#she's like 'want tell me what you did' 'want to tell me who you did??'

[cheacegirl]

Posts that make me remember my similar teacher issues and get irrationally upset (and write an entire essay in the tags apparently)

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loud II

Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You really need to stay quiet

*TW: light sexual content*

You whine into Mapi's mouth as she kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth easily as you try to get even closer to her, sat atop her lap and rocking.

"Don't be too loud," Ingrid warns from her sport on the armchair in the corner, a light flush to her cheeks as she watches, chest heaving with pants," Or we'll have unwanted visitors."

You and Mapi don't really listen though.

You're usually good listeners, to Ingrid at least, but your noise levels can never be policed.

Especially if you're unbuttoning Mapi's shirt and gently running your fingers over her bare skin.

She gasps into your mouth, head tipping back to moan when you move to attach your lips to her neck.

"Another hickey?" Ingrid asks from her spot watching you both, legs thrown over the arms of the seat casually like she's watching her favourite show.

She probably is.

"Make sure to really mark her up," She continues," So she remembers what's going to happen tonight."

Mapi's hips jerk upwards when you suck at a particularly sensitive part of her neck. Her moans turn more into a whine, high pitched and loud as you bite down with a smug smirk.

"Don't make me come over there and gag you," Ingrid warns, eyes flashing with something deliciously dangerous at the threat.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd threatened to do that. It wouldn't be the first time she'd followed through either.

She'd have to be creative though. She certainly hadn't packed what she usually uses at home for this trip but you'd always enjoyed when Ingrid got a bit creative.

Especially when you could watch her get creative with Mapi, who threads her fingers through your hair to keep you at that sensitive spot.

"You...You try to be quiet when you've got an angel sucking at your neck," Mapi pants out, whining when you grind more firmly onto her lap.

"An angel?" You grin against her skin," Clearly, I'm not doing this right if you think I'm an angel." You look into her eyes and wink. "After all, I'm just warming you up for Ingrid."

You go back to sucking on her neck, littering Mapi with hickeys as her head raises to look at Ingrid, completely relaxed and only a little flushed from her seat in the corner watching.

"I-"

She's cut off though by the sharp rapping of knuckles on the door and you both freeze, heads trying to strain around the corner like you suddenly gained x-ray vision to see who could be waiting on the other side.

"Why did you stop?" Ingrid asks, elegantly getting to her feet with a smile.

"We..." You say," There's someone at the door..."

"Yes. That doesn't explain why you stopped."

"But the door-"

"I'll get the door," Ingrid waves a dismissive hand. "And I want you both suitably warmed up for me by the time I'm back." She winks. "You two will just have to be very quiet."

It doesn't sound like a difficult task but the moment Mapi's lips are on yours again, you know both of you are struggling to choke down the moans and whines threatening to spill out.

"Ingrid." It's Alexia's voice that you hear when the door is finally swung open.

"Alexia?" Ingrid replies and you can just tell she'll be wearing that confused face that she's perfected so well just for situations like these. "What is it? I thought we were done for the day. Have we missed a meeting?"

"No," Alexia says," No, nothing like that. Listen, I have no issues if you're going to let Mapi and y/n play cards but, please, can you tell them to quieten down?

You clumsily grind down against Mapi and she bites at your lip to force herself not to let a moan slip out.

"I can try," Ingrid lies," But you know how they get when they're playing cards. I can't always keep them quiet."

"So long as you try," Alexia agrees," Even just a tiny bit quieter? The walls are thick so it's not terrible but even just a little less noise will be appreciated."

"I'll make sure they're quieter," Ingrid promises, drumming her fingers on the door just as you drag Mapi into another heated kiss," Is that it?"

"That's it," Alexia says," Thanks."

"No problem."

The minute you hear the door swing shut, Mapi moans into your mouth, hands on your hips trying to guide your grinding exactly where she needs you.

"So," Ingrid says as she crawls onto the bed behind you, hooking her chin over your shoulder and pushing you and Mapi a tad more firmly together," It looks like you two might really get gagged after all."

[sc0tters]

Lessons in Bed | Nico Hischier & Luke Hughes

summary: when luke tells you his ex left him for his skills in bed, it's only right that you and your boyfriend give him a lesson he'd never forget

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving!)

word count: 6.19k

authors note: this is the first time I have written a sub pairing, not entirely sure how i feel about it but it is definetly something that needs improvement so sorry about that... nevertheless this is a threesome that had no help on it and the last time we did that was like our first threesome. dom nico in this was something i could get used to 🤭

Parties at your place always seemed to go off a hit. 

Everyone loved the atmosphere of the apartment as they spoke or drank. The playlist you created was also always just what the environment needed to be perfect. Which is why you were so surprised to see him missing from the group. 

Luke Hughes had been someone you knew from the moment he had moved to New Jersey. Being Nico’s girlfriend meant that you knew all of the guys and oftentimes you were helping them settle in. Which was why you were so surprised when Luke was missing, this had always been more of his scene especially after college. 

Nico could see that your mind looked as if it was anywhere else “you okay schatz?” He called out over the music, letting his mouth hover close to your ear. 

You nodded as you sent him a smile “just looking for Luke.” You responded in the same tone as he took the chance to look “think he is in the kitchen?” Nico remembered seeing him in there when he got you a new drink. 

Nico’s hand went up to hold yours “you want me to come with?” His question made you smile “you don’t have to Neeks.” You shook your head before you planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Of course that meant he was coming with you, interlacing your hand with his before he made his way to the kitchen, always careful to not lose you in the crowd. Just like the captain had predicted, Luke stood in the kitchen staring at his drink. 

It made your lips form a pout “Lukey what are you doing in here?” His head shot up as he placed his phone in his pocket “just thinking.” The words were a blatant lie, clearly highlighted by the way his eyes avoided both you and Nico. 

You dropped Nico’s hand “y’know you can talk to either of us about anything.” Your voice was sweet while you made your way over to the youngest Hughes boy “it’s embarrassing.” Luke shook his head watching you both come further into the kitchen. 

Nico had to admit that he always thought Luke had some kind of crush on you, big or small, he knew it was there “you know we won’t judge you.” He added, crossing his arms “my girlfriend broke up with me.” His words made a soft laugh escape from your lips. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder “baby that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you shook your head letting your lips form a frown “she did it because I wasn’t good in.” Luke let his head dip back to where your bedrooms were. 

It took Nico much longer to figure out what the boy was saying than you “that’s completely normal!” You scoffed knowing that you had a good reason for not liking her “it is?” Luke had this sad look on his face that made you curse his now ex for hurting him like this. 

Nico watched you run your fingers through the Americans hair “yeah like when we first started dating Nico wasn’t the best.” Nico knew all about the ways he needed to improve in the bedroom as you were his first serious relationship, so the lessons from hook ups were going to do him no good “he wasn’t?” Luke couldn’t believe that about his captain, the man who was usually so calm and collected who wore your scratches and hickies like a badge of honour was once bad in bed? 

Nico nodded, pushing his hair out of his face “but my girl turned out to be a damn good teacher and now I know all her spots.” Nico smirked as he leaned against the kitchen counter “you thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked Nico wanting to get his permission to offer it to the younger boy first.

The two of you had agreed that a threesome was something neither one of you was totally against, and in fact it was pretty high on both of your wish lists “Hughesy you promise you can keep this a secret f’me?” Your voice was sickly sweet in his ear as he nodded “promise.” Nico had to smirk at the way the boy was so desperate for your immediate praise. 

It made you smile that he was so responsive “how would you like us to show you how it’s done?” Your offer made him squirm “want to know what it feels like to fuck a girl properly?” Luke couldn’t help it when a moan escaped from his lips. 

You looked down to see that a bulge had formed in his jeans “I’m sorry.” He went to apologise but you and Nico were having none of that “Lukey it is natural.” You shook your head not worrying about it. 

That seemed to calm him down “can you teach me?” He didn’t know who he was really asking as you both nodded “when the party is over why don’t you stay and we can start?” Nico couldn’t help but laugh seeing how the Hughes boy’s face dropped at your words. 

Having to wait for at least an hour seemed like torture to him “Luke trust me.” Nico placed his hand on the boys shoulder “with the way my girl moans you’re gonna want us three to be the only ones here.” The captain explained, not missing how your cheeks turned red hearing his words. 

Luke swore he his heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the party to finish “you know where Luke is?” Jack asked looking down at his phone seeing that the boy had not responded to any of his messages “I am pretty sure he left with some girl.” Nico lied wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He looked to you to back him up “yeah Jack, I am so sorry he told me to tell you but I forgot.” The way you made it so convincing should have made Nico feel bad but it did anything but that “no worries.” Jack sighed pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

The Center sent you both a smile “have a good night.” You and Nico waved him off, feeling like you couldn’t get rid of him quickly enough “you sure you want to do this neeks?” You asked letting the door shut behind you. 

Your question made your boyfriend freeze “I do but only if it is something you’re comfortable with.” He looked to you for reassurance, not wanting to push you into something you didn’t want “I do Nico.” You nodded, pushing onto your tippy toes to kiss him. 

It made Nico smile “and besides watching you teach someone all I’ve taught you is gonna be like really hot.” Your words made him laugh “is that what you’re thinking about tonight?” He asked as your cheeks turned a shade of pink, meaning he was right. 

The captain pulled you into another kiss, wanting a moment just between the two of you before Luke got involved again “behave mister.” You warned feeling Nico’s hand squeeze your ass. 

It made him laugh as he raised his hands in surrender “apologises madam.” Nico teased watching you look for Luke “Luke baby!” You called out watching him walk out of the bathroom. 

His hands were in his hoodie pocket “hi.” His voice was quiet “you ready for this?” You asked him walking up to the boy. 

He didn’t want to admit it but god did you smell amazing “because if you want to leave at any time just say the words and we will end it.” You wanted Luke to know that even if you and Nico were teaching him, he had just as much power as the two of you did. 

Luke nodded “don’t want to go.” His words made you smile “now you said she didn’t like how you were in the bedroom?” You wanted to know where he needed your help, and if it was everywhere then you and Nico were happy to do that. 

The boy looked nervous “this is a safe space.” Nico reiterated the fact that you guys could all trust each other and that the events of the night would not be shared “she didn’t like anything.” Those words made your heart break for him. 

And it was clear that he could see that “can we like not talk about it.” He scratched the back of his neck not wanting sympathy from you as he was just going to feel embarrassed “kiss me.” Luke felt his eyes go wide at your words “c’mon Luke we have to start somewhere.” He nodded dropping his head down as he hit your nose with his. 

It caused a hiss to leave your lips as your eyes screwed shut, if you weren’t meant to be helping him Nico would have laughed “Luke bud you’re going about it all wrong.” Nico clicked his tongue hooking his finger into your jeans belt loop to pull you back to him “first you got to have some direction.” The captain spoke in a duh tone, placing his hands on your cheeks. 

His eyes were always such a warm place to you “and then you can look where you’re going before you get there.” He dropped his head to the point where his lips hovered over yours “some girls love it when you look between their eyes and their lips for a second.” Nico smirked seeing your smile as he was talking about you. 

You nodded “and then you can show her you’re in charge but don’t take her teeth out.” Your words were quiet as Nico kissed you. His tongue dragged across your lower lip, pulling you into a trance that made you whimper when he pulled away. 

It stroked his ego as he turned back to Luke “and don’t forget that you can move your hands around her body as you’re making out.” With that suggestion Nico stepped away, motioning to Luke to step into his place “just relax okay.” You were too good to Nico, Luke swore to himself. 

His hands rested right where Nico’s were before “hi.” He whispered looking at how beautiful you looked this close up. Luke’s lips were rougher than Nico’s as his tongue found its way into your mouth. 

It was a clear improvement as the boy also breathed from his nostrils while he let one hand travel to your ass and the other to your tits. He gave them a squeeze that made you moan, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Nico almost had to admit that he felt a little jealous seeing you all like that with someone else, he knew your body was responsive so he should have known it would end like this. As you pulled away from Luke his teeth softly tugged at your lower lip “think Lukey boy is a fast learner.” Nico teased the boy, seeing how your eyes were wide staring at the boy. 

Luke saw your frazzled state “should we move you to the bedroom?” Nico asked placing his hand in the back of your neck before he kissed you again. The American had to admit that watching how your boyfriend knew how to elicit the right reaction out of you, was hot. 

You smiled seeing Luke again “yeah.” You nodded taking his hand in yours while Nico lead the way. The room was one Luke had never seen before, always feeling like your bedroom was far too private for him to impose on “you like the place?” You asked running your finger along his jawline. 

Luke nodded “y-yeah.” His breath caught in his throat seeing the mischievous look on your face “so how do you finger a girl?” Nico’s question made you laugh. 

He rolled his eyes “I’m serious schatz we don’t even know if he knows where your clit or where your erogenous zones are.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed proving that Nico had some ground to be right “like with her here her most sensitive zones are behind her ears.” Nico pressed a kiss against the back of your ear before he softly sucked on your earlobe making you moan. 

The captain smirked before he pulled away, making sure that Luke was still watching “her scalp.” His fingers ran through your hair making you squirm in the process “god wait until you get to play with these.” Nico couldn’t help but grunt when he gave your boobs a squeeze. 

Luke watched on in awe “and when I’m eating her out I’ll kiss the back of her knees and all down her thighs making sure she’s ready.” Luke nodded watching you look at Nico “Neeks think we should show him now.” Your words came with you pulling your top off. 

Your red bra complimented your skin “even though you are focusing on my cunt doesn’t mean that you can’t acknowledge my top half too.” You explained as you begin to kiss Luke again, but this time your lips didn’t stay on his for long, wanting to find his own sensitive zones. 

Nico unbuttoned your jeans as you sucked at Luke’s neck, drawing a moan from his lips “think we found it.” You licked your lips, stepping out of your jeans to reveal a matching set of underwear to the bra “fuck.” Luke whimpered letting his eyes screw shut. 

It made you let out a whine “Lukey baby I want you to feel me okay?” You asked taking his hand when he nodded “you feeling how wet I am through these?” You placed his hand against the wet patch on your panties. 

His knees almost buckled at the feeling when his eyes shot open “schatz stop teasing him and let him have a taste.” Nico’s words made you pout. But still you listened to your boyfriend and lay on the bed for both boys to see “why don’t you take her bra off?” Nico motioned to Luke to join you on the bed. 

It made the boy look to you like he was asking for your permission “I don’t bite.” You giggled seeing Nico raise his eyebrows, oh you definitely do. Luke brought his hand up behind you and unsnapped the bra with ease catching both you and Nico by surprise “did I do something wrong?” Luke grew nervous as he looked between the two of you. 

You shook your head, letting the bra fall to the bed “not many guys can do that with such ease.” You confessed going to kiss him again “schatz if you keep on kissing him he isn’t going to learn anything.” Nico teased you as he sat on the bench of your vanity watching the scenario unfold in front of him. 

Luke kissed at your shoulder “thought I was just being used to teach him.” You shot back sending him an amused grin as your fingers tugged at Luke’s curls “don’t start something you aren’t ready to keep up.” Nico warned getting up as he wasn’t going to let you be a brat. 

You smirked watching him look at Luke “c’mere Hughes she wants her pussy fucked.” The words made you press your legs together as Nico forced them open again “get her panties off.” Nico ordered making Luke nod. 

He followed the orders, slotting in between your legs “can you lift?” Luke asked making you push your thighs into the air so that he could take your panties off “shit.” The boy let out a low whistle finally pulling them off of your feet. 

Nico smirked at the sight that he loved so much “you want to show us what you normally do?” The captain sat on your side of the bed. Luke got himself comfortable between your legs while he went to spit on his fingers “why don’t you get her to do that?”Nico motioned to you as it always made you horny. 

Luke looked to you as you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his fingers “fuck.” The Hughes boy let out a grunt feeling your tongue swirl around his digits “now start out easy with two.” Luke watched how your eyes screwed shut feeling his fingers thrust into your cunt. 

Your cunt stretched against his fingers “you want to get her ready so do this.” Nico did this scissoring motion with his fingers when he sat behind you. Your back rested against his chest “shit.” You moaned showing Luke that he was doing the right thing. 

You let your hips meet his thrusts “play with her clit.” Nico brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed at your neck. 

His eyes watched the Hughes boy totally miss your clit “you see this?” Nico asked taking his thumb as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, your head pressed against his shoulder as your boyfriend hit the right spot “if you’re just fingering her you want to do it like this.” Nico kissed your ear heading your breathing grow heavy. 

Your skin grew warm seeing two boys play with your cunt “but if you’re fucking her.” You watched Nico move his focus to the pads of his fingers on your clit which more pace “wanna try?” Your chest heaved using all of your energy to look at Luke. 

He nodded using his thumb like the older boy had “ain’t he a good listener?” Nico cooed watching how your hands tried to reach for your breasts, desperate to play with your sensitive peaks “Lukey think it’s time you use something different to make her feel good.” Nico’s suggestion came as he held your hands, stopping you from playing with your breasts. 

Luke watched the captain as he knew the suggestion came with some logic as you started to appear as if you were close. So Luke listened he retracted his fingers from your cunt watching in awe as he saw how your cunt glistened. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact “schatz don’t be a brat or else you won’t cum tonight.” The younger boy was surprised that someone could have the power over someone else, to have the ability to withhold a human reaction. 

Nico pulled away from behind you, setting you back flat on the bed “I love you.” He pressed his lips against your shoulder before he turned his attention to Luke “you gotta go gentle first.” His voice soothed you. 

You ran your fingers up your skin “please Lukey.” You begged, wishing that the boy would hurry up “baby be patience for him.” Nico clicked his tongue reminding you that tonight was meant to be for you to teach Luke, tomorrow Nico could have you screaming until your throat felt raw if you wanted it. 

Luke took this deep breath as if it was going to sooth his nerves. His head hovered over your cunt “uh uh Luke.” Nico shook his head, stopping the boy in the process “having sex isn’t just about fucking her pussy remember?” The captain ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs making you squirm. 

The Hughes boy nodded remembering about what you told him in the living room “there we go.” Nico smiled watching Luke kiss at the inside of your thighs. 

For someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he was methodical. Luke seemed to kiss you in the way that he divided his attention equally between your thighs, always hovering just close enough to your cunt that you swore he was finally going to start, but he never did. His eyes studied yours as he finally stopped “please Luke.” You begged feeling him place an open mouthed kiss on your cunt. 

It made you grip at the sheet beneath you “occasionally focus on fucking her with your tongue too.” The suggestion was ignored by the boy as he brought his fingers that he had used to now focus on your weeping hole “fuck baby.” You moaned looking at Nico who couldn’t help but smile. 

Luke found himself settling into a perfect rhythm, occasionally looking back up at you “please Lukey.” You begged wanting more as he inserted another finger into your cunt “this greedy slut likes it when you do this.” Nico showed the boy how to turn his fingers into this come hither motion to get deeper into your cunt. 

The Hughes boy sent him what was only a glance before he listened, turning his attention to you in order to ensure it was working. His fingers grazed your g-spot, causing your body to jolt “there we go Lukey boy.” Nico praised the boy making Luke moan. 

Luke almost slotted into the motions, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast. His fingers rolled your nipple between them, tugging at the peak “don’t stop.” You shook your head feeling your thighs begin to shake “she’s gonna finish and you want that right?” Nico pushed Luke with the encouragement that it worked like a wildfire. 

His lips sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud “fuck yeah.” Luke spoke against your cunt sending shivers through your body “c’mon schatz let him see what it’s like to have a pretty girl cum on your tongue.” Nico cooed drawing circles on your shoulder with his thumb. 

Luke didn’t relent, letting your moans bounce off of the walls making him feel like a moth to a flame “shit Lukey please don’t stop.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as your body shook “right there a-a-ahhh.” Your eyes screwed shut when your cunt clenched around his fingers while your body spasmed. 

White specks cast over the black that your eyelids brought upon you “oh god oh god!” You chanted as Luke helped you ride through your orgasm. But then it turned into him just being hungry, as he continued to lap at your release “no Lukey.” You tugged at his hair, wanting to pull him off of you. 

He let you kiss him, tasting your sweet release on his tongue made you feel lightheaded bringing him back onto you as you lay on the bed felling his boner that his shorts did little to hide, graze against your cunt “shit.” You gasped feeling your eyes widen. 

Luke laughed against your shoulder, echoing your same emotions “doll why don’t you thank him for treating ya?” Nico’s words made you nod. You rolled out from under the boy as you patted the bed for him “sit.” You ordered him. 

The boy obliged seeing the hunger in your eyes “you gonna let me taste ya?” You asked running your hand over the material of his shorts “please.” Luke whimpered, feeling his cock push to your hand. 

Nico remembered what it was like to be in that position because you had this power to turn him into putty, and that’s what caused him to raise a smack to your ass “ah!” You whimpered almost jumping out of your skin at the sensation “don’t be mean and tease him schatz.” The captain clicked his tongue sending you an unimpressed look. 

It made you frown turning to him with a pout “fine.” You huffed reaching for the waistband of Luke’s shorts “gonna lift up for me pretty boy?” You asked causing him to push his hips up into the air, allowing you to tug at his shorts bringing them down with his boxers. 

His cock ached for some attention, for you “god.” He moaned watching you run your thumb over the swollen head. The precum oozed out of it working as some kind of shitty variation of lube. You let your eyes lock onto his as you pooled your saliva in your mouth before you let it drop into his cock. 

Luke swore he was dreaming as he watched you do these little kitten licks against his cock. Nico stood behind you dropping his pants as he pumped his cock once and then a second time “you gonna let him fuck your mouth while I fuck your cunt maus?” You moaned at the thought when you nodded. 

Nico dragged the head of his cock along your slit wanting to not let his teammate get all of the fun that you could give “shit schatz.” Nico moaned feeling your cunt hug his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him. 

As a moan went to escape from your lips you let your lips wrap around Luke’s cock. The warmth your mouth provided made Luke almost fall forward “yeah dude she sucks dick like a slut.” Nico laughed watching your hand massage Luke’s balls. 

Your cunt squelched as your previous orgasm was more than enough in terms of lube for Nico’s cock to throb with some thrusts “but that is what you love, huh?” Nico taunted you, as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him was not something that he failed to miss. Your words of agreement were muffled, but when your head bobbed with Lukes’s cock hitting your throat, it was clear what you were thinking “cap if she was mine I wouldn’t share.” Luke almost didn’t realise the line he walked on, he was dangerously close to pissing Nico off if he continued saying shit like this then Nico was more than likely going to take it out on your cunt. 

And you could already feel him doing it; his fingers pinched at your thighs “part of having a girl.” Nico grumbled, watching Luke grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail “is knowing when to listen.” Nico would never have dreamed of offering this to Luke, but you did, and Nico couldn’t say no to you.

You moaned wanting to let out a giggle if it had been a more appropriate time “glad you did.” Luke confessed, watching you look up at him through your now ruined mascara “good teachers.” He felt your throat gag around his cock making him grunt. The moment of silence made Nico smirk, finally having the boy shut up was the real stroke to his ego.

Luke squirmed beneath your touch, feeling your cheeks hollow out with your tongue swirling around the underside of his cock.

Nico thrust into you with such pace that the sound of your skin slapping against his echoed throughout the apartment, you were sure of it “fuck Neeks.” You let your lips pop from Lukes cock, quickly replacing your mouth with your hand “you wanna cum sweet girl?” He didn’t even need to wait for you to answer before he moved his hand to rub against your clit “please.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake as Nico had to also keep you from collapsing.

You continued to focus on fucking the younger boys cock in your hand “thrust your hips baby.” You cooed sending Luke a nod “I-i can’t.” Luke shook his head, not sure if he had the energy to complete the task. 

Nico hissed feeling you clench around his cock, almost making him forget how to breathe “when you get told to do something Luke, you do it no?” Nico used his captains tone that made you rest your head on Luke’s thigh “schatz look at him when he finally behaves.” He made you pull your head off of Luke’s thigh as his fingers tugged at your hair.

Luke watched your eyes open as he saw how Nico held you up with his hands in your hand. He felt overcome by pleasure, just needed that little bit more as he begun to push his hips into your hand. 

Nico nodded with a grunt as his tongue ran across his teeth “ain’t he a good boy schatz.” You let out this harsh whimper “such a good boy.” Your coos sent Luke over the edge causing sticky ropes of his release to shoot into your hand. 

Tears formed in his waterline “please.” Luke shook his head, not sure that he could take much more, thinking that he was already feeling hard again “you want her to cum?” Nico quizzed the boy who nodded. 

Luke could see the desperation on your face “tell her that.” The captain ordered his teammate “fuck doll.” Luke coughed feeling your hand finally slow on his cock. 

The Hughes boy had to think about his words “wanna see you make a mess okay?” Your tits throbbed as your cunt clenched hearing those words “you think that you can do that f’me?” Luke used his fingers to roll your nipples between them, causing your moans to sound like music in your ears.

Nico didn’t know how much longer he could take “c’mon liebling, show him how pretty you look when you cum on a cock.” Those words sent you over the edge 

Your eyes screwed shut as your head dropped when Nico let your hair go “fucking hell.” As you came around his cock it caused his own orgasm to come on “just like that.” Nico bit down on his lower lip as his head fell back, slowing his thrusts down before he pulled his cock out. 

The captain rubbed his thumb in these soft circles against the hip, watching how his release oozed out of your cunt. Trickling down your slit to your clit “you got one more in ya?” It was the first coherent sentences that you could form in a while “me?” Luke asked blinking heavily. 

Nico let out a snort as he turned your head so he could kiss you “I sure as shit know she wasn’t talking to me.” Nico pointed out, knowing that he could last for at least three rounds “schatz show him how good this cunt feels.” The captain stared at Luke as he cupped your pussy. 

Luke felt his mouth water at the sight of you letting out another moan “I don’t think I can fuck you.” The boy shook his head feeling like his legs were jelly “who said I couldn’t ride ya?” You tapped his legs motioning to him to set his legs straight. 

His eyes shut as the image became too strong in his mind “you can say no Lukey.” You reminded him of his rights as you sat on your heels in front of him “no I want to.” He was quick to shake his head, sending you a smile. 

You nodded, watching him pull you onto his lap. His legs pushed you up “you sure?” Nico had to smile from the corner of your bed where he sat, hearing how you were still making sure that he was comfortable “yeah I am.” Luke took the chance to kiss you. 

His tongue past your lips making you mewl at the contact. Your hand found its way between the two of you “off.” You tugged at his hoodie now wanting him naked too. 

Luke listened, letting your hands do the work as you brought it up to his chest before you pulled away, “just taking it off.” You smirked hearing him whimper at the loss of contact. 

His cheeks turned red, feeling grateful that his hoodie being pulled off of his head did a lot to hide the initial warmth that spread to his cheeks “such a pretty boy.” You cooed letting a grin form on your lips as you drank in the sight of his now messy curls. 

Your hand went back down between the two of you so you could grab his cock, your hands were delicate, softly palming him “please.” Luke rested his head against your headboard, feeling you lazily drive the head of his cock across your slit. Nico began to palm at himself, enjoying the view from behind “fuck him schatzi.” Nico clicked his tongue, growing irritated at the teasing.

You sank onto his cock letting your nails tense around his shoulders, he wasn’t as thick as Nico but Luke’s cock made your cunt hug his walls differently “move please.” Luke softened his grip around your hips “such a polite boy.” You nodded, slowly moving your hips seeing his eyes look back at you. 

He studied your face, noticing every little beauty spot and imperfection that made you, well, you. It made him smile when he realised that your eyes had been locked on his “you feel yourself?” You asked bringing his hand onto your lower stomach and making him press his into your skin. 

Luke was more impressed that he could get that deep than anything else “shit you’re perfect.” The compliment made Nico nod, agreeing that the boy was indeed not stupid “I am gonna fuck you now okay?” You asked the boy, bringing your legs to either side of him so that you could properly work yourself on his cock, knowing that you were not going to last for long. 

And judging by how he watched you like a cat who found a warm spot on a winter day, Luke was excited for you to continue. Your one hand rested on his thigh behind you as the other gripped at his shoulder while you brought your cunt up and down his cock. Careful to never fully pull off of him before you slammed back down feeling his crotch graze against your clit. 

The movement was steady making Nico feel a little jealous that it wasn’t him beneath you “fuck you feel so good.” You moaned not sure of how much longer you could last. 

His cock throbbed against your cunts gummy walls, hearing the sound of your skin hitting his causing his forehead to turn slick with sweat. His eyes watched your breasts bounce with every thrust you had on his cock. 

Luke was desperate to feel more of you “kissy?” He whined making you smile. You brought your hand up the side of his neck to his curls “so sweet when you talk so nice.” You praised him as you tugged at his hair. 

The feeling made the boy moan, pursing his lips to kiss you “such a good boy.” You cooed as you finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your lips were soft against his, making him grunt while he sucked at your lower lip “shit schatzi keep on doing you.” Nico felt his eyes screw shut as his cock oozed his sticky release in his hand “you see how much Neeks likes this?” You pulled away from the boy allowing him to see your swollen lips. 

Luke nodded feeling close to tears as his brain was on fire “like it too.” Luke looked down to see how your pussy looked fucking his cock. 

Your release that had mixed with Nico’s creamed around his cock “play with those tits.” Nico ordered making you nod as it was what you were desperate to feel.

His tongue swirled around you nipple while he fondled the other tit “fuck baby you wanna cum inside?” You were on the pill and at that moment not thinking about STDs “god yes.” Luke moaned against your boob causing the vibrations against your skin to go straight to your core. 

Your fingers strummed against your clit like you were playing the guitar, not sure if you were still helping him or if you were now using him for your orgasm “fuck doll right there.” Luke let out a grunt feeling your thrusts grow irregular making your body thrash around on him. 

His warm release painted the walls of your cunt, bringing your own orgasm on. You chanted his name from your lips, making it sound angelic as your cunt clenched around him, gushing on his cock. Your head fell forward when he let your boob go, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder. A whimper escaped your lips when you accidentally moved, feeling him still inside of you “you okay?” Lukes voice was soft, watching you use what energy you had to pick yourself off of his cock before you collapsed next to him. 

This was always Nico’s favourite part of the night, seeing you almost too fucked to speak, “I’ll get your bath ready.” Nico chuckled as he got up, squeezing your ankle “her bath?” Luke looked between you both as he was back to being confused. 

Nico rolled his eyes, starting to realise why the boy was having girl issues “now it’s time for your next lesson.” Nico motioned to Luke to follow him as Nico picked you up to bring you to go pee “aftercare and the importance of it.” Nico’s voice soothed you, it made your eyelids feel heavy when you rested your head against your boyfriend’s chest while Luke shut the door behind the three of you. 

Clearly, their night wasn’t over, but it wasn’t where the story ended either.

Luke felt his head hit the wall behind him “s-s-shit!” He moaned feeling his eyes screwed shut as he squeezed his hand around his cock continuing to thrust into his palm at a strong pace edging his orgasm. 

Jack walked into the apartment, still surprised that Luke didn’t come with him to the morning skate as he wasn’t the usual Hughes brother to skip it “fuck oh don’t stop y/n!” The moan came from Luke’s lips as he reached his high making Jack freeze where he stood by the door.

Did his younger brother have a crush on his captain’s soon-to-be fiancée?

[loramystii]

dark abby fucking Ellie’s sweet girlfriend PLEASE

ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ x ᴇʟʟɪᴇ'ꜱ ɢꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

— ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; ᴀʙʙʏ ɪꜱ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀꜱ. ʏᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪʟʟ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴀ ʜᴀʀꜱʜ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ

— ᴄᴡ; ᴅᴜʙ ᴄᴏɴ (?), ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ʙᴏɴᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʏɪɴɢ, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ

Ellie knew something was up since the moment she stepped foot into her house. The unusual silence as she took off her shoes and then the slight whimpers once she started walking down the hallway. Ellie's brow cocked, making her way to the bedroom where she was meet with stifled moans and shushing. Ellie twisted the door knob, your figure ass up, face down, hands tied behind your back and forced into an arch by Abby's hand.

Ellie shook in anger, staring at the same woman who ruined her life about to ravish her girlfriend. Your eyebrows were knit together, look so sweet, Ellie had the urge to save you. Cause it had to be forced, right? She tried to step closer to Abby, yet when Abby's gun pressed harshly against the back of your head, Ellie froze. You whimpered, "Abs'!" You complain, as if this wasn't what you agreed to, fear trembling through you. "Stay where you are, and I won't hurt her. Got it?" Abby demands, watching Ellie shift on her feet, itching to get you yet stays in place.

Abby keeps your wrists in place, digging her hand now into your hair, releasing the gun. She tugs, groaning at your little whimpers. Her strap was buried to the hilt inside you, her pelvis against your ass. "Let me— fuck– tell you how I got your pretty girlfriend to let me fuck her." Abby says, thrusting slowly in and out. You were a babbling, incoherent mess beneath her. Practically a dumb toy, allowing Abby to pull your hair and fuck your velvety cunt. Abby smacked your ass, already a bunch of red marks from before Ellie got home. "Told her a whole fuckin' sob story, and this sweet lil' girl let me pin her down in no time." Her pace quickens, fucking you stupid as Ellie watched.

Ellie practically growls, vision narrows at the scene. "Get your hands off her, Abby." She speaks yet it falls on deaf ears, Abby's grip on your hair becoming tighter to lift you up and rub lazy circles into your clit. Abby chuckled at Ellie desperately wanting to look away but too afraid that even in a split second you'd be harmed. "Stop fuckin' actin' like I forced her, she stripped for me, sucked my strap for me," Abby let go of your hair, face planting into the bed, your drool gathering on the sheets. "Always gettin' everything, even a sweet girl with a tight and willing cunt." Abby complained, cooing into your ear as she fucked you with an overwhelming force.

"Fuckkk— fuck fuck–" You babbled, eyes rolling to the back of your head, hardly able to make eye contact with Ellie. Abby grabbed your nape this time, hand circling your throat and pressing against your airway firmly. She lifted you by your neck, hardly breathing as she spoke right into your flushed cheeks. "Too bad she's a damn slut, huh?" Abby degraded, slapping you harshly against your cheek, hips still pistoning against yours. "Huh?" Abby emphasized once again, spitting on your red cheek this time. "Did you know how fucking greedy she was, Williams?" Abby asked, her lips parted, kissing down your exposed neck, still not allowing you to breathe.

"She jus' felt so bad for me, guess i'm pretty damn persuasive." Your lack of senses was overstimulating, hands tied along with your eyes blurry from tears. Ellie didn't respond, just watching how you moaned in response to every little movement. Your face was turning pale, hardly any oxygen in your system. "Stop doing that! Let her go—" Abby released your neck, allowing you to collapse again. "Cu— cumming-" Abby tugged your hair, movements away from giving you whiplash. Your orgasm crashed over you, eyebrows furrowed and squinting through your peripheral to see Abby's pulling her strap out of you with a filthy noise, your sopping cunt clenching around nothing.

Abby got up, unbuckling her harness and laying it ontop of your back. Watching you pant, the silicone tip painting your back muscles with your own cum, Abby wipes sweat off her forehead. "Sweet girl, bet Ellie neglects you huh?" She swipes drool off your chin. "Doesn't treat you as nasty as you deserve to be treated." You don't respond, simply murmuring and wiggling your ass. She grabbed her gun, shoving it into Ellie's chest. Ellie panicked slightly, eyes wide, resentment coursing through her veins. "Fuck her, or kill her. Either way works." She whispered before leaving.

The mess you were left in was picturesque. Her spit, your drool, your tears. Hands tied behind your back. Cum running down your back and lovely red mark on your cheek!

[peeb0]

mom got chewed out by one of her and dad's friends at dad's funeral for my "behavior"

behavior being over-stimulation (thanks to the autism) and telling people repeatedly to "Please don't touch me" when they're coming to pay respects. Most people were okay with the no touching, but there were a handful of people who continued asking for SOME form of contact. one lady in particular came up and tried going in for a hug, I told her "please don't touch me" and she wrapped her arms around me anyway, continuing to hug me, so i flipped tf out and said "I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME" loud enough for the entire room to go silent. This lady looked offended, which you know, they live in the south everyone is all about touching, but for fuck's sake, you are a fully grown adult woman, you should know by now that "don't touch me" means "don't fucking touch someone"

I ended up going and sitting away from everyone because i was just not in the mood any more, I looked like the bad guy, whatever. A few people still came up to me which was fine because they didn't touch me

but boy did mom hear about it afterward. Mostly from that one shitty lady I flipped out on. She went off on mom about how rude I was, and according to mom, who sticks up for no one because she is also an introvert, told her "You knew that she didn't want to be touched and you did it anyway, I don't see what the problem is."

don't touch people :)

You should be able to say “don’t touch me” to anyone ever in any context and not have it be considered in the realm of surprising or insulting imho if we ever needed to normalize something it’s this

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kamospeach]

smokin' weed out the container .ᐟ

plot: plug!ony wants to show a innocent girl how to really spend a friday night

content warning: drug use, black coded, driving under the influence, exhibitionism if you squint, bathroom sex, quickie, fingering, oral f!recieving, size kink if you drag it, standing, backshots

peachy's yap: wc 3.1k .ᐟ anything about ony will do it for me. hood nigga ony is my fav ony sorry not sorry.

"yeah, one of her closest friends. i told her i'd come get her but she refused to leave her friend alone at home." connie informed ony about you as they made their way to your house. ony shrugged following the directions on the navigation not too worried about you.

the two guys had a few drops to make before turning in for the night. connie's car was at home and he didn't feel like doubling back. pulling up to your house mansion ony's jaw dropped. connie nodded looking at him and not shocked by the mere size of your home anymore.

"she's fucking rich and she's a little sheltered," he warned him knowing how ony can get. he's not loud or super outgoing but he's very assertive and he's bold. ony just nodded watching you and sasha walk out of the front door.

"you didn't tell me she looked that good." ony hit connie on the shoulder and connie frowned up.

"why would i? that's my girl's close friend, she's like a sister." he shook his head as sasha and you entered the car. sasha leaned up to kiss connie before she went back to talking to you.

"y'all not gon' say hi t'me?" ony asked and sasha smacked her lips.

"you always beggin' for attention, hi ony," she said and ony looked at you and you cleared your throat.

"hi onyankapon," you said his full name and he shook his head.

"i know we just met but you can call me ony, ma. i prefer that anyways," he tells you and you nod giving him a small smile before turning back to sasha who slaps your arm. connie gave him a look that said 'really?' and ony smiled to himself.

the four of you rode around as connie and ony made their final drops for the night. sasha and you giggling and gossiping in the back. until ony heard something that piqued his interest.

"you've never been to a sideshow?" he said not caring if he was caught listening in on your conversation.

"no..." you said and he laughed.

"hey con isn't there one this friday?” ony asked and connie nodded grabbing his phone and keys.

“yeah eren and jean said they're going too," he said opening the door sasha followed behind him and ony nodded.

"they spinnin'?" he asked and your brows furrowed not understanding what 'spinning' referred to. while con nodded you looked at sasha who waved at you to get out of the car. you followed behind sasha and connie and they took you home.

over the next week, ony had invited you and sasha to tag along as they made their drops. you and sasha sitting in the back gossiping and watching tiktoks. while ony and connie eavesdropped on the two of you. connie adds his two sense now and then while ony agreeing or disagreeing.

when friday rolled around you were nervous. ony promised you that you'd have a good time and to wear a sweater or something. over the last week, you and ony had exchanged numbers and had casual conversations over text. the first time he called you was last night when he facetimed you to talk about the plans for the night.

-flashback-

frank ocean played on your speaker as you did your homework. you hummed to the song you were sidetracked by the new eye masks you had bought. after putting them on you put your focus back on your homework.

your music was interrupted by your phone ringing, expecting it to be your parents or sasha. you looked down seeing ony was facetiming. your brain scrambled making your hair was good. you answered the phone sitting it against your vanity.

"hello?" you said looking up at the phone and seeing ony eyes low looking at you. he was clearly in the car and smoke clouded his face. he licked his lips and smiled small showing his gold grillz.

"what you doin’?" he asked bringing the phone close to his face and putting his eye in the camera. you laughed at his silly gesture shaking your head.

"i'm doin' homework." ony nods grabbing the blunt from who you assumed was connie. they were best friends and if ony was with a group of people connie had to be there too or he wasn't going. although ony was bold and spoke how he felt he was a usually quiet person. he didn't speak unless he felt comfortable enough to put in his opinion.

"you still comin wit us tomorrow right?" he asked and you nodded your head quickly.

"of course, we've been talkin' about it all week," you tell ony and he smiles. you were excited for this friday you liked spending time with ony and you'd get to go out and have fun for once.

-flashback over-

you looked in the mirror one last time nodding at your outfit. it wasn't insanely cold since it was between summer and fall. you grabbed a purse making sure you had your essentials.

lip gloss. phone. gum. wallet. keys.

after you checked that you had everything you ran downstairs going out to ony's car. this time connie's car was parked in front of his but you didn't notice. you opened up the back seat not seeing sasha.

"you sittin' in the front with me ma," he tells you. you nod and join him in the front. once it dawned on you that connie and sasha were leading the way and you two were following behind them.

"i thought con and sasha were in here," you said looking at ony's side profile. he looked better than he did on the factime yesterday. brown skin glowing under the sunset his mustache and goatee combo. he was like a fine-ass black movie star and you couldn't take his eyes off him.

"i thought they were riding with us but con said he'd drive." he informed you and you nodded still staring at him. "starin' is rude y'know that right?" he laughed and you quickly looked away from him.

"i ain't mean ta stare." you clear your throat and he hums. although you didn't mean to stare you still did anyway. eyes trained on the way his arm covered in tattoos steered his free hand holding a blunt between his pointer and thumb.

he had on a loose white short sleeve with black graphics and black cargo pants. he had on a durag and a black and white yankees fitted and maison mihara canvas lows. he looked too good his golds shining under the setting sun.

the rest of the ride was silent while ony smoked his blunt and followed behind connie. when you all pulled up to the abandoned empty lot people were hoping out of their car. big speakers were pulled out and music began to play. car after car came in drifting in the small circle. a couple of people got hit which made you a little nervous to be as close as you were.

ony and connie had introduced you to reiner, armin, mikasa, annie, eren, jean, levi, and hange. you were shocked by the large group of friends you had never met in the 10 years you were friends with sasha. you all leaned on reiner's big pickup truck watching eren drive into the circle.

"is he good?" you asked looking up at ony. you were leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

"as fuck. lot of people come just ta' see him." ony told you and you nodded taking in your surroundings. "you good?" he asked and you smiled at him with a nod. honestly, you were enjoying your time here.

"you think i could spend more time with y'all?" you asked and he nodded.

"hell yeah, you're sasha's friend and you're my friend now so of course you can." he smiled down at you and you looked away too shy to look at him. some guy walked up to the two of you smiling at ony.

"wassup man you got that shit on you?" he asked and ony nodded.

"you know i do." he laughed dapping him up and taking the money from the man's hand. he handed him the bag and the man quickly walked off.

although it was legal ony didn't care for everyone knowing he sold. especially at a sideshow that was as crowded as this. he wanted to vibe out with you especially since he felt like y'all were feeling each other. he wanted to put 100% of his attention on you and you only. not selling to some potheads who couldn't spare an extra 5 minutes asking someone else.

your big mesmerized eyes were looking everywhere shocked at what you were seeing. ony smiled concedely taking credit for being the one to show you something new. he enjoyed how every time something happened you'd look back at him with a shocked expression. pointing at the car saying "did you see that?" "look at that car" "oooo that one's girlie!". he loved every second of your obvious enjoyment.

after the sideshow, the group decided to go to waffle house very original. it was going on 2 am and everyone sat around the table eating their food. eren made money and you weren't exactly sure how. ony made money too, that you knew how.

