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eu-nicola · 18 days ago

Text

children's fight

summary: your disdain for Lando was no secret. You didn’t hate him, but there was something about him that you just couldn’t stand.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 5282

author's note: english is not my first language

Formula 1 had always been more than a hobby for you; it was a passion, an obsession. You had grown up watching races, studying statistics and learning every detail of the circuits. However, it wasn’t just the sport that fascinated you, but the drivers. And for you, Max Verstappen was the best. His talent, his relentless determination and his ability to handle any situation on the track had made him your favourite since he joined the grid. So, when the current season became a tug-of-war between Max and Lando Norris, there was no question about which side you were on.

Your disdain for Lando was no secret. You didn’t hate him, but there was something about him that you just couldn’t stand. His arrogant attitude whenever things didn’t go his way, his constant need for attention and his immaturity were unbearable to you. And even more so now, when he acted like he was on Max’s level, when, in your eyes, he wasn’t. He was a good driver, sure, but he didn’t have the mentality or experience to win a championship. That frustrated you, especially since every time he lost, he complained instead of accepting that he still had some way to go.

One day, thanks to your “job” (it was more of an internship) as a freelance sports journalist, you had the chance to attend a private event for Formula 1 media in Monaco. It was an intimate dinner with several drivers and some sponsors, a sort of social pre-season that promised exclusive access to the stars of motorsport. You couldn’t believe it when you received the invitation. Although you had covered races before, you had never been so close to the drivers in such a relaxed atmosphere.

The evening started well. You met up with other well-known journalists, shared a couple of glasses of wine and spoke to some members of the technical teams. Everything seemed perfect, until you saw him. Lando Norris.

He was surrounded by a small group of people, talking and laughing as if he owned the room. From afar, his voice rang out with a carefree tone that others found charming, but to you it sounded condescending. His wide gestures and constant laughter reminded you exactly why you weren’t a fan of him.

You decided to ignore him and continue enjoying the night, but fate had other plans. During dinner, you were assigned a spot right in front of him at the head table. You tried to remain professional, even though the situation made you uncomfortable.

“And you?” Lando asked after a while, addressing you directly as he smiled with overflowing confidence. “Do you have a favorite pilot, or are you one of those who say you love them all equally?”

The comment, while seemingly harmless, made you roll your eyes internally. You had heard other journalists succumb to his charm, but you weren’t going to fall for it.

“I have one, yes,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but direct. “Max Verstappen.”

For a second, Lando’s smile faltered, then came back stronger.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, leaning forward with a curious look. “Interesting choice. Why him?”

You took a deep breath before answering, trying to stay calm.

“He’s the most complete driver I’ve seen in years. His ability to adapt to any situation on the track is impressive, and he doesn’t give up no matter the circumstances.”

“And you think I can’t do that?” Lando replied, raising an eyebrow. Although he was still smiling, there was a defiant tone in his tone.

“I think you still have a lot to prove,” you replied bluntly, feeling the atmosphere at the table tense slightly.

Lando laughed, but this time his laugh sounded somewhat forced.

“Wow, straight to the point. This year will be different.” I’m ready to prove that I have what it takes to win.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you took a sip from your wine glass, watching him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. You knew you could have been more diplomatic, but there was something about him that just pushed you to confront him.

The conversation turned to other topics, but the initial exchange hung in the air like a charged cloud of electricity.

Dinner continued, but the tension between you and Lando was undeniable. Every time he spoke or laughed, you felt your nerves fray. His voice seemed to boom louder than anyone else’s at the table, as if he was deliberately trying to get everyone’s attention. The worst part was that it worked. Every comment he made drew laughter and nods from everyone else, which only made your irritation grow.

You tried to focus on the conversation with the person sitting to your right, a journalist you'd known for a while, but every few minutes you found yourself glancing at Lando. It wasn't a look of curiosity, but of analysis. You wanted to understand what everyone saw in him, why he found it so easy to charm others while you found him so insufferable.

Of course, Lando was quick to notice your glances, and every time he did, he responded with a smile that seemed designed to provoke you. It was the kind of smile that said: I know you don't like me, but I don't care.

The rest of the dinner passed in a mix of awkward and disdainful glances. Every time your eyes met Lando's, it seemed like the two of you were fighting some kind of silent battle. He kept smiling with that carefree air, while you kept a neutral expression that perfectly hid the irritation you felt inside.

When dessert was finally served, you were counting down the minutes until the evening was over. But just when you thought you could escape without any more confrontation, Lando stood up and walked around the table, stopping right next to you.

“It’s been interesting meeting you,” he said with that smile that now seemed permanent on his face. “I hope you enjoy following my season as much as you enjoy following Max’s.”

His tone was light, but the challenge in his words was clear. Before you could respond, he had already walked away.

The next day dawned with a fresh and promising air. You had a busy schedule: interviews with some of the best drivers on the grid at one of the most important promotional events before the start of the season. Although you knew it would be an exhausting day, you were also looking forward to it. Talking to drivers, hearing their perspectives, and writing about them was one of the reasons you loved your job.

The morning started off calmly. You arrived early, dressed in a smart but functional outfit, with a notepad in hand and a professional smile on your face. The interview room was decorated with the logos of the teams and sponsors, and a row of cameras and lights was already ready to capture every word of the drivers.

The first interviews went smoothly. You spoke to George Russell, who always had a calm and polite charisma. Then to Carlos Sainz, who never failed to make you laugh with his anecdotes. Even Charles Leclerc, with his easy-going charm, made you feel comfortable. Everything was going well. You were professional, respectful, and although you weren't a fan of all the drivers, you knew how to maintain the balance between admiration and objective analysis.

But you knew that eventually you would have to interview Lando Norris. And, to be honest, you were dreading it.

When the time came, you saw Lando approach the small area where you conducted your interviews. He was dressed in his McLaren uniform, his hair perfectly messy and a relaxed smile on his face. From afar, he seemed unconcerned, but when his eyes met yours, you noticed a flash of recognition. He knew this wasn’t going to be just any interview.

“Hi,” he greeted, extending his hand to you with professionalism. “Ready when you are.”

You took a deep breath, accepted his handshake, and nodded. You decided to approach the interview as usual: direct, objective, and with questions that went beyond the standard answers.

“Lando, this season promises to be one of the most competitive in recent years. Considering your progress in the last few races, how are you preparing to stay consistent in the fight against more experienced drivers?”

His smile didn’t falter.

“Good question,” he said, leaning forward slightly as he answered confidently. “I think the key is to keep a cool head and trust the work we’ve done as a team. At the end of the day, it all comes down to who can take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves.”

The conversation flowed naturally, though you could sense a slight tension in the air. Lando was adept at answering, but it was also evident that he was measuring each word, as if he was making sure not to give you cause to criticize him further. You, for your part, remained neutral, asking pointed questions and avoiding any comments that could be interpreted as personal.

Towards the end of the interview, you decided to broach the subject of your rivalry with Max.

“Speaking of taking advantage of opportunities, your battle with Max Verstappen last season was one of the most talked about. How do you describe that dynamic?”

Lando held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary before answering.

“Max is a great driver, that is not up for discussion,” he replied, keeping his tone casual. “But I think this year will show who is really ready to fight for a championship. I am ready for that challenge, and I have no doubt that I can compete at the same level.”

“Interesting,” you commented, taking note of his response. But something in his tone made you purse your lips, as if he were issuing a veiled challenge, not only to Max, but to you as well.

The interview ended with a handshake and an exchange of tense smiles. From the outside, anyone would have thought that the two of you had been completely professional. And, technically, they had been. But inside, you knew the spark of disagreement was still alive.

The off-camera confrontation

Later, as you reviewed your notes and waited your turn for the next interview, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Are you always this harsh in your interviews or just with me?” Lando asked, his tone light but with a challenging undertone.

You turned your head towards him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m doing my job. If I seem harsh to you, maybe you should review how you respond.”

Lando let out a soft laugh, leaning slightly towards you.

“I think what’s really going on is that you can’t stand the fact that you don’t like me.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your cool.

“It has nothing to do with that. I’m not here to like you or not, Lando. I’m here to do my job, and I think I did a pretty good job.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he replied, his smile fading slightly as he studied you intently. “But don’t pretend that I don’t bother you. It’s obvious. I saw it last night, and I see it now.”

His bluntness took you by surprise, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you held his gaze.

“If you’re so worried about what I think, maybe you should focus more on proving what you say on the track.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but then he smiled again, this time with something more genuine, as if your answer had amused him.

“You know what?” “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this year,” he said before turning and walking away, leaving you with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place.

Later, when the interviews started being posted as teasers on social media, you thought you could relax for a while. You’d done a good job: professional, direct, and not letting your personal opinions creep into your questions. At least, that’s what you thought.

You were in your hotel room, reviewing your notes for the article you’d be publishing the next day. Meanwhile, your phone was constantly buzzing with notifications. You decided to ignore them at first, assuming they were just alerts for posts related to the day’s event. But when the sound became incessant, something inside you told you to take a look.

You unlocked your phone, and as soon as you opened Instagram, your worst fears were confirmed. There was a featured video on the event’s official account: your interview with Lando Norris. The clip, though brief, perfectly captured the tensions you had tried to conceal.

“Lando Norris: ‘I think this year will see who is really ready to challenge for a championship.’”

The camera then panned to you, raising an eyebrow and responding with a neutral but firm:

“Interesting.”

There was nothing inherently out of place in the exchange, but the comments told another story.

—Is it just me or is there tension between them?

—The way she looks at him… ugh, that’s pure disdain.

—What if there’s something else behind this? 👀

—She’s clearly not a Lando fan. #TeamMax.

—This feels like the beginning of a rom-com, but with cars.

You frowned, scrolling through the comments. There were dozens of memes accompanying screenshots of the video. On Twitter, things weren’t any better.

One user had posted:

“Her: ‘I’m completely professional.’ Also her: throws an invisible dagger at Lando with her eyes.”

The tweet was accompanied by a picture of you crossing your arms during the interview while Lando answered one of your questions.

Another said:

“The tension is so thick you could cut it with a rear spoiler.”

Though you tried hard not to let it affect you, a mix of embarrassment and frustration began to settle in your chest. You hadn't done anything wrong. You'd kept your composure, you'd been professional... or had you? You began to doubt yourself. Maybe your dislike for Lando had been more apparent than you thought.

The final straw was a meme someone had made with a picture of Lando smiling nonchalantly and a screenshot of you looking at him with a slightly skeptical expression. The caption read:

“Her: ‘I'm impartial.’

Also her: ‘Max > Lando any day.’

You couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, even though you weren't amused by the situation.

The Unexpected Message

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, your phone vibrated again, but this time it was a direct message on Instagram. It was from someone you weren't expecting.

Lando Norris:

“Looks like we're trending. Did you plan this too, or am I just the one who knows how to get everyone's attention?”

You felt a rush of heat rise up your neck. This boy's audacity knew no bounds. You took a deep breath before replying:

You:

"Don't blame me for other people's interpretations."

The reply was not long in coming.

Lando Norris:

"Looks like you and I make a good team when it comes to talking heads. Maybe we should take advantage of it.”

You pursed your lips, deliberating whether to continue or leave it on read. But something about his message made you feel like this “rivalry” wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Between the memes, the comments, and Lando’s brashness, you knew this story was just beginning.

You put your phone away with a sigh, but the feeling of unease didn’t go away. Now you not only had to deal with your animosity towards Lando, but also with the fact that the entire world seemed to enjoy watching them go at each other. And the worst part of all? Lando seemed to be enjoying it more than anyone else.

The days following the social media controversy were strange, as if you were navigating in a limbo between unwanted attention and trying to get back to your routine. You decided to stay as far away from the public eye as possible. Although you still fulfilled your responsibilities, you were very careful in choosing how and when to participate. You made sure to delegate trackside interviews to your peers and limit your interaction with the drivers to a minimum. essential.

After the race, when it was time to travel to the next venue, your strategy remained: low profile. The paddock, normally vibrant with conversations, interviews and the energy that a new race brings, became a place where you moved with calculated precision. You appeared only when absolutely necessary: at official photo shoots, on TV broadcasts, and always with a perfectly practiced smile.

You focused on other parts of your job, immersing yourself in writing articles, checking statistics and contributing behind the scenes. Moments of visibility were strategic, just enough to fulfil your responsibilities and avoid any unnecessary encounters. This involved coordinating with your colleagues to take on interviews with specific drivers. And, of course, among those names was always Lando Norris.

Despite your efforts to remain invisible to him, the paddock was a small place, and it wasn't always possible to avoid crossing paths with certain people. When this happened, you forced yourself to maintain your composure. You walked past him with your head held high, as if you hadn't seen him. You walked confidently, not allowing any flicker of discomfort to show on your face. But there was always that feeling, as if you felt his gaze briefly on you.

Lando, for his part, seemed busy with his own thing. He was immersed in his work, fulfilling his own commitments: meetings with the team, interviews with the press, promotional events. From the outside, he seemed completely focused on his world, almost as if the tension between you had never existed. You barely noticed any reaction from him, and that bothered you more than you were willing to admit.

There were fleeting moments, though. When you walked across the paddock with your notes in hand or passed him in the hospitality halls, you could feel his eyes on you for an instant. It wasn’t a lingering, inquisitive glance, more of a casual glance, as if he recognized you and then went on with his business.

Days turned into weeks, and the dynamic continued the same. You were both in the same place, but walking different paths. You avoided any direct interaction, and he, apparently, had no interest in seeking it out. However, social media remained attentive. Every time a photo from the paddock showed the two of you in the same place, even if it was meters away, the comments would come:

—“Look, there they are again! Is it a coincidence?”

—“They don’t interact, but I bet there’s some tension in the air.”

—“Lando seems indifferent, but she looks so serious. I’m intrigued by all this.”

Even though you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t help but see the posts. The speculations never stopped, but you remained firm in your decision not to let this interfere with your work.

For his part, Lando continued to move forward with his life in the paddock. His focus was on racing, media, and strategies to stay competitive. If he thought about you, he didn’t show it openly. But at times, when he was sitting in the hospitality area reviewing data or preparing for an interview, his mind wandered. He remembered the exchange of glances, the interview that had become a trend, and those brief moments when he saw you passing by. However, those thoughts were fleeting; he quickly dismissed them and returned to focusing on his work.

Despite your best efforts to stay under the radar and avoid Lando Norris, fate – or perhaps the small size of the paddock – seemed hell-bent on crossing paths with you. Grand Prix days became an awkward dance between keeping up appearances and trying not to explode in frustration. And, to be fair, Lando did nothing to make things better.

The issues started small, barely noticeable, but over time, the friction became more and more apparent, both to you and to those around you.

It all started with a seemingly insignificant moment at a press conference. You were sitting among the journalists, ready to take notes and prepare intelligent questions for various drivers. Lando was on the panel that day alongside Max and two other drivers. When it was your turn to ask, you asked a simple but direct question about his qualifying performance – completely standard fare.

The way Lando answered, however, made it clear: he wasn’t interested in being cooperative with you.

His answers were short, almost cutting, and his tone, though not explicitly hostile, had a hint of mockery. When he finished answering, he sketched an almost imperceptible smile, as if he knew exactly how he was affecting you. Some journalists exchanged glances, surprised by the exchange. You, with an impassive face, continued writing in your notebook as if nothing had happened.

However, in the hallways later, you heard one of your colleagues whisper:

—It seems that Lando has something personal with her.

The next brush came during a recording for a special program. You were in a small dressing room preparing your presentation when Lando burst in unannounced. He was wearing his team uniform and seemed to be looking for something.

“Excuse me, is this yours?.” he asked dryly, holding a wireless microphone that someone had left there.

Before you could answer, he added:

“Oh, right, you probably just need a pen and a notebook.”

You froze for a second, processing the sentence. Although it wasn't necessarily an insult, the tone was clearly meant to belittle you.

"Not all of us need a car to feel important, Norris," you finally said, with a tight smile, as you walked past him to leave the dressing room.

It was an impulsive comment, but the expression on his face was reward enough. However, the incident made it clear that neither of you were willing to take a step back.

The friction began to be noticed in public as well. When you walked through the paddock and passed by Lando, you couldn't help but feel his gaze fixed on you, even if it was only for a second. You did the same, a kind of silent challenge. They weren't neutral glances; they were loaded with tension, with something deeper than simple antipathy.

There were times when he made sure to occupy strategic spaces, as if he were looking to make you uncomfortable. If you were in the McLaren team hospitality to interview an engineer or driver, Lando would casually wander over, interrupting the conversation with unnecessary comments or jokes that weren’t quite jokes.

When this happened, you kept your composure as best you could, but your answers were always just as sharp. The atmosphere became so awkward that even other team members noticed the dynamic and were quick to jump in.

The final straw came during a charity event organized by Formula 1. You were assigned to cover the event, and Lando was one of the featured drivers. At one point in the show, while the drivers were participating in a trivia game, someone mentioned the incident on social media that had made them trending weeks earlier.

Lando didn’t pass up the opportunity to make a comment:

“Well, it seems I have a talent for bringing out the best in people, even when they don’t get along with me.”

The audience laughed immediately, but you felt the ground fall out from under your feet. Although his tone was seemingly light, the hint was clear.

Later, when the event was over, you approached the press officer and asked to change assignments to avoid covering any segment where Lando was involved. However, you knew it wouldn't be easy. The tension between you two was no longer a secret, and the more you tried to avoid it, the more it seemed like the universe was conspiring to keep you two crossing paths.

Despite the issues, neither of you were willing to back down. The relationship between you was like a rope stretched to the limit, ready to snap at any moment.

The tension between you and Lando had reached such an absurd point that, to any outside observer, it looked more like a schoolyard fight than a professional dispute between two adults. Although you both had legitimate reasons for your mutual displeasure, the way you handled the situation was anything but mature.

With those little passive-aggressive acts that seemed straight out of the angry child's handbook.

Things between you and Lando were far from calming down. The taunts and teases kept piling up like a snowball, and even though you tried to ignore it, there was something about him that you couldn't help but hate... and at the same time, something that pushed you to challenge him. But after that last race, things took a different turn.

It was an exciting race, one that kept everyone on the edge of their seats. Lando had won, and the paddock was in a party mood. Teams, drivers, media, and even sponsors gathered at a fancy club to celebrate. Although you weren’t particularly a fan of such gatherings, attending was part of your job, so you got ready, picked out a dress that was stylish enough but comfortable, and headed to the event.

The club was packed, with dim lights and vibrant music filling the air. Drivers and team members toasted the day’s achievements, while others immersed themselves in lively conversations or danced carefree. The energy was contagious, and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax.

You were chatting with a couple of colleagues when you noticed Lando walk in. His presence was unmistakable: he walked with that confidence that used to irritate you, surrounded by some of his team members and other drivers who congratulated him effusively. He wore a dark shirt, unbuttoned just enough to look comfortable but effortless, and his winning smile was so wide it almost seemed to dare anyone to question him.

Your eyes met for a brief moment. You looked away quickly, determined not to ruin your evening by thinking about him.

