#or she’ll shoot u first before i can

[5t4r5and5uch01]

What i did for that one trend on twt. My fave Blue sillies. 💙💙💙

[wingedhallows]

— RUSTLING MAPLE LEAVES —

— ✩₊˚.⋆☾ PAIRING southern!vi x citygirl!reader / 2.5 k words — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ SYNOPSIS When you inherit your grandmother’s farm in the heart of Georgia, the last thing you expect is Violet Lane—your rugged, maddeningly charming neighbor with a slow drawl and a smirk that could bring anyone to their knees. What starts as a simple favor—a little help with the land—quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Because Vi isn’t just good with her hands; she knows exactly how to unravel you, one lingering touch at a time. And resisting her? Well, that might just be impossible. — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ WARNING smut (minors DNI) — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes, i'm super late with this but it's my first time attempting to write actual smut. I thought you might enjoy this as a thanks for 400 & 500 followers. thanks babes, love u

♡︎ navigation ♡︎

Moving into your grandma’s old flat in Georgia wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year. But when she decided she was done with the ranch—tired of the early mornings and aching bones—she signed it over to you and packed her bags for a nursing home.

And now, here you stand.

Hands on your hips, staring up at the massive oak tree out front. It’s old, gnarled, and overgrown—a mess of tangled branches just waiting to drop and split someone’s skull open.

"Surely needs trimmin’, ma’am."

The voice is smooth, warm, dipped in something slow and syrupy. You whirl around—and nearly forget how to breathe.

A woman stands there, tipping her hat with a lazy smirk. Pink hair peeks out from beneath the brim, catching the golden light just right. One hand rests on the belt of her worn jeans, and the way she carries herself—easy, confident, like she’s got all the time in the world—makes your stomach flip.

Jesus.

Since when did you have a thing for Southern women?

"Violet Lane. Pleasure. Call me Vi."

She pauses, giving the tree a once-over, and for a moment, you swear you catch a sharp cut along the edge of her jaw—like she was carved from something wild and unyielding.

"Shimmer Farm’s mine." She nods down the road, and just like that, it clicks.

Your new neighbor. And, quite possibly, your newest problem.

You finally manage to clear your throat, lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s too damn bright, or maybe it’s just her.

"Bonnie’s my granny—left all this to me." You gesture vaguely at the ranch around you, hoping the motion hides the slight tremor in your fingers.

Violet—or Vi, as you’re already calling her in your head—gives a short nod before leaning against the white fence. The wood creaks beneath her weight, but all you can focus on is the way her flannel stretches over her arms—sleeves rolled up just enough to show off tanned, sinewy forearms and biceps that look like they could throw you clean over her shoulder.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip.

"She mentioned it—nice lady." Her voice is slow, deliberate, dipped in molasses, and you find yourself watching her like she’s something out of a dream.

Of course, she’d know your granny. They were neighbors.

"Tell you what, city girl—I’ll trim it for ya'."

She pushes off the fence with a lazy sort of grace, nodding toward the tree.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What? No, no—you don’t have to.”

You shake your head quickly, hoping she’ll back off, because if she gets any closer, you might just lose the battle against your absolutely feral urges.

But Vi just smirks, the kind of smirk that’s all trouble, all slow-drawled confidence that makes your stomach flip.

"Nonsense, sugar. ‘S what we do ‘round here."

And then—she winks.

You stand there, completely useless, as she turns and strides back down the driveway, hands tucked in the pockets of her beat-up jeans.

All you can do is stare after her, mouth slightly open, and hope to God nobody catches you drooling like a love-struck teenager.

Vi returns not long after, carrying a ladder, a hedge trimmer, and—oh, hell—without the flannel.

The wife beater she’s wearing should be illegal. It clings to her like a second skin, outlining lean muscle and sun-kissed shoulders, and as if that wasn’t enough to completely fry your brain, your gaze catches on the ink stretching across her upper back. Bold, intricate—something that probably runs the length of her spine.

You stand there on the porch, awkward as hell, gripping the railing like it might keep you from falling over. God, help me.

Vi doesn’t say a word as she props the ladder against the thick trunk of the tree, adjusts her hat, and climbs up like she’s done this a thousand times before.

And maybe it’s your imagination—or maybe she flexes, just a little, when she lifts the trimmer.

She knows you’re watching. And she sure as hell doesn’t mind.

The hedge trimmer hums to life, and you realize you should probably say something—anything—to make this feel a little less like you’re shamelessly ogling her.

"So… what kind of farm is ‘Shimmer’?" Your voice is quieter than you intended, but steady.

Vi doesn’t look away from her work, but she answers anyway, cool and easy.

"Horse farm. Got some sheep, too. Ma’  Pop, and my sister run it with me."

You nod, soaking that in. So, she works on a horse farm, probably rides, probably knows how to rope cattle, probably looks stupidly good doing it.

One question lingers in the back of your mind, burning at the tip of your tongue before you can stop it.

"Just you three? No boyfriend?"

You swear you hear her chuckle—low, rough, the kind of sound that zips straight through your bloodstream and leaves a warm ache in its wake.

Then she turns her head, baby blues locking onto yours, lazy smirk playing at her lips.

"Nah. I don’t swing that way."

Her voice is amused, like she already knows the effect it’s having on you.

And just like that, your brain short circuits.

She’s into women.

Oh.

A few hours later, the tree is neatly trimmed, the stray branches hauled off to God knows where—somewhere in the back of Vi’s truck, probably, but you’d been a little too distracted watching her maneuver the damn thing like she was born with a steering wheel in her hand.

She’d backed into your driveway with one arm slung over the passenger seat, her other hand steady on the wheel, and you swear your heart flipped clean over in your chest.

Now, you lean over the railing of the porch, holding out a cold bottle of beer. A peace offering. Or maybe just an excuse to keep her around a little longer.

Vi takes it with a soft huff, swiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead before twisting off the cap. "Thanks, sugar."

Her voice is a little rough, a little breathless, and it sends a spark straight through your bloodstream.

You watch as she tilts the bottle back, throat bobbing as she takes a sip—your eyes helplessly tracking the way a single droplet of sweat slides from her temple down the curve of her jaw.

And suddenly, you forget how to breathe.

"Are you hungry?" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, blurting out in a rush of reckless impulse.

Vi lowers the bottle, her smirk slow and knowing as she tips her head. "Don’t wanna trouble ya', city girl."

Her voice is low, husky, damn near sinful, and you—God help you—have to press your thighs together, because how the hell is this woman the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?

"It’s the least I can do, please." You nod toward the house, pushing the door open in silent invitation.

Vi takes her time stepping forward, letting her gaze drag over you in a way that feels deliberate.

And she’s doing her best not to stare at your ass too long—because, fuck.

Inside the house, you make your way to the kitchen, racking your brain for something—anything—you can throw together. Not like you’ve got much to work with. You’ve only been here a week, and your fridge is a sad excuse for a meal.

Behind you, Vi leans against the counter, the beer bottle dangling lazily from her fingers. She’s watching you—no, devouring you with her gaze—slow and deliberate, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You pretend not to notice. Or maybe you just don’t know how to function under the weight of her attention.

She shifts, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and you let out an awkward chuckle, tugging open the fridge with a grimace.

"I, uh—I don’t really have much. I just moved in, and… grocery shopping…” Your words fumble over each other, and the sheer intensity of her gaze makes you regret speaking at all.

Vi waves you off with a slow flick of her wrist, stepping closer.

And that’s when you catch it—the faintest hint of her cologne beneath the scent of sweat and sun-warmed skin, the lingering trace of sawdust from working on that damned maple tree.

You swear your knees go weak.

"S’alright, hun," she murmurs, voice richer, huskier than before.

Your back presses against the counter, your pulse skittering as she closes the space between you.

The air shifts—thicker now, charged with something electric, something dangerous.

And suddenly, food is the last thing on your mind.

Vi moves in, slow and deliberate, until her arms cage you in against the counter, the scent of her—leather, sweat, a hint of cedar and smoke—wrapping around you like a trap you don’t want to escape.

Her gaze roves over you, heavy and smoldering, like she’s sizing up a meal she’s about to devour.

“Ain’t that hungry—least not for food.”

Her voice dips lower, like a secret meant just for you, like something sinful curling between your legs. Your breath shudders, your fingers gripping the countertop behind you as if that’ll keep you grounded.

She leans in, breath hot against the shell of your ear, and your knees damn near buckle.

"Wanna repay me another way?"

It’s not even a question—it’s a promise wrapped in velvet.

Your lips part, but words fail you. All you manage is a nod, shaky, desperate.

Vi tilts her head, a slow, knowing smirk playing at her lips. Her hands find your waist, calloused fingers curling into the soft skin beneath your sundress, sending a rush of fire through your veins.

And then—before you can even think to touch her—she grips beneath your thighs and hoists you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

Your legs part, a breathless gasp slipping from your lips as she presses in close—solid, hot, the heat of her searing through thin fabric.

You lean back against the cabinet, exhaling a shaky sigh, your whole body thrumming with want, with anticipation.

And Vi—she just watches you, like she’s got all the time in the world.

Vi’s lips find your neck, warm and insistent, each kiss slow and deliberate, a teasing drag of softness against your skin. The heat of her breath lingers, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You tip your head back instinctively, granting her better access, and she hums in approval, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat.

Her hands roam—rough fingertips skimming the curve of your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sundress with a slow, knowing touch. Your breath hitches, fingers clutching at her shoulders, a feeble attempt to ground yourself against the way she unravels you.

Then—her palms slide lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, pushing your dress up inch by torturous inch.

Her fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your clothed cunt, and a shaky gasp tumbles from your lips, your thighs twitching at the featherlight contact.

Vi chuckles, low and deep, the sound rolling through you like a slow Southern drawl, thick and sinful.

“Oh, sugar,” she murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re drippin’ for me, ain’t ya?”

She grins against your skin, her voice sultry and smug, and all you can do is nod, breathless, aching, already at her mercy.

Vi presses one last, lingering kiss behind your ear before she sinks to her knees, slow and deliberate. The sight alone—her looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, that damn smirk playing on her lips—has your grip tightening on the edge of the counter.

Her hands skate over your thighs, warm and teasing, pushing your dress higher, higher, until the cool air ghosts over your skin.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, a mischievous glint flickering in those baby blues as she drags them down.

A soft gasp slips past your lips when her knuckles brush against your heated skin, and you barely catch the way she tucks your soiled panties into the back pocket of her jeans like a prize.

She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement, lips quirking as her thumb presses against your aching bundle of nerves—just enough pressure to make you tremble.

“Mmm, she’s screamin’ for me, sugar,” Vi drawls, her voice all honey and gravel, thick enough to drown in.

Your mouth parts, a protest, a plea—but before you can even think to speak, she leans in and drags her tongue in a slow, sinful stripe up your slit.

A breathless hiss escapes you, thighs twitching, and when she pulls back, her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, savoring.

“Delicious,” Vi hums, that cocky smirk only deepening.

A breathless moan tumbles from your lips as Vi leans in again, her tongue plunging between your folds—hungry, unapologetic, like she’s been starving for you all her life. The sensation is blinding, white-hot, and when your fingers thread into her hair, tugging at the soft strands, she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

Her grip tightens around your thighs, keeping you right where she wants you—helpless, unraveling beneath her touch. Each flick of her tongue, every sinful suck against your aching clit, has you teetering on the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“Vi—” Your voice is shaky, breath hitching as the coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter. “I-I’m gonna—”

She pulls back just enough, her lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she watches you fall apart. That smirk is there again, the one that makes your stomach dip.

“I know, sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice thick and dripping with something wicked. Then, as if to seal your fate, she licks one slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy - from entrance to clit, savoring the taste, before whispering—

“Cum for me.”

And you do—helpless against the force of your own undoing. The coil inside you snaps with breathtaking intensity, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong it leaves you gasping.

Vi doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—her strong hands keep you steady, gripping your hips with enough force to hold you together as you shatter.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of your pleasure—high, breathy moans mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of Vi’s tongue working you through it. You barely register the way she groans against you, drinking in every last bit of your release like it’s something sacred.

And when the aftershocks leave you trembling, thighs still twitching in her grasp, Vi finally pulls back—chin glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smirks up at you, voice thick as molasses when she drawls—

“Sweetest damn thing I ever tasted.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Soft Landings

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader x Azzi Fudd

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: After giving birth to baby Skylar, you returns home with Paige and Azzi for their first day as a family of three.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

There’s something about hospital mornings. They’re too bright and too slow. And everything smells like disinfectant and banana pudding that’s been sitting out too long.

I was already propped up in the bed, Skylar sleeping in her bassinet, when the nurse came in with our discharge paperwork. Paige was up and stretching like she hadn’t just spent the last two nights sleeping in a half-chair, half-human-pretzel formation. Azzi was brushing her teeth with a travel-sized brush and one sock on. She’d been crying quietly again this morning—happy tears, she said.

I felt like I’d been run over by several buses. But Skylar was here. Healthy. Perfect. And we were finally going home.

“Alright,” the nurse smiled. “Ready to go meet the world, Skylar?”

Azzi gasped and immediately scooped her up. “Nope! The world can wait. We’re on private access only for at least 24 hours.”

I laughed softly. My body still ached in strange places. My boobs felt like overinflated water balloons. I was sweating even though the room was cold. But my heart?

It had never been fuller.

Packing up was chaotic in the sweetest way. Paige had a whole system.

“Okay, baby bag, double-checked. Swaddle blanket. Car seat installed last week. You did watch the video I sent, right, Az?”

“I helped install it, Paige.”

“Yeah, but did you watch the video?”

“I was the video!”

I grinned from the bed, watching them buzz around like two over-caffeinated bees. Azzi was checking Skylar’s cap, adjusting it like she was preparing her for a photo shoot. Paige was busy making sure my water bottle, nipple pads, snacks, and every single form the hospital had given us were packed away in the overstuffed duffle.

“Alright,” Paige said, finally exhaling. “You ready, mama?”

The nurse returned with a wheelchair.

“I can walk,” I said immediately.

“Nope,” Azzi grinned, already helping me swing my legs to the edge of the bed. “Hospital policy.”

“But I feel fine—”

“Wheelchair.” Paige pointed. “Sit down, superwoman.”

I scowled, but I sat. The moment I did, I exhaled with relief. My body was not ready to be walking around like I didn’t just push a baby out 72 hours ago.

Paige picked up Skylar, who was strapped into her newborn car seat like a little burrito. Her head lolled slightly and her pouty lips parted in her sleep.

And then Paige did it.

The dad walk.

She held that car seat like it was the most precious, breakable object on Earth—elbows locked, eyes wide, moving like someone carrying nitroglycerin through a war zone. Azzi and I both burst into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” Paige said, turning slowly. “If I tilt her even slightly wrong, she’ll wake up. This is serious. I trained for this.”

Azzi leaned down and kissed my cheek before grabbing the wheelchair handles. “Alright, mama. Let’s get you and Miss Skylar home.”

The ride home was quiet, with only a few occasional whimpers from Skylar in the back seat. Paige drove like she was hauling royal cargo, glaring at every pothole and going 5 under the speed limit.

Azzi held my hand the entire way home.

I don’t know why I teared up when we pulled up to the apartment. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was the fact that the “Welcome Baby Skylar” banner Kayla taped to the front door was crooked and adorable and spelled ‘Skylaur’ before she crossed out the ‘u’ in Sharpie.

“I love you guys,” I sniffled.

Paige turned off the car and looked back. “We love you more.”

Once we got inside, I barely made it to the couch before Skylar started to fuss. Azzi unbuckled her and brought her over, already cooing.

“Okay, baby girl, let’s try skin-to-skin, huh?” Azzi said, slipping out of her hoodie and cradling Skylar to her chest. Within seconds, Skylar calmed, nestling right under her collarbone like she belonged there.

“She likes your heartbeat,” I whispered, watching from the couch.

“She likes her mommy,” Paige said, settling beside me and handing me a blanket. “And her mama. She knows she’s safe.”

“I thought we were gonna let people come by today,” I said, watching Skylar yawn.

Paige reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face. “We talked about it while you were sleeping. And we said no. You’re not entertaining anybody. You’re healing.”

Azzi nodded, still swaying with Skylar in her arms. “They all saw her enough at the hospital. They’ll see her soon enough. Right now, it’s just us.”

They treated me like a queen the rest of the day.

I tried to clean up after lunch? Paige took the sponge out of my hand.

I tried to fold some of Skylar’s blankets? Azzi gave me a look and pointed toward the couch like I was on a time-out.

I tried to vacuum? Paige literally unplugged the vacuum and said, “Babe. Sit. Down.”

Instead, they brought me food. My favorite food.

All the stuff I couldn’t have while pregnant—sushi, deli meat, extra espresso in my iced coffee. And they didn’t stop there. They brought out a tray full of sweet treats: brownies, sour candy, strawberry cheesecake bites.

“You’re gonna give me a sugar crash,” I groaned, halfway through my brownie.

“That’s the goal,” Azzi grinned. “Then you’ll have to nap.”

Skylar was fussy that afternoon.

Nothing crazy—just those newborn squeaks and whines that made you want to both cry and laugh at the same time. She spit up all over Paige during one diaper change, which Azzi caught in a photo and is absolutely never going to delete.

“She’s so cute,” I whispered that night, just watching her sleep in her bassinet beside our bed.

Paige was rubbing my back with one hand while scrolling through her phone with the other. “You’ve said that like thirty times today.”

“She is though.”

Azzi poked her head in from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “She’s gonna get a complex.”

“She’s already got one,” I muttered. “Every time we stop looking at her, she squeaks for attention.”

“Just like her mama,” Paige teased, kissing my shoulder.

“Hey,” I said. “Not wrong. But hey.”

What they didn’t prepare me for?

The breast milk thing.

I woke up at 2am sweating through my shirt and practically leaking.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, staring down at myself. “What the hell.”

Paige stirred next to me. “You okay?”

“I look like I went swimming in my own milk,” I muttered, climbing out of bed slowly. “My boobs feel like they’re gonna explode.”

Azzi helped me set up the pump, both of them whispering sleepy encouragements as I filled the freezer bags with what felt like way too much milk for someone who’d only been home for a day.

“I’m overproducing,” I said quietly, trying not to panic. “It’s too much.”

“You’re amazing,” Paige whispered. “Skylar’s lucky. We’ll make space in the freezer. Don’t worry.”

Azzi kissed my forehead as she labeled the bags. “You’re doing perfect, mama. We’ve got this.”

At 3:30am, I was still awake. Watching Skylar sleep. Her tiny hand rested near her face, lips parted, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. She made a soft little sound and my heart flipped all over again.

“I see you,” Paige said softly from behind me.

“I’m just watching her.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“She’s so quiet when she sleeps. Like a little angel.”

“You’re also an angel,” she murmured, gently pulling me away. “A tired one. Back in bed, baby.”

Azzi was already fluffing pillows.

“Okay, okay,” I sighed as I climbed in. “But if she cries—”

“She won’t,” Paige whispered, kissing my forehead. “And if she does, we got her.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That night, wrapped up between them, I felt everything hit at once—the exhaustion, the soreness, the overwhelming love. Not just for Skylar. But for Paige and Azzi. For the home we’d made. For this messy, sacred, beautiful little beginning.

Skylar stirred softly in her bassinet.

Azzi’s hand found mine in the dark.

Paige pressed her cheek against my temple.

And I whispered, “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 9

Length: 8k+ words

Genre: Fluff (does this count as fluff anymore? lol :>)

NJZ Minji x Male Reader (OC)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

“W-what… What the hell are you two doing?!”

Sunghoon stands there, a fire in his eyes, searing right through me and Minji. My skin grows cold. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Hell, I can barely think—just moments ago, I was basking in the warmth of Minji’s lips, and now I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of dread. 

Minji breaks the silence first.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts her. “Don’t even think about trying to talk your way out of this one, I saw what you two were doing. Minji, what the hell are you thinking?!” He glares at me with the same look of disdain I’ve been receiving all night. I’m sick of it. But I can’t do anything about it. Not with Minji here. Not after what I promised her.

“I-I was… I just…” Minji squeezes her eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look, it doesn’t matter what we were doing, it’s none of your business.”

“Actually, it is my business. Your parents told me to look out for you tonight and make sure that he doesn’t cause any trouble,” he retorts, pacing back and forth. Even after he calls me out, he doesn’t dare spare me a single glance—like I’m something filthy, not worth being in his vision.

“He didn’t!” Minji argues, her breath growing heavier. “I’m the one that kissed him, alright?! It was me! It’s all my fault! So don’t point your dirty fingers at him!”

Sunghoon scoffs, like we’re some unfathomable impossibility. “How naive can you be?! Do you really think someone like him is right for you?! You’re making a mistake, Minji.”

“The only mistake I made was thinking you could grow into a decent person!” 

The last of her words echoes into the night air. Sunghoon’s expression drops, just a smidge, but I can see it. She cut deep. Deeper than I thought she was capable of. Impressive. And a little terrifying.

Shards of Sunghoon’s broken glass crunch under his feet as he takes a tentative step back. The fire in his eyes is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite understand. They’re emptier, maybe even sorrowful.

“I’m sure your parents will love to hear about this,” he mutters before walking back inside.

Minji and I freeze like statues, lost in thought. My gaze stays fixed to the ground, unable to meet her eye. What the hell can I say anyways? I can barely process my own feelings as it is, and now, I’m left dealing with a whirlwind in my head. How am I supposed to face her? I don’t know what will happen now. Everything happened so quickly. What the fuck do I do?

“U-um…” Minji breathes, all the heat gone from her voice. “You should probably go.”

My eyes shoot up towards her. “What about you?”

“I-I’ll be fine. I think.” She takes off my sweater from around her shoulders and hands it back to me. “H-here. You’re probably cold.”

I am cold. Freezing. But she’s the only one that can warm me up. Not some sweater. Her. “Minji…”

She pushes the sweater into my hands, her touch lingering against my skin for a bittersweet moment. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” she says, more to herself than me.

Before I can utter another word, she walks back inside, sparing me one more glance before she disappears behind the doors. There’s an uncertainty within them. She sounded so confident before, but I can see it in her eyes that it’s all just a front. God, I hope she’ll be okay.

I sneak out of the building, carefully avoiding everyone from the banquet, and leaving this place of opulence behind. I never should have come. I never should have kissed her. Minji took the fall for me and I’ll regret it every day. What was I even thinking? No matter what, something always goes wrong. I should’ve listened to myself.

I plop down onto the curb and send a text to my dad to come pick me up. The wind howls around me, laughing at my predicament, cruel and mocking. The moon watches from above, a silent witness to everything that just happened tonight. I wish it would tell me what to do. Whatever higher being that exists up there, I wish it would just give me a straight fucking answer—in fact, I wish it would just spare me some mercy and end it already. Quit giving me hope just to throw it down the drain. Fuck.

It’s so goddamn cold.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

The city passes by in soft blurs through the car window, streetlights smearing golden hues across the glass. Stars dot the night sky with their shimmering light, and a full moon trails by our car like a guardian of safe nightly travels. As beautiful as it is, my gaze is fixed on the window, not to enjoy the view, but simply to survive. One wrong look at my parents could be the final crack that breaks the dam.

Tense silence fills the car. Only the hum of the engine and the occasional bump in the road remind me that this is all real. My parents’ silhouettes loom in front of me, and I don’t dare look or think or even breathe in their general direction. I would be lying if I said I wish they didn’t just yell at me and get it over with. The suspense of waiting is always worse than the actual punishment.

The familiar layout of our neighborhood enters my vision and it doesn’t take long until we’re rolling into our driveway. The car comes to a complete stop, the engine deafens, but none of us move. I clench my teeth to slow my breathing, afraid that one small peep will set them off, but I fear the uneven pounding of my heart can be heard from the front seat.

Mother leaves the car first. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but a single, frigid word from my father stops me in my tracks.

“Stop.”

I gulp, sitting upright in my seat. Despite my mother’s absence, the space inside the car feels impossibly smaller.

“Y-yes, father?” I say.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We trusted you to do the right thing. I let you invite that boy because I thought he was actually taking steps to better himself, but instead, you…” He trails off into a frustrated exhale. My mother’s anger, for all its fire, is at the very least predictable—bearable. But my father is something else entirely. Colder. Sharper. The quiet fury of a man who knows how to get people to do what he wants without ever raising his voice.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Minji?” he asks, tone low and cold.

I rack my mind for an answer, debating on defending Yuno or giving him a response that will satisfy him. If they just give Yuno a chance to show them who really is, that he’s not at all what he appears to be on the surface, then they’ll know that he isn’t as bad as they think he is. But they won’t listen. They never do. Not when it matters.

“I… I apologize, father. What I did was a… mistake,” I utter. Another lie leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

“A mistake,” he repeats, sending a chill down my spine. “What have I told you before about mistakes?”

“Th-that we…” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe properly. “That we learn from them.”

“I will make sure you learn from this then. Give me your phone.” He glares at me through the rear view mirror while he reaches his hand back towards me. A sense of panic rallies itself within my chest.

“W-wait, I need my phone,” I beg, my voice faltering. “I-I need it to coordinate with the other student council members for prom prep, a-and I—”

“You should’ve thought of that before completely taking advantage of my trust,” he shoots back. “Minji. Give it. Now.”

With a shaky hand, I retrieve my phone from my purse. My fingers curl around it like it’s the last piece of control I have left. Truthfully, prom preparations are the last thing on my mind at the moment. My entire world is contained in this little box. My friends. My life. Yuno. I need to make sure that he’s okay. After everything that just happened, I just need to talk to him. To talk about everything. To talk about us.

“Minji,” my father all but barks at me. “Phone. Now.” 

Maybe one day, I’ll stop listening. Maybe one day, I’ll speak up. But the words never come. I relinquish my phone, my lifeline to the outside world, into his palm. I can only watch helplessly as it disappears into his coat pocket.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he continues. “You are not to see that boy ever again. If you have a project with him, switch partners. If he walks the same direction as you, you go the other way. Don’t even think about going behind our backs this time because we will know. Do you understand?”

A shaky breath releases itself from my lungs as I fight back a tear. I want to scream, I want to fight back, tell him that he’s being unreasonable and controlling. But I can’t. I can barely breathe as it is.

“Y-yes, father. I understand,” I answer.

“Good,” he speaks. “Now go to your room. It’s late.”

I don’t say another word as I get out of the car and head inside. There’s no point. He won’t listen. He won’t change. Neither of them will. The house feels cold and soulless as I shut the front door behind me. The living room is furnished, the fridge full of food, the walls decorated in old family photos, but there’s no love in these four walls and there hasn’t been for a long time. This place is nothing more than a glorified prison.

Even my room doesn’t feel like mine anymore—just another cage for me to sit in. I collapse onto my bed, not bothering to change or get ready to sleep. I just stare at the ceiling fan, watching the blades go around in a circle.

All that energy, just to stay in the same place and serve one purpose. Forever.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I’m fucking exhausted. My mind wouldn’t let me sleep—just constantly looping that same scene over and over. I could have let Sunghoon have it. I could have explained to Minji’s parents that she did nothing wrong. I could have just stayed. Let them hate me. Blame me. I wouldn’t have cared.

But instead, I just… left. And now I don’t know what happened to Minji or why she isn’t texting me back.

My dad clears his throat. “Um, aren’t you gonna eat? You’ve barely taken a bite out of your pancakes.”

I glance up at the table, my breakfast practically untouched. “I’m… not hungry,” I mutter. I’m starving.

“Ah, okay…” he nods. “Is this… Is this about last night?”

I don’t answer. What’s the point? He can’t fix it. I can’t fix it. Nothing will change the fact that I didn’t do anything. Minji went through all that trouble to defend me and I didn’t do anything.

My dad sighs. “Look, um… I can tell something happened, but I don’t want to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here for you whenever you’re ready, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” I breathe. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I snatch it out like a reflex—just another message from Yujin. I don’t bother reading it this time. I just shove it into my bag, letting it sink to the bottom where I can forget about the damn thing. “I should get going.”

“Then, why don’t I, uh, put your pancakes in some tupperware and you can have them later if you’re hungry?” my dad suggests with a small grin. Truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll have the appetite later. Or at all. But he’s trying, despite everything.

“Yeah. Go ahead,” I answer before heading to the front door. He nods from his seat, but I don’t look back.

The sun’s out. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds overhead. People jogging, laughing, talking to neighbors. It’s a perfect day.

And I hate it.

Every step is heavier than the last, like the weight of my emotions are dragging me down into the dirt. I try to keep my head down, shove my hands in my pockets, pretend that everything is okay, but I can’t quite shake the constant throbbing in my temples. The pit of dread in my stomach keeps growing bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow me whole if I let it. And maybe I’ll just let it. But not before talking to Minji.

I trudge through Evergreen’s hallways straight to my locker. Winter and Yujin are waiting there, worry painted on their faces.

“Yuno!” Yujin exclaims as he sees me. “Are you alright? We waited by the convenience store, but you never showed up.”

“A-and you didn’t answer any of our t-texts or calls,” Winter adds.

“I’m fine,” I sigh, pushing past them to my locker. For a second, I want to tell them everything. The banquet. The argument. The kiss. God, the kiss. But the words don’t come. They never do.

“Are you sure?” Yujin asks. “You look… not great.”

“It’s nothing. Just…” I can barely finish my thought as a crowd forms at the end of the hallway. The sound of chatter grows louder, seemingly centering around one person. I can just barely make out the top of their head.

“W-what’s happening?” Winter asks, stepping behind me.

“No clue.” I could care less if it’s some celebrity or the president or whoever the fuck. As far as I’m concerned, this day has already gone to shit. The last thing I need are any surprises. I shut my locker and turn to head to class, but someone running towards the crowd bumps against my shoulder. “Watch it, you fucking—”

The crowd parts just enough. And there he is. Sunghoon. Grinning. Laughing. Like none of it ever happened. He notices me watching. He fucking smirks.

My blood starts to boil. I don’t care why he’s here or why he has on the Evergreen uniform, all I know is that I need to hurt him. I stomp towards him, my breath growing heavier and my fists clenched, ready to give that son of a bitch what I should’ve given him last night. I barely register the sound of Yujin and Winter calling out to me. He needs to pay for what he did. I need to hurt him. I need to—

“Wait.”

A hand grabs at my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“What the fuck do you—” I look back and see Danielle’s serious expression glaring back at me.

“Come with me. Now.” Before I can answer, she pulls me down the hallway and away from Sunghoon. Yujin and Winter look back at me, confused, right before I turn the corner.

I groan in anger. “What are you doing?! I was right about to—”

“Shut up,” she commands. “Minji told me everything. If I let you do what you were about to do, you would have regretted it.”

“M-Minji?” All the anger leaves my system at the mention of her name. I stop resisting as she pulls me along, the echoing of voices growing fainter behind us. “Is she… Is she okay?” 

We stop in front of a supply closet. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” she says, opening the door to the closet. In between the dusty shelves lined with cleaning supplies is Minji. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“You only have a couple minutes before class starts. Make it quick,” Danielle explains before pushing me in and shutting the door, leaving the two of us in this cramped space.

We can barely meet each other’s eyes. My skin suddenly feels very warm. Not uncomfortably so, just… warm. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I spent all night and all morning wanting to do nothing more than talk to Minji, and yet, I have no idea where to start. So, I start with what anyone would start with.

“H-hi.”

“Hi,” Minji utters, her voice small yet steady.

“Um…” I gulp, trying to calm my nerves. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I, uh, I texted you. You never, y’know…”

“Right.” She lets out a long sigh. “My parents took my phone away.”

“Oh.” At least she wasn’t ignoring me on purpose this time. “I’m sorry.”

She offers me a small yet reassuring smile. “It’s okay, I’ll just—”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” I blurt out. “Last night. I, uh… I should’ve stayed. I should’ve done something. Anything. You stood up for me, and I…”

Minji grabs my hand, cradling it gently in her palm. The words get caught in my throat and my heart stops for a moment, her touch like electricity against my skin. “Don’t apologize,” she says gently. “I’m the one that… did that to you. It was my fault. And I don’t want you getting yelled at because of something I did.”

I finally build up the courage to look her in the eyes. Even in the dim light of the supply closet, they somehow shine like the brightest stars in the night sky—Beautiful, yet unreachable. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. I also… did that to you.”

Minji chuckles softly, and I forget everything happening outside. Right now, it’s just the two of us, hand in hand, in our own little pocket of the universe. No Sunghoon, no parents, no expectations—just us.

The one-minute warning bell reminds me that life isn’t that simple. 

“Hurry up, you two,” Danielle reminds us from the other side of the door.

Minji lets out a heavy sigh, her gaze falling to the floor. “I’m sure you saw already, but Sunghoon enrolling here isn’t just some coincidence. My father told me that I can’t be around you anymore, and Sunghoon is here to make sure that I don’t disobey him,” she explains, her voice small.

My heart drops from my chest, free falling into the pit left in my stomach. “W-what? But—”

Danielle peeks her head through the door. “We have to head to class now or else we’ll be late,” she warns us, an apologetic look in her eyes.

“W-wait, I—”

“I’m sorry, Yuno,” Minji says, letting go of my hand. “I’ll think of something. Just… avoid me for now.”

I can’t get another word out before her and Danielle run off to class, leaving me alone in this musty supply closet. The space she occupied just seconds before seems so vast and empty now. Her warmth still lingers on my fingers. I don’t want it to fade.

If I knew this would be the first and last time I got to hold her hand, I would’ve done everything I could just to hold her for a second longer. Now all I have is the ache of her hand leaving mine.

______________________________________________________________

My spork picks at the mush sitting on my lunch tray, completely untouched. No matter how loud the grumbling in my stomach gets, I just can’t seem to bring myself to eat anything. Not after what just happened.

Minji’s words echo through my mind. How am I supposed to just avoid her? A couple of weeks ago, that would’ve been easy—we were nothing more than passing faces to each other. But now, she’s all I ever think about these days. I want to talk to her. I want to hear her voice. I want to be with her. But I can’t. And it’s all because of that rich piece of shit.

“U-um, Yuno?” Winter asks, her voice barely heard over the whirlwind in my head. “A-are you a-alright? You’ve b-been really quiet.”

“Quieter than usual,” Yujin adds. “It’s getting a little worrying, man.”

I sigh. “I’m just… having an off day. I’ll be fine.” 

Yujin frowns, but doesn’t push. “You’d tell us if something was wrong… right? We’re your friends,” he says. All I can give him is a small nod. I know I should tell them and quell their worries, but I just can’t. I’m weighed down enough as it is. I don’t need them going down with me.

A burst of laughter shoots out from the center of the lunch room. Sunghoon is at the middle of it all, chatting and laughing with Bryce’s group of all people. Of fucking course. Trash attracts trash. He notices me looking at him, but I don’t even bother trying to mask the anger in my eyes. Let him fucking glare back. In fact, I wish he would come up here and do something about it. My life is already fucked up as it is. I don’t mind putting the last nail in the coffin if it means I get to slam him into the pavement.

“Y-Yuno…”

“WHAT!?” I bark, my chest rapidly rising with heavy breath. Half of the lunch room goes silent as they look back at me, confused and scared from my sudden outburst. It takes too long for me to comprehend Winter’s eyes squeezed shut and her shaky hands shielding her face.

Shit. “S-sorry, I didn’t…” I sigh, taking a moment to calm down. “I’m sorry, guys, I just… I-I…” What the hell is wrong with me?

Winter lowers her hands slowly, blinking at me with wide, glassy eyes like she doesn’t even recognize me.  I pick up my tray and toss it into the trash as the whole lunchroom watches me leave. I just need to be alone right now. I glance back at Yujin and Winter one last time, but I can’t meet their eyes. All I see is Sunghoon’s shit eating grin as the doors shut behind me.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

I sigh, refreshing my email for the hundredth time, waiting for a response from my treasurer. Do people not check their emails nowadays? I could get a reply in seconds if I just had my phone.

I shut my laptop and rest my forehead on the table, feeling utterly exhausted despite barely making any progress on prom. The library is supposed to be a quiet place to get work done, but with all the noise rumbling around in my head, it’s impossible to even think straight. Every time I try to get on track, Yuno’s face pops up in my mind like an ad that I can’t get rid of. One I don’t even want to, honestly.

He looked so sad when we talked in the supply closet. So tired. We finally got a chance to talk last night, and now I have no idea when I’ll be able to see him again. And that kiss. Everytime I close my eyes, it’s like I can feel him on my lips again. That same electricity, that same warmth, that same tenderness.

“Yo Minj.”

“AH!” I jump up in my seat, my yelp echoing throughout the library and receiving a harsh shush from the librarian.

Hanni points and laughs at me as my face grows warm from her ridicule. “Girl, what’s got you all jumpy? Daydreaming about Yuno again?” she teases with that impish grin.

I sigh and faceplant into the table. “No… Maybe, I don’t know…” I grumble.

“Aww, look at you, all in love and stuff.” Hanni plops down into the chair next to me, laying her face down next to mine. “So how’d the banquet go? You never texted us back last night.”

I let out a long groan, muffled by the table. “My parents took my phone.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Ooh… Sounds serious.” She scoots her chair closer to me. “I’m listening.”

I sigh, mentally preparing myself to relive last night’s events over again. “Okay, so… God, where do I even start?”

“Whatever you feel like telling me,” she says, patting my back.

“Okay, uh… The banquet itself was fine, just a lot of talking to people. I could tell Yuno was overwhelmed, even if he tried not to show it. He ended up sneaking outside to get some fresh air, and then we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. I apologized to him for freaking out about the, uh—”

“The kiss you almost had in the nurse’s office?” Hanni interjects with an impish grin.

Is she trying to spill my secrets to the whole library?! “Hanni!”

“What, am I wrong?” she giggles.

“...N-no.” I swear, she’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days. “A-anyways, I finally got to apologize, and then we just continued talking, and then, uh… We, uh…” Oh God. I kissed him for real. That wasn’t an “almost” or a dream or some hallucination—that was real.

The way I go silent and red in the face must have set off an alarm  in Hanni’s head because all of a sudden, her grin spreads so wide, the Cheshire cat would look like a regular stray kitten.

“You…! Did you two…?! You did, didn’t you?!” Hanni rapidly fires, smacking my arm in excitement. “Minji, Oh my god!” 

I bury my face into my hands, the delayed realization hitting me like a speeding train. I kissed Yuno Lin. For the first time in my life, I, Minji Kim, kissed a boy. And it was amazing.

And now I can never see that boy again.

I let out a long, sad groan into my hands at the thought. I’ve been a straight-A student all my life, I’ve helped out whenever I could, I try my best to show everyone kindness and respect, can’t the universe throw me a bone and let me have this one thing go right? I love my parents, but why should their opinions matter when it’s my life at the end of the day? I just want to date a stupid boy.

“Hello,” I hear Danielle’s voice greet, followed by the sound of her taking the seat next to me. “What’s her problem?”

“Did you know about this?!” Hanni asks her.

“The banquet? Yeah, Minji filled me in earlier. Yuno was there, Minji got to apologize, and then that one guy she hates got her in trouble, and now she has no phone and can’t speak to Yuno. Did I miss anything?”

“So you knew about the kiss and didn’t tell me?! Dani!”

“Kiss? What kiss?”

I peek through my fingers, catching Danielle’s eyes, wide with concern, aimed straight at me. “I, um… I may have, uh…” I stutter.

Danielle gasps, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Minji!”

“Shhh!” the librarian shoots at us from her desk. “Ladies, keep it down!”

“S-sorry…” I mutter with an apologetic smile.

“Wait, who’s the guy that you hate?” Hanni asks.

“Sunghoon,” I grimace, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “He’s just an awful human being. Our parents are friends, so I was forced to be around him basically my entire childhood. He caught Yuno and I… y’know… and told my parents about it, so now I don’t have my phone, and he enrolled into Evergreen today to make sure that Yuno and I can’t be around each other.”

“Jeez, dude,” Hanni sighs, resting her head on my shoulder. “That really sucks.”

Danielle pats my knee, nodding in agreement. “We’ll do whatever we can to help, okay? This is a very… complicated situation, but you shouldn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

I breathe, feeling slightly lighter than before. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands up as I feel an off-putting presence enter the room. My gaze shoots towards the library doors, and the devil himself walks in, strutting around like he hasn’t just ruined my life. Sunghoon leans against the librarian’s desk, shooting her that cheesy smirk. It’s all just an act, a mask that he puts on to trick other people into thinking he’s a good person. But I know the truth. Underneath that mask is nothing but an ugly slimeball of arrogance and egotism.

He notices me glaring at him, grins, and shoots a wink in my direction before walking off. Disgusting. If karma exists, I hope it takes everything Sunghoon ever did to me and gives it back to him tenfold. If only fate were that kind.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

Yujin and Winter exchange concerned glances as I lean against my locker, just barely holding myself up. As if yesterday wasn’t bad enough, today I somehow feel so much worse. Still couldn’t get a wink of sleep, still couldn’t bring myself to take a bite of breakfast, and I’m honestly surprised I managed to make it to school without passing out in the middle of the street.

“Winter, this is getting really bad,” Yujin mutters to her. She whispers something back into his ear that I can’t quite make out. Fuck, I still haven’t apologized about my outburst at lunch yesterday. I just left without another word. It seems like that’s all I’m good for these days.

I open my mouth. Try to say anything. But all that comes out is a grunt, like even my throat has given up on me.

“Yuno, we’ve tried being patient, but this is getting too much,” Yujin says, raising his voice a bit. “What is going on?”

I look at them. I see the worry in their eyes, their lips pressed together into thin lines, waiting for me to say the magic words that’ll make all of this go away. I want to tell them. God, I really want to. But I can’t. What good would it do?

Maybe they’d want to help, but there’s nothing they can do to change the fact that I’m still the same piece of shit that Minji’s parents believe I am. If they somehow get rid of Sunghoon, then what’s next? They send another ten Sunghoon’s to spy on us in his place? They move Minji to a different school halfway across the world? Hell, they probably have enough money to pay a hitman to make my death look like an accident. And with how my life is going, maybe I wouldn’t mind that.

“I’m… fine,” I lie, my voice scratchy and low.

Yujin just sighs, his head hanging low. “No, you’re not…” I hear him mutter under his breath.

I just need a moment for myself to think. Some peace and quiet. That’ll help. Surely. I stumble past the two of them, dragging my feet underneath me, my vision just clear enough for me to not bump into anyone else in the hallway. I don’t know what I’m gonna do or how I’m gonna do it—I never have—but the fluorescent lights are too bright, and the colored tiles on the ground are too dull, and everything is just so loud, and I just need to be alone right now.

Through the vague silhouette of students, I meet a certain pair of honey brown eyes at the end of the hallway and time stops. It’s quiet now. It feels like forever since I last got to peer into Minji’s eyes. She’s so close—yet, we couldn’t be farther apart than now. There’s so much I want to say. I miss her. No amount of physical pain I’ve ever suffered compares to the aching in my heart when I think about her. I almost wish I never met Minji just so I never have to feel this way.

The illusion breaks as Sunghoon steps into my sight, towing around the worst kinds of people Evergreen has to offer. That son of a bitch. Worse yet, he approaches Minji, and they all crowd around her. I can’t make out what they’re saying. They’re all laughing around her, but she looks uncomfortable. Sunghoon just keeps on flapping his lips, spewing some bullshit probably.

And then he puts his arm around her—before I can take a second to think, my legs are already dragging me towards him. My heart beats loudly in my chest, pumping adrenaline into the rest of my body, preparing me for what I’m about to do. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care who he is or what Minji’s parents will do if I touch him. I’m sorry, Minji, but old habits die hard.

“...Minji and I are actually old childhood friends—AGH!” I interrupt whatever stupid story he was telling and grab his neck, slamming him into the lockers with a loud thud that echoes throughout the hallways. Everyone goes silent, watching this whole scene with bated breath. Fuck it. Let them watch. I want everyone to see the beating I’m about to give this son of a bitch.

My ears ring like sirens going off in my head. My chest rises with rapid breath. I squeeze my hand, tightening my hold on Sunghoon’s neck, desperately wanting to see the life drain from his eyes—but all he does is laugh. Like this is some fucking joke. Like taking away the one thing that made me happy was some harmless prank.

“I-I’m sure… Minji’s p-parents… would love to h-hear about this,” he manages to choke out. Tell them for all I care. Let’s see how you talk with a broken windpipe.

“Yuno!”

I hear Minji’s voice, and all of a sudden, I come back to my senses. The way she says my name, her voice cracking like she’s stepping carefully on thin ice, trying not to fall under. Regret fills my head like a thick smoke, making it hard to decipher what’s right and wrong.

“Put him down. Please,” she urges gently. Reluctantly, I loosen my grip on Sunghoon’s throat and drop him to the floor. My hand shakes like it has a mind of its own, yelling at me for not following through. It would have been so easy to end everything right then and there. But I didn’t. Because of Minji.

I glance back at her, at Yujin and Winter, at the crowd of students watching, bewildered and completely terrified. I don’t say anything—What could I even say in a situation like this?—and I just walk off to god knows where.

Everyone’s staring. I can feel Minji’s eyes on the back of my head, the words I didn’t say burning holes in my throat. I don’t turn. I don’t stop. I just need a single fucking moment. 

To think. To breathe. To not exist.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My laptop is open. The student council room is peaceful, quiet, the kind of calm I crave when I’m working—but all I can do is stare blankly at the screen. How can I possibly focus after witnessing all of that?

It was… scary. I’ve never seen Yuno look like that. Sure, I’m aware of his past and the things he’s done, but he didn’t seem like his normal self. I’m worried about him. My mind keeps replaying that same scene over and over again, Yuno’s hand wrapped around Sunghoon’s throat, trying to make sense of it all. I keep seeing that look in Yuno’s eyes. That wasn’t his normal self. It was something darker. Angrier. Fearful.

I don’t know. I just hope he’s okay.

“Hey there,” a voice says from the doorway.

I flinch. Speak of the devil. Sunghoon steps into the room, that same off-putting grin plastered on his face as he looks around the room. “Nice place you got here,” he comments, chuckling at his own joke.

I don’t look at him. “What do you want?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He sets a wrapped pastry in front of me. “You look tired. You should eat something, y’know, fuel for the brain.”

I slide the pastry back towards him. “No thanks.”

“C’mon, Minji. I insist.” He slides it back towards me, and it takes me every ounce of my self-control to not blow up in his face.

“Is this all you came to do?” I ask curtly, not sparing him a glance.

“Well, no. I actually came to talk to you. Heard you were in charge of prom preparations.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Just wanted to know how things were going.” Sunghoon sits back onto the table, relaxed and slow. How pleasant it must be, to live so selfishly. “Do you… have a date for prom?” he asks, looking up at the ceiling.

I slam onto the keyboard a bit too hard, grabbing his attention. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, then I suggest you leave. Only student council members are permitted to enter this room.”

“What’s got you so worked up?” he chuckles, as if I said something funny. Surely, he has to be doing this on purpose? There’s no way he’s this oblivious, right?

“Look, can you just leave already? I’m trying to get work done.”

He scoffs. “What is your problem? I’m trying to be the nice guy here and you’re acting like I kicked your dog.”

I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Are you kidding me? After everything you did, you think you’re still the nice guy in this situation?”

“Oh my god, is this about what happened with Yuno?” He lets out a laugh full of amusement. “He’s the one that attacked me, I’m the victim here!”

“Maybe you deserved it,” I mutter.

The smirk from his face drops just a bit. “You don’t mean that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve only been here two days and you’ve done nothing but make life harder for both of us.”

Sunghoon squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a long exhale. “I can’t believe you’re still hung up over him. Can’t you see that he’s wrong for you?”

“You don’t even know him—”

“I don’t need to know him!” he lashes out, jumping to his feet and pacing around the room. His mask slips, just for a moment. There he is. “He’s nothing but a knuckle-dragging gorilla that only knows how to solve problems with his fists!”

“Sunghoon, shut up—”

“You’ve only known this guy for what, a couple weeks?! I’ve been there for you my whole life! I’ve always looked out for you!”

“I don’t need you looking out for me! I never have!” I shoot back. My vision stings. My chest is about to explode. But I won’t cry. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Oh my god, do you know how insane you sound?! You’re making the worst decision of your life by choosing him!”

I slam my laptop and stand up to meet his level. “Get out,” I command, low and firm. “Now.”

He scoffs in my face. “Minji, let’s just—”

“OUT!”

The echo of my own voice rings in my ears. My throat burns from the scream. But I don’t regret it.

Sunghoon flinches at my outburst. “Fine,” he mutters, straightening out his uniform. I don’t stop glaring at him until he leaves the room, and even then, my gaze stays focused on the door for a few minutes after he leaves like I’m expecting him to pop his stupid little face back through the doorway.

After standing there for a while, I finally collapse back into my chair—exhausted, frustrated, and utterly lost. 

All this stress because I kissed a boy. 

One moment of happiness. And somehow, everything fell apart.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I should’ve kept my head down.

I should’ve walked away.

I should’ve known better.

But I didn’t. And now…

God, what the hell am I even doing anymore?

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here in this empty classroom. Could be hours. Maybe the bell rang. It doesn’t matter. I’m just… tired. Not the kind of tired that a couple hours of sleep can fix. I can feel it rooted in my bones, eating away at my organs like a cancer.

My phone keeps buzzing every now and then. I don’t bother to check them anymore. It’s just Yujin and Winter. I don’t even know where to begin with them. I feel sick, pushing them away like this. But I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but sit here and stare at the dusty shelf by the windows.

Maybe I would’ve been content never meeting Minji. If I hadn’t offered to walk her home, if I hadn’t spent the night at her house, if I hadn’t ridden that Ferris wheel with her, then maybe I would never have learned the pain of having someone so close to your heart, only to be ripped away in the blink of an eye. That night underneath the full moon where we shared our first and final kiss felt like so long ago.

She was right there. In my arms. The stars reflected in her eyes, her hair draping down her neck like silk, her lips gently pressed against mine, soft and delicate. I wonder if it was all real or just a mirage created by fate to trick me into thinking something good could happen.

For a moment, I try to picture life without Minji. Floating from class to class, head down and my hands in my pockets. Probably continue sticking my nose into places where I shouldn’t be, getting into more fights, gaining some new bruises. Maybe I would be expelled at this point. Or worse. But at least I wouldn’t have to feel like this. I would never have to know what I was missing.

My phone buzzes against the desk. Then another. And another. I groan and finally check it, expecting another text from Yujin or Winter.

But it’s not them.

An unknown number flashes on the screen, calling me. I answer it. I don’t know why. Maybe curiosity or a random gut feeling.

I say hello, I think. It comes out more like a grunt than a greeting. An unfamiliar female voice comes through the speaker. She asks me if I’m Yuno Lin. I say yes. Her words come in vague blurs, but her tone sounds urgent. Something about a hospital. Alcohol withdrawals. Passing out on the street.

My dad.

I hang up before she can finish and sprint out of the room. My feet slam against the ground with each step, trying to navigate through the halls. I get weird looks. I knock a few people over. But I don’t care.

I just need to get to the hospital as soon as I can. Please be okay. Please, please, please…

______________________________________________________________

The doors of the ER blast open and I stumble in, sweat dripping down my face and my legs on fire from running all the way here. Everything is immediately overwhelming—the fluorescent lights, the onslaught of chatter, the sharp scent of chemicals. I rush over to the front desk, gripping the counter to keep from falling over.

“I-I got a call,” I gasp. “M-my dad, Ian Lin. They said he was brought here.”