"i'll be right back you told the group and they nodded." you stood up walking to the bathroom expecting to see stalls you realized there was only one family bathroom in the whole restaurant.

after doing your business you washed your hands. you grabbed your lip gloss out of your purse reapplying as someone knocked on the door. you didn't answer initially thinking they'd notice someone was in here after they wiggled the locked handle. yet the knock came again.

"just a second!" you yelled and whoever was behind the door knocked harder. "i said just a second the fuck?" you yelled swinging the door open and seeing ony standing there, toothpick in his mouth.

"you yellin' at me ma?" he asked and you smiled backing up the closeness between the two of you too much. but it only made it worse since ony came into the bathroom with you locking the door behind him.

"nah, i thought you was somebody else. if you would've said it was you i would've let you in," you said and ony raised a brow.

"let me in? i really just came to talk to you with all those people around. been waiting to be wit just you." he said licking his lips at you making you look away from him.

"why just me?" you asked and he shrugged wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"i been wanting to kiss you since tuesday," he said lowly in your ear. you were taken aback by this confession since you had only met him sunday.

"kiss me?" you asked and ony laughed.

"you askin' or tellin'?" he smirked as your face was hot from his flirty comments.

"both," you said building up the courage to try keyword try to flirt back with ony.

"yeah," he responded to your question and then the hand on your waist fell to your ass. this reaction was a response to you telling. he kissed you like he had been wanting to do for the past week.

your lips moved fast and hungrily the sweet taste of syrup on his lips. while he tasted the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. the mix of flavors is sweet and tasty. your hands reached up grabbing his cheeks and pulling him closer to you. his other now on your waist.

"mmm." you moan into his mouth as his hands knead the fatty flesh of your ass. you pulled away standing on tiptoes to trail kisses from his lips down his neck. your hands going up his shirt running up his toned abs.

"right now?" he asked in shock and you knew what he meant not needing it to be interpreted. you nodded looking up at him with doe eyes. "i could take you home tho..." he said, breathing unevenly he was getting turned on by the minute.

"need you now, m'so wet," you whispered to him. ony was shocked by your boldness and your admission of needing him. he smirked at you picking you up and pushing your back against the wall of the bathroom.

he realized now that this wasn't a good idea since the one piece you wore had to be unzipped from the back. he let you down taking off your jacket and hanging it on the hook. looking for the zipper on the back of your one-piece.

"how the fuck do you take this shit off?" he grumbled and you were whining from being impatient. "i know baby i know i'm tryna find this bitch ass zipper. lucky we ain't at home i'd rip this bitch off you." he said angrily finally finding the zipper. he helped you out of it and hung it on the hook too.

"c'mere," you said wrapping your arms around his neck. he unbuckled his pants pulling them down. he couldn't afford to have a wet spot on his pants when you both returned to the table. "we only have 10 minutes."

"that'll do," he grunted lifting your right leg and squatting down. placing your leg over his shoulder he wasted no time pushing two of his fingers into your tight cunt.

"fuck wait." you moaned out and ony hummed. you hadn't had sex in a while and you were tighter than usual. the stretch from ony's fingers was almost too much for you to take.

"im thicker than this." he warned and the thought of his big cock tearing you in half had you clenching on his fingers. "oh you like that? you're getting wetter just thinkin' about me?" he taunted you as he fucked his fingers into you. your juices dripped down your leg and he licked it up. trapping your clit into his mouth as he ate you out so good.

he pulled his fingers out of you pushing his fingers into your mouth. you grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingers clean. his eyes dilated as he watched you in awe he knew he needed to feel your mouth around him. but you didn't have time.

with that reminder, ony spun you around pressing your chest against the wall. you spread your legs bending over enough that your ass arched. ony pulled a condom out of his wallet ripping the condom. he slid the condom down his dick rubbing the tip on your clit.

"ready?"

"yes." you moaned and ony groaned as he pushed himself halfway in. and he was right he was thicker than his fingers. the stretch brought tears to your eyes, and you turned around looking to see he was only halfway in. he pushed more of himself in and you whined pushing against his stomach.

"let me just get all the way and you can take all the time you need," he said leaning forward to kiss away your tears. you nodded letting him bottom out in you the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. you moved slowly as your tight cunt adjusted to him.

"m'ready," you told him and he nodded starting off with nice slow strokes. your moans were uncontrollable as he pounded into you painfully slow. "f...faster please." you mumbled and ony laughed at your plea.

"what was that ma i couldn't hear you," he said making his strokes even slower to antagonize you.

"faster ony please!" you yelp and he smirks loving the way you said screaming out his name and begging for him. and just like you asked ony fucked you faster his hips snapped into you. his hands roughly gripped your waist as he bullied his big cock into you.

"fuck baby this pussy s’good for me. so tight and warm." he moaned throwing his head back. he slapped your ass and gripped it roughly. his other hand followed suit. now both hands were on your ass spreading it open he fucked into you. he was hypnotized by the glistening of your essence coating him and the way you grip him.

his hips never slowed down as if he was digging the orgasm out of you. his groans were almost louder than your moans as he pounded into you. your hands flat against the wall as your body roughly hit the wall from ony's thrust. because of his fast pace and roughness, you were about to cum.

"fuck... on.... cum...." was all you could manage from the way his dick fucked you senseless.

"you cumming ma? yeahhhh good girl. tell me how good it feels." he groaned angling his hips to fuck you even better. you let out a squeal 'feels s'good' as his dick hit every spot that made you come undone. "fuck i'm behind you, cum wit me baby." he moaned leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"oh my god onyyyy..." you whined as you came all over his cock ony followed cumming into the condom. your cream painting his cock white as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

"so good for me," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath.

"ooo shit," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath. “gotta… hurry up,” he huffed grabbing paper towels and wetting them to wipe in between your legs. 

he cleaned you up and helped you put back on your clothes. he pulled up his pants and helped you get situated before you both were ready to leave. as you opened up the door reiner was about to knock on the door. his eyes wide looking between the two of you with a knowing look. 

“if i ain’t know no better i’d think the two of ya was fuckin’.” he said in his thick country accent and you looked up at ony who looked down at you. “i’m just fuckin’ wit y’all.” he laughed letting the two of you out to go inside and use the bathroom. the two of you laughed at that awkward moment until you walked up to the table. everyone was looking up at the two of you and down at your legs.

“shit.” ony mumbled and you looked down, there was a rip in the inner thing of your bodysuit.

“they was fucking!” eren laughed and mikasa hit his arm telling him to hush.

“we gon’ go.” ony said grabbing your arm as the two of you left out of waffle house.

“how did this happen? you took it off!” you whined as you both got in the car and ony drove you home.

“i mean i heard a rip but i thought that was the zipper.” ony grumbled and you snapped your head to look at him.

“you what?” you yelled and he laughed.

“oops?”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　NOT AN UBER DRIVER

⋆౨ৎ˚ — matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where a very much drunk Y/N, glasses-less, and leaving a party, hops into what she thinks is her Uber, only to be greeted by Matt, a cute guy who is definitely not her Uber driver.

WARNING: Being drunk, feeling sick.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I saw this TikTok last week and thought 'why not?', it felt like a funny idea, so I hope yall like it 🤍.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The bass thumped through the pavement, the kind of deep, rolling sound that reverberated in her bones and made the ground feel unsteady beneath her feet.

Or maybe that was just the tequila. Hard to tell.

Either way, the party was starting to blur together, flashes of neon lights, the distant echo of laughter, the lingering scent of something vaguely sweet and smoky in the air.

Y/N blinked, trying to focus on her phone screen. The tiny glowing numbers refused to sit still, swimming in and out of focus as she squinted at them.

Where the hell were her glasses?

Right. In her purse. Or maybe on someone’s table. Or maybe gone forever. It didn’t really matter at this point. What mattered was that her Uber was here.

Probably.

The app had just pinged her, and that was her cue to leave.

With the kind of confidence only a drunk girl could have, she swiped a hand through her hair, straightened her posture like that would somehow make her seem more composed, and made her way toward the line of parked cars outside the mansion. The LA air was cooler out here, crisp against her flushed skin.

She hummed to herself, stumbling slightly as she approached the row of black and silver vehicles. Was it the black Honda? Or the black SUV? Or-

Whatever, doesn’t matter.

Uber drivers always had those tiny stickers on the window, right? Not that she could see them without her glasses.

So, with absolutely no hesitation, Y/N reached for the handle of a random car and slid into the passenger seat like she did this every day. The leather was warm from sitting under the LA heat, the faint scent of something salty and familiar lingering in the air.

She barely had time to register the fact that the driver hadn’t greeted her before she clicked her seatbelt into place and sighed.

"Hey, Uber driver who I don’t know the name of because I don’t have my glasses with me." She said, head lolling slightly to the side as she glanced toward the figure beside her.

Matt Sturniolo was staring at her like he had just witnessed a crime.

His fingers hovered frozen over the fast-food bag in his lap, his wide blue eyes reflecting pure, unfiltered what the actual fuck energy. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just sat there, his grip tightening ever so slightly around a lone onion ring.

Y/N, oblivious to the sheer level of distress she had just caused, frowned at him. Weirdly quiet guy.

Then, without missing a beat, Matt cleared his throat, glanced at his onion ring, and started talking.

"Hey... uh. Do you want an onion ring?"

Y/N blinked at him. Processing.

Then, after too many seconds, she shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

And just like that, she took the onion ring from his fingers - that was already bitten -, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.

The onion ring was good. Like, really good. Crispy, salty, the kind of satisfying crunch that felt almost poetic in the moment. Or maybe that was just her messy taste buds. Either way, Y/N sat there, chewing thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the fact that the guy next to her - her supposed Uber driver - had yet to say much beyond offering her fast food.

She swallowed, then licked a bit of salt off her lip before shifting in her seat. It was only then that she noticed something was... off.

They weren’t moving.

The car was still in park, engine humming softly, headlights illuminating the empty stretch of road ahead.

She furrowed her brows, glancing at him.

"Hey, I’m all good to go!" She announced, clapping her hands together like this was some kind of Uber check-in process. "You can start driving now."

Matt, still mildly stunned and feeling lost, blinked at her. Then, after a pause, he cleared his throat, preparing himself to make her leave his KIA.

"Miss, I'm not-" Matt stopped himself, jaw tensing.

He could think she was insane and reckless all he wanted, but he sure wasn’t about to let a drunk girl figure out how to get home alone. Not in this city. Not when she could barely stand straight without swaying like a damn cartoon character.

He let out a slow exhale, cleaning his dirty fingers on the napkin laying above the car console.

"You know what? What’s the address?"

Oh. Right. Addresses.

Y/N blinked at him, then at her phone, the glowing letters on the screen looking like they were written in an ancient, forbidden language that her brain had no capacity to decipher right now. She squinted hard, her mouth moving in a silent test run before she finally read them aloud, not even realizing that the Uber app would’ve already handled this for her. If he was her Uber driver at all.

Matt just nodded, turning to his GPS and tapping in the location like this was just another casual night.

But just as he finished, a text notification popped up on the screen.

Nick: We’re leaving in 10. U there?

Matt glanced at it for half a second.

And then?

He ignored it.

His fingers hovered over the screen, but instead of bothering to answer, he just drove his attention to the road, shifted gears, and put his car in motion.

The engine hummed smoothly, the low rumble cutting through the quiet night as the car rolled onto the road, the distant echoes of the party fading into the background.

Y/N exhaled dramatically, sinking further into the passenger seat, trying to focus on the soft hum of the car rather than the growing ache in her head.

After a beat, she glanced over at Matt - really looked at him for the first time. His dark shirt, the way his fingers decorated with silver rings drummed lightly on the steering wheel, the faint glow of streetlights casting sharp angles across his bearded face making his features pop in the kind of way that made her want to run a hand through her hair and pretend she wasn’t so clearly out of it.

He was cute. Like, annoyingly cute.

"Are all Ubers that work past midnight this pretty?" She asked, her words dripping with playful sincerity.

Matt’s eyes widened, his grip on the wheel tightening just a little as his mouth opened, and then, realizing he wasn’t choking on anything, he did exactly that, choked on nothing. For a split second, he glanced at her, looking like a deer caught in headlights before snapping his gaze back to the road.

"What?" He asked, his voice going a little higher than usual, almost like a weird, adorable squeak.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, tilting her head like she was explaining the weather.

"I mean, it’s a fair question, right? I feel like this must be an exclusive, midnight-only service you’ve got going here."

Matt’s eyes flicked over to her again, his face a mixture of confusion, shock, and something a lot like embarrassment. He cleared his throat as if it would somehow help him regain some composure, but it only made the situation more awkward, and infinitely more endearing.

"... I... I’m not-" He atarted, though his voice was barely a whisper as he struggled to keep his attention on the road.

"Wait." She interrupted him abruptly, turning fully toward him now, gasping softly. "Are you one of those cool Uber drivers?"

Matt let out a breathy, shocked laugh through his nose, shaking his head with the sudden change of humor.

"What- what do you mean ‘cool Uber driver’?"

"You know." She gestured vaguely. "The ones who let me blast my music and give me free snacks."

Matt hummed, tilting his head in mock consideration.

"I don’t know. What kind of music are we talking?"

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest.

"As if that’s even a question. The best kind, duh."

Matt raised a brow. For him, the best kind was Mac Miller.

"Which is...?"

She grinned, already reaching for his aux cord like it was her car.

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you."

Matt didn’t stop her. He just exhaled another amused breath through his nose, watching through the corner of his eye as she scrolled furiously through her playlists, her brows furrowing in deep concentration. Then, with a triumphant little hum, she hit play.

The car instantly filled with the unmistakable opening notes of Tik Tok by Kesha.

Matt’s grip on the steering wheel twitched. Y/N, completely unbothered, turned to him with the most serious expression possible.

"This is non-negotiable. You must sing."

Matt scoffed.

"I must?"

"It’s a legally binding agreement the second Kesha starts playing." She said matter-of-factly.

Matt shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself.

"I don’t think that’s how the law works."

"You think the law has power over Kesha?" She gasped. "Over me?"

Matt laughed. A real laugh this time. Low and warm and easy.

Nick would've loved her.

Y/N, taking this as a win, nodded firmly before dramatically belting out the lyrics, all while drumming her hands against her thighs like this was a full-on concert.

"BEFORE I LEAVE BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A BOTTLE OF JACK-"

Matt winced.

"Jesus Christ."

"- CAUSE WHEN I LEAVE FOR THE NIGHT, I AIN'T COMING BACK!"

Matt, to his credit, didn’t crash the car. He just huffed out another laugh, shaking his head as he reached into the Burger King bag and held out another onion ring.

"Here. Please, for the love of God, chew."

Y/N gasped again, snatching the onion ring dramatically.

"Are you trying to silence me?"

"A little bit."

She narrowed her eyes, biting into it slowly, all while maintaining intense eye contact.

"You fear my talent."

Matt let out a small chuckle, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

"I fear for my eardrums."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, taking another bite of the onion ring. She chewed happily for a few seconds, but then, suddenly, her jaw slowed.

A weird, unsettling feeling rolled through her stomach like a warning siren, and before she could process it, nausea hit her like a wave. Everything inside her flipped, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. She swallowed thickly, her throat tightening, her whole body stilling.

Matt noticed instantly.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, his voice dipping into something soft, immediately catching onto her discomfort.

His reaction was so quick that before she could even think, he had already taken one hand off the wheel, reaching toward her. His fingers brushed against hers, gently but firmly taking the half-eaten onion ring from her grasp, tossing it effortlessly back into the bag.

And then, without a moment's hesitation, he paused the song and rolled down her window.

The cool night air rushed inside, hitting her face in a gentle, relieving gust, playing with the strands of her hair and making them dance in the wind, cooling down her warm face.

Matt's hand went back to the wheel, but his eyes flicked toward her every couple of seconds.

"You good? Want me to pull over?"

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the fresh air like it was her lifeline. Her fingers gripped the side of the seat, her head tilting slightly toward the breeze, trying to ground herself.

"Ugh, no, no, I'm fine." She muttered, still a little off-balance. "It just hit me weird. I think my stomach was like, 'Oh, cool, fried food after a night of drinking? Let's ruin this bitch'."

Matt huffed a small laugh.

"Yeah, well, if your stomach starts a full-on rebellion, let me know before it declares war all over my car."

"Don't be mean about it, Uber driver."

Y/N’s voice came out small and pouty, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically as she turned toward him, blinking slowly to ward off the dizziness that followed the nausea.

Matt glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying so hard not to laugh at the ridiculous, genuinely heartbroken expression on her face.

"I wasn’t being mean-"

"Yes, you were."

"I was just-"

"So mean."

Her voice wobbled just slightly, and suddenly Matt’s stomach dropped.

Oh, shit.

She was about to cry.

Matt had never dealt with a drunk, emotional person before, and definitely not a stranger one. His brain scrambled for literally anything to do, anything at all, before full-on tears started spilling down her cheeks.

"Hey, no. Don't cry, sweetheart."

The second the pet name left his lips, Y/N’s entire demeanor shifted.

Her tears stopped, and her face softened, lips slightly parted, like she had just witnessed a miracle.

"Sweetheart?"

Matt froze.

Oh, fuck.

Matt glanced around, suddenly feeling too warm, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel like it was his lifeline. His heart was pounding, and she was still staring at him, blinking up at him like he had just given her the most precious gift in the world.

And he needed to fix this immediately.

Without another word, he reached for the smart screen, his fingers quickly tapping it to press play on the song he had paused minutes before.

The second the sound of Kesha's voice blasted through the car again, Y/N’s mood did a complete 180°. Her face lit up, eyes widening as if she had just been brought back to life.

"Oh, shit- KESHA!"

And just like that, everything was gone.

The near-tears were gone, the heartbreak about his comment had vanished, and she was singing again, full volume, completely unapologetic, her hands moving wildly as she danced in her seat.

Matt let out a slow breath, his heart still beating too fast.

Between a 2000's song here and drunk comments there about how she ended up taking way too many jello shots with a dude named Brad who refused to say what he actually did for life or how she ended up getting locked in a bathroom because some drunk couple mistook the stall for a VIP lounge, the car slowed, turning onto a familiar street.

Matt glanced at his GPS, then out the window, before finally shifting into park. He reached for the smart screen, lowering the volume to a minimum before looking at her, voice soft.

"Alright, this is you."

Y/N blinked, then turned her head to look outside.

And- oh.

It was her place.

Huh.

For a second, she just... stared at it. The streetlights, the familiar shape of her front door, the welcome mat that she’d impulsively bought months ago because it said "Hot Girls Live Here".

She chewed on her lip, hesitating for half a second before sighing dramatically.

"Welp. Bye bye, mister Uber driver."

Matt hummed, nodding, but didn’t say anything. So she grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.

The second she swung it open and stepped out, however, the ground tilted.

Okay, not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. Her legs wobbled, the world spinning ever so slightly, and before she could even blink, a warm hand wrapped around her arm, steadying her.

"Whoa, hey."

Y/N blinked down at him, her vision slightly wobbly, her brain playing catch-up.

Matt was still in his seat, halfway over the center console, one arm stretched out to keep her from completely face-planting onto the pavement. His fingers curled securely around her forearm, firm but careful, like she was a newborn deer that had just taken its first, very questionable, steps.

"Damn, got two left feet there, huh?" He muttered, lips twitching. "You good?"

Y/N laughed way too hard than any sober person would. Like, actual tears in her eyes hard. And then, as if to prove just how not good she was, she swayed again before flopping back onto the seat with a little bounce.

Matt raised a brow, biting back his own chuckle. It wasn’t even a good joke.

Still giggling, Y/N reached out blindly, pressing a palm to his arm.

"You’re so funny."

However, her face falls shortly after, her brows knitting together, laced with a curious gaze as she slides her fingers around his skin in search of the swallows inked onto his whole arm.

Matt tensed slightly, watching her fingertips skate across the ink on his forearm, brushing over lines and shading with gentle curiosity.

"Having fun there?" He wet his lips.

"Yeah." She nodded enthusiastically - too enthusiastically, because a second later, she froze as dizziness smacked into her like a truck for the second time.

Matt swore internally. His skin was heating way too much for a guy who had a fully intoxicated girl petting his arm like it was a damn artifact.

Okay. Time to move.

"Alright!" His voice came out way louder than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He cleared his throat again, slowly untangling his arm from her grasp. "Stay right there."

And before she could even attempt a protest, he was already moving.

Y/N blinked as she watched him step out, rounding the front of the car in a few easy strides. His shirt riding up slightly, his keys jingling from his belt loop, his hair shifting slightly with the breeze.

And then, suddenly, he was right in front of her.

Without hesitation, he reached for her purse on the ground, slinging it over his own shoulder, and held out a hand.

"C’mon."

Y/N just stared at him. Then at his hand. Then at his very serious expression. Her brain took a moment before her arm finally moved.

The moment Matt’s fingers wrapped around Y/N’s hand, his skin was all she could feel.

His palm was warm, the kind of warmth that felt steadying. But it wasn’t just that. It was smooth, too, except for the slightly rougher patches right at the base of his fingers - the callouses from years of drumming.

Her drunken brain latched onto the detail immediately.

"Oh, wow." She blurted out, squeezing his hand. "Your hands are so soft. Like silk."

Matt blinked, looking at their joined hands for a second before glancing back up at her, his lips twitching.

"First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered."

Y/N hummed dramatically, still holding onto him.

"You should be. It’s a big deal."

Matt let out a small chuckle before giving her fingers a quick, firm squeeze back.

With a giggle, Y/N finally let herself be pulled up, swaying a little too much in the process, but before she could even stumble, Matt moved, gently grabbing her arm, pulling it over his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

And wow.

Wow.

He was warm. And solid. And smelled like onion rings and rich cologne and some kind of softness that made her stomach flip in ways she refused to unpack right now.

"Watch your feet."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt had no idea what time it was when they finally reached her porch, but it was definitely late. The kind of late that made the streetlights buzz a little louder, the air feel a little colder, and his patience with this drunk, ridiculous girl stretch dangerously thin.