As the evening progressed, a man approached you. He was one of the marketing guys for a team, someone you had exchanged words with at previous events. Tall, pleasant-looking, and clearly interested in you, he began to chat with you in a friendly manner.

The talk was light, but interesting. He asked questions about your job, joked about the tensions of the paddock, and made you laugh with witty comments. Although you weren’t looking for anything romantic, you enjoyed the attention. There was nothing wrong with letting yourself get carried away in the moment after stress-filled weeks.

Without realizing it, the distance between you shortened. The man leaned in toward you as he spoke, and you responded with animated nods. From the outside, anyone might have thought there was more than just conversation going on.

Lando was leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand and surrounded by a few friends. From where he stood, he had a clear view of you and the man you were talking to. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it; after all, it wasn't his business. But, as the minutes passed and he saw you laughing and looking at him, something inside him began to boil.

The feeling was annoying, almost irrational. He didn't understand why he cared, but he couldn't help but feel a slight tingle of irritation at seeing you so comfortable with someone else. It wasn't jealousy, or at least that's what he told himself. It was… what? Frustration? Spite? Whatever it was, it wouldn't leave him alone.

He decided to ignore it, taking a long drink from his drink and returning to his conversation. But every time he saw you from the corner of his eye, his concentration evaporated.

At some point, you decided to move to the bar to order a drink, and the man followed you. As you waited for your drink, you felt a presence beside you. You turned, and there was Lando, leaning against the bar with his typical relaxed expression, though his eyes seemed darker than usual.

He didn’t say anything, but the air between you immediately tensed. His eyes briefly rested on the man next to you before returning to you, assessing you.

Though no words were exchanged, the message was clear: he didn’t like what he was seeing. His jaw was slightly clenched, and his fingers drummed against the bar as if he were trying to hold something back. You, far from being intimidated, lifted your chin and held his gaze.

When you received your drink, you turned to the man and resumed the conversation as if Lando wasn’t there, although you felt his eyes burning into your back.

A little while later, you were on the dance floor with some friends. The music was lively enough to relax you, and although you weren’t the best dancer, you were enjoying the moment. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself facing Lando.

There was something in his expression that seemed challenging, as if he were testing you. He looked you straight in the eyes and bluntly extended his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew exactly what he was doing.

“No.” Was your dry, unwavering response.

The rejection seemed to surprise him, though he tried not to show it. A slight smile formed on his face, as if he were mocking your refusal, but there was a glint in his eyes that betrayed his irritation.

Without another word, Lando lowered his hand and turned around, returning to the bar. You went back to dancing, though you couldn't ignore the feeling that his eyes were still fixed on you from a distance.

Later, while you were dancing with some friends, you noticed him again. This time, he was in the center of a group, laughing and joking, but somehow he always ended up in your line of vision. It was as if he was making sure you saw him enjoying himself.

And you noticed. You knew he was upset, and you couldn't deny that it gave you a certain satisfaction. Maybe you even exaggerated your attitude towards the man a little, leaning towards him and smiling more than necessary. If Lando wanted to play, so could you.

The game continued for the rest of the night, a silent war that neither of you was willing to give in to. There were no words, but the looks and gestures said more than either of you were willing to admit.

When the party ended, you left feeling like you had won, though you knew Lando wouldn’t let this go easily. For his part, he was left with a mix of irritation and confusion, wondering why you let yourself be affected by him so much… and why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1

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merakiui · 10 months ago

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maybe, i'm afraid.

azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: slight angst, nsfw, azul bottles his feelings and is insecure note - happy birthday to my favorite tako in the whole world. <3 may you have wonderful days forever!! // loosely inspired by lovelytheband's "maybe, i'm afraid."

i. spring - dancing in your party dress, you were singing me some frank sinatra as you wept. pull me close enough. it seems like we lost touch, so hold me as the record skips.

“Can you believe we’re gonna be fourth years?!” Kalim exclaims with wide, sparkling eyes. They look like twin garnets set into his face—polished jewels having caught the aquatic illumination from Mostro Lounge’s aquarium. “Time really does fly, huh!”

“Feels like yesterday,” Ruggie agrees around a mouthful of food. His plate is stacked as high as it can possibly get, piled with contrasting flavors. “Pretty crazy to think we’re all gonna be heading off in different directions soon.”

Jade nods. “Our school lives are as fun as they are fleeting.”

An odd quiet falls over the three of them, which is soon broken when Floyd drapes himself over the booth. He leans down to swipe a sliver from Jade’s plate. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Ah. S’bout that time, ain’t it? Gettin’ sentimental in the spring.”

“Makes sense. The semester’s ending and people are starting up their internships or going home. Really makes you think…”

Ruggie gazes at the group huddled near the bar. Riddle, Jamil, and a half-awake Silver chat alongside you and Azul. You seem to be in the middle of a riveting story, for your arms gesticulate wildly. Azul looks on with what Ruggie thinks is the most mushy-gushy, ooey-gooey smile he’s ever seen.

“We’re gonna come back in the winter, aren’t we?” Kalim asks, tilting his head.

“Indeed. For the cultural festival.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be fun to see you guys after so much time apart. Oh, we should all keep in touch! That way it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.”

“Perhaps not for us.” Jade follows Ruggie’s line of sight, landing on one person in particular. “For others, the gap is cavernous.”

“What do you mean, Jade?”

Floyd catches on then. “S’not our fault he’s not sayin’ anything.”

Ruggie shrugs. “It doesn’t concern me.” He pops up from his spot in the booth, grinning. “It’s been great and all, but I’ve gotta get my fill. Wouldn’t be right for a guy to skimp out when it’s Azul hosting.”

Giggling, Floyd waves him off. “You do that, Sharksucker.”

Kalim turns to the twins, brows raised. “You’re talking about Azul?”

“He’s been swept up in Shrimpy ever since. It’s been—how long now?—about two years or something.”

“Oh.” Kalim blinks back at him, slow on the uptake. And then, seconds later, it hits him. “Ohhh! He likes (Name)!”

“There ya go.”

“I’m afraid he’s yet to confess,” Jade adds around a bite of cake. “You should see the plans he’s drafted. Dozens of them, in fact. Each one is… Oh, perhaps I’ve said too much already.”

“I don’t get it. If he likes (Name) so much, why wouldn’t he just confess? Why make plans?”

“Wow, Sea Otter, you don’t play when it comes to feelings, do ya?”

“If it was me, I’d want everyone to know how much I care about someone.” To demonstrate this point, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “You’re the best, (Name)!”

You glance past a now wide-awake Silver at the twins and Kalim. Mirroring his actions, you reply in a giggly voice, “Thanks! You’re great, too, Kalim!”

Beaming, he says, “See? It’s not so difficult. If Azul needs any help, I’d be happy to—”

Floyd throws his head back and cackles like a madman. “Not so difficult for you!”

Jade masks his amusement behind a gloved fist. “My, my. I think I’ve just witnessed the very soul drain from Azul’s eyes. You have quite the talent, Kalim.”

Kalim doesn’t hear the underlying meaning or the backhanded barb in his statement. “He’s got time, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what he keeps saying. But deep down he knows.” Floyd watches Azul hurry to recover his composure before anyone can notice. “He’s leaving for his internship after school’s over and then graduation’s next spring. He’s running out of time.”

“Does (Name) like him? Maybe she’ll confess before he does!”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t know what Shrimpy feels for him. Been driving himself crazy all school year tryin’ to figure that one out.”

“I suspect he’s grown excessively cautious as a result of his fear of rejection,” Jade explains, dragging his fork through the buttercream smeared on his plate.

“But if he confesses now and she doesn’t feel the same, he’ll have all summer to recover.” Kalim turns his stare on you next. “(Name)’s always been nice. I’m sure she wouldn’t shatter his heart.”

“When you’re Azul, even the tiniest push is enough.”

“Really? But he’s always so strong!”

Jade hums. “Three hearts are quite the boon-burden.”

“Only makes lovin’ someone that much worse. Cuz then you’re lovin’ ’em three times as much.”

“Isn’t that good? I think it’s sweet Azul cares about (Name) so much.”

“Sweet…” Jade shares a look with Floyd. Something unspoken passes between them. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Azul thinks it’s a pain in the ass. Throws him off his course and he loooves bein’ on his course.”

Kalim stares a moment longer. “Maybe he needs a push in the right direction.”

“Liquid courage works wonders—”

“—or gives way to woe.”

“Nothing like that.” He doesn’t elaborate further, instead getting up and padding over to the bar with a cheerful bounce in his steps. “Hey, everyone, let’s take a picture!”

Riddle welcomes him with a warm smile. “Ah, hello there, Kalim.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jamil comments, arms folding across his chest. Which, arguably, is worse because it can only spell trouble should Kalim find himself inspired.

“Way ahead of you!” You hold your Ghost Camera up, turning the lens on Kalim. Lighting up like the very sun in the sky, he poses just as you snap a photo. It takes a few moments for it to develop, but once it does you hand it over to him for his perusal. “Looking good as always.”

“Aww, thanks! Okay, your turn next! Let’s get a big group photo and then individual photos.” With the camera now in his possession, Kalim’s free to fidget with it as he pleases. “Ooh, this is neat!”

“Careful with that!” Jamil bounds forward just in case. “The Headmage gave that to (Name). Don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Kalim promises, holding it up to capture you and Jamil in its sight. “I think I’ve got it! Everyone, group up! Picture time!”

There’s lots of fumbling. An argument about height breaks out. Floyd pokes fun at Riddle for having to stand in front to account for his height. Riddle fumes, red with anger, and stomps his foot indignantly—all while insisting he’s still growing. You offer to stand beside him, but he hisses at you like a cat: “Don’t patronize me! I’m of perfect, healthy stature for someone my age!”

Kalim looks on from behind the camera. “Actually, can we get (Name) and Azul together first?”

Azul, who had been in the process of adding to the joke with a comment of his own, hesitates. He peers at Kalim, his walls rising. “Me?”

“Yeah! Only fair to put you front and center. You’re the host, after all!”

“Ah, right. Of course. But then—”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. “If anything, I should stay out of the picture. I’m not a third year like the rest of you.”

Kalim gasps, scandalized. “We can’t do that! It doesn’t matter what year you are. You’re still our friend, and parties are for everyone to enjoy.”

“Doesn’t that throw off the original plan?” Ruggie wonders, munching on a frosted donut.

“Kalim, we need to account for height. Riddle can’t stand in the back.” Jamil glances apologetically at Riddle. “That’s just the reality of it.”

Riddle huffs, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“I’ll stand in the front,” Silver offers.

“What? No, that’s not the issue here, Silver.”

“It’s not? I thought we were picking who stands beside (Name).”

“Ooh, I wanna stand with Shrimpy!” Floyd wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “C’mon, Sea Otter, take our pic!”

Jamil sighs. “All of you…”

“Shall we take individual photos with (Name) first?” Jade suggests, smiling placidly at Kalim.

This time the message is received loud and clear. “Oh, great idea, Jade! Azul and (Name), could you stand next to each other?”

The group disperses to allow you and Azul to do just that. Rigidly, Azul steps closer. He keeps a healthy distance between your bodies, one Jade picks up on right away.

“Please smile and pretend like you love each other,” he instructs, to which Azul flusters.

“W-What? Jade, that’s—”

“C’mere, Ashengrotto! I don’t bite!”

With a joyous laugh, you wrap your arm around Azul’s waist and drag him in close. He stumbles, flushed in the face, just as the camera flashes. The corresponding photo slides out next, blank for a while. Eventually, the image begins to show up with striking clarity.

“How’s it look? Great, right?” As soon as it happened, it’s gone—your warmth. The comfort of being held. Azul almost pursues you when you release him from your grasp and move towards Kalim to inspect the photo. Thankfully, he catches himself. “Hey, this is nice! Good job.”

You and Kalim share a high-five.

“Me next, Sea Otter!” Floyd crowds in, baring his pointed teeth in an unruly grin.

With everyone’s attention on you, Kalim, and the camera, Azul’s left to stand behind in silence. Anticipating the rainless deluge, Jade lingers within earshot.

“I know,” he mutters in a brittle tone. “Don’t say a word.”

“Not a peep. Although if I may share just a tiny tidbit… Kalim offered some very helpful advice. You may want to hear it.”

Azul stares at him, stunned. “You told Kalim?”

“Not directly, no. It was implied.” Jade averts his mismatched eyes on purpose. “More or less.”

“I should’ve made you and Floyd sign NDAs…”

“Is it really so sensitive?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it is!” Azul deflates with a sigh, looking on mournfully. You’re trying to snatch the camera from Floyd’s hands. He holds it up and out of reach, laughing raucously. “What did he say?”

“If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart.”

Azul barks out a short, hollow laugh. “In an ideal world, that’s easy.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” Jade issues an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“It’s just something to consider.”

A minute ticks between them. Jade watches the scene alongside Azul, delighting in distant chaos.

“I’m afraid, Jade,” he admits quietly, the confession as soft and fragile as a single breath. “She’s everything and I’m…nothing.”

Jade frowns in disagreement.

“I’ve looked at it from every conceivable angle. There isn’t any calculated risk to be made—no potential profit or success to be had.”

“Are you certain?”

“Very.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to get it off your chest. We have a few weeks left before the break. If not your heart, perhaps you could establish a means to communicate?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… For the sake of networking—”

Jade chuckles. “Networking? Is that it?”

Azul scowls. “You’re awfully irritating tonight.”

“I’m not the one with his tentacles tied, hopelessly infatuated.”

“You—”

“(Name), there’s something Azul would like to tell you,” Jade announces, and you turn to look at him.

Azul thinks he should just go ahead and die right there. Is it possible to spontaneously combust if he thinks about it long enough? Is such a phenomenon magic? All he needs to do is visualize it and then the spark will catch and—

“Yeah? What’s up, Azul?”

Azul flounders, his concentration broken. Like he’s done so many times in the past, he plasters his trademark smirk-grin on and falls into the shoes of the sleazy conman. “If you ever find yourself in need of study materials even after I’ve graduated, do not hesitate to contact me and I—”

You laugh. “I think I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

With withering confidence, he chuckles. “I could give you quite the deal. You’d be missing out…”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

Jade—annoying, asshole Jade—brushes past, smooth as sea glass. “I shall take my leave, but please continue your chat. I believe there’s a camera waiting to capture the memory of me.”

Now it’s just you and Azul. He clears his throat, suddenly awkward.

“(Name), I—”

“Azul—”

“Oh.” He stares at you, a smile twitching on his lips. “You first.”

“No, no, you spoke before me.”

“Ah. Well…”

If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart. As if a love that’s been flowering for two years could possibly be resolved within the span of a few months.

He tries again even though it’s not what he really wants to say. “I do hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”

“You as well.” You nudge him. “Kick ass at your internship.”

“I intend to.” Right. Internship. Work. Business. He can hold a normal conversation if that’s the topic. “And you? Do you plan to stay here?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s letting Grim and me live on campus since we don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll work part-time in Craneport. Summer is a great season for tourism, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Azul laughs. “If it’s a family, they may spend more on kid’s menus for the novelty of it all. Be sure to talk it up to truly sell it. All children deserve to know the magic of a seasonal menu, do they not? Food in fun shapes. Fairy tales and sparkles. All of that razzmatazz. It’s the experience they’re paying for, after all.”

“Is that advice free?”

“Is it?”

“Fine, fine.” You dig through your pocket and hand him the photo from earlier. “Your payment, good sir. A memento of me.”

Azul takes it from you, admires your effortlessly pretty smile, and then freezes. “Oh, I look positively dreadful!”

“Not at all. It adds character.”

“A horrid sort of character.”

You sidle up beside him, peering at the picture. “I like it. It’s a photo of an imperfect Azul.”

“What an ambiguous compliment.”

“I’m serious! It’s Azul when he’s not acting. I like imperfect Azul. He’s authentic. A real person.” You pat him on the shoulder. He stiffens, betraying his initial nonchalance. “Or maybe not. One day I’ll catch you off guard.”

“We’ll see.”

“One day…” Your attention is stolen when you catch sight of the group attempting to bunch together for a selfie. Offering Azul that same smile he’s admired ever since he saw it, you add, “Have a fun summer. Don’t be a stranger next year, okay?” And then you’re bounding across the lounge. “Wait for me! I want in, too!”

For the rest of the semester, Azul keeps the photo tucked away in his phone case.

I have time to mull over the pros and cons, he tells himself when he departs through the mirror, summer break at his fingertips.

ii. summer - maybe i’m just too good. maybe i’ll run away. maybe i’m over you. maybe i shouldn’t stay. maybe i just don’t care. maybe i talk too much.

It occurs to you, while sorting through the photos you’ve taken throughout this past school year, that there’s an absurd amount of Azul. Whether on his own or with others, he appears in more photos than anyone else. You wonder how that happened—how you managed to be there for so many of his moments, each one documented in photographic permanence.

Some of them are humorous. Azul looking unimpressed when you lifted your camera to capture him. Grim jumping into his arms to demand snacks. His glasses sitting crooked on his face. Some of them are endearing. Azul reading in a comfortable nook in the library. Azul smiling fondly at the lens during an alchemy lesson. Azul laughing after you cracked a joke during PE. Some of them are animated. Azul waving at you from across the courtyard. Azul rolling his eyes at a dull pun. Azul playfully blowing a kiss to the camera after you told him to do something memorable. Some are special. Azul in his birthday robes. Azul during that time Mostro Lounge became a butler café for one week. Azul on his last day of the semester, leveling the camera with a roguish smirk.

This one—the most recent and last photo taken of him—is especially important. It’s the conversation that prompted an unforgettable expression that fills you with butterflies whenever you recall it.

“I think you’ll miss me,” you told him, elbowing him for good measure.

“I think I will,” he replied, his lips curling.

Unequipped to deliver a witty retort, you could only gawk.

“Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to shock you into silence.” He chuckled, and there was that infamous smirk-grin—sitting so perfectly on his face, as if it was meant to be there for this very exchange. “You’re too easy, (Name). Where’s the challenge?”

Wordlessly, you raised your Ghost Camera and snapped his picture.

There are so many facets to his person that you’ve managed to catch on your camera—complex layers you wouldn’t have otherwise witnessed if you hadn’t spent so much time around him.

Now you realize why you have an abundance of Azul photos.

We sure hung out a lot this year, and every time I had my camera…

Is he your muse? Is he just naturally photogenic? He fits into plenty of backgrounds, but it’s never the scenery that fascinates and bewitches. It’s always his expression, his body language, his emotions. And the reason all of these photos are so important is because this is an Azul who is comfortable enough to show these sides to you. An Azul who wants you to document his best and his worst, his beautiful and his ugly, his silly and his serious.

Sitting at your desk, thumbing through stacks of photos, you know he’s more than a muse. As you watch Azul move in various pictures, you wonder what he’s doing. It’s only a month into summer, but everything feels so slow. Campus has cleared out, and with it the lounge has closed for the season. You’re certain he still has his ways of making profit and spreading word of its wonders. Azul isn’t foolish. He’s always working an angle. Endlessly clever and stubbornly ambitious.

Does he miss me, too? you think, running your finger over his smiling face. Or was that just something he said to get a reaction?