The nurse behind the counter glances up at me, already typing something into the computer. “Your name?”

“Yuno. Yuno Lin.”

She types some more, picks up the phone, and says something into it that I can’t make out over the roaring in my ears

“He’s in Room 12. A nurse will come shortly to escort you there.”

My eyes dart around to the various hallways leading to who knows where. Fuck. Where’s Room 12? Where am I supposed to go? The last time I was at the ER was when my mom…

“Yuno Lin?” A woman in navy scrubs calls out my name, beckoning me gently. “This way.”

I follow her down the white hallways, passing by rooms full of sick and injured people. White’s supposed to make you feel at ease, but all it does is conjure up old memories of the worst day of my life. The constant beeping of machines, nurses and doctors talking over each other, the fear in my mind making me unable to think straight. For fuck’s sake, I can’t go through this again.

We arrive at Room 12 and I see my dad laying there, unconscious and hooked up to various machines. His hands tremor against the sheets. Sweat covers his body. His skin’s gone pale like wax. He’s never looked this small before. 

But he’s breathing. It’s weak, but he’s breathing.

“Your father was brought in after having a seizure, likely triggered by alcohol withdrawals,” the nurse says gently. “He’s stable for now and getting the care he needs, but we’ll be monitoring him closely for the next 24 to 48 hours. He’s dehydrated and his vitals were erratic when he came in, but we’ve got him on fluids and medication to manage the symptoms.”

I don’t speak. I just watch my dad’s chest rise and fall slowly with breath. The nurse gives me a soft pat on the shoulder before exiting the room, leaving me alone with him. I don’t move. I can’t. Like there’s an invisible barrier between me and the hospital bed. Like I’m just watching him through a screen. I’m afraid if I get any closer, it’ll all be too real. 

Eventually, I turn around and leave, only to be met with the same sad white walls that line the inside of his room. My legs can only carry me a couple steps before I collapse onto a bench in the hallway. I’m so fucking exhausted. Not just from today or yesterday—from the past 18 years of my life. I don’t know why I bother waking up when this is all there is. This lonely, draining, shitty existence.

I let out a single, shaky breath. And then the tears start to fall. They drain from my eyes like a dam that finally breaks, leaking through my fingers even as I try to cover it up. Is this really it for me? Dragging myself through life, just to end up here again—same tragedy, same helplessness, same shitty story. Just with a different parent in the bed this time.

The gentle hand of a stranger rests on my shoulder as I cry. I don’t turn to see who it is. I couldn’t face anyone. Not like this. But as the tears dry up and there’s no more left to cry, I’m forced to confront the fact that the world is still turning. I’m still here.

“Th-thanks,” I mutter softly, sniffling. I turn my head to meet the kind stranger that sat by me, but with the tears clouding my vision, I swear they look like Minji for a moment. 

I can’t help but let out a low chuckle. “God, do I really miss her that much?” I ask, more to myself than them. “I’m sorry you had to—Minji?”

A small smile breaks through her trembling lips.

“Hey,” she whispers.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

The hospital room smells like bleach and wilted flowers. The TV’s stuck on some stock report that I don’t care to understand and the constant beeping feels like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

I sit quietly, smiling like I care—but I don’t know this man. He’s just some high-ranking executive at my father’s company. I don’t know why he’s here, or what illness he has, or what I’m supposed to feel. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. I’m just here to keep up appearances that the Kims are a put-together, stable, nuclear family.

“Thank you again for visiting me, sir!” the man says to my father. “And Minji, it’s so good to see you again! You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you.”

I give him a polite smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well.”

My father checks his watch. “We should get going. We do hope you feel better soon, Mr. Nam.” It’s almost impressive how a kind sentiment like that manages to lack so much warmth, even as he says it with a full smile. I wonder if that’s where I learned it from.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, the curtains close and the three of us are back to our regular selves—cold, distant, and silent. The hallways echo with the sound of expensive shoes, too expensive to be sensible for a hospital. Appearances are appearances. They tell me what to wear and how to act, like I’m their perfect little doll instead of their living, breathing, human daughter. It’s all about the illusion—give everyone a good look so they think you’re fine.

“How were classes today, dear?,” my mother asks as we step onto the elevator. It descends to the first floor with a monotonous hum.

“They were fine, mother,” I answer. Succinct, poised, and proper—exactly how they told me to speak.

“Just fine? I can set you up with a private tutor if those classes aren’t challenging enough for you,” she says, taking out her phone. “Mrs. Park recommended me all of Sunghoon’s tutors, their résumés are truly remarkable.”

I fight back a sigh. The last thing I need is to start an argument in this cramped space. “I will… think about it.”

Thankfully, she leaves it at that. The doors open to the first floor, and as we make our way towards the exit, I feel an odd tingling sensation on the back of my neck. I freeze in my tracks, an invisible force keeping me from moving.

“Minji?” my father says, looking back at me. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”

I shake my head. “My apologies, I just feel… odd.” I look around at the hospital, searching for something—but I’m not sure what. My eyes dart from person to person, looking for a hint of familiarity within them.

“Is something the matter, dear?” my mother asks, but I don’t answer. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel like if I exit those doors, I’ll regret it for the rest of myself. Through the haze of sterile white coats and tired faces, I spot him—a lone boy, hunched over on a bench, shoulders trembling, hands in his face.

My breath catches in my throat. In an instant, I know who it is. I make a dash for him, ignoring my parents calling out to me as a thousand questions float around in my head.

Why is Yuno here?

Is he okay?

Why is he crying?

I slow down as I near the bench, not wanting to startle him. My heart breaks in two seeing him like this—crying, alone, in the hospital of all places. I sit down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Each sob ripples through his body and it takes all my restraint not to cry with him. Whatever happened, he needs support. And I want to be that for him. So many words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I keep them to myself for now. We’ll have a chance to talk later. I’m sure of it.

I stay with him until the end. Eventually, Yuno calms down and lifts his head up. He looks… beat down. Like he hasn’t slept in days. His words back at the banquet echo in my head, reminding me of just how much he suffered in his life. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I want Yuno to be happy. I want to see him smile without fear. I want to see him laugh without constantly looking over his shoulder. I want to see what he looks like when he’s freely and truly happy.

I don’t care about what my parents think, or what Sunghoon thinks, or what anyone else thinks about him for that matter. He deserves to live a life where pain isn’t the only thing he knows.

“Th-thanks,” Yuno mutters softly as he turns to face me. He lets out a low chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. “God, do I really miss her that much?”

I grow curious for a moment. Who does he miss?

“I’m sorry you had to—Minji?”

I push the thought to the back of my mind, a small smile breaking through my trembling lips as I gaze at Yuno’s face for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Hey.”

[into-fiction]

Oh you NEED to continue the kid fic bc I’m obsessed! Not asking for a full fledged story (I mean hey, unless you want to) but just a small continuation at least please🙏 What do you hc their ages to be in it? What’s Morrible’s reaction to the bit at the end there? I need to know

ask and u shall receive, fair anon. their ages are roughly 5 & 8/9 I think?

(direct continuation of this post inspired by @c-rose2081's idea btw - read that first! idk why this got so long, my bad)

///

The woman seems taken aback by both the girls�� reactions, standing awkwardly above them. Elphie’s shaking hard, but she stands up with her arms spread and her knees locked as to prevent the woman from getting any closer. 

Galinda shouldn’t be such a crybaby, such a coward, but she can’t help feeling grateful for the older girl’s protection. The woman has stopped advancing, but she still looks angry.

She really should just stand up and accept it. Momsie hates when Galinda starts begging. She says it’s ‘unbecoming of a lady’ to wail like she does. It never makes it better. And running away? Why, that’s just asking for trouble.

With great effort, Galinda places a hand over her mouth to silence her cries, sniffling hard and swallowing down mucus and tears. She still feels sick to her stomach as she gathers her limbs. Just as she makes to stand, though- Elphie turns around, eyes wide as she shoves at Galinda. 

“Stay down!” she hisses. Her eyes flicks to the woman. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

The woman seems calmer now, more collected. Her previous fierce glare has shifted into something more curious than anything else. She raises a single eyebrow at Elphie’s statement. 

“I’m not planning on hurting anyone,” she says. “I…apologize for my outburst. I was merely concerned that something had happened.”

Galinda doesn’t believe her. She’d been yelling about blondes. Galinda’s the only blonde in the room; she had to have done something wrong.

Sometimes, when they’re in public, or she feels there’s a lesson to be learned, Momsie won’t punish her right away. She’ll make Galinda wait, knowing the inevitable is coming, letting it build in her belly until she’s so tied into knots she can barely even breathe. 

Perhaps this woman is the same. Or perhaps she’s waiting to see if Elphie does anything that will add to the punishment. Momsie does that as well at times. Counts indiscretions and waits until the end of the day to tell Galinda all the things she did wrong.  

The thought makes more tears leak down Galinda’s face. Gulping again, she stands up and resigns herself to her fate. She doesn’t want Elphie to be punished. Elphie is her friend. 

Galinda loves her. 

“Elphie,” Galinda whispers. At some point, she’d accidentally slid her thumb between her lips while blocking her mouth, and she’s quick to yank it out when she realizes. 

Only babies suck their thumbs, Galinda! 

Galinda hopes no one saw that. She reaches out to tug on the back of Elphie’s shirt. “I-it’s otay. I was b-bad.”

Elphie whips her head around, glaring. “No, you weren’t. You just had an accident; you’re not bad.” She turns her hard stare back to the woman, visibly trembling as she does. “She’s not.” 

“Of course, Elphaba,” the woman says smoothly, though she shoots Galinda a dirty look. Elphie flinches hard at the use of her name. 

“Do-do I know you? Or…do you know my father?”

There’s a pause. The woman tilts her head. “I do know your father,” she finally says. Slower than before. More calculating. Her gaze shifts to Galinda. “My name is Madame Morrible. I know who both of you are.”

Galinda whimpers. If this lady--Morrible--knows her momsie and popsicle, than she’ll probably tell them about Galinda’s accident, and then Galinda will be in even more trouble. She should just take her punishment now, no matter how scared she is.  

Galinda steps around Elphie on shaky legs. She glances up at Morrible briefly, too frightened to meet her eyes, then bows her head and clasps her hands.

“I-I’m sowwy, Miss Mowwible,” she whispers. “I made a mess and was bad. I’ll take m-my punishment now.”

Elphie tries to grab for her, but Galinda steps aside. She wipes an arm over her teary face. “Please don’ hurt Elphie. She’s my fwiend, and s-she’s been weally nice.”

Morrible bends down to be on Galinda’s face level, the little girl shrinking back in fear. Elphie comes up beside her in support. She has several inches on Galinda, and despite how clearly afraid she is, she’s also very clearly protective. 

“She’s just little,” Elphie argues. “You can’t punish her for being scared. No hits.”

Galinda gasps at Elphie’s boldness. You aren’t supposed to talk back to adults. She shudders as Morrible looms even closer, terrified her friend has just made things even worse. 

“Elphie, no,” Galinda whispers, stumbling on her heels when she leans back too far. The older girl steadies her, still glaring. You’ll make her mad, Galinda doesn’t say. 

Morrible’s eyes narrow, then she straightens to her full height, book dangling from her fingertips, and smiles. It’s not a very happy-looking smile. Nor a comforting one. 

“I’m not going to hit you, little ones,” she says. “It appears there has been some...confusion.”

Elphie grabs Galinda’s hand. “Are you going to send us home?” she asks. Galinda can’t tell by her tone if Elphie is hoping for a yes or a no. 

“Not yet,” Morrible answers. Her gaze flicks over their diminutive forms. “You see- there is magic at play here. Dangerous, powerful magic.”

Galinda feels Elphie wince, shrinking into herself. “Magic?” she questions, voice small. Galinda has always wanted magic- ever since her Nona told her about it. 

“Yes, dear. Magic. That’s why you are here. You may not remember, but it’s important you stay here and that you are on your best behavior as we sort everything out. Can you do that? Can you be good?”

Both girls nod tentatively. 

Galinda feels Elphie’s hand tighten. “Where is here?” she asks.

“Why, the Emerald City, of course.”

At that- Elphie finally looks up again, eyes bright. “The Emerald City?” she breathes. 

Morrible’s smile grows. “Yes. This is the palace of the wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”

“The Wizard,” Elphie gasps. She seems delighted by the news. Meanwhile- Galinda is horrified. She peed on the Wizard’s floor! 

Galinda rocks back and forth, stomach knotting and tears resurging. She feels wrung out and overwhelmed, too small to comprehend everything that is happening. She’s away from home for the first-ever time, surrounded by strangers in a place she’s never been, and she still hasn’t been punished. 

The wait is agony. 

Elphie seems to pick up on her dip in mood, pulling Galinda a little closer and giving her hand another squeeze. “M-miss Morrible? If we’re not going home, where are we going to stay?”

Things move a little faster after that. More people enter the room, tall men in shiny armor whose eyes all widen in shock at the sight of the children. Galinda leans on Elphie’s arm, letting the taller girl hold her against her side and whisper to her soothingly as they follow the men down the hall. 

The palace is vast, and every now and then Galinda catches sight of large furred creatures with massive blue wings and terrifyingly large teeth. It seems to take ages to get to a bedroom, Morrible telling them under no uncertain terms that they are not allowed to leave without permission. 

Elphie stands in front of Galinda again as the lady gives her instructions, points out the attached bathroom, and tells them someone will be by with food in a little bit. She doesn’t offer any clothes, even though Galinda’s are soiled and gross. 

When the door finally slams shut, Galinda all but collapses against Elphie. She’s confused and her head hurts and her stomach hurts and her dress is ruined and her lungs are aching. She’s clutching Elphie hard enough to bruise, trying to draw strength from the older girl, even though Elphie is terrified too. Elphie is confused, too. 

But Elphie is a big sister, not that Galinda remembers it, and so Elphie is able to shove down her fear and confusion and gently turn to Galinda, wrapping her in a hug as she breaks down in heaving sobs. She’s tired, and she’s hungry, and she doesn’t feel good. 

She says all this to Elphie, whining in a way she knows she’s too old for, and Elphie just rubs her back and shushes her. Eventually, Galinda’s legs give way to the force of her cries, and Elphie carefully picks her up, grunting with effort until Galinda is high enough to wrap her legs around the green girl’s waist and hold on. 

“It’ll be okay, Galinda,” Elphie says. “I’ve got you.”

“I-I-I want to go home,” Galinda cries. Even if she’s terrified of what her parents may say about how she’s behaved, it’s at least a predictable, almost comfortable fear. This place is new and cold and entirely too confusing to want to stay. 

“I know,” Elphie sighs. “Me too.”

Galinda frowns, slipping her thumb back in her mouth now that there’s no adults around to see. Elphie won’t mind. Elphie won’t tattle on her. As the older girl carries Galinda to the bed and carefully places her down, climbing up beside her to hug her once more, Galinda clings to her desperately.

Galinda wants to go home…but she also wants Elphie. She can’t bear the thought of parting with the older girl. The very idea of being separated sends ten times as much fear through her little body, making her shiver and shake as her stomach twists so hard she’s scared she’ll make a mess.

“Don’ wan’ you to l-leave,” she stammers out. She buries her nose in the crook of Elphie’s neck, breathing in her faint scent. It’s familiar. Comforting. Elphie’s warm body against hers as their hearts start to settle just feels right. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elphie promises. She runs her fingers through blonde locks. “I would never leave you, Galinda.”

Galinda nibbles on her thumb, still worried and anxious. But the words soothe her a little, slowing the incessant flow of tears. She wonders if Elphie would want to come live with her when they escape. Elphie would be nice to her. Elphie wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t yell at Galinda for being too dumb or too quiet or too emotional.

Elphie would love Galinda. Just like Galinda loves Elphie. 

[biibini]

Hiii! I love your hcs! Can I request a scenario of going on a date to an arcade with Mizu? (and possibly winning her a Snoopy plushie??)

fluff modern!mizu x reader at an arcade date (request)

tags: fluff, arcade date, modern!mizu, reader & mizu are already dating, date nights, snoopy reference, sweet kisses, author loves love, author wishes that was her with mizu

a/n: thank YOU for reading my hcs! that one mizu & snoopy post is so adorable i just want my girl to be happy :,) also i’m starting school AGAIN i can never catch a break w this damned quarter system

modern!mizu & u are already dating in this scenario

but every other week would be a date night

it didn’t matter if it was a simple or extravagant date

it was always a designated time to catch up, spend quality time together, and experience new things

even with the busyness of college and classes and homework, it was still a night to look forward to

this upcoming friday was a night at the arcade

u had been there with friends before but it had been a couple months since ur last visit

it was also mizu’s first time going to the arcade w u as a date

u had already talked ab the games u wanted to try together such as the mario kart, a few shooting games, airhockey

modern!mizu would def let her competitive side come out with some games

she already gets competitive with taigen when it comes to sports

she totally doesnt rock his shit in basketball

if she’s against you, she’ll go easy on you

doesn’t mean she won’t back down from a fight

You and Mizu were hand in hand, checking out the games available at the arcade. Going down one of the aisles, you found yourselves at the some of the newer arcade games. Skimming at some of them, you hear a familiar sound.

Hadoken!

It was soon followed with a grunt and fighting groans. You turn back to find a Super Street Fighter game, patiently waiting to be played. Your eyes widen as they found the perfect challenge.