Not that he actually minded.

If anything, it was insanely cute how she was just sitting there now, slumped in the wooden chair like some kind of defeated heroine. Her arms were dangling off the armrests, legs stretched out in front of her, head tilted back dramatically, and mascara forming black trails below her eyes.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I said stay still."

Y/N let out a deep, theatrical sigh, still moving her legs like a swing.

"I am still."

Matt exhaled through his nose.

"No, you’re not. You’re-" He gestured vaguely toward her. "You'll fall from there."

She waved a limp hand in his direction.

"Whatever."

Matt groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He had the idea that trying to argue with a drunk person was a lost cause, so instead of wasting his breath, he turned to the front door.

And then realized the next problem.

She wasn’t going to open it.

Because she was currently treating that wooden chair like it was a swing and she was a kid after school time.

Matt turned back to her, eyebrows raised.

"You got your keys?"

Y/N, still dramatically draped over the chair, gave him a lazy thumbs-up.

"Yup."

Matt stared at her expectantly.

She didn’t move.

Matt sighed.

"Okay. Where?"

Y/N blinked up at him. Then, as if the idea had just occurred to her, she pointed toward the black purse still dangling off his shoulder.

Matt stared at it, then back at her.

"Can I open it?"

Y/N, without even lifting her head, simply flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture.

Matt huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"That’s not an answer."

She made the motion again, this time more dramatic.

Matt rolled his eyes but obeyed, carefully pulling the purse to the front of him and unzipping it. He was quick in the way he searched, making sure not to look too closely at whatever chaos was inside.

Luckily, it didn’t take long.

After just a few seconds, his fingers closed around a set of keys, the keychain a glittery pink monstrosity.

Matt smirked.

Shaking his head, he straightened up and moved to the front door, unlocking it with ease before turning back toward her.

And then came the next problem.

Because the second he reached out to help her stand, he realized just how much of a mess this was about to be.

Y/N, for all her earlier confidence, was absolutely useless on her feet now.

Like, actually useless.

The moment he pulled her up, she practically folded against him, her entire body weight leaning into his chest like she had no bones whatsoever.

"Jesus, dude." Matt barely had time to adjust, his arms scrambling to keep her upright. "You gotta help me here."

Y/N, her cheek now fully pressed against his shoulder, let out a content sigh.

"Mmm, comfy."

Matt let out a silent scream into the night.

This was impossible.

He couldn’t just drag her inside like some kind of caveman, and carrying her? Not happening. He wasn't the weakest, sure, but she was a whole human person.

So, instead, he opted for shuffling.

Painfully.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

It was a process, but eventually, after what felt like an entire century, he managed to get her through the front door.

And the moment they stepped inside, he was hit with her world.

From the soft, warm lighting to the overflowing bookshelf in the corner to the cozy, mismatched cushions draped over the couch to the little Polaroid pictures stuck to the fridge.

It was lived-in, personal, comforting.

Matt blinked, taking it in for half a second before remembering the deadweight in his arms.

With a final exhale, he maneuvered them toward the big couch, practically collapsing with her as he eased her down, making sure she didn’t just flop like a ragdoll.

Once she was settled, he knelt beside her, hesitating before brushing some stray hair from her eyes.

"You good?"

Y/N, blinking sleepily up at him, nodded.

"Mhm."

Matt sighed, patting her knee.

"You should lay down."

Y/N huffed, but obliged, shifting so she could stretch out across the cushions.

Matt watched her for a second, waiting.

"You comfortable?"

Y/N, eyes half-lidded, gave him a slow, lazy grin.

"I would be more comfortable if you cuddled me, blue eyes."

Matt froze.

Yeah, okay. He should definitely go.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The unforgiving brightness of the sun pierced through Y/N’s closed eyelids, an intrusive, blaring light that made her face scrunch in discomfort.

Weird.

Her room had blackout curtains, ones she had spent way too much money on to ensure that early mornings wouldn’t include the added torture of daylight exposure.

Her brows knit together, confusion settling in before she even opened her eyes.

And then, slowly, she did.

Only to be met with the wrong ceiling.

Y/N blinked, her brain sluggishly catching up to the fact that this was not her bedroom.

Then, she registered other things; her body feeling heavy under too many layers of clothes, the sticky sensation of dried makeup clinging to her skin, and, worst of all, the absolute tragedy happening inside her mouth.

She groaned, twisting her face in pure disgust. It tasted like something had died on her tongue, and she vaguely remembered drinking... tequila? And maybe some kind of mystery cocktail that some random stranger shoved at her, saying it was a "game changer".

A game changer in what? Making her suffer?

Y/N sat up, immediately regretting it as a sharp, pounding pain erupted behind her eyes. Jesus Christ.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hands pressing against her temples in an attempt to soothe the pain, but nothing helped. It was the kind of deep, bone-vibrating headache that made every movement feel like an earthquake inside her skull.

After a minute - or maybe five - she finally forced herself to function.

She opened her eyes again, and this time, she really looked around.

Oh.

She was in her living room.

The TV. The coffee table. The faint scent of her vanilla-scented candle that had long since burned out.

Right.

Her mind buzzed, trying to connect the blurry pieces of last night.

The party. The drinks. The decision to go home.

And then... the Uber driver.

Y/N frowned, blinking slowly.

Her eyes drifted downward, and that’s when she noticed the glass of water and the bottle of painkillers sitting neatly on the table.

Her brows lifted in surprise.

Wow.

So, not only did the Uber driver make sure she got home safely, but he also took care of her after the fact?

Because she knows her drunk version, and she couldn't even sit straight.

That was... suspiciously thoughtful.

Y/N shrugged to herself, grabbing the glass and the medicine without question, tossing the pill against her tongue and gulping down the water like her life depended on it. And, honestly? It kind of did. The cool liquid washed away the awful taste in her mouth, making her sigh in relief.

And then-

BRRRRRRING.

Y/N flinched, eyes snapping toward the sudden noise.

Her phone.

Where the hell was it?

She groaned, rummaging around the blanket that was still wrapped around her before realizing. Her purse.

She reached over, dragging it toward herself, and as soon as she dug inside, her fingers wrapped around her phone.

She unlocked it immediately, her eyebrows furrowing as she scanned the recent notifications.

And that’s when she saw it.

A string of messages from her Uber app.

Her actual Uber driver.

UBER: Your driver has arrived.

UBER: Your driver is waiting.

UBER: Your driver is still waiting.

UBER: Your driver will be leaving soon.

UBER: Your driver has canceled your ride.

Oh.

Oh.

Her brain stuttered, slowly putting the pieces together.

So... she didn’t get into her Uber last night.

She left the poor guy stranded outside the party, probably cursing her existence, while she happily hopped into some random car.

Shit.

Y/N blinked down at her screen, processing the absolute chaos of her life choices when something caught her eye.

A small, folded note - clearly from her very much old notebook above her TV table - sitting neatly beside her purse, right below her hands.

Her brows lifted again.

She reached for it, flipping it open while glancing back at her phone, her brain still half-focused on her Uber driver’s angry messages.

And then, as she read the words, her heart did a weird little thing in her chest.

"Call me whenever you need a cool Uber driver again. Or, y’know, if you just wanna talk."

- Matt

Y/N stared at the note.

Then back at her phone.

Then back at the note.

And finally, it clicked.

She hadn’t just gotten into a random car last night.

She had gotten into a random guy’s car.

A very cute, very cool random guy’s car.

And instead of kidnapping her or doing something worse, he drove her home, tucked her in, left her water and medicine, and even gave her his number?

Y/N stared at the note for a long second, brain short-circuiting.

Then, she let out a laugh - soft and disbelieving - before grinning to herself.

Well.

This was definitely going to be interesting.

[andromeda-collective]

i have multiple and im going to mention all of them but im starting with THIS FUCKER HERE (blade from honkai star rail) AND I HAVE A VERY STUPID REASON FOR IT

there was an minigame thing with a character named march 7th (dont ask) and there were little events you could encounter throughout it and one of them was that you had to choose between a red and blue pill (or the third option of giving a nonanswer) and since my choice didnt matter at all i went with the red pill because i know that the matrix is a transfem allegory and i also hc march as transfem but then another character made a little comment that blade would ALSO pick the red pill which completely makes sense for his character but since i was still on the transfem allegory mindset i had the thought of "wait does this make blade transfem??" so shes transfem to me now 👍

estrogen would NOT save her. not even REMOTELY. he's a suicidal immortal who physically cannot die because of a ritual his old friend-with-romantic-implications tried who he now wants dead more than anything else. hes basically possessed by evil plants that revive him every time he dies and he goes fucking feral. hes a mass murderer with a bounty of over 8 billion. nothing can save him. but transitioning might make her miserable life slightly more manageable? plus i mean.. throwing your old name away and being a new person? obviously a metaphor for being trans /j

boothill! this is slightly for shipping reasons (turning a het ship wlw for funzies) but mostly projecting my gender-nonconforming transness onto the only southern disabled character i know of. are we different kinds of southern? yes. are we different kinds of disabled? also yes. do i care? absolutely not. (also because butch southern women make the world go round)

also sampo because the idea that this fuck is a cisgender ANYTHING is laughable. this is a nonbinary transfem boymoding for shits and giggles who randomly switches to the girl voice when talking to someone JUST to fuck with them because nobody else would believe them and the person would think theyre losing it. typical masked fool stuff. gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

and then from genshin impact: zhongli. who has CANONICALLY used shapeshifting to become a woman. and has likely done so on more than one occasion. this guy is CANONICALLY GENDERFLUID WHETHER PEOPLE LIKE IT OR NOT. and you can obviously be genderfluid and transfem at the same time so why the hell not :D

most other characters i hc as transfem i dont have much of a reason for, but im gonna list them anyways cause hell yeah

argenti (hsr) - she can have a little estrogen as a treat

dr. ratio (hsr) - no reason i just think it could work

sunday (hsr) - something something religious-trauma-and-giving-into-what-you-once-believed-to-be-sinful

diluc (genshin) - fanfiction on ao3 changed my brain chemistry

kazuha (genshin) - also no reason i just think it fits

sebastian solace (a game on roblox called pressure) - im gonna be honest with you op, i just like putting this fucker in situations. and i would love to see the struggle of medically transitioning when you've been forcibly had your body and dna altered to the point of no longer being human. even ignoring for a few seconds the thought that maybe hrt wouldnt have the same effect (or any effect at all) due to the experiments, how could you will yourself to alter yourself medically in any way after the horrific trauma you've experienced? its between fucking with your already fucked up body or having the dysphoria kill you from the inside out. i am rotating her in my mind even harder now.

p.ai.nter (from same game) on the other hand? a lot simpler. make the ai with guns a girl. also just a funny idea: you know that "put eyelashes on it to make it obvious that its a girl" thing? yeah. painter doing that.

^ TELL ME SHE WOULDNT.

i would apologize for the essay but you did say i was legally required to share so this is your fault /lh

anyways i hope you enjoyed the women

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[littelovelunette]

Gamble Gone Wrong

Sevika x F!reader

Content warning: NSFW, gambling, rough sex, strap on, butt plug, anal, spanking, degradation, spitting, implication of shower sex, vaginal sex, choking, cnc, eating out

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I don't wanna play, Sev,” you had said, “I'm sometimes either too good or too bad. Neither will look good to you.”

“Just give it a go, one time won't hurt,” Sevika had said, smoking her cigarette with a cocky grin.

… That cocky grin was slapped right off her face after you won, ruining her winning streak and practically throwing the pieces of her dignity over her head like confetti.

“It's okay, baby, I don't like poker anyway, hey, hey, it's okay,” you immediately began trying to comfort Sevika who looked a little baffled for a while before she slammed her fist down, grabbing you and sweeping you off your feet.

You giggled as Sevika took you to your shared bedroom, pinning you down to the bed with a grunt.

Sevika pushed you down against the bed, kissing you hard and sloppily. You laughed a little in the kiss, Sevika was mad at you and you were aware of that. Mainly because you beat her in Poker.

You gasped as Sevika grabbed your panties and tore them off, “Those were expensive, y’know?” you mumbled as Sevika made you get onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed.

“I'll get ya’ 10 more,” Sevika answered before delving two fingers into your pussy, drawing out the slick wetness, “You get off by getting me pissed huh?” Sevika slapped your ass leaving a red handprint.

“Mhm, I do, what are you gonna do about it?” you grinned a little, your eyes fixed on the bed sheets as you tried to understand Sevika's actions by the touch only.

Sevika didn't answer you, and then you felt the end of a fairly large butt plug against her asshole, “Shit,” you cursed under your breath, “Sev, that's too big.” you managed out, legs trying to close but Sevika held them open with her mech hand.

Sevika laughed, her laugh a mixture of cruelty and dominance as she spat on your genitalia, rubbing the wet saliva over your asshole and pussy before she pushed the buttplug in harshly.

“O-ow…” you bit your bottom lip as you felt the toy invade your insides and stretch you, the burning stretch threatening to swallow you whole.

“You're taking it so well though, such a slut. Don't tell me you've been touching yourself back here,” Sevika taunted.

How did she know…?

“I…- I have,” you mumbled back.

Sevika's eyes widened a little and she sputtered, “Yo, wha-...”

“I have touched myself back there before,” you said a bit more firmly this time. Sevika, although shocked for a bit, quickly regained her composure and slapped your ass, “Dirty little slut, aren't you?”

You moaned at the sensation and trembled a little, feeling Sevika turned you onto her back. Sevika pulled your legs apart, a little smirk appearing on her dark lips.

“You look so sexy from here,” Sevika undressed you and did so herself too before stepping back to put her strap on.

It was purple, dark purple and huge, the veins and ridges, the sheer length of it made your skin crawl with hunger and need. You had to fight the urge to simply moan at the mere thought of feeling that toy stretching out your insides and reaching so deep within your pussy.

You were brought back to reality when Sevika grabbed your breasts, pinching and pulling at the nipples, her mech arm provided coldness against your nub and her flesh hand made it feel warm.

“A-ah, daddy…”

Sevika smirked, rubbing the tip of the dildo on your slit.

“Like it, don't you? Of course you do, you're a cute little slut for me. All spread out and needy, look at you dripping all over the sheets,” Sevika taunted, her hands moving to grab your hips tightly, bruises appearing.

“Want daddy to fuck your insides up?” She asked, as she looked at you, you couldn't help but nod helplessly.

“Yes, daddy, give it to me…” you said, that was it.

All restraints broke when Sevika grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider as she slammed in her huge dildo inside your hole, making your wet pussy squelch and tighten further over the intruding object.

“Oh, Sev!—” you moaned but then got cut off when Sevika grabbed your chin, “What did you call me?” her voice was low and simply a growl.

She forced your mouth open, spitting inside before her hands traced down to your neck, choking you as she thrusted at a violent pace making the bed creak in protest. Her thrusts were sloppy and relentless, angered and brutal. Your toes curled at the sensation as you moaned quite loudly. You were sure anyone at a 20 feet proximity knew how hard Sevika was fucking you right now.

You managed to choke out a moan, Sevika's hand still choking you, the pain felt so delicious. Tears appeared in your eyes and Sevika pulled her hand away from your throat, grabbing the underside of your thighs Sevika lifted your legs onto her shoulders.

Sevika managed to reach deeper, slamming the dildo against your g-spot, abusing your hole thoroughly. “My stomach…”

Sevika laughed at your mindless blabbering and looked down at the dildos imprint on your lower abdomen only making her smirk more, her pace heightening.

“I'll ruin your fucking holes. You're mine, got me?”

Your eyes closed tightly as you felt the buttplug starting to slip out of your asshole no matter how much you tried to clench it in.

“Daddy, the plug..” you managed through the violent thrusts

“Hm?”

You whined as she gave particularly harsh thrust making the buttplug slip out of your asshole with an almost comical pop. Sevika looked down and smirked, “Tight ass, huh?”

Sevika pulled the dildo out of your pussy, white residue shining on the purple strap as she, without any warning, thrusted the dildo into your asshole.

“Daddy!” You screamed out. Sevika grabbed both your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs up and folding you easily as she thrusted the strap all the way inside.

Sevika continued pumping the strap with a smirk on her face, she could do this for hours.

“Daddy, please, I can't anymore,” you whimpered, hands clawing at the bedsheets desperately but Sevika didn't cease.

“You can and you will,” Sevika growled, moving faster until you squirted all over her lower abdomen, her bush and abs.

Sevika pulled the dildo out of your now gaping asshole, finger tracing the reddened rim.

“So well, baby,” Sevika said as she pulled your legs down, her head disappearing between your thighs as she delicately licked and sucked your pussy, cleaning you off your own juices.

“Daddy, no… d-d-daddy, I can't…” you sobbed but Sevika didn't let up and continued sucking until you eventually cam again.

Sevika got up after that, smiling a little as she cradled your trembling body, “Did so so good for me,” she kissed your forehead.

“Want a shower?”

“You'll just fuck me in there.”

“You'll like it.”

“Let's go.”

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

 “I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her.  “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?”  she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

[astrxq]

Borrowed Time

modern!cregan stark x reader

words: 17.4k

notes: this was requested!!

You were in the middle of highlighting your history notes when Sara dropped into the seat across from you, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. Before you could even ask what she wanted, Jace appeared beside her, wearing an equally suspicious grin.

"No," you said immediately, returning to your notes. "Whatever it is, no."

"You haven't even heard what we're going to say," Jace protested, pulling out a chair and settling in. The library was quiet around you, afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

"I don't need to hear it. That look on both your faces means trouble," you said, capping your highlighter. "Last time you had that look, we ended up getting kicked out of that coffee shop on Fifth."

"That was one time," Sara waved her hand dismissively. "And the barista was totally overreacting. How were we supposed to know the chairs weren't meant to be stacked?"

"They were clearly not meant to be stacked, Sara."

"Ancient history," Jace cut in, leaning forward. "This is actually about your academic future. We're putting together a study group for Martinez's class."

You paused, eyeing them both suspiciously. "Political Science?"

"The very same," Sara nodded, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "The one you were ranting about last week at dinner. What was it you said? Something about how the theories were, and I quote, 'slowly sucking your soul out through your eyeballs'?"

"I was being dramatic," you muttered, though you couldn't quite meet her eyes. The truth was, you'd been struggling more than you wanted to admit.

"Were you though?" Jace reached over and picked up your textbook, flipping through the rainbow of highlighted pages. "Because this looks like a cry for help. What does pink even mean?"

You snatched the book back. "Pink is for... important things."

"Everything is highlighted pink!"

"Everything is important!"

Sara tried to suppress her laugh but failed. "This is exactly why you need our study group. We've got a solid plan – twice a week, two hours max. We can share notes, discuss the readings..."

"Who else is in it?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as suspicion crept in. They were being far too enthusiastic about this.

The look Sara and Jace exchanged was quick, but you caught it. Years of friendship had taught you to recognize their silent conversations.

Sara said carefully, suddenly very interested in straightening her sleeve. "Me, Jace... and my brother."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. Cregan. Of course it would be Cregan. Sara's half-brother, Jace's best friend, and quite possibly the most intimidating person you'd ever met – not because he was mean or hostile, but because he seemed to exist in a completely different orbit than yours despite sharing the same friend group. You'd seen him plenty of times over the past year, usually deep in animated conversation with Jace or quietly sitting while the rest of you chatted. He'd never been anything but polite, but there was always this careful distance, as if he was deliberately keeping you at arm's length.

"Your brother," you repeated slowly. "The one who never speaks to me?"

"He speaks to you!" Sara protested.

"'Excuse me' and ‘can i borrow a pen’ don't count as speaking to me, Sara."

"He's just... quiet," Jace jumped in. "You know how he is. But he's got the highest grade in the class. Like, by a lot. And he actually takes good notes, unlike some people." He pointedly looked at his own notebook, which appeared to be covered in what might have been either class notes or an elaborate doodle of a dragon. It was hard to tell.

You bit your lip, considering. The idea of spending extended time with someone who seemed to find you completely uninteresting wasn't exactly appealing, but you really did need help with the course. And maybe, you thought, it wouldn't be so bad with Sara and Jace there as buffers.

"Fine," you sighed, already wondering if you'd regret this. "But if it gets weird–"

"It won't!" Sara bounced up from her chair, beaming. "First session's tomorrow at four. We'll be in study room C. It's going to be great!"

"Super great!" Jace agreed, gathering his things. "Life-changing, even. You'll thank us later."

As they walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling that they looked far too pleased with themselves.

The next afternoon, you arrived at study room C a few minutes early, half-expecting Jace and Sara to already be there, goofing off or laying out some kind of elaborate prank. But when you pushed the door open, the only person inside was Cregan.  

He looked up from his notebook, brows lifting slightly in surprise before settling back into his usual neutral expression. He was seated at the far end of the table, his laptop open, a few books stacked neatly beside him. Unlike Jace’s chaotic scrawl or Sara’s color-coded monstrosity of a planner, his notes were meticulously organized – paragraphs written in a clean, even script, highlighted sparingly.  

You hesitated in the doorway. “Am I early?”  

Cregan shook his head. “They’re late.”  

That sounded about right. You stepped inside, setting your bag down as you tried to ignore the awkward weight of silence stretching between you. Cregan didn’t offer any small talk, just went back to his notes, flipping a page with practiced ease.  

You exhaled slowly, pulling out your own notebook and flipping it open. A moment passed. Then another. The silence became unbearable.  

“So,” you said, glancing at him. “You actually volunteered for this?”  

Cregan’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile there and gone before you could fully register it. “Not exactly.”  

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Let me guess. Sara roped you into it?”  

“She has a way of convincing people.”  

“That’s one way to put it,” you muttered, twirling your pen between your fingers. “She didn’t tell me you were basically carrying the class, though.”  

“I wouldn’t say that.”  

“She would. And Jace. Apparently, your notes are legendary.”  

He glanced at you then, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “I just write things down.”  

“Unlike Jace.”  

That actually earned you a short laugh – low and warm, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. Something in your chest tightened at it.  

