and he looks to Patrick, eyes glassy, cheeks coloring.   

“He thought he could handle his liquor better than me but I’m the undisputed champ,” Patrick pets her thigh and then drops his phone on the table in front of her. It’s an app with what looks like a volume button labeled from 0 to 10. Right now it’s at a 1. 

“What is this?” She asks. 

“His punishment,” Patrick says gently. 

Tashi cocks her head, looking between him and Art, a little smile on her face. “I don’t get it?” 

“Well… pick a number.” Patrick says and Art shakes his head. 

“Patrick don’t, come on… she’s…” 

“Ten,” Tashi interrupts. 

Patrick grins and Art’s mouth falls open. “You really wanna do that to him?” 

“I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, Patrick so yeah. Let’s go all the way.” Tashi says, only mildly annoyed. “He’s not gonna die is he?” 

“Nah,” Patrick says,”unless you can die of embarrassment.”

art shakes his head. “No Tashi you don’t understand, It’s a restaurant… this is public we could get in trouble.” his blush is getting out of control, he’s kinda gorgeous.

“Oh come on, it’s packed,” Patrick grins. “No one’s even paying attention.”  He slides the dial up slowly. Tashi’s a pretty quick study. Something inside her had a feeling they were doing something sexual. Still, watching Art squirm in his seat, skin heated, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut as he sits on his palms, gently rocking, trying not to come from whatever device Patrick is controlling… Tashi squeezes her thighs together. 

Patrick chuckles and slides it back down to one. Art is still squirming, sitting on his hands. Tashi’s a little fixated on him. His chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks at her, pleading in his eyes, like she might be the only one who can save him from big mean Patrick. There’s something else in his expression too. Something dirtier. Needier. He fucking likes this.

“What do you think?” Patrick asks. His eyes are all sparkly, mischievous, Tashi can practically see through to the deceptively charming boy that he probably was as a kid. 

The idea of Art losing a bet and Patrick’s first thought being to make him wear a sex toy that he can play with. The idea that Art would just…go along with it. There’s something so deeply fucked up about them. So fundamentally messy. 

“What kinda toy is it?” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder, trying to act nonchalant but she’s wet. This whole thing has her feeling a little crazy. 

“Vibrator,” Patrick says, pulling her ponytail back where it was, he leans in close because he’s got no concept of personal space but also so he can whisper. “Cock ring tight over the head of his dick.”

Tashi swallows and glances back at Art. 

“He’s crazy…it’s his crazy idea.” Art says like he’s not complicit, like he’s not wiggling in his seat, voice all breathy. Eyes shining. 

“Oh you’re both crazy,” she says softly but she reaches for Patricks phone anyway. “Maybe I should be in charge for a while.

Patrick smirks at her. “Whatever you want.” 

Art looks relieved for a moment before she slides it back up to three. He can barely focus on his desert. Instead he’s just trying to hold it in, sucking on his spoon, eyes dilated. Can’t even look at the waitress who’s been flirting with him all night when she comes back with the check. 

It goes like that for the rest of the night. Tashi takes a turn and then Patrick. Art getting more and more desperate. He seems to realize that Patrick is the one playing good cop. He gives Art a little break after dinner, they share a cigarette while they wait for a cab to the club, Patrick standing too close to him, fingers in his hair. Telling him he’s taking it so well. Art with his lips parted, like a little magnet, drawn to Patrick’s every lingering touch. Tashi thinks she knows what he needs. 

She makes Art sit in the middle seat when they crowd into the cab and snatches the phone back from Patrick. 

Their driver is so talkative. Wants to know everything about them and tell them everything about San Francisco. And Patrick’s just engaging him. “Oh we all go to Stanford,” he lies. “Straight As.”

“Tashi please,” Art whispers but she just smiles. 

“Relax. I’m just checking to see if he’s texting other girls.” She pats his upper thigh and immediately she can feelthe hot, hard line of his dick resting on his thigh, the device fixed over it. He lets out a sharp intake of breath. Patrick’s watching them as their driver goes on and on about the city. Patrick’s got a silly little grin on his face as Tashi slides her palm up and down Art’s length, it has the same effect on Art as if she’d turned on the device. He’s breathless, kicking his leg forward gasping, biting back on a whispered “fuck.” 

Tashi uses her free hand to turn it up and she can feel it vibrating against her palm. Eventually he’s turning into her. Breathing in her ear, hot and heavy. She wiggles in her seat. “It’s okay,” she whispers.  

It’s barely five minutes before he’s moaning, lips pressed against her ear, her cheek. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. It’s… I’m gonna… I’m…I’m…” he can’t help getting a little too loud. She feels it as his dick spasms and he’s probably spurting come all inside his boxers,  gasping softly into her ear.   

“Everything okay?” The driver wants to know. Obliviously chatty with Patrick this whole time but his concerned gaze flickers to Tashi, to Art.  “He’s not going to throw up is he? Because I can pull over.” 

“Oh he’s fine,” Tashi says, her voice lighter than normal. She cups her palm around the side of Art’s face and turns down the device with her other hand. “He’s good.”

”A bit of carsickness but he’s fine,” Patrick waves it off. 

“Well let me know. I can pull over.” 

Patrick gives her an amused look and she pets art, letting him rest on her shoulder as he catches his breath.

They’re just outside the club waiting to get in and Patrick is playful. “You little slut, right in the backseat. You can’t control yourself, can you?” He teases, bodying Art up against the wall of the club they’re waiting to get into. 

“‘m not a slut. T-Tashi… Tashi turned it up,” Art points out. Flustered for the way Patrick is using his size against him.  

“Snitch,” Tashi says quietly to Art. She’s looking over other settings on the app. Pulse, vibrate, massage. She sets it to pulse and switches it back on to one. Art gasps.   

“God Tashi,” Patrick leans against the wall next to Art and reaches for her, she steps closer and he pulls her by the wrist, closer still, before taking the phone back and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You like it too much.” 

“No i don’t,” she says softly. 

“Yeah right, you’re so fucking wet aren’t you?” he whispers. She rolls her eyes, but he knows her well enough by now. They’re basically standing directly in front of Art when he kisses her. So close, Patrick grins at Art when she pulls away. Hes such a brat. 

He gets his turn inside the club. They’re downing shots. Patrick buys a bottle and they get a spot in VIP. They’re drinking way too much and dancing with strangers, with each other all night. Tashi with Patrick, Patrick with Art, Art grinding against her. That’s when Patrick turns it up, like he’s giddy to see what will happen with the vibration between the two of them.

She can feel it, pulsing hard against her wet panties as Art is basically pressed up against her. He falls onto the big square sofa seating in the center and she follows him, grinding down against his thigh and he’s immediately falling apart. Fingers in her hair, moaning into her. It’s basically simulated sex, dress riding up her thighs, panties soaked. knees dug in on either side, she’s riding the pulsation while the music sounds, TI Whatever you Like blaring too loud on the speakers.  And before she realizes what’s happening she’s kissing him, gripping him, coming on his lap. 

Art’s looking up at her after, breathless, like he’s in love. “Guess i took care of both of you.” Patrick says, grinning. “Two for the price of one.” He leans in to kiss Tashi and she sighs against his lips. Shivering for the gentle heat of it.

Then he sits next to Art… and teases his hair out of his eyes before pecking his lips. Art pulls him close and kisses him properly. Tashi giggles, still settled on Art’s lap while people all around their section are still screaming the song lyrics, drunkenly dancing, lifting drinks, spilling. It’s actually her favorite thing. 

She snatches the phone from Patrick’s waiting hand. She doesn’t feel it anymore so he must’ve shut it off. But she thinks maybe Art has a little more in him. She opens the app and slides it back up.

(Playing fast and loose with time, technology, phones, apps, music and the challengers story/characters but… also… yay i think this vibrator could have fixed them!)