You playfully tugged at Mizu’s hand, pointing at the retro machine.

“I bet I can beat you at the Street Fighter.” you said, lightly jabbing at her competitive spirit. You knew she would put her all in it. However, you wondered of its limit.

Mizu glanced at you, and then looked back to spot the machine. Her eyes ignited, seeing the challenge put right in front of her by her

“You in?” you say, defying her in a playful tone.

“You bet.”

so um

turns out that was the WORSE POSSIBLE GAME YOU COULD CHALLENGE MIZU TO

u played a little bit with friends and family but mizu was on another level

how exactly did mizu beat ur ass for 5 rounds straight???

old man eiji.

he was a retro arcade go-er during his prime

even had the game console to continue his practice at home

if he wasn’t welding or fixing up someone’s bike, he was definitely spending his time grinding on the game

so modern!mizu end up playing games with him bc he got sick and tired of the computer bots

Player 2 Wins blinks again on the screen while her character, Ryu, celebrates another round of victory. You slowly turn to face Mizu to find a grin forming on her face.

“Wanna go again, baby?”, she taunts, hugging your hips closer to her.

You blankly stare into her eyes, your orbs empty from defeat. Mizu already knew your answer.

“Let’s find one we can both do.”, she said as she gave you a quick peck on the cheek. Her arm wrapped around your shoulder, beginning your hunt for the next game to win together.

modern!mizu would def try to win u a prize

actually no not one

all of them. yes she will try.

do not let her in a round1

iykyk

that is plushie heaven and credit/debit hell

her poor card will be spent trying to win u a prize

she wouldn’t outright announce her achievements

but she would attempt to sneak away from u, hoping to get lucky and win a plushie or two

u loved and appreciated the sweet thought

but

there was no room on the bed, the bookshelves, the desk, the couch

mizu even brought a couple plushies back home but her old man started to complain about mizu and u coming by just to drop off plushies and not see him

(he likes the plushies but bro is alone with his craft and misses his girl sometimes)

if u eyed any specific prize, modern!mizu would stop for nothing to earn it for u

at the arcade, u eyed a snoopy plushie, stuck in a claw game (for a little too long) and pouted at how cute it was

like cmon it was rlly cute

he had a puffer and a lil hat

mizu immediately saw ur reaction and locked in

Mizu’s arm slides off your shoulder. You look back, hoping to find the missing arm. No arm, no Mizu.

Instead, you find her striding over to the claw machine you just stared at with a goal in mind. Snoopy was coming with you, one way or another. The thought of Snoopy being in your arms was nice, but there was no way she was going to get it.

First off, your bedroom was already filled with plushies. Peace and love to all of them. They were practically your babies. However, every flat surface or shelf had a plushie. Every. Single. Surface.

The bed was crowded as well. No way there would be space for another plushie. There was also no way that she would go back home to drop off more plushies. Eiji was at his limit with the amount she dropped off during the last time.

Secondly, she had already spent so much money trying to get twinning plushies for the both of you. Her poor credit card was taking hit after hit after hit. Mizu drastically failed after every attempt and you had to basically pull her away from the machine after her 11th time.

Third of all, the both of you were getting ready to leave the arcade for dinner. After getting demolished by Mizu 5 rounds in a row at Super Street Fighter, you didn't have much energy in you to play more games.

But once Mizu gets set on something, it's hard to pull her away from it. It was already difficult separating her from her failed claw games earlier. You just decided to accept the outcomes of this claw machine this time around.

On the other hand, Mizu was in the zone. She studied the position of the plushie, focusing on how far back Snoopy sat. She slid the arcade card, starting her future attempts to retrieve the plushie. She bit the inside of her cheek as her hand carefully held the joystick. The machine jingled, starting its countdown.

0:30

Mizu took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Focus Mizu.

0:29

You can get this for Y/N.

0:28

Mizu opens her eyes, pushing the joystick to the right in hopes of aligning the claw with Snoopy. She then pushes the joystick forward, nudging it as it gains proximity to the dog plushie.

0:23

The claw seemed right above Snoopy. Although it made you satisfied, Mizu couldn't agree. Something felt off.

0:21

She nudged the joystick to the left once.

0:20

Still unsatisfied, she pushed the claw back. Her eyes squinted, hoping to gain a clearer view of the claw and its alignment.

0:18

She continues to stare at the placement, studying it. Almost watching it like prey.

You watch from behind as you hear the faint sounds of laughing and other arcade games being played go off. In front of you is complete silence and concentration.

0:10

Mizu nudges the joystick forward.

0:09

She gets closer to the game. At this point, her face is practically smudging her view.

0:07

She nudges the joystick to the right once again. She sees the claw fully aligned with the plushie.

0:06

Should I press the button?

0:05

Mizu's eyes glance up and down, hoping to draw the line between the claw and your future prize.

0:04

You watch as her right hand is sitting on top of the collect button. Her fingers are so close to pushing it, practically edging the top of the button. They're ready to take the chance yet her hands refuse to commit.

0:02

"Drop it, Mizu."

0:01

She nudges the joystick one more time, bringing it slightly forward.

0:00

You come up next to her, watching the claw machine slowly descend down to the gigantic pile of plushies, a mix of Snoopy merchandise. Yet only one got your heart.

The claw extends, closing in on the plushie you stared at earlier. Its thin, metal arms wrap around Snoopy's head. It tightened its grip, securing Snoopy in the arm.

You watch the plushie slowly ascend. The both of you carefully watch the claw bring the prize. As the claw continued its journey to the drop-off corner, it slightly swung back and forth. You grab Mizu's right hand, holding it in anticipation and fear. She squeezes it once.

You look up to meet her gaze only to find a reassuring smile. You mirror her, giving her one back. You hear a small thud below. Mizu bends down to find your beloved Snoopy, handing him to you.

Your eyes widen. Snoopy was much cuter up close, especially with his little hat and baby blue puffer jacket. Looking up, you spot a proud Mizu. You simply get closer to her and give her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Thank you, baby."

"Of course," she answers. "Anything for you, my dear."

She backs away and extends her hand out: an invitation to lunch.

You smile, accepting the invitation. With intertwined hands, you leave the arcade with another plushie in hand.

[crying-wolves]

🪻 ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛʀᴇ ᴇᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴇᴇ!ᴀʙʙʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ 🪻

cw: 18+ MDNI!!! little bit of richgirl!abby, anxious!abby, little bit of loser!abby but i’ll let you be the judge of that, alt!reader, reader w/ tattoos + piercings, reader doesn’t care about their job, abby and reader are, like, 18 - 20, mostly fluff, petty theft, minor drug use (abby and reader get a teensy bit high), nsfw under the cut!

a/n: this is ENTIRELY self-indulgent cause i work at the movies and i think i would've liked my job better if Abby was there with me :) thank u so much for reading i love u so much i hope u enjoy <3

wc: 1.3k (a lot longer than i was expecting pls forgive me)

not proofread! im so eepy

dividers by @cafekitsune !

🪻movie theater employee!abby whose family is, as she likes to put it, ‘relatively well off’, so she’s never had to get a summer job before… 

…but when her father emails her an application from their local theater, going on and on and on about how she could manage to learn a thing or two about responsibility and time management and a hundred other things she’s apparently lacking in, she doesn’t see any other option but to piece together a meager resume and send it in.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a response back almost immediately, because they’re just that desperate for new hires.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who shows up to her interview the next week in pressed black dress slacks and a perfectly ironed blue button-up, only to be met with the hiring manager’s tattered black jeans and stained work shirt.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s nervous as fuck during the interview and thinks that she’s taking too long to answer simple questions and tripping over her words, but the manager hires her on the spot, in like, 10 minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who calls her dad on the ride back home to tell him the good news, is met with balloons that say ‘congrats!’ in big sparkly letters on the front and her favorite take-out when she steps through the front door.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who arrives on her first day on the job 20 minutes early. Spotless, bustling with excitement, and so, so unprepared to deal with all that’ll happen in the day.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is introduced to you, after you arrive 10 minutes late, fruity energy drink in hand and sunglasses still hanging on the tip of your nose as your new trainee.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who initially thinks she’ll evaporate in the stuffy heat behind the concessions counter, suddenly feels an icy-cool wave move through her body when you shoot her a lopsided smile.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can hardly hear a word you say as you explain what all the buttons on the register screen do… 

…‘cause she’s too focused on the way your work pants cling to your thighs and flare out at the bottom. on the pretty tattoos sneaking up and down your right arm. on the shiny lip ring that a part of her strangely wants to lick at–

🪻movie theater employee!abby who squeaks out a “yep, yeah! uh, got it!” when you ask her if she has any questions.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who definitely does not got it. Not one fuckin’ bit.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who fucks up a whole lot, at first, and manages to oversalt a batch of popcorn, stock too much of the same candy, overcharge 3 separate customers, spill a strawberry soda all over the counter, get scolded by 2 old men, and burn herself on the hotdog grill.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who smells like butter and exhaustion by the end of her 4 hour shift, but brightens up when you tap a star-shaped sticker onto her shirt and mumble out an amused “see you tomorrow, trainee.”

🪻movie theater employee!abby who realizes she has to do this all tomorrow again and lets out a shaky sigh on the way back to her car

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s slowly getting the hang of it after a few weeks at the theater…

…getting compliments from customers, multitasking between different orders, knowing the back room as well as she does the flavors of the drinks you silently sip during your shifts.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s a little enthralled by you, even if you don’t really notice it.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s too afraid to ask for your number, so scours instagram for your contact instead.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who throws her phone across her bedroom when you finally follow her back one night.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who super smoothly asks you when you’re working so she can try to arrive at her shifts when you go on break.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who freezes up when you invite her over to the park bench in front of the theater and offer her some cajun fries and a hit from your cart.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes you up on both offers, because she’s starving and she wants you to think she’s cool.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes a bigger hit than you were expecting and is a little confused when you giggle at her sudden coughing.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who spends the next 7 hours of her shift trying to act normal, but sees you trying not to bust out laughing in the corner of her eye every few minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a lot closer to you after that…

…who watches you undercharge a frazzled mother on her kid’s birthday, and doesn’t say anything to the supervisor. who sees you swipe a few chocolate bars from the candy cart to give to a group of kids in the arcade. who is certain of your favorite slushie flavor because your lips are always some different color everytime you come back from your too-long bathroom breaks.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who argues about which book-to-movie adaptation is the absolute best when the day’s going by slowly.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who sneaks into different showrooms where the movie has already been playing for a while with you so you guys can guess what’s happened in the plot before.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hides with you in the stockroom to take a break from the yelling customers and screaming kids every once in a while.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who traces the outlines of your tattoos, all heart-eyed while she’s listening to you talk about the new superhero movie that just came out a week ago.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who places a hand at the small of your back when she has to squeeze by you to grab a bucket of popcorn for a customer.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a little green with jealousy when a customer compliments your piercings or makes a joke that really isn’t that funny to begin with, but you laugh anyways cause you’re required to be cordial with them.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s so stupidly thrilled when you kiss her after a rough closing shift and can hardly breath when she climbs into her car to drive herself home.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is so very happy that her dad convinced her to get this stupid job in the first place.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT ! 18+ MDNI!

🪻movie theater employee!abby who lets you eat her out in the tiny bathroom stall in the women’s room on nights when the theater is dead… 

…your left hand squeezing at her tits, your right stretching her left leg over your shoulder. She looks down at you, panting, shuddering, trying and failing to conceal the little huffs and content sighs that fall from her lips every time your tongue swipes against a particularly sensitive spot.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who makes out with you in the backseat of her car when your breaks coincide, and whines in pleasure as you grind your clothed cunt against her covered thigh.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can feel her hand start to shake and her throat go dry as she scurries to the back when you call her from your bedroom, voice all pitched-up and needy, while on your day off. Words strained and quickening wet sounds coming from your background.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who almost gasps when you two are the only ones working the concessions counter and she feels your hand slide from her lower back to squeeze her ass.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s obsessed with the way you watch her expressions as you slowly finger her in the empty break room.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hates that she won’t see you until next summer, but has a million different secret pictures and texts from you that she has saved in a locked file on her phone to get her through the year <3

[floralscented]

— BEJEWELLED ☆ (silver ring!reader)

warnings .ᐟ  nothing other dean being completely whipped for silvia! (i’m being kind to you. say thank you.)

it wasn’t a doubt to anyone, that happened to know silvia, that she enjoyed the jewellery in life. the shiny, sparkling, precious, accessory has always been a staple to silvia’s loves in life, probably the top thing of her list of life loves. yes, jewellery. and who has to deal with her (worrying) obsession with all things shiny and glistening? dean. he is the one person who has to deal with silvia being sidetracked by a jewellery store as they were out, having to deal with her (annoyingly — in dean’s words) stubborn and determined attitude. he can never win. never. he tries, he really does, he tries to be strong. to say ‘no’. but god, she is one stubborn woman. 

and she does not fuck around with her jewellery. 

which brings this to the present day. dean, sam, and silvia, are all in baby. dean, of course, is driving, sam in the passenger seat, and silvia in the backseat, looking out the window like it’s a religion, watching every single store they drive past, making sure she doesn’t miss a single jewellery store — or an antique store. that’s another one of her little obsessions. why? because everything is always so shiny and pretty, so unique. and, sometimes they have jewellery there. 

and, just to her luck, and dean and sam’s luck, they drive passed a jewellery store. and, well of course, silvia catches her eyes on it. 

“Wait—wait, wait, wait. stop the car! stop—” silvia starts, and dean is already wanting to roll his eyes and groan. jesus, please, no. do not let it be a jew— “there was a jewellery store.” and she, of course, confirms both of their suspicions. 

“no. we’re not going in. we don’t have time.” dean says simply, continuing to drive, ignoring her first protests for dean to stop driving. “no, no, no. please! come on. i need to have a look!” she protests again, looking at dean in a way you would’ve thought she was just denied some life-changing opportunity. “you do not need to have a look. you just want to have a look.” dean reiterates, remaining stern, not letting her use her little tricks on him—not again. 

“tomato, to-mah-toe.” she says, rolling her eyes slightly. “just five minutes, please?” she reasons, trying to haggle her way to get what she wants. trying to wear down dean’s defences. and god, she’s always good at it. “i am not stopping this car. and plus, that store was on the other side of the road and in the other direction of where we’re going. i’ll have to turn around, and i am not doing that.” dean shoots back, remaining on his side of the island, not giving up.

but if there’s anything about silvia, is that she’ll get her way. one way or another.

“why not? come on! what if they have some one-of-a-kind pieces? what if there’s something that i’ve always been wanting there? i cannot take my chances in not getting something i’ve been dreaming of forever.” silvia reasons, continuing to push and try to break down dean’s defences, using her ‘logic’. 

“you say that every time.” dean states simply, looking at her in the rearview mirror for a brief second before focusing his eyes back on the road ahead of him. “and it is, more than normally, false.” he adds on. “you don’t know that! what if this time there is really something unique and one-of-a-kind? what if there really is something i’ve always wanted in there? just take a u-turn. please! for me.” silvia protests back at him, her eyes never leaving the side of dean’s head. “it’s really simple.” she adds on, so simply and nonchalantly that it, unsurprisingly, annoys dean. goddamnit. dean’s lips part, going to argue against her points, trying to be reasonable and not let her win—again. but, why is she so good at being so annoying? 

he groans and rolls his eyes before doing a, probably illegal but nobody really is watching him, u-turn. driving in the direction of the jewellery store. and, even if he isn’t looking at her, he can feel her smugness. that stupid, stupid smile on her lips. the same one she wears once she’s gotten her way. it’s so mocking. so smug. stupid. annoying. cute. adorable. fucking hell. and he can feel the way sam is just looking at him, looking at him with that same look he always gives dean when he caves into silvia’s ridiculous demands and needs, the one that says ‘you’re so whipped for her, you idiot’. and he wishes he could fight against it, say that he isn’t whipped for her, deny it with all his heart, but none of his words are ever true. 

not the ones that he uses to deny his adoration and care for silvia, anyway. 

dean pulls into a parking spot in front of the small jewellery store, turning the car off and taking the keys out of the ignition. silvia is already unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car, radiating with happiness, and smugness, and she bounds her way to the entrance of the store, already knowing that dean and sam will be shadowing behind her like two little puppy dogs. especially dean—even if he hates to admit it. he’s on a tight leash. 

as the door opens to the store by silvia, a small bell rings, and it isn’t long before silvia is in her element. the air-conditioned, full of cases of shiny, jewelled, ornate jewellery, just begging for her attention. and to be her new possession in her wide collection. silvia smiles at the sight of the jewellery, sending a small greeting to the worker and denying (politely) their question about needing help. dean boredly sighs, but he knows better than to voice his boredom or annoyance, keeping his mouth shut as he watches silvia trail around the store, looking at each and every piece of jewellery inside the glass cases. 

“just—can you make a choice already? hurry?” dean says, boredom and annoyance lacing his tone, but god, it’s soft. he’s soft. there really isn’t any bite to his words, he’d never. as much as he wishes, he never can find himself being truly upset at her. “please?” he adds on, looking at her exasperatedly. 

“i’m looking. just wait.” silvia replies simply, keeping her eyes on the case of necklaces. looking between the gold, silver, diamond, ruby, emerald—all and any of the choices she can see—jewellery. dean wants to protest, wants to tell her ‘no, just hurry. you have five minutes, and if you don’t choose anything, we’re going’, but he can’t. he keeps his mouth shut. not at all telling her anything he probably should say to her. he just sucks it up and nods, not fighting against her words. 

time goes on, many, many minutes pass. before, finally, silvia picks out the jewellery she wants. sure, it’s.. a few pieces. but, who is dean to deny her? who is he to say ‘no, only pick one’? come on, he’d never. even if he really, really wants to. “what’s the choices you have, hm?” he asks, walking over to her and looking at the array of necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings she’s decided on. 

jesus christ. someone help this man. 

“is that all?” he asks simply, looking to her, seeing the smile on her lips and the joy in her eyes is all that makes him melt even further. silvia nods, humming quietly as she keeps her eyes on her selected group of jewellery. 

dean then looks to the worker, nodding slightly. “alright. we’ll take it.” he says. 

and they’re back in the car. a bag of boxed jewellery sitting beside silvia in the backseat, her eyes back to being feasted upon the stores they pass as they continue their drive. you may be saying, what did sam have to say during this situation? and to that, all he was doing was sending teasing looks to dean about how he let’s her drag him around, making him unable to say no to her even as much as he wants to, making him look at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world, making him be all soft and mushy. 

there’s a gasp from the backseat, silvia’s eyes widening. “there’s another jewellery store!” 

fucking hell. he's done for.

♱ JADE YAPS: i'm back, i'm back. i knoooowww i was gone for so long, and i'm so, so, so, so sorry for that! but i'm going to be posting as much as i can now!!!! (and i've got more coming for you guys!)

.ᐣ TAGLIST: @littlesoulshine, @multiversefanfics @blossomingorchids @h8aaz

.ᐟ JOIN THE TAGLIST!

.ᐟ SEND IN REQUESTS!

go to pinned .ᐣ view my other work .ᐟ my c.ai .ᐟ

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heem.... to do... do platonic hc...? If u do (and I'm sorry if your requests are closed), could you write about Jaheira and minthara being Subtlety motherly/material to a Tav who opened up about their crappy relationship with their mother? Like, kind of, being sure they ate something, being sure they go to bed on time (busting into their tent and taking whatever their working on, reading/fixing a weapon or whatnot, like a parent catching their child on their phone at midnight), or like helping them do their hair in the morning and praising them a little more than normal? Please than thank you~

Motherly Jaheira

First of all I love this prompt so thank you anon. Second of all, as much as I love Minthara, I can’t see that woman having a maternal bone in her body. So, I hope it’s alright that I just did Jaheira!

Jaheira could smell the mommy issues coming off of you before you ever even mentioned your mother.

Even she didn’t really know what about you gave it away. Maybe it was in the way you over eagerly tried to please her. Or how your hair was done with all the elegance of someone who never really learned how to braid.

It didn’t matter though, because it only took a matter of days fighting by her side for you to open up to her about your maternal woes one night over wine at Last Light Inn.

You felt so compelled to share your story that you had half a mind to check the wine for Klauthgrass. Aside from a terribly high alcohol content, it was clean.

The night ended with your head in her lap, crying so hard you could hardly get your words out. All while Jaheira listened intently and stroked your hair. Not your best moment, you admit.

After that night though, she is sure to put a little extra attention into you, shooting you an extra look of approval when you did something particularly impressive or taking on the task of teaching you proper hair care.

She does her best not to treat you like a child, yet she sees this little child in you that’s begging to be loved and cared for.

She started calling you cub pretty much as soon as she met you, but now it seemed to slip off her tongue more often than even she intended it to. She also started to subconsciously add complimentary adjectives in front of the nickname. You were “little cub” or “clever cub.”

One night, she noticed you had a particular affinity for tucking an extra bedroll to your chest just so you’d have something to hold on to. The next night you find a small stuffed blue owlbear sitting next to your bedroll.

On nights you can’t sleep, she’ll tell you old Harper tales of days past. Karlach is always all too happy to move her bedroll closer so she can listen in too.

You notice there are patches in your clothes where there used to be holes. Your armor is nicely laid out rather than haphazardly strewn across the dirt.

She knows you are just as capable of taking a hit as anyone else in the party, but she pays careful attention to heal and dress your wounds. She’s much gentler with you than she is with anyone else.

And she insists on checking in on wounds every day. Even when they are minor it is good practice to clean and rebandage regularly.

When it’s just the two of you, she’s sure to be extra affectionate. She knows it embarrasses you a little when you’re around the others, but sometimes you just need to rest your head on her shoulder while she pulls you into a tight hug.

She loves to do your hair for you. She always says her girls were never ones for sitting still, and Jord never let her do anything more brush it and slick it back behind his ears.

She really struggles to be complimentary, but she tries to highlight your finer moments when she can.

And if ever there comes another night with slightly too much wine and a slightly too heavy burden, she will be there with listening ears once again.

[philtstone]

Shawn/Juliet, "holding hands under the table"

i cant actually find which number it is from this list of prompts but that could just be my brain being fried from the week. also, everyone can feel free to send me more prompts lol. strike while the iron is hot, etc. this might be the most sedate tone i've ever hit with a psych fic. set immediately after the s5 finale -- like, hours after -- and hopefully the characters are all at the right place, emotionally. theres definitely a bit of a grey zone there in s5-6 where a lot is left unsaid but kind of known but also kind of not known. oh, jules.

She asks Lassiter to give her a ride because she probably shouldn’t be driving with a recent head injury. EMTs said no concussion, which is a good thing, but Juliet feels shaken enough that she’s going to do the intelligent, grown up woman thing and ask a friend for a favor.

She can’t help but wonder if maybe she does have a concussion after all, because Carlton behaves extremely fucking weirdly for pretty much the entirety of the drive.

Considering it’s Carlton, that’s really saying something.

“Vick gave me Shawn and Gus’s check,” she says as smoothly as she can, as they get in the car. It’s not entirely a lie, but it does feel oddly duplicitous in a way that holding hands with Shawn under the briefing table earlier didn’t. “Can you drop me off at the house?”

“House?” says her usually gruff partner, high-pitched. She’d caught him at the last second and kind of serendipitously, right as he was making his way out of the station, looking spooked, his jacket only half-on. At the time Juliet felt relieved, but now she’s wondering if maybe he’d needed some time to decompress before being made responsible for another person’s safety again. “What house? Spencer’s house? Doesn’t he live in a laundromat?”

“Henry’s house,” Juliet says, giving him a weird look while he turns the car on. His right eye is twitching. It’s possible that the evening’s events shook him more than he’s willing to admit; wouldn’t be the first time. “Gus told me they headed over there for the night. Carlton, are you alright?”

“I’m just spiffy,” he says through oddly gritted teeth, and sounds the opposite of. “One drop off, coming right up.”

Juliet decides she’ll figure it out in the morning. Her head kind of hurts, as does her elbow, and the catharsis she’d hoped to achieve through finally putting her signature down on that paper has left her a little bit shaky.

It feels good, though. She’ll probably have a good cry in the shower later on.

We did it, says Shawn’s voice in her head, so firm and final and confident. Her stomach and chest and general person are suddenly overcome with a slamming wave of affection she definitely was not prepared for. Swallowing, Juliet tucks her phone between her legs and shoots him a quick text. Wrapped up at the station.

Incoming text from SHAWN SPENCER:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABE WITH THE POWER!!!!!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

u gonna go home & rest?

Shawn’s texts were exuberant before they started dating, too, but the million heart emojis are a recent development. Something about their introduction makes Juliet want to clench her hands together, melt into the ground, and laugh hysterically at the same time. Shawn turns being a walking contradiction into an art form sometimes. So terrified of facing all the love he’s got to give head-on, but so reckless and sloppy about leaving a trail of it around.

Maybe that’s why she’s fallen so hard for him, Juliet thinks; it matches her inexplicable combination of extreme trust and extreme caution.

Okay. Woah. Too much. Chill out, Juliet; now’s not really the time.

Not with Carlton showing all the signs of working through a hernia in the driver’s seat beside her, mere hours after Serial Killer Takedown.

Yeah, Juliet replies to her boyfriend, then lays her head against the cool car window, closing her eyes before she can notice Carlton’s alarmed glances at her phone.

When they pull up, half the house lights are on. Clearly no one is sleeping, despite the horribly late hour. Juliet glances down at her phone again and realizes it’s pushing three in the morning. She winces. 

“Are you going to be okay driving home?” she asks, one hand on the door handle. Carlton’s staring directly out of the windshield at the house, looking aggrieved in that way that gives him the general look and demeanor of a wet cat. She really hopes he’s okay.

“Fine,” he says. Juliet holds her phone against her lap and sighs. 

“Alright.”

“O’Hara –” he begins, pained, as she opens the door.

“Yeah?”

“I …” A beat. “Nothing. I’m – you get some rest tonight. And – and stay safe.”

“I will,” Juliet replies, surprised by how sincerely the words come out.

Given everything that’s happened, she didn’t expect her own confidence on the subject to be so strong.

Juliet steps out onto the front lawn and watches her partner drive away. Behind her the house silhouettes itself in its own lit glow and the quiet sounds and salty smell of the ocean close by begin to properly filter into her consciousness. She stands still for a few long moments in the dark, which is less threatening now than it was a few hours ago. The humidity thickens her hair and her breath fogs in front of her. When she got Shawn’s text that he and Gus were crashing at his dad’s house instead of the Psych office, call if u need anything jules, she’d been yearning for a shower a bit too much to really think about it. Once her paperwork was out of the way, though, a shower became less important than – whatever feeling brought her here.

Shawn would say it was the idea of pancakes. She likes to think she’s capable of marginally more emotional vulnerability than he is.

She bites her lip, then presses send on the text.

Home.

The response is an immediate string of emojis, mainly the heart bubbles but with the addition of a few inexplicable inanimate objects too. She’s not sure what the megaphone or candelabra or pineapple are supposed to represent, but she’s smiling when she knocks on the kitchen door, which is meaning enough for her.

Henry opens it. He looks — exhausted, about the same as Juliet feels, despite the lack of head injury or general bodily trauma. The lines in his face immediately soften at the sight of her. Juliet refuses point blank to allow her eyes to well up.

“In you come,” Henry sighs, making way. Dr. Spencer — Maddie, Juliet supposes — is at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. Muffled sounds of a television come from the next room. Juliet vaguely recognizes them as Phineas and Ferb.

At her entrance, Madeline raises an interested eyebrow and glances at Henry, but beyond that moment of silent communication says nothing.

“Do you want some tea?” she asks simply.

“Please.”

Henry squeezes her shoulder, gently enough that she realizes he somehow noticed and filed away all her injuries earlier. Henry Spencer the detective still surprises her sometimes. “Boys are in the living room,” he says, and goes back to the table while his ex-wife putters around the kitchen more comfortably than is probably wise.

Juliet chews on her lip again. An amused smile fights its way to the surface, coupled with an odd twang of yearning that doesn’t really make much sense. Poor Shawn, she thinks, and it's almost a laugh in the same way she’s almost about to cry. But that’s been true all evening. Henry pulls out another old photograph from the box they seemed to be sorting through before her arrival and peers over the top of his reading glasses.

“Oh God, can you believe I used to wear this stuff in public? You hated this thing.”

“If by this thing you mean that horrible yellow suit …”

“See, it wasn’t the yellow that was the problem. The cut did nothing to flatter my physique.”

Madeline is laughing when Juliet slips out, chamomile tea in hand, to the living room.

At the entrance she stops and takes her heels off. Phineas and Ferb is playing, and loudly at that. As promised, Shawn and Gus are huddled on the couch nursing their empty pancake containers, smelling like sugar and more or less dressed in PJs; she spots what’s surely one of Henry’s old fishing t-shirts, cartoonish in the logo and slightly too baggy on Shawn. She knows any old clothes he keeps in the closet here probably don’t fit him anymore. Juliet wonders if Gus went home to change or if he, too, borrowed clothes. Shawn’s hair has flattened a bit where he must have yanked his shirt down over his head, floofy the way it can be in the mornings sometimes. He’s holding a pillow against his chest. Gus’s sock has a hole in the big toe. Every so often one or both of them will giggle at the TV. 

Her eyes do well up, then. 

Of course Shawn picks that exact second to notice her.

He notices a lot of things, Juliet has come to observe, few of which fit congruously with the many things he forgets or overlooks or can’t be bothered over. She wonders if that’s just an extension of how the spirits work, and if he’d explain it to her if she asked him. There’s a resigned part of her that doesn’t think he will, and a practical part of her that guesses at an attention deficit diagnosis that probably gave him some grief growing up and doesn’t really pair well with psychic visions or an enduring fear of being too vulnerable.

Three in the morning is too late to be mulling any of this stuff over, Juliet thinks. Besides which, most of it becomes suddenly irrelevant as she’s hit with the expression that takes over his face at the sight of her.  

Three in the morning, she reminds herself. Near death experience. Don’t read into it.

Shawn doesn’t say anything, only looks at her with all that throat-closing tenderness Juliet has ignored so many times before. I think you’re swell, he’d said. In some ways, she’s always been able to see right through him without even trying. 

Gus is wedged right beside him, hogging the blankets. There’s enough room on the couch for Juliet to fit on the other side of them. 

She walks over, hands Shawn her tea, and climbs into his lap. Her knees bend over his right leg, her shoulder sinks into his chest and her head settles against his neck. Shawn still doesn’t say anything. He just sets the mug down carefully on the floor, takes a deep, relieving breath, and wraps his arms around her. She hadn’t really worried that Gus might complain, but when he reaches over unprompted and squeezes Juliet’s unhurt elbow, the last little knot in her chest dissolves fully. She gropes her hand over the upholstery and squeezes his arm back.

“... latest in my brilliant line of ‘Inators, I call it the Unlikely-Inator! She pairs beautifully with the Likeli-Inator 2000. Together, Perry the Platypus, I shall use them to somehow take over the Tri-State area, and then the world!”

“You wanna change?” Shawn murmurs into her hair after a moment. 

“Later,” Juliet says.

“Mmmkay.”

The old t-shirt is soft against the skin of her cheek and smells like laundry detergent. The rest of the house smells like a family lives in it, even though Juliet knows that’s not really true, and it also smells like Shawn, a little bit. Shawn smells like Shawn, too. His chest rumbles beneath her with every soft laugh the cartoon pulls out of him. 

“Oh – oh, remember this, this next bit is really funny,” Gus says. His voice is just as soft as Shawn’s.

“Man, you know I have this whole show memorized.”

“I’ve never really seen it,” Juliet says quietly. They watch as the little platypus karate kicks Dr. Doofenshmirtz in the head.

“I know,” says Shawn. “But that’s being rectified. Ha! Gus, we should turn the Psych office into a funhouse next week. Just to see if we can.”

He pats her thigh and Juliet feels a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth against Shawn’s neck.

“Shawn, I am not stepping foot in another amusement park since that crazy-ass chick and her boyfriend tried murdering everyone last month. We can try turning it into a bunny sanctuary instead.”

“I like the way you think, hermano. Wait wait, here comes the explosion. Classic!”

She falls asleep slowly, lulled by the comfortable heat of Shawn’s body and the muted, silly sounds from the television. 

When Juliet wakes up, her cheek is pressed against an actual pillow, she’s horizontal, and she has no idea what day it is. She blinks against the grit in her eyes and the fact that her whole body is sore before realizing she slept on a couch. Someone put a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body and took the time to change her out of her gross work clothes. She looks down, only mildly discombobulated. She’s wearing the old fishing t-shirt Shawn had on last night and what must be a pair of Madeline’s pajama pants. They’re a pretty purple color and silky against her legs. She definitely still has her underwear on. A soft snore comes from the ground below her and Juliet realizes she’s still in the living room at Shawn’s dad’s house; Shawn himself is burritoed in an ancient sleeping bag on the ground directly beneath her and Gus is sprawled on a camp bed that’s a bit too small for him on the other side of the coffee table. They’re both still fast asleep. The light coming from the window is light enough that it’s properly morning, but the rest of the house is still dead quiet. A soft blue light appears suddenly on the coffee table; her phone is vibrating, which she realizes must have been the thing that woke her up in the first place.

She reaches carefully over Shawn to grab it. The home screen shows a text from Carlton, received minutes ago.

Got home alright?

She could say that Gus gave her a ride; it would be another easy lie, and he’d happily corroborate it. She hates the idea, though. She looks down at Shawn’s sleeping form, the unruly tuft of hair poking out from beneath the blankets and the drool on his pillow. Telling Carlton would be a bad idea, she knows.

Juliet types, for a second time trying not to think too hard about it, Yes, home. Safe and sound.

She sinks back into the surprisingly comfortable couch cushions, instinctively curling into herself, full of feeling she can’t quite articulate. After a moment of staring silently at the wall, Juliet turns onto her back and reaches one quiet arm down. The tips of her fingers meet the soft warm skin of Shawn’s ear, and when he doesn’t wake up, she keeps her knuckles there, barely moving, only rubbing her thumb up and down every so often. 

Everything else can be a problem for tomorrow. Slowly, she falls asleep again. 

[donutz]

PickyPiggy x reader Valentine's Day special[7♡8]

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

What did they do in the morning on Valentines?

— She had her morning pb & j

— She forgot it was Valentine’s Day

— Didn’t know why everybody was so excited

— She did have gifts though

— Which is your favorite snacks

— She’s only good with gifts, IF it includes food

What did they do for you?

— Spent extra time with you, she didn’t even notice she did

— She just did it naturally

— She actually shared some of her food with you!! She never does that!

— ‘Spent extra time’ meaning that she was around you more and closer to you

— Like she got closer to you whenever she was near you, she also got in your face more often, she does that, is trying not to(if you find it annoying)

— She tucked you in at night, kind of— watched you, to make sure you were asleep…

— She usually tucks you in but not the watching part.

— She gave you pieces of candy the second February started, naturally, she kind of just does things without noticing

What did they get you?

— Candy, snacks, food, she's good with food

— Anything else? She's clueless

— She saw people giving flowers to others for Valentine’s, and was confused

— “Flowers? That's not food though…” Gifts that aren't food is very confusing to her

— Oh yeah, and a cake, your favorite flavor!

What did you give them?

— Also food

— She DOES NOT mind, at all

— She's all about food, literally

— I'd says she likes sweet instead of spicy, so she got more candy than actual food

— You also gave her 5 pb & j's!

— It's not a lot for her

— Probably has fast metabolism too

— Maybe that's why she's always hungry(real)

Did they do anything special? (Extra hugs, kisses, changing their routine etc.)

— She did do extra hugs and kisses, naturally

— I don’t know how she does those things without realizing 

— She’ll give you a kiss and then say she gave you a hug

— Tried to draw for you! She shows barely any interest in art so that was a big whoop!

— You said you were very proud of her doing that

— She got all happy, all jolly ‘n stuff

—  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/42502790227352415/

What activities did you both do?

— You had an eating contest for the first time! She won

— It was an apple eating contest! If you don’t like apples, then…

— You lost

— It can be hard going against a pig who is only about eating when it comes to eating contests

— So don’t expect to win unless you know you have a bigger stomach than hers, somehow

— You two.. Knitted? She found it very boring and wasn’t entertained, but seeing you all pretty while knitting motivated her to do it

— She sometimes purposefully didn’t ‘know’ how to do it just so you can help her with it

— She has the smarts for that!!

Did they seem brighter today?

— She was excited to give you your gifts!(food)

— You could see her jumping repeatedly when it was time to give and receive gifts

— She made little squeals, not pig squeals, happy squeals

— “Eee!” (real)

Anything new about their appearance?

— Nope!

— Nope!

— Nope!

— Nooo ^_^

How many times did they say I love you?

— “Oh yeah, I love you!”

— She said it once

— But the next day she counted and mentally said, “Oh shoot! I should've said it more…”

— Then she said it 7 more times, she tried making it to 10 but kept on forgetting

Did they ask to be your Valentines, or did they ask if you could be their Valentines? There’s a difference!

— “May I be your Valentine’s? I got you food too!” She said with a bright smile on her face

— She was happily tapping her feet, barely being nervous

— She was barely nervous the whole day, other than when she continuously remembered your gifts and kept getting nervous

— She was getting nervous because she was trying not to eat your gifts

What did they do the night before Valentine's Day?

— She checked over the gifts

— Trying to make sure there were no mold, incorrect gifts, aka food you don’t like, the correct flavors you favorited, enough food and candy to last for the next hour

— She went to sleep, happy as ever, because she saw that there were no flaws in her gifts

Were they shy asking to be your Valentines or when they asked if you could be their Valentines?

— Not at all! But not confident!

— She was just cheerful the whole time! Somehow!

— She gladly gave you the food after you said yes(you WILL say yes)

Did they add anything extra to their areas(their little homes)? Or their activities?

— Isn’t one for decorating unless it’s about food

— When the apple eating contest was going on, she stole one of your apples, not to help you, but she just wanted one

What did they do when it was time to sleep?

— She went to sleep like a cat in the warm rays from the sun

[misserabella]

would u be able to write like another enemies to lovers ellie williams fic?? or like a part two to just pretend bc i loved that sm 🙌🙌

a/n; of course i will honey

jealousy, jealousy

ellie williams x fem! reader

enemies to lovers!

pt2!!

summary; ellie and you hated each other, until the bottle chooses you and she can’t take it anymore. the game has started, and she’ll leave the pieces for you to make the next move.

cw; mean! ellie (but like really mean), mean! reader, fighting, blood, knifes and weapons, alcohol, drinking, drug mentions and usage (weed), jealousy, possessiveness, public sexual actions (they don’t get caught), making out, choking, hair pulling, kissing, hickeys, fingering, cum eating, teasing, degradation and praise, edging (??)… +18 CONTENT, MINORS DON’T INTERACT OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

-

you and ellie didn’t get along. she was rude, always bickering and punching the words out of your guts with her hurtful snaps.

you two couldn’t spend more than a minute together before you’d wish you could choke her with your own hands. she was infuriating.

but who could’ve thought that the day in which you’d need her would come? in which you would pull her close to never let go?

it was funny really, how a little game could change everything.

ellie’s little remarks, ellie rolling her eyes when you’d hunted a bigger deer than her, ellie making you trip on the snow and then laughing at you when you fell head first, snow covering your whole face…

she was a bitch, really. always picking at something. you hadn’t hit the bulls eye of the target while training shooting? she’d laugh and show you how good her aim could be.

“why don’t you do it with your eyes closed then, hm? since you’re so good at it.”

“that’s such a nice idea, then i won’t have to stare at your face anymore!” she smirked, before putting a hand over her eyes and aiming. you scoffed when she perfectly hit the heart.

“yeah sure, i can do that too if i peek through my fingers…” you said, and she laughed.

“are you sure about that?” she arched her eyebrows, nodding at your failed shots.

“fuck you.” you spat, and she smirked.

“you wish.” she whispered.

she would win at a drinking game in jesse’s party? you wouldn’t have the end of it.

“woah, careful princess, try not to fall for me.” she mocked you when she watched you slightly trip.

“call me princess one more time and i’ll fucking choke you.” you threatened and she smirked.

“kinky… i like it.” she winked, and you’d throw her your drink, making her emerald eyes widen as she dodged it the best she could, still getting some on her jeans.

“getting wet for me so easy, williams?” that would be your moment to mock her. and she’d scoff.

“at least i’m not the one dripping.”

and before you knew it, you’d be shivering on your way back home, fully drenched on alcohol. let’s say she ended up the same way.

your fights were so normal that your friends had started to ignore them.

“oh sure, as if i didn’t kick your ass this morning…” you rolled your eyes, taking a hit of your blunt.

“you really think you won? i slipped due to the snow.” she smirked, and you scoffed.

“sure, williams, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“you surely don’t. you have me getting nightmares about your face, waking up drenched in sweat.” she mocked you, and you rose your eyebrows.

“drenched in sweat, sure… you sure about that?” you teased her, taking a peek to her thighs and she hissed. “hey, i’m not the one dreaming about me. but who could blame you. the thing i wanna know is…, do you touch yourself thinking about me too?” her whole face turned red in anger—and maybe something else—, and jesse certainly had to get into it to try and calm the two of you down before you could throw hands at each other.

of course, sometimes that would be impossible to achieve —mostly while you were training combat with Maria—, and the two of you would end up returning home with a brown lip or new bruises.

“one word and i’ll kill you.” ellie would mutter as joel wouldn’t stop staring at her, a smirk on his lips.

“she really has a good right hook.” he’d say before disappearing, and ellie would groan.

but lately things had changed, and ellie had become meaner, rougher… her words were more hurtful, and she definitely was ignoring you more. she seemed on edge lately, jaw always gritted and hands fisted.

“move.” you stopped talking to jack when her voice came from your right. the cafeteria was busy, busting with people from town to get something to eat, and you were catching up with one of your friends, with who you’d grown really close the last couple of weeks.

your eyes found ellie’s and you frowned.

“i said fucking move.” she pushed you away, harshly to make her way in between the two of you, her trolley in between her hands. you were supposedly ‘in the way’ to her spot.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked her, anger in your voice.

“for starters, the mere fact that you’re still breathing.” you scoffed, and in a quick swift of your hand you took your knife, sending it flying across the room and towards her. she was quick enough to dodge it, and the silence filled the cafeteria when the knife harshly dug itself on the wood of the wall on her back.

she was always quick, but this time you had been quicker, and the cut on her cheek was the proof. one of her hands came up to it and swiped away the blood dribbling from it, staining her fingertips in crimson.

“do that again and i’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened.

“i’d like to see you try.” you said, and she was ready to jump, but joel was quick to get in the middle of it.

“ellie.” he said, and she looked at him, harshly dropping her food tray onto one of the tables to pass by him, completely ignoring him and towards the door. but of course, you received a hard bump on your shoulder before she disappeared.

tonight was no different.

the alcohol was bitter and burned her throat, and the blunt on her hand was dying off way too quickly for her taste. the music was loud, and jesse’s house was filled with people dancing and drinking.

it was summer, and jesse had promised a good party. who would say no on their right mind?

you couldn’t, either.

you were laughing, sharing a blunt with dina on the sofa in front of her, cheeks flushed in pink and hazy eyes. jesse was talking to her, but she wasn’t really paying attention, not anymore. he had been talking for 30 fucking minutes and she was done.

suddenly, somebody hummed and smirked. “why don’t we… play the bottle?” people groaned, other laughed and cheered.

ellie huffed. “what are we, fucking thirteen?”

it was a stupid game, so stupid that in less than five minutes a large group of people was sitting on the floor in a circle, a bottle sitting in the middle. and of course, dina had dragged you into it. jesse had done the same with ellie, even though he had feared that she would choke him in any moment. she almost did.

you were having fun, ‘cause the game was so stupid that it was actually funny, and dina was only making it funnier with how drunk and high she was.

the whole crowd let out screams of excitement and cheers when the bottle landed on you. you rolled your eyes when dina shook you, excited, even more when it landed on jack. he was laughing, amused. you two were shaking your heads, you were friends, you didn’t look at the other that way. but people were eager, trying to get what they wanted.

ellie’s blood was boiling. you were blushing. you were fucking blushing. blushing for that douchebag who probably wouldn’t know how to treat you good, how you deserved.

the next thing she did? she would blame it on the alcohol, and probably the weed.

the crowd fell silent as she suddenly stood up, and your eyes widened when she stomped towards you, taking your hand in a harsh grip that wasn’t enough to hurt you, but enough to make you stand up as she dragged you away from the group and out the house. the summer breeze hit you, and you stopped her tracks by freeing yourself from her grip.

“what the fuck?” you asked her, and she turned around to face you, her emerald eyes looked angry, and her jaw was clenched. “what’s wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you!” she screamed and you scoffed. “you were going to kiss that asshole!”

“i was not!” you yell back. “and even if i were, why would that matter!?”

“it matters. he probably doesn’t even know how to french kiss!”

“oh, and you do?!”

“yes! i do actually!”

“yeah, of course you do…” you scoffed, and she arched her eyebrows.

“what? need me to show you?” before you knew it, you had been cornered against the house’s wall, her breath hitting your face. a shiver went down your spine at her harsh tone. “tell me. would that shut you the fuck up?” she inquired, and you looked at her with hatred.

“try me.”

she looked at you, emerald eyes shining in the dark, and in a harsh tug of your shirt’s collar, she was smashing her lips against yours. you grunted in pain when she harshly pushed you against the wall, your hands finding her hair to tug, making her groan. one of her legs pushed in between your own and up, making you grind down on her, her right hand keeping you in place by surrounding your neck.

it was dizzying, the feeling of her lips, and her body heat, the roughness of her touch and her tongue pushing inside your mouth. she tasted like weed and alcohol, and you found yourself getting addicted to the mix.

you opened your mouth for her, leaned on her touch, pulled her closer. you moaned when one of her hands cupped your tit, harshly gripping it and pinching your nipples, which could be seen through your white tank top.

“fuck ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your neck, sucking to leave marks that you were too gone to care about. you couldn’t understand. why she was kissing you. why you were kissing back. but did it really matter when it felt this good?

“what? you thought he would make you feel this way? that he’ll kiss you like i do? touch you like i do?” her thigh pushed up to your core, making your clit catch with the seam of your shorts. “you bitch. you’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to have nothing more but me in your mind.” she growled, and you gasped for air when she pulled from you so you could ground down on her thigh.

anyone could come out looking for you two and find ellie unbuttoning your pants, her hand slowly pushing into them and under your underwear. your back arched and your lips parted in a moan when her fingers dipped in your folds, she moaned as well when she felt just how wet you were, and just for her.

“teasing me about getting wet for you when you’re the one dripping under my fingers, hm?” she mocked you, and you gasped.

“fuck you.”

“i’m already at it.” she smirked, a whimper ripping your throat when her fingers found your clit, but you muffled it by biting down on your lip. “atta girl. nice and quiet. just how i like it.” you moaned, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “let me help with that.” she said, leaning in to kiss you. it was sloppy, and dirty. she kissed you as if you were hers to take, as if your cunt was hers to fuck. her fingers were thick stretching your pussy. she hummed. “so fucking tight.” you couldn’t stop moaning and letting out little pleased sounds that had her dripping on her underwear. “that feels good, hm? i bet it does. look at you, you’re dribbling baby.” she mocked you, her thumb cleaning the corner of your mouth and your spit. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she curled them, hitting your g spot. you wanted to scream. ‘cause it felt so fucking good you were melting. “that’s it. that’s the spot, huh? look at you. getting all dumb and fucked out on my fingers. been wanting to have you like this since the first fucking day, shit. been wanting to fuck the attitude of yours out of you for months.” you moaned.

“ellie, fuck, please…” you whimpered, eyes trickling with tears. you were so close it was almost embarrassing, how fast and easy she had pulled you to the edge, how fast your orgasm was approaching. she could feel it. feel the way your walls were tightening and your thighs had started to shake. she could see the way your breathing had become more ragged and you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl? gonna cum for me?” you nodded, whining, teetering the edge. “go ahead baby, soak my fingers.” and with that you were falling apart, gushing around her fingers just like she had asked, moaning her name and being muffled by her lips. you couldn’t follow the kiss, too drunk on the pleasure. she helped you rode it out, kissing you messily, pumping her finger in and out of your drooling cunt.

your knees wobbled, and she pulled out her fingers to suck them clean. you moaned at the sight, eyes glassy and rosy cheeks. she looked at you, and her heart stopped. ‘cause you looked like a fucking mess, but you looked so fucking hot that her pussy was aching for attention.

but she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. ‘cause she had to make a point. and now that she had, she just needed to wait.

you leaned in to kiss her, hand tugging on his auburn hair, but she pushed against it, making you whine and later gasp when her hand held your throat to keep you in place.

“ellie… please…” you begged, in need of more. in need of her.

and she smirked.

“you poor thing.” she mocked you, getting away from you. “if you so badly need to be fucked… jack is inside.” she spat, and before you could say anything, she was walking away, leaving you there on the porch of the house in the middle of the fucking night, with ringing ears and wobbly legs… and as much as you hated to admit it… aching for more.

-

a/n; pt.2? 👀

ellie williams masterlist! <3

xxx

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[damianbugs]

oh also i desperately need ur stephanie related fic recs please hand them over i trust ur judgement

this sudden stephanie appreciation makes me so happy. she is indeed the guy of all time, the best and the greatest forever. no one does it like her ever. i am also so flattered you trust me with this, and so i hope these do not disappoint u anon!

STEPHANIE BROWN CENTRIC FIC RECS ON AO3

Oops by Tiptapricot

Steph wakes up in a dingy Gotham alley, her ears ringing and head pounding like a drum. When she opens her eyes to see a kid in scaly green shorts and a cape, she realizes her mistake on tonight's mission was much bigger than she realized.

MY NOTES: starting off strong with time travel!!! a wonderful fic that focuses on stephs role as a hero and the dynamic between her a dick was so sweet to read. truly a love letter to what spoiler is.

Let Your Clarity Define You by Hinn_River

Five times Stephanie Brown met someone for the first time, and one reunion.

MY NOTES: my life motto is shoot every character you love with the transgender beam. this work is so special to me, especially the entire idea of what being a hero, in any capacity, can mean to someone, and was just a lovely and heartwarming read. (also!!! trans duke!!!!)

What's So Amazing That Keeps Us Stargazing by Cerusee

Jason, the plaque read. Just that. Just…. Jason. There were other cases in the Cave, other costumes on display, but somehow, this one felt different. Stephanie wasn’t stupid; she knew Robin’s colors well as any Gotham kid did. It was Dick’s old costume. (Stephanie knew she wasn’t even supposed to know that name; Batman had had a concussion when he’d called Nightwing by it, and they’d both been cagey with her for months afterwards.) It was the costume he’d worn before he’d grown up and become Nightwing. So why this case, with this costume, but a different name?

MY NOTES: oh this fic!!! the fic of all time!! the conversations had in this fic really dig right into your heart and hit where it hurts, but i just loved every bit of it. stephanie is the balance to a lot of the grief that clouds around bruce, dick and babs and it was just handled marvelously in this. must read!

always for the greener side by chiriklo

Stephanie jumps to action. She hits the ground running, pounding a beat in spry, renewed vigor. There’s nothing holding her back. She’s chasing a string from her heart, burning with desire to make the world a better place. She will climb every wall, jump every fence, leap every hurdle it takes, because nothing can stop Stephanie Brown from fighting for a brighter future. Robin or not, she’ll leave her mark. — Stephanie Brown in first-time meetings, finding purpose, and hard-earned evolution.

MY NOTES: there is just something so special about fics where we follow stephanie throughout her life and watch her grow into the hero she has always been. again, with the loveliest dynamic with dick. a must read!

I'm Your Clone, Your Strange Creation by Sohotthateveryonedied

Fuckin’ crazy, her mother often said. About everything and anyone. The oil prices? Fuckin’ crazy. The corner store employee who refused to let Stephanie purchase a pack of cigarettes for her mother? Fuckin’ crazy. Your father? Fuckin’ crazy. “Why do you do it?” Steph asked him once. Arthur was sat at the coffee table, writing and rewriting a first draft of the note he planned to leave behind after tomorrow’s robbery. “You’re gonna get caught again.” For once, Arthur didn’t tell her off for bugging him. He flipped his pencil around to erase a word, his eraser squeaking on the paper. “Keeps me sane.” Steph considered that, frowning. “Can’t you be sane and not get caught?” “Not how it works, babygirl. Not for people like me.” He rubbed her head. “Go get me another beer, will ya?”

MY NOTES: i think everyone should read this introspection fic simply because the final line is 'Fathers. They never stop cutting.' and it fits just so perfectly into the premise of this work.

to avoid repeating fic recs too many times, you can find more stephanie focused fics here !

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[baroquebucky]

reach

soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate you see glimpses of your future with them; the winter soldier touches you and realizes there’s so much more out there

series masterlist // previous // next

part two

word count: 3.3k (worth it me thinks)

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! here is part two to touch !! i hope u guys enjoy !! might make a part 3 if you guys want ?!? let me know what u guys think !!

You stared at the clunky metal cuffs on your hands, silent as the four of you were squished together along with two agents. Tears staining your cheeks, you had stopped crying as soon as the agents had cuffed you, turning on a steely exterior.

“i knew him” Steve spoke, you were all silent as he stared at the floor, “he looked right at me like he didn’t even know me” his voice distant.

“that was over 70 years ago how is that possible?” Sam spoke, looking at you and then at Steve.

“Zola, Buckys whole unit was captured in 43” Steve explained, his gaze hardening, “Zola experimented on him, whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall” his voice softening.

“they must have found him and-” Steve’s voice was tender as he trailed off.

“none of that’s your fault steve” Natasha groaned, bleeding through the bandage you had put on her.

You looked over at her and frowned, “we need to get a doctor in here, she’s lost a lot of blood if we don’t put pressure on that wound” you turned, looking at one of guards next to you.

You flinched as they turned on the taser, scooting back closer to steve. Your eyes widened as they knocked out the other agent, taking off their helmet only to reveal Maria Hill. You smiled softly.

“that thing was squeezing my brain- who’s this guy?” She spoke, staring at sam.

After breaking out of the cuffs and escaping the truck the five of you headed to some secret base, you were quiet as they chatted among each other, thoughts of bucky clouding your mind.

“y/n, why- what happened?” Steve spoke gently, falling into step with you.

You looked at him, slowing down a little bit. “It was him steve” you whispered, voice shaking. Steve stopped completely, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group.

“what- i thought- are you sure?” He rushed out, breathless.

“i saw us, together” you managed out, a tears falling from your eyes, “it was our future,” you looked at Steve, wiping your eyes before continuing to walk forward.

“y/n we have to talk about this” Steve rushed next to you and you nodded, he opened his mouth but you stopped him as you approached sam, Maria and natasha.

“not now, please” you pleaded and he nodded, holding your hand and squeezing it softly.

“She’ll want to see him first” Maria spoke, a smirk on her face as you all looked at each other in confusion, following her as she pushed some plastic curtains out of the way.

Your stomach fell and a smile found it’s way onto your face, “son of a bitch” you chuckled.

“about damn time” fury mumbled you couldn’t help but smile.

As they attended natasha the rest of you listened to fury rattle off his list of injuries, explaining why he had to stay hidden and why no one was told of him still being alive. You nodded along in understanding, your eyes trained on the floor before looking at him with a smile.

“does this mean i still have to turn in that report?”

Buckys mind was racing. The smell of freshly baked cookies and visions of you in his head. Even flashes of the blonde who was with you.

He could hear his scream after he fell, he saw flashes of them turning him into who he was now. He memorized your face, the way your hair looked and the smile you had on your face for the few seconds you had together. He focused on the future, the picnics and the singing.

Bucky mourned for himself, for who he was and who he wish he could become.

The sound of an argument and multiple footsteps brought him to reality, his eyes still red and nose pink from crying when he saw you. Alexander Pierce walked in and bucky felt sick to his stomach, watching as the agents lowered their weapons on his command.

“Mission report” he spoke coldly, angry when he had to repeat himself once more. Pierce crinkled his nose, hitting bucky in frustration.

Bucky hesitated, he shouldn’t tell them about you, he couldn’t. He needed you safe, he didn’t want you hurt.

“the man on the bridge, who was he” he mumbled, voice fragile as he spoke. Buckys eyes met Pierces, worry flickering in his eyes before pushing it away.

“i knew him” he mumbled, Pierce sitting in front of him. His words were fuzzy as he thought of you and the blonde man, he wanted you, he was meant to be with you. “but i knew him” bucky mumbled once more when Pierce finished talking, his lips pressing into a smal tight smile for a second.

“prep him” Pierce spoke, bucky wanted to cry, his stomach was in knots as Pierce told them to wipe him. Panic rose in his chest, he couldn’t forget you, he couldn’t lose his only hope in 70 years. He leaned back as they pushed him into his seat, his breathing ragged and heavier. He had to hold onto you, the smell on baking cookies in his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I never liked him” you spoke, turning to Natasha, “i told you remember! You brushed me off” you huffed, turning your attention to Maria and some suitcase.

Maria explained insights plan, telling the four of you how to stop the carriers. Making sure to emphasize the need to link all three carriers.

“- we can salvage what’s left” Nick spoke, you furrowed your brows and shook your head, anger bubbling in your chest.

“we aren’t salvaging anything!” You spoke angrily, Nick staring at you in shock. Steve nodded his head.

“we’re taking down SHIELD” Steve spoke and Nick tried to defend himself, “SHIELD had nothing to do with this!” The man grumbled.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends” Steve spoke firmly, “SHIELDS been compromised you said so yourself, HYDRA grew under your nose and you didn’t even notice” his brows furrowed and eyes cold.

“why do you think we’re meeting in a cave, i noticed” Nick shot back, you shook your head in disbelief.

“how many paid the price before you did?” You quipped, thinking about your soulmate, where was he? what would happen to him?

“I didn’t know about barnes” Nick softened, looking at Steve, the blonde rolled his eyes.

“even if you did would you have told me about it? Or would you compartmentalize that too” he scoffed, you bit your bottom lip in frustration.

“HYDRA, SHIELD, it all goes” you stated firmly, eyes set on fury, he looked around at the others.

“they’re right” Maria sighed.

You stood atop the dam, the sound of the wind rustling the trees calmed you down, you focused on one of the flashes you had seen when you touched bucky.

“You set this all up for little ol’ me?” You teased, bucky rolling his eyes with a smile on his face, taking your hand in his and leading you to the middle of the meadow he had found.

“only the best for my sweets” he replied, shooting a wink at you and you blushed slightly, the cool wind hitting your flushed skin.

“oh wow you even got us a little cake? went all out did you barnes” you teased and he smiled, letting a soft groan out.

“can you please stop laughing at me for five minutes” he pouted, and you smiled at him softly, sitting on the blanket and pulling his down with you, kissing the pout on his lips.

“i love it angel” you mumbled, kissing his lips softly before pulling away and reaching into the basket, pulling out the sandwiches and handing one to bucky along with a drink.

“found it the other day, thought you would like to watch the sunset from here instead of that old park” he spoke, taking a sip from the water bottle you handed him and your heart fluttered in your chest.

“i love you so much James” you mumbled, leaning over and peppering kisses all over his face, a smile on his lips as he soaked in all your loving.

You giggled as he moved over, picking you up with ease and spinning you around. Bucky set you down gently, you rested your head on his shoulder as you marveled at the sun setting, pinks and reds painting the sky, golden rays hitting the two of you.

“you know I’m yours forever, right doll?” Bucky mumbled, his head in your lap as you played with his hair. You smiled sweetly at him, nodding your head.

“and I’m yours forever and more lovebug” you replied.

“He’s gonna be there, you know” Sam spoke, causing you to jump slightly. Steve walked next to him, the two men approaching you.

“I know” you nodded.

“whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, he’s not the kind you save, he’s the kind you stop” Sam spoke, Steve standing next to you as Sam looked at the two of you.

“i don’t know if we can do that” Steve spoke for the two of you, Sam looked at you softly. Your eyes meeting and you gave him a small smile.

“he might not give you a choice” he whispered, you shook your head as he continued, “he doesn’t know you.”

“he has to, he has to remember me, I’m his soulmate” you spoke, eyes welling up with tears once more.

“gear up, it’s time” Steve spoke gently.

Your hands shook softly as you changed, taking in a deep breath as you fell into line with Maria, Sam and Steve, walking towards SHIELD.

“excuse us” you smiled as the man opened the door to the control center, moving out of your way quickly when he saw Maria and Sams guns, “alrighty star spangled man, your time to shine” you smiled, patting him on the back.

Steve began his speech, a proud smile on your face as he spoke, feeling the shift in the air, your heart thumping against your rib cage.

“did you write that down first? Or was it off the top of you head” Sam smiled and you laughed softly.

The sirens blared and you heard the echoes of gunshots, “they’re initiating launch” Maria spoke in your ear, you jogged next to Sam and Steve.

“how do we know the good guys from the bad guys?” Sam questioned.

“if they’re shooting at you they’re bad” you replied, Steve smiling before the two of you hopped down and fought the men on the airstrips.

You were in a whirl of punches and gunshots, throwing your knives and taking down men to help Steve get to the helicarriers.

Steve ran from behind you, the two of you running to put in the cartridge, “alpha lock!” You spoke, you and Steve running to leave the carrier. Sam calling out “bravo lock!” Not long after.

You took down a couple guards, hitching a ride with a pilot and Steve counting on sam to get him to the other helicarrier.

You ran out as soon as you could, blood running cold as you recognized the metal arm grabbing sams wing.

You froze as he tore the wing off, kicking him off the side, eyes wide you ran out, “Sam!” You cried out, panic filling your chest.

“I’m fine, I’m just grounded, I’m sorry guys” he apologized and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m still on the helicarrier, i got it” Steve spoke and you felt relief knowing he was safe.

“I’ll come down and help you” you spoke, turning around and coming face to face with three men. You groaned in annoyance as they approached you, moving quickly to take one of their guns, knocking them out with the butt. Using another one as a shield before kicking him off you and into the other man.

“Y/n no! Wait on my signal, he’s here and- we just need to wait for the right moment” Steve spoke, out of breath as he spoke. You hesitated, watching bucky run to beat Steve.

“okay” you spoke softly, doing what you could to make sure it was only steve and bucky in the helicarrier.

It felt like an eternity until Steve finally called for you, breathless. “Y/n get down here!” You ran quickly, maneuvering your way down and seeing the two men fighting.

“take it!” Steve yelled, bucky laying on the floor next to him, you nodded, running up to him as his tossed it to you, catching it before taking off again.

You felt the bullet whirl next to your head, he was shooting at you. Your stomach fell as you realized, running faster. You heard Steve groan, falling next to you.

“Steve!” You cried out, stopping before realizing you had mere seconds left. You saw the blood through his suit, biting your lip before taking off, hurrying to put in the cartridge, rushing to help Steve up.

“Charlie lock!” You cried out, putting his weight on your shoulder, struggling to carry him.

“get out of there!” Maria called, you looked at Steve, his eyes telling you all you needed to know, you nodded softly.

“fire now” Steve spoke, Maria began to argue but you cut her off, “do it!” You commanded, losing your balance as the helicarriers shot at each other.

Bucky’s groan caught your attention, your heart breaking as you saw he was trapped under a piece of metal. Without hesitation you and Steve jumped down, lifting the metal between the two of you.

“it’s gonna be okay” you whispered, moving to reach out only for the helicarrier to decline sharply, causing you to slip away, inches from his hand.

You grasped onto a ledge, steadying yourself and attempting to get back to the two super soldiers, the constant explosions making it difficult.

Bucky punched Steve, fear in his eyes as they spoke, you ran to them, continuously getting knocked over by the crashes.

“I’m not gonna fight you, you’re my friend” you heard Steve say, dropping the shield as bucky tackled him.

“you’re my mission!” Bucky spoke, anger in his eyes.

You leaped, tackling Bucky off of Steve, flashes of your future in both of your eyes.

“y/n!” Steve cried out.

“no wait pull over!” You cried out, eyes focusing on a box you had passed on the highway, bucky furrowed his brows in confusion.

“doll it’s raining it’s just a box” he slowed down, pulling over anyway.

“no there were cats!” you squealed, unlocking your door quickly and running out of the car, the rain immediately drenching you to the bone. Bucky cursed softly as you ran out without your jacket, following you quickly. His eyes landing on the two cats in your arms.

“told you so” you teased, motioning for him to grab the other two from the box. Bucky grabbed them quickly, running to your car and setting them on your lap, wrapping them in your jacket and trying to warm them up.

You arrived at the shelter quickly, heart aching as they took the four kittens from you. The small white one mewling and sinking his claws into your shirt, you smiled softly before taking his claws out of the fabric, handing him to a vet.

“We’ll call you when we’re done with all the tests and diagnostics” the woman smiled kindly and you nodded, bucky slipping his hand into your easily and you leaned into his warmth.

You were cuddled up next to bucky on the couch, head on his chest and watching one of your favorite shows.

“doll?” Bucky called out, moving you gently and you got up from his chest.

“sorry, I’m just worried about the kittens is all” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip, bucky let out a breath before pulling you into his lap.

“that white one really liked you” he chuckled and you nodded, a smile on your face as you remembered the way he didn’t want to leave you.

“almost as much as you do huh” you teased and bucky laughed, shaking his head at your statement.

“no one can love you as much as i do dollface” he replied, his face serious before breaking into a smile as you rolled your eyes. You moved to get off his lap but he stopped you.

“why don’t we keep him” he smiled, nervous as he proposed the idea to you, “you could use some company when i go away for missions and I’ve always wanted a cat, and plus statistics say people are happier with pets-” bucky rambled.

“yes! oh my god finally! I’m so excited” you cheered, jumping of the couch and hopping around, a smile on your face as you turned to look at bucky.

Bucky smiled as you sat back down, leaning in to kiss him softly, a smile on both of your faces. “Should name him alpine” Bucky suggested a smile on his face as you nodded.

Bucky went overboard on toys and treats, his arms full as he set the bags down, a smile on his face as you finished kitten proofing the apartment.

“James! You didn’t need to get that much” you spoke shocked at the amount of things he got for your new kitten.

“this is our son we are talking about, he deserves the world” bucky scoffed, fixing the bags and putting everything away, the two of you excited to pick up your new child.

The two of you played with alpine for hours when he got home, giggles filling the apartment as you observed his antics. The three of you curled up on the couch, alpine asleep in your lap as bucky had his arm around you, some documentary playing.

“i love our family” you smiled, looking at bucky and kissing his jaw softly. He smiled at you as you pulled away, laying your head on his chest again.

“i love it too sweets” his heart was melting at the sight of you, cozy in his arms with the kitten in your lap.

“I’m yours forever bucky” you whispered, eyes closing as exhausting took over, his heart fluttered.

“I’m yours forever y/n” he replied, a smile on his face as the words left his lips.

Buckys eyes widened as the scenario played out in his eyes, you looked at him, a small smile on your face.

“it’s you” he whispered, a small smile forming on his face.

“it’s me, forever” you mumbled, moving to sit up and hug him.

Before you could, debris broke the glass you were laying on, your reflexes not quick enough to hold onto something, causing you to fall into the water, fear in Buckys eyes.

Both him and Steve dove in after you, bucky reaching you before his friend and pulling you out frantically. Steve helped drag you to shore, shaking you before giving you CPR.

You coughed up water, rolling around before your vision cleared, a smile on your face as you saw Steve, wrapping your arms around him.

“wheres bucky?” You questioned, heart sinking as you searched for the metal armed man.

“i- he was just here” Steve spoke, looking around, panic in his eyes.

Within moments Maria, Natasha and Sam found the two of you, rushing you to a hospital, treating all your wounds and any broken bones. Falling asleep moments after with Sam watching over both you and Steve.

It had been close to a month since SHIELD fell, since you last saw bucky. You woke up to knocking on your door, your eyes bleary as you checked the time, 7:34 am.

You groaned and forced yourself out of bed, “who needs something at 7 am on a Saturday!” You called out, angrily opening the door. Your anger sizzled away within seconds, you eyes meeting the baby blue ones you had only seen for moments at a time.

“Bucky” you whispered, your wind had been knocked out of you as you saw your soulmate on the other side of the door.

“hi doll” he smiled softly, his eyes brighter as he looked at you.

-

tag list !

@felicityofbakerstreet @newyork47 @classygirlything @ebxny27 @hhaydenn @miaangel24 @shawnie--jo @quinnmaddie @mugscraps