Just then, a gut-wrenching thought lodges itself deep: Are we even friends? What if he thinks I’m a nuisance? Maybe he’s just tolerating me and all this time I’ve been delusional.

You glimpse the photos again, watching Azul laugh soundlessly in an animated loop. What am I to you, Azul?

As if on cue, having sensed your sadness, arms wrap around you from behind. For a second you think it’s Grim, but then you see distinctly human hands clasping together. You whirl, startled out of your skin, to find Azul Ashengrotto standing there.

“Wha… What?”

He’s…here. Azul is standing in your bedroom.

You blink once and he remains. You blink twice and he’s still there, gazing down at you with soft, smiling features.

“Hello to you as well.”

“Hey…?” You pat his cheek and flinch away. “Oh, you’re real!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuckling, he withdraws and moves to stand at your deskside. “I’m wounded. To think you would forget me just like that. And I thought I was plenty memorable.” He blows you a mock kiss then, and that’s when it finally strikes you.

This isn’t your Azul. This is an Azul from your photos.

How is this even possible? you think, scrambling to find which picture—which memory—he’s from. In doing so, you remember a particularly unique fact about the Ghost Camera. It’s a magical device that allows a photographer to capture slivers of their subject’s soul, which gives way to a special sort of connection known as a soulbond. The deeper the bond, the more likely the person in the photographs is to take on animation and, in some cases, slip out of the image that contains them.

So this is Azul from the time at which he was last photographed, you determine, holding up pictures to match his corporeal likeness to that of the scenery. The Ghost Camera is so cool…

“I missed you, you know.”

“Did you now?” He leans in close, curious. “How much?”

You push him away with a weak scoff. This isn’t good for your heart. Any closer and you might say something you’ll come to regret.

“Not as much as you think.”

“Is that so?” His gaze pans over to the pile of photos on your desk. “And these photos are simply here for convenience?”

“D-Don’t worry about it! Summer project. You wouldn’t get it.”

He flashes his teeth at you in a bright, competitive grin. “Try me.”

“You’re so nosy. Don’t you get tired of prying?”

“Not in the slightest.” He leans against the desk, his arms folding casually over his chest. “That’s besides the point. You’re avoiding the subject at hand.”

You turn in your chair and open your mouth to reply—why are you so invested in this?—but a better idea crops up. Meeting his cerulean stare with fierce, fiery eyes, you challenge him: “If it matters so much to you, I could be convinced to share my plans for the small price of one kiss. A real kiss. Not that fake one from before.”

Azul blinks back at you, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Is that all you desire?”

“What do you mean by—”

Your question is cut off when another set of arms embraces you from behind. Warm, soft lips press against your cheek; his breath tickles your ear.

“Are two not better than one?”

With a yelp, you jerk back so fast that you almost fall out of your chair. Standing there, looking very proud of himself, is another Azul. But this one, unlike Dorm Azul, is dressed in his school uniform. A very helpful distinction.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

It’s the only coherent sentence you can manage. Your mind is a panicked muddle: I can’t believe it. Two Azuls. Am I dreaming? This is definitely a dream, right? There’s no way he’d kiss me on the…

You slap your hand over your cheek, gasping. “Y-You kissed me?!”

“Is that not the price you wanted me to pay?” School Azul asks, one brow raised as if daring you to deny that fact.

Dorm Azul’s fingers curl under your chin, guiding your gaze towards him. “Unless you’d like to raise the price…”

You swallow thickly. This can’t be happening.

“Of course, in raising the price, it’s expected you raise the value of the information you’re willing to divulge,” School Azul adds with a chuckle. “Is that not fair?”

You shrink under both of their insistent stares. “W-Why do you even wanna know?”

“Why not? Any information is good information so long as it’s useful.”

You scoff, but it comes out choked and shy. “I… I’m going to use these photos to put together a present for you. I know your birthday’s so far away, but I’m getting a head start.”

“And this present would entail…?”

You click your tongue at him. “I already paid my half for that kiss. No more.”

“Aah, is that right?” Dorm Azul leans in, kissing dangerously close to your lips. You reach up to touch the corner of your mouth after he’s pulled away. “How much for the full story?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

School Azul rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you up from your seat. This proximity allows you to feel his hair as it brushes against your face. Dorm Azul closes the distance as if it’s second nature, and now you’re sandwiched between the both of them.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. He’s quite literally surrounding you, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“A very valid question.” Dorm Azul glances coyly at School Azul. “What do you think, Me?”

“Will we be enough for you, (Name)?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

You’re dizzy in their arms, your entire body warming with anticipation and embarrassment alike. Is it okay to be selfish? Even though this isn’t technically Azul—just mere memories of him—it seems so real. He’s holding you, touching you, reaching for you…

“Hmm. Two does seem to be a bit much.”

“Let’s call it a holiday and say it’s seasonal spoiling.”

“A gift for the summer.”

“Do open the window to let in the breeze. The heat is prone to making one feel rather…stuffy.”

They’re doing this on purpose. Maybe another Azul is more troublesome than I once thought. I can only handle so much charm!

Shrugging off self-doubt, you grab Dorm Azul by his lapels and yank him towards you, sealing the space that once separated your mouths in a hungry kiss. He melts against you, eyes fluttering shut. It’s quick and starved, the way you chase each other’s lips. You cling to him before you can fall, arms looped around his neck to keep him near.

Fully clothed and achingly desperate, you loathe the unbearable heat, but nothing is more molten than the space between your thighs.

Meanwhile, School Azul takes his sweet time running his hands along your sides, up the length of your body until he reaches your chest. With his form pinned to yours, you can feel his erection pressing against your ass. Rather shamelessly, he rolls his hips. You’re pushed up against Dorm Azul next, who takes hold of your hand and guides it to the strain in his slacks. He pulls away briefly to allow School Azul to slide your shirt up and over your head.

“Were you anticipating this?” he whispers, taking hold of your breasts.

“No way,” you protest between kisses. “Not… No. K-Keep dreaming. It’s too much trouble to wear one in the summer. Gets hot and—”

Dorm Azul captures your lips in another ravenous smooch, and the objection dies in your throat.

“There’s no need for these pesky articles where I’m from,” School Azul murmurs. He presses kisses into your bare shoulder, humming his very obvious delight. “You’d have already been laid out beneath me if that were the case… Soft and sweet, all mine to love at the bottom of the sea…”

“Humans have so many steps,” Dorm Azul laments, tutting.

“And merfolk don’t?” You try to sound smart with your question, but it comes out breathless when your nipple’s twisted between two fingers. “Oh…”

“Not when it comes to clothing. The very concept doesn’t exist beneath the waves.”

“You could visit sometime and see for yourself. I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Dorm Azul rests his forehead against yours. “And maybe then you’ll find yourself so taken with my home that you’ll want to stay.”

“A tempting offer.”

“But?” he prompts, his gaze falling to your hand as you palm him through his pants. He inhales a shaky breath.

“What’s stopping you?” the other Azul asks, his voice muffled in your skin.

“Firstly, I’m not a mer.”

“My dear, that’s nothing. Have you forgotten my proficiency in potionology?”

“And how much will one of your potions cost? I’d love to visit, but if it’s going to bankrupt me—”

“For you, a single kiss is all I require.”

“Isn’t that awfully cheap?”

Dorm Azul chuckles at this back-and-forth. “You say that as if you want me to charge an exorbitant amount.”

Glaring, you squeeze him out of revenge. His laughter comes out choked next, replaced with a needy whimper. Unbelievable.

“Maybe I do.”

“I would be careful with those words, dearest. I might take them to heart.”

He ruts against your hand, panting into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet, all tongue and saliva. You move on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders when you’re taken to bed next. Both Azuls peer down at you from where they kneel on either side of you. They issue you hazy, lust-drunk smiles. Hands wander, feeling every inch you have to offer. You shut your eyes and submit to titillating touches.

“You really did miss me,” School Azul remarks when his fingers slip into your shorts to rub you through your sodden panties. Your breath hitches, a strangled whine squeezed from your throat, and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

“I really like you,” you blurt, chest heaving with your every breath. He squeezes your clit to draw another sinful groan from you. “I think—Azul, you’re so—I think you’re so amazing… I wish we talked more. The year—aah… It went by so fast.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“I wanna know you—the real you. I wanna know what Azul’s like when he’s comfortable and when he’s sad and when he’s happy. I wanna—ooh! Please… Please, Azul…” You grab fistfuls of the sheets, arching up towards the hands that caress your stomach lovingly. “I just want you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he—you’re not sure which—promises, leaning over to kiss you. It’s soulful passion, lust bleeding into love. Your cries are lost on his lips when you come undone beneath him, buoyant on a mellow wave.

You sense the loss before you see it.

Half-nude and gasping for breath, you stare up at the ceiling. Your bedroom is empty. All that remains of the Azuls are the animated memories imprinted on the photographs.

“I’m losing my mind…” you mutter, draping your arm over your eyes.

Please let summer pass quickly.

iii. winter - maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard. and maybe that’s just fine as long as you’re here in my arms.

Azul paces restlessly in his VIP room. It’s been months since he’s seen you, but his heart hasn’t swayed in the slightest. If anything, he’s only grown fonder in the time spent apart. Absence… What a bothersome thing.

“You’re gonna walk yourself into the floor, y’know. Your shoes’ll be all worn out by the time you’re done.”

“I’m aware,” Azul quips, uncharacteristically jittery. He turns towards Floyd. “Do I look presentable? Is anything crooked or misplaced? How about my hair?”

“You’re fine.” At Azul’s disbelieving glower, Floyd pouts. “I mean it. Shrimpy’s gonna like it either way.”

He bristles, defensive. “Who said anything about (Name)?”

“No one, but you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I… T-That’s besides the point! It doesn’t matter. She’s only here because I invited her. Common courtesy and all that.”

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

Azul frowns at the vault set into the wall behind his desk. If only he could pack all of his fears in there and lock them away for good. Then he could continue masquerading as someone fearless and confident. With winter having descended upon campus, bringing with it layers of fluffy, glittering snow, and the cultural festival having concluded successfully, Azul finds himself lost.

This is the last birthday he’ll celebrate at Night Raven College and, subsequently, the last February he’ll spend with you. He’s running out of time.

“Invitation or not, Shrimpy’ll always wish you a happy birthday. S’not like her to forget. Plus, she cares about ya.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Azul’s tone is so sharp that Floyd raises his hands in defense. “Guess not.”

“What would you do?” He inhales a wobbly breath. “If you were in my shoes…”

Floyd scratches the back of his neck, contemplative. “Dunno. Guess I’d wait for the right moment and say somethin’ to get it outta my system.”

Azul sighs. “Jade said something similar.”

“He ain’t wrong.”

“I’m not prepared.”

“No one is.” Floyd smiles at Azul’s baffled expression. “C’mon, Azul, you can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to. S’just how it is.”

“Even so, it’s better to know all viable routes and options before diving into uncharted waters.”

“That’s just it. You can’t know. S’kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“I can’t do it,” he decides, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’d rather accept my future failure now than continue working towards it.”

“Like a coward.”

“Far from it! In business, that’s known as rescission. It is a completely valid method of—”

“You ever realize your feelings and business are two separate things? Not everything’s gotta be about business.”

Azul stands there, nonplussed.

Floyd makes for the door, stopping only to add, “Your fly’s unzipped, by the way.”

“You—” He scrambles to check. Much to his relief, it’s not. “Honestly… That’s not even funny.”

He smooths nonexistent wrinkles, schools his expression into something brave, and exhales slowly. I’m not going to ruin an occasion as grand as this with a half-baked confession.

Having made up his mind, he steps through the door out into the bustling lounge. Like clockwork, all eyes turn to him. He searches the crowd for you, hopeful. But before he can locate you, party poppers resound with a loud bang. Confetti trickles down like colorful rainfall, landing on his suit and getting stuck in his hair.

“Happy birthday, Azul!”

He wants to run and hide. He wants to dive into the sea and seek solace in his favorite octopus pot. He wants to bury himself in the sand and disappear.

Instead, he smiles and spreads his arms like he’s just pulled off an astounding magic trick. “Why, thank you, everyone! I’m pleased you could make it. Do enjoy yourselves to the fullest tonight.”

Cheers erupt amongst the partygoers, but they might as well be on a completely different island. Azul turns, hoping to make his rounds and escape, but Kalim intercepts him. Jamil isn’t far behind.

“Azul, happy birthday!” Kalim smiles just as Jamil catches up.

He passes two expertly wrapped gifts into Azul’s empty hands. “On behalf of Kalim and myself, thank you for the invitation.”

“Yeah, super thanks! It’s been so much fun. I hope you’ll like your gift, but if you don’t just let me know and I’ll get you something else. Whatever you want! You deserve it on your special day.”

Azul looks past him, not in the mood to entertain. “Yes, of course. It’s not a problem.”

Jamil raises a brow, but then it clicks. “(Name) wanted me to pass on her regards.”

As expected, that draws his attention. “Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see you on your big, busy day.” Jamil eyes Azul knowingly.

Kalim nods. “We ran into her on the way here, but she said to go on without her.”

Azul doesn’t like the way they’re both looking at him—as if they’re in on some joke he’s not currently aware of.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “her regards are well-received.”

“You’re not going to meet her?”

“It’s my big, busy day, isn’t it? I’m afraid she’ll have to catch me at her earliest convenience.” Azul, gifts in hand, smiles. “Please do enjoy the party, you two. Thank you again for your thoughtful gifts and birthday wishes.”

On his way to the table designed for gifts, Azul spots Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie. They stand off to the side, chatting amongst themselves. He supposes, if anything, he might as well say hello. Setting the gifts down, Azul struts over.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“You know it. Parties at Octavinelle are always somethin’ else,” Ruggie says. Unsurprisingly, he’s done well to fix himself a plate and more. With him around Azul doesn’t have to fret over food waste.

“Your presentation at the cultural festival was very informative, if I may say so,” Riddle commends, sipping his fizzy beverage.

“As was yours.” Azul’s smile tightens. For some reason, he’s always felt the need to walk on eggshells around Riddle. And for good reason, too! Whatever Azul seems to accomplish, no matter how lofty a feat, Riddle seems to do better. “I’m sure you’ve had quite the rewarding experience yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s good timing,” Silver notes, and all eyes drift towards him. Azul perks up. Timing. He needs more of that. “Your birthday came right after the festival. It’s almost like celebrating your hard work and another healthy year all in one.”

“Never thought about it that way. Guess it makes sense when you put it like that.” Ruggie grins cheekily. “Lucky you, Azul.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck. The dates just happened to align… Either way, thank you, Silver. I’m pleased you can look at it with such inspiring positivity.”

“You catch up with (Name) yet?”

“No? Am I meant to?”

“Just asking.” Ruggie shrugs. “She had me run a few errands for her yesterday. Said it was all for your sake, but when I tried to get more info outta her she told me I’d have to wait for ‘the big reveal’—whatever that is.”

Now everyone’s looking at him. Azul feels small.

“With how often I’ve heard her name tonight, I’d think she’s the one with the birthday.”

“Is she really so popular today? Odd. I haven’t had the chance to greet her,” Riddle muses.

“I thought I saw her this afternoon.” Silver furrows his brow, uncertain. “She seems busy.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t fathom the insistence that I ought to have met with her already.”

Ruggie tilts his head. “That the only reason?”

Just how many people are in on this asinine joke? More importantly, which eel is he going to have to wring out for spilling a not-so-secret secret?

Azul realizes his mask is slipping and so he repairs it expertly. If Ruggie takes notice of this, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s bad manners to show up late to a party. I’m sure one of us will agree.”

Riddle nods, but his words are surprisingly lenient. “Life happens. I suppose we can’t fault (Name) entirely.”

“She’ll make it. I’m sure she will. Don’t worry, Azul,” Silver reassures.

He’s not. He won’t. He isn’t.

“If the world was ending tomorrow,” Ruggie says, sliding into a new subject with practiced finesse, “what would you all do?”

“The end of the world…” Riddle frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s a hypothetical. Anything’s possible.”

Silver hums thoughtfully. “I’d spend what time I have left with my loved ones.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna go running back to Briar Valley to protect Malleus?”

“As a guard it’s my duty, but fighting against the inevitable would be pointless.” Silver looks to the rest of them for their input. “If the world is ending and there’s nothing a guard like myself can do to prevent it, then I can only offer what’s left of my time.”

“So companionship. Okay, good to know. What about you, Riddle?”

He huffs. “I refuse to let the world end before I’ve accomplished my goals.”

“Yikes. You academic types don’t rest, do you?”

“No, no, it’s true,” Azul pipes up. “I agree. Why am I going to let the world get in the way of my plans?”

“So both of you are going to resist it until the very end?”

“You said anything can happen in a hypothetical, yes?” Riddle smirks. “In my hypothetical the world says it’ll end tomorrow, but it never does. It keeps saying so like it’s a faulty forecast. The end of the world is scheduled for next week, the week after, three weeks from now. By then, a year’s passed and the world still hasn’t ended.”

Ruggie groans. “That defeats the whole purpose of my question. You can’t give yourself more time when it’s already so limited.”

“Anything is possible if you know what you’re working with,” Azul adds, nodding alongside Riddle. “I quite like this hypothetical.”

“Leave it to the honors students to logic it out and make it more complicated than it needs to be…”

“You wouldn’t spend it with your loved ones?” Silver asks, but it appears as if the question is directed entirely at Azul. “I think I’d want to tell them the things I never got to say. Things I put off saying… Would you do that, too, Azul?”

“I…” He shuts his mouth and then opens it. “I’m not sure what I could possibly say within such a limited timeframe.”

“It doesn’t have to be complex.”

“I guess a good, old ‘love you lots’ is better than nothing,” Ruggie says.

Azul stops short. The end of the world. Time. Loss. Loved ones.

Time! He’s running out of time!

“Well, this was quite the lively discussion, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself now. There are a few more people I must meet.” Azul smiles gratefully at the three of them. They wish him another happy birthday before he finally departs, his heart in his throat.

He’s running out of time.

Logically, Azul knows the feeling doesn’t reflect his reality. It’s not as if he has to confess by the end of the school year. Logically, he has his entire life to confess. But who’s to say you’ll stay in his life after he graduates? You might be gone by the time he finally finds the right words, the right time, the right circumstance.

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Floyd’s right. There’s no way of knowing for sure until he does it. There’s no way to know what lies in those uncharted waters until he dives in. There’s no way to know where your heart lies until he confesses.

The world isn’t going to end tomorrow, but if he doesn’t say what he needs to before graduation he’ll never have another chance. And then that world—the world contained within NRC’s boundaries—will implode and that will be that.

At that very moment, a camera flashes. He spins around to search the photographer out and—

There you are, striding through throngs of people to reach him. There you are, dressed for the occasion. There you are, wearing that pretty smile he sees in his dreams.

“Happy birthday!” You turn the photo towards him for his viewing pleasure. It’s of him, staring off into space. He looks so stone-faced with his knitted brows and pursed lips. “Sorry about showing up late. I had to add the finishing touches to your present.”

You hand it to him. The amateur wrapping job makes the gift appear more lumpy than it actually is. It’s heavy like a textbook. Shaped as such, too. Azul wonders what its contents could be. Perhaps something relating to economics? A novel in a particular genre?

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of both.” He tucks the picture into his breastpocket, battling the urge to tear into your gift now. He needs to know. What did you get him? What could it possibly be? “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Even if the world was ending?”

“Uh… What?”

“Ah, never mind that. It was simply a lingering thought from a previous conversation.”

“That’s so grim! And on your birthday, no less.”

Azul waves his hand through the air. A playful smile draws his lips apart. “Can you believe Riddle said he’d make the apocalypse wait on his behalf?”

“Seriously?” You snort, eyes brightening with amusement. “Even the apocalypse gets a schedule…”

He barks out a laugh. “Insanity, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for us, but definitely not for Riddle.” You glance at him. “What about you? What does Azul Ashengrotto’s last day look like?”

He intends to answer with something prepackaged: Awash in success until the very end!

“Alone.”

“Really? No friends or family by your side?”

“Would that make it better? Perhaps being surrounded by others only intensifies the dread.”

There’s some sort of symbolism in coming into the world alone and going out the same. Azul just can’t quite phrase it eloquently.

“Maybe there’s no right answer. Maybe there’s not any comfort in it either.” You run your fingers over the edges of your Ghost Camera. “We can’t know what lies ahead until we’re there. Maybe that’s why we spend so much time theorizing.”

“Quite the insightful judgment.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t mind being your plus-one for the end of the world.”

“I’m flattered.” He grins. “I shall be yours in return.”

“No strings attached?”

“All the strings attached. So many,” he exaggerates.

“No fair!”

Silence fills in the cracks. You stand side by side, drinking in Mostro Lounge’s upbeat atmosphere. After some time, you nudge him.

“Look at us, speaking about all of these sad things. It’s your birthday, not a funeral!”

He wonders if now’s a good time. Should he lighten the mood and confess? But wouldn’t that just make it even more serious and somber? Is there ever going to be an opportune moment?

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Surprises. Spontaneity. Luck. All things left to chance. All things Azul attempts to anticipate. He thinks back on the many plans and what-ifs he calculated and wonders if it was worth it.

“(Name), I just wanted to say—” He stops himself, his fingers curling around the gift cradled in his arms. I love you and I want you in my life. I don’t want the world to end here with you and me. I want to know what lies beyond and experience it with you—the good and the bad. Everything. “I just wanted to thank you.”

For being my friend. For being yourself. For existing in the same world as me, even if it feels like we’re doomed to be islands apart.

“What’s this? Genuine thanks? Am I going to find an anemone on my head next?”

“That can be arranged. Isn’t it tradition to grant the person of the hour one birthday favor?”

“Hah! You wish!”

I do. I really do.

The party wears on into the night. Azul repeats the same mantra as before: I have time.

When he’s in his room, gifts piled high on his desk, he sits back in his seat and carefully unwraps yours. It’s a book, leather-bound and regal. It looks expensive. While attempting to approximate its value, he reads the title spelled out with alphabet stickers: My Azul. His brow furrows. Just what are you playing at here?

Cautiously, he opens the book to the first page. Your writing winks back at him: Happy birthday, Azul! This is my gift to you. It’s a chronological journal of your school life! :D People often say it’s difficult to picture themselves through the eyes of others, so I wanted to show you what I see every time I look at you. I hope you’ll never forget just how important you are. If you ever do, open this book to remind yourself.

With love always,

(Name).

“Curious,” he mumbles, flipping the page. The layout reminds him of a scrapbook. You’ve decorated it with stickers and patterned tape, scrawled words in different colored inks. There are two photographs—each from Azul’s second year. He’d forgotten about these. That time it snowed so much the students had a snowball fight in the courtyard. That time an alchemy accident (courtesy of Grim) led to Azul speaking in cat for the rest of the day.

In the center, a small blurb reads: My Azul is terrifyingly good at making snowballs within record time, just as he’s terrifyingly good at marketing them at all the right moments. My team was totally losing. Leave it to Azul to swoop in when he knows it’s advantageous… He’s intelligent and passionate. Even when mistakes occur, he works through them effortlessly. (Although it was nice having Catzul for a day!)

He rolls his eyes at that last bit.

The next page displays photos in much the same fashion. You’ve clearly put lots of effort and thought into each arrangement. Azul feels like he’s walking through a museum with every page. Like the first, the rest of the pages that follow include photographs of himself (some with others and some with you) and a short paragraph describing your observations.

His eyes are on the verge of a typhoon as he soaks in every sugared sentence.

My Azul is strong. My Azul is silly. My Azul has the best laugh. My Azul is great at bargaining. My Azul is awkward. My Azul is clumsy (in the best ways). My Azul is resourceful. My Azul makes the best study guides (thank you!!!!). My Azul is a hero. My Azul never gives up. My Azul is a talented mage. My Azul is…

All of these things he’s never heard anyone acknowledge before—have you always seen him in this way? Is this truly what he’s like through your eyes? He finds that hard to believe, and yet there he is on the page, winking at the camera or posing in an outfit from one of the many school trips he’s attended. You’ve added little comments and doodles in the margins and corners. Azul smiles as he reads them.

Noble Bell College sure was something! I’d like to visit again one day…

Vargas Camp was exhausting! I still can’t believe we survived.

Halloween! I want to experience it in the Coral Sea one day. But maybe just for one night. An endless Halloween is too much…

The ceremonial robes are very pretty. They’re so different from the uniforms in my world.

Happy Beans Day! Azul prepares all year for this. That level of commitment is impressive!

Azul reaches the end with watery eyes. He sniffles, so enveloped in a love he’s never felt from any friend before. You care. You truly, honestly care. It’s clear in each and every page—in the words you’ve written. You care about him.

The final page has a blank space the rough shape and size of a photograph. For some reason he understands what he’s meant to do. He slides the photograph you gave him all that time ago from his phone case and pastes it to the space. And then he reads what’s written below.

My Azul keeps all of these walls up in order to protect himself. He’s sensitive and self-conscious. He likes to uphold a perfect image at all times. He likes to keep his weaknesses hidden, his cards close. But then he’s also funny. He’s sincere and gentle. He’s sweet. He’s someone I admire from all sides, good and bad. Even when he’s scheming, even when he’s acting, he’s still Azul. My camera’s captured so many of his moments, which is very apparent now that you’ve made it to the end. But I’m happy to have documented these moments because they showcase everything that makes my Azul himself.

My Azul has never looked “positively dreadful” to my camera. Even on the days where he feels like nothing, my Azul is everything to me. I will always think so.

He’s crying. He can’t help it.

Azul sits there and he sobs.

He sobs until his throat is dry, until his eyes are blotchy and red. He sobs until he can’t anymore.

Holding the book close to his chest, he wonders how he ever managed to befriend someone like you.

An angel. That’s what you are.

An angelfish.

And he’s Azul. Your Azul.

iv. spring - but, baby, i’ll be there. yeah, baby, i’ll be there. it’s been a little hard. i’ve been a little tough. but maybe all along i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid. i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid.

The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers, thick with pollen. Azul’s chest is light, swelling with excitement. A new chapter is about to begin. In just a few hours he’ll graduate along with the rest of his peers and then it’s off to start another story. For Azul, this is just a continuation of something already so prolific.

He strolls past The Great Seven, pausing briefly to admire the Sea Witch in all of her tentacular glory.

“With this weather, it’s almost difficult to imagine they called for rain.” Jade peers up at the sun, shielding its obtrusive rays with one hand.

“They’re always gettin’ it wrong,” Floyd says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So annoying. I was hopin’ it’d rain and then they’d cancel.”

“Unlikely. There are always contingency plans put in place when it comes to an event as momentous as graduation.”

“Bleh. Lame. I wanna skip. I hate bein’ in those stuffy clothes, packed in close like a sardine.”

“If you’re absent, you won’t receive your diploma.”

“What a scam.”

Jade simply smiles. Ironic.

Azul turns around to look at them. “Four years… Gone in a blink. Will either of you miss it?”

“It was certainly enjoyable. I admit there are some aspects I’ll miss quite fiercely.”

“Guess it’ll be a bummer not seein’ everyone all the time. I’m gonna miss playing with Baby Seal and Shrimpy.”

“I’ll miss them, too.” Azul sighs. “(Name) especially…”

“You still haven’t told her?” Floyd raises a brow. “You’re gonna leave without sayin’ a word?”

“That does seem to be the plan,” Jade answers.

“I… I’ve thought it over.” He clears his throat. No time for waterworks. He needs to be in top shape if he’s to deliver the opening speech as Salutatorian. Riddle took first place, which wasn’t a shock to anyone. He always did say he’d make Valedictorian no matter what. Azul had been keen to fight him for it, even if it became clear he’d never surpass him. Second place is irksome, but it has its merits. Although he isn’t going to settle with just that! He’ll get first place one of these days. “We’re better off friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that enough?”

“Is what enough?”

“Her friendship.”

“It’ll have to be.” Azul’s gaze glazes over.

He’s run out of time, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that was meant to be.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it any further!” He claps his hands and turns swiftly on his heel. “There’s still work to be done.”

Jade and Floyd exchange furtive glances. They know as well as he does that he’s lying.

But maybe that was also meant to be.

— — —

Crowley tasked you with snapping photos for NRC’s yearbook. “Because I am a paragon of magnanimity,” he said, “I am entrusting this very important task to you once more. Take lots of pictures! Don’t miss a single moment!”

You do just that, photographing the graduates as they wait in a room behind the stage, chattering eagerly amongst themselves. You raise your camera to document Azul when he stands at the podium to give his salutation speech. You do the same for Riddle when it’s his turn. The ceremony is grand, ballooning with emotion. You look on with a cheek-splitting smile, proud of every student who crosses the stage. It’s bittersweet. The friends you made when you were enrolled as a first year are now moving on in life.

Time flies. What a whirlwind year it’s been.

When it’s Azul’s turn and he goes down the line to shake the hands of his professors and Crowley, you wave at him from your place in the audience. He meets your eyes from where he stands, and he smiles.

Your camera catches that moment in perfect permanence.

By the end of it all, your face hurts from smiling, your throat sore from cheering, your hands raw from clapping. Grim grumbles at you to knock it off with the sun shower, your tears dampening his fur. You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I’m happy for them. It’s a good day.”

He forces his head under your palm, allowing you to pet him and cry through it in peace. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t need him to.

While the graduates meet up with their family and friends, you make your rounds. Kalim introduces you to his parents and siblings—all thirty-something of them. You’re in a daze by the time introductions are finished, and Jamil leans over to whisper, “No need to commit everyone to memory.”

“Have you talked to Azul yet?” Kalim asks after everything has settled down.

You shake your head. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted to ask. I know the Headmage wants you to take lots of pictures.”

“We shouldn’t keep you any longer than we already have,” Jamil adds with a curt nod.

You smile. “Congrats, both of you. Good luck.”

“We gotta keep in touch. Promise me you’ll call whenever you can. You’re always welcome to visit, too! Oh, I’ll go check with my parents now! I’m sure they’ll say yes!” Kalim bounds off in their direction.

“Just let me know well in advance. That way I can plan for proper accommodations,” Jamil says, following Kalim with sharp eyes.

“I’ll do that.” You turn to leave and then stop. “I hope you get your vacation one day, Jamil.”

He stares at you, mystified, before a gentle smile softens on his face. “One day,” he echoes. “I hope you’ll find your way home.”

“One day.”

The two of you share a final look before going your separate ways.

Surrounded in such an energetic environment, talking to and meeting families, you find yourself longing for your loved ones. So much time has passed. You wonder how they’re doing. Are they well? Are they worried?

“Aah, it’s Shrimpy!” Floyd crashes into you with so much force you nearly topple. He steadies you with a giggle. “Where’s Baby Seal?”

“Left to gorge on refreshments. Hey, since you’re here, can I get your picture?”

“Course you can.”

Detaching himself, he poses for you. You take a few photos, mirroring his good mood.

“Are your parents around?”

“Mhm!”

“Seriously? They came?”

“Course they did.”

“Did they take transformation potions?”

Floyd nods. “Pops does land business sometimes, so he’s used to it. Mama doesn’t leave home much. She’s real bad at walking on her feet.”

“Ah, got it.”

Floyd grins down at you. “You wanna meet ’em?”

“Maybe later… I’ve gotta keep taking photos.”

“I gotcha. Make sure to snap a few of Azul.”

“Right! Speaking of him, where is he? I’ve spoken to everyone but him.”

Floyd peers out across a sea of faces, scanning each one like a predator sizing up his next meal. “He’s avoidin’ ya.”

“What? Why?”

“Why don’tcha ask him when you see him? Bet he’ll have a fun answer for ya.”

You would, if only you could find him. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to lose hope. If he’s truly hiding from you, he’s doing a great job of it. After what feels like hours of walking in aimless circles, you take pause to consider the situation. If you were Azul and you wanted to hide away for a little while, where would you go?

To someplace familiar. To someplace comfortable. To someplace quiet.

He’s pacing in front of Ramshackle when you arrive. You open the gate and step through, taking each step one at a time. Once you’re within a close enough proximity, you make your presence known.

“Azul?”

He startles and whips around. As soon as he sees you, he lurches forward, intending to leave.

You block his path. “Hey, wait! What gives? I’ve been looking all over for you. Floyd told me you’re avoiding me.”

“Floyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But I’m sure you do. So what’s up?”

“It’s…nothing. I merely wanted to tour campus one last time.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come with you!” You attempt to elbow him, but he side-steps you. “Uh, right…”

“Ah, sorry. I… Admittedly, there’s quite a lot on my mind.”

“I get it. Congrats, by the way. Your speech was really good.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

This…isn’t Azul, you realize, a frown flickering on your face. At least not the Azul I usually see.

“I got to meet all of Kalim’s siblings.”

“Did you? All of them?”

“Every. Single. One. His family’s huge!”

An uncomfortable silence festers between the two of you. You glance at your camera and then at Azul.

“Can you believe that Crowley? He wanted me to take all of these pictures, but there were dozens of professionals who did it much better than me! What was even the point?”

“Terrible, isn’t it? A job as good as the one you do deserves proper payment.”

“Exactly! My services aren’t free.”

Azul smiles, a wistful gloss to his gaze. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes—can see the calculation as it comes to fruition.

“You can cry. I won’t judge.”

“I’m not going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s normal, Azul.”

He inhales a deep breath, holds it for three seconds, and then releases. When he looks at you next, his expression is hard and riddled with subdued anxiety. A zephyr blows between you, rustling the leaves in the trees, raking through the grass, dragging wispy fingers through your clothes and hair. The quiet expands and stretches wide.

Azul opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs. A forlorn resignation flits over his countenance.

“I—” he swallows hard and then it just bursts free, the admission he’s kept secret for so long— “I love you.”

Another breeze combs through the premises. Your gasp is swept away with it.

“I’ve loved you for two years. And I… I wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I never could. I was scared and I ran away. I still am! The truth is that I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of messing up in front of you and looking like a fool. I’m afraid of showing you the parts of myself I hate most. I’m even afraid of that phrase—of saying it because it terrifies me to think, in some distant world, it might be reciprocated. But I have to say it, and I want you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, I have to tell you.”

You gape at him, utterly speechless. The longer you do so, the more flustered he becomes.

“Y-You’re free to think it’s gross or weird. I understand I’m not the most ideal candidate, but I…” He wrings his hands, exhaling shakily. “I think you’re everything. My whole world.”

There are so many things you want to say. So, so many. But they’re all jumbled, carried along like flowers floating down a stream in spring. You close the gap, taking his hands in yours, and you kiss him.

Azul startles, squeaking against your lips. It takes a minute for him to find his rhythm, but soon he’s wilting against you, his body relaxed. You taste saliva and salt—tears. When you pull back, he’s crying.

“I think you’re the most ideal candidate. I’ve always thought so.” You cradle his cheek in a warm hand.

A sob trembles through him. “I never thought—you’re just so… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“That I’d like you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” “Because…”

“I’ve always liked you, Azul. I’d never lie about that. Your birthday gift—those are my honest opinions.”

“Every one of them?”

“Each and every one.”

He sniffles weakly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Instinctively, you reach for your camera. And then you hesitate. You’ve always stood behind the protective lens of your trusty Ghost Camera, assuming the role of photographer in order to remain in his orbit. But now you’d like to try putting the camera aside and documenting Azul’s moments with your own two eyes.

He loves me.

You just manage to shut the front door before you’re pulling him flush against you. He presses you up against the wall in the foyer, a knee slotting between your legs. You melt in mutual merriment, grabbing at every part of him. Your uniform blouse is ripped open in a hurry. You try to handle his graduation robes with caution, appreciating expensive embroidery, but vehemence gets the better of you. It’s a wild rush. Hot and panting, you’re shuddering in carnal delight, every nerve alight. When he presses up against you next, half-dressed and hazy with an addictive adoration, you can feel the result of your exploratory touches straining for release.

“Upstairs,” you mumble against his mouth, sweating out of your skin.

You fall into bed as one, tangled around each other. Azul trails kisses up the expanse of your stomach, working you open on skillful fingers. You shiver beneath him, your heart pounding in your ribs.

“I love you.” A kiss to your belly.

“I love you.” A kiss to the valley of your breasts.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips.

You love him just as intensely.

He drags his fingers out next, admiring the slick coating them like it’s a valuable substance. You giggle, dizzy with delirium.

“Can I call you mine?”

You run your hands up and down his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Your boyfriend,�� he murmurs, astonished. “I’m your boyfriend…”

“Mhm…” You sit up in bed and climb into his lap. Slowly, inch by inch, you lower yourself. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth. “And I’m—mmh—I’m your girlfriend.”

Azul whines into your mouth. His arms wrap around you to keep you firmly pinned to his body, and he bucks his hips up to meet you the rest of the way. Filled in such a way, connected so intimately, you breathe a satisfied sigh. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Every muscle slackens. It’s bliss, pure and perfect. The both of you mold to one another like sea meeting shore.

You grind down, chasing a mounting climax. “You’re the best—perfect. So perfect. Oh, I love you, Azul. I love you so much. I’ve always wanted to say it.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have no idea how fervently I’ve yearned for this—for you.”

You can’t possibly begin to imagine, but you can definitely relate. Weeks of silent pining, of hoping something might happen and you’d be able to confess without fear. Those days are behind you. Now you can know love in his arms and it isn’t so uncertain.

You lose yourselves in the sensations of sweet, soulful sex. He’s gentle like a spring breeze, dedicated like a devotee at your altar. You’re much the same, your moans just as plentiful. Just as loud. You’re wrapped in wonder when you look into his eyes and find the same amount of love reflected back.

I’m so happy I met you.

When he cums, he digs his fingers into your hips to drag you down and bury himself deeper inside. You unravel shortly after, your orgasm coaxed out by a few attentive massages to your clit. Your bodies, sticky and sweaty, stay connected even after you’ve come down from the clouds.

“Had I known, I would’ve said something sooner.” After catching his breath, Azul rests his head in the crook of your neck. “I regret it.”

“I don’t. Things happen when they happen.” You run your fingers through the tangled, silvery strands of his hair. It’s soft just like him. He leans into your touch and hums appreciatively. “I’m glad it happened when it did.”

“I’m glad I could say it. It would’ve eaten me alive if I’d left without telling you.”

“And are you still afraid?”

Azul places his hand over yours. “No, not anymore. The world ahead looks much clearer now.”

“Am I in it?”

He laughs. “More than that.”

“Oh?”

“You are my world.”

#twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul x reader #n/sfw

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futterurl · 1 year ago

Text

Owe It To You

Josh Futturman x fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut (mdni!), oral(f!recieving), fingering, clit play, female anatomy on reader

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you were tired, to say the least.

going back in time, checking on the future to the same, demented outcome, really took a toll on you guys. it always seemed as if every effort and alternative path taken for the future didn’t matter.

you were lost in thought as tiger and wolf fought with each other, it was the same empty argument: wolf didn’t listen, tiger wanted control. it was draining to hear.

you all were in Joosh’s super house, taking a peek at how fucked up you all made this future. you left the living room in frustration, heading up to Joosh’s room.

you crashed onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow, letting out a low groan. you were tired of all the fighting, all the time travel, everything. you needed a break.

you heard a knock on the door, followed by a calming voice asking, “hey, you okay?”

you lifted the pillow from your face, seeing josh, peaking the door open, worry etched on his eyebrows. he knew how much of a toll this was starting to take on you, you guys were best friends, after all.

“yeah, just…tired, is all.” you half mumbled into the pillow, just loud enough so he could barely hear.

he leaned off the door and sat on the bed that you lay on. he scratched your head.

“something’s telling me there’s more to it than that.” he inquired.

“i don’t know…i guess i’m just tired of all this shit.” you began. “we try so hard to perfect the future, but are met with the same outcome. i’ve been trying to think left and right of new ideas…nothing’s working.”

he understood that this was only the tip of the iceberg, regarding your feelings for all this. when you got roped up into this mess, you left more behind than him. you left behind an internship you had busted your ass off for, and two other jobs, which you probably got fired from, due to your absence.

you had two different jobs just to meet ends meet, in your shitty apartment. sure, they were crappy, dead-end jobs, but they helped you get ends meet. you were somehow able to balance those along with your internship which you fought so hard to get.

all down the drain.

in a way, it was relieving, not having to juggle all of this, living every day as a drained, sleep deprived zombie.

unfortunately, this scenario was just like everything else in your life: there was no way out.

“i know, i know…i really am sorry you got dragged into this. it’s all my fault.” josh sighed.

it had just been a fun night of you guys playing video games, finally beating this one you guys had been playing for…forever. once you guys were just hanging out and talking about it, in a flash of light, wolf and tiger had appeared, needing the people who beat the game’s help. immediately. you both were there, so they needed the both of you.

“it’s not your fault, josh…we did it together, we gotta get through this together.” it really wasn’t his fault. you didn’t want him to think that.

“no, it is. i’m constantly getting you roped into all the shit that happens in my life, and you’ve been working your ass off to fix this timeline. you deserve better.” josh stroked your hair.

you sat up. “it’s okay, josh. there’s nobody i’d rather fix the timeline with.”

“still, it’s not fair. all of this isn’t fair. let me…let me make it up to you.” he seemed a bit nervous and started hesitating on his words.

you started to feel a little hot. “how would you go about ‘making it up to me’, josh?”

you did not expect what he did next.

josh was this awkward gamer nerd who had never felt the touch of a woman before. he’d always been so out of place and nervous talking to anyone, which made it so weird to hear what he said next.

“let…let me make you feel good.” his hand laying on the bed crept closer to your thigh, covered by your pants.

you started to get a little nervous yet excited. you had never seen him be this bold before.

“you’ve been so stressed by everything in life, and i mean everything. a-and you never have anyone help you out with anything. i want to help you…feel good, like stress relief.” his pinkie played with the fabric of your pants.

you couldn’t believe this was real right now. josh, the one you had known for years, barely having the balls to talk to girls besides you, doing this. your mine was racing.

he noticed how quiet you were being. “o-of course you don’t have to let me do it if you don’t want to! it was just an idea, it was stupid, i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anythi-”

he was cut off by you kissing him, hand holding his jawline. he melted into the kiss.

as you pulled away, you smiled. “i…i think i do want this. please, josh. make me feel good.”

“okay…okay..” he started to trail off with his words as his thumb ran back and forth on your cheek. “before i do this, i just wanna let you know that if you’re uncomfortable, please tell me, and we’ll be done. won’t have to speak of it ever again. promise.”

he was very sweet. sure, he was awkward, but he put your comfort and pleasure first. it made you feel happy and safe.

he went back to softly kissing you as his hand went slightly under your shirt and rubbed your waist, just above your pants. soft, delicate touches.

as he unbuttoned your pants, he tapped your hips twice, signaling for you to lift them up. as you did, he tugged your pants down at an agonizingly slow pace. he was such a fucking tease.

his eyes became infatuated with your lace underwear you were wearing. the way it clung to your hips was driving him mad. he hoped you couldn’t tell how crazy you were making him. he toyed with the fabric as you smiled.

“as much as i love these,” he snapped them on your hips. “i’m gonna have to take them off. is that okay with you?”

you felt so safe, knowing how tender he was being. he didn’t want to fuck this up. you lifted your hips. “that’s more than okay with me, josh.” you played with a handful of his hair.

he dragged your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening cunt to him. he audibly gasped, he couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. sure, he always thought you were sweet, and even fantasized about doing things like this to you, but he didn’t think it’d ever happen.

he was lost in thought, staring at your cunt. you started to get insecure, closing your legs. “josh, stop staring.” you pleaded.

he shook his head. “sorry, you’re just…so beautiful. i can’t believe it.” he thumbed little circles on your inner thigh.

“can i…feel you? down there, i mean?” he asked. god, he was so awkward it was funny.

you nodded your head. “yeah. please.”

his fingers started inching closer and closer to where you needed them most. suddenly, he ran one through your slit, barely touching your clit. you shuddered. that felt good.

“fuck…you’re so wet. you’re so hot.” he ran his finger slowly around your clit, seeing if he’d get any reactions from you. you silently gasped.

“that..that felt really good. please keep doing that.” you felt so good right now. no guy had ever focused on making you feel good before. this was new. you liked it.

“god, please moan for me. love the little noises y’make.” josh was rubbing your clit a bit faster, making you let out a quiet moan.

“f..fuck. feels good. really good.” feeling that little area constantly stimulated was the ticket. you hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

“can i…can i put a finger in?” he asked, slowing down his aggression on your clit.

you furiously nodded your head, your pussy clamping down on nothing. wanting to be filled. by him.

“please, please josh.” you said, getting lost in the pleasure. you let out a grunt as he slowly inserted a finger inside you.

“fuck, it’s only one finger but you’re so tight, fuck.” he started to ramble as he moved his finger in your wetness. you squirmed a bit. it felt so good, his thick finger getting lost in you.

“m’ gonna put another one im, ‘kay?” he asked, prodding another finger to your tight hole. you nodded, to which he slowly put it in. you groaned at the tight stretch.

“you good?” he asked. he wanted this to be good for you. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“yeah, was just..new, was all. please keep going. feels good.” you went on.

he did just that. he curled his fingers inside you, pumping them at a quick pace. that, with stimulation he was putting from his thumb to your clit, was making you moan left and right. you felt something stirring inside you.

“god, you’re so cute like this…should’ve done this sooner.” he gushed, turning you on even more.

“fuck, m’close.” you panted.

as soon as the feeling met you, it left as he pulled his fingers out of you.

you looked up at him, confused. “why’d you do that?” you asked.

he started to sink down. “as much as i was getting into that, i wanna see you cum on my tongue.” he kissed your thighs.

you felt the wetness pool inside you even more once he said that. god, you couldn’t get that image out of your head now.

“please, fuck, josh. make me cum on your tongue.” you pleaded as he slowly trailed to your inner thighs, giving them a lot of attention. you had taken him for the thigh guy, but not to this extent.

“since you asked so nicely…” he lowered his head, taking a long lick to your cunt, you releasing a pornographic moan.

“fuck…feels s’good josh…oh my god.” you had never felt this type of pleasure anywhere, and here he was, giving it to you like his life depended on it.

he gave a light kiss to your clit before lightly tracing his tongue over it, testing the waters. once he heard you becoming a moaning mess, he licked it with more vigor, wanting to pull these moans out of you.

the stimulation felt like no other, him focusing on making out with your clit and entrance. he pulled your thighs closer to his face as he licked at more of your slick.

you pulled at his hair, letting out breathy moans. he groaned at this. hard. right into your cunt, which felt so fucking good. you could feel your back arch off the bed as he lapped into your juices, him tonguing your clit. your nails scratched at his scalp as that familiar pit in your stomach came back.

“josh…so close…holy shit.” you moaned as his tongue swirled around you.

“please, come on my face. please.” he pleaded. the vibrations his voice sent to your core sending you even closer. “wanna make you feel better than you ever have. come on my tongue.”

one final stroke of his tongue lead you to your peak, your thighs tightening around his face. you let out incoherent babbles as you came on him. he continued to lick you as you rode out your high.

once you calmed down, you looked down at him, catching your breath. he had slick all over his face and wore a dopey smile. “are you okay?” he asked.

“never better.” you replied. “that felt so fucking good josh. thank you. so much.” you caressed his cheek.

“i hope it’s not too weird to tell you i enjoyed that.” he had a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

“oh! not at all. it was amazing. i can’t thank you enough.” you smiled, laying onto the pillow.

“no, i can’t thank you enough. you always stay by my side and always fix my messes. this is the least that i could do.” he said as he handed you a glass of water that was sitting on the nightstand, which you took.

“i’ll always be here for you, if you ever wanna do shit like this again, or even something soothing like a massage.” he added.

you put the glass of water down, hugging him. “you’re so sweet, josh. i appreciate it so much. you’re such a good person, i really hope you know that.”

“anything else you need?” he asked.

“take a nap with me for awhile?” you asked. you had gotten very sleepy.

“of course.” he get under the covers, cuddling you and stroking your hair. “i’ll do anything for you, i hope you know that.”

you nuzzled into his chest, getting comfortable. “you too, joshy.” you mumbled as you started to fall into a deep sleep.

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a/n: hi guys first(ish) post. hope u enjoyed :p pls send requests as well! i’m so bad at ideas

#josh futturman smut #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #future man smut

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silencesscreams · 2 years ago

Text

high infidelity

peter parker x f!reader

you know there’s many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough.

warnings: college!, cheating?, toxic relationships, drinking, kissing, making out, SMUT, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, teeny tiny bit of angst, choking, oral ( f. receiving), no use of protection (please be careful and use protection irl), nicknames like princess or baby, cuddles, aftercare??

an: this happens after the whole nwh incident, so they are both 18+ AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVE COLLEGE! + PETER

it was 6 in the morning, you were brushing your teeth as your phone started to ring.

‘chris <3’ was written on the screen, along with a picture of him sticking his tongue out, that goddamn photo, it mocked you. you eyed your phone for a while before picking up, you had a fight last night, you didn’t remember the reason though. probably something you said, you hadn’t been seeing him in person for a few days now, you had been spending the winter break at your grandmothers. going back to uni on that same day you fought. chris studied there too, but he was on another level. he had come from dozens of private schools, uniforms and everything else in the deal, his acceptance was guaranteed on his last name. maybe it all was just a game for him.

“hey, did i wake you up?” he questioned, once you put the phone on speaker.

“hi chris. you didn’t, is everything alright?”

“yeah, just wanted to check in. you haven’t texted me since that talk we had” it wasn’t a talk. it was him screaming on the phone with you, like you had killed his entire family and burnt down his house, when you had just told him you felt sorry about not getting accepted on the internship at the stark industries, and talking about how peter parker, a guy in your hall that had gotten accepted when he was in high school.

“yeah… sorry about what i said, i know how you feel about me being friends with guys and all. and we never even really talked babe, he was just my biochemistry partner last semester.” you apologized, not wanting to discuss this at the time, maybe you’d just let it go. it was no use anyways. the relationship had been falling apart for a while now.

“it alright. just don’t do it again. ‘gonna get breakfast at the diner with lucas and the boys, so ill talk to you later, alright? text you when i get there.”

“sure” you replied as he hung up. maybe you should break up, just rip the band aid off, you know? it was clear that it would happen sooner or later. it was stupid to keep it like that, all the fighting was just idiotic.

when you got to the chemistry lecture, you got to your usual seat, middle row third seat. you spent a few minutes biting the inside of your cheeks while checking your phone from minute to minute. you hated when he did that. you couldn’t quite find a way to finish your relationship and not end up being crucified, you felt in high school again. all the parties, homework, relationship issues. you could feel so impotent around him, like everything you say is wrong and he’ll always know better than you because he went to ivy-

“hey, y/n, right?” you heard a male voice say, turning around to face yourself with peter parker.

“y-yeah. peter?” you replied, looking at him smiling.

“that’s me. is this seat taken? its always nice to be around a familiar face so…” he asked, pointing to the seat on your left, that was occupied by your backpack.

“oh, right, no its not taken!” you answer quickly removing your things from the chair so he can sit down, trying to be as nice as possible. he quickly sat down, eyeing you in awkwardness.

“hear you applied for the stark memorial thing, that’s nice of you!” he smiles, taking out his notebook. “sorry, uhm, i forgot my pencil… so could you maybe…?”

“oh sure! absolutely!” you had gotten lost in your own sea of thoughts smiling at him. ever since you’ve met peter you’ve felt something about him. maybe now your relationship is almost over you could maybe have a shot, you don’t know at what, but you could.

mid presentation, peter slips you a note. something he was afraid to say, but felt the urge.

‘wanna go to a party next week?’

you look at him, right next to you with an intrigued smile.

‘where?’

you write, and quickly give it back to him.

‘john’s, first floor of your dorms building. it’ll be around nine, i can bring you as an extra if you’d like.’ when he gives it back, you immediately feel bad, having to turn him down like this.

‘sorry peter, just remembered i’m going out with my boyfriend that night. its our anniversary, so sorry. would love to go, though!’ you give the note back with an empathetic smile. you can see that he feels a bit embarrassed, you hate it.

for the rest of the lecture he’s absolutely quiet, you can feel him eyeing you, some sort of feeling you couldn’t quite decipher.

as the teacher started to close up, he gave you a piece of paper.

“my number, if you ever need it. feel free to text.” he smiles at you, picking up his bag and leaving. maybe you should text, just maybe.

it was around half past eight when you realized something, your boyfriend wasn’t coming. in fact, he stood you up.

‘fuck you chris. this is it.’

well, you needed to text him something, maybe it was the heat of the moment, or just an impulsive thing. you only realized what you were doing when peter picked up.

“hello?” he said over the phone.

“hi peter, its y/n, is that invite still up?” in the past week, the two of you had been talking a lot, mostly texting. you met up in a starbucks twice to work on homework, but that was mostly it. sure, you’d developed a small crush, but you still had a boyfriend. but maybe that wasn’t the situation anymore.

“y-yeah, can i pick you up? is everything alright?”

“sure. ill be ready in five, see you soon.” you hang up, deciding it is go time, no matter what was going to happen after, this was your shot at it. maybe you could have some fun. he was always fun.

a few minutes later, you were locking you door as he waited for you to go with him.

“hope you didn’t have to cancel with anyone for this, sorry for the mast minute call.” you apologize, putting your keys in your purse.

“oh its fine dont worry, i wasn’t planning on bringin anyone else.” he smiled at you, while walking. you could tell he’d sprayed on some perfume and that his hair was still damp, you found it sweet he put effort in to getting ready for the night out. “what happened to your date with chris?” he questioned, almost puking the words out, he seemed nervous about it.

“oh, hm, i guess i got stood up. sorry, that makes you seem like a second option, but i truly wanted to go so i remembered and i dont want you to-“

“its alright, y/n. i get it, hes an asshole for standing you up like that.” he interrupted your blabbering.

“yeah, i guess he is.”

“what do you want? on me, please!” he says loudly, ao you could hear him through the music, he took a sip out of his beer, staring at you.

“just a shot! i hate the taste of beer, no offense though!”

“nome taken, sweetie.” he looks over your shoulder, and you can see a frown forming on his face. “you wanna go somewhere else? i dont feel like this’ll go well.” he says, his voice a bit lower now.

“what do you mean?” you say, so you turn around and you see him. chris. casually smoking, with a girl by his side and his free hand on her thigh. “seriously? fuck him.” you mutter, looking over at peter.

“no, its fine, dont worry about me.” you smile, the shots are delivered and you quickly take one. the taste of vodka and a bit of lemon going down your throat, burning hot. you can see through glances they have started to make out, he probably didnt notice you yet, so he’d come up with some excuse later.

but peter needed to make sure he did.

“hey, wanna go dance? fuck chris, lets have some fun, alright?” he said, taking you by the hand to the dance floor, with a dozen bodies moving to some song you didnt quite recognize. his breath hitched over your neck as you moved with him, your arms over his neck and your hips swaying to the beat. if you ever had a doubt he was into you, that was quickly offset by the way his eyes roamed your body. focused on every inch of you. god, he loved that dress.

“your boyfriends staring…” he whispered into your ear, nipping at it.

“oh, im sure hes not my boyfriend anymore. besides, we should put on a show for him, shouldn’t we?” you smile at him, turning around and starting to grind against him. you could hear him whisper curses, and you knew you both were in for one hell of a night. you could feel him grow through your dress, eager for more, but tonight, you were having the urge to tease him (more than you already were).

you never did that to piss off chris, you did it because you wanted peter. because peter parker was just perfect for you. maybe that was how you knew this wouldn’t ever be a one time thing. as the music was fading to its end, you turned to him, looking him in the eye.

for a moment there, you got lost in him. you forgot what you were about to say. his eyes had a bit of green in them, you had never realized that, maybe because you should’ve let yourself get lost in him before.

“y/n” he calls, pulling you from your thoughts.

“yeah?” and then you realize. he was staring back, and he was close. god, was he close.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” you are both quickly interrupted by chris, trying to push peter away from you, but he was faster, dodging him.

“id ask you the same, christian. you bailed on me, what’d you want me to do, huh? stay at the restaurant? waiting patiently for you to finish fucking some other girl, and eating appetizers? because that’s the ideal night! we’re over and you know it, leave me alone.”

“and so you cheat on me with this dick because i bailed on you once? really? fuck you y/n!” he says, screaming at you, his voice was louder than the music.

“i’m cheating on you?! I cheated on YOU? chris, for the past four months you’ve ditched 15 dates, a total of 5 dinners, two breakfast occasions and 8 lunches in the dining hall, honestly, where were you? why couldn’t you just send a fucking text? what? were you just too busy in bed with some other girl? because you sure as hell are missing tons of classes, there’s gotta be an answer right? fuck you chris. just leave me alone.” you scream back, if this was the last time he screamed at you, you sure as hell wouldn’t take it all in. he makes his usual, but more extreme, i want you to die face and walks away, slamming on to you purposefully as he walks.

in a matter of seconds you see peter punching chris, and you’re instantly shocked because you never saw peter as a guy who fights, and you were two times more shocked once you se chris falling to the ground.

god, was peter hot in that moment. he ran his hand through his hair.

“come on, lets get out of here.” he says, his eyes a bit darker now. and you were in, you were in for all of it.

“sorry, i know punching exes is more of a 5th date kind of thing.” he says, hissing as you put his dominant hand in a bucket of ice.

“i’m okay with it.” you said, leaning against the cold tiles of peter’s bathroom wall. after the ‘fight’ you needed to take care of him, and so you decided to kill two birds with one stone, going back to his place.

“just to clarify, i don’t usually get in to fights. ever. but i don’t know, him slamming in to you like that? god, y/n, he’s such an asshole.” peter said looking at the door to his room, seeing it quickly open and close, it was his roommate.

“can i talk to him for like 5 minutes tops?” he asks, his brows furrowed. you nod, smiling at him.

he leaves the bathroom, closing the door after him. you could hear him whisper to his friend.

“please, steven just leave for a few hours just do me a favor, man!”

“who do you have here? please don’t tell me its chris’s girl because he’ll kick your ass” there was a pause. “you are so dead.”

“they broke up, please let me try please!”

“i’ll sleep at carson’s, but i swear to god, if it goes bad for you i’m not covering for your ass.”

“fair enough! thank you thank you thank you!” you giggle at his excitement, so you hike your dress up, and continue sat on the bathroom floor, making sure he could see a glimpse of your underwear once he walked in.

peter was sweet and perfect for you, but you never imagined yourself in that situation, and to be fully honest, you were loving it.

when he walks in to the bathroom again, you try your hardest to not blush because damn it, all he said was “hi” and you’re 3 seconds away from taking off all of your clothes and kissing him.

he sits next to you, eyeing your thighs. he wonders if you were dressed up like that once you called him, or if you had changed to see him. he surely hoped that dress was for him, because he was so jealous of chris in that moment. every day he was jealous of chris, not because he felt inferior, because chris could see you like that. because chris could hear you moan his name. peter never wanted someone so bad in his entire life.

“it was just steven, you remember him right? from biochem?” you nod, staring at him for a while now.

“do you, uhm, need any more ice?” you ask, looking at his red knuckles, trying to focus on something else (which obviously doesn’t work).

“why’d you call me?” he asks abruptly.

“what?”

“why did you call me ?”

“because i could trust you, i guess, i don’t know.” you answer, feeling a bit ashamed.

“why’d you leave him? i mean, after all this time? you knew about all his bullshit didn’t you?”

“peter, once you just appeared back into my life i took it as a sign, i mean, staying with him was killing me. you know him, right? you went to school with him”

“yeah i did, but it just doesn’t make sense to me, what are we? i’m not just someone you can call when your boyfriend’s not around, i’m sorry to be rude but i’m not that guy, y/n, and if that’s what you’re looking for, i don’t want it.” “peter. i want you okay? you’re the only person i want, the only person i’ve wanted for a while now. he never loved me enough, hell, he never loved me. i don’t want him, i want you. please, just believe me in me, please.” you say quickly, trying to get all your feelings out, though they could never be translated to words, he stares at you, wondering what to do next. and so he kisses you.

it starts off as a soft thing, a delicate and sweet kiss. you part your lips, waiting for him to reciprocate. and so it turns into a passionate and messy kiss, your tongues intertwining and you could taste him, you could taste his minty breath. you could taste peter fucking parker. and with that, you don’t waste any time.

your hands drift off to his hair, tugging on it, kissing him desperately. you feel his hands roaming your waist, he starts kissing your neck, nipping at it, whispering onto your skin.

“you have no idea for how long i’ve wanted you, fuck…” he whispers, helping you up and bringing you towards his bed, hands on your ass and not stopping his kisses on your neck, he sits you on bed, his knee aiming towards the inside of your thighs, he takes his shirt off and his jeans had already fell to the carpet, you couldn’t help but smile, he was so pretty.

“i saw what you did there, don’t think i didn’t notice.” he says, referring to the was you looked in the bathroom.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about” you whisper through a moan, as he starts kissing your chest, pulling your dress down and unclipping your bra.

“don’t lie to me, you know better then that…” he says, looking at you with those eyes, he quickly starts sucking onto your left nipple.

while he works on your tits with his mouth, his right hand is headed towards your lace panties, only playing with the hem of it.

“that alright, princess?” you nod a yes in answer. “i wanna hear you say it.” “fuck, yes, its great, peter… please.” you answer in the midst of moans.

“good. do you like this? did you get what you wanted, huh?” he asks, kissing your thighs, everywhere but not where you most needed him, he was teasing you.

“y-yeah, i wanted you so bad, please.” you say, hands trailing off to his hair again, you could feel your panties getting wetter by the second, and he knew that too.

he takes them off slowly, teasing you more and more.

“so wet, all for me, baby?” peter asks, kissing the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks.

“ yes, pete, all for you, please…” you nod, desperately, needing him more and more.

“what’d you want, huh? tell me, y/n.” he asks, looking at you with doe eyes, spreading your legs for him to see more. he was loving to see you like this, he needed it again and again every day and it was only just beginning.

“i… i need you to touch me, please, taste me, please” you ask, feeling your face getting hotter, his hands roaming your waist, you can feel your stomach sink with need.

“that was all you needed to say, smart girl” he answers, licking a broad stripe from top to bottom, he tasted all he could. “you’re so pretty honey, so fucking pretty"

peter inserts a finger in, causing you to moan, you could feel his grin over your clit. sucking on to your bud, you couldn’t believe you’d spent all this time without this side of him. as he stretches you out, inserting another finger, you feel as if you touched heaven and came back. you had never felt this way, with anyone. it was him.

“fuck!” you moan as he brings a third finger into the equation, his mouth and hands working together, just for you.

“peter i’m so close please” and just with that, he stops, leaving you empty and eager for more. and just like that he’s on top of you again, kissing you eagerly, making you get a taste of yourself. his dominant hand on your neck, squeezing it softly, just enough.

“you’re so fucking hot” he whispers against your lips, you can feel his grin on your skin as he kisses your neck again, nipping and leaving marks all over. your pussy aching for him, you needed him inside you so so so bad.

“peter” you whisper, trying to get his attention, though he seems very entertained by your neck and how mane hickeys he could leave.

“yeah?” he immediately stops, looking at you, his brows furrowed.

“i need you inside me. i need your dick.” you say, getting more red, his lips swollen and pink, he looks beautiful. his hair messy, you wanted him so bad.

“yeah? you need my dick?” he asks, teasing you, a smirk forming itself on his face.

“please, peter. i need you so much” you say, nodding with your words. he looks at you with his eyes shiny. he takes himself out of his underwear, you’d already seen his bulge but you still were surprised. he starts aligning himself to your hole, tapping his tip on your clit, teasing you.

“so pretty like this, all for me” he says, slowly pushing in, “fuck…” he sighs, you moan trying to adjust to his size. he feels like heaven inside you. he starts thrusting lightly into you.

“harder… please i need you so bad, please, peter.” you say, looking at him over you with doe eyes, a smirk forms on his face, hearing you say those words.

“thats all you needed to say, princess.” he says, slamming into you quickly. You moan out unrecognizable words, a mix of “fuck” with “ohmygod” and “peter”. he was so fucking good, slamming into you, whispering curses, using his free hand to stimulate your clit. you were almost there, reaching your high, as you started to clench around him.

“no, don’t. not yet.” he says firmly, still pounding into you.

“please…” you ask, looking at him with those doe eyes again.

“no.” he answers again. “i want to cum with you.” he slams into you again, harder this time. picking up his pace, when suddenly his right hand is on your neck, squeezing it slightly.

“this okay?” he asks, you nod a yes. he’s pounding into you, you’re loving it. he has the power over you and you have to admit, you’re more turned on now than you ever were in your relationship with chris. you weren’t going to be able to hold back any longer, scratching his back with your nails, leaving marks all over.

“please, peter, i need to cum so bad please!” you beg, he looks at you with green eyes, brows furrowed.

"please princess, please cum for me." he says, his thumb not stopping at your clit, as you’re moving your hip with his. it takes no more than a few seconds until you're reaching your peak and moaning loudly. it's different from anything you've ever felt and you're trembling, moaning into peter's shoulder and leaving little crescent marks on his back from your nails. you could feel him twitch as you clench around him, his cum leaking inside you, carrying you through your high.

“fuck, so good all for me. my little slut.” he whispers while grunting and squeezing your neck more and mora tightly. your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. God, was he good.

as soon as he finished, he dropped over you, his sweaty body coverings yours. you feel incredibly empty when he pulls out and lays beside you.

“you were so good.” he says, getting himself together and snuggling himself beside you. “i’ll clean you up in a bit, can we just stay like this a little?”

“sure.” you say, smiling, knowing it wouldn’t be a one time thing.

#peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker x fem #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader #back from my slump thank you very much #I LOVED WRITING THIS OMFG #lila writes #silencesscreams #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker x you

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captaincapsicle83 · 10 months ago

Text

The Stark Internship

The Avenger Series - Part One

Masterlist

"Yes he should be-" The nice blonde lady said, possibly the same one you spoke to on the phone. Her voice sounded familiar. She had told you when to arrive, 10:30 am.

Arrive where? The Stark Tower, house of Stark Enterprises. A prestigious company ran by the man who had become the youngest CEO to take hold of a company, after his father's death when he was around 20 years old.

The nice blonde lady was taking you up the glass elevator, and through it, you got a view of the city. In all its trashy reality, you found it quite beautiful. Of course, thats coming from someone raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Canadian town.

Well, not really raised. That wasn't the right word the way you spent your childhood. No, it was the house you lived in when you weren't in a boarding school, when you weren't at an awards ceremony, and when you weren't being interviewed for being a "Child Prodigy."

The elevator opened up to a pristinely kept floor, the tunes of ACDC blasting through your eardrums. You thought the traffic on the street was loud, yet this was like thunder clapping in your head.

"Hold on, Sweetie," The blonde woman touched your arm, her voice kind. It's turns shrill and seems to be full of anger as she screams, "TONY!"

Your hands go up to your ears at the blindsiding change of energy. You drop them just as quickly, shaking them as you follow the woman, and her clicking heals.

"So, you go to MIT?" She asks you, voice kind again. You had been so distracted when she told you her name, all you could come up with were states. It was definitely a state, but which one...

Maryland?

"Uhm...yeah. I- I got a letter, and a scholarship to go there. And uh... My guidance counselor wanted to set me up for an internship at a tech company," You were explaining, and she seemed genuinely interested as the two of you walked through what seemed to be the towers lab-area floor. "I...I got a lot of offers, but uh...I picked this one. It seemed..."

You voice trailed off ad you walked through automatic doors, that opened up to a room filled with things you'd dreamed of, and seen in magazines and on TV. It was a tech geeks wet dream, and you were guilty of the stereotype.

"Different," you finished your sentence, barely audible.

You were mostly focused on mechanical engineering. You planned to double major in something after those four years were up (you were two years in). You hadn't picked what yet.

You had started at MIT at 16 (technically 15, you had a late birthday). Although, you had graduated from secondary school officially at 13.

You had wanted to go to a real college, in person, not just online like your mother wanted. You wanted the experience.

You wanted to be in the world.

Also, you ran track for MITs team. Just for fun. And for the record, you were good.

The music on this floor seemed to originate, and be the loudest, in this room.

"TONY!" You regrettably flinch again at the unexpected snap of noise.

The man working at a silver table seemed unbothered, although you got the notion he heard her.

Half of Manhattan heard her.

You could now see the clutter of the lab. The tools scattered hazardously over all the surfaces. Projects, both finished and seemingly discarded ones, lay everywhere, in their own heaps.

The woman clicks a button on the wall, and the music dies away. Not looking up from the panel he was working on, the brown haired man says, "Don't turn down my music. We've been over this."

"Well, Tony, your intern is here, and I'm not just gonna leave her on your doorstep like a lost puppy," The blonde lady's eyes roll, and her tone makes you understand that, whoever she is, she's probably the most reasonable, sensible person around here.

Tony abandons his project to spin around in his stool to face you.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, why didn't you alert me that my intern was here?" He looks up at the ceiling, as if expecting Jesus to answer.

And he does.

"Sorry sir, but, you've threatened me many times that you don't like me speaking over your music."

Oh no. Oh God. Jesus is here, in the ceiling, and he's British. You always knew stealing candy from that blind priest would catch up to you.

"Then turn the music off."

"The music is off, sir."

"Are you serio-!?"

"Sir, your intern is here."

Tony gives the ceiling a nasty look, scoffing, before clapping his hands and turning his attention towards you.

"Jesus is British?" You ask, getting all your priorities straight out of the gate.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. It's Just A Rather Very Intelligent System," Tony smirks, looking pleased with himself.

You blink. You wonder why you have to think about blinking so often. "It's an acronym."

"Oh goodie. Thank you Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome."

Tony sighs for a good ten seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose, before gathering himself. "Take a seat, Mr. Starks class is starting."

You looked around the lab. Among the clutter, and among the hazards, you came to the conclusion that the only seat was the one Stark was sitting at, a poor excuse of a stool.

"There aren't any," You say, in an even tone. Tony was perplexed, how you had done basically nothing, yet stepped on every nerve he had.

"Then...lesson one! Build a chair," He said gleefully.

"I didn't sign up for a woodworking class," you cross your arms, and the smug smile drops from his face. The first emotion you expressed besides indifference, and it just had to be snarky.

You just had to be like him.

You earned a seat at the table. Minor correction- on the table. You pushed aside a very expensive looking piece of equipment, and it clattered to the floor.

You hopped up onto the surface, and smiled at his blank face.

"What the hell?" You shrug, and he waves it off, turning back to his work. "How old are you."

"Eighteen...next month," you say, picking at your fingertips, but also watching his project closely. He seemed to work on autopilot, like he didn't have to think at all.

"Hmm," He says, nodding, with a smile on his face. You got the notion he liked you. You annoyed him, you confused him, yet he liked you. "Go to any cool parties recently?"

He was getting you something to work on. He had a basic blueprint, a holographic sketch, that you were admiring as he gathered your tools.

"I've never been to a party," you say. You take the titanium alloy, and lay it out in front of you as you grab a tape measure. You spread it over Tony's chest, and he spreads his arms out for you as you do so.

You could've been a tailor, you thought. Move to Romania, or Sokovia, live in a quaint little shop. Nonetheless, measurements were elementary to you, as were most things. Like astrophysics or quantum science.

"Well, what do you and your geek burger friends do then," He pops a cherry twizzler in his mouth and you turn back to your titanium. He watches you hesitate. Watches you fumble on where to set the tape measure, before you speak again.

"You should make it red and gold, can we do that? Like Captain America was red, white, and blue. It's about the marketing process of things. The capitalism in it," you say, clearly interested in the propaganda of things. You pull up old Captain America adds from the forties on your clear pop up screen.

Tony analyzed you for a bit, long enough for you to turn your head since you were clearly expecting an answer. "Yeah," He nodded. "Red and gold works. Whatever floats your boat Miss America."

You smiled warmly, it lighting up your whole face. You had moved onto the repulser technology Tony had planned.

People weren't easy. They weren't predictable like other things in the world. You couldn't use stoichiometry to figure out what would happen when you started a conversation with someone.

And Tony Stark may not have been predictable either, in fact he was the opposite. He was impulsive, if nothing else. But you liked talking to him. It felt...

It felt like what having a friend felt like. What you remember it feeling like.

And Tony seemed to like you too, and although you couldn't fathom as to why, you accepted it.

Embraced it, actually. His dialect and diction rubbed off on you.

☆ ☆ ☆

"I don't think it's the best idea," you were saying. Tony stood in front of you, dressed in the titanium alloy suit you had helped create. One of many, someday hoped to be millions.

"I do, you trust me, don't you?" His little metal helmet tilted to the side. The tone of voice he was using was the one you recognized as how he got Pepper to do things he wanted. Pepper being the blonde woman who had first greeted you.

"Do you trust me?" You asked back. In your left hand was a repulsor, ready to beam a bright light.

"A suit of armor around the world," Tony had said. "That's what I want. To just...make everything..."

"Controlled?"

"Protected, y/n. When horrible things come, not only would we be able to stop it, but they'd be protected in the end."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I trust you. With my life. More than anyone. You're the smartest person I know, and you know better than anyone how to work these kinds of things."

"You're the hero. I'm just...I'm not sure I'd be so good at that."

"You don't need to be so scared."

"Im not scared. But I'm also not a hero."

" You can be."

So here you stood, armed for target practice. And for whatever bright idea he seemed to always have, Tony's newest was making himself the target.

"Of course. With my life," He makes a motion of crossing his heart, making you laugh a little. "Okay Wonder Kid. Ready, set-"

You shoot from your hand before the go comes, knocking Tony to the side, and a hole in the back wall of his mansion.

"Oops," you say sheepishly. Tony is laughing inside his suit, you can tell, and Pepper suddenly comes out onto the lawn.

"What is going-! Tony, what is this?" She looks at him, as he steps out of the suit, and towards you.

"Target practice," you shrugged, as Tony was adjusting the repulsor loosely strapped to your hand.

"Isn't she doing great?" Tony cooed at you, as if you were a small dog learning tricks.

"NO!" Pepper gasped.

"I told I didn't think it was a good idea using one of these outside of a suit," you say. The two of you were barely holding it together over Pepper's distraught state.

"Then why'd you do it?" He says in a mocking tone, obviously knowing why.

"'Cause I trust you...Clearly a horrible decision."

"Yeah, my wall thinks so."

☆☆☆

You had a room in the tower. It was empty, mostly, but not as bare as when you had gotten here. You took a lot of pictures, that Tony allowed (did not have the knowledge of) you to print on the tenth floor. You hung them up on your walls, and on your bedframe. It made the place less lonely.

It was dark out, and you were sitting on your bed, one leg hanging off. The overhead light was off, but your small bedside lamp illuminated your writing space.

It was an idea you had when you were young. To keep notes on the people you met. Things you wanted to remember about them, their personalities, who they were. It helped your brain, to organize things better.

You were sure most people kept lists like these on a subconscious level. And maybe one day you wouldn't feel the need to write that Tony Stark was genuis or a billionaire. Or that he was your friend.

But you liked the safety net. You liked knowing that it was something you could turn to. Something you could reread, something that ensured you would never forget.

Next part

#iron man #marvel #avengers x reader #marvel mcu #tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel wip #avengers au #the avengers #marvel x reader

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thatonegirlfromwattpad · 1 year ago

Text

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 (2.2𝙠 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨)

"𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘻𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴"

𝟏𝟖+

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You are Matt Murdock's intern at his law office and one night you both stay late to catch up on his current caseload. You'd had an innocent crush on him since you started working under him, but you never thought the feelings would be reciprocated. What could possibly come from staying late at the office alone with Mr. Murdock?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, sexual content, age gap, praise kink, soft!Matt, unprotected sex, asking for consent (swoon)

You knew you should've been focusing more on your work all day, but you couldn't stop staring at Mr. Murdock.

Ever since your internship started two weeks ago, you immediately had developed a crush on him, despite him being your boss — and not to mention, at least ten years older than you. But you didn't have much control over your feelings when it came to his brown hair, rounded glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose, and his soft smile.

So now here you were, staying extremely late at the law office with him, all because you couldn't manage to finish your work like you were supposed to.

Technically, this was his fault.

"Is everything okay?"

Mr. Murdock's voice pulled you from your distracting thoughts, your eyes lifting from the stack of files in front of you to peek up at his figure hovering over you, your heart already hammering against your chest at his close proximity.

"I'm sorry?" you squeaked.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he stated coolly, his hands resting on top of his walking stick. "And you've been distracted today, are you okay?"

He was always attentive, kind. There were days when he would bring you coffee in the morning, when it should be you bringing it to him. Lunch was always on him, you hadn't had to pay for lunch since you had first arrived, and he always walked out with you after a work day to ensure you arrived at your car safely.

It was no wonder you couldn't focus.

"I'm just, um," you laughed softly, brushing your hair back over your shoulder nervously. "I'm just distracted, I'm sorry. I shouldn't let that interfere with work."

The corner of his lip lifted faintly.

"By what?"

His brazen question took you off guard, your lips parting faintly as you blinked apprehensively up at him — although he couldn't see it. Your hands receded from the desk into your lap, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your plaid skirt.

"Nothing, it's nothing," you reassured him in a weak voice. "It won't happen again."

If he could see, he would see the way your cheeks were flushed a bright, crimson color as you struggled to compose your shaky breathing. You were thankful that he couldn't notice the way your legs were bouncing anxiously or the the way you gnawed at your lip.

"You heart is practically thumping out of your chest, I wouldn't say that it's nothing."

Huh?

Your eyebrows pulled together instantly as you gawked up at him now, having trouble comprehending exactly how on Earth he could even know just how hard your heart was pumping in your chest. This only made it somehow pound harder, ringing echoing inside of your ears as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"H-how do you—"

"When I lost my sight," he explained collectedly, a faint smile dancing on his lips. "It ... heightened everything else."

You gulped.

"So, you can hear my heartbeat?"

"When it's beating as rapidly as yours is right now," he chuckled softly. "Yes."

Great.

Quickly standing up from the desk, you smoothed out your skirt as you swallowed thickly. "Yeah, sorry, it's really nothing. I'm just going to use the bathroom right quick."

As you swiftly attempted to dart around him and escape to the bathroom and hide, his hand reached out to grip your arm gently, stopping you in your tracks as his head turned to face you.

"Don't run away," he pleaded faintly. "Stay."

Your mind was spinning as you peeked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as the warmth from his touch radiated across your entire body — goosebumps following closely behind.

His hand loosened, his fingers trailing down your beige sweater before reaching up to pull his glasses from his face, revealing his light brown eyes that you had never seen before. The swirls of sepia colored specs only made your obvious nervousness grow as you stared up at his soft eyes.

"Tell me what's making you so nervous," Mr. Murdock urged gently. "You're fidgeting, your chest is heaving, I can hear your unsteady breathing."

"Uh," you paused, your tongue darting out to lick your dry lips. "I don't—"

"Don't lie to me, sweet girl."

A breathless laugh escaped your lips, butterflies swarming in your stomach from the pet name, making you clench your legs together as they spiraled between them — straight to your core. You examined the way he smirked down at you, his eyes resting along the edge of your face, unable to stare directly at you.

"Do I make you nervous?" he continued when you failed to respond.

"Yes," you rasped.

His smile deepened as his hand lifted, his finger caressing your nose, your cheekbones, your jawline, studying you slowly. Your breath halted in your throat at his touch, chills trailing down your spine as you peered up at him through your thick lashes. His bearded lips were parted in awe as he grazed your skin.

"I picked up on your heartbeat the moment you stepped into my office on that first day," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your neck now, gliding lightly across your collarbone.

It took every fiber in your body not to squirm underneath his fingers, your chest heaving weakly as you caught your breath once more, your nipples pricking beneath your clothes as he tickled your skin.

And then his hands left you, reaching up to loosen the tie around his neck as he whisked it from himself, fumbling with it in his fingers as he contemplated for a moment.

"Turn around for me," he ordered lowly.

You twisted around on your heel slowly, facing the opposite direction as your nerves tingled in anticipation for what was going to happen next, biting your lip harshly as the seconds ticked by.

A gasp escaped your full lips as the tie clouded your vision, wrapping around your head as he tied it behind you, tightly against your hair.

"Now your senses will be heightened, too."

Your fingers feebly fumbled with the creases in your skirt as the hairs on the back of your neck pricked, his breath fanning across your skin as he spoke. His lips pressed carefully against your neck, making you flinch, as the pressure in your core grew. He lingered for a moment, practically giving you heart palpitations, before his lips left you.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes sir," you croaked.

A whimper left your lips as his hands brushed your hair behind your shoulders, just before his mouth found your neck once more, peppering kisses down to your collarbone slowly.

You were frozen, scared to move as his mouth devoured your most sensitive spots around your throat, scared your knees would buckle beneath you.

The goosebumps kept spreading across your skin in waves with every kiss, relentlessly making you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands gripped your waist, walking you backwards until the back of your thighs smacked against the desk you were previously manning.

He was right — your senses were definitely elevated. Every little movement sparked butterflies inside of you, in your chest, your stomach, your core.

Your squeak that bubbled through your lips at the sudden movement was muffled as his mouth smashed into yours, molding feverishly as he kissed you, lifting you up onto the desk as your legs naturally wrapped around his waist.

He tasted sweet, like vanilla and faint cinnamon, reminding you of an autumn day.

His hands gripped your thighs, gliding beneath your skirt, as his fingers traced along your panty line. The feeling stirred something in you, your legs tightening around him as the wetness seeped through your panties, your tongue flicking into his mouth to taste more of him.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his tongue clashed with yours, his skilled fingers creeping beneath the lace fabric of your underwear, teasing your clit as he felt how wet you were for him.

"Mmm," he hummed, his thumb finding your swollen bud as he swirled circles against it. "This is for me?"

"Yes," you moaned, throwing your head back as he worked his fingers against you.

You hitched your legs higher as he inserted a finger inside of you, arching your back as you pressed deeper into him, needing more. He pumped his finger into you steadily, curling upwards as he did so, his thumb still working you from outside.

You could already feel pressure building inside of your core, your stomach spinning wildly as you grinded needily against his palm.

"Fuck," he breathed, adding another finger as he picked up the pace.

"More," you mumbled, your hands gripping the sleeves of his suit. "I want more."

His lips found your neck again as a moan left his mouth, his fingers slamming into you now hungrily as he pressed his hard length against you through his slacks. He was throbbing for you, pulsating against your thigh and you hadn't even done anything yet.

It felt fucking huge.

"Fuck me," you pleaded in a whine, tugging him closer as you splayed your legs desperately. "Fuck me, Mr. Murdock, please."

His teeth nipped at the crevice of your neck as you spoke, his hands leaving you suddenly, making you whimper from the loss of contact. You could hear his belt coming unfastened as he quickly tugged his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free, grazing against your entrance teasingly.

Your fingers ripped the tie from your eyes, eager to see him now.

His eyes were frantic, heavy as they searched for you, his lips parted as he panted arduously, his dick was massive — slightly intimidating you as you gawked down at it, taking your lip between your teeth.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked troubledly.

"Please," you begged once more. "I want you inside of me."

His eyebrows cinched needingly at your words, his fingers wrapping around his length as he positioned it at your entrance, sliding it up and down through your dripping folds for lubrication before pushing the tip of his cock into you.

A breathless moan left your lips as he filled you up, stretching you out as he pushed deeper into you, your hands grasping his hips and shoving slightly as the sharp sting emanated from inside of your core.

"It's so deep," you hissed, unsure if you could take all of him at once.

His hands grasped your face as he gradually made you take every inch of him, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones as you gasped from the temporary pain of him pushing himself into you fully.

"That's it, baby," he cooed, his voice faint as his chest heaved. "You're doing so good."

He paused for a few moments, allowing you to adjust to him before he started a steady pace, pumping himself into you now as his fingers tangled in your hair. The pressure inside of you was almost too much to handle now, your mouth agape as he picked up speed.

"Fuck, I'm already close," you cried out, your hands gripping his clothes. "So close."

This only encouraged him to thrust harder into you, his breath fanning across your neck as he fucked you, the sound of his moans making you clench tighter around him.

"Look at you, taking my dick like such a good girl."

The filth leaving his mouth was enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm peaking as waves of euphoria washed over you. Your legs shook as he continued to pump into you, riding out your climax as he fucked you, his speed never faltering as your juices soaked him.

Loud moans filled the room now as he pounded into you, your skin smacking against each other, your breath halting at the sensitivity that took over after your orgasm. No one had ever been so deep inside of you before, the thought alone would make you cum again.

You could feel him beginning to throb inside of you, your eyes staring up at his scrunched features, your hands finding his hips as you pulled him towards you needily with every thrust.

"You're going to make me cum," he warned shakily, his breathing uneven as he rammed into her, pressing his forehead into her chest.

"You feel so good," you cooed into his ear, flicking your tongue along his earlobe as you held him against you. "Harder, Mr. Murdock, please."

He growled into your sweater, thrusting so hard into you that the desk had scooted backwards, his hands gripping your ass as his dick twitched inside of you — filling you up as his orgasm overcame him, the sound of your mewls in his ear sending him over the edge as you milked his pulsating length.

Your chests heaved against each other as you both took a second to catch your breaths, still holding each other tightly.

His head lifted after a while, the smile had reappeared on his features, as he pecked your lips gently.

"Wanna go again?"

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #matthew murdock #charlie cox

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percywinchester27 · 2 years ago

Text

*Waves nervously* Hey, guys! It’s me... back again :)

Firstly, thank you so much for the kind messages. You folks are some of the sweetest peeps around, no kidding. I actually did make a long post explaining everything about a month back, but tumblr being tumblr glitched and the post was lost forever to the tumblr abys when I hit ‘post.’ I didn’t have it in me then to rewrite the whole thing. The gist of it is:

1. My grandmother passed away (That bit everyone knows because it was the last post I made)

2. Two days after that, I decided to mess up my life even more and end a ten-year-old kind-of relationship. People who have been following me for a while now would know about it.

3. College life got really, really hard all of a sudden. The academic pressure, unnecessarily severe HOD and crushing work burden basically left me with no time to write or be here.

4. This was my first time living by myself in a new city and I have no shame in admitting that I underestimated how much effort it is to keep yourself alive, pay the rent by yourself and adjust to living in a whole new city.

5. I got sick in the middle. Really sick. Lost 12 pounds kind of sick. It sucked.

Long story short, I feel like a different person from the one who posted the last chapter of ‘The New Mrs. Winchester.’ The girl who envisioned the story had fallen out of love long ago and clung to the series by making it a coping mechanism, to continue living in denial, afraid to spit out the words that would end the relationship. The reader in the series had a man who understood her trauma, and treated her the way she needed to be treated... and I didn’t have that in real life. The series had become an escape of sorts. But the more I wrote it, the more resentful I felt for what the reader had and what I didn’t. That’s never good, right? Starting to envy your own creation?

Then my grandmother passed. And you know that reckless self-destructive urge to wreck everything when even one thing goes wrong? Yeah, that’s what made me pick up the phone and end it. I did it by text because my voice wouldn’t hold and I couldn’t stop crying. I think I cried for hours in my tiny room. Then the next day I had to leave for a study trip so I didn’t even have the support of my friends... no shoulder to cry on. Back then, I thought I deserved to feel the pain, deserved to be alone and deal with it myself because I was hurting a good soul. It was a dark time. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

In the end, he was quite nice about it, and we ended it like two mature people with nothing but best wishes for one another. I hope he is happy in the country he wants to make his home.

It’s been five months since. I am doing so much better now. I have adjusted to the losses and recovered about ten pounds ;) I’ve also started seeing someone new. He’s very good to me :)

For the summer months, I’m back home. Agreed there’s a 45 hours a week internship, but I don’t have to fend for myself day in and day out. So, while there are no promises... I’ll do my best to get back to writing! I am hoping to get some of my writing inspiration back... So fingers crossed? ;)

If you’ve stuck around till here.... once again, thank you for not ditching my ass in the five months of radio silence. You guys are truly something.

Love always!

-Ana xoxo

#personal #hiatus end hopefully?#thank you so much for sticking around #y'all are awesome #about me

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solitaireships · 1 year ago

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Rot Day

So one of the people at my internship talked about having what she called rot days where she just sits in bed all day and watches movies/tv, reads, and plays video games and since hearing about that that has become my greatest unattainable fantasy. Since I can't have that, I'll let Thalia and Cleo have that together. Note that this was all written in like 24 hours on a whim and I didn't edit it, so there might be some typos in there!

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 989

Divider by emeraldurafreak

“Good morning, Thalia!”

The cheerful voice of Cleo is startling in the early morning, partially because it’s unusual. As Thalia mumbles, still half asleep in bed, she looks up to see her girlfriend looking far more awake than she usually does at eight in the morning. She’s always exhausted in the morning, practically having to be dragged out of bed by Thalia, but right now she’s looking awake and alert, Sebastian the rat perched on her shoulder looking just as awake. Bundled in Cleo’s arms is Thalia’s laptop, Nintendo Switch, and a couple of trade paperbacks.

“Morning?” Thalia says, more question than a statement as she sits up in bed, eyes blinking to adjust to the newly bright room. “What are you doing so… awake this early?”

“I had an idea for something fun to do today,” Cleo says, as if that explains everything.

“Could I get a clue?” Thalia asks.

Cleo sits down on the edge of the bed. She sets each of the assorted items in her arms down on the bed, spreading them out in front of Thalia. “We’re going to do a rot day.”

“Cleo, baby, that does not help me understand what you’re talking about.”

“Okay.” Cleo fully climbs into bed now, pulling the white and teal quilt onto her lap as she settles next to Thalia. “The idea is that we just sit here and do nothing. Well, not nothing, but the fun kind of nothing. Watch movies, play games, you can do some reading and writing and that kind of thing. It will be a good time for you to get to relax.”

Thalia can’t help but give a small smile at Cleo being thoughtful enough to suggest something like this. She knows that it’s easy for her to get lost in the bustle of life. Thalia always likes having something to do, always likes to be working and feeling like she’s doing something that helps others.

But her work is exhausting. She loves being a counselor, but empathy fatigue is something that she’s been dealing with more and more. And despite that, it’s hard for her to take a break. Thalia can’t blame that on her work, though, that’s instead the result of some long running anxiety issues that she’s never addressed, always preferring to talk about others’ feelings and problems than her own. Self-care has never been a strong suit of hers, and as tempting as a day of just staying in bed doing nothing sounds, even her half awake brain searches for reasons not to do it.

“I don’t know if I should be taking a day off like this,” Thalia says. She reaches over to get her glasses from the nightstand, putting them on.

“Why not?” Cleo questions, head tilting to the side. “You’re already not working today, it’s Saturday.”

“Just because I’m not at work doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do.”

“And are any of them ones you need to do right away?”

They aren’t, but Thalia doesn’t want to say that. “Well, even beyond that, literally staying in bed all day isn’t possible. We’d have to get up to, like, make dinner and stuff. And I need to get coffee in a bit or my head is gonna feel like it’s about to explode.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the coffee, I already got it started for you,” Cleo promises. “Rot day can start after you get your coffee. And we can always order food and I can ask Sebastian and the other rats to bring it to us.”

“I don’t want rats handling our food.”

Sebastian makes a noise that can only be described as sounding offended, hopping down from Cleo’s shoulder to Thalia’s lap. He looks up at her with his big black eyes, and it’s hard to resist him when he’s so obnoxiously adorable with his little backpack strapped to him.

Thalia reaches down to pet him, her fingers tracing against his soft fur. “I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Sebastian responds with a chattering noise, rubbing his head against her hand in a way she assumes means he accepts her apology.

“But I still don’t know if we should have this… rot day thing. Rotting’s not exactly a good thing that people should want to be doing,” Thalia objects.

“We can come up with a new name,” Cleo promises.

“Cleo.”

“What? What if I wanted you to stay in bed with me all day?” Cleo asks. “I’m tired. I want my girlfriend to stay with me and keep me company.”

Thalia knows exactly what she’s doing. Cleo knows that Thalia doesn’t like doing things for herself, but she does like doing them for other people. And while Thalia knows that this is just her saying something to try to convince her to take a break, she can’t force herself to say no to something that would make Cleo happy.

Thalia can never resist Cleo. And, if she were more honest with herself, she could admit that staying in bed with her all day sounds like a dream come true. It’s been a long time since she’s done anything fun, anything just for herself. She’s always too exhausted to do anything but mindlessly scroll through social media, only half paying attention to anything she’s watched.

But this could be a good thing for her. A chance to reset, and to enjoy some time with her girlfriend.

“Okay,” Thalia relents.

“Okay?” Cleo repeats, a smile on her face as she leans closer to Thalia.

“But we’re not going to order food for the rats to bring to us. We can put a pause on the rotting to go get stuff,” Thalia says.

Cleo presses a quick kiss to Thalia’s cheek. “Okay. Thank you, pretty girl.”

Thalia “hmm”s in response. But as she settles into bed, she thinks that a day off like this may be just what she needs.

#f/o community #selfship #selfship fic #safeship #🐀 total catch #🐀#💭 thalia #my writing #my posts

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imtooscaredforthis · 2 years ago

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Entrapment

Chapter Nineteen: Guilty

Mentions of: Murder, Survivor’s Guilt, Manipulation, Angst etc.

A/N: Another Angsty chapter…but don’t worry, we got some spicy stuff coming soon!

Tags: @dead-bxxxtch-walking @vandeaad @moonshineinasippycup @mama-miya @stwbwwychan @the-fandoms-georgie

“You ready for your first day on the job, rookie?” Jed asked with an excited grin. You weren’t as enthusiastic.

It’s not that you didn’t want this job, because you did, and you were so happy that you got it. To be writing the most popular papers in all of Roseville? Hell yeah. It’ll bring you even closer to success and your dream of working in Miami.

But having to write about Ghostface constantly? To think about him constantly? Especially after what just happened? He was the last thing you wanted on your mind.

Then again, maybe writing about him could help you get into his head. Find out what he’s thinking, what he’s planning. What’s his next move? Maybe you could even find out who he was.

“I guess so.” You murmured with a small smile. “Alright, we’re going to head over to a few places for some interviews.”’

“Wait, are you sure? Don’t I have to do some training or something?” You were surprised at how willing Jed was to put you to work. He must really trust you.

“You had that internship at Palm Beach Post, right? And you’ve worked around here. You know how these things work, I don’t need to train you for anything. Trust me.” He reassured you.

“Okay.” You smiled, convinced and confident, following him out to his car.

You buckled yourself into your seat, while Jed started the car. He took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly. “One of the things I do miss about you being a secretary is my coffee. Maya never gets my order right.”

“Good to know that I was a good coffee girl.” You remarked, making Jed realize how he just sounded. “Oh, _____ no- I didn’t mean-”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.” You grinned, making him laugh nervously. He pulled out of the parking lot, and drove away.

–

“So, who are we talking to?” You asked as Jed parked on the street in a small suburban neighborhood, just a few minutes outside of the city.

He gave you a look, like he was scared to answer. “This is Nate’s family home. I was thinking we could talk to him about the murders.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Jed. He’s a kid, and he just lost his mother and witnessed something extremely traumatizing.” You murmured.

“I know, but his story could spread awareness. It could motivate people to take this Ghostface matter more seriously and keep them safe. Maybe it could even get the cops to work harder on the case. And if he won’t talk to me, then maybe he’ll talk to you.” He said, tugging at your heart strings.

Jed stood at the door, giving it a few knocks. To your surprise, Nate was the one who answered it. “Hi there. Would you mind sitting down for a few minutes for an interview?”

“About my dead mom? No thanks.” With that, the boy slammed the door in his face. Jed looked over his shoulder at you, shocked. “Let me try.”

You stepped past him, taking a deep breath and ringing his doorbell. After a few rings, he went to answer it. “I told you, I don’t want-”

He stopped when he saw you, his eyes widened with surprise. You hadn’t seen him since that night, due to the overwhelming guilt you felt. What happened to him was your fault, after all.

You expected for him to get angry, to scream at you for abandoning him, for letting this happen. But he didn’t. Instead, he threw his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You hugged him back, patting his head gently. There was a bond you two shared from that night. Of trauma and loss. Of course, you didn’t lose your mother, and he didn’t provoke Ghostface, but it still felt close enough.

“I missed you.” He muttered, his voice shaky, sounding like he was on the verge of crying. “I missed you too.”

After a few long moments, you pulled away from him, wiping away a few tears you had shed on your own. “Want to talk?”

–

You and Nate sat together on the couch, while Jed sat on the reclining chair. He placed a recorder on the coffee table in the middle of the room, inserting a new cassette tape and clicking the record button.

“So, Nate. Tell me about what happened that night.”

“It was just a normal night at first. Joe had stepped out, and Mom and I were preparing for the closing shift. Jesse got there early, helping us clean up like he usually did, but ______ wasn’t there yet. Mom was in the kitchen, and I was putting all the utensils away and listening to music with my Walkman, so I couldn’t hear anything. But then, I felt this hand grab my shoulder. At first, I thought it was my Mom yelling at me for listening to music too loud, like she normally did. But it wasn’t.”

A look of fear and dread crossed his face. Jed pressed on. “Who was it?”

“It was…Ghostface. I could see his mask, and the mesh black eye and face parts, they looked so empty. Like there truly was nothing there underneath. Like he wasn’t human. I still have nightmares about it and what he did after. He grabbed me and tore the Walkman off my head, turning to my mother. She was lying on the ground, and there was blood everywhere. She was barely moving, but she was looking at me and I could see the life leaving her eyes, and I just froze.”

“And what happened next?” You asked.

“He stabbed me in the leg, and then in my side, and I remember the pain and shock coursing through me and feeling so overwhelmed that I wound up passing out. And then I woke up with _____ holding me. I keep on thinking, maybe if I did something. If I paid more attention and didn’t listen to music, things could’ve turned out differently. Maybe they’d still be alive…”

You could hear the pain in his voice. He’ll never be the same from this. “It’s not your fault, Nate.”

You put your hand on his, comforting him. What you wanted to say was that it was your fault. And he should hate you for it. If only you had listened to what Ghostface said. If it weren’t for your stupid pride, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Thank you, and thank you for saving me that night.” He told you. “I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did. I could’ve bled out if you didn’t come help me, and knowing you, you probably scared that fucker Ghostface away. You gave me a second chance, and while I miss my mom, I’m not going to waste it.”

You smiled at that. Even after everything, he’s not going to give up, and neither are you. You can’t change what happened, but you can protect him. You’re going to protect him with your life, and catch Ghostface for good.

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hashioki7 · 8 months ago

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When they fight together again

Travis Hackett stared at the figure sitting with hands clasped between their eyes. Well, to be precise, he glared. In the quiet sheriff's office, where even the rustle of clothes seemed audible, the blonde figure before him was clearly an unwelcome guest.

"If you have something to say, spit it out. I'm busy," Travis said, his voice dismissive, chilling the already frigid temperature of the office. He inwardly felt a slight pang realizing his words sounded colder than intended. Of course, he didn't want to be here with her and hoped she'd leave soon. But considering what he had done to her in the past, he thought it best to at least outwardly be as courteous as possible.

Laura looked up at him with visibly discontented eyes but said nothing. Travis, curious, observed her again with those dark eyes—eyes his mother always found unsettling—licking over him like a flame.

Given her usual demeanor, it was odd she wasn't retorting. Something was up, something quite troublesome, judging by her behavior.

Laura fidgeted with her shirt sleeve, her shoulders tense, indicating considerable nervousness. But her expression—though tense—seemed more like she was searching for the right words rather than just being nervous.

Travis had seen such expressions before. Criminals with something to hide, seeking some kind of reward by divulging information just before confession, often wore such faces.

This was going to be even more troublesome. Travis sighed inwardly, making sure not to show it on his face.

Laura's profile, bowed to avoid his gaze, suddenly flushed red. When she looked straight at him, her eyes were resolute.

"I need your help."

"…Regarding what?"

"Ryan… You remember him, right? The camp leader from that incident. He's gone missing."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Laura furrowed her brows, briefly silenced, searching for words again. Her cheeks regained their color.

"…There seems to be something supernatural involved. I don't know if it's a werewolf, but… no, probably not. But what I can say for sure is that it's not human."

"Why would you think that?"

"Ryan, you see, got into Bizarre Yet Bonafide podcast… As part of an internship, he started working for that show. Then, he went to this town rumored to have supernatural occurrences and we lost contact with him. And that town is about 20 km from here."

"Are you kidding me? After all the havoc that incident caused, after ruining people's families and homes, you still haven't learned your lesson? What are you thinking!"

Travis slammed his fist on the desk without thinking. But seeing Laura flinch, he immediately composed himself.

"No… That wasn't meant for you to hear. I apologize."

"Yeah… Well, it's natural for you to think that, given your position."

"And then? What exactly can I do? Even if the enemy is a werewolf, we don't even know its identity, right? I'm just a sheriff, not a ghost hunter."

"But you have more knowledge and experience dealing with supernatural phenomena than we do, right?"

Travis chuckled under his breath.

"Is this the first time in six months since that incident that you've come to ask for help? You're still as cheeky and presumptuous as ever."

"But you involved me in that incident, didn't you? Especially about Silas…"

The last words stabbed at Travis's heart like a knife. It seemed Laura hadn't intended to voice that. Her flushed face turned porcelain-pale, and she bit her lower lip, looking down.

An awkward silence fell between them.

"If you won't cooperate, we have other options," Laura said, her voice quiet yet determined.

"We've gathered quite a bit of evidence from that incident, us camp leaders. We'll take it all to the police and spill everything."

"Hmm… Wouldn't that trouble you more? I lost everything—my family, my home—in that incident. I have nothing left to lose. When that incident becomes public, it's your futures that will be scarred."

"Of course, we'll make sure only the parts that inconvenience us don't get out. With multiple testimonies aligned… who do you think everyone will believe?" Laura retorted.

"…Is this blackmail?"

"No… Please," Laura pleaded.

Well, it had certainly become troublesome. This time, Travis sighed deeply without trying to conceal it.

"Give me some time to think… I know time is short. I'll contact you by tonight. Where are you staying?"

"Harbinger Motel." Was it just his imagination, or did Laura's words carry a faint hint of laughter as she replied?

"Thanks, Travis." As he watched her walk away from the sheriff's office, Travis realized that deep down, he had no intention of refusing her request.

"Shit"

He frowned, clicked his tongue, and exhaled deeply, not knowing how many times he had sighed today.

#flash fiction challenge 19 #I wrote it as a prototype for a long-form story to write someday #travis x laura #Ryan is safe

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unseededtoast · 1 year ago

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Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 3/37 | Part Two & Part Four

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons...We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed."

The chains clink against the metal fixture on the desk as the handcuffs are released from my wrists. I rub them, feeling the small indents they left on my skin and stay seated though I am free from restraints. I watch Director Fury closely, knowing I'm not entirely free and am still under his command.

"I'll be right back, don't leave this room." He instructs and I remain seated, not willing to move and jeopardize the new start I have been granted. A few moments pass and he brings in a bowl of water and some plain white cloth.

"You need to wash up before you leave this room, there's no time to waste for your assignment." I grab the cloth and wet it with some of the water, cleaning off my face and hands of the dead man's blood. The water turns a dark reddish brown as I continue to wet the cloth after wiping off the blood. I wonder what can be so urgent that they're going to assign me to something only moments after I pledged loyalty. I find it very peculiar that they're giving me an assignment instead of placing me under observation for a while. For all they know I could be lying about everything, something seems off. But, I can't question it or I'll look even more suspicious.

As I finish cleaning myself up, Director Fury beckons me to follow him out of the room. I stand and follow the man,

"I want you to meet some people. They're working on a project dealing with memories. Perhaps you can enlighten them and speed the process up given your background. It would be most beneficial that our scientists understand this as much as you do. It's a time sensitive matter. But make no mistake you will be watched, and if you try anything we will handle it." He explains in an authoritative voice as he leads me through hallways. What can be so time sensitive about my work? I ponder the question and feel uneasy about what the answer may be but remain optimistic.

The Director opens a glass door, where there are two people working. I recognize one of them as an Avenger. The lab is full of top of the line equipment and the most advanced technology I've ever seen. My palms begin to sweat as memories flash through my mind, the same scenario, different years. But I know this time it's different, it has to be. There's just no way I pledged myself to repeat the same mistake all over again.

"Bruce, this is Adalyn Averina, and she's been so kind as to provide her expertise on the project." I'm grateful that Director Fury opted to leave out the grittier, less pretty details for my sake. I nod to Bruce, who I know is also the Hulk from numerous tv broadcasts I've seen over the years. I'm introduced to the other scientist as well, she's a grad student at a local university here on an internship. The Director leaves the lab wordlessly, leaving me without any specific tasking. I feel lost and very much out of place. Everything seems to be happening at a very rapid pace, and it's not only disorienting but peculiar as well. I rub my arm anxiously and look to Bruce for any sort of direction.

"Yeah, as Fury said I'm Bruce, it's nice to meet you Adalyn, welcome to the team." He warmly smiles, eroding away some of the nerves. I smile back and approach him at the table he's working at. I see he has microscope slides laid out on a table, and I try to decipher what they are.

"It's nice to meet you as well, I assume we're lab partners then?" My eyes break away from the slides and up to his, they glimmer with humor.

"Yeah, I guess you can say we're lab partners. Oh, these are all brain matter, the subject suffered from severe Alzheimer's. Tony's been on a kick about retrieving memories, some childhood trauma thing I think. It just so happened that the project aligned with Tony's interests." Bruce rambles on and I nod, following what he's saying though I don't even know what the project is specifically about, or what the goals are.

"Well, I don't mean to interrupt your own research, it's just that I've already conducted these studies. I still have more to do, but I've got this much down." I say, hoping he doesn't take offense. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Really? That's remarkable. Do you have anything published? I swear I've looked everywhere for this information." I shake my head at his question.

"No, nothing is published publicly, but I do have a substantial amount of experience under my belt. I can explain it all to you, if you want of course. I'm not trying to stop you from doing your own research." I say, becoming more comfortable in his presence.

"By all means, please. I'm all ears." He sits down on a stool and I nod.

I explain the very basics to him, the parts of the brain and their functions, and how diseases such as Alzheimer's wear away at the brain matter. I briefly explain that with electrical stimulation, some of the parts of the brain can be programmed, in a way, and that this method can be used for several different uses. I explain that memory retrieval is very difficult and usually has to be handled on a case-to-case basis; treatment has to be tailored to the individual's experience, it's not a cookie cutter situation. I spare the details of what my experience is, and thankfully he doesn't ask. Hopefully he assumes my experiments were conducted on lab rats. He sits in silence after I finish my spiel, he rubs his chin as he thinks it all over.

"I think you might be the answer Tony's been looking for. I don't know where he is right now, but when he gets back you'll have to fill him in. You've got some good stuff, how old are you by the way? You seem a little young to be this educated."

"I'm 24." I answer and he nods.

"Well, that's very impressive and I'm glad we've got you alongside us now." I smile appreciatively and look to the noise coming from behind me. I see a short girl dressed in the standard Shield uniform.

"I was sent to get you." She speaks to me and I nod, following her. She leads me to another part of the building and up to the third floor.

"I'm showing you to your room where you will be staying for the duration of your time here." I stay silent and follow her down the hall. The hall only has six doors in total, I'm guessing some other employees live here. She stops at the third door on the right and nods to me,

"This is your room, and I've been told someone will come retrieve you momentarily." She says and walks off, leaving me alone. Shield sure does trust new recruits a lot to keep leaving me alone. I don't know if I would be as trusting of someone with my background. But perhaps I'm under surveillance, and they're observing what I do. That would be the smart thing to do.

I watch her walk out of the hall and then turn the door's handle. The room inside is bare. There's a single bed in the middle with a nightstand on one side, a lamp beside the door, a dresser against the wall opposite of the bed with a mirror hanging above it. I walk inside and shut the door behind me, familiarizing myself. I see an attached bathroom, noting that it also is small and basic. I stare at the bed longingly, this has been the most exhausting day I've had in a long time. I sit on the bed and stretch, soaking in the little peace I've had all day.

Though I should feel anxious after everything that's happened, I know I'm in the safest place I could possibly be. I'm too tired to worry about anything, the anxiety will have to wait until the morning. I close my eyes and breathe in the cool, crisp air of the room.

Although my bed at home was far more comfortable, this one offers a sense of security that my old one could've never provided. And though it's less than ideal to be working for another organization, it sure beats being on the run for the rest of my life. I'm just nervous to see what the project is about, and why they're looking for someone with my skill set. A sudden knock on the door startles me from my momentary peace and I jump up to answer the door.

"Miss Averina, I hope you're finding the accommodations to be up to your standard?" Director Fury questions and I nod,

"Of course, sir. Thank you." I pay my gratitude and he starts walking down the hall.

I shut the door behind me and follow him. People stare as we walk by and I wish I could vanish. They could know absolutely nothing about me, or they could know everything, there's no way for me to tell. Ignoring the stares is easier said than done, but I focus on the back of Fury's bald head, hoping the light reflecting off of it is enough of a distraction.

"Time to meet your new team." Fury says, opening a door.

We step in and I see four people sitting around a table. I recognize them all. I feel uneasiness creep into me but I try to ignore it. I rub my palms together as I look at each of the people at the table. Luckily, I've already met one of them.

Bruce sends a warm smile my way and I return it to the best of my ability, the others watching my every move. I take a seat next to Fury and wait for anyone else to say something, I cannot stand the tense silence in the room. From the status of the people in this room I'm concerned about what the project could be, it's obviously not something small if four Avengers are involved.

"So, it seems that we're in God's good graces as he's sent us someone who I believe can crack the code." Fury begins speaking, all eyes lingering on him except mine. I continue to look at the people in the room, knowing they could all single handedly kill me in a split second if they so desired.

"Bruce has already met the newest member of the team, but I'll let her speak for herself." Fury turns the attention to me and I nod shortly. I wasn't expecting to be put on the spot. I lick my lips and wipe the palms of my hands on my thighs.

"I am Adalyn Averina and I am a professor specializing in brain anatomy and physiology, with a focus in memory functions. I have an extensive background in this field and I am happy to help in whatever way I can." I keep my introduction short and sweet, not giving up too much information.

"Sorry, but with all due respect you don't look a day over 20. Bruce and I have been working on this for weeks now and haven't been able to figure it out but you just so happen to understand everything?" The man sits forward in his seat, looking intensely at me. This must be the Tony Stark charm I've heard rumors of. I nod my head, hoping to calm the rising tension.

"Yes, like I said I have extensive experience and research into this topic, I've been involved in it since I was a little girl." I see him internally trying to piece things together.

"Okay hold on. So you're like a child prodigy or something? And you have a Russian accent, I hear it. Fury where did you find her? You're sure she's not another spy?" Tony seems paranoid, and I can't blame him because I too find this situation unconventional.

"It is highly unlikely that she's a spy, Stark." Fury defends my credibility. Tony stays quiet but stares.

"She was in the lab earlier with me Tony, she knows her stuff." Bruce also sticks up for me. It's weird having Fury and Bruce defend me though I've known them both less than two hours. The blonde haired man sits up straighter in his seat and makes eye contact with me.

"I know Bruce and Tony have a scientific interest in your work, but it's a little more personal to me. If you can help us, I will be very grateful." I give him a small smile. I like him, he seems just as he appears on the television. He is the personification of honor.

"I will do my very best to help. I am unsure of what the tasking is, I'm still in the dark about that." I admit, looking between all the people at the table. The one redhead has been quiet the entire time, though she's been studying me with slightly squinted eyes. I hear Fury sigh and I look to him,

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons. The timing could not have been a coincidence, we've found a few Hydra spies in the past few weeks but we've eradicated them. We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed." I scrunch my eyebrows, concentrating on what he's saying. It doesn't make sense, I'm not a weapons expert.

As if I had run into a brick wall, it feels like the breath has been knocked out of me and my eyes widen a bit, there's no way they could possibly be talking about my Hydra mission, though it would all make sense. I suppress my anxiety and focus on the matter at hand. Fury turns in his chair and plays a video on a hologram.

I watch the scene unfold. Steve is fighting with a man on a highway that's been blown to hell. My stomach drops and I feel like I'm going to pass out. There's no way. My eyes are intensely glued to the video, and I watch as knives get twirled and punches are thrown. I watch as the metal clashes on metal, and I tear my eyes away from the fight being displayed. I stare at the table, trying to not hyperventilate. I hear the video pause and the room is eerily silent.

"Fury she looks like she's going to pass out." Bruce points out and I continue staring at the table.

"Do you know him?" The nice blonde man from earlier, Steve Rogers, asks. I meet his blue eyes and see the desperation in them. I nod my head, gripping the sides of my seat.

"The Winter Soldier. He was my mission." I manage to say without throwing up all over the table. This has to be some sort of nightmare I'm trapped in, there's no way this is reality. The rest of the table silently looks at one another in shock.

"Your mission?" Steve asks, leaning on the table, getting closer to me. I sense both curiosity and hostility.

"I worked for Hydra since the day I was born, my father was a man of Hydra notoriety. I was indoctrinated and trained. I had a special talent for understanding how people work, how the mind works. It was my job to improve what Arnim Zola created during World War Two. I didn't want to do it, but I didn't have a choice. I programmed their most efficient and deadly weapon and ruined a man at the same time." I admit. Steve stares at me with a blank expression, and I quickly meet his gaze with one of sympathy and regret.

The rest of the members take this information in and process it. There's no easy way to explain what I did, it's more of a "rip the band-aid off" situation and mend relationships from there. I feel shame and guilt wash over my body as I recall my earlier days working for Hydra. I remember every second of what I did, the pain I inflicted and the lives I've ruined.

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