#sit them on the fucking bench and make them experience consequences for once

[zombiejette]

Not that I’m trying to burden my own generation with more responsibility, but can we mandate the reverse age requirements for Presidency now? You now have to be under 35, of sound mind, and worked a min of 5 years in food service in order to be eligible. For the rest, pls take your pampered, self-destructive end of life crisis elsewhere, preferably out of public view. Thnx

[donnerpartyofone]

My Personal Birdemic

Yesterday was very much a part of the ongoing narrative. That might sound like a description of ANY day, but let's be real, a lot of days are just filler or digressive interludes that don't support the key themes or story arc. Unlike yesterday, when I returned to a skin clinic where I'd had many bad experiences, just because it was the closest place for me to go in an emergency and they could see me right away. A new asthma medication was both driving me insane and destroying my face, and the remediation measures I took in the skin department had nightmarish consequences, so off I went. Let me just say that you really don't want to be forced to choose between your lungs and your face and your mind. As soon as I was in front of a doctor I started sobbing violently. I just couldn't control myself anymore, which is a sensation I really hate. It probably didn't help that I was actually being listened to for once; kindness can trigger a breakdown as efficiently or moreso than adversity. The nurse seemed pretty alarmed and brought me a bottle of water, which made me want to disintegrate into my irreducible components forever, but I managed to get enough of my shit together to leave peaceably.

There were stupid hiccups at the pharmacy that kept me there way too long, and I realized that if I went home I would miss my televisit with my other doctor to explain what was going on, so I just went to the park to do it outside. There were lots of technical problems with that, and it took about half an hour to get it working. In the meantime I thought, Who the hell is making that terrible racket? There was a sparrow on the ground behind the park bench who I thought was taking a dust bath, but she was yelling her head off. I ignored her for a while, but eventually she was so persistent that I decided to inspect her. She had a snarl of hair, threads, and other fibrous materials wrapped tightly around one leg, which seemed to be the reason she was almost immobilized. I picked her up and unraveled it, but it seemed like it had been that way for a long time, and the leg was definitely not doing well. Fuck. Now I know the bird is injured and I am responsible for this information.

I remembered the water bottle the nurse gave me and poured some out for the bird, who drank. Then I emptied out my prescription bags, made a little nest to put her in, and set it on the bench next to me. I didn't realize that she was probably a fledgling because I thought she was pretty big, but then she started making some Feed Me gestures. I collected a couple of Cheerios from a baby sitting on the other end of the bench and tried to feed the bird, but I wasn't doing a good job. I put the last intact Cheerio down next to me and started calling 311, and animal control, and finally the Wild Bird Fund. While I was sitting there, a male sparrow came and started feeding her, inches from me. He gave her a big beakful of seeds and then he stuffed the Cheerio down her gullet for good measure. I was astounded. I mean birds in a city park are pretty bold since people feed them, but I just couldn't believe this scene was happening so close to me. It was heartbreaking.

Actually, I had witnessed the very last time that that sparrow would ever be fed by her parents. This thought has been haunting me since yesterday and might do forever.

Time passed and I still wasn't sure what was the best thing to do, and I started to panic. The thought of taking the bird away from her family, who were right there, was awful, but I was pretty sure her leg was too messed up to leave her there. There were lots of dogs passing through, and there are always rats. I decided we had to go to the Wild Bird Fund on 86th street, about 45 minutes away. While I was on the train I started to get replies to my tweets (ahem) @ the WBF, and texts from a volunteer who got my voicemail. Both of them seemed very concerned that I had overestimated the injury and interfered with normal fledgling behavior. I was completely terrified for the entire journey that we would get there only to find out that I had done something really bad.

When I was about 19 and home from college on break, my stepmother rescued a very young sparrow from our backyard. We took care of her for several weeks (a couple of months? idk). We did a bad job. A friend of my stepmother who supposedly rehabilitated wild birds told me to feed her all kinds of seeds and nuts, which I did, and one day I came home to find that the bird was coughing up blood. I looked up the number of an actual wildlife organization and described the situation to a volunteer who absolutely wanted to kill me. They explained that the bird was far too young for what I was feeding her and that I should switch to wet cat food, even though she probably wouldn't live. Actually, she did live, and we treated her like a pet for a while--although I had intense ERASERHEAD-like nightmares about her getting sick and turning inside out and suffering because of my poor husbandry. Looking back, I'm sure the bird didn't get enough attention, enough warmth, enough constant feeding, even though she did appear to get stronger and more confident. One day while I was out my stepmother took her to a vet, who naturally confiscated her and told my stepmother to get the fuck out, and that was it. A godsend for the bird. I've been feeling bad about it for like 20 years.

That experience is why I knew how to pick up a bird, which is not hard at all if you are gentle. The thing about a bird is that in order to maintain their equilibrium, they have to grasp whatever they're holding, unlike a cat or a dog or a baby that will just flop in your arms. Even a bird who does not want to be grabbed will perch on your fingers while it tries to assess what's happening. I remembered this recently when my husband and I were strolling to our favorite neighborhood, and we passed a construction site where a bird was desperately trying to get through the door in the wooden barriers. I picked that bird up and ushered it to a gap under one of the barriers, and it happily scooted to where it wanted to be, where we could hear other birds cheering it on. My husband and I had just started looking for a new apartment, and I said maybe this is a good omen, maybe if we got that bird back to its nest then we'll find our new nest. This is exactly what happened.

Because of the omen, and also because of the college bird rescue, I felt incapable of leaving the sparrow in the park. Her leg was dragging, the foot didn't seem to work well if at all, and I think her wounds were weeping. Still, for the entire train ride, I was deeply worried that we would get to the Wild Bird Fund only to find out I had made everything worse. I felt bad enough about just subjecting her to the subway. But, we got there, and a volunteer came out to meet us on the sidewalk. She didn't make it at all ambiguous, I was right to bring in the bird. As I filled out the intake form, the woman looked over my shoulder and said "What is that?!" (Always fun to hear when someone is looking over your shoulder) I turned around and saw two people with a starling in a neat black bird cage; it had an extremely long beak that almost reminded me of the proboscis of a moth. Then the actual vet came out and he also said "What is that?!" It seemed to be an old family pet that the people had inherited from another relative, and from the way they talked to and about it, I assume it was coming in for a checkup, not to be surrendered. I tried to look up long-beaked starlings and learned that their beaks can grow like that if they get a bad break, then the tissue can regenerate excessively. It made sense to me that if someone had rescued that starling with a broken beak a long time ago, then that's how it would look today.

Anyway. I was profoundly relieved that I didn't totally fuck up the sparrow's life for no reason, but my body was racked with tension from the last week of personal drama and housing drama and medical drama that had seemingly climaxed with the bird drama. I needed someone to stick a needle into me, in whatever spot would cause my stupid vagus nerve to release all the emotional toxins it was carrying. A friend commented that if something good happened the last time I helped a bird, maybe something good will happen this time. I like that idea, although I was also thinking about the religious idea that an opportunity to do good is a blessing in and of itself. I believe that, and I believe that it's a good idea to meditate on that, to orient your attitude on it: I got the chance to make a difference and that's pretty exciting in and of itself. But, you know. I wouldn't hate it if I found a new job pretty soon, either.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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[brockadoodles]

evermore - b. boeser

AN: Uh, UH, guess it’s been too long since I’ve hit you all with my true brand, angst about my fave blonde boy. So here you go. This is my evermore album fic. Please feel free to yell at me after. 

Word Count: 2206

Warnings: Angst. 

You sat idly in the front seat of your car, parked outside of an unfamiliar building in the most familiar city. Coming back to Vancouver had opened a wound in your chest that you had spent more time than you cared to admit to patch. Each thread you pulled through your heart, hoping to somehow tie it back together just enough to stop thinking about your own biggest regret. 

Regret was a feeling you spent your entire life trying to escape from. You often told people as you grew up that you didn’t have regrets, instead, each decision would lead you down a path. One path would be the right one, and others would be a lesson that you had to learn, no matter how painful it was. It was ignorant of you to miscalculate the meaning of the word because when you dropped Brock’s had and subsequently his heart, it took approximately an hour for the feeling to sink into your chest and build a home there. 

You sighed deeply as you worked up the energy to get out of your car. You knew that you were back in Vancouver to stay, you knew that it was long past time to return back home where you belonged. But stepping out of your car and unloading the bags into your new place cemented it as reality. It meant you had to face everything you ran away from. It meant you had to live in the same city as Brock again and the thought was like a hand on your shoulder that was holding you underneath the water, with just enough air to survive but not enough to escape. 

You left Vancouver, the place that you had spent your entire life because you thought the opportunity was better. It wasn’t until you came back to the same hometown that you left, a broken heart stitched onto the sleeve of your sweater that you realized. You were ready to tell him you were wrong, that you realized home would never be home again without him, even if his presence was still all over the city. His face quite literally littered the city and you could pick out his apartment building every time you looked at the skyline. But you never felt further from him than you did now because in that apartment was where he started a new life, where he was building a home with someone else.

You spent the next week settling in. You took your time because all of it felt overwhelming. Each day you woke up with an attempt to tell yourself that it would get better but each night as you fell asleep, your mind was invaded with dreams of him. Dreams of life that your heart was telling you that you should have had. 

The dreams were supposed to go away, they weren’t supposed to invade your soul as you watched the broken relationship fade further and further away. It had been too long to hold onto this feeling of hope that maybe, somewhere deep down he was still who you were supposed to be with. It felt like you were trapped above the trees and watching as he built an entire life without you. Brock moved on, and you were still there trying to grasp onto willow trees whose leaves slipped out of your grasp each time your fingers touched them. 

It was the dictionary definition of torture, having every dream riddled with Brock. Every time you dropped your head to a pillow and your eyes fluttered shut you saw the entire scene where it all fell apart. Only in this version, when he got down on one knee you didn’t grab his arm and stop him. You didn’t start crying because you had to say no, without the explanation that he deserved. In the dreams, your champagne problems didn’t blow up the only love you had ever known. But the dreams weren’t real, and each time you woke up with that painful reminder that the ring was now on someone else’s hand, because you had left instead of fighting the mess of your own mind for him. 

It took less than two weeks to run into him again. You had assumed it would happen at some point. For a city that had almost 2.6 million people living there, it was small when you knew your way around. Life had a way of fucking you just hard enough that it wasn’t even unexpected you would run into him in the most mundane of places, a park. You knew Brock had dogs and you knew that the very place you were walking through was in fact, a dog park. You also knew he still lived in the same apartment, the one that you once spent your days in. You had to swallow hard to stop yourself from thinking about the person that now occupied that space with him because part of you selfishly thought maybe everything you had heard from mutual friends wasn’t true, maybe he hadn’t moved on. 

Brock walked up to you slowly and sat down on the bench next to you. The mere feet of space between you felt taunting. He was right there. His hair was a bit longer than it was the last time you saw him, and the scruff on his face made him look older. He was a shadow of the Brock you knew yet he still felt as familiar as someone could. You made no move to speak, instead, you thought about how if the strangers passing by could sense that you once spent nights tangled together only to have the two feet between you feel like the distance between the sun and the stars. 

“I heard you were back,” Brock mumbled. He turned slightly to look at you, a half-smile adorning his features as you blinked back the onslaught of tears you could feel behind your eyes. 

“Yeah, two weeks ago about.” You replied. Brock just nodded in response and took a sip of the coffee he had in his hands. Likely the same order he always had, a medium drip with just a splash of cream. You hated that you remembered. Brock fumbled in his coat pocket, pulling out a small envelope and resting it in his hands. Your name was written in handwriting that you didn’t recognize. 

“I actually, uh, knew you were here.” He spoke, handing you the small envelope. You took it from his hand. When you opened it you saw an invitation. An invitation that was for his wedding. You ran your fingers over the words, the embossed lettering was beautiful. The location, the botanical garden, was the exact type of place you would expect Brock to get married. 

“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Regardless of how we ended, you were one of my best friends, and I don’t blame you for any of it.” Brock’s voice filled the silence as you struggled to find the words. 

“I’ll be there, Brock.” You whispered, a sad expression in your eye that he noticed. There was so much more you wanted to say, there was always more that you wanted to say when it came to him. Each time he came home you hoped that would be the time you’d finally admit it, you’d admit to him that you weren’t over what happened. You weren’t over him. Each time the words were almost there, bottled up in your chest just needing to travel into the air for him to hear. But you never found quite the right thing to say and consequently, you never got to know that for a time, it would have been everything that he wanted to hear. Instead, you were left to the images in your dreams, the ones where you did tell him you loved him and you were sorry, where it all worked out and he wasn’t marrying someone else. 

That wedding invitation haunted you. It sat on your desk, untouched as you carried moved through the next few months. You had started a new job that you were excited about, and each day things were getting easier. The dreams that once felt like they were never going to leave had slowly started vanishing. You were, for the first time in what felt like years, waking up feeling more at ease. It wasn’t until the night before the wedding that the dreams resurfaced, one last hazy cloud that you hoped would dissipate in the morning forevermore. 

It felt like a new beginning with him, new roots in an entirely new world that was only crafted carefully inside your dreams. A dark forest where you ran through it, hand in hand, in the rain, and he kissed you in front of the cottage covered in green ivy. The plant spiraling up the building like your heart spiraled out of control. The kind of love that you feel deep beneath your skin, a steady rhythm that followed the beat of your own heart. The kiss entirely complicated everything, and it felt fucking good to be complicated for once, to be the person who got to experience the love that people only wrote about in sonnets. But the dreamland wasn’t real, it wasn’t crafted by anything other than your own imagination. As the scene fizzled into dust in your hands, you felt your eyes well up with tears, because he wasn’t yours. He would never be yours again.  

The sharpness of her voice shattered the haze that you were looking through. Her hard words echoing in your mind with each breath as you shot up from bed with a hand to your chest.

“I think he did it.” And he did. In your dreams, he did it every time, and her voice breaking as she said it in your dreams made you sick to your stomach at the thought. Because love at the betrayal of another isn’t an honest or true love at all, and you wanted no part in it. Even if it was just your subconscious dreaming about it. 

You did your best to push your thoughts down as you got out of bed. You took your time making your coffee, stopping to take a moment to sit in front of your window. Your small orange cat, Nora, was curled up in your lap, purring steadily as you took the last few moments to relax before what was going to be an emotionally exhausting day. You took your time getting ready, locking the door to your apartment, and arriving at the botanical garden with just enough time to slip in without running into anyone you knew. 

The problem with this being Brock’s wedding was that you knew so many of the people here. His friends that you once shared together, his parents who once thought that this would be you and their son. You didn’t want any of them to realize that you were there. You were there because it meant something to Brock. It was the last thing you could give him to hopefully make up for the hurt you caused him. The same hurt that he had found a way to move on from, leaving you right where you left him, dust in your hair, and the same solemn expression on your face. 

You sat by yourself in the back of the garden, the space around you was decorated in dusty pink peonies and clouded with baby’s breath. It was beautiful, tragically beautiful watching her walk down the aisle. You had seen it so many times in your own dreams, the evermore sense of dread in your heart as this day approached gathering up into your throat, threatening to send tears down your cheeks. In another life that would be you. In a dream world, that would be you. But this wasn’t a dream, and you had to let him go. 

The closure was something you never searched for. To you, Brock was always who you thought you would have it all with. You thought it would be you standing there in front of all of your family and friends, you thought it would be you with the home and the family with him. You were so deep in the own hurt you caused when you left that you told yourself over and over again that it would still happen, he was still your forever because even if right then wasn’t the right time for you, the right time was coming. It wasn’t until you saw him smile at her as she walked down the aisle that you knew, Brock had moved on. He was happy, and that was the closure that you didn’t know you needed. 

You didn’t stay, you couldn’t. So you stood up and smoothed your pale blue dress out, slipping out the back with a soft click of your heels that wasn’t audible over the symphony echoing in between the stained glass windows. It hurt, more than anything you ever thought could hurt, but as you stepped out into the rain and flailed down a cab, you took one last look at the church and let Brock go. You never turned back. 

[geniedocroe]

GOOD BONES

(joe liebgott x reader)

guys i started writing this in october. OCTOBER. also, joe takes the cake for who i’ve written for most

wc: 1.3k

angst?

you had been here before. the feeling you felt was all too familiar. that feeling where you felt useless. hopeless even. you hated it. yet somehow this pain, this kind of grief, it felt oh so foreign all at the same time.

you knew the war came with great suffering. it had been what you signed up for after all. you had always been aware of the consequences, but you weren’t quite ready to face them.

throughout the war, you had met all sorts of different people. whether it was the american soldiers you laid down your life with or the locals of europe, you had learned so much from these people. certain things you would never forget. despite this, you had seen things, horrible things, that your brain seemed to latch onto.

you couldn’t exactly describe how it felt to see your friends lose their lives. you didn’t know how to cope with a major loss. there was a wide empty whole in your mind that enveloped other thoughts and memories. it was like a huge gap of time was stolen away from you. every day became a challenge.

as the days seemed to blend, you were less aware of everything happening around you. your mind hadn’t been clear in ages. whilst your emotional and mental state suffered behind closed doors, your physical state got the brunt of it in front of open eyes.

the soldiers around you noticed your self battle, but the person who paid attention to your every move, the person who knew every single thought running through your mind. he had seemed to know what was happening a lifetime before you even had a grasp on it.

joesph fucking liebgott.

he was the reason you decided to wake up every day. joe made your entire world turn. you knew him like the back of your hand and the feeling was mutual. joe never failed to be there when you needed someone to fall back on. he’d forever be exactly what you desired.

joe knew it had gotten bad again when you stopped laughing. in the absence of your amusement, melancholy seemed to fill its place. the silence that followed your presence was louder than any laughter that you could’ve possessed.

you were aware that joe would always be there to hold you through it all and you were grateful for that, but you never wanted to become a burden. you believed that your constant need for reassurance probably felt tiring to everyone else. you felt unwanted . . . even by joe.

after the soldier you had been walking beside physically exploded from a faulty grenade, you finally lost it. his blood ran down your face. dirt and grime covered almost every inch of your body. you had never felt so far from human. no one should’ve ever had to experience their friends blow up right in front of their eyes.

the loud explosion made it very well known that something had gone wrong. it wasn’t a mortar and there didn’t seem to be an enemy on the allied side of the river. the grenade going off almost seemed to be a foreign noise.

the men immediately jumped into action. every single one of them still on edge from the events in the bois jacques. they covered their heads and looked around with notable anxiety. then they saw you stood beside what was barely left of a corpse. you stood unharmed with a horrified expression on your face.

joe was immediately by your side. he pulled you away from the eyes of men who tried so hard to look away but just couldn’t bring themselves to it. doc roe helplessly followed after the two of you, but with a wave of joe’s hand, he had scurried away. your hand numbly gripped joe’s forearm. if you were causing him any pain then he didn’t show it.

you let him lead you inside a building. he forced you to sit down on some decaying bench before exiting the room briefly. once joe was gone and you were sure there was no one else around, you began to wail loudly.

the tears streamed down your face in full force. they left streaks in the blood and grime that caked your skin. your sobs were choked with pain. the tightness in your chest made you want to cry even more. your whole body shook with grief, fear, and panic.

joe ran back into the room with wide eyes. you placed your hands over your face to try and conceal the fact that you had been crying but your body still shook from sobbing. he dropped to his knees in front of you to pull your hands away from your face. you became limp in his arms.

his fingertips wiped away at your tears. when his hand pulled away it was covered in more grime than it had been before. he wiped it on the side of his pants and reached up to push your hair out of your face.