The door banged open before you could process that feeling, and Sara and Jace tumbled in, both out of breath.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Sara panted, dropping into a chair. “There was a situation.”  

“Jace knocked over a whole display in the library cafe,” she continued as Jace groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “It was tragic.”  

“I maintain it was too close to the counter,” he mumbled into the wood.  

You caught Cregan watching his sister and best friend with what looked like fond exasperation, and for a moment, you envied how easy they all were with each other. How naturally they fit together. You'd known Jace since freshman year, and through him, Sara, but Cregan had always felt like someone just out of reach – present but never quite part of your circle.

"Right," Sara said, finally catching her breath. "Where were we? Political theory? The reading responses due next week?"

"The Weber analysis," Cregan supplied quietly, and you noticed how his voice changed when he spoke to them – looser, more familiar. It shouldn't have bothered you, but something about it sat heavy in your stomach.

"Oh right, Weber," Jace lifted his head from the table, suddenly animated. "The guy with all the bureaucracy stuff."

"That's... one way to put it," Cregan said, and you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice. He turned to a specific page in his notebook, and you watched as he easily fell into conversation with Jace about the reading, their words flowing back and forth with the ease of years of friendship.

You tried to focus on your own notes, but your attention kept drifting to the way Cregan's entire demeanor had shifted. Gone was the careful restraint from earlier – now his hands moved as he spoke, emphasizing points about social stratification and authority structures. His voice carried more inflection, and occasionally he'd even smile at Jace's terrible political theory puns.

"Hey," Sara's voice was soft beside you, making you jump slightly. You hadn't even noticed her move closer. "You okay? You're kind of staring at your blank page pretty intensely."

"What? Oh, yeah," you quickly scribbled down the date, just to look busy. "Just trying to keep up."

Sara hummed thoughtfully, her eyes darting between you and her brother. "You know," she said, keeping her voice low, "he's not actually as intimidating as he seems."

"I don't find him intimidating," you protested, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Right," she drawled, clearly unconvinced. "That's why you've barely said two words to him in the past year."

"That's not true," you started, but she cut you off with a knowing look.

"It's okay. He's not great at... people. Well, new people," she amended, glancing at her brother who was now rolling his eyes at something Jace had said. "Just give it time."

Before you could respond, Cregan's voice cut through your whispered conversation: "If we're actually going to study, we should probably start with the main concepts."

You looked up to find him watching you and Sara, his expression unreadable once again. The warmth from his conversation with Jace had vanished, replaced by that familiar distance that made you feel like you were somehow intruding, even though you'd been invited to be there.

"Right," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "The main concepts. Of course."

As he began outlining Weber's theory of social action, you couldn't help but wonder if Sara was right about giving it time. Because right now, it felt like no amount of time would bridge whatever carefully maintained distance Cregan seemed determined to keep between you.

About halfway through the session, Jace let out a dramatic sigh, slumping back in his chair. "I can't focus. The lights in here are way too bright."

Sara snorted. "The lights are fine, you big baby."

"No, they're definitely giving me a headache," Jace insisted, throwing an arm over his eyes. "We should do this somewhere else next time. Like, I don't know..." He paused for effect. "My place?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You mean the apartment that looked like a tornado hit it last time I was there?"

"It's not that bad!"

"Jace, there was a pizza box being used as a mousepad."

A low chuckle came from across the table, and you looked over to find Cregan trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. The sound made your stomach do that weird flip again.

"See?" Jace gestured wildly. "Even Cregan agrees we should move locations. It's his apartment too, and he's much neater than me."

"That's not exactly difficult," Cregan murmured, earning another laugh from you.

"Fine, gang up on me," Jace pouted. "But seriously, these lights are killing me."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you actually looked at your notes instead of your phone..."

As they bickered, Cregan turned his attention back to the material at hand. "So, Weber's concept of social action..." He glanced at your notes and paused, taking in the rainbow explosion of highlights and the scattered notes in the margins.

Heat crept up your neck. "I know it's a mess," you said quickly. "I just... highlight things that seem important."

"Everything seems important?" There was no judgment in his voice, just that slight hint of amusement you were starting to recognize.

"Better safe than sorry?" you offered weakly.

He nodded thoughtfully, then slid his notebook slightly closer to you. "Here," he said quietly. "This might help structure it better." His neat handwriting laid out the concepts in clear, logical progression, with key points underlined rather than highlighted.

You leaned in slightly to read, suddenly very aware of how close you were to him. His handwriting was even nicer up close, you noticed, and he'd drawn small diagrams in the margins to illustrate some of the more complex ideas.

"So the rationalization of social action," he began explaining, his voice taking on that teaching tone that made him sound impossibly smart, "can be broken down into these four types..."

You tried to focus on what he was saying, you really did. But there was something about the way he spoke, confident and clear, occasionally gesturing to emphasize a point, that made it hard to concentrate. A strand of dark hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward to point something out, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush it back.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, looking up at you suddenly.

"Oh! Um, yes," you stammered, hoping your face wasn't as red as it felt. "The, uh, the four types of social action. Traditional, affective, value-rational, and..." you trailed off, momentarily distracted by how his eyes seemed to catch the light.

"Instrumental-rational," he finished, his lips quirking slightly. Was he amused by your confusion? "We can go over it again if you need."

"No, no, I got it," you said quickly, even as Jace muttered something about the lights still being too bright. "Just... processing."

Cregan nodded, but you could have sworn there was something softer in his expression now, something less distant than before. But before you could be sure, he was already turning the page, moving on to the next concept, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Sara and Jace exchanging one of their looks – the kind that made you feel like you were missing something obvious. Sara's lips were curved in a knowing smile, while Jace waggled his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a subtle manner.

You furrowed your brows at them, a silent question, but they just smiled back innocently. Too innocently. Sara even had the audacity to wink at you before pretending to be extremely interested in her phone.

"So these social institutions," Cregan continued, completely oblivious to the silent conversation happening across the table, "they form the foundation of Weber's bureaucratic theory." His finger traced under a perfectly written line of text, and you couldn't help but notice how even his bullet points were symmetrical. Who even wrote bullet points that neatly?

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to feel intimidated by how effortlessly he explained complex theories that had taken you hours to barely grasp. He didn't even need to refer to the textbook – everything just seemed to flow from his mind to his lips with perfect clarity. It was almost unfair, really, how someone could be so... academically put together.

"The key thing to remember," he was saying, tapping his pen against a small diagram he'd drawn, "is how these systems of authority interconnect." His voice had that quiet confidence that came from truly understanding something, not just memorizing it.

You nodded, trying to focus on the actual words and not on how his hand moved across the page, or how he'd occasionally glance up to make sure you were following along. The worst part was that he probably thought you were struggling with the material – which you were, but not entirely for the reasons he might assume.

"Makes perfect sense," you heard yourself say, even though your mind had wandered to wondering if he color-coded his closet as meticulously as he organized his notes.

Sara cleared her throat loudly, making you jump slightly. When you looked up, she and Jace were wearing matching grins that made you want to throw your highlighter at them. Whatever they were thinking, whatever they thought they were seeing, you didn't want to hear it.

Cregan glanced between the three of you, a slight crease appearing between his brows. For a moment, you thought he might ask what was going on, but he just turned back to his notes, that familiar distance settling over him again like a shield.

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, telling yourself it didn't matter. You were here to study, not to analyze why your friends were acting weird, or why Cregan's handwriting was unreasonably perfect, or why you suddenly cared so much about either of those things.

***

The next day found you sitting on Jace and Cregan's surprisingly clean couch (at least this part of the apartment), waiting for Sara and Jace who were now twenty minutes late. You'd texted them both twice, receiving only a vague "on our way!" from Sara and a string of random emojis from Jace that made absolutely no sense.

Cregan sat in the armchair across from you, repeatedly adjusting the stack of books on the coffee table between you. First, he aligned them perfectly with the table's edge. Then he shifted them slightly to the left. Then back to center. You watched as he cleared his throat for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes.

When you glanced up at him, he offered a quick, almost shy smile before looking away again. It was strange seeing him in his own space – he seemed both more relaxed and somehow more nervous, his usual composed demeanor slightly cracked.

The silence stretched on, not exactly uncomfortable but definitely not comfortable enough to ignore. You watched as he picked up his notebook, then put it down, then picked it up again.

"So," you finally said, desperate to break the quiet, "this is definitely cleaner than I expected."

His lips twitched. "I may have... tidied up a bit."

"A bit?"

"Jace's room is still a disaster," he admitted, and this time his smile stayed longer. "I drew the line at going in there. For my own safety."

You laughed, remembering the pizza-box mousepad. "Probably wise. I'm pretty sure I saw something move under his laundry pile last time."

"That was last week's sandwich," he said with such perfect deadpan delivery that it took you a moment to realize he was joking. When you did, you couldn't help but laugh again, and something in his posture seemed to relax slightly.

"Please tell me you're joking," you said, though you weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"You know what? No. No, I don't." You shook your head, still smiling. "How do you live with him? I mean, you're so..." you gestured vaguely at his perfectly organized notes.

"Neurotic?" he supplied, but there was amusement in his voice.

"I was going to say organized, but..." you teased, surprised by how easy it suddenly felt to talk to him.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly in a way that was unfairly endearing. "It works, somehow. He's..." Cregan paused, considering his words. "He balances things out. Keeps me from getting too..."

"Neurotic?" you offered, throwing his word back at him.

That earned you another one of those rare laughs, the kind that seemed to surprise even him. "Exactly."

Your phone buzzed then, another text from Sara: Sorry!! Got held up at the library. Start without us? 

You looked up to find Cregan checking his own phone, his expression shifting into something you couldn't quite read. "Let me guess," you said. "They're 'on their way'?"

"Apparently there's a 'situation' at the library," he replied, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Of course there is." You slumped back against the couch. "They're not coming, are they?"

"Probably not," he admitted, and was it your imagination, or did he look almost... pleased about that?

"Wait," you said, frowning at your textbook, where the words had started to blur together after an hour of reading. "What's this part about instrumental rationality? I keep getting it mixed up with the other types." You chewed on your pencil, a nervous habit you'd never managed to break.

Cregan shifted closer on the couch – you'd both migrated there to share the coffee table space – and leaned in to look at where you were pointing. Your knees brushed, and neither of you moved away. The warmth of the contact made it harder to focus on the words in front of you.

"That's the one about achieving specific goals," he explained, his voice softer now that he was closer. "It's about choosing the most efficient means to an end. Like..." He paused, thinking. "Like when someone chooses their actions based purely on what will get them the best outcome."

You nodded, still worrying the pencil between your teeth. "So if I'm studying just to get a good grade rather than because I want to learn..."

"Exactly," he said, and you noticed his eyes flick down to your mouth before quickly returning to the textbook. "Or choosing a major based on job prospects rather than personal interest."

"God, you're really smart," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, immediately feeling heat rush to your face. "Like, really, really smart. How do you just... know all this stuff? It's like you don't even need to study, it's all just there in your head."

A flush crept up his neck, and he ducked his head slightly, messing with the corner of his notebook. "I just... read a lot," he said, running a hand through his hair in what you were starting to recognize as a nervous gesture. "You're probably smarter than me."

You let out a surprised laugh. "That's literally the biggest lie you've ever told, and we both know it." You gestured at your highlight-covered notes, which looked like a rainbow had exploded across them. "I'm pretty sure my brain looks like this on the inside. Just... chaos and color-coding."

"That's not–" he started, then seemed to catch himself. His expression grew serious. "Different people learn differently. It doesn't make you any less intelligent. Besides," his lips quirked up slightly, "your way seems more interesting than mine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, trying to ignore how his knee was still pressed against yours. "What's so interesting about my highlight explosion method?"

He actually smiled then, reaching over to tap one of your particularly colorful pages. "Well, for one thing, I'm genuinely curious about your highlighting system. Pink for important things, you said?"

"Don't make fun of my system," you groaned, but you were smiling too.

"I'm not," he insisted, and his voice had that warm undertone that you'd only heard him use with Jace and Sara before. "I'm serious. At least your notes have personality. Mine are just..."

"Perfect?" you supplied.

He huffed a laugh. "Boring."

"Are you kidding? Your notes are like... they're like art. Look at these diagrams!" You pointed to one of his careful illustrations. "Meanwhile, my attempts at drawing charts look like they were done by a drunk toddler."

"I like your charts," he said quietly, and something in his tone made you look up at him. He was closer than you'd realized, still leaning in to look at your notes. "They're... creative."

You were suddenly very aware of how little space there was between you, how his shoulder was almost brushing yours, how his knee was still pressed against yours. "Creative is a nice way of saying messy," you managed to say.

"No, I mean it. Look–" He started to say something else, but the sound of keys jingling at the door cut him off.

There was a scraping sound, followed by a quiet curse from what sounded like Jace, then more jingling. The key seemed to miss the lock at least three times before the door finally swung open.

"–telling you, they're probably just–" Sara's whispered voice drifted in, cutting off abruptly as she and Jace entered the apartment. They both stood in the doorway, staring at you and Cregan on the couch with your books spread out between you.

Sara's expression shifted from anticipation to something like disappointment, while Jace's eyebrows shot up comically high. "Have you two actually been studying this whole time?" Jace asked, sounding almost accusatory.

You and Cregan exchanged a confused look. "Why wouldn't we be?" you both asked simultaneously, then glanced at each other in surprise.

"No reason!" Sara said quickly, too quickly. "We just thought... I mean, we were gone so long, and you were alone, and..."

"That we'd what?" you prompted, narrowing your eyes at them. "Start a paper airplane competition with our notes?"

"Nothing!" Sara jumped in. "Nothing at all. Just... surprised by all the... studying."

"I mean, that paper plane competition would have been more interesting than Weber," Jace muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs from Sara.

You noticed Cregan shifting slightly beside you, putting a bit more space between your knees, and immediately missed the warmth. "We're in a study group," he said flatly, but there was a tension in his voice that hadn't been there before. "What else would we be doing?"

Sara and Jace exchanged another one of their looks – the kind that made you want to throw your thoroughly chewed pencil at them. "Right," Sara said, dragging out the word. "The study group. Anyway! What did we miss?"

"Weber's theory of rationalization," you said, trying to ignore the knowing smirks they were both wearing. "Which you'd know if you'd actually been at the library like you said."

"We were!" Jace protested, but his guilty expression said otherwise. "There was a whole... thing. With books. And... shelves. Very serious library emergency."

"Very convincing," Cregan muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. You bit back a smile, catching his eye for a moment before quickly looking away.

"Well," Sara declared, dropping into an armchair with far too much enthusiasm, "we're here now. So, instrumental rationality? Anyone? Bueller?"

You groaned, slumping back against the couch. "We literally just went over that."

"Perfect timing then," Jace grinned, sprawling across the other chair. "You can explain it to us. Since you two have been studying so diligently and all."

"Unlike some people," Cregan added dryly, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at Jace's offended expression.

"I've been studying!" Jace protested. "Just... you know, in my own way."

"Is that what you call sleeping with your textbook under your pillow?" Cregan asked, and this time you couldn't hold back your laugh.

As you launched into an explanation of Weber's theories, stumbling only slightly over the terms, you couldn't help but notice how Cregan had angled himself slightly toward you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours as he added clarifying points to your explanation. And if Sara and Jace kept exchanging those irritating knowing looks, well, you decided to ignore them.

Even if you had a sneaking suspicion they might be right about... whatever it was they thought they were seeing.

The study session had stretched into hours, and despite the caffeine you'd consumed, your brain had begun to feel like mush. The terms Sara was repeating, again and again, had started to blur together, an endless loop of rationality and theory that felt more like noise than knowledge. You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, only to open them again when Jace shifted beside you, his legs still sprawled lazily across your lap.

He was mindlessly tracing patterns on the edge of his notebook, his gaze elsewhere, his usual energy faded into something more comfortable. His quiet presence was oddly soothing, though you weren’t sure if it was the weight of his legs or the fact that everything about him seemed to take on a hazy calm in this late hour. You rubbed your temples, trying to clear the fog.

Cregan, who had been quietly following the discussion, had noticed the slight slump of your shoulders, the way your attention drifted. He shifted in his seat across from you, catching your tired gaze.

“How about we take a break?” he suggested, his voice steady but with a hint of warmth you didn’t expect. “Maybe... get some food? Clear our heads a bit?”

Sara perked up at the mention of food, but Jace, still lounging with his legs across your lap, groaned dramatically. “Food sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, though the way he shifted only slightly suggested he wasn’t keen on moving.

“You’re so lazy,” Sara teased him, but it was clear she was ready to indulge.

Cregan shot you an amused look as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. “I’ll order, if you guys want.”

Your stomach had been protesting the lack of proper meals for hours, the idea of food suddenly making your body feel much more alive. "Honestly, I’m starving," you admitted, leaning back into the couch and letting Jace’s legs settle heavier over yours, the comfortable weight of them anchoring you.

Cregan had already moved toward the phone, his tall form cutting through the space between the couch and the table with purposeful strides. 

He’d barely looked at the screen when he muttered about getting “a little bit of everything”, a casual declaration that spoke volumes about his no-nonsense approach to food. You couldn’t help but appreciate the simplicity of it all; he’d just order it all. No one would be left hungry.

You had almost forgotten about Jace, whose legs were still comfortably sprawled across your lap. But now, as he shifted and poked at your side, you found his eyes focused on you, bright with mischief.

“Hey,” he said, the playful note in his voice unmistakable. “Can you come with me to get a glass of water?”

You blinked at him, incredulous. “The kitchen’s, like, five feet away,” you replied, gesturing toward the open space across the room. "You're a big boy. You can go on your own."

“I could really use your help."

You groaned, the weariness in your bones making it hard to argue. “You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, but already, you were pushing yourself off the couch, your hand lightly brushing against his legs as you stood. Jace’s grin widened as you walked toward the kitchen, clearly pleased with himself for getting you to move.

Behind you, Sara was still mumbling terms under her breath, her brother’s voice fading into the background as he handled the phone call. The steady murmur of the conversation didn’t even register in your mind; your focus was solely on Jace, who was trailing behind you with a slow, exaggerated shuffle.

As you entered the kitchen, you turned to face him, expecting him to move toward the cabinet or the tap for a glass. But instead, he simply stood there, looking around aimlessly, as if the very task of getting water had suddenly become an unsolvable puzzle.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Well? What’s the holdup?”

He glanced back at you, his expression one of mock innocence.

"So..." Jace dragged out the word, leaning against the counter with exaggerated casualness. "You and Cregan..."

"Were studying," you finished flatly, already knowing where this was going. "Like we're supposed to be doing."

"Right, right. Just studying." He wiggled his eyebrows. "For two whole hours. Alone. And you didn't think about doing... anything else?"

Heat crept up your neck. "Jace!"

"What?" He held up his hands defensively, but his grin remained firmly in place. "I'm just saying, two people, empty apartment, plenty of time..."

"To study Weber's theories of social organization," you cut in, though you could feel your face burning. "Which is exactly what we did."

"Boring," he sang under his breath, then dodged the dish towel you threw at him. "Come on, you can't tell me you weren't even a little tempted to, I don't know, actually talk to him? About something other than dead sociologists?"

You busied yourself getting a glass from the cabinet, even though Jace still hadn't asked for water. "Why would I? He barely tolerates me as it is."

"What?" Jace's playful demeanor shifted into genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on," you sighed, setting the glass down maybe a bit too forcefully. "This is literally the most he's ever spoken to me, and it's only because Sara forced him into this study group thing. He probably thinks I'm an idiot with my rainbow notes and constant questions."

Jace stared at you for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you're actually serious."

"Keep your voice down!" you hissed, glancing toward the living room where you could still hear Cregan on the phone with the takeout place.

"Sorry, sorry," Jace wheezed, not looking sorry at all. "It's just... you think he finds you uninteresting? You?"

"Have you not noticed how he barely speaks to me? How he's always perfectly polite but never actually..." you waved your hands vaguely, "engages? Meanwhile, he talks to you and Sara like it's the easiest thing in the world."

"Because we've known him forever," Jace said, like it was obvious. "Trust me, he was way worse with us at first. It took me months to get more than three words out of him when we first met."

"That's different," you insisted, though something uncertain flickered in your chest. "You're his best friend, and Sara's his sister."

"And you're..." Jace trailed off, that irritating knowing look back on his face.

"His unwilling study partner," you finished. "Who he's stuck with because you and Sara keep abandoning us."

"Speaking of which," he grinned, "notice how he hasn't complained about that? Not even once?"

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Come to think of it, Cregan hadn't seemed particularly bothered by Sara and Jace's constant absences. If anything, he'd been... well, you weren't sure what he'd been, but 'annoyed' definitely wasn't it.

"That doesn't mean anything," you said finally, but your voice lacked conviction.

"Sure it doesn't." Jace pushed off from the counter, that insufferable grin still in place. "Just like it doesn't mean anything that he keeps looking over here right now, probably wondering what we're talking about."

"He is not–" you started to say, but when you glanced toward the living room, you caught Cregan quickly looking away, his phone call apparently finished. Something fluttered in your stomach.

"Told you," Jace sang quietly. Then his voice dropped lower, more serious. "Look, I know Cregan. He's... he's testing the waters. Always has been, with you."

You frowned, fidgeting with the empty glass. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what's funny?" Jace leaned in conspiratorially, a small smile playing at his lips. "The first time you came over to hang out with me and Sara, like what, two years go? He came home, saw you sitting on the couch, and later told Sara you were really pretty." He paused, watching your reaction. "Never mentioned it again, of course. Classic Cregan. But I bet he still thinks so."

Your face felt like it was on fire. "You're making that up."

"Am I?" Jace raised an eyebrow. "Sara was so excited about it, she called me immediately. But then he just... clammed up. Wouldn't talk about you at all. Which, by the way, is exactly what he does when he's trying really hard not to show interest in something."

"That's..." you struggled to find words, your mind stuck on the idea that Cregan had ever thought about you that way. "That was years ago. He's barely spoken to me since then."

"Yeah, because he's an idiot who overthinks everything," Jace rolled his eyes. "Trust me, if he actually found you uninteresting, he definitely wouldn't have cleaned the entire apartment just because you were coming over to study."

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again as you remembered how suspiciously tidy the living room had been. "He said he just tidied up a bit."

"A bit?" Jace snorted. "He stress-cleaned for like two hours this morning. I found him organizing the spice rack alphabetically. We don't even cook!"

From the living room, you heard Cregan's voice: "Food's on the way. Everything okay in there?"

"Fine!" you called back, your voice higher than usual. "Just... getting Jace his water."

"Right," Jace muttered, smirking. "Just... think about it, okay? And maybe cut him some slack."

You grabbed the glass you'd taken out, filled it quickly, trying to process everything Jace had just told you. When you handed it to him back in the living room, he just smirked and set it aside without taking a single sip.

As you settled back onto the couch, you couldn't help but glance at Cregan. He was looking down at his phone, but there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there before. You wondered if he'd heard any of your conversation, if he had any idea that Jace had just upended everything you thought you knew about how he saw you.

When he looked up and caught your eye, offering that small, almost shy smile, you felt your heart skip. Maybe Jace was right. Maybe you'd been reading this all wrong.

Halfway through your dinner, the room had settled into a comfortable sprawl. Shoes had been kicked off long ago, the air warm with the scent of food and the quiet hum of the television as Jace scrolled through endless movie options. Sara was curled up on the oversized bean bag Jace had dragged out from his (not so dirty) room, cross-legged and picking at her food between halfhearted comments about his choices. 

You had swapped your stiff button-up for one of Jace’s shirts, soft and worn, draping over your frame as you lounged against the armrest of the couch, knees pulled up. Jace sat on the floor beside you, absentmindedly leaning into the space near your legs as he continued his aimless search.

"How about The Matrix?" Jace called out from his spot on the floor, scrolling endlessly through Netflix as he had been for the past ten minutes.

"No," Cregan replied without looking up from his food.

"Lord of the Rings?"

"We're not starting a three-hour movie at this time of night."

"Fine. Ocean's Eleven?"

"No."

You pushed your noodles around with your chopsticks, barely registering their back-and-forth. Your mind was stuck in a loop, replaying your conversation with Jace in the kitchen. The food in your stomach felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was from eating too quickly or from the weight of this new information that you had no idea what to do with.

He'd found you pretty. Two years ago, maybe, but still. Cregan Stark, who always seemed so perfectly put together, so distant, had actually noticed you before you'd even properly met. And what were you supposed to do with that knowledge? It's not like you could just bring it up casually over takeout. 'Hey, heard you thought I was pretty ages ago, still think so?'

You snuck a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his takeout container balanced carefully on his knee as he systematically shot down every one of Jace's movie suggestions. The sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows, and you noticed how his forearms tensed slightly every time he reached for his drink. It really didn't help that he was unfairly attractive, all quiet intensity and careful movements.

"Indiana Jones?" Jace's voice cut through your thoughts.

"No."

"You're impossible," Jace groaned.

Sara caught your eye from across the room and smiled knowingly, making you wonder just how obvious your staring had been. What were they playing at, really? 

You'd lost count of how many times you'd asked Sara if her brother actually liked you – as a person, as a friend, as anything. "Of course he likes you!" she'd always insist. "He's just quiet at first!" But you'd never quite believed her, not when he seemed so much more animated with everyone else.

But now... now Jace had thrown everything into question. If what he said was true, if Cregan really had been interested enough to comment on you that first time... The thought made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the food.

"Inception?" Jace tried again.

"Jace."

"What? It's perfect! It's about complex theories and stuff. Very educational."

You caught yourself smiling at their bickering, only to look up and find Cregan watching you with that same unreadable expression. He quickly looked back to his food. 

You felt heat creeping up your neck. What did they expect you to do? Make the first move? You barely knew him, really knew him, beyond his perfect notes and quiet presence. 

"Fast and Furious?" Jace's voice broke through your thoughts again.

"I'm going to throw something at you," Cregan warned, but there was no real heat in his voice.

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on your food instead of the way Cregan's shoulder brushed against your leg when he reached for the soy sauce. Friends, you told yourself firmly. If anything was going to change, it would have to start there. But as you watched him hide another smile behind his hand at Jace's increasingly ridiculous movie suggestions, you couldn't help but wonder if that would be enough.

What had Jace expected you to do with that information? He found you pretty. The words echoed in your mind, each repetition adding weight. What were you supposed to do with that? Did Jace and Sara want you to do something with it? Ask Cregan out? Were they trying to set you up? Or was the plan simply to get you to talk to him more, be friends, maybe?

It made sense, right? Friends first. You weren’t exactly convinced when Sara told you time and again that Cregan was just quiet at first. But now, after talking to Jace, the whole thing felt confusing. Were you reading into things? Maybe it was easier to believe Cregan just didn’t like you at all during these past two years, rather than accept that he hadn’t been comfortable enough to show it.

He was so attractive. Very attractive. There was no denying it. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. His quiet confidence, the way he carried himself… It made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn't quite explain.

You saw him shift on the couch, making himself more comfortable. He set down his now-empty takeout container and leaned back, looking like he had no interest in eating anymore. 

Still, he kept rejecting every single one of Jace’s movie suggestions, each one more absurd than the last. Sara, sensing the impasse, jumped in with her usual exasperated tone, urging them to just pick something already.

You caught Cregan’s profile as he reclined, one hand casually brushing his hair back, and the heat to your face increased. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, hoping they’d hide the way your cheeks had flushed. Your gaze flickered between the two of them, trying not to be too obvious as you studied him. 

He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it.

***

The next few days passed in a blur of highlighted notes and carefully maintained distance. Where there had been moments of warmth during that first evening in Cregan's apartment, now there was only polite efficiency. He'd explain concepts clearly when asked, his voice steady and professional, but gone were the small smiles, the quiet jokes, the moments where he seemed to let his guard down.

You tried to match his businesslike approach, taking careful notes and keeping your questions relevant and concise. But the silence between explanations felt heavy, loaded with things unsaid. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd imagined the connection from before, if Jace had been wrong about everything.

"So," Sara announced one afternoon, dropping into her usual seat at the library with suspicious enthusiasm. "I've been thinking."

"Dangerous," you muttered, not looking up from your notes.

"About our study strategy," she continued, ignoring your comment. "I think we should try something new."

That made you look up. Cregan, who had been quietly reviewing his own notes across the table, paused too, his pen hovering over the page.

"What kind of something?" you asked warily.

"Well," Sara drew out the word, exchanging a quick glance with Jace. "I was thinking we might be more effective if we split into pairs. You know, for more focused discussion."

You felt your stomach drop. "Pairs?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, trying and failing to look casual. "Like, maybe Jace and I could work on the historical context stuff, and you two could focus on the theoretical frameworks?"

"That... doesn't make any sense," you said slowly. "You're better at theory than Jace is."

"Hey!" Jace protested, then paused. "No, wait, that's fair."

"It's not about who's better at what," Sara insisted. "It's about... different learning styles. Fresh perspectives. Right, Cregan?"

Cregan looked up from his notes, his expression carefully neutral. "If you think it would help," he said evenly, and something in your chest tightened at his apparent indifference.

"Great!" Sara beamed, already gathering her things. "Then it's settled. Jace and I will go to the coffee shop downstairs, and you two can stay here."

"Wait, now?" you asked, but they were already standing.

"No time like the present!" Jace grinned, shouldering his bag. "Have fun with..." he gestured vaguely at the textbooks, "all that."

They were gone before you could protest further, leaving you alone with Cregan and the uncomfortable silence that seemed to follow you lately. You stared at your notes, the highlighted words blurring together as you tried to think of something to say.

"We don't have to do this," Cregan said quietly, making you look up. "If you'd rather study alone–"

"No!" you said quickly, then winced at how eager it sounded. "I mean, no, it's fine. Unless you'd rather..."

"It's fine," he echoed, but you couldn't read his expression.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper. You tried to focus on your reading, but your mind kept drifting to that evening in his apartment, to Jace's words in the kitchen. Had you really misread everything so badly?

"That diagram," Cregan's voice startled you out of your thoughts. "It's wrong."

You looked down at the messy chart you'd been attempting to draw. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I'm a bit..." you trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

He hesitated, then shifted his chair closer, not quite touching but near enough that you could smell his cologne. "Here," he said softly, reaching for your pen. "May I?"

You nodded, trying to ignore how your heart sped up as his fingers brushed yours when he took the pen. He began redrawing the diagram, his lines neat and precise where yours had been chaotic.

"The relationship between these concepts," he explained, his voice low and close to your ear, "it's more circular than linear. See?"

You nodded again, though you were having trouble focusing on the diagram when he was this close, when you could see the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he looked down at the page.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, glancing at you, and for a moment, you caught something in his expression – uncertainty, maybe, or something else you couldn't quite name.

"Yeah," you managed, even as your mind raced with questions that had nothing to do with social theory. "Thanks."

He nodded, starting to pull back, but then he paused. "I'm not..." he began, then stopped, frowning slightly. "I'm not very good at this."

"The diagram looks pretty good to me," you said, trying for lightness.

"Not that," he said quietly, still frowning at the page. "This. Studying with... people."

"Oh." You weren't sure what to say to that. "You seem pretty good at it to me. Very... efficient."

He made a sound that might have been a laugh, but it held no humor. "Efficient," he repeated, like the word tasted bitter. "Right."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he was already pulling away, the careful distance settling back into place like a wall between you. You watched as he returned to his own notes, his posture rigid, and wondered if you'd ever figure out how to bridge that gap.

Or if he even wanted you to try.

The afternoon light shifted through the library windows, casting long shadows across your textbooks. You'd been staring at the same paragraph for what felt like hours, the words swimming before your eyes. Cregan hadn't spoken since his attempt at fixing your diagram, and the silence was starting to feel suffocating.

"Maybe we should take a break," you suggested finally, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet space.

Cregan looked up, seeming almost startled, as if he'd forgotten you were there. "Oh. Yes, if you want."

You stretched, trying to work out the stiffness in your shoulders. "I think my brain is officially full. If I try to memorize one more theory, it might actually explode."

Something flickered across his face – amusement, maybe? – before it disappeared behind his usual mask of neutrality.

The next week, you arrived at the library to find a coffee cup waiting at your usual spot. Steam curled from the lid, and when you picked it up, the scent of vanilla and caramel made your stomach flutter.

"Is this…” you started, looking up to find Cregan already seated, seemingly absorbed in his textbook.

"You always order the same thing," he said without looking up, but you caught the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

You took a sip – perfect. Just the right amount of sweetness, exactly how you liked it. "You noticed?"

He shrugged, but there was a faint pink tinge to his ears. "It's not complicated."

But it was, wasn't it? It was complicated in all the ways that mattered – in the way he must have arrived early to get it, in the way he'd paid attention to your order all those times at the coffee shop, in the way this small gesture made your heart skip.

It became a routine after that. Every session, a coffee would be waiting, and every time you'd try not to read too much into it. But you couldn't help noticing how he'd glance at you when you took that first sip, as if checking to make sure it was right.

The silences changed too. Where they'd once been heavy with uncertainty, they grew comfortable, like a shared secret. You found yourself testing the waters, making quiet comments just to see if you could coax out one of his rare smiles.

"Weber probably needed a coffee this strong to write all this," you muttered one afternoon, earning a soft huff of amusement from across the table.

"Two sugars might have improved his view on bureaucracy," he replied, so deadpan that it took you a moment to realize he was joking back.

Weeks passed, and you fell into an easy rhythm. You learned to read the subtle shifts in his expression – the slight furrow between his brows when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes would soften when you finally understood a difficult concept.

He started anticipating your questions, sliding his perfectly organized notes toward you before you could even ask. Sometimes his fingers would brush yours in the exchange, and you'd both pretend not to notice the lingering warmth.

"Here," he'd say quietly, already pointing to the relevant section. "This connects to what you were asking about earlier."

You found yourself watching him between assignments, studying the way he'd absently run a hand through his hair when concentrating, how he'd tap his pen against his notebook in a specific rhythm when working through a complex idea. The way his shoulders would relax, just slightly, when you settled into your seat beside him.

One afternoon, you caught him watching you back. He didn't look away immediately like he used to, instead holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Something warm unfurled in your chest at the sight.

"What?" you asked softly, not wanting to break whatever spell had fallen over the moment.

"Nothing," he said, but his voice had that gentle quality it got sometimes, the one that made you want to lean in closer. "Just... thinking."

"About Weber?" you teased, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened when his lips curved into a small smile.

"Not exactly."

He didn't elaborate, turning back to his notes, but something had shifted. The space between you felt charged, like the air before a storm. You found yourself hyperaware of every movement – the way his arm would brush yours when he reached for his coffee, how his knee would sometimes rest against yours under the table.

You started bringing him coffee too, placing it beside his notebook without comment. The first time you did, he stared at it for a long moment before looking up at you with an expression that made your breath catch.

"Black, two sugars," you said, echoing his words from weeks ago. "You always order the same thing."

His smile then was different – softer, more open than you'd ever seen. "Thank you," he said quietly, and you knew he meant for more than just the coffee.

The routine of studying together became something you looked forward to, not just for the help with coursework but for these small moments of connection. The way he'd lean in close to explain a concept, his voice low and just for you. How he'd sometimes forget himself and laugh at your terrible jokes, the sound warming you from the inside out.

And if you spent more time watching the way his hands moved across the page than actually reading, well... that was just part of the learning process, right?

The evening air had turned cool by the time you both packed up your things. The library had emptied out, leaving just the quiet murmur of the city outside to fill the space. You rubbed your eyes, stifling a yawn as you pushed your textbooks into your bag. The long study session had worn you out more than you'd expected, but you'd also made real progress. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so focused.

Cregan had gathered his things too, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at you with that quiet intensity you had grown used to over the past weeks. Without a word, he slid his jacket from the back of his chair and held it out toward you.

"You look cold," he muttered, his voice low and a little rough, like he wasn't used to saying things like that. "Just for a bit. You can give it back tomorrow."

You glanced up at him, momentarily taken aback by the offer. But the warmth of the jacket, its familiar scent of pine and something crisp, was inviting. You hadn't realized how much the chill had crept into the air until now.

"Thanks," you said quietly, slipping your arms into the sleeves. The soft fabric immediately enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but notice how it smelled like him – comforting and calming, but also... a little more than that. 

The walk back to your place was peaceful. The streets were mostly empty, the glow from the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. The night felt still, like the world had paused just for you two.

"How are you feeling about everything?" Cregan asked, his voice breaking the silence as you walked side by side. There was no urgency in his tone, just a quiet curiosity, like he genuinely wanted to know.

You considered the question for a moment, taking in the city around you. It wasn’t just the study sessions that had shifted over the past few weeks, it was the way things felt between you both. The casual touches. The quiet moments. The way he noticed things about you before you even said anything.

"It's... been good," you said finally, your voice softer than usual. "Better than I expected."

He nodded, his eyes on the ground ahead. "I’m glad."

For a while, there was only the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet night. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that his jacket felt like a shield around you, or how it made your chest feel fuller with every step.

Then, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, Cregan glanced at you again. His gaze lingered just a moment too long, before he quickly looked away, but not before you saw the faint flush creeping up his neck.

"You're not–" he started, then trailed off, shaking his head slightly like he'd lost the thread of his thought.

"Not what?" you prompted, a playful edge to your voice, hoping to keep things light.

He hesitated again, but then spoke, his voice quieter now. "Not… sick of me yet?"

You stopped in your tracks for a moment, staring up at him. But before you could respond, he let out a soft chuckle, clearly trying to brush it off. "Never mind. That sounded dumb."

"No," you said quickly, stepping a little closer to him. "No, it didn’t."

He stopped walking too, his eyes catching yours. There was a moment, just a fleeting second, where you both stood there, in the middle of the empty street, feeling the weight of something unspoken between you.

"I don't think I could get sick of you," you added softly, your words surprising both of you.

He gave you a small, surprised smile, his lips barely curling upward, but there was warmth in his expression, something that had been absent the first time you'd met him. "Good to know.”

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, tugging his jacket closer around you. The night air had grown cooler, but that wasn't the only reason you felt a slight shiver run through you.

Cregan ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. "It's just... you're different with them. With Jace and Sara." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "More yourself, I guess. More... open."

"Oh." You let out a soft laugh, though it came out a bit shakier than intended. "That's because they're easy to talk to. You're..." You trailed off, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

"I'm what?" His voice was quiet, curious.

You took a deep breath, watching your shoes scuff against the pavement. "Intimidating," you admitted finally. "You're so... I mean, you understand everything instantly in class, and your notes are always perfect, and sometimes I feel like I'm just..." You gestured vaguely with one hand. "Fumbling around in the dark while you've got it all figured out."

He was quiet for so long that you had to look up at him. When you did, you found him staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite read – something between surprise and... was that amusement?

"You think I'm intimidating?" He let out a low laugh, the sound warming the cool night air. "That's... that's actually kind of funny."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because I've spent the last few weeks trying to figure out how to talk to you without sounding like an idiot." He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile playing at his lips. "You're always so quick with words, always know exactly what to say to make everyone laugh. And I'm..."

"Brilliant?" you offered, then immediately felt your cheeks warm.

His eyes snapped to yours, that hint of pink returning to his ears. "I'm really not," he said softly. "I just... study a lot. It's easier than..." He gestured between you two. "This."

"This?"

"Talking. Being... normal." He let out a breath that might have been another laugh. "Ask Jace, I'm terrible at it. Why do you think he does most of the talking when we're together?"

You couldn't help but smile at that. "I always thought you just preferred talking to him."

"I prefer..." he started, then stopped himself, looking away. "It's not that. I just... don't always know what to say. Especially around..." His voice got quieter. "Around you."

The admission hung in the air between you, making your heart beat a little faster. You were suddenly very aware of how alone you were on the street, how the streetlights cast soft shadows across his face, how his jacket still wrapped around you felt like a embrace.

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the flutter in your stomach, "you seem to be doing okay right now."

He looked back at you, and this time his smile was different – slower, warmer. "Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I am."

You walked in comfortable silence for a few more steps before you couldn't help adding, "Though I still think you're brilliant. Even if you try to deny it."

He ducked his head, but not before you caught his smile widening. "And I still think you're easier to talk to than you realize."

"I don't know about that," you said, laughing softly. "The other day I tried to tell my neighbor her new haircut looked nice and somehow ended up in a twenty-minute conversation about her cat's dietary restrictions."

Cregan's quiet laugh made your chest feel warm. "How does that even happen?"

"I wish I knew. One minute I was complimenting her bangs, the next I knew everything about Mr. Whiskers' gluten sensitivity." You shook your head, remembering the increasingly awkward interaction. "I still can't look her in the eye."

His shoulder brushed against yours as he walked, and you realized you'd gradually drifted closer together. The street was wide enough for several people to walk side by side, yet here you were, barely inches apart. You thought about moving over, giving him more space, but then his pinky finger grazed your hand, and the thought evaporated.

"At least you talk to your neighbors," he said, his voice softer now. "I've lived in my apartment for eight months, and I still don't know their names. The lady next door just calls me 'dear' and leaves cookies at my doorstep sometimes."

"Free cookies sound nice," you said, very aware of how his hand kept brushing against yours with each step.

"They are. Though I'm slightly worried she thinks I'm not eating enough. The notes she leaves keep getting more concerned." His lips twitched. "Last week she wrote 'growing boys need their strength' on the container. I'm twenty-two."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. "That's adorable. She's adopted you."

"Yeah, well..." He ran his free hand through his hair, but you caught his smile. "Sara says I give off 'needs to be taken care of' energy."

"Do you?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt your cheeks warm.

He glanced at you then, and something in his expression made your breath catch. "I don't know. Do I?"

Your fingers brushed again, and this time, neither of you pulled away immediately. The contact was feather-light, barely there, but it sent tingles up your arm. You were about to respond when you realized you'd reached your building.

"This is me," you said reluctantly, stopping at the bottom of the steps. The porch light cast a warm glow around you both, and you couldn't help but notice how it caught in his eyes, making them look softer than usual.

"Right," he said, but didn't move away. His pinky was still barely touching yours, and you wondered if he could feel how your pulse had picked up. "I should..."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

The night felt suspended around you, like time had slowed down just for this moment. A car passed in the distance, its headlights briefly illuminating his face, and you caught something in his expression that made your heart skip – a warmth, a hesitation, maybe even a hint of regret that the walk was over.

***

Days melted into weeks, and slowly, piece by piece, you began collecting little truths about Cregan Stark.

You learned that he always showed up exactly seven minutes early to everything – not five, not ten, but seven. When you teased him about it, he'd muttered something about traffic patterns and optimal timing that made you hide your smile behind your coffee cup.

You discovered that when he was deep in thought, he'd tap his fingers against the table in a specific rhythm – index, middle, ring, pause, repeat. Sometimes you'd catch yourself counting the beats, wondering what was running through his mind.

The way his jaw would clench slightly when he was stressed but trying not to show it. How he'd roll his shoulders back when he was tired, a gesture so subtle you wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't spent so many hours sitting beside him. The soft exhale he'd make when he finally solved a problem that had been bothering him.

There were other things too – things that made your heart do odd little flips in your chest. Like how he'd lean in close when explaining something, his voice dropping to almost a whisper even though you were the only ones there. His fingers would brush against yours as he pointed something out, lingering just a moment too long to be accidental. In those moments, time seemed to slow down, and you'd find yourself holding your breath, wondering if he could feel the electricity crackling between you.

You learned that he had a dry sense of humor that came out in unexpected moments. That he could deliver the most ridiculous puns with a completely straight face, only the slight crinkle around his eyes giving him away. That he'd fight a smile when you caught on, but his eyes would dance with amusement.

Some days, you'd catch him watching you when he thought you weren't looking. His gaze would be soft, contemplative, making your skin tingle with awareness. But every time you'd look up, he'd quickly turn away, that familiar pink tinge creeping up his ears.