[concretejunglefm]

So human error had me accidentally posting this instead of drafting; however, I hope this fits even remotely what you were hoping for, anon 💕 I hope you don't mind that I added a little angst at the end for something extra 🫣

CW: mentions of grinding, nipple play, light choking.

WC: 2.5k.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

Truthfully, Noah doesn't want to be here.

The moment he stepped through the door and realized this place was a strip club, he should’ve turned and walked back out immediately. But unfortunately, he didn’t.

Now, he’s stuck entertaining his friend, one he mentally chooses to exclude from his list of people to hang out with the next time he’s feeling stressed out and needs to unwind.

“Just a club soda for me, thanks,” he tells the waitress who happens to pass by them, which prompts his friend to roll his eyes and reach across, slapping him playfully on the chest.

“Come on, you’re here to have fun tonight.”

Noah grimaces at the thought. Watching girls dance half-naked and having a private lap dance isn’t exactly what he calls ‘fun.’ Even though the place is considered a high-end establishment, it’s simply not his scene, something obvious in the way his eyes constantly avoid looking at any of the dancers, offering only a brief nod and a forced smile of acknowledgement when they glance down at him when walking past.

“I think maybe I'm going to—”

“Ah, there she is!” Noah’s friend interrupts him as you approach, and all his plans about leaving vanish instantly when he locks eyes with you.

Like most of the dancers, you’re wearing something lacy, though it covers you enough to leave some areas to the imagination. Half of your face is obscured by a mask, like some of the others, presumably to conceal your identity and enhance the club’s allure. However, his eyes momentarily flicker to your lips and the shade of lipstick. Suddenly, he’s consumed by an intense desire to smudge it, to witness how your lips would appear plump and kiss-swollen.

He shakes his head, pushing those thoughts aside. After spending too much time in the studio, neglecting most of his needs, sexualizing the first woman he sees isn’t how he intends to resolve that issue. However, he can’t help but allow his eyes to wander back to you, this time more shyly, when he catches you actually moving towards him, your hand extending and resting upon his shoulder.

“Who’s your friend?”

Noah hadn’t caught the conversation between you and his friend, but his eyes widen almost comically when he raises his gaze to meet yours through the eye holes of your mask. “Noah…” he swallows, managing to utter the syllables of his name through a tightening throat.

“He’s been quite overworked lately. It seems he’s forgotten all about how to have some fun, if you know what I mean.” Noah shoots his friend a disapproving look, but your quick reach for his hand silences any protest.

“Well, I know a thing or two about helping with that,” you giggle, and it sounds smooth like honey, making his chest burst a little. He hesitates to follow you as you tug on his hand, a gentle indication for him to stand. He doesn’t want to slip away into some private room, which would make this encounter feel more seedy than it should be. Yet, he finds himself already completely enamored by you. Whether it’s the mystery of you hidden beneath the mask or the allure you generally radiate, he’s drawn to you as if there’s a magnetic pull keeping him from straying away.

“Have fun,” his friend calls out after him. Noah briefly glances back, finding himself almost on autopilot as he obediently follows you towards a private area near the club’s back.

When you’re alone in one of the private rooms, he falls into the seat you push him down into and slightly shifts, his nerves settling as he realizes you’re the only person he can now focus on.

“You don't have to do this.” Noah attempts to dismiss the offer, the dance, the opportunity to relax, or whatever is being presented to him at this moment, but your response is simply a scoff.

“Is this where you tell me that my dad loved me?” You roll your eyes, bracing yourself for the usual charade from a guy who expects to swoop in and ‘save’ you from this life. “Surprisingly, I have a great relationship with my family.” You move towards him, intending to settle down on his lap by straddling him, but pause before doing so.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant… I’ve never done this before,” Noah confesses, feeling the tip of his ears turn red. He lifts a hand to his neck, rubbing his palm against it, and shifts in his seat.

“Wait, really?” You don’t mean for the surprise to escape in your voice as it does, and you step back a little, placing your hands on your hips as you observe his awkward shifts and continued avoidance of your gaze.

“Yes, does that really surprise you?” He chuckles, but it’s slightly forced, and his eyes finally meet yours once more. He’s once again captivated by the allure that seems to draw him in. There’s an odd sense of familiarity that sends a warmth through his chest, though he can’t quite place it. The way you’re looking at him now certainly makes his stomach flip. He can’t tell if you’re pitying him or ready to make him prey, but he doesn’t care either way.

“No, it’s just… I’ve noticed your friend here quite frequently.” You chuckle and shake your head. “I suppose I anticipated the same from anyone he brings here.”

“So, this is your first time? I suppose that implies I should be gentle with you.” You purr, leaning forward, your hands returning to his shoulders as you squeeze them for stability before moving closer and twisting yourself to position your back to him.

Reaching behind you, you place your hands on his thighs, spreading them as you use them to maintain your balance. Slowly, you lower your ass down to meet his lap. “Let me know if you need me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Noah says, his voice strained.

As you lower yourself and rub your covered ass against his crotch, he feels his cock instantly harden within his pants. He’s already worked up, but the proximity of you to him, the intoxicating scent, and the magnetic pull all combine to send his head spinning with arousal. Instinctively, his hands reach out and grasp you at your waist, stopping you.

“It happens to every guy you know,” you say with a laugh, making him realize that you felt it. In your line of work, it’s more of a compliment than a form of harassment.

“I know it’s just... it’s been a while.” he says, his voice tinged with embarrassment. You imagine that if you turned to look at him now, he might have a beetroot-colored face. Instead, you take his hands and begin to gently guide them up your sides.

“Well, we do offer other services here.” While your clientele has always been those who come for either a show or a personal release, you rarely cater to the latter. However, you can’t help but feel compelled when you have a man as handsome as Noah beneath you, as you do right now.

“No that’s... wait really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth as you feel his fingers gently caress your skin in circular motions.

Suddenly, he pulls you down onto his lap.

“You mentioned it’s been a while. Could I ask why?” you ask, allowing him to take the initiative slightly as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your bare stomach.

“Work.” He responds with a single word, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You deliberately press your hips down and grind your ass against his crotch.

“What do you do?”

“Music.” Another one-word answer, but you hear the groan he’s trying to suppress and choose to interpret it as a triumph. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the studio and…” he gasps as you roll your hips, brushing against his bulge and feeling the outline of his cock against you. Suddenly, you feel the heat rising in your own stomach, especially when his hands shift to your thighs, gripping you almost possessively to hold you against him. It makes you tremble and as you try to move, you hear him growl, “Don’t.”

He can’t release you yet, not when he’s already been feeling worked up and touch-starved. You’ve barely touched him, yet he’s experiencing an entirely new surge of desire.

Instead of moving, you gently rock your hips, circling them as your ass drags and grinds against his crotch. You listen to the change in his breath and feel how his cock twitches beneath you, confined within his pants. “Please?” you almost plead, and it results in a strained whimper from him, his fingers only pressing harder against your thighs.

“Noah, tell me what you need.” Your voice lowers, becoming soft and alluring as you lean back against his chest, turning your head and gently brushing your cherry red painted lips against the apple tattoo that covers his Adam’s apple.

Your breath, warm against his skin, sends a wave of goosebumps across him, causing his breath to catch in his throat. He can’t possibly be contemplating asking and accepting your offer, can he? It feels selfish to request anything from you, especially since you’re just a stranger. Nevertheless, he can’t deny that you’ve somehow worked your way beneath his skin, a mysterious stranger who calls themselves honey, or perhaps cherry, or pixie? He can’t quite recall the exchange between you and his friend during introductions, but he’s certain he feels an overwhelming desire to have you.

“You…” he whispers, his fingers finally releasing their grip on your thighs before they begin to slide, gliding along your inner thighs before ascending, stroking across your stomach and further up the exposed area of your torso, before slipping beneath the lace that covers your chest.

Your back arches against him as his hand palms at your breast, his fingers playfully teasing your nipples and producing a faint sound from you. Normally, you’d swiftly slap away a client who dared to behave this boldly, yet you find yourself leaning into his touch, yearning for more of it, more of him. His name slips from your lips as a soft whisper as you begin to grind against him once more, and your head rests on his shoulder, savoring the sensation of his fingers twisting your nipple.

Noah’s other hand raises higher, fingers light against your skin as they close around your neck and gently press, causing you to gasp; “Harder.” Your eyes roll back at the faint pressure he adds, his fingers pinching harder at your nipples as your hips rock and grind, almost desperately trying to soothe the ache between your thighs instead of focusing solely on relieving him. However, Noah doesn’t seem to mind; you hear the encouraging whispers from him against the side of your head.

“Show me how needy you are.”, “Do you like being touched like this?”, “Do you like your nipples being toyed with?”

The only sounds you make are soft moans, accompanied by faint “yeses” that gradually fade into breathless gasps as you intensify your grinding and whines steadily increase the closer you feel yourself approaching the edge.

Beneath you, Noah can feel his cock straining against the restrictive fabric of his pants, yearning for freedom and an even greater desire to be inside you. However, he knows that he can’t bring himself to request that of you, instead choosing to accept this arrangement, allowing you to satisfy him in exchange for your own pleasure.

As your soft pleas continue to fall from your lips, you feel the intense heat of your climax building up in your stomach, causing you to buck your hips desperately on Noah. In response, he lifts himself to meet you, and your bodies collide, sending a wave of pleasure over you, leaving your body trembling against him as he presses you firmly onto his lap. Grinding himself right against your ass, he emits a guttural sound, holding you tightly against him as his own body trembles, and his cock twitches in his pants beneath you.

“Did you just...?”

“Yes,” he says with a voice devoid of shame, which makes you laugh. It’s not a mocking laugh, and Noah feels the wave of embarrassment that had threatened to overwhelm him dissipate.

“I can’t deny that you’re not the first, but I must admit, I’m flattered.” You whisper, tilting your head and brushing your nose against the column of his neck. You’re almost reluctant to move, savoring the warmth of his presence against you and the delicate scent of his cologne that tickles your senses.

Unbeknownst to you, Noah shares your sentiments. He’s completely intoxicated and makes no effort to move you from his lap or even release his possessive grip on your throat and chest. When one of them sinks away, it’s the one on your chest, slowly descending to rest on your stomach, his thumb moving in gentle circles against your skin.

If any post-nut clarity should prompt him to leave, it hasn’t manifested yet.

You’re the first one to shift, reluctantly pulling yourself away from his chest and bending forward to adjust the strap of your heel. As you do, the lace from the lingerie you’re wearing rises up, which hangs further down your back than your front. Noah’s eyes briefly flicker down to the newly exposed skin, and a breath catches in his throat at the sight of a familiar tattoo.

You hear him say your name, your real name—not the stage name you use in this club—and it makes your head turn and your brow perk up.

Standing, you look down at him, taking him in properly as you begin to scan his familiar facial features. Granted, he was much younger when you knew him—a lot younger, with much longer hair—but a closer look reveals that his features still look the same—that same familiar Virginia boy you once knew.

“Noah?” You utter his name as if it’s your first realization, as if you hadn’t mentioned it just moments ago while grinding against him.

As he stands, you notice his height—he appears even taller and more imposing now, having grown out of his skinny boyhood.

Reaching out a hand towards your face, he hesitantly grasps the corner of the mask that obscures half of your face and lifts it, revealing the rest of it to him and recognition flashes across his eyes. “It’s you…” his voice softens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, threatening to break out into a smile as he feels the familiar thumping in his chest.

“Yes, it’s me,” you softly laugh, feeling the gentle touch of his knuckles against your cheek.

To Noah, everything becomes clear; the irresistible attraction, the magnetic pull, the way his mind constantly revolved around thoughts centered around you—a once mysterious stranger, when no one else here had caught his attention in that manner, it was because there was something profound, something that had always been there; you were the one who got away.

“Perhaps we should consider taking this reunion somewhere else.” You suggest, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Oh, Absolutely.”