“why don’t you wash all this off? maybe it’ll make you feel better.” joe suggested, cupping your face with his right hand and holding your hand with his left.

you gave an incredibly shaky breath before nodding, holding back your tears. the salt of your tears mixed with the blood of your fellow soldier was painted on your face like some sort of art piece. though, you didn’t think you belonged in a museum while you looked and felt how you were exactly in that moment. you honestly looked as if you had just crawled out of a grave.

joe pulled you to your feet and once again began to guide you through the building. the other soldiers in your company watched the two of you trudge by with sorrow written in their features. you didn’t spare a glance in their direction and joe never let go of you. these people had watched you tear yourself apart from the inside out for years. perhaps you were the greatest casualty in the company. maybe you were just another victim of the war.

you had willingly stripped yourself of any dignity or courage you had when you jumped into france. all that was left in its place was simply nothing. no spark, no personality, no joy. you had felt as though you lost everything. oh, what you would’ve given to go back in time and repair all of your mistakes.

with great help you stepped into an abandoned shower with every single piece of dirty clothing clinging to your skin. the water was cold, but you had grown used to freezing half to death. the last memory of a shower was extremely far off and you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been able to run your fingers through your hair. the water ran immediately black as joe turned the faucet on. it was a disgusting sight to see and you were almost sad to see all the dirt keeping you warm wash away.

the first thing joe did was wipe his hand across your cheek, attempting to wipe away the grime. there was no soap in sight so the best form of cleansing was the water itself. your clothing was a lost cause. you feared the dirt and blood would never rinse out. perhaps everyone would be provided with new fatigues.

the pipes in this building must’ve been no good. every once in a while the water would sputter and turn black for a second before becoming clean once more. the faucet was turned all the way to hot, yet the water coming out was as cold as the snow in bastogne. maybe the pipes had froze and rusted in the building abandonment. you weren’t sure. your mind was so unclear.

you felt like an old house. abandoned and useless as time went by. the outside dirty and falling part. of course, the inside had its flaws but the home would always have good, sturdy bones. you were a lot like this building here. torn apart by the crimes of war. alone and useless just until the right time. just until the right person could come and return you to your former glory. and it was always joesph liebgott.

[feraldabi]

Press SEND For Love

ERASERMIGHT (Aizawa Shouta/Yagi Toshinori)

Summary:  Shouta’s finger hesitates over the send button; he knows once he presses SEND it’ll cause chaos, and he’s not sure if he wants to endure that.

ao3

Shouta’s finger hesitates over the send button; he knows once he presses SEND it’ll cause chaos, and he’s not sure if he wants to endure that.

Yet.

He looks at a certain ex-number one hero, sitting across from him and doing his best to write up next week’s lesson plans. There’s a crease between his brows from how focused the blond is, and he wants nothing more than to reach over and smooth it.

And, maybe pull a long, blond bang just because he could.

Okay, yeah, he’ll send it.

He takes a deep breath and hits SEND. His text stares back at him as if mocking him for wanting—

A loud screech permeates throughout the building.

Soon enough, there’s a scuffle at the entrance of the teacher’s lounge before the door is slammed open revealing two huffing pro heroes.

Enter: Present Mic and Midnight.

God, maybe he has the tiniest bit of regret. But, only a tiny bit.

The duo waves off the voiced concerns from others and zero in on him, regretfully.

Shouta gives them a look. He knows them, and he can’t have them making a scene here. Granted, he knows sending them that text would set them off into a tizzy but oh well. They’re adults and professional heroes, so they can wait until it’s just them in the safety of his room.

He doesn’t even deign them with a response. Shouta simply raises his pointer finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He can tell that the lack of response is grating at them.

But, he refuses to cooperate with their wants. They’ll give him hell for it later, anyway.

“Shouta,” Hizashi whisper-yells in his left ear.

He closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens his eyes he sees Nemuri claim his right side.

“You can’t just text that and expect us not to ask,” Nemuri adds in her own irritated yet warm tone. “Shouta!”

“I expect you to do your job,” he says, shrugging them off. “Leave me alone.”

Twin yells of, “Shouta,” echoes through the room.

“Ah, is everything alright,” a small, hesitant voice asks. (Shouta knows that voice all too well.)

“No,” Shouta says, a bit too sharp even for him, but he knows he has to put a stop to whatever this will be before it happens.

“Actually,” he hears Nemuri utter. “Your expertise would be very helpful.” She finishes that by batting her lashes at him.

Yagi, bless his soul, blushes a pretty pink that makes him wonder how far down it goes because he can see it reach the tips of his ears.

“Please, ignore them, Yagi-san,” he manages to get out once his brain unfreezes itself after the reboot it had from seeing Yagi blush. “They’re being idiots.”

“Now that’s just hurtful, Sho,” Hizashi declares as he places both hands over his heart. “This is an important question!”

“It’s fine, Aizawa-kun. If I can be of help then, please, ask away.” Yagi’s closes his eyes as he smiles this soft and open smile and ugh Shouta can’t take this.

He has a limit, okay.

And, he’s at the brink of it.

“Wah, thank you, All Might!” Both Nemuri and Hizashi say.

Hizashi rounds the desks and places an arm around Yagi’s shoulders. “Now, big guy,—“ Yagi turns to face him with a serious face “—what do you think a person should do for a first date?”

The question surprises him because he can’t fucking believe his ex-friends are really doing this. Right here, right now.

“Yes! You must have some experience, right?!” Nemuri says, leaning onto Shouta as she looks at Yagi, who’s taking on a redder hue.

“Yagi-san, this is highly inappropriate, please , ignore them,” Shouta states, “I do.” He makes sure to hold eye contact with both ex-friends hoping they’ll feel his ire.

(They do, but it’s fine they’re used to it.)

“No no no, it’s fine—“

“It’s always fine for you, though, isn’t it,” Shouta snips. Can’t he just keep his damn mouth shut for one second. He feels like the bastard he is in this very moment.

His mouth seems to glitch and no words come out. Shouta knows what he wants to say and usually he’ll damn the consequences, but he doesn’t want to fuck this up even more.

But, Yagi beats him to it.

“Apologies, Aizawa-kun, I’m used to a certain mindset that I’m doing my best to revert.” The man awkwardly rubs at his neck, and Yagi looks so sheepish that Shouta can’t help but feel even worse.

“No, I’m sorry. That was shitty of me to say when I know your trying to do better.” A memory of them sitting upon a bench on a cold night comes to Shouta’s mind, and Yagi’s, ‘I’ve decided to live’ haunts him. “Please,” he rushes out, “don’t apologize.”

He can feel his his heart racing, but that could be because he’s holding his breath and totally not because it’s Yagi.

Yagi’s face goes through a series of emotions and settles on this endearing look that has Shouta feeling woozy.

“Thank you, Aizawa-kun.”

He doesn’t deserve Yagi’s forgiveness, but he’ll take it. Shouta offers a nod back l before burying his face into his scarf.

For a moment there’s an awkward silence, and it’s Yagi who breaks it.

“To answer your question, Yamada-san, apologies, but I won’t be much help—“ Yagi pulls a bang and laughs “—I’ve never been on a date before.”

Hizashi and Nemuri do the most dramatic gasp Shouta’s ever heard in his life, but he can’t blame them because what? The number one hero, All Might, has never been on a date?! This seems…fake…

“Excuse me?” Wait, did he say that?

Fuck.

Yagi boisterously laughs causing his bangs to flutter around his face, “I’m aware that it seems far-fetched, but, yes, dating isn’t something I had time for.” He shrugs in a What-Can-You-Do way.

No time? Well, that does make sense, Shouta muses. All Might didn’t become the number one by taking time for himself; this man had dedicated both his time and his health to protecting the innocent.

He feels a sharp elbow introduce itself to his ribs.

“What would you want a first date to be then,” Nemuri asks as her fingers dug into the meat of his arm, forcing him to pay attention to whatever Yagi would say.

(As if he isn’t going to mentally write down what Yagi says.)

Hizashi laughs, “Yeah, what’s a good first date for All Might?”

Yagi contemplates the question and brings a hand to rub at his pointy chin, “I suppose a picnic would be nice.” He nods his head and then looks at all them with a small smile. “Surrounded by trees! It would be intimate yet comfortable.”

The little Shouta in his head is frothing at the mouth because come on! The date that Yagi described sounds perfect. It’s both private yet out in the world; open yet  intimate .

Shouta can feel his pulse quicken as an idea hits him. He could ask. He could ask Yagi right here, right now on a date. The timing is perfect, and the text he’s sent to the group chat is burning: How do I ask Yagi out?

This! This is how he could and his mouth opens and words flow out before his brain even catches up: “I’m free this Saturday if you want to go on a picnic date.”

The question catches them all off guard, but he can’t take them back because it’s out there now.

Yagi’s face takes on this reddish hue again, and he nervously twirls a bang around his finger. “Coincidentally, I’m free this Saturday, so I would love to go on a d-date, Aizawa-san.”

“Shouta,” he says, feeling his face warm. “Call me Shouta, please, since we’re going on a date.”

“O-Of course, Sh-Shouta! Toshininori! I mean—My first name, please, call me Toshinori.”

Now, they’re just two fools with red faces looking at each other with smiles on there faces. (Shouta wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Yet, their moment is ruined by twin screams.

“OH MY GOD!”

“SHOUTAAAAAA!”

His quirk activates and he turns it on Hizashi first and then Nemuri.

The room seems to explode in congratulations and applause and fuck, he forget where they were. Goddammit.

He huffs before looking toward a sheepish Yagi—no, Toshinori—who looks so happy that he can’t help but smile, too.

Wait, what time is it. Well fuck, sucks for them.

Shouta can feel a grin spread across his face as he looks at both Hizashi and Nemuri. “Better start running,” he says, causing his two non-ex friends to pause in their jovial celebration. “Your 20 minutes late for your classes and you know how Nezu is about punctuality.”

He can see the brain cell jumping back and forth between them and then—

Off they go. They’re running for their lives.

“Heh.”

That’ll teach them for being nosy.

“Toshinori, what food do you want to bring for the picnic?”

“Oh! We can bring egg sandwiches, fruit, and I found this new brand of teas we can try together. Also—“

Shouta let’s Toshinori’s words flow through him and settle in his heart. He’s so glad he worked up the courage to ask.

(He’s grateful for his nosy ass friends.)

“That sounds wonderful, Toshinori.”

[narcissasdaffodil]

A prompt of your choice with Elisa??👀👀

“You thought I never noticed you, but I did. I always saw you.” This is from a prompt by @screnwriter and links to Feels Like This, my Noah oneshot. This one will hopefully be continued, I’ve enjoyed writing about Lucisol.

One minute Marisol was on top of the world, the next her heart was entirely destroyed. Quinn didn’t even have the common decency to tell her to her face, she had watched, helpless, as Quinn followed after Elisa on Girls’ Day, and they kissed. Quinn had promised her this was nothing to worry about, and had let her believe there was still a chance for them as a couple.

“Marisol, can I talk to you?” Marisol looked up from her breakfast to see Elisa shifting from foot to foot. The taller girl leant on the counter and refused to look at her directly. A sinking feeling grew in Marisol’s stomach and she fiddled with a loose curl of hair. “Sure. What’s this about, then?”

Elisa sighed, looking up from the counter briefly. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with her, Elisa was being considerably shifty. “Quinn told me not to tell you, but we kissed on Girl’s Day, right? Well…”

“Well, what? What happened?” Marisol felt herself lash out at Elisa, causing the other girl to move backwards, out of range. Elisa not coming out with it immediately was causing her anxiety to grow.

“I’m so sorry, but last night on the roof terrace, I was with Quinn. We kissed, and…” Elisa kept going, but Marisol blocked it out, her ear popping. Looks like you’re doomed to be forever unhappy. What’s so wrong with you that no one will stay? Quinn has a pattern of cheating on people, yet you didn’t pay attention. She did that to Lucas during Operation Nope earlier in the summer, yet you didn’t see the signs, the neon red warning signs. Hope had warned you to not lose your head with Quinn, she didn’t trust her. But of course, you knew best.

Marisol felt tears spill down her cheeks and she covered her mouth. She pushed aside her food, taking off her glasses and put her head on the counter, not wanting people to see her like this. She couldn’t hear anything and put her hands over her ears, hoping to block out the ringing sound in her head.

She felt a hand resting on her head and fiddling with her hair. The sensation made her feel sick and she sat up, only one person would touch her hair like that and that was the one person she wanted to avoid. Quinn had run over her heart in her tall high heeled boots and smashed it to bits, now she was completely broken.

“Marisol, why are you so upset?” Quinn’s voice softened as the other girl sat next to her. Marisol edged her stool as far as possible from her, turning her head away from the other girl.

“I don’t want to see you right now. You should know why, does last night on the roof terrace ring a bell at all?” She pulled back her composure, refusing to look at Quinn. “I gave up everything for you, and you refused to acknowledge that. Did I mean anything at all to you, or was I nothing at all? Just someone else for you to walk all over and discard when you were done with me, like you did to Lucas. I trusted you, and that was a mistake, pure and simple.”

Quinn grabbed onto her hand, clutching tight to it. Marisol tried to pull away, but Quinn’s grip tightened. “I’m not going to have you run away from me. No wonder Gary gave up so quickly, to think I felt sorry for you when he lied. He made one mistake, then you crucified him for it. Poor little Marisol, every single couple falling apart for you, and how unlucky you were. Spare me the sob story, I don’t care.” Quinn’s words cut deep into her, pressing on some of her deepest insecurities. She fought to keep her composure, feeling tears spill over.

“You cheated on me. How dare you try to blame me for your own fuck up. I’m not the one that cheated. Did you even like Elisa? Or did you just use her because you couldn’t get Noah? And this situation is nothing to do with Gary. I’m over that...” She felt Quinn’s grip lessen on her hand and turned to face her, noticing how the other girl was fidgeting with her hands and looked lost for words.

“And this situation is nothing to do with Gary, or any of my failed couples. I’m over that… I really don’t understand what Lucas and Henrik saw in you, you’re an awful person.”

“Don’t...don’t say that. That’s not fair! I’m not going to say I wouldn’t use someone, as technically speaking I did that to you. You’re hardly over Lurik date day, you keep bringing it up. Lucas would never like you, so I wouldn’t try it.” Quinn’s voice turned high and whiny, faced with the consequences of her own actions.

“Of course I like Elisa, that’s a stupid question. Ever since we kissed, I’ve liked her. And I needed to escape you. You’re far too clingy and expect me to dote on you. I wish I stayed with Lucas, but nope. I had to let you reel me in, I only ever felt sorry for you. I didn’t see you as a real romantic prospect, who would?” Quinn laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. She pulled back enough composure to shatter Marisol further.

“I...I’ll say whatever I want. You can’t manipulate me in that way. No wonder you’re close to Lottie, both of you are bullies who are yet to grow up.” Marisol’s voice was weak as she stood up, backing into the stool which squeaked in protest over the flooring. She grabbed her glasses, pushing them up her nose and her breakfast and coffee mug, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. “We’re over, by the way. Don’t talk to me at all, unless necessary. You’re sleeping on the daybed permanently, until you can properly get together with Elisa. Why you couldn’t do that earlier without putting me in the middle, I don’t know.” Marisol rushed inside, hurrying upstairs. She dodged Bobby in the living room when he tried to follow her, and made her way to the roof terrace.

She set her coffee and breakfast plate on the bench and sat down, staring out over the Villa. Her bottom lip wobbled again as she felt herself break, and she took off her glasses again, preparing for the waterfall of tears. She curled up, resting her chin on her knees as she sobbed, hiding behind a curtain of hair. It was the start of a new day, but it felt like everything was turning awful again. Getting up early was a mistake, now she was stuck obsessing over her own decisions, what she could’ve done to make things better.

She heard footsteps and looked up in surprise to see Lucas, who moved aside her breakfast, sitting next to her on the bench. She watched him suspiciously, ready to bolt again. “I heard what happened with Elisa and Quinn, if you want to talk, let me know. She did it to me with Noah, and I decided to take her back, which was a bad idea. If you just want silence, that’s fine too.”

“Why...why are you here? Come to pity me? There’s no way you could’ve come for another reason. And I’m fine...Besides, what’s it to you? You didn’t care enough to give me a date when you came in, and haven’t given me the time of day since. I’d be surprised if you even knew anything about me, I fade into the background so easily. How do I know you’re not just going to report back to Quinn, anyway?”

“I haven’t talked to her once since before the last recoupling. I had no idea you two were together, it snuck up on me. It was her responsibility to have the common decency to say something.” He sighed and looked directly at Marisol, wiping her eyes with his finger. “You thought I never noticed you, but I did. I always saw you. I’m sorry for the dates, for all that’s worth. If you want me to find Hope, I’ll do that. But you shouldn’t be alone when you’re like this. I know from experience, I’ve done enough overthinking to last a lifetime because of Quinn.”

Marisol blinked. His finger on her cheek was causing her to short circuit and she blushed. He always saw you? Really? Maybe you’re not alone after all.

“You...saw me? I don’t know what to say to that. Please stay. I’m just really surprised by that. Why would you care about me? There’s so much wrong with me. I either leave, or people get scared off by me…” Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at the bench, grabbing her breakfast and taking a bite of her bagel to distract herself.

“I’m staying right here. And Hope hasn’t been scared off by you. As well as Bobby. I’m sure I can add more people to that growing list, but it’s a start.”

Marisol put the bagel back on her plate and looked up at him. She knew she probably looked an absolute state, and he didn’t have to follow her, yet he did. “Quinn couldn’t even tell me herself. She wanted Elisa to keep it a secret, and they could crack on behind my back. I’m just thankful Elisa had the sense to confess. Poor Bobby, he deserves better than her.”

“So do you. Quinn expects people to just sit by while she destroys everyone in her search for Noah, and until she gets him, everyone else will get walked all over. I learned that the first time she cheated, but went straight back afterwards. I’m not making that mistake again. Being coupled with Chelsea isn’t ideal, but…” He stopped mid sentence and studied her thoughtfully. She blushed under his gaze, cursing herself for getting this flustered. He’s just being kind, and you could do with more friends.

“You interest me, and I’d like to get to know you more. I’ll admit, I was surprised when you coupled up with Quinn. You’re much calmer, you actually give me time to think. Sometimes with Quinn, I’d have her chatting on and on without me getting a chance to get a word in edgewise. On top of that, children aren’t exactly in my plan for life. What about you?”

Marisol shook her head quickly. “Definitely not, I prefer to focus on my career. Cats on the other hand, are a different story. I take it Quinn wants the opposite? In that case, maybe I dodged a bullet.” Part of her felt relieved at the acknowledgement of that, and at the same time, something clicked within her.

“She called me clingy, which is true. Ever since she supported me unconditionally during Roccogate, I fell for her hard. Despite the fact that we were completely different people. Come to think of it, all three of my major relationships here were started by the person being kind to me. Rocco was the only one who cared about me on the day of the Lurik dates, and I mistook that kindness for love, not realising he was playing everyone. While for Graham, he seemed to focus on me and only me when we were together. He saw me as a weak link, an easy way to get into the Villa, and I was too blind to see it. Quinn on the other hand, was completely perfect. She cared about me so much that I never thought that could be a lie. But clearly I was so awful she needed to escape. And everything fell apart, once again. It’s like school again, always the outcast.” She let out a harsh laugh, the situation making her realise that she wasn’t cut out for relationships.