You noticed how his whole demeanor would shift when you walked in, subtle but unmistakable – his shoulders would relax, his expression would soften, and sometimes, if you were lucky, you'd catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips before he could hide it.

There were moments when he'd get so caught up in explaining something he was passionate about, his usual reserve would fall away completely. His hands would move animatedly, his eyes would light up, and you'd find yourself more fascinated by his enthusiasm than whatever he was actually talking about.

And sometimes, in quiet moments when the library was nearly empty and the evening light was turning golden, he'd look at you in a way that made your breath catch. Like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve, or maybe something he wanted to memorize. In those moments, the thought would creep in, unbidden but persistent – maybe, just maybe, he felt this too. This growing warmth, this magnetic pull, this feeling that had been building between you like a slow-burning flame.

But then he'd look away, or someone would walk by, or reality would intrude in some other way, and you'd tell yourself you were reading too much into things. That you were seeing what you wanted to see in those lingering touches and soft glances.

Still, you couldn't help but notice how he'd position himself slightly closer to you each day, how his hand would find excuses to brush against yours, how his voice would take on that gentle quality that seemed reserved just for you. And in those moments, hope would flutter in your chest, persistent and warm, refusing to be ignored.

You gathered these observations like precious stones, collecting them carefully, turning them over in your mind when you were alone. Each one was a piece of him, freely given but carefully treasured. And if sometimes you caught yourself daydreaming about what it might mean – well, that was just another secret to keep, tucked away with all the others.

"Wait, wait–" you said through barely contained laughter, "you actually convinced Jace that pigeons were government spies?"

Cregan's eyes crinkled at the corners as he tried to maintain his serious expression. "He spent three weeks avoiding eye contact with every pigeon he saw. Sara finally had to tell him the truth because he kept diving into bushes whenever they flew overhead."

You buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. The library's quiet atmosphere was long forgotten, your books pushed aside in favor of sharing stories. "That's terrible. You're terrible."

"He deserved it," Cregan said, but his voice was warm with affection. "He'd just spent a month convincing me that my phone was automatically translating everything into English and I was actually speaking fluent Portuguese without realizing it."

"How did he even–"

"Don't ask. It involved a very elaborate setup with his cousin who actually speaks Portuguese." He shook his head, but his smile was fond. "Jace can be... creative when he commits to something."

You propped your chin on your hand, studying him. These moments had become more frequent lately – times when his guard would drop completely, and you'd get to see the playful side of him that most people missed. "You three must have had an interesting childhood."

"Interesting is one word for it." His expression softened with nostalgia. "Sara used to organize these elaborate treasure hunts around the house. She'd spend hours making these ridiculous clues, and then get mad when Jace and I solved them too quickly." He paused, then added quietly, "It helped, you know. When I first moved in with Dad and Sara's mom. Made it feel less..."

"Overwhelming?" you offered gently when he trailed off.

He nodded, absently fiddling with his pen. "Yeah. They just... included me. No questions asked. Even when I was this awkward kid who barely talked and spent most of his time reading in corners."

"Some things never change," you teased, nudging his foot under the table.

His answering smile was warm enough to make your heart skip. "I talk more now."

"True. Now you use whole sentences instead of just grunting."

"I never grunted," he protested, but his eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Oh really? What about that first week when I asked to borrow your notes? Pretty sure all I got was 'hmph' and a nod."

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "That wasn't... I was just..."

"Just what?"

"Nervous," he admitted quietly, meeting your eyes. "You make me nervous sometimes."

The confession hung in the air between you, making your pulse quicken. Before you could respond, a notification chimed on your phone – Sara asking if you wanted to grab dinner later.

"Oh," you said, glancing at the time. "We've been here for four hours."

"Really?" Cregan looked genuinely surprised, like he hadn't noticed the time slipping away. "It doesn't feel that long."

"Time flies when you're sharing embarrassing stories about Jace," you said lightly, trying to ease back from the moment of vulnerability.

He laughed softly, but his eyes stayed on you, warm and intent. "Yeah," he agreed. "Must be that."

As you both started gathering your things, you couldn't help but marvel at how different these sessions felt now. The awkward silences had been replaced by comfortable conversation, shy glances had given way to shared jokes and easy laughter. Somehow, without you really noticing, Cregan Stark had become more than just your study partner or Sara's quiet brother.

He'd become your friend.

And if sometimes, in moments like earlier when he'd admitted to being nervous around you, you felt something flutter in your chest that felt bigger than friendship – well, that was probably just your imagination.

Probably.

***

When you arrived at Cregan's apartment that afternoon, your bag heavy with books, you found him already standing in the doorway with an oddly hopeful expression.

"Before you take those out," he said, nodding at your bag, "I was thinking..." He paused, running a hand through his hair in that way that always meant he was nervous about something. "Maybe we could watch a film instead? Just... take a break?"

The suggestion surprised you – Cregan suggesting something other than studying was rare enough to make you wonder if you'd heard him correctly. But there was something almost vulnerable in the way he was looking at you, like he half-expected you to say no.

"Yeah," you said, trying not to sound too eager. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

The relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. His apartment was exactly what you'd expected – minimalist but comfortable, with books arranged neatly on shelves and a few framed photographs on the walls. The familiar scent of pine and something crisp – the same scent from his jacket that night – filled the space.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the couch while he moved to the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

You settled onto the couch, tucking your legs under you. "Whatever you're having is fine."

He returned with two mugs of tea, setting them carefully on the coffee table. When he sat down beside you, he was close enough that your knees almost touched. The couch wasn't small – there was plenty of room for him to sit further away – but he didn't, and neither of you mentioned it.

"So," you said, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, "what are we watching?"

He reached for the remote, and you noticed how his other hand rested on the couch between you, his pinky just barely touching your knee. "I thought maybe..." He scrolled through options on the screen, but you caught how his eyes kept darting to you, gauging your reaction. "There's this old film I think you'd like."

You turned to face him, your shoulder pressing against the back of the couch. "Cregan Stark, are you about to make me watch an art house film?"

His lips twitched. "Maybe." Then, more quietly, "Is that okay?"

"Depends. Are you going to explain all the metaphors to me?" You were teasing, but your breath caught when he leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting yours.

"Only if you want me to," he murmured, reaching for the remote. His arm brushed against yours as he settled back, and you noticed he didn't move it away.

The film started playing, but you found yourself more aware of how close he was sitting, how your shoulders pressed together, how his fingers occasionally brushed against your knee when he gestured while explaining something about the cinematography.

Halfway through, you shifted position, and somehow ended up with your head resting against his shoulder. You felt him tense for a moment, then slowly relax, his cheek coming to rest against your hair.

"This okay?" you whispered, not wanting to break the moment.

His response was to tentatively wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer. He grunted softly, a noncommittal sound that made you smile against his shoulder.

"Oh, are we back to the grunt-only communication?" you teased quietly, feeling his chest shake with silent laughter. "And here I thought we'd made such progress."

He made another grunt, this one clearly exaggerated, and you could hear the smile in it. Your own lips curved upward – you'd learned to read his different sounds over the past weeks, could tell the difference between his annoyed grunts and his amused ones. This one was definitely amused, with maybe a touch of nervousness underneath.

"Very articulate," you whispered, shifting slightly to get more comfortable against him. "Truly, your way with words continues to astound me."

His fingers twitched against your shoulder, and when he spoke, his voice was low and a bit rough. "Didn't want to say the wrong thing."

Something warm bloomed in your chest at his admission. "Since when do you say the wrong thing?"

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb absently tracing circles on your shoulder. "Around you? More often than you'd think."

You wanted to look up at him then, but you were afraid moving might break whatever spell had fallen over you both. Instead, you stayed where you were, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek, steady but just a little faster than normal.

On screen, the film continued playing, but neither of you seemed to be paying much attention anymore.

"I find that hard to believe," you murmured, finally gathering the courage to tilt your head up to look at him. "You always seem to know exactly what to say."

When your eyes met his, your breath caught in your throat. He was already looking down at you, his expression soft and open in a way you'd never seen before. The blue light from the TV played across his features, making his eyes look darker than usual.

"That's because," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I spend about ten minutes planning every sentence before I say it to you."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at that. "Ten whole minutes? No wonder you're so quiet."

"Wouldn't want to mess it up." His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again. The arm around your shoulders tightened slightly, drawing you impossibly closer.

"And what about now?" you asked, your heart thundering in your chest. "How long did you spend planning that one?"

He swallowed hard, and you watched the movement of his throat. "I didn't," he admitted. 

You shifted slightly, turning more fully towards him. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

"Cregan," you breathed, not even sure what you were going to say next.

He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn't want to pull away – you found yourself moving closer, your eyes starting to flutter closed, his breath mixing with yours.

The space between you and Cregan grew smaller. His fingers, warm and steady, traced the curve of your cheek, while his other hand settled at the small of your back, holding you in place as if afraid you might slip away.

Your own hand had found its way to his thigh, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his sweatpants. You could feel the tension in him – the way his muscles tensed under your touch, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when your fingertips pressed just a little firmer.

His nose brushed yours, the barest whisper of contact, and your lips parted on instinct, a quiet, breathless anticipation settling between you.

You could feel his hesitation, the last remnants of restraint flickering in his gaze. One more inch and–

The front door swung open with a loud thud.

You flinched, and Cregan jerked back as if burned, his grip on your waist loosening. The spell shattered in an instant.

From the hallway, Jace’s voice rang out, casual and utterly oblivious to the moment he had just ruined.

"Honey, I'm home!” he sang, “You would not believe the day I've had – oh.”

Jace stood in the doorway, keys dangling from his hand, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, looking between you two with obvious delight. "What do we have here?"

"We're watching a film," Cregan said quickly, his voice slightly hoarse. You noticed his ears had turned that telltale pink again.

"Uh-huh," Jace nodded, not even trying to hide his smirk. "And how's the film?"

You realized with a start that neither of you had any idea what was happening on screen. You'd completely lost track of the plot about the same time Cregan's arm had wrapped around you.

"It's..." you started.

"Very artistic," Cregan finished lamely.

Jace's grin widened. "I'm sure it is." He kicked off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Don't let me interrupt your... artistic appreciation."

You caught Cregan's eye and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at his mortified expression. The moment from before was broken, but something else had taken its place – a warm, giddy feeling that made it hard to stop smiling.

"So," you whispered, once Jace was safely in the kitchen. "Ten minutes to plan your next sentence?"

Cregan groaned quietly, letting his head fall back against the couch, but you could see him fighting a smile. "Might need twenty for this one."

Jace's not-so-subtle shuffling in the kitchen made the moment feel both ridiculous and charged. Cregan's arm was still draped around you, though now it felt more awkward than intimate.

"So," you said softly, trying to break the tension, "want to pretend we were actually watching the movie?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I don't even know what we were watching."

You glanced at the screen. Some black and white scene was playing, characters moving in what seemed like slow motion. "Art house film," you whispered dramatically. "Very deep. Very meaningful."

"Very confusing," Cregan added, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

***

The café was bustling with the usual weekend crowd when you arrived, slightly out of breath from rushing. You spotted your friends immediately – Sara's laugh carrying over the general chatter, Jace gesturing animatedly about something. But as you approached, you noticed there were only four chairs at their small table, and they'd already claimed two of them.

The remaining two seats were snug together on the opposite side, and your stomach did a little flip when you saw Cregan already there, looking up at you with that quiet intensity you'd grown familiar with.

"You made it!" Sara beamed, but there was something suspiciously innocent about her expression. "We saved you a spot."

You hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the chair next to Cregan. The table was small enough that your elbows brushed as you settled in, and you caught a hint of that now-familiar pine scent. Without looking at you, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of your chair. The gesture was casual, almost absent-minded, but it made your pulse quicken.

"I already ordered your usual," he said quietly, just for you to hear.

"Thanks," you managed, trying to ignore how Sara and Jace exchanged knowing looks across the table.

Jace was mid-rant about Luke's latest culinary disaster. "I'm telling you, there are jars of fermenting liquid everywhere. Mom thinks he's going through some kind of wellness phase, but I'm pretty sure he's just trying to turn the kitchen into a science experiment."

Sara snorted into her latte. "Isn't that how all of Luke's phases start? Remember when he decided he was going to learn woodworking?"

"Three broken chairs and one very questionable coffee table later," Jace laughed.

You felt Cregan shift beside you, and his knee pressed a little more firmly against yours. You weren't sure if it was intentional or not, but you didn't move away. Instead, you found yourself leaning slightly into him, your shoulder just barely touching his.

"What about you?" Sara turned to you. "Any wild family stories?"

Before you could answer, Cregan's hand brushed against yours under the table. A light touch, almost accidental, but definitely deliberate. You saw the corner of his mouth twitch – he was listening, waiting for your response, but that small gesture said something else entirely.

"Nothing quite as exciting as kombucha brewing," you managed, hyper-aware of how close he was sitting. "Though my aunt did go through a phase of making her own cheese. Let's just say it didn't end well."

Jace burst out laughing. "Homemade cheese? That's a new one."

"Trust me," you said, "some experiments are best left to professionals."

Cregan's hand was still close to yours. His pinky finger had somehow found its way to rest against the side of your hand, a point of contact that seemed to send electricity through your entire body. You wondered if the others could see how close you were sitting, how every movement seemed charged with something unspoken.

"More coffee?" he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear.

You turned to look at him, catching his eye. There was something in his gaze – a warmth, a softness that made your breath catch. "Please," you whispered back.

Sara was still talking, Jace still gesturing, but in that moment, the rest of the café seemed to fade away. Just you, Cregan, and that small space between your hands that felt like it was holding entire universes.

His fingers brushed yours again. This time, you were certain it was definitely not an accident.

"Remember that time Professor Martinez spent fifteen minutes talking about his cat?" Jace was saying, but you were distracted by the way Cregan's fingers drummed a quiet pattern on the table, just inches from your hand.

"Mm-hmm," you responded, though you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to.

You reached for your coffee at the same time Cregan moved to adjust his sleeve, and your fingers collided. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with caffeine. When you glanced up at him, his ears had that telltale pink tinge, but he didn't move away.

The café had grown cooler as the evening approached – someone must have opened a window – and you found yourself unconsciously leaning into the warmth of his presence beside you. His jacket still hung behind you, and occasionally you'd catch its scent, mixing with the coffee aroma in a way that made you feel slightly dizzy.

"Cold?" he asked softly, noticing your slight shiver.

Before you could respond, he was already reaching back, adjusting his jacket so it covered your shoulders better. His fingers brushed against your back for just a moment, and you had to remind yourself to breathe normally.

"Thanks," you whispered, and he nodded, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

Across the table, Sara was telling a story about her dance partner's disastrous attempt at a lift, but you were lost in the way the evening light from the window played across Cregan's profile, how his lips curved slightly when something amused him, the comfortable weight of his jacket around your shoulders.

You told yourself it was nothing. That the way your heart raced when his hand accidentally brushed yours again was just caffeine, that the warmth in your chest when he leaned closer to murmur a quiet comment about Jace's dramatic retelling of events was just the coffee. That the way he seemed to angle his body toward yours, creating a bubble that felt separate from the bustling café around you, was just coincidence.

It had to be nothing.

But then why did it feel like everything?

As the afternoon wore on, the café slowly emptied, the hum of conversation fading into the clatter of dishes and the quiet shuffle of the barista wiping down the counter. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the large windows, painting long shadows across the worn wooden tables. Jace was the first to leave, pushing back his chair with a knowing smirk that made you want to kick him under the table. His gaze flickered between you and Cregan, his amusement clear as he slung his jacket over one shoulder. 

"Have fun," he said lightly, though his tone held an edge of teasing that made your face warm. 

Sara followed shortly after, grabbing her bag in a rush. She leaned in for a quick hug, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, "Text me later," in a way that sounded suspiciously like a warning. Then, with a grin thrown over her shoulder, she was gone, the bells above the door jingling in her wake. 

And then there were two.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The café felt quieter, more intimate now, the air thick with something unspoken. Cregan's fingers tapped idly against the edge of his coffee cup, his sharp eyes fixed on you in that way that made your breath hitch. You could feel the weight of the moment settling between you, the tension coiling tight like a bowstring.

You cleared your throat, forcing a casual tone. "About your jacket," you started, knowing full well you were playing a game. "I think I accidentally kept it from the other night. It's still at my apartment."

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical, and you knew he wasn’t buying your innocent act. The truth was, you had definitely not forgotten his jacket. You had draped it around your shoulders before leaving, only to end up deciding not to bring it. 

"Did you?" he asked, his voice low, amused. 

You nodded, far too innocently. "Mhmm. Want to come get it?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, his lips tilting in the faintest ghost of a smile. "Might as well."

The walk back to your apartment felt shorter than it should have, the minutes slipping away as your steps fell into an easy rhythm. That now-familiar tension hung between you, humming beneath the surface, stretching with every unspoken thought. Your hands brushed – once, then again. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. The street lights flickered overhead, casting a warm glow onto the pavement, and in the quiet, you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unreadable. Watching. Waiting.

Anticipating.

"Sorry about the elevator," you said, pressing the stairwell door open. "It's been broken for weeks. Management promises they're fixing it, but..." You gestured uselessly.

Cregan just nodded, following you into the stairwell. The space was narrow, forcing you to climb single file at first, but he quickly moved to walk beside you, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours on the tight turns.

The first flight of stairs passed in comfortable silence. By the second floor, you were both slightly out of breath.

"Remind me why we're taking the stairs?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Character building," you quipped, stealing a glance at him. "Also, excellent cardiovascular exercise."

His laugh was soft, barely more than a breath. "Is that what this is?"

You were acutely aware of how close he was. On the narrow staircase, your arms kept brushing, his hand sometimes grazing the small of your back as you navigated the turns. The proximity felt charged, electric.

"Almost there," you said, trying to sound casual. Your heart was racing, and you weren't sure if it was from the stairs or from him.

The third-floor landing approached, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Something hung in the air between you – anticipation, possibility, a breath held just a moment too long.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for him. He hesitated for the briefest moment, then followed, his footsteps slow, measured. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant sounds of the street outside.

Inside, the space felt smaller somehow, the air charged with something electric. The scent of vanilla and old books filled the room, mingling with the lingering traces of his cologne still clinging to the jacket draped over the back of your couch. A single lamp cast a golden glow across the walls, softening the edges of the moment, but not the weight of it.

You turned, glancing up at him. “Make yourself at home,” you said, your voice steady, though your pulse wasn’t.

Cregan’s gaze flickered over the room before settling on you. 

You reached into your closet and pulled out the perfectly folded jacket, holding it out to him with what you hoped was an innocent expression. "Here you go."

Cregan took it, something flickering in his eyes – a mix of surprise and... was that disappointment? He glanced toward the door, clearly preparing to leave, and you could almost see the moment he was about to say goodbye.

"Actually," you said quickly, "my TV's been acting up. Would you mind taking a look?"

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your breath catch – part amusement, part something warmer. "Really?"

"Totally broken," you insisted, trying to look serious. "Completely non-functional."

"Completely?" Now he was definitely laughing, soft and low. "And here I thought we came up here just for the jacket."

You shrugged, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Multi-purpose trip."

He followed you to the living room, still wearing that knowing smile. The TV sat quietly in the corner, looking suspiciously functional. But Cregan didn't call you out. Instead, he set the jacket down and moved toward the electronics, his fingers already reaching for the remote.

"Let me take a look," he said, his voice rich with barely contained amusement.

You bit back a smile. Busted – but not really.

Cregan crouched down in front of the TV, running his fingers along the back panel as he checked the cables. He moved with easy confidence, his broad shoulders flexing slightly under his shirt as he pulled one of the wires free. 

“One of these might’ve come loose,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. 

Before you could respond, he jerked his hand back slightly. A thin, red line beaded along his fingertip, stark against his skin. He barely reacted, just exhaling through his nose as he brought his hand up and – without hesitation – dragged his tongue over the small cut, as if it were nothing more than a papercut. 

You, however, were already pushing off of the couch. “Oh my god, Cregan–” 

He glanced up at you, brow raised. “It’s fine,” he said simply, his voice steady, like he hadn’t just sliced himself open on a rogue wire. “It’ll heal.” 

“It’s bleeding.” 

“Barely.” 

“That’s not the point,” you huffed, already moving toward the kitchen. “Stay there, I have bandages.” 

Cregan let out a quiet chuckle as you rummaged through a drawer, muttering something about stubborn men and their refusal to take basic medical care seriously. By the time you returned with a bandaid, he was still kneeling by the TV, watching you with open amusement. 

“Hold out your hand,” you demanded. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Do not test me right now, Stark.” 

His smirk deepened, but he obeyed, extending his hand toward you. His palm was warm, his fingers rough from years of use – evidence of someone who worked with his hands, who fought, who lived. You swallowed, focusing on carefully peeling the bandaid open before smoothing it over the cut. 

“There,” you said, pressing down gently. “Now you won’t die of infection.” 

Cregan flexed his fingers experimentally, shaking his head. “Didn’t realize a tiny scratch was life-threatening.” 

You shot him a look. “Mock me all you want, but you’ll thank me when your finger doesn’t fall off.” 

He laughed, low and easy, but his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long. And suddenly, the bandaid didn’t feel like the most important thing anymore.

From the bathroom, Cregan heard you call out, your voice taking on that slightly high-pitched tone he'd come to recognize as your embarrassed voice.

"Uh... so. The remote doesn't work because the battery is dead," you announced, sounding like you were hoping the floor might swallow you whole.

He emerged, drying his hands, to find you sitting on the couch looking like you'd been caught in an elaborate lie. Which, technically, you had been. The remote dangled from your hand, and you were avoiding direct eye contact.

"Shocking," he said drily, that hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Who could have seen that coming?"

"Shut up," you mumbled, but there was no real heat in it.

He stepped closer, taking the remote from your hand. "Batteries?" 

You pointed to a drawer, still not looking directly at him. "Top one."

His laugh was soft, barely more than a breath. Cregan pulled open the drawer, retrieving a pair of fresh batteries with an ease that made you suspect he was enjoying this a little too much. He popped the old ones out and slid the new ones in, his movements unhurried, deliberate. When he handed the remote back to you, his fingers brushed against yours – just for a second, just long enough to send a flicker of warmth up your arm.

“Moment of truth,” he murmured, stepping back with an amused tilt of his head.

You aimed the remote at the TV, pressing the power button. The screen blinked to life instantly, the room filling with the soft glow of the home screen. You let out a quiet sigh, shoulders dropping in defeat.

Cregan crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “So, to recap: you invited me up here for a jacket you had no intention of giving back, faked a TV malfunction, and then made me bleed – all in the span of fifteen minutes.”

You huffed, tossing the remote onto the cushion beside you. “You make it sound so calculated.”

He smirked. “Wasn’t it?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the look on his face – the teasing glint in his eyes, the slight lift of his brow – made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever excuse you were about to throw at him.

Instead, you crossed your arms and leaned back. “Fine. Maybe I just wanted you to stay a little longer.”

The smirk faded, just slightly. His gaze flickered over your face, his amusement softening into something quieter, something warmer.

“You could’ve just asked,” he said.

Your breath caught.

Then, as if sensing the weight of his own words, he straightened, rolling his shoulders like he could shake it off. 

You tried to ignore the sudden heat that rose in your cheeks, still pretending that the whole situation – your really embarrassing scheme to get him to stay – was perfectly normal.  

You shook your head, pushed the thoughts aside as you rose from the couch and walked toward him. His gaze followed you, amusement danced in his eyes as you stopped in front of him. Without thinking, your eyes flickered to his finger – still wrapped in the bright pink Hello Kitty bandaid you slapped on him earlier. The absurdity of it all hit you again, and for a moment, you felt the urge to cover your face.  

But Cregan didn't let it slide. "You know," he drawled, holding up his hand, the bandaid on full display, "I felt the care and attention here, but–” He lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitched, “Hello Kitty?"  

You rolled your eyes but approached him anyway. You focused on his finger, ignored the growing warmth that spread through you as you reached out, your fingers brushed his skin as you took his hand in yours. “They were the only ones at the store,” you muttered, glancing at him briefly, expecting him to laugh it off.  

He just stared at you, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Mm-hmm. I was sure they were,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with skepticism. “Couldn’t find any grown-up band-aids, huh?”  

You snorted and held his finger a little more gently, glanced up at him now, met his gaze with a faint, nervous smile. “They were cute. I thought you might like them.”  

He tilted his head, studied you with an intensity that made it hard to keep your thoughts from scattering. “You didn’t think I’d notice?” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper, and the playful teasing was gone, replaced with something... different.  

You felt his hip brush against yours, a subtle, accidental touch that sent a spark of awareness through you. The proximity was sudden, sharp. You leaned back against the counter, the cool surface grounded you as your pulse began to race in a way you couldn’t quite control. Your focus remained on his finger, but his proximity – the weight of his gaze on you – felt heavier than anything you’d ever known.  

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, just for a split second, before returning to your eyes, and it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of you. Your hand, still holding his, trembled slightly. You tried to tell yourself it was just the oddness of the moment, the intimacy of the small gesture, but deep down you knew there was more to it than that. His fingers, warm and strong, rested in your hand, his thumb brushed over your knuckles in that unconscious way he did, and it took everything in you not to close the space between you.  

The silence stretched between you, charged with everything unsaid. His fingers were still tangled with yours, warm and steady despite the slight tremor you felt in your own hand. When you finally looked up, the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch.

"I should probably go," he whispered, but he didn't move away. If anything, he seemed to lean closer, his free hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

"Probably," you agreed, but your other hand had somehow found its way to his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

Time seemed to slow down. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, fast and strong. His eyes dropped to your lips again, lingering this time.

"Tell me to go," he murmured, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

Instead, you lifted your chin slightly, closing the last bit of distance between you. His lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, questioning. Then your hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, and something in him seemed to break.

He pressed closer, deepening the kiss as his hand moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you against him. Your back hit the counter, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the feeling of him – the way he tasted like coffee and something sweeter, how his thumb traced circles on your hip, how he kissed you like he'd been thinking about it for weeks.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something that made your heart race even faster.

"I've wanted to do that," he said roughly, "for forever."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Is that why you were so quiet?"

He smiled against your lips. "Partly." Then he was kissing you again, slower this time, like he had all the time in the world to learn the taste of you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, unable to stop smiling. "You know Sara and Jace are going to be insufferable about this."

"Mmm," Cregan hummed against your lips. "They'll never let us hear the end of it." His fingers traced along your jaw, gentle and exploratory. "Sara's been dropping hints for weeks."

"Weeks?" You raised an eyebrow. "Try months."

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against yours. He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against yours. Then his mouth found yours again, and this time the kiss was different – long, slow, and dizzyingly passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was anything this man wasn't exceptionally good at.

When you pulled back, you toyed with the few hair strands that had fallen onto his face. He still hadn’t stepped back, still held you like he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. And maybe you weren’t either.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of it settled between you, the knowledge that this – whatever this was – had changed something, shifted it into something new, something neither of you could brush aside with an easy joke.

Cregan’s fingers brushed up your arm, slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering over your face like he was debating something.

Then, quieter this time, more serious: “Should I stay?”

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t just about tonight. You could hear it in the way he asked, in the way his fingers curled slightly at your waist.

You swallowed, your voice softer now. “Would you, if I asked?”

His grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I would.”

You exhaled, your fingers tracing absentmindedly along his collarbone. He was close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the warmth there, the hesitation.

Then you smiled, small and knowing. “Good.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. But he still stayed.

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[hellothisisangle]

Do you have any other BG3 Tavs besides Cae?

I do!

Ari was my first DnD OC when I used to play campaigns, so I thought she’d be good for a first run. Camp bicycle, nice/friendly, did what anyone wanted, started out as a rogue and became a ranger. Finished this playthrough

Then I made a clone of my TDIAHM OC Jaz, which I feel like was not a very fun run for whatever reason (probably couldn’t get into the rp) but I was doing choices I didn’t do the first time around. Solemn scar riddled guy, just determined to get healed and refuses to help anyone, fighter. Got to act 3 and quit

Charade is the most chaotic, will-do-anything-if-she-gets-something-out-of-it succubus who loves to see people tortured. First new OC for BG3. Only did some Act 1 stuff, because my partner finally got a copy around the same time and said they’d do a co-op game with me

Cae’s run was the most fun I’ve had with BG3, I’m sure a big part of that was playing with someone else, but Cae’s character really got under my skin as I’m sure most can tell :)

Thanks for giving me an excuse to do more portrait rendering! Lineart for the above if anyone would like to see it:

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 10

Added dividers because I felt like the time skip/scene change would become confusing without any indication of it.

I really need an answer on how y'all feel about Immortal x Dupli-kate cuz depending on the popular opinion stuff will change 🤐 I'm willing to split a lot of people up for the drama and/or miscommunication nonsense

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 10 >>next

Some place where the supernatural meets the normal, a little place called The Oblivion Bar, John Constantine simply sat shocked at the words he managed to hear and process through his mushed brain. Bobo closes his hung jaw, drinks his whiskey, and pats his friend’s shoulder as the man mumbles a sobering spell, cringing at the effects. “I should go. Good luck, John.” And so, the chimpanzee quickly makes his exit, leaving the Laughing Magician and Death of the Endless to their business.

“I need you to walk me through this again, luv- wasn’t quite paying attention.” Constantine shook his head as he fully turned to face the smiling entity. “You and who did what?!” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to bring attention to what they were saying. This was bad. Really bad.

“Lady Gotham and I took a liking to Batman’s youngest daughter and-“ John quickly interrupted her. “And gave her magical powers beyond my comprehension and immortality- yes, I heard that, did you?!” The man rubbed his face, the thought was making him want to get drunk until he dropped. ”Have you gone mad? Giving a mortal immortality is more of Dream’s style you should know better-“

Death only smiled at him, amusement filling her eyes as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder making him tense up. “She was lonely, she deserves every happiness those powers and eternity are bound to give her. You’ll understand once you see her.” And boy, did John laugh his gut out at that as he shook his finger. “No- no, no, no- there’s no way I insert myself into that mess- Bat’s family is already a mess and reeks of you without magic- No- There’s no way- that’s bonkers-“

Death gets up with a bright smile. “Thank you, John.” Her words make him stutter almost choking on his breath at the audacity. “Don’t thank me ya loon! I’m not going to help her, I’m not even going to see the moppet!” He can only yell and cuss as she leaves.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

 “Alright, Cecil-“ The old man immediately interrupted you, the little communication device in your ear buzzing with life as he told you to not use names. “… Dude… I’m miles in the air, first of all! Second, that was like a really common name once. it’ll take a while to find you specifically, and I doubt anyone could anyway- you seem like the type that would erase himself from the gov’s documents.”

“Anyway-“ You didn’t give him time to say anything else. “What house am I supposed to go to again? And why?”

The old man sighs at your antics, rubbing the side of his forehead as he feels the headache coming while he gives the address once more. “Your brother’s teacher, Mr. Hiles, has been the mall bomber. It took us a while, he was smart about it, kept his search into biological bomb-making off the internet but he wasn’t that thorough about his paper trail.”

“Be prepared for anything and a confrontation.” The older man cleared his throat. You always made him nervous; you were an unexpected equation in everything, something he couldn’t control without risking Earth. Donald and everyone else just took his weariness and suspicion as him being overly cautious, but Cecil could tell something was clinging to you that just gave him nightmares.

“And thank you- usually I would have sent someone from the Teen Team but…uh-“ His eyes followed the action on another screen. “They’re busy. Your brother and father are helping them.”

“You’re nervous. Yapping again. Chill, I’ll take care of it. Just because I don’t want to be your little puppet doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep people safe.” You found the man irritating, but for now, he was being sane, actually doing his job, so you couldn’t complain. “Getting closer to the target. Going dark.”  Was the only warning the man got before the com was powered off.

Finally ready to land you politely greeted the man, walking through the training both Cecil and Nolan provided at the start of your vigilantism. “I didn’t expect to get caught quite this early, and I certainly expected… more conventional authorities when the time did come.” Professor Hiles just sighs and welcomes you in by your birth name. “How did you-“

“Are you kidding me? Mark is unable to shut up about you. And you forget to wear your hood more times than you do wear it.” The man said as he took off his sweater. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the fourth missing student. I assure you, I have no intention of resisting.” Well… This was easier than expected.

As he started to confess about how he started doing this, he led you to his basement. “Mr. Hiles, while I understand the loss of a child to suicide, a divorce, and the loss of a job ruined you until you hit rock bottom, avenging your son like this-“

“I’m not avenging the death of my son. That would be far too cliché.” Your eyes landed on the teen strapped to the table once he turned on the light, breath hitching as you saw the skin of his arms merging sloppily with the metallic torso the professor modified. “It’s the destruction of my life that has me seeking revenge.”

“The domino effect of pain and sorrow that these monsters create. Children who spend too much time at the mall, attend parties, consume alcohol, and play sports when they should be studying and doing homework.”

“I understand your ire, I’m not one for parties or drunks, but not all kids who do that stuff go to extremes, that’s a flawed logic- it does not give you the right to play god and do-“ You tried to placate him, keeping your tone soft and even, to try and make him see reason. “What I did to all of them, turning them into living bombs, an instrument with which to exact my revenge… my crusade to end the pain and sorrow by these- ‘popular’ kids… I feel no guilt for.”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate end to my crusade-” Mr. Hiles ripped open the shirt he was wearing, revealing the same mechanism the unconscious teen had. “-than the death of a superhero!” You quickly acted, not letting him talk more beyond that as the timer set to 50 seconds started trickling down while you grabbed him, breaking through his ceilings and roof and flying high in the air.

“Is this really how you want to die? Suicide bomb? You still can make this right- you don’t have to die like this just tell me how to deactivate it!“ Your eyes remained on the clock. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The man just chuckled a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it. There is nothing for me anymore.” Five, four, three.

You couldn’t tell if what you felt was sorrow or shame, but you knew you were defeated. The man was going to get one final death, but it won’t be yours. As your flight came to a stop well above the clouds, you threw the man higher in front of you as the clock struck one second, and as it hit zero, the bomb detonated, the range and heat of the explosion destroying any remains while pushing you back a bit.

Your eyes remained on the cloud of smoke it created. If the cops found him before you did, the bomb would have wiped out the neighbors, too. That’s what hero life was, what it is. Sacrifices left and right that only made you feel more at odds with this job than before.

As you went back to the house, you activated the com, putting it back into your ear. Cecil immediately informs you that the police are en route as well as his clean-up team. “Get an explosive ordnance disposal technician, too. There is a teen in the basement, the bomb doesn’t seem active yet, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll send a report of what happened soon.” You stayed until Cecil’s people showed up, just to be sure the boy was still breathing and that the bomb wouldn’t activate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helping Brit and the other heroes clean up the rubble from the alien attack helped keep your mind off things. The Brit enjoyed talking about his kid and wife, yapping until he needed to take a breath and then starting again keeping a smile on your face.

You enjoyed helping clean up, especially when there were no casualties, today wasn't that type of day. But it had become the easy, relaxing part of the job, pick big rubble up, place it into the waste trucks, pick another piece up, make sure to not hit the man in the trench coat, put it in the waste- wait…

Your head snaps back to the man, squinting as your eyes meet. You each take a second to take each other in before your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello, luv. I’m-“ You couldn’t help your excitement as recognition finally settled into your brain. “I know you-“ Your words made John cringe and tense up. When others said that it never ended well for him. “You’re Johnny Con-Job, the lead singer for Mucous Membrane, dude, your band got me into the punk culture.”

That… wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of that or fight back the mental breakdown that was creeping up his spine. “You’re a bit young for that slop, no?” You just shrug. “Your songs got me to finally put myself first, to get the courage to sneak out, see other stuff beyond the walls of my first house, help others, and leave my neglectful family before they could seriously hurt me.” Her words worried him. John never took Bruce as the “lock his kids up” type, but the man was as paranoid as they came, he wouldn’t put that above him.

“It may be slop and shitty vocals, but it’s what I needed to hear.” You teased him while putting the rubble in the waste collector. He watched as you approached him with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. He could see what Death meant. “I need to talk to you. I’m not quite sure about what luv, but I think it’s about Batman-“ He didn’t get to finish, as soon as the name left his mouth, he was grabbed by the throat and lifted well above the clouds, way too close to the ozone layer. “Did he send you?” you hissed, giving his neck a warning squeeze.

Yup. He definitely saw what Death meant as your eyes glowed a Lazarus green. “Nno-“ He choked out. “Did Bruce Wayne send you?” her question was met with the same answer. Your grip softened, grabbing him by his coat instead of his neck as you brought him closer. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk in private…” He whispered as he realized the situation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This was a whole mess that John Constantine knew he should have stayed out of- he knew! From Bruce to the whole family basically ignoring the kid, not even telling her about the vigilantism, to the rogues taking her in and doing a better job of raising her to her running away and getting adopted by another hero- a hero that John knew wanted to conquer the world, the whole fucking race wanted to, the fucking demons had a problem with that and wouldn’t stop complaining to him like he can fix it- he takes a deep breath in. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He whined, rubbing his face as he sat on the edge of some skyscraper with you.

“I’m not hiding my past, I’ll happily snitch and tell a reporter that Bruce Wayne is a shit father, they all just assume I’m Nolan’s actual kid that was in the hospital for a deadly something or whatever.” You shrug. “Please don’t- not because I care about the bellend- I just don’t want to deal with… Huh. Now that I’m thinking about it, that may be great blackmail.” His words only made you snicker.

He didn’t know where to begin. Did she know about the Viltrumite? Was she in cahoots with him? Should he tell her any of that? Would she even believe his ass? Maybe he should get the JL involved...

The scruffy man shook his head. “Not why I’m here. You said your hero name is Sorceress? Great, so you know you have magic powers, that makes it easy-“ John took in your shocked expression. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, it never could be. “If this was another world, I’d call you crazy.” You told him simply. “But Midnight City is cursed, and I guess that makes sense… Is that why I can hear the shadows speak?”

John nodded before doing a double take, asking you to elaborate on the shadows speaking part.  “They just speak, whisper, giggle the whole thing. They can also emit what they feel. They’ve always been present, they’re not as strong here, but I think that’s because they’re more tied to Gotham and Midnight City… or just- where there is more darkness.”

“Well, you’re not far off there, love.” The man nodded in agreement as his eyes drifted to the dark dome around the cursed city. He knew where to start. “This is going to be a long explanation, you better strap in, hen, and let me finish before you ask questions.”

“You remember the painting and murals you made of gods and other entities, demons, angels, the whole sort, in Gotham and here? Yeah, they brought the attention to you from the entities you drew. Some of the moppets took them as a higher form of offering than others, a few of them decided to stick around you.”

“Those have also decided to- ‘bless’ you with a few gifts, I’m not sure of all of them, but I know specifically that Lady Gotham offered the shadows as a companion and protector, and I know that Death of the Endless has blessed you with… well, immortality.” There was no way of walking around that fact. “I don’t remember if any of these two also gave you your powers, I was quite sloshed, but someone did.” John looked at the kit, taking in her shocked expression before he nudged you a bit. “Come on, kid, say something. You got me all worried here.”

“It’s all just- a bit much.” You mumble. “Yeah, I get it. A lot for you to shoulder, but I’m sure you’ll power through- oh, thanks love… Wha- How-“ John’s eyes moved from the beer in his hands to the energy can you were looking at. You just shrug. "I wanted to know if I could, thought…” You narrow your eyes at the can in your hands. “I’m not sure if this is made out of thin air or just- teleported or something.”

Constantine just slowly looks back at his beer mug… She was taking this better than most. He hoped it was because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. Well, he’s had worse things in his mouth, he's sure, so with a shrug, he takes a sip, humming with delight at the taste, muttering something about this being real beer. “You’re here to help me, right? Like- with my powers… I- I think I need help with this whole worshipping gods and demons- entities- thing, too.”

He knew the easy way out would be to say no, to just leave, she had done just fine without him… But that isn’t what came out of his mouth. “Sure, poppet. Just keep on giving me this fine beer.” Given his track record with people and magic, he shouldn’t feel this accomplished at your happiness, but he was always quite selfish, so he returned your hug, even if he was a bit stiff.

“Now- usually the normal thing is to go from small stuff to big, teach the basics, but I’m not one for rules. Have you ever wanted to teleport via portals?” The big mischievous smile you gave him was all the answer he needed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You came home at the same time as Nolan and Mark, everyone’s first stop after greeting Debbie was their bedrooms to refresh themselves before going back to the dining area. “I’m going to be honest, Nolan, the longer hair and full beard fit you better than the silly mustache. Right, mom?” You couldn’t help the teasing as the whole family ate. Debbie looked at Nolan with a scrutinizing eye, before sighing and giving an amused smile. “I’ll definitely miss the beard.”

Mark snorted at the teasing as Nolan pouted, brows furrowing. “It’s not silly- it’s a rite of passage into manhood by the Viltrumite culture-“ you couldn’t help but interrupt. “It’s still a silly-looking mustache. What does the Viltrumite rite of passage for women look like?”

Nolan’s momentary displeasure at the mustache comment was overlooked as the inquiry about the Viltrumite women was brought forth. “Huh… I’m not sure, I never really paid attention to that. I think some cut their hair.” A puff of air escaped you in amusement before deciding to tease him some more. “Well, you clearly weren’t planning for a daughter that’s sure.”

Debbie just took in the chatter. She enjoyed the easy atmosphere, the laughter of her kids. “So, how was everyone’s day?” She asks once the chatter stops. “Oh, I met the Teen Team and helped them with the Flaxan attack, dad got kidnapped by them while I was trying to gather up survivors, made friends with Atom Eve, and met an alien called Allen who apparently got the wrong planet.” Mark shrugged.

“I spent the last eight months enslaved by an army from an alternative dimension, although it seems much less time has passed here. About a week ago, I led a revolt against my captors and regained control of my powers. Today, a team of scientists from the rebellion found a way to get me home.” Nolan lied as easily as he breathed.

“One of Mark’s teachers was turning his classmates into organic bombs in order to take revenge on kids he felt were like the ones who led his son to commit suicide. He turned himself into a bomb also and tried to take me out with him but clearly, it didn’t work in his favor. Helped clean up after the Flaxan mess, and met the lead singer of Mucous Membrane who apparently is a mage. He was here on behalf of Death herself to help me and tell me that my powers aren’t because I’m a meta, they’re magic. Oh, and also, I’m allegedly immortal.” You took a sip of water. “Lex also wants to know if anyone would be interested in attending one of his rich folk parties.”

At the quietness of the room, you lifted your eyes from your plate to look at everyone’s shocked glance. “What?” you ask with a mouth full of food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That night, the teens wanted to sleep with their parents, both needing reassurance. Debbie and Mark were already gone, sleeping deep and peacefully. “Dad… You awake?” your question was whispered as your head lay on Deborah's shoulder. He answered with a warm hand squeezing your shoulder and a quiet hum. “...How do you move past people you can’t save or the people we have to sacrifice?”

Nolan wasn’t sure how to answer that, he’d never felt anything for the people he couldn’t save. He knew that if he had to save earth’s people or his kids and wife… Well… Earth can be populated again. “You look at the people who you did save. We can’t always save everyone, that’s the sad reality. It’s… painful. But it’s a truth all heroes have to come to terms with. Even I can’t save everyone.” Nolan wrapped his arms around his girls and son tighter, pulling everyone closer. “If all you could save was a person, you still did everything you could. If you couldn’t save anyone, you just have to keep your head high and try again.”

You snuggled closer into your mom, feeling her arm instinctively wrap around you as you draped yours over her and Nolan’s stomach, your fingers laying on Mark’s wrist. The sad reality of being a hero...

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I'M REALLY SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEBODY- MY DOC SOMETIMES FORGETS TO SAVE AND I HAD TO READD PPL