“Maybe I should just cut my losses and be alone forever. As people are always going to leave. I deserve it at this point. I wish people liked me more, but I can’t do anything about that. I’ll never be enough for them...” Her voice wavered and she sobbed again.

Lucas caught her chin, turning her face to face him. He focused completely on her when he spoke. “Marisol, listen to me. You shouldn’t base your own self worth around other people, and you’re not going to be alone forever. You’re not an awful person, it was Quinn who cheated in the first place.”

“The worst part of this whole mess is that Elisa reminds me so much of my ex Olivia, who cheated on me. They don’t look the same, but they have the same energy, it was pretty unnerving at first. So the fact I got cheated on again, and with someone so similar to Olivia, is just typical. Elisa even flirted with me when she first came in and I turned her down flat. She was flirting with both of us, and Quinn saw something special in her, I guess. Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear me moan so much.”

“You don’t have to apologise. It’s better to get it out.”

Marisol felt tears spill over again, and found herself moving closer to Lucas, nestling into his shoulder as she sobbed. His kindness without strings was unexpected, but it was helping. He moved her coffee cup and plate out of the way and let her move closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. The close proximity of him calmed her down, he was good at helping her talk through her feelings. The crush on him that she had before reignited, and she tried to ignore it.

Once they separated, the question on the tip of her tongue made her nervous. What if you’re just projecting onto his kindness, for the fourth time?

“W...would you be interested in a friendship couple with me? It’s okay if you’re not, anything would be better than Quinn.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

The door opened again, and Hope appeared. She rushed over, sitting on Marisol’s other side. “Are you okay? That’s probably a silly question, but you completely disappeared. I’ve been trying to find you.”

Marisol winced. “I’ve been better. But Lucas has been helping, he’s been a good friend to me.”

Hope nodded and looked between the two of them, smiling slightly. Her eyes glittered slightly, which confused Marisol. It seemed like Hope was happier about this than she had when Marisol had spilled the beans to her about her crush on Quinn, and she found herself questioning that. “Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up and ready. You can bring your breakfast with you, I’m staying with you regardless.”

Before Marisol had the time to react, Hope grabbed Marisol’s mug and breakfast plate, causing Marisol to grab her glasses and nearly rushed after her. She turned to Lucas and gave him an awkward wave. “Thank you for caring about me. See you later, then.”

He nodded in response as she rushed after Hope. Even though she felt awful, things were looking up just a little bit. She didn’t want to spend the entire day hiding in bed and letting Quinn know how much the other girl’s actions had bothered her, so the next best option was to spend time with Hope, and hopefully Lucas. She didn’t want to rush into something new quite as quickly, but part of her was hoping he had the feelings that were swirling around inside her.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: Sorry Ellie :(

Chapter Four

Ellie was tired. She’d barely slept since Joel’s attack and whenever she did, she only ever found herself back there. Pinned to the floor and forced to watch as those fuckers slowly tortured him,  as his screams echoed in her head till she woke in a cold sweat. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d heard that Joel had been sent home but she’d done everything she could to avoid crossing paths with the man. She was already carrying enough guilt without seeing the vacant look in his eyes. She knew it would just make her feel a thousand times worse. In her mind this had all happened because of her. The Fireflies had only gone after Joel because of what he had done to protect her. She had wanted to be angry for so long but now it just seemed pointless. How could she be mad at Joel for something he didn’t even remember doing?! He didn’t know her, she was now just a stranger that had been a part of the rescue that brought him back to Jackson as far as he was concerned.

Even now the girl felt numb, it was the first time in days that she actually managed to venture from her room without instantly wanting to retreat back, to once again shut out the world. But she had a job to do and she was determined to do it. If not for her own sake, then for her mother’s.

“Okay that’s done, what’s next?” Dina asked pulling her girlfriend from her thoughts. Ellie looked back in her direction, moving to the table by the front of the barn for the papers her mom had written for her. “Feed, I think...you remember who has what?”

The young brunette scoffed cockily with a smug grin. “Of course I remember!” She dismissed with a wave of a hand as she walked towards the feed room. While Ellie just rolled her eyes as she followed. “Rightttt, because I'm sure Max didn’t write it all down for you? TWICE!” She could only laugh as Dina flipped her off walking through the door.

Later on as the two finished up tending to the last of the horses, heads bowed and noses snuffling in buckets, it quickly became quiet. All except the sound of the animals slurping and chomping at their breakfast. Ellie found it strangely calming as she and Dina sat and waited for them to finish before continuing on with their jobs.

“How’s Ada?” Dina asked quietly with her head leaning on Ellie’s shoulder. “Not great, I told her to take a couple days off.” She sighed heavily. Her mother had been holding it in, pretending she was able to cope, that she was strong enough to deal with everything that was happening. In truth, Ada blamed herself just as much as her daughter did for what happened to Joel. Perhaps even more so, considering she had been right by his side at the time, supporting his every decision only to now watch him suffer the consequences of them alone. Ellie had had the idea of giving her mom some time at home away from the town gossip and the constant looks, pitiful or otherwise.

The teen knew from first hand experience what it was like to be the talk of the town and she wanted to spare her mother from as much of that as she could...even if it was just a couple of a days.

“Ohh so that’s why we’re on yard duty then?” Dina yawned. Her arms reaching out above her head as she stretched and rose to her feet to peer over Japan’s stable door. The gelding nickering affectionately when she spotted her.

“Yeah but it’s not that bad; you get to spend all day with your boy.”

“That’s true; isn’t that right baby?” She cooed patting Japan softly on his neck as the gelding whined, almost agreeing with his owner.

“I swear you love that horse more than me.”

“I do...but you come in at a close second.”

“Gee thanks.” The redhead mumbled sarcastically with folded arms.

Ellie smiled holding back a laugh when the horse rubbed his feed covered nose against Dina’s arm, her girlfriend yelping in surprise at the mess slobbered against her clothes.

“Oh you think you that’s funny do you!” She gasped. “Yeah I do, whaddya do gonna do huh?” She taunted in amusement.

“Oh I’ll show you! Come here!” Ellie laughed slowly backing away as Dina advanced on her, then suddenly pounced, smearing the muck across her girlfriend’s jacket. Ellie flailing in a feeble attempt to get away.

“Ew you’re so fucking gross!” She giggled out breathlessly, shaking her arms as she tried miserably to clean herself up.

“Eh you love me!” Dina moved to wrap her arms around Ellie’s shoulders, her eyes staring deep into hers, it felt oddly familiar to how they stood at the party that night they first kissed. It seemed so long ago now. But Ellie would always be grateful for it. The only difference was now; was that there were no more doubts. No more nerves of hesitation. Ellie didn’t even have to think about it this time as she pulled her closer with hands placed on her waist.

“Yeah. I do.” She whispered as the two leaned in, lips meeting in a kiss. Their noses brushed as they slowly pulled apart, lost in their own bubble of bliss and happiness. If Ellie couldn’t have her family right now, she was pretty damn grateful for Dina. The girl smiling sweetly in return as Ellie decided right then and there, that there was no doubt this girl was the fucking love of her life. The brunette pressed another kiss to the tip of Ellie’s nose before pulling away.

“Love you too babe, now come on. Your mom will kill us if we don’t get this done.” Ellie nodded silently before following, the two moving to start their next job of cleaning the tack.

They’d just gotten the cleaning supplies together, about to sit down at their work bench, when the sound of tapping and shuffling steps caught their attention.

“Oh hey there girls. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt but I was looking for Tommy. I’m supposed to meet him here...is he around?”

Ellie froze like a deer in headlights at the man looking down at them from the doorway of the barn.

It was Joel and it was like looking at a ghost. He stood with a cane in his right hand after growing strong enough to no longer need his crutches. But it was clear his bad leg would never fully heal and it was a fact that still made Ellie angry. He looked exhausted. His face covered in near healed cuts and fading bruises. His beard was bushy as ever but some patches were shorter, where the injuries to his face were slowly scabbing over. It was the same for the dark mop of hair on his head that he’d let grow out over the past year. Shorter in parts and left uneven, probably to give it time to grow again. Ellie wasn’t sure.

She felt numb looking at the same man she’d once considered a father, who looked at her now as though she were a stranger. Although she supposed that’s because; to Joel, she was. Dina thankfully seemed to sense her girlfriend’s unease and rose to her feet to answer for the both of them, while Ellie herself just continued to stare.

“It’s okay, Tommy left this early morning to go check on a patrol route just outside the wall. But he’s due to be back soon if you want to wait.” She offered and Ellie felt like punching her.

What was she thinking?! That five minutes standing together in the barn would be enough to bring back Joel’s memories. The teen gave her knowing look, almost apologising with her eyes. But Ellie wanted to respect her mother’s wishes and if she was being honest, she agreed with the idea to give Joel time to process everything.

“You sure? I wouldn’t wanna get under your feet.” He said with a small smile, trying to lean his weight on his good leg. His fist tightening around the cane as he balanced himself. “No, it’s no problem at all. You can come see the horses too. Might as well seeing as one of them is yours.” Dina smiled politely.

It seemed that was enough to convince the man as he hobbled over to the stable Dina was stood by. A large bay gelding thoroughbred twitched his ears and reached over the door to sniff at Joel’s jacket the closer he got.

“Hey there fella.” Joel murmured. The horse responding affectionately as he nuzzled against the hand raised to stroke his nose.

“That’s Duke. He’s your boy.” Dina said. Almost pulling Ellie to stand closer to the door by Joel by her sleeve. Her feet dragging along the floor as she froze again, her eyes never leaving Joel as he smiled at Duke.

“That right? Well probably explains why he recognises me, I wish I could say the same boy.” It was mumbled but both Dina and Ellie heard, noticing the sadness that creeped along Joel’s face the longer he looked up at the large animal. Thankfully it seemed to pass quickly when his eyes glanced back at the girls beside him.

“I think I know you two...Ella right?” He pointed to Ellie and she almost jumped from her skin when the older man addressed her. Her hands anxiously pulling at the sleeves of her jacket.

“Errm...Ellie.” She quietly corrected. “Annd this...this is Dina. My girlfriend, we were part of the group that brought you back to Jackson.” Her hands were shaking the whole time she spoke and when her words were finished, her throat was dry and she almost coughed to rid the lump that was forming. But Joel just smiled in that same old Joel way that he did. She was thankful for the fact that at least the attack hadn’t taken that from him.

“Well thank you Ellie and Dina, I’m real grateful. You two seem like good kids.” Ellie almost beamed from the feeling of getting praise from Joel again after so long. It took her back to Pittsburgh all over again, being taught how to shoot. The pride of knowing she was doing a good job, Joel had said so back at Bill’s. When he’d jumped down to join Ada by the road she’d meant what she’d said to him.

‘I won’t let you down.’

Except now she had and she felt more than guilt as she looked at Joel beside her. But he seemed so content, fussing Duke with a lazy smile as he did. It was strange to miss a man that was standing right in front of her.

“Hey uh...meant to ask before but uh...you wouldn't happen to have a horse named Callus here would ya?” Joel asked suddenly and Ellie’s heart almost stopped instantly as her eyes widened slightly. Once again Dina noticed straight away as her hand slipped into Ellie’s to try to ground her.

“No, I don’t think so. Why are you remembering something?” The young brunette asked gently.

Joel thought for a second before shaking his head.

“Nah, just the name kept coming to me. Probably nothing. Kind of a ridiculous name for a horse anyway.” He chuckled and Ellie felt her heart ache.

“Well I think I’ve kept you young ladies from your work long enough. I’d hate for y'all to get in trouble on my account. I’ll try catching Tommy by the gate on his way back.” he shuffled on his feet to turn back towards the door, his weight held firmly on his cane. “Sure no problem, it was nice talking to you.” Dina said and Joel nodded in response then waved at the girls as he disappeared back towards the town.

Ellie watched silently as he left. All the while Dina held her hand, her soft eyes looking back to the redhead when Joel was gone. Her hand slipped from Ellie’s and wrapped around her in a hug.

“Babe, you okay?” She whispered. She could see Ellie’s eyes welling, her lips trembling as she slowly shook her head.

“I just want to go home.”  

[slashnatic]

NSFW ALPHABET [Vincent Sinclair]

a/n: soo...this is the first time i actually post what i wrote + english isn't my first language (and i feel like there’s still 1000 mistakes in this although i proof-read it like 10 times) so please don't be too hard on me, but feel free to give me constructive criticism :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He definitely takes care of you after. He’ll clean you up, gets you a drink if you want...really anything. You need to go to the bathroom? Sure, he can carry you. You’d rather walk yourself? Well, you’re only allowed to go after he’s given you your goodbye-kiss-on-the-forehead. And no, this is not unnecessary because you'll be back in a few minutes, it’s a must.

Once all of that is done he likes it when you lay your head down on his chest or the other way around and you just cuddle and enjoy each other’s company in a comfortable silence.

B = Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Vincent has a very prominent v-line. He never paid attention to it until he realized how much you like it and with that it became also his favorite body part of himself.

He loves the curve of your hips and waist. (Whether you are slim or curvy, he absolutely loves it either way!) His favourite thing is when you’re lying naked on top of him, your head on his chest and one leg laying on top of his in an angled position. He won't stop caressing and squeezing your hips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He both loves and hates cuming inside of you. He loves the intimacy of it, the vulnerability you show each other, but he is also scared of the possible consequences, at least at the beginning of your relationship.

He also likes to cum on your chest and belly.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Vincent has watched you a lot. At first it was innocent glances he stole, later he would make time to watch you from afar going after your daily tasks and the more he started to obsess over you the less he cared about how wrong it was to basically stalk you. It went so far that he once stood before an barely-open door, watching your every move through the small gap while you showered.

It doesn‘t really matter how long you are together, he still does it sometimes. You’ve grown used to it and now even put on a show for him sometimes, pretending you don‘t know he’s right there.

Another secret of his is that he sculpted your orgasm-face. It‘s weird and creepy, but he doesn’t really care. (I’m referring to the faces he sculpted in the walls on the way down to the basement. You’ll find your face there too, just a bit a part from the others.)

E = Experience (how experienced they are)

Not at all. Vincent has been wearing his mask since he can remember. He didn't even consider pressing his wax mask in some girl’s face. Needless to say pressing your lips on wax isn’t really romantic and with that no teenage girl‘s dream. Aside from that he barely left the house. When he was older he had gotten too used to it. In conclusion: He never even kissed a woman and he didn't have sex either.

F = Favourite Position (their favourite position, could possibly include a visual)

I believe it is called the Sphinx Position.

https://littlepennyberry-files-wordpress-com.cdn.ampproject.org/i/s/littlepennyberry.files.wordpress.com/2018/12/IMG_3071.png?w=768&h=433

He likes how he towers over you. Not even in a dominant way, but more that his frame completely covers yours. Your body is practically buried by his, but in a good kind of way? It’s just whatever ground you‘re having sex on underneath you and him on top of you; you’re trapped in between, there‘s only him and it gives him a feeling of pride. He also loves kissing and softly biting your neck in that position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is quite serious, probably even stiff the first few times you’re having sex. He will get comfortable though and then he‘s a total romantic.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Vincent is almost never completely shaved. He doesn’t have the time for it and even if he did he doesn't think of it as necessary. Nevertheless he’s still always clean down there, just a bit sweaty sometimes from the heat of the fire in the basement.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? romantic aspect, etc.)

Uh, yes? Just yes. Yes, sex is an intimate thing to him. Yes, he is a romantic.

While he overall views sex as something very intimate, his mask also plays a big role. He’s scared shitless of taking the mask off, but he also doesn’t want to wear it while you‘re making love. Besides the fact that it‘s quite impractical, it also makes him feel worthless. He’ll overthink and then believes you’re only having sex with him and want to be close to him or even want him at all when you don‘t have to put up with his face, that you don’t actually care for him and that he isn't good enough. He knows himself well enough though, so he takes it off before he can lose himself in those thoughts (this doesn’t make taking the mask off easier though). In conclusion he rather has sex with you when he is (as a side affect, but that doesn’t really make a difference) vulnerable and therefore sex really is something intimate to him.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Well, first of all...he thinks about sex fairly often. There are also quite a few pieces of his art that have a sexual touch. (Have you seen the couple on the couch in the wax house? They’re going at it!)

He doesn‘t jerk off whenever he thinks about something sexual, but he does jerk off quite often. When he does it he‘s downright filthy. Lies in his bed or preferably sits at his work bench stroking his member at first slow and then faster and faster, throwing his head back, groaning and hissing and then finishing all over his work bench with his eyes closed, imagining it was your body.

He might as well has a few photos and videos of you. Wether he took them with or without your permission is up to your imagination.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Voyeurism. While he does enjoy watching you pleasure yourself, he prefers watching or rather observing you while he fingers you. He’ll spread your legs and position himself between them so that he lies on his elbows, fingering you with one hand and holding you in place (as much as possible from that angle) with the other, his face right in front of your heat. This also gives him the perfect opportunity to have a taste too.

He also has a praise kink. Telling him not to stop? Oof. Telling him how good he makes you feel? Bigger oof. Telling him how pretty he looks? Biggest oof.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

He preferably has sex in the basement with you. On his work bench or really wherever, just not directly where he works. You can be as loud as you want, there is a lot of space and lots of opportunities for whatever-you-wanna-try. Plus the house is quite dirty and so is his bedroom and he doesn't want to be that kind of filthy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything can be sexy to Vincent, it really just depends on his mood.

It might be simple, but seeing you naked is his biggest turn-on. I‘m talking completely bare and vulnerable. No towel because you just came out of the shower. No blanket because you’re in bed. No make-up. Nothing. Just you, you’re body being illuminated by the warm light of the candles in the basement. And don’t talk. For some reason it is incredibly sexy to him just taking you in, so pure and perfect. When he sees you like this he doesn't get horny, he just:

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything verbal which is respectless and degrading. If you’re into humiliation, that‘s cool. He can spank you, whip you, do whatever you want, but he won’t call you names. Ever. If you call him names he’ll also probably cry.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Vincent loves eating you out. Your taste, your soft moans, you telling him how good it feels... It makes him proud and when he hears those sweet sounds leaving your mouth he forgets all his insecurities for the moment.

It took him a while to discover this though, since he is so insecure. (‘You seriously want that face between your legs?’)

He hasn’t had any experience, but that doesn’t mean that he’s doing a bad job! He knows your body (or the human body in general) well enough to know what will make you feel good. On top of that he’s a quick learner. For everything else he makes up with his enthusiasm.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s rather slow, but still quite rough. He’s a big, strong guy after all.

Also: When it comes to who’s more dominant it really changes with his mood and the atmosphere. He likes hovering over you and trapping you underneath him, fucking you hard but teasingly slow. He likes to hear you whining, whimpering and telling him how good he feels inside of you. You look so beautiful when you stare up at him with big glassy eyes and rosy cheeks. Nevertheless he likes being submissive too, you straddling him, pinning his arms down and telling him what to do and what not to do. He likes being soft to you and he likes being rough to you. He likes you being soft to him and he likes you being rough to him too. He really doesn‘t have a preference.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Vincent doesn’t like quickies, they are almost a no-go. He likes to take his time, since it's something where he feels very vulnerable. Rushing through it isn’t satisfying for either of you in his opinion. He also feels like quickies lack passion and isn’t that what sex is all about?

Foreplay is also important to him. You start kissing him? He will get lost and he won't let you go. Not even for sex. Your having your romantic kiss now and you will have it a while longer. It doesn't matter how horny you are, you’ll have to be patient.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely! There’s basically nothing he wouldn't try, he just needs a bit of time “exploring“ whatever is new.

He also isn‘t actually disgusted by anything, whatever tools, body fluids or other things are involved. He might be a bit confused about some things you want to try out and isn't naturally turned on by it, but you can probably change his mind.

S = Stamina (how many rounds they can go for, how long they last…)

This totally depends on his mood, but even if it’s one round and no more he‘ll want to make sure you are satisfied. If you go for one round it‘s basically a lot of very intense foreplay, petting and all that, but less of penetration. More rounds means more penetrating sex, but will probably include some longer breaks in between.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nope. He knows they exist, but doesn’t bother to get to know more about it. He has two perfectly fine hands and now you, he‘s good.

If you want to introduce some toys to him though he’ll be interested and willing to try it out.

For some reason he really likes buttplugs, no matter if you use them or if he does.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease you, at least not intentionally. When he feels like it, he touches, strokes and gropes you, but never because he wants to tease you. It often has the same effect as if he did though.

If you tease him...oh boy. If he doesn’t realize right away that you‘re doing it intentionally he’ll probably react super affectionate, in the sweetest way possible. Once he does realize it he’s confused as to how he should react and he is?? sad?? Like...why are you messing with his emotions like that? You can explain it to him, but he’ll probably never hop on the train and tease back or whatever.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Isn‘t much of a talker during sex, but he does make some noise. He grunts and groans a lot. Whatever you do you’ll probably get a verbal reaction out of him. He surprisingly isn’t even trying to be quiet and isn’t ashamed of it either. He usually doesn’t talk and it’s as if he‘s letting it all out (Charlie Hoyt voice) f o r b a l a n c e.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon/imagine for the character of your choice)

He loved your taste on his lips, the sound of your soft moans and needy whimpers in his ears, the feeling of your soft skins underneath his fingertips, even your smell. Yes, he loved your smell. The smell of your hair, the particular smell of your body, oh and he loved how you smelled there. He often wondered if this, the way he felt about you, was love or obsession. Probably both, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind because he knew you loved him too. And in your own way you were obsessed with him too. Ever since he‘d let you in, you had given your all to show him. And it had only made the feelings stronger, for the both of you. He placed a last light kiss to your heat before hovering over you again to feel your lips on his. The kiss was lazy, almost innocent and to him it felt like he was drowning in euphoria. With your eyelids only half open and a tired, loving smile on your lips you pulled him down to you. And there you two laid, lovers worn out with no energy left from hour-long love making, you comfortable on your back and he on top of you, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, your hand on the back of his head, you placed a kiss to his forehead. It was the last thing he felt before he fell asleep, just this once the first of you two.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Let’s put it this way: It makes up for what god took away from him.

He’s above average length and very thick. Not big enough for an unrealistic way-over-the-top porno, but big enough to write a letter about it to your best friend if you know what I mean.

Y = Yearning (how high their sex drive is)

As mentioned earlier he thinks about sex a lot, so he’d always be down for it, but it isn’t a necessity. He’s horny quite often, but that doesn’t mean he needs to get off whenever he’s horny. He can ignore it or take care of it himself, no stress. Unless you want to have sex whenever he’s horny of course, then he‘d also be more than happy.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He‘s relaxed but won’t fall asleep for a while, so if you do he probably just stares at you and admires you (he even draws you sometimes, but only if it doesn’t ruin the moment).

[afterhoursfic]

Geralt gets tired of Jaskier sticking his dick where it shouldn’t and relying on Geralt to save him when the inevitable consequences of it arise so after scruffing the bard like some wayward tomcat, he axiis him into only wanting to get fucked by Geralt. It keeps him out of trouble and Geralt out of the overpriced brothels and into a willing hole that only gets off with Geralt’s cock splitting him in half

Warning: non con, mind control, dub con

Once again I got carried away but I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it :D

I’m gonna try and get another prompt out tonight but n promises

.

He supposed at this point he shouldn’t be surprised at seeing Jaskier practically running into the inn, Doublet half fastened and chemise hanging half out of his pants, skin flushed and a far too pleased grin on his face.

The bard doesn’t even have to say a word as he quickly spots where he’s sat in some dark corner and plants himself on the bench next to him and grabbing his half-empty tankard, acting as if he’d been here the whole time. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Jaskier stank of sex and sweat, hell he could still see the slick of whatever woman he took to beds cunt still on his lips before drinking from his beer, and sure enough, a bunch of young farmhands came crashing through the inn door and immediately made their way towards them.

The insults were pretty fast to fly, Jaskier brushing each one off to try and feign his innocence whilst the group of men were getting ready to haul the bard somewhere outside, likely beat him within an inch of his life and leave him in a ditch for taking their sister’s maidenhood. At least that’s what he thought the general conversation was about.

Personally, he was sick of it at this point, every city, town or hovel they went to, Jaskier always managed to get them in some sort of trouble, usually under the skirts of some daughter or wife, sometimes both, and he was sick of the way the bard practically flaunted it, getting caught, and often getting them both kicked out of their already paid for beds that night.

The worst part was the way Jaskier always found a way to involve him, most often he had to step between said pursuers from actually beating up the bard, no matter how tempting the thought, but if there was one thing he hated the most, it would be getting involved in the affairs of men, especially in the relation of relationships so quickly broken.

That was the main excuse he told himself, and his ire towards the whole ordeal definitely wasn’t because of Jaskier’s dalliances in closets, alcoves, and sometimes stables, about how easy the bard found company no matter where they went and yet he had to content himself with the hesitant touches and barely concealed disgust from overpaid whores.

Frankly, it had been far too long since he’d had even semi-decent company and his skin itched, for something, for some sort of relief and after eyeing Jaskier beside him for a moment, the bard still arguing that he was here the whole time and not in their sister’s bed, a solution to not only his problem, but the ones Jaskier caused as well suddenly struck him, and he only berated himself for a moment for taking so long before he finally intervened.

All it took was for him to stand up from the bench so he could now tower over the farmhands, a sharp edge to his eyes and a hand on the hilt of his steel sword before the men are fumbling over each other to get away from him first, all whilst Jaskier laughed beside him and whooped when the last of them finally left the tavern.

The bard’s joy was short-lived, in fact, he’d only just started telling him off for waiting so long to intervene, but he wasn’t listening, instead, he just grabbed at Jaskier’s collar and hauled him up from the bench and then to follow him out of the inn and down the street at the tavern.

The whole walk back Jaskier was shouting at the treatment and tried to pull away, but he held firm even as one hand hit him in the face (which the bard had called an accident, naturally). So when he felt the fabric tear a little under his hand instead he grabbed at Jaskier’s hair and pulled it tight so that Jaskier was forced to look up at the sky whilst he walked them to their beds, the bard now completely reliant on him if he wanted to avoid crashing into things or slipping into the mud.

There was something heady about having Jaskier so easily under his control and that feeling followed him into their rooms where he promptly shoved Jaskier forward whilst he turned to lock the doors.

He ignored Jaskier’s protests at the treatment, and later his apologies for getting caught, again, when finally he had enough and put his plan to work, his hand making the sign before he even consciously realized he was doing it until the bard went lax in front of him as he fell silent and awaited instruction.

“From now on, you can only come on my cock” Something easy but would no doubt make Jaskier’s time with others less enjoyable. Whilst he craved to bend Jaskier over the bed and to fuck him into the mattress and really test how strong the bed frame is, a bigger part of him want Jaskier to come crawling back to him, pleading and desperate to get on his cock, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t get anything now “Right now you’re gonna suck my cock and come when I do”

What followed was perhaps the best blowjob he’d ever gotten in his century of living, he didn’t know if Jaskier had any experience with men, but given how sloppy and wet it was coupled with the occasional grazing of teeth and the way Jaskier would gag when he forced himself too far down, suggested he wasn’t, but it was perfect all the same.

He came embarrassingly fast, shoving his cock to the back of Jaskier’s throat and enjoying the way the bard moaned and convulsed around it as he came, squirming as if to get away only he didn’t, and he watched his come spill out past his cock and Jaskier’s lips and down to his chin.

When he pulled away he didn’t even have to say or do anything before Jaskier was trying to lick and get every last bit of come into his mouth, an overly pleased look on his face, and sure enough, when he looked down he saw the growing wet stain at the front of Jaskier’s pants. He scooped up the last remnants of his come on Jaskier’s face with his thumb before pushing it past the bard’s lips, unable to help his moan when he felt Jaskier suck at the digit of his own will before pulling out as he felt his dick twitch again.

He quickly sent Jaskier to bed, not even allowing him the decency to clean up the mess in his pants, there was supposed to be some punishment in this after all, given the amount of time Jaskier had come to him expecting protection from whatever new stupid mistake he had made.

After that, he makes it his mission to direct them to every settlement he can to watch as Jaskier outrageously flirts with a number of women until finally he’s lead away to some corner and he makes sure to follow so he can at least keep an ear out.

He knows the bard is good In bed, had heard him through walls for years now and now’s no different, he still eagerly gets his partner off, he hadn’t stopped Jaskier from being able to get hard and as he hears the man fucking into his lover of the hour, he can’t help but think he needs to change that as he hears the girls come over and over and yet Jaskier get no relief.

Every time he could smell the sweat pouring off of Jaskier’s body as he kept fucking over and over, desperate for his relief and yet finding nothing until finally, the woman pushes him off, too overstimulated to carry on as she rights herself and leaves him there with his dick still hanging out, flushed red and dripping in pre, but no closer to release.

It’s then that he’ll listen to Jaskier try and jerk himself off, stripping his hand over his dick so fast he’s surprised his cock isn’t chaffed from how desperate and eager he is for something, but still there’s nothing.

When he hears Jaskier all but growl and huff and lament whatever curse had struck his dick he’ll go back to their table where a minute later Jaskier would again join, arousal pouring off of him mixed with frustration and pure need, the thick line of his cock very obvious in his pants as he refuses to sit still in his seat whilst they finish their drinks and finally head to bed together.

It carries on for a couple of weeks with Jaskier only getting more and more frustrated as instead of taking women to bed as a mutual pleasure, instead, he can feel it become entirely selfish, the bard looking for a way, any way to get himself off, with his partner’s pleasure not even being an afterthought to him until he’s finally stopped and sent on his way.

He can tell the bard is close to his breaking point so he ventures them further from civilization and deeper into the woodland. If Jaskier notices he doesn’t say anything but most of the night he’s aware of the sound of slick skin and huffed grunts as Jaskier jerks himself off in the bedroll next to him and still gets no closer to his relief.

He’s the one to break first, tired of hearing Jaskier seek pleasure in the same way over and over with little result and instead deciding to offer a new solution, the last couple of weeks had been just as much as a torture to him with the constant scent of arousal, need and desperation clinging to Jaskier he’d been hard-pressed not to shove him onto the nearest surface and fuck straight into him to give them both some relief.

It happens one night when once again they’re both awake later than they should be, with the slick sound of skin slapping together as he listens to Jaskier futilely try to get himself off. He’s surprised Jaskier had lasted this long and hadn’t come to him sooner desperate for some solution, even if it meant going to a sorceress or one particular sorceress at that.

But finally, tired of hearing and smelling and seeing, he’s desperate to touch so obviously turns to face Jaskier and speaks into the otherwise quiet night.

“Need a hand bard?”

Everything stops then and he watches Jaskier freeze in front of him, clearly not expecting to have been caught, until finally he just lets out a whine and despite not being able to see him in the dark, turns his head to face him anyway “It’s no use, my dick’s broken, clearly the Gods have seen to punish me-“

“You just need to be fucked”

There’s a tense moment of silence where he can’t help the smirk on his face before he hears Jaskier sputtering in between protests, clearly outraged at the idea “Geralt, my dearest friend, sex isn’t the problem it’s…getting to the end that is” All he did was snort but he felt a hand slap somewhere at his chest “I’ve been denied the sweet taste of release for weeks now, so forgive me if I’m not myself because I’m sure some old hag has it out for me and has decidedly ruined my life in the worst possible way”

“Stop being dramatic, I told you you just need a cock in your arse, or specifically my cock”

He heard Jaskier scoff and had already started to form the sign when Jaskier began to speak again “Geralt, I don’t think-“

“Well I think you’re desperate to sit on my cock in the next few seconds”

Sure enough, he’d barely drawn away the signs power when he felt Jaskier straddle him and his hands pawing at his clothed dick, already hard from having watched Jaskier try to jerk himself off for half the night, whilst his own hands came to rest on the bard’s hips, a smile already teasing his lips as he watched Jaskier roll his hips, desperate for friction as he let out small desperate moans.

“Please Geralt, please let me sit on your cock” He just gave a questioning hum and a quirk to his eyebrow as an answer and rolled his hips up to meet the bard’s, earning a groan from the other man before he continued with his pleading “I need it, need you to fuck me open so I feel it for weeks”

He lets Jaskier carry on like this for another minute or so, and without guidance watches him move down his body until his head is by his clothed dick, trying to suck at the head of his cock through the leather whilst he tried to get a hand on it to stroke him, all the while babbling at how he needed to feel his cock, to have it fuck him so well, so full and deep he practically chokes on it, and that’s all he needs to give Jaskier the go-ahead to pull him out of his pants.

Jaskier almost tears the leather trying to pull out his achingly hard cock, but at the first reveal of skin Jaskier is already licking and sucking at it as if it’s the sweetest tasting nectar and moaning at the taste, even whilst he still struggles to pull him out.

Eventually, they get there and his cock is standing proud, hard and thick and leaking precome, not even having to prompt the bard before he’s lapping at the length of it, rubbing his face across the skin so precome spills across his hair and face before Jaskier is all too eagerly shoving it as far down his throat as he can, moaning at the taste and still sucking his cock even deeper even as he begins to gag once it reaches the back of his throat.

As good as it is to have the bard’s mouth on him he’s all too desperate to feel the tight clutch of Jaskier’s ass instead and given that he’s dangerously close to coming just with a few swipes of his tongue and the feel of warm, wet heat around his dick.

He’s quick to pull Jaskier off and rolling them so that Jaskier is on his back, legs splayed open and wide as he fills the space between, thrusting his hips a little so that his cock rubs against Jaskier’s ass and gods is he tempted to just push in then, to hear the bard cry out and feel his hole squeeze around him as if coaxing him to come into the tight clutch of his hole and milk his cock dry, but that would be for another night, he wasn’t that much of a monster.

Even so, he only had the patience to slick two of his fingers with spit, quickly pushing in one and then the other whilst Jaskier writhed into him, letting out small grunts and moans at the mix of pleasure and pain until he curled his fingers to hit Jaskier’s prostate, watching as his dick twitched and his back bow under the feeling.

His cock was still wet with precome and spit so after pulling his fingers out quickly lined his cock up, ignoring whatever nonsense was falling from Jaskier’s mouth as he began to push in. He hissed purely at how tight Jaskier’s hole was and all it had taken was his cock head to push past his rim when suddenly Jaskier was shuddering under him with a cry and he watched thick ropes of come covering the bard’s chest, even reach as far as his cheek as he came at just the first hint of his cock and he had to use all his strength not to push him and feel the clench of Jaskier’s ass milk him to completion as well.

Jaskier’s orgasm seemed to stretch on over minutes, clearly, weeks being desperate and on the edge had their toll and he couldn’t help but reach a hand forward to rub the come into the other man’s skin and his chest hair, all whilst Jaskier fell lax under him, a dopey and content look on his face whilst looking at him as if he was the best thing to exist.

“Seems I should listen to you more Geralt, it appears you’ve cured me of my affliction”

“Shut up bard” He went to push in again, but he’d barely gotten another inch in when he heard Jaskier hiss and hands shoving at him in an effort to push him away but he was unmoveable and heard Jaskier laugh nervously for a moment.

“Thank you for your help Geralt but it appears I don’t need you anymore-“

“Don’t you want to make sure you’re truly cured?” he could see Jaskier think about it for a moment and he was ready to use axii again, but the bard just shrugged and instead moved his legs to wrap around his waist and his arms around his shoulders, pulling them closer.

“Wouldn’t hurt to make sure, just go slow, I’m a little ah ah”

He’d stopped listening to Jaskier and as soon as he was given the go-ahead and soon shoved the rest of his cock into Jaskier, feeling the vice-like grip of it around him and he had to stop otherwise he would finish all too soon and he wanted to make good on the bard’s words to make sure he felt the feeling of his cock in his ass for weeks.

As soon as he had himself under control he quickly began fucking into Jaskier, listening to his pained grunts and short cries as all he could focus on was the tight heat around his dick, barely noting that Jaskier was hard again even as he grunted in pain, and was almost animalistic as he drove into Jaskier’s hole, growling above the prone body under him as he got closer and closer to his release.

He’d batted away Jaskier’s hand when it reached for his now drooling cock laying against his abdomen, it wouldn’t help anyway, the bard’s release purely reliant on his cock driving into him and he only angles Jaskier’s hips slightly so he can push in that much deeper, but it’s enough to have Jaskier choking on his tongue with another orgasm, and this time he can’t stop himself from coming again after a handful more thrusts, shoving in as deep as he can and throwing his head back with a mix of a snarl and a groan as Jaskier’s hole milks him of every drop of come he has.

He doesn’t stop there, he’s still hard when he’s finished coming and is quick to start thrusting again, ignoring the weak protest under him, but he just raises his hand and performs axii, feeling the body under him loosed under the signs thrall.

“From now on you can only get hard thinking about my cock” Jaskier just moaned in response and whined when after two orgasms his dick was getting hard, it was hard to avoid thinking about his cock when it was fucking into him after all.

He manages to fuck Jaskier through another orgasm, at which he passes out, but he doesn’t stop fucking him, still eager for his own release and fuck he’s never felt anything better than the tight clutch of the other man’s ass around him and he spends most of the night fucking into him, coming over and over again until Jaskier’s belly is slightly swollen from it. Even unconscious Jaskier manages to come for a fourth time and it’s only when the sky begins to lighten that he finally pulls out and watches his come leak out of Jaskier’s puffy and red-rimmed hole, already making a mess under him as it leaks out to spill down his thighs and into the bedroll.

They don’t speak about it the next day, Jaskier is all too happy to act as if it didn’t happen and that his dick is magically cured of its curse, even as he limps beside him, letting out a hiss now and then and tries to rub at his lower back, his ass, anything to help, but given by the bard's mutterings nothing works.

He’s quietly smug when he can scent the smell of arousal from Jaskier their entire journey to the nearest town, and sure enough, when he looks he can see the bard’s dick is hard in his pants, likely thinking of the past night but he’s sure it will only be a matter of days before Jaskier comes back to him, desperate again.

Of course he’s right, it takes two days where Jaskier successfully wooed nearly every woman into taking him to their bed or cupboard but when it came down to it would hear them shout and huff at his impotence as they shoved him away and told him to leave.

He’s nursing a tankard of shit ale when he feels Jaskier sidle up next to him, can smell the shame and arousal clinging to him as the bard leans closer to whisper at him.

“Geralt, dearest friend of mine, do you think we could- the other night-“

“Spit it out Jaskier”

“Can you fuck me again? It appears my curse hasn’t lifted just yet and-” He doesn’t wait to hear whatever else Jaskier has to say, just stands up and makes a move towards their rooms, Jaskier quickly trailing after him and he can smell the other man’s lust only get stronger as they get closer to their rooms with a door finally locked behind them.

He turned around and with little preamble began shredding his layers of armor whilst Jaskier eagerly discarded his own clothing and when the bard was finally naked couldn’t help but smirk as he moved closer to him, his hands resting on the man’s ass, giving them a firm squeeze as he trailed a finger just to tease at Jaskier’s rim before he spoke.

“I did tell you only my cock can make you come” He feels Jaskier shudder under him and then a tentative hand around his dick, slowly stroking him to hardness as he pushes them both back until the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the bed and he falls back, him quickly following after.

“Maybe we should go see some-“

His hand is already outstretched and soon Jaskier’s eyes are glossy under the sign’s control “You’re desperate for my cock, begging for it all the time until I finally fill you”

The effect is instantaneous, pleas start falling from the bard's lips as Jaskier tries to move his hips down and angle them so he can wrap a hand around his dick and guide it to his already slick, barely listening when he hears Jaskier tell him how he opened himself up earlier desperate for something to fill him until he realized only Geralt’s cock could do that for him.

He can’t help but groan and shove forward with a deep thrust, instantly setting a harsh pace that has the headboard to their bed crashing against the wall and Jaskier wailing on his cock, no doubt letting everyone know downstairs just how good and thoroughly he was being fucked, and he couldn’t help but thrust faster, letting out small grunts as he tried to fuck into him faster and faster.

All he can hear is the sound of their skin slapping together and Jaskier’s shouts for more, to be filled with his come and he’s quick to fall over the edge into his first orgasm, only slowing down a little to milk every clench of Jaskier’s hole before he’s fucking with fervor again and soon coaxing himself and Jaskier into orgasm together, and much like their first time he just keeps going, forcing Jaskier’s legs up so that they’re over his shoulder and folding the man in half as he redoubles his efforts and quickly has them hurtling both into another orgasm.

At some point when Jaskier appears no longer lucid and is just whining with the occasional plea, managing to come again even if at this point it’s mostly dry, but still, he doesn’t stop and doesn’t listen to the banging on the walls and at the door telling them that they need to leave, instead he just drives faster into Jaskier, feeling sweat on his brow as he once again empties himself into Jaskier’s hole, now puffy and loose even as it still tries to clench around him and keep him and his come inside just a bit longer.

Eventually, he collapses beside Jaskier, exhausted in a way he hadn’t been in decades and even as tired as Jaskier must feel, he can’t help but laugh when he feels a hand wrap around his softened cock and move to stroke it before he batted it away and told Jaskier to go to bed.

***

Sure enough, after that Jaskier is insatiable and luckily he has the stamina to match. In the beginning, he’d make Jaskier walk beside him on Roach, but as the cloying smell of Jaskier’s arousal only got deeper the longer they walked, and the hands on his thighs whilst Jaskier begged them to stop only for a moment so he could get fucked, meant he soon had Jaskier riding on Roach in front of him.

It was all too easy to push the back of Jaskier’s pants down to expose his ass but keep his dick enclosed, and even easier to slide his cock into the bard’s hole, now always slick and loosened with how often they fuck, and that’s how they spend the day.

The contact isn’t enough to get him off, but just having his cock in his hole is all Jaskier needs to come with a shout and have him staining his pants. Sometimes he’d coax Roach into a trot just to make Jaskier bounce a little in his lap and have him add to the growing stain as he then slows them down again and takes far too much delight when he sees Jaskier hang his head in shame as other travelers pass by and see the stain on his front, making it all too obvious what they’re doing.

It’s usually after such an occasion that he’ll pull them aside, just within the treeline and fuck Jaskier into the dirt or against a tree, a hand over his mouth to muffle his shouts until finally, he comes.

Despite all that Jaskier still isn’t satisfied and playing his lute in the evenings, for the most part, had turned into hanging off his cock, whether that was when they were deep in the woodland or at a tavern.

Taverns either meant Jaskier was very obviously under the table sucking his cock, or just warming it, even that had been enough to get him off a couple of times. On the rare occasion when they were in a town sleazy enough, he would pull Jaskier onto his lap and with one arm around the bard’s waist would fuck him right there for all to see. Some did but were too scared to approach, but for the most part, they remained unnoticed and the more it happened the bolder he became as all Jaskier did was beg more and more for his cock, until he was the reason they were getting kicked out of towns.

Not that he cared, he no longer needed the disappointed touches from whores and the like, not when he had his very own, enthusiastic, and begging all hours of the day and night to be filled with his cock.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {3}

Summary: When emotions run high, even soulmates fight. But, following his brother’s advice, Ethan finds a way to make up for it by including his soulmate in solving a conspiracy theory leading to events that would surely make them much closer than they first were. Plus, it shows what a dynamic duo they make.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing

Word count: 7.5k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Induratize – to make one’s own heart hardened or resistant to someone’s pleas or advances, or the idea of love

Pain. That's her first grasp on reality. It's not something she's unused to; just as she's used to the smell of the disinfectant, Y/N knew of pain in all varieties. However, for the first time ever, she had something different in a hospital setting - a hand to hold.

From time to time, Ethan’s eyes drop to the bed sheets, but mostly they are fixed on her ashen face in a soft stare so that whenever she opens her eyes he’d be the first thing she sees. And once he notices her fingers twitch in his hold, he holds his breath in anticipation of her reaction. He feared she might be unhappy with his presence, but he refused to let go, simply closing his eyes to hide his vigilance.

Opening her eyes in a flash, her neck cracked with the sudden movement for she had to see who the hand belonged to. For a moment she thought it might be one of her parents, the painkillers playing with her mind, making her forget. But she knew it couldn't be them. It was impossible unless there was a new drug that raises the dead.

"Grant?" She croaked, her throat scratchy and her voice hoarse, the consequences of her throat closing leaving her with something to remember for a few days. Who knew she'd manage to get a penicillin allergy after her...fiftieth time taking it? She always felt like a magnet for bad luck and that incident didn't dissuade her.

Ethan wasn't really asleep, not after the night he's had. She needed oxygen more than once and her blood pressure kept dropping even with his efforts to keep it up. It felt like she decided to leave him and no matter how badly he fought for her, she was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Yes?" He murmured, eyes still closed, lips set in a frown as if hearing her call him Grant didn't make his heart jump. He wasn't a morning person and she just realized it. Three nights they've truly known each other, three nights spent together and only on the third did she stay long enough to learn that and the only reason why she stayed is because she was physically incapable of leaving.

"Do I have the fucking plague?" She cracked a smile, struggling to speak but for a reason she couldn't quite understand, Y/N wanted to speak to him, for him, to make him laugh. The frown on his face hurt her more than it should.

She didn't get a smile, but he did open one eye in uncertainty, allowing him to bask in her meek smile. It wasn't much to someone watching from the sidelines, but it meant the world to him. She wanted to cheer him up. She wanted to see him smile. Even with her know it all, sassy, fuck the world mask, Y/N cared for Ethan and he knew that now. Even if that part of her is small, it's a start. Her heart may be hardened to love and soulmates, but he was softening her up. It’s a slow, difficult process, but Ethan is nothing if not dedicated.

"No. Neither of us got the plague, but the man who did have it died." Ethan told her, deciding hiding it from her isn't wise. She'd ask about him anyway.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand out of his, wiping it on the sheets as if his touch is unwanted - as if he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

"Great, so when can I get back to work?" She propped herself up on her elbows, willing to get back on her feet. In her ambition to get back in the operating room, Y/N completely missed the dismissive shake of Ethan's head and the way he jumped to his feet to pull her back.

"You're not going anywhere. In fact, you're on leave for the next week." Ethan stated, a little harshly for his taste but she gets his blood boiling way too easily and he always falls for it. She's a beautiful woman, but it's not her beauty that drives him insane.

"What do you mean? I'm an intern! Interns don't take sick days!" She insisted, sitting right back up, the stress his words caused raised her cortisol and adrenaline levels up in an instant. In all his years, he had never met a woman as stubborn as she is. For Ethan, Y/N was either wildly naive or dangerously intelligent and it is the kindness of her heart and the sharpness of her mind that enriched her soul and drew his close.

"Well, they do when their boss says so and I'm saying so. I've talked to the chief and he agrees. So, you better not show up here before next week and when you do come back, you will be doing scut for a week." Eyebrows knit together, eyes hard, Ethan seemed like an unrelenting force she couldn't fight. Not now when sitting up made her woozy and she knew he was right.

Not that's she'd tell him that.

Ever.

"Why scut?! As if being home isn't punishment enough? What am I being punished for? Huh?" Lowering her voice, Y/N felt her heart skip as the thoughts formed in her head and her mouth was quick to follow. Sometimes she acted on impulse and it wasn't always for the better.

"For leaving the morning after? Because I'm not your hookup, Grant, I am your intern. You don't get to tear into me just because I fucked you once." Swallowing thickly as she stared at his impassive face, she knew she went too far and it wasn't the time nor place and far from the way she wanted to address that night. She was just angry, trying to get some control over the situation she had no way of controlling and it absolutely drove her mad. Perhaps she wanted to get a rise out of him too. So she fucked up. She could tell just by the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched and the warm flames in his eyes were extinguished.

"You have your orders. I have nothing else to say to you." Ethan turned on his heel and before she had a chance to stop him, to apologize, to thank him for saving her life, Ethan was already gone and she was left with regret and guilt.

Too used to pushing people away to protect herself, Y/N now spent her time hating herself for being so quick to speak her mind. Maybe if she was softer, playing dumb like men expect girls to, Ethan would have let her come back to work. But no, she couldn't hold her tongue and she could never play dumb to get anyone's approval. She'd hate herself more if she did.

However, she could always annoy him for progress. What more could he do? He already put her in the corner for doing everything right and then he gave her the worst job for a week to keep punishing her! At least she could get some justice by getting on his nerves, texting him random facts about animals, sending him memes on mean bosses and even voicemails where she talks herself to death about how she was right and he wasn't. All she got was Seen and a daily delivery of chicken soup with bagels and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice. The Get Better basket never had a note, but she knew it was his doing. Ethan cared, even if it’s a little and she couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on her lips every morning she received his thoughtful gift.

But Ethan was worse off than her. After finally having her back in his life, he managed to make himself the enemy. And he knew what he was doing was for her own good so she wouldn't make the same mistakes again, so she could use the week off to get back on her feet because going into anaphylactic shock isn't a walk in the park like she pretended to be. If he didn't bench her she would have put her health at risk and he couldn't let her do it.

Eunoia – beautiful thinking, a well mind

"You sent her home?" Grayson whisper shouted, swiftly pulling Ethan into the on-call room.

"She almost died! What am I supposed to do? Put a scalpel in her hand and let her cut someone open when she's barely standing on her own two feet?!" Ethan wasn't quite as quiet as his brother, his emotions on the verge of spilling out like a river once the dam breaks. Ethan always went through the extremes – he either loved too much or didn’t care at all, the same could apply to his temper.

"No, but you could have let her do paperwork? To observe? To watch your department for you?" Grayson listed which made Ethan's eyes widen, realizing he might have been harder on her than he thought. She’s too good at pushing his buttons, he knew it, but this good? For him to think so irrationally he couldn’t understand his own choices or see beyond his emotions? Never did he realize her influence went so deep.

"Just look at it this way: if you got sent home for a week in your intern year, you'd hate the attendee who did it. And she's more than just an intern and you need to be more careful if you want her to see you as more than just her boss. You're acting like a soulmate not a professional." Grayson explained and his clarification had stumped Ethan. He really needs to think before he acts but she makes all rational thought go out the window.

"But I also gave her a week of scut." Ethan sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head. He couldn't take it back just like that because she'd see him as easily manipulated and he couldn't allow that to spread among the other interns. He had to be a little harder than he should if she wanted to know that everything she got was due to her hard work and not because she slept with him or because she is his soulmate.

"You're in big trouble. But I do recommend you to find a way to work with her on something. It doesn't have to be a surgery and it doesn't have to be in this hospital. Find something to connect over."

Thinking how his brother is now the one who has his shit together made Ethan smile but it also made him worry. Isn't Grayson the one who does things impulsively and fucks things up? Seems like that's no longer the case but at least the advice he gave Ethan was enough for him to get an idea.

It took him a couple of days but when inspiration struck, Ethan was so excited for the implementation of his plan for more than one reason – it was for the greater good and he’d get to see her again. Any excuse to do that was more than exhilarating.

He didn't wait after his shift was done, driving to her apartment with the sole intention of convincing her of a theory many would think was insane but he was sure it was a conspiracy she could help him with.

Knocking on her door, he exhaled loudly, shaking his hands vigorously to get the nerves out. It took everything in him to stop himself from running because his heart beating so loudly was driving him insane and quite literally making him panic.

When the door finally cracked open, Y/N peeking through, Ethan felt his heart calm down and his lips pressed together.

After the way she attacked him the last time they saw each other, Ethan didn't expect her to smile at him nor let him in so easily, however, she opened the door widely and gestured for him to come inside.

He was still angry about how she spoke to him, the crudeness of her words making his blood boil but he also missed her in the past five days she had been away and he desperately needed to see her.

"What can I do for you, boss?" She leaned against a wall, looking at him intently with a small smirk upon her lips. It fell odd having him in her private life, as if he was slowly infiltrating every part of her life, making it impossible for her to ignore how badly she wanted to rip his clothes off and ride him until they're both sweaty and tired with loopy, lazy smiles as they hold each other close even after they finish.

Blushing with her thoughts, Y/N cleared her throat as it seemed Ethan wasn't listening to her before and was too busy looking around. He wanted to see her life, the part of her he'd never know if she was just an intern.

He loves the flowery light scent of the room, even more so the colorful yellow walls and green couch. He loved the art hanging on the walls and the way her carpets were all flower themed. Her entire apartment, or at least what he saw so far, had a spring theme and Ethan felt at ease.

"I'm assuming you're here for a reason, not for decorating ideas?" She cocked an eyebrow, speaking louder this time around and it certainly got his attention even if him turning around had made her breath halt in her throat. It enraged her just how attractive he is.

'Why does he have to be so fucking sexy? Like, he’s just kinking his eyebrow and not even in the obvious, over the top way he usually does! He does it so casually, so unaware that it only makes it sexier and damn it, Ethan Grant Dolan, you are ruining men for me!'

But she doesn't say any of her thoughts out loud, only swallows thickly, reminding herself of the reasons why he's not right for her.

"I have a theory and I need your help to confirm it." Swiping his thumb under his bottom lip, Ethan stepped closer. "I had a patient a while ago with breast cancer and her heart was failing due to chemo. After two doses. So, I did some tests and found there were no signs of breast cancer." Ethan waited for her to realize where he's going with this, wanting to see how quick she is on her feet and not even a second later she stood up, no longer casually leaning on the wall.

"So they're giving chemo to earn more money to patients who don't need it? They're purposefully giving people fake cancer diagnosis? How are their stats?" She spoke quickly, passionately as if she was angry, wanting to start a war. And he liked it - the way she thinks, the way her mind works and how it perfectly matched him. What he lacked, she compensated for and what she lacked, he was more than capable to cover for her. They were, despite all odds, a very dynamic duo and Ethan would soon find out just how well they work together.

"They have a ninety percent success rate for breast cancer patients." Ethan noted and he knew she was on board by the way her fists clenched and her eyes hardened. It felt like she was fire and he would have to contain it - contain her, although he’d love to set her loose on the world and see just how extensive the ruin would be.

"Well, I assume you want me to go with you and act like I found a lump so they can misdiagnose me and order me to be on chemo? To see how it works before we burn them to the ground?" She crossed her arms, raising both eyebrows in expectation and even if he wanted to, Ethan would follow her - to the ends of the Earth if necessary.

Forelsket – the euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love

"Welcome to Smooth Cat." Ethan exclaimed as the passenger door closed and she joined him inside. She didn't quite linger on the car, barely sparing it a glance at first and he knew right away no amount of expensive shiny things will win her over. She wanted something deeper than his pockets.

"You named your car Smooth cat?" She deadpanned, her determination for this case wavering as the amusement showed in her eyes. For once, Ethan managed to make her break the cold surface with just words. Although he didn't think it was as ridiculous as her tone made it out to be.

"Don't hate the kitty when it purrs so nicely and runs so smoothly." Ethan responds, his head high and his lips pursed and so dramatically that Y/N had to crack a smile. For a moment, she mistook him for a humorous person, one that she could imagine herself laughing beside her whole damn life and that thought alone made her heart erratic and her mind chaotic.

"So, you plan on letting me come back to work a bit earlier?" She questions, figuring it's worth a shot especially when they have nothing better to talk about and the awkward silence would drive her insane otherwise. She needed the distraction and he posed as the perfect one. Just as he did that first night.

"No. Not after you went into anaphylaxis and I nearly lost you." Attempting to keep his voice calm and his head leveled, Ethan felt like his heart couldn't follow that instruction. It was more than obvious he couldn't just go back on his word. A leader is consistent and in that hospital he is meant to be a leader, not her soulmate. But his words also showed her his feelings run deeper than he shows.

"Can you honestly tell me that this is how you'd treat the others? I'm not trying to start anything but would anyone else have to do scut? Or is this about our history?" Gnawing on her bottom lip, her tongue dancing along the inside of her teeth as she waited for him to respond. She noticed his eyes turning to the screen of his car instead of the road ahead, tapping something before he turned to her entirely, his hands off the wheel and it made her eyes widen. "And can you please not get us killed?!"

"It's a Tesla. Drives itself." Ethan spoke as if that meant anything to her, as if her anxiety didn't spike at the notion of a car driving her to safety on it's own. She didn't believe that would be a safe way of traveling at all, not that Ethan seemed any better.

"And you're right. I wouldn't treat any other intern like this. In fact, if it were any other intern talking back like you did? They would be suspended." And his eyes didn't waver, looking deep into her own without blinking. Ethan meant what he said with every atom of his being and she knew it too. She knew now that she was right; he did treat her differently, she just didn't know it was for the better.

"I was angry." She quipped, swallowing her pride she saw fit to apologize even if it went against everything she wanted to do. "I'm sorry for being an ass to you...in fact, I wanted to thank you for saving my life that night."

Ethan nods, tongue swiping his bottom lip as he opens his mouth to speak. "Which night? The first one felt like I was quite heroic too." Winking, he couldn't help but notice the way she plays with her fingers, fidgeting nervously, affected by the same memories that haunt him.

"It certainly wasn't heroic but it wasn't...anything less than enjoyable either." She remarked, raising an eyebrow at his statement as if she is unbothered when in fact she is very, very bothered and horny and he could probably tell by her shy smile, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction just yet. Not until she knows where his soulmate is. Whoever it is, she needed to know if that person was in his life, to what extent and if he would be able to ignore that she has a soulmate too, wherever they may be...In a way she wondered if he was the one, but life would never serve her such luck. She's used to not getting favorable things...or men in this particular case.

"Oh, I think otherwise. I even have a certain pair of torn up lace panties and a bra to remember it by." Ethan raised his brow just the same, teasing her relentlessly, genuinely curious how red can her cheeks get. Because as much as he tried to, he couldn't forget the moans he evoked or the way her head would fall back with every dance his fingers played on her. She was and still is the muse for every dream, every fantasy and every lonely night he had to take care of himself.

"I -", Ethan leaned in, ready to hear what she has to say, thinking this might be the right time to tell her he's her forever, but Smooth Cat decided cock-blocking is acceptable and announced their arrival.

Clearing her throat, Y/N broke the eye contact, feeling the intensity of his earthly hues deep inside her heart - eyes that hooked her soul to attention only he could provide. "We should probably get in."

With a nod, Ethan opened the door and she followed his example, walking inside without turning back to look at him, determined to do this right. But for that, she had to swallow her pride once more and play the role.

Just as they enter the main hall, Y/N wrapped her arm around Ethan and his heart almost stopped with the sudden contact. She pulled him closer, glancing up at his poorly hidden shock and smiled meekly but her eyes were anything but - her eyes were hard and they were warning him to play along.

"Hi. Could you help us?" The way she asked felt so...polite? So sweet and innocent, too naively put for Ethan to ever buy the act but the sap on the other side seemed fooled.

"Of course, what can I do for you?" The guy smiles nicely, straightening his back ever so slightly to seem more confident.

"My name is Bailey Nolan and this is Grant Nolan, my husband. I, uh..I was doing a little checkup during shower and I think I felt a lump. In my breast." Shifting her voice to a smaller, fragile tone had surprised Ethan because for a moment he actually believed her too. She is all too convincing. Especially on the husband part and he can’t help but tense up when she calls him that, nor can he stop his heart from pounding uncontrollably with the notion. He imagined her calling him her soulmate and husband so many times since they first met, but to hear it felt divine. It felt better than he thought it would and he just wished she could have said it while gazing in his eyes, his arms around her as he holds her close.

Leaning in closer to the receptionist, Y/N glances left before she whispered softly: "I'm scared it might be cancer."

It didn't take long for the two to be accompanied to an examination room. With instructions to prepare for the exam, Ethan and Y/N found themselves alone for a little while.

"Expecting a free show?" Y/N narrowed her eyes at Ethan, her hands clinging to the gown left for her to change into so the examination would go quicker. She was more than willing to lose her clothes that night they met, but that was under the cloak of night and this? Being in a well-lit room with nothing to draw his attention from her body? It didn't make her as happy to strip down and flash her boobs.

"It's not like I haven't seen them before, ya know? I know exactly how they look." Ethan's cocky voice had caught her off guard just as the little step forward he made toward her. With a raised eyebrow and a vain smile Ethan tilts his head and Y/N wanted nothing more but to wipe that smirk off his face. But she couldn't. Not when his words are facts, not fiction and especially not when her body ached for his weight on top of hers.

"I kissed every inch, even the little mole nested right between -", stopping him before he finished his thought, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes set aflame as she felt her face burning, her voice low and cold as she spoke. "I get it, but I'm asking you to stop. To not look at me now and not look at me during the ultrasound and please, for the love of God, bring me my bra back." She spoke fast and with uncertainty, mostly because she was more than lost in this new situation where she managed to not just stumble upon a one night stand but to work for him and the power balance is way off and she can’t help but feel very threatened by that.

Did she love how powerful and ambitious Ethan is? Absolutely. Did she enjoy him bossing her around? Not a chance. And she is right, the power balance in their relationship is way off, but not in the way she thinks.

She was completely unaware how whipped Ethan is for her and the way she leans a little closer to him when they talk but she doesn't do the same with anyone else. And he's absolutely crazy about the way she ties her hair in a braid so quickly while she's in the hospital, or how she seems to have fire in her soul, making her a force of nature. And yeah, she is making it hard for him not to move in and kiss her every chance he gets, but he needs to do this right. Her views on soulmates don't seem to match his and he wanted her to love him for who he is and what they've experienced together, not just a bond made by a single look as a gift from destiny. And while she changed behind the curtain, Ethan wanted her to know that too.

"I won't look. I wasn't going to. Just teasing you, darling. But the bra is mine to keep."

Necrophobia – fear of death and associated things

Before she gets a chance to retaliate, the doctor entered the room, introducing himself as Y/N laid on the table, her eyes glancing to Ethan who focused on the doctor instead of her breast as the man began a palpable examination first.

"I don't feel the lump, but I'd like to do an ultrasound too, just to be sure." Raising both eyebrows, Y/N wondered if the man had been wrongly accused by Ethan, making brief eye contact with Ethan who forgot himself and his promise for a moment in his own surprise.

"Oh." But then the doctor stopped, looking closer at the screen with his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed and Y/N lifts her head.

"Oh? What do you mean by oh?" She demanded, Ethan leaning toward the screen to see better himself but even he wasn't the best in reading breast ultrasounds, that was more Grayson's specialty.

"I'm sorry to say, but I believe your worries were right."

Ringing in her ears, Y/N felt like someone hit her over the head with a rock, her mind stopping as her eyes moved to the screen the man turned for them to see.

"This", the doctor pointed at the screen and Ethan leaned in closer, his heart beating out his chest as his hand blindly searched for Y/N's to hold, wanting to give her comfort as well as seek some reassurance for himself.

"This is a solid mass and while we will need to do more tests when you're ready, my experience taught me this is often a malignancy. It's where most cancers show statistically, but you're young and I feel we caught it in time. We can set up an appointment for confirmation and more imaging, but I'm confident we will win this."

And the doctor spoke, explaining things Y/N could barely hear, feeling like she's under the water, dragged back into hell she barely escaped.

Not even realizing it, she found herself back in Ethan's Smooth Cat, her hand held tightly - no longer gingerly touched, but strongly feeling Ethan's presence. She was so thankful for that. So, so thankful.

With a growing lump inside her throat, Y/N couldn't speak, panic spreading through her as she felt Ethan's other hand touch her cheek, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head toward him.

"I called Grayson and he will meet us in an examination room at the breast unit as soon as we arrive. Remember we can't take anything he says as factual before we check. Okay? You're okay, darling. It's going to be okay." And while he tried to put up a brave front, she felt the tremors in his hands and she heard him swallow tears.

Nodding, she let out a heavy sigh of relief, his words reminding her why they were at the clinic and although she saw the lump on her ultrasound clearly, she prayed she wasn't that unlucky to get cancer. Again.

Rushing to the breast unit, Grayson is already at the door, waving the two inside. Upon entering, Ethan is basically helping Y/N rip her shirt and bra off, her breasts no longer off limits as both of them are out of their minds with worry.

"Wow, Ethan, stay the fuck outside!" Grayson shouted, throwing a sheet over an exposed Y/N, horrified by his brother and his disregard for her comfort and needs.

"We're way past that!" Ethan and Y/N scream in unison as she tosses the sheet off. Breathing uneven, her cheat rising with every shallow breath she takes, Y/N turned to Ethan who was ready to scream but stayed a few feet away. But then she outstretched her arm, her hand open with the palm turned up, her fingers wiggling to invite him closer.

Slightly reluctant, Ethan took her hand in his, fingers intertwining as he rests his elbows on the gurney, his eyes looking into hers only to find fear and unshed tears that disarmed him faster than he believed possible. It's not a secret she's been ruling his heart and mind since they met...since before that, but he never realized how willing he'd be to fall victim to her, to be her captive, to stand in the eye of the storm and admire it even when it threatens to destroy him.

Two hearts beating as one, their eyes speaking volumes about what they can't say just yet, it felt like the world faded and no one but them remained.

But the magic had been broken once Y/N felt the coldness of the gel on her breast, her hand tightened around his and her eyes closed shut. She couldn't handle seeing it again: her dreams all die and her journey to return to start - alone again, rotting in a clinic with nothing to hope for. She found medicine the first time, her graduation and desire to travel the world the second time, but third time? What will she have to look forward to? Eminent death and impending doom of finding a soulmate she never even knew about? Or Ethan?

But he has his soulmate, she reminds herself. He probably has someone waiting for him to come home, a beautiful woman, maybe a couple of kids? Who knows? He wouldn't be her saving grace this time around.

"Good news. The guy's a fraud. This ultrasound is clear. There's nothing malignant here." Grayson's smile is quick to spread, to lighten the somber atmosphere and while he probably should have stopped there, it wouldn't really be Grayson if he did, especially when Ethan and Y/N remained silent, processing the news a bit too long for Grayson's liking.

"Yeah, in fact, this is beautiful breast. It's truly phenomenal, like exquisite -", and that's when Ethan and Y/N finally tuned in, the looks on their faces saying just how far he went. Ethan covered her breasts so fast, pulling his body halfway over hers to protect her from view, his glare burning holes into his brother who raised his arms in mock surrender, defending his honor and quite frankly his life.

"I was just going to say it's like a perfect anatomy, nothing sexual."

"Bro, just go. Leave while you're still ahead." Ethan practically growled through gritted teeth and Grayson didn't plan on sticking around for those teeth to grab a hold of his throat. Because Ethan reminded him of a lion, king of the jungle and he looked ready to kill to protect his lioness.

Selenophile – a person who loves the moon

Scratching the back of his head, Ethan stepped away, releasing her hand reluctantly with a sigh. He wanted to keep this moment going, to have her so close and while he hated himself for it, he liked being needed that day. Every look she gave him, every touch no matter how small, it made him feel wanted like never before and for the first time in forever he just wanted to stay in the moment with her.

"Are you okay?" Ethan's voice is rough, his throat scratchy and his heart slowly calming down. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze, allowing her to sit up and get dressed without having her yell at him for peeping.

"I...I guess. What are we going to do about this guy?" She changed the topic deliberately, scared she might say too much because this fright had brought her back to all those times she was stuck in the hospital, alone and terrified of what might become of her. It reminded her of the friends she saw die and of the days she thought she would too.

"Grayson? He didn't mean anything by that, he just word vomits whenever he's nervous and it got fairly awkward really fast." Ethan chuckled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth, dragging them across the soft flesh before releasing it a shade darker.

"No. Not Grayson. I mean that quack of a doctor who told me I have cancer!" She raised her voice inadvertently, hoping Ethan wouldn't notice the raw emotion behind it nor the loss of common sense that washed over her.

"I have a solid amount of paperwork proving his scams. I just wanted to know for sure today. Grayson is already dealing with it. As you can tell, my brother is a boobie lover and he won't let this man get away for all the boob owners that were tricked into this." Ethan watched her back move with her shallow breaths, her inability to turn around and look him in the eye raising his anxiety levels with each passing second.

"You don't fuck with people like that. You just don't." She mutters quietly, her voice just above a whisper and Ethan can feel his heart break and he doesn't even know why.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Y/N stood up, meek and shaken and so clearly in need of distance because if she stays even just for a minute, Ethan will know one of the worst things she had to endure and she couldn't do that. She couldn't let him in. Not when he can't stay. So she did what she does best. She bolted out the room, ignoring Ethan's pleas for her to stop and talk to him.

She went to where she was the first time she met Ethan. She went to where her life was supposed to start and it did...In a way, that day was the best day of her life - she was free of the curse her body was under and she met Ethan.

So yes, she ended up in the Oncology ward, gowning up before entering the room where comatose patients struggled to survive. As weird as it is, it had always been her favorite and least favorite place to hide from the world, a place she could find peace and serenity but also reconcile her life might end in one of those rooms as well, so she always sat there and just reminded herself to breathe as long as she could, as fiercely as she could.

She sat by one of the patients, looking sadly down at their broken, beaten bodies and how it betrayed them in the worst possible way. As usual, most patients are older or have their grey hair as proof they found their soulmate, but then again, she saw two kids there too.

She was once a kid on these ventilators too. Her friends were on them too. Not all of them made it out.

Comas aren't romantic at all like in the movies, she knew it better than anyone. The person in that bed isn't flawlessly combed nor do they have make up to cover their flaws. They aren't comfortable nor is their spirit waiting by the bed as their loved ones come and go, confessing how much they love the unlucky bastard for years to come. No...coma is what takes the basic human pride and decency. It strips you of all that makes you human. Some survive and recover, going home with amnesia for the time they spent in their state, some don't survive it at all...but there is a third option for those who survive, but they aren't exactly alive. For them, coma means tubes being stuck into their nose for feeding, into their mouth for breathing, into their urethra for peeing and a diaper for shitting. It means eyes covered with gauze to help keep their eyes moist, their throat cut open to move the breathing tube if that state continues; wires, needles, medical students practicing on them because they aren't supposed to feel the pain. It means pressure ulcers that turn into huge gaping wounds because the nurses are understaffed, overworked and underpaid and can't possibly move every patient in time to prevent complications. And the worst part is that the longer they are comatose, less people come to see them. They're alone, abandoned in a room without any chance of recovery, robbed of their right of moving on, truly being liberated. They would welcome death doctors are forced to keep away.

And she had witnessed it happen far too often. She had seen many comatose patients in her time during her stays in the hospital because of her cancer. Some of them she'd visit at night because she felt bad for them, others were her cancer buddies who were losing the battle. Either way, there wasn't anything to romanticize. Coma isn't a pretty state, it's her worst nightmare.

"You're not okay."

Startled, Y/N looks back at the door, aware who it is before she sees the person the voice belongs to. And there he is, the man she wants to know more than anything but can't allow herself to care. If they were meant to be, if he is her soulmate, he'd tell her by now. Right?

"You're always running after me." She smiles weakly, the sadness in her eyes tearing into Ethan who, even now, saw her as the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth. In his hundred plus years, Ethan never saw a human as flawlessly beautiful as her.

"Someone's got to." With a slight shrug, Ethan sat on a chair beside her, his eyes fixed on her with a softness behind his hazel hues she rarely saw in anyone. He cares. She could see that now and no amount of fear that evoked would make her walk away. She wanted to stay. She wanted him to look at her as softly as he does now for the rest of her life.

Y/N no longer cared about whoever her soulmate is because she couldn't imagine caring about someone as much as she does for Grant, not ever.

"When I was nine I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer with metastasis in surrounding lymph nodes. After surgery and chemotherapy they said I'd be fine. They said it would be like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't fine." Swallowing a growing lump in her throat, Y/N glanced at Ethan who looked distressed by her story, like his heart had fallen through the cracks and shattered on the ground. But it was too late and she could tell he was staring at her throat for signs of surgical scarring and she felt self-conscious just like she did when they first cut her open.

"I learned to hide the scar with either scarfs or make up. And I thought I could move on and be happy but I was fifteen when I was rushed into the emergency room because I collapsed in school. Turns out the metastasis were in my lungs and while they were unsure if it was truly related to the first cancer diagnosis or if it was a new sort, one thing was sure...I needed more chemotherapy...more pain, more hospitals, more lonely days and nights and I had no one. My parents were always too involved with each other and their jobs than me. I was alone. And scared. Studying medicine saved me." She sighed, looking over the patients.

"The chemotherapy ruined my bone marrow, a little something I found out in my last year of med school after which I had to wait almost a year while I got a transplant and my immune system normalized. It was the only good thing my dad ever did for me." She shrugged, daring to look back at Ethan who looked so frustrated with what she went through, horrified by the thought of her being alone all those years when the worst has happened to her. And he hated he wasn't there for her.

"The night we met? At the bar? I was here for a final checkup because my doctor moved. I got the all clear and I was depressed I had no one to celebrate the official news of my remission and my life getting back on track." She admitted sheepishly.

"But as great as it was, we can't go back to that. You are my boss and I'm your intern and while it's going to be hard, we have to let it go. So, can I please just get back to work?"

Shaking his head, Ethan chuckled in disbelief.

"You're with Grayson next week and every free moment you have you will deal with my paperwork. That's all I can give you. But you can't seriously expect me to forget that night. Or any of it since." His demeanor changed and the softest he had about him had disappeared.

"I appreciate you telling me all this and I wish I could have been there for you, I do! But I am here now and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. I care for you. But you drive me so mad sometimes." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan tried to calm down and actually be supportive because it was hard for her to open up to him like she did and he wanted to be understanding but every move forward ends up being two steps back with her and Ethan was stressed and tired and he needed her to realize she was stuck with him.

“You’re like a book! A big, strange book I barely understand.” He was slowly losing patience, she could tell. And a part of her hoped he’d let her go and give up. A part of her prayed for it to happen. But another part, one hidden deep inside, that part wanted Ethan more than the oxygen she needed to breathe. He was her oxygen, the air her soul needed. And he wasn't letting up, despite it all.

“Learn me slowly then. Please? Just be patient with my pages.”

And in that moment, they shared a silent agreement. In her darkness, he saw her light shine through. He is a selenophile and she his moon.

In that moment, Ethan saw fit to lean closer, his eyes glancing at her supple lips before focusing on her eyes again. He wanted to make sure she wanted it to happen as much as he did, even if it was completely inappropriate from the place it was happening down to their work relationship. It was all kinds of wrong, yet it felt right. It felt so, so right.

She didn't move away, she didn't make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover's touch for when Ethan's lips brushed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

Just before letting go and surrendering himself to this gentle surprise, Ethan looked at his soulmate with a new hope in mind and a promise he would never let her demons drown her.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tags: @beinscorpio​ @peacedolantwins​ @heyits-claire​ @dolandolll​ @godlydolans​ @dolanstwintuesday​ @ethanhes​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​ @fxkthatdairy​ @zeusgrayson​ @libradolan​ @justordinaryjen​ @pineappledolan​ @graysavant​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​  @shadowsndaisies​ @maybgrayson​

[maybankiara]

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: With Midsummers having come and gone, Kiara thinks the only consequences will be their friends teasing them for a little bit, and telling her parents they called it off slips her mind. Nobody expects the Carreras to decide they want to see JJ again, and when they do, it’s pretend all over again.

word count: 6k

almost pretend masterlist | tag list

read on ao3

previous chapter

‘So, did you guys mack on each other?’

  John B’s arm is slung over Sarah’s shoulder as they are both draped over one of the hammocks in Chateau’s backyard. He’s grinning at the trio in the hammock opposite of theirs, mostly at Kiara and JJ. 

  ‘Please,’ scoffs Kiara. ‘As if I’d ever.’

  ‘Ouch, Kie.’ Next to her, JJ puts a hand on his chest, pouting. ‘I think I heard my heart crack.’

  ‘Pope will fix it for you.’

  ‘Nu-uh, I’m nobody’s mechanic.’

  ‘Not even for me?’

  Pope makes a throwing-away motion with his hand, shaking his head at JJ. ‘Not even for you.’

  ‘Ouch! You guys are mean.’ JJ sighs. He pats Kiara and Pope’s thighs as he pushes himself off the hammock, accompanied with grunts from the two. ‘I’m getting beer. Anyone want some?’

  They all say they do, which makes him groan at himself for trying to be nice to them, but goes to get it for them anyway. It feels as if the atmosphere has shifted ever so slightly, with all three remaining people having their eyes trained on Kiara now. 

  ‘What?’

  ‘So you really didn’t kiss?’ asks Sarah.

  ‘No! We didn’t!’ Kiara sighs and lets herself be swallowed by the hammock, taking up the space JJ left empty. Her head is touching Pope’s lap and he’s looking at her as if he’s waiting for her to say something else. ‘Why are you guys being so insistent on that?’

  Pope cocks his head to the side, exchanging a quick glance with the other two before looking back at her. ‘I don’t know. We just thought something could’ve happened.’

  She feels her chest stiffen. ‘Did you guys make bets?’

  ‘No,’ says Pope, but he’s an awful liar. ‘No, we didn’t.’

  Kiara decides to let it slide.

  ‘You guys are making me feel uncomfortable. It was just one night and it’s over. We can talk about something else, like asking John B and Sarah if they had enough condoms for their little escapade while Big John was away for the weekend.’

  As if on cue, Kiara hears JJ’s footsteps coming from the Chateau, accompanied by a rant about having to carry this many cans all on his own. It’s enough to take the Pogues’ attention away from the topic they’d been discussing, and beer is enough to get them to actually talk about something else. 

  JJ comes to sit back down with Kiara and Pope. She doesn’t realise in time, so she doesn’t raise her head up from his spot, but he pulls her legs up and sits down, putting them over his lap instead. 

  It’s such a nonchalant, effortless movement that she thinks nobody notices. But JJ’s hands are on her legs and she feels them move as he talks, and it’s difficult to get the group’s previous conversation out of her head. 

  it’s just jj, she thinks, and the thought releases the heaviness from her chest. 

  (just john, she thinks, and it’s stupid enough to make her light again.)

  ★

Eventually, though, the conversation does get back to Midsummers. It’s Pope who starts it as they drive back to the Chateau, leftovers from the Wreck in the back of the van with him and JJ. 

  ‘So, what’s the deal with you two?’ he asks, mouth full of fries. ‘What do you do now that your entire family and Kooklandia think you’re dating?’

  Kiara munches on her burger, glancing at Pope. Next to him, JJ is staring at her with a question in his eyes – they haven’t talked about this. 

  She stuffs a fry into her mouth and shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’

  Pope bumps JJ’s shoulder. ‘Hey, now you’ve got to keep pretending until you’re Mr. Carrera and it’s too late to stop.’

  ‘Hey, if the kooks like me as much as they did that night, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Ew.’ The boy next to him makes a grimace, scrunching up his nose. ‘Kook sympathiser.’

  ‘You’re just jealous.’

  ‘Well, yeah. We all are. Except for Kiara.’

  Kiara smiles, rolling her eyes at the half-assed joke, but the words take her back to half-assed smiles the kooks gave her and her family. It takes her back to JJ giving her hand a squeeze and keeping her calm throughout the night, so she looks at the road, instead. 

  John B’s concentrated on driving with a burger in one hand, and it’s easier to pretend it’s just the two of them. She knows JJ is perceptive enough to have a better understanding of her kook status than any of the other two – she doesn’t want to see whatever must’ve been on his face after Pope’s words. 

  Especially not pity. 

  The whole charade is mentioned only once more that night, when they’re having the last of beers, just John B, JJ, and herself. Pope left earlier to get a good night’s sleep as his dad expects him to work first thing in the morning, and Sarah is busy spending time with her family (they’re doing some therapy one of her dad’s friends suggested, because he found out about her brother’s addiction).

  ‘You know, JJ, you’re one hell of a fake boyfriend,’ Kiara says. She raises her can in the air, exchanging glances with both boys. ‘I wanna cheers to that.’

  ‘Hell yeah. That’s what I wanted to hear.’

  All three of them bump cans into one another, laughing as it takes them a lot more effort than it would if they were sober. 

  Next to Kiara, JJ spreads his arms over the couch behind him. ‘You know, it was a good night.’

  ‘What was he like?’ asks John B. He’s sitting across the two, leaning against the wooden wall. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. ‘JJ in the middle of Kooklandia. I can’t picture that.’

  ‘Oh, he was loving it,’ Kiara answers. ‘He tricked at least a dozen of them into thinking that they’d do business with him, or whatever. You know, the usual.’

  John B laughs. 

  ‘Yeah. I was a real catch that night.’

  Kiara glances at JJ, because his voice seems a little distant, and not in a drunk kind of way. 

  He’s looking at the space between the three of them, eyes out of focus. There’s the hint of a smile dancing in one corner of his lips, but it looks like something that’s a reflex, nothing else. JJ looks almost entirely different in that moment – it reminds her of the JJ she spoke to at the beach during the party, when he needed a few minutes of quiet. 

  Her hand reaches for his and she gives it a little squeeze. If John B notices, he doesn’t mention it. For a moment, JJ does nothing, but then she feels him applying the same pressure. He raises his head and gives her a little nod, as if he’s saying i’m okay.

  Kiara sends him a smile, before turning to John B. ‘He had all the kook ladies willing to leave their ugly ass husbands for him. The James Dean of our times.’ 

  John B laughs and JJ comments how James Dean was actually bisexual and he isn’t, and soon enough, it begins to feel a little less out of place. Still, JJ doesn’t let go of her hand even as he waves around the air with the other one. 

  It’s the first time that Kiara notices something has changed since Midsummers. Spending the night with JJ in an environment neither of them felt comfortable in exposed some part of their personalities they haven’t shown to one another before, and not to the pogues, either. She looks at him, now, as he talks about why the movies James Dean starred in are valuable pieces of art, and thinks about how she doesn’t see him the same as before. 

  They have something that’s just theirs, realises Kiara. The experience of Midsummers and the things they found out about one another is something only the two of them share. 

  He doesn’t let go of her hand until he’s back to his old, JJ Maybank-self.

  ★

Kiara is at work when her dad tells her to invite John to dinner tomorrow. She’s got her hands full of plates and glasses and nearly just about costs her dad 200 bucks when she almost drops them. 

  ‘Careful, Kiara!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, turning in the spot. ‘Um, JJ? Are you sure?’

  A slight wrinkle appears between Mike’s eyebrows. He flips a steak he’s currently cooking, handling the pan and the spatula at the same time. ‘Yeah. That’s your boyfriend’s name, right? John?’

  ‘Um. We call him JJ.’

  ‘JJ, then.’

  Mike makes an offhand motion towards the waiting area of the restaurant. The dishes on Kiara’s tray shake as she walks where he directed to, towards a table with a family of four. She manages a smile, but the conversation is cut short when she finds herself incapable of holding one. The mother thanks her and she’s kind enough that Kiara’s newfound jitters don’t end up causing a scene. 

  On her way back, she stops at the bar, taking a breather. 

  fuck. 

  ‘You good, Kie?’ From behind the bar, her cousin Iona throws a dish towel over her shoulder, a toothpick in her mouth. ‘Looking a little pale.’

  Kiara nods. She glances at her dad, who’s busy taking an order on the phone, and feels herself shudder. ‘All good. Just got a little lightheaded.’

  ‘You’ve been on your feet too long,’ notes Iona. She grins and cocks her head to the side, towards the backdoor of the restaurant. ‘Go out and take five. I’ll deal with your pops.’

  ‘Iona, you’re a gem.’

  Outside the back of the Wreck, there’s a little wooden bench where Iona usually sits on during her breaks. There’s cigarette butts in the little ashtray on the side of the bench, and she wonder how stressed just does her cousin get. 

  (Of course, she’s got better things to wonder about, the ones that are actually causing her to feel like she’s walking on needles, but ignoring them feels better.)

  Iona’s been working at the Wreck for about seven years now. At the age of almost twenty-one, she’s the eldest of Kiara’s cousins on her dad’s side and she’s by far the one she’s closest to. They’re friends, kind of, even if they aren’t in the same social circles. Kiara knows Iona’s friend group does drugs harder than weed, and the girl being from the Cut, she’s gotten herself in a fair share of trouble already.

  This brings her thoughts back to another person from there who can’t seem to stay out of trouble, and Kiara rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling her shoulders slouch. 

  It’s been nearly two weeks since Midsummers and foolishly, she forgot about the whole “dating” situation. Even the pogues stopped harassing her and JJ about what happened, or what might’ve happened.

  She forgot. Her parents didn’t. Her parents still think she’s dating JJ because she forgot the part of her plan where she tells them they ended things, amicably, and now she’s too much of a pussy to do it. 

  fuck. 

  Kiara just wants to throw something, but the only thing on hand is the ashtray, so she just kicks the bench underneath her. 

  It hurts her heel. She curses again and grits her teeth, angrier by the second.

  JJ is going to kill her. She promised him it would be a one-time thing and even if he joked to the pogues that he wouldn’t mind doing it again, that doesn’t make it okay. 

  It’s been more than five minutes, Kiara is angry and her foot is starting to really hurt and her dad is going to call her back in any second now. Her mind is buzzing – she’s freaking out, a little bit, maybe. 

  Her phone’s in her pocket, so she takes it out and shoots JJ a text. It’s short and concise and it explains what’s going on a little better than the one before Midsummers did, but she’s still a jittery bundle of nerves. She even has the urge to bite her nails, or pick at the ends of her hair, which is a JJ thing to do, not Kiara. 

  The phone in her hand buzzes and she pulls down the notification, reading only the first text before opening the chat. Her heart already sets in her chest – the rests of the messages that keep buzzing in only make it calmer. 

  JJ [7:22pm] ur dads offering free food. of course im coming

  JJ [7:22pm] do you think kiara carreras bf would wear a tie to smth like that or just jeans 

  JJ [7:23pm] also does your dad send innocent boys to military 

  JJ [7:23pm] that ones for science

  Kiara sends another text, telling JJ to stop asking and get into character! and the fact that he doesn’t even seem upset about this not being a one-time thing, gives her enough rest to finish her shift. Even her dad mentions she’s all chipper when she tells him JJ has agreed to come over, and Iona tells her she knew it was about a boy. 

  It doesn’t matter. Kiara finishes the rest of her shift with a spring in her step – for whatever reason, she has a good feeling about this.

   

★

JJ shows up too soon. It’s just fifteen minutes, but dinner isn’t ready yet and the table isn’t set and the living room is a little bit of a hot mess, so Kiara just takes him to her room. Through the hum of the cooker hood, she hears her dad shout at them to keep the door open, and it relieves some of the tension that anchored itself within her chest. 

  If they’re wanting to close the door, it will be for a variety of things they shouldn’t be doing, but sex isn’t one of them. 

  JJ plops face-down onto her bed, making a whew! sound. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a Kildare County logo, probably stolen from his dad. Kiara told him to dress like he’d dress if he was genuinely going to have dinner with his girlfriend’s parents for the first time (and now she’s slightly regretting not actually choosing the outfit). 

  ‘You’re not going to impress anyone looking like that,’ she notes, getting into a cross-legged position next to him. 

  He pushes himself off the mattress, just enough to prop his torso on his elbows. ‘Are you saying I’m not parent-approved?’

  ‘I don’t know. You might not be.’

  ‘Shit. What if they make you break up with me?’

  Kiara covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head in feigned disbelief. ‘But you’re my true love!’

  ‘It’s okay.’ JJ’s hand is on her knee and his expression is soft, enough to make her almost believe in it. ‘Love always finds a way.’

  It’s almost good enough, Kiara tells herself, almost. Because there’s little wrinkles in his forehead and a gleam to his eyes and the curve of his lips is somehow different than she’s used to, a little less prominent but somehow more, and suddenly Kiara is thinking of a lot of things at once. 

  What she does is roll back in laughter, sticking her hands in her hair. She looks at JJ, and he’s smiling right back at her. 

  ‘You’re a terrific actor,’ she tells him. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any problems tonight.’

  ‘You, on the other hand…’

  ‘Oh, excuse me!’ She pushes him so he loses his balance and falls on his side, groaning. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m good at acting.’

  JJ scofs. He shakes his head and his hair loses some, if nearly all of its composure. ‘Sure, yeah, I remember how that play went in sixth grade.’

  ‘We don’t talk about that.’

  ‘We don’t?’

  Kiara shakes her head. 

  ‘Must’ve missed the memo, then. They didn’t give it to actually good actors.’

  JJ receives a playful slap on the back and just as she begins to tickle him, her mother calls their names from downstairs. They smoothen each other’s clothes, looking for any wrinkles and imperfections, and JJ’s thumb brushes off a smudge of chapstick he caused by tickling Kiara when she was putting it on.

  (‘What are you wearing lipstick for?’

  ‘It’s cherry chapstick, dumbass. So my lips aren’t crusty. Smell it.’)

  Neither of them is taken aback by the intimacy of the action, even if the edge of Kiara’s lips burns where he touched it. Her dad calls them again and Kiara’s fingers go through JJ’s blonde hair fixing it into a little bit less of a mess, but still messier than he came with. 

  He glances at himself in the mirror and frowns at Kiara through it. ‘Why did you mess it up?’

  Kiara smiles. ‘Can’t have you too perfect, I don’t want them to like you too much. Anyway, let’s go eat.’

   ★

Dinner at the Carreras’, especially when there’s people over to impress, is a big deal. Kiara’s dad is the owner of the Wreck, which is one of the two restaurants from the island that employ people from the island, as opposed to Figure Eight’s staff imported from some of the finest restaurants on the mainland. That means he gets down and dirty, and adores preparing meals, so whatever he’s going to serve is going to be nothing short of a five-star meal. 

  When they came down to the table, Mike and Anna had prepared a full feast. Roast chicken with onion and sage stuffing sat in the middle, a variety of salads and toppings and side dishes scattered around it. They didn’t know what JJ liked, and when Kiara said that he’ll eat just about anything he can get his hands on, even mouldy bread, Mike decided to show the boy what a dinner is.

  There are times when Kiara wonders if he’s heard stories about Luke Maybank – if he has an inkling of what’s happening behind closed doors in the Maybank family. 

  In any case, both Carreras were right. JJ ended up tasting a bit of everything, taking as much as he could and showering her dad with compliments. 

  They’re ready for dessert, JJ finally having admitted that he’s left just enough room for it, and Anna invites Kiara to come along to the kitchen. 

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ her mom notes. 

  ‘Mom!’ 

  Kiara leans back a little, just enough to see through the kitchen door. JJ has a smile on his face as he chats to her dad, and even though she can tell there’s a little bit of fearful respect hiding behind it, it’s better than she could’ve hoped for. 

  The thought brings out a smile to her face, too. ‘He is.’

  ‘You should’ve introduced him to us sooner.’ Her mom hands her a clean plate one after the other, and Kiara stacks them. ‘Your dad seems to like him.’

  Her eyebrows perk up at Anna’s words. ‘He does?’

  ‘Mhm. I haven’t seen him this interested in a boy in a long time, even the ones working for him.’  

  ‘But he’s interrogating him,’ Kiara counters. 

  ‘He’s making sure John is—sorry, JJ is the right person for you and won’t screw you over.’

  All Kiara gives in response is a sigh. She watches her mother cut the cake she made (her dad sucks at baking) and she can already tell JJ is going to love it. It’s got custard filling on the inside, between the biscuit layers, and chocolate sprinkles on top with a crunchy crust on the outside. 

  It’s yet another thought that makes her smile. 

  Anna places a piece on the plate Kiara is currently holding. It’s not supposed to take long, but she is as diligent as her husband when it comes to food, so it does. 

  Kiara can overhear the conversation taking place in the dining room, but not enough to be able to tell apart what they’re talking about. She can only hope it isn’t about her. 

  ‘You know,’ her mom begins, putting a piece on another plate. ‘It’s very obvious that he cares a lot for you.’

  ‘Obviously, he’s my best friend. And boyfriend,’ she adds, quickly. ‘Best friend and boyfriend.’

  ‘The winning combination.’ Anna gives her daughter one of her rare, earnest smiles. ‘I can see it in his eyes, you know. When he looks at you, it’s as if you’re the only thing he sees.’

  Kiara shifts the plates in her hands, maneuvering them around, really doing just about anything she can to hide her face from her mother. She knows she’s blushing—she feels the heat in her cheeks, on her neck, on her freaking palms—and she doesn’t want that to be seen. 

  ‘Don’t hide from me, I can tell what you’re doing. You’ve got the same look in your eyes, you know? It’s not something to be ashamed of.’

  it is when you’re not actually dating, Kiara thinks, but bites her tongue before the words slip out.

  She just nods, manages to come up with a smile and follows back into the dining room. Anna is the one who presents the cake and just like Kiara thought, JJ hardly contains himself before reaching for his piece (and then a few more). She likes seeing him enjoy himself; she likes seeing him happy, even if her dad terrifies him. 

  Kiara has some cake, too, and listens to JJ tell a story from his childhood. He leaves out a few major details that would classify the story as illegal, and both her parents laugh at it. 

  At some point, JJ notices something’s up with her. He doesn’t say anything, listening intently to Anna’s tales about being a lawyer since JJ expressed some interest in the profession, but his hand finds hers under the table. It’s a subtle touch, more of a question than a statement, and Kiara’s fingers intertwine with his. 

  Some time later, her parents get involved in a few exchanges between themselves only, and JJ glances at her with eyebrows raised in question. 

  She nods, with a smile, and feels her hand squeezed. 

    ★

JJ asks her if she wants to go for a walk once Kiara’s parents have retreated from the kitchen. Both he and Kiara have offered to help out with the cleaning, but Anna was adamant that they don’t, so there was quite literally nothing else to do. 

  Outside, the air is chilly. Kildare island smells of the sea, wherever you go, and Kiara often thinks she could never be away from the sea. It’s the one thing she associates with home – the distinct smell of salt mixed with oak trees and freshly mowed grass, occasional bonfire and barbecue. 

  That is what comes to mind when someone says home. She isn’t much of a person who ties herself to places or people as her anchors, but memories are where she finds herself dwelling. Memories and experiences. 

  This part of the island is quiet. Her and JJ’s steps on the gravel path are the only thing she can hear that isn’t animals, really. It’s calming and terrifying, to not hear children playing outside even so late at night, like she always hears when she’s on her way home from the Chateau. 

  ‘What’re you thinking about?’

  Kiara glances at JJ, shaking her head a little, smiling a little more. ‘Everything,’ she says. ‘This is going to sound stupid, but I think I’m starting to appreciate what I’ve got. Friends, family, work, all the memories I’ve made here… It’ll be difficult to let go of it someday.’

  JJ chuckles, dryly, but doesn’t say anything. His footsteps fall into the same rhythm as her and he edges just a little bit closer. ‘Do you often think about leaving?’

  His voice is curious, but it’s low and slow in a way that’s making her wonder if there’s more behind the question. He doesn’t look at her when he asks it – he’s looking forward instead, eyebrows a little furrowed and shoulders hunched. 

  ‘Sometimes,’ admits Kiara. ‘I think about college, and sometimes about what happens after. I always thought I’d go out there, travel the world, try to save as much of it as I can, but I don’t know anymore. There’s people who need help here, too. People I see every day.’ She pauses, glancing at him. ‘Recently, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d come back here after college.’

  JJ nods without a word.

  She doesn’t think about him when she mentions the people who could use her help, and she wants to backtrack on that statement, but it feels like the deed is done. There’s only hoping he understands she doesn’t see him as someone needing fixing. 

  ‘You think you’d stay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got some time to decide.’ Kiara glances at him again and this time, he’s got an expression on his face that she can’t read. He’s thinking about something, she can tell, but beyond that he’s a mystery. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ His voice is sharp and deadpan, no thinking behind it. ‘As soon as I’ve got high school sorted, I’m out.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  JJ nods. ‘You’re going to be at college or travelling the world. Pope is going to be a big shot somewhere far away from here, where he can actually have a future. John B and Sarah are going to do whatever floats their boat, but considering their Romeo and Juliet status here, they won’t stick around, either. There’ll be nothing keeping me here.’

  no friends, no family, no future, Kiara understands. Her stomach churns at the realisation that unlike her, JJ didn’t spend a moment thinking about his answer. He’d had it prepared – he’d thought of it enough times to know it by heart. 

  They walk in silence, because what do you say when you realise your relationship with the person next to you has an expiration date and it’s approaching at a rapid speed?

  It was supposed to be a good evening. 

  Kiara wants to bump shoulders with him, brush his hand, give him any sign that would say i’m not gone yet, yet all she does is wrap her arms around herself. ‘You know we’re always going to be a team, right? The pogues are for life.’

  He chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Nah, that’s just a dream. We’re all going to move on, someday.’

  ‘Is that how you see us?’

  JJ looks at her and she has never, in her entire life, seen him so certain. ‘That’s the way it is.’

  They reach the end of the path and looking around saves Kiara from showing her reaction. She leads them toward the beach, through the trees with only the moon to shine their way, and hopes he won’t try to see her face in the darkness. 

  With her chest getting heavy and eyes teary, Kiara shoves those emotions in the back of her mind. 

  the pogues are forever, she thinks, even if i have to make you realise that.

  The tension between them isn’t like usual. It’s heavy with things they aren’t saying, loaded with emotions they’re both trying to hide; it’s a line there’s no uncrossing. 

  ‘Kie.’ JJ’s hand catches her arm and he waits until she turns to face him. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t care about you. I just—’ he stops himself and shakes his head, letting his hand fall to his side. ‘I don’t want to be disappointed. I need to keep myself in check. If I’m wrong, I’d – fuck, I’d give anything to be wrong about this.’

  She steps closer to him, wondering if her face is a book he can read word for word. Her hands longs to touch his, to give him the physical support she knows he needs, but she doesn’t let it. 

  Instead, she puts on what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and blinks the emotions away. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little hope.’

  ‘I can’t afford hope,’ he states. 

  ‘JJ—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ He takes a step back and Kiara feels the space between them like a blow to her chest. ‘We’re just kids, Kie. We’re not meant to be forever, or some shit like that. Hell, there’s shit about me that you wouldn’t even like if you knew. Right in front of your eyes and I’m pretending—’

  ‘Tell me, then,’ Kiara cuts him off. ‘I bet I’ll know it already.’

  He closes the same distance he’d previously put between them and they’re almost chest to chest, almost close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. 

  JJ has fire in his eyes, one that one he knows why it’s burning. ‘The kooks, I— I’m a hypocrite, Kie. I say I hate them when I really envy how fucking easy they have it. How one night with them when they think I’m one of them gives me more opportunities than I’ve had in the entire seventeen years of my life.’

  ‘That’s what this is about? Midsummers?’

  Something shuts in him and he steps away, further than before, walking towards the beach. Kiara catches up, falling in step with him. She doesn’t want him to run away from her and she isn’t going to let him. 

  ‘JJ, you can’t just do this.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He doesn’t stop walking, or slow down, and his strides are bigger than hers. 

  ‘Let me try.’

  He shakes his head; Kiara sees his fists curled as they swing at his sides, and reaches for one of them. The way his hand relaxes in his is instantaneous and instinctive, as if he were ice and she were fire. 

  JJ’s steps slow until they come to a halt. He leans his back against a tree without letting go of her hand; when he faces her, his eyes glimmer in the darkness. 

  ‘They kept mentioning my dad, and how good he’s always been with boats,’ he tells her. His voice begins rushed but calms to a steady pace, almost as if the words are hurting as they come out. ‘Then they started asking me questions about their boats, and I could guess what might be wrong with them and they thought it was amazing. They thought I had a gift.’ He pauses for a second; she hears him swallow. ‘In reality, I learnt boats because my dad would beat me if I didn’t recognise a boat he was fixing. I had to know all that shit because if I didn’t remember the horsepower, no one did, because he sure as hell couldn’t.’

  A shiver runs down her spine. JJ’s voice is distant but pained and she recognises it all too well. She doesn’t know what to say, so she gives his hand a squeeze and steps a little closer, enough to hold him if he needs her to. 

  He’s looking right through her. ‘I know boats because I had to. I always thought it was a curse, a burden, whatever. But they…’ JJ pauses, shakes his head, composes himself. ‘They saw someone who understands their boats like no one else. They gave me contacts of people who could use my expertise, offered me more jobs than I could take. And I saw my way out. I saw myself as one of them, eventually, with a nice three-piece, a fancy house, and someone else to take care of my shit.’

  Kiara’s eyes stare at his, waiting for them to come back into focus. He’s warm and trembling, and their hands are beginning to sweat, but she doesn’t let go. She watches him, his chest heaving, and waits for him to come back to her. 

  His thumb brushes her knuckles. JJ rests his head against the tree trunk, too, and closes his eyes for a few moments. 

  Now she understands why she recognised the way he’s been acting since they started the conversation – it’s the same distant, almost ethereal way he held himself that night during Midsummers, when he brought her out to the ocean. 

  Now there’s no waves to drown the silence. 

  ‘I hate it,’ he whispers. ‘I hate how much I liked their attention. I hate that I’ve been exchanging messages and emails and calls with some of them, arranging how I’d come take a look at their boats and yachts and whatever shit they’ve got parked in their private harbours.’

  ‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Kiara tells him, her voice hoarse. His eyes flutter then open, not seeing through her anymore. ‘I know you, JJ. I know why you’re saying this, and I get it. But you don’t have to hold onto those grudges anymore. People are shitty.’

  He laughs, dryly, but Kiara still considers it an improvement from what he was like only moments before. 

  She steps closer to him. ‘You understand boats in a way no one I know does, JJ. It might be because of your dad, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t use it. That it can’t bring you something good.’

  ‘It feels wrong.’

  ‘To want something better for yourself?’

  JJ nods, and Kiara’s heart shatters. ‘JJ, no. You’re not a hypocrite for realising the world doesn’t work the way you thought it does. There’s no good or bad people, right or wrong side of anything. That’s called growing up.’

  ‘Does being a grown up feel shitty?’

  It’s a light attempt at a joke, half-hearted and half-assed, and Kiara gives him a half-smile and a half-chuckle. ‘Yeah, based on everything I’ve heard.’

  ‘Ugh. Can’t wait.’

  Kiara tugs on his hand until he looks at her. She hesitates, for a moment, but then wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. There’s a moment in which she doesn’t know if she overstepped his boundaries, if this is something she shouldn’t have done, but then she feels his hands gentle on her back and she thinks it’s okay, i’ve got you.

  When they part, she ruffles his hair, just like she did before they went down to have dinner with her parents. She does that with a smile and to the question in his eyes, she says, ‘Can’t have you looking too sad.’

  JJ just sighs and pushes himself off the tree. ‘You’re so dramatic, Kie.’

  He gets back on the path and Kiara follows, navigating them through the woods. There’s a spring in his step that she didn’t even notice had been gone for a while, and she doesn’t comment on it. 

  ‘Says the one who just had a monologue that would put Hamlet to shame.’ 

  ‘Please,�� he says, ‘Shakespeare ain’t got nothing on me.’

  Kiara laughs and bumps his shoulder, causing both of them to almost lose balance at the touch. 

  JJ stabilises himself and looks at her. His eyes are wrinkled with mellowness to them, a faint smile tracing his lips. ‘Thanks,’ he says. 

  ‘Anytime. You’re my fake boyfriend, after all.’

  The words make him laugh just as they reach a clearing leading toward the open sea. The moon shines bright high up above them and he speeds up, almost running to water. 

  Kiara wonders if maybe she isn’t the only one who considers a place that makes people feel like this home. 

  JJ takes off his shoes and dips his toes into the water, watching her do the same. ‘You know, if pretending to be your boyfriend means I keep getting delicious food that’s also free, I’m down for doing it whenever. Seriously. This has been the highlight of my summer so far.’

  Stepping into the water until it’s above her ankles, Kiara frowns. 

  So far, this summer, they’ve had a road trip in John B’s van through the whole of North Carolina, thrown a few of the best keggers of their lives, nearly set the entire Chateau on fire amongst many other things. 

  So she just shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Mhm.’

  JJ’s hand touches the water and throws it in her direction, sprinkling her. She fakes a grunt and then he laughs with ease, with no heaviness in it, and she feels her own chest to be a little lighter, too. 

  Her hands are on his chest, pushing him backwards. ‘Well in that case, Mr. John, I’ve got a gig for you. My mom’s cousin is getting married at the end of August and I desperately need a chaperone.’

  He cocks his head to the side, a grin taking over his face. ‘Then you’ve got yourself one, Miss Kiara.’

  Then he reaches down with both hands and splashes her with water until she’s completely soaked and so is he and they’re laughing, and Kiara thinks that maybe there’s some hope for the pogues left in him, after all.

   ★

tagging. @jjmaybanky​​ @chasefreakinstokes​​ @drewstarkey​​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge​​ @outrbank​​ @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​​ @teamnick​​​ @jjmaybanksbaby​​​ @mahleeyuh​​​ @nicolewithasoul​​ @kiarawilliams127​​ @starlightstarkey​​ @anonymous0writer​​ @outerbongs​​ @warnettc​​ @jjandreidsgirl​​

[theunderdogwrites]

2020: The Year I Lost My Ass

Well, we reached the end of that toilet roll only to start another one, because that is what we do for as long as we are allowed to continue revolutions around the sun – we keep going.

2020 was a terrible year for so many. My brain is incapable of processing the number of losses suffered on a global scale. Be it jobs, security, rights, sanity, relationships or life. My brain is not just incapable of these calculations, it has plain refused to entertain those thoughts on behalf of my heart. My heart, that sensitive little blood pumping work horse who not once allows itself to stop. Thank goodness.

I don’t believe the majority of people are willing and able to bring themselves to fully comprehend what was lost in 2020.

Here is a list of a few more losses suffered last year:

- People lost their shit. And over the most ridiculous things like toilet paper, having to wear a mask to secure toilet paper and being held to the consequences resulting from not wearing a mask when asked to while attempting to purchase toilet paper. Pause for a moment and let that last sentence hang around in your mind. 2020 made that happen. I didn’t make it up! Recently I saw a news piece showing a man (40’s) lying down on the floor in a Costco to protest being asked to wear a mask. He spoke loudly, he beat his hands at his sides and wildly kicked his legs when an employee asked him to get up. Now, I am not judging for I too have participated in such behaviour MANY times. Granted I was three, but hey… some of us mature faster than others.

 - People lost their damn minds. 2020 should be dubbed “The Year of The Karen”. For those of you not in the know about the Karen phenomenon, here is a description courtesy of Urban Dictionary:

 “Karen is a pejorative term used in the United States and other English-speaking countries for a woman perceived as entitled or demanding beyond the scope of what is appropriate or necessary. A common stereotype is that of a white woman who uses her privilege to demand her own way at the expense of others.’

 Basically, a Karen is a I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER type person (There is a male equivalent, but it seems no one can agree on the name… Chad, Terry, Kyle, Kevin, Steve). You can often find a Karen on her cellphone calling the police to report a black man who lives in her neighborhood, simply living his life in her neighbourhood. I didn’t make that up either.

 More recently a Karen was videoed in a UPS store claiming that she didn’t have to wear a mask because that space was government property and not a private business. Would it be safe to say that most Karen types suffer from a lack of oxygen to their brain? Possibly. But that would involve science and Karen types DO NOT enjoy hard facts.

 As always when I download my thoughts into reality, I must go within and search myself. Am I a Karen? My immediate answer is: no fucking way. I can honestly say I’ve never once asked to see a manager or called the police to report someone eating their lunch on a park bench. I do not enjoy confrontation. Unless there is a bully involved. Then I will drag that person to hell with me. I much prefer discussion over going straight to the ‘I triple dog dare you!’ approach to the world. (If you got that reference, you are my new favourite) Because that is who a Karen really is… someone who jumps right to the most extreme action in order to satisfy their need to be superior. Truly, we should feel sorry for these people because instead of engaging they’re raging. And how awful must their insides feel… always full of anger, fear and self doubt. I say instead of judging these Karen types or putting them on blast on social media, we should hug the shit out of them. Just grab them and squeeze as hard as you fucking can until they stop talking. Peaceful solutions my friends, peaceful solutions.

 - Pets lost their faith in us. Children a close second. If you are a proud owner of a pet or a child, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’ve always operated under the notion that my cat loves it when I’m home and hates it when I leave. 2020 has taught me it might be the other way around. Because our animals are, well, animals we just believe our presence is the greatest gift in their lives. Remember when you were old enough to be left alone by your parents and once you had the taste of that kind of freedom, you just wanted more of it and couldn’t wait for them to go out? I feel it’s like that with our pets now. We might not think animals have a routine or preferences or enjoy some alone time, but we’d be wrong.

I think at first our pets were thrilled. If we are home more it means more time for prolonged petting, walks and the opportunity to ritualistically train us to respond to their caterwauls for more food and treats than normal. But then as the weeks of lockdown and working from home increased, so did our pets desire to kill us in our sleep.

 I’m pretty sure my cat has asked me several times using her feline glare: “why the fuck won’t you just leave?”. It would be naïve of us to assume we don’t disrupt their day with our constant noise making and snacking and scotch drinking that leads to a good buzz that leads to showing too much affection to our pets. To the point where they run and hide when they see us coming. Please tell me I didn’t describe just my own experience.

 There is such a thing as everything in moderation, we know this, so I think it can be applied here. People, get away from your pets. Give them the space you often desire from human beings. Because if you don’t, that random turd in your shoe could be pointing to a much larger, more alarming problem you’re about to encounter.

 I had the absolute blessing of being able to assist in caring for and raising of my three nephews (12,9,6) for the last 11 years. So, when I say: ‘children are always watching us’, I feel I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been mimicked so often by these young boys that I’ve had to pause due to mortification. Children will hold you accountable without even knowing it. I’ve had some behaviours of mine corrected by a 5-year-old and let me tell you, it stings like hell.

 As adults, when our world was thrown into turmoil because of Covid-19, we looked to our medical health professionals and our politicians for guidance. Basically, we searched for those who would lead us. The children – looked to us. And while many adults handled this responsibility the best they possibly could, many more failed miserably and displayed attitudes I can only describe as juvenile, damaging and pathetic. I suppose it doesn’t help if the people the adults are looking to for help are themselves - juvenile, damaging and pathetic.

 When I say we still have not grasped just how much has been lost over the past year, I’m hinting at integrity, compassion and creditability. Three vital qualities you’d hope people want to instill into their children. But if they themselves are unable to display such valuable traits, what does this say for the children who are looking up to them as an example on how to act when life gets challenging?

 For myself in 2020, I gained by losing.

When they locked our gyms down for four months last spring, I came close to being one of those people who lost their shit. While people were moaning about wearing a mask for 20 minutes in the grocery store, I was contemplating if murdering those people could be considered a cardio exercise and would that hold up in a court of law.

To reflect on that time period now (especially since our gyms are closed AGAIN at the moment) the loss of the gyms brought me the knowledge of how important the routine of going to and being in the gym is to my mental health. I won’t launch into how I feel about shopping malls being open and gyms being closed despite their proven benefit to one’s overall health because then I really will lose my shit.

People always say getting to the gym is the hardest part and once they’re there it’s easy to workout. And for many that is the truth, but for me it’s all a part of the workout. Getting to the gym is the psychological effort. Putting in the work at the gym is the physical. You can’t have one without the other. I became so pathetic that I’d often walk to the closed gym from my house, stare at the closed doors and then walk home. 1.5 hour round trip. True story.

Remember a few years back everyone became obsessed with that Netflix show ‘Tidying Up with Marie Kondo’? It is the show where that lovely woman from Japan showed us all how to declutter our homes by getting rid of anything that didn’t bring us joy. Those acid wash jeans from 1989… sit with them… hold them close to your chest… if they don’t make you happy, remove them from your space. Well, the same idea can be applied to people and ideas and even feelings. And 2020 was a great year for simplifying our lives. I’ve heard so many people talk about how they can’t wait to get back to ‘normal’… not me. I’ve already started my ‘new normal’.

The loss of drama has gained me peace and a better understanding of the importance of remaining true to who I am instead of trying to please others in hopes it wins me points. Because it doesn’t. Because its inauthentic and only brings you more loss and more drama. And anxiety. And sleepless nights. And an overall sense of hatred for everyone. 2020 gave me the option to no longer care about the things that don’t make me happy and to embrace the process of letting all that stupid bullshit fade away.

It was a year of gained focus.

It was a year of gained appreciation.

It was a year of gained gratitude.

It was a year of gained love for myself.

 I’m going to leave you now, but not before I share one of my favorite songs by the Tragically Hip:

In A World Possessed by The Human Mind

Just give me the news

It can all be lies

Exciting over fair or the right thing at the right time

Everything is clear

Just how you described

The way it appears, "A world possessed by the human mind"

 Then I think I smiled

Then I think you said, "it's fine"

And quietly I dressed, in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 We're in awe of no one

We've none of their fear

Fighting's goin' nowhere and we stay right here

Where everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

"In the shadow of the law and with colours of justice"

 Then I hope I smiled

Then I'm sure you said, "It's fine"

They got no interest in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

Quiet enough to hear God rustlin' around in the bushes

Oh, but it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

 Then I hope I laughed

Then I hope I said, "it's fine"

And quietly undressed in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Oh it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgXphurrsE0

[badacts]

fake plant, real love

for the ‘clint/bucky’ square for @clintbartonbingo. based on this excellent post

The plant was a gift from Natasha in lieu of a real plant - she’d handed it over with an off-colour joke about Bucky barely being able to keep himself alive, which had made Steve frown, but they all know that plants are a pain in the ass when you travel as much as they do. Also, she’s not wrong.

It’s an expensive one, because it looks extremely real right down to the fake dirt in the pot. It’s a deep green, a bright spot of colour in his spartan, off-white rooms. Bucky sets it on the window sill and promptly forgets about it.

Things change, and keep changing. Bucky somehow ends up with Clint Barton in his bed, which progresses to Clint Barton very quietly moving himself in like he thinks Bucky might not notice if he’s subtle about it. Bucky’s personally pretty keen on Clint being there - in his bed, in his kitchen (barely awake), on his couch at the end of their longest days - so he just makes space for Clint where necessary and leaves him to it.

They fit together. Clint is kind of untidy, but Bucky, who is fastidious by nurture - or the opposite of it - rather than by nature, mostly finds it kind of comforting to see the trail of mess Clint leaves in his wake. It makes his place...homely. Clint seems to benefit from Bucky’s ability to make him coffee and therefore turn him into a functioning human being each morning. And they’re both, in their most vulnerable moments, not made to be alone. Being together, the two of them, is better.

They’re also good at the division of labour involved in keeping an apartment. Bucky cooks, Clint does laundry, Bucky does the vacuuming, Clint takes out the trash.

“And I water the plant,” Clint says, gesturing to said plant. The fake plant, that is.

Bucky opens his mouth, about to tell him, or call him an idiot, or maybe just ask whether fake plants can survive long term exposure to water.

“This,” Clint says first, “Is the only plant I’ve never killed.” His smile is the genuine, gentle one Bucky loves, crinkling the skin around his eyes with affection.

Okay. Bucky can never, ever tell him that it’s not a real plant.

The plant seems to suffer no ill consequences from Clint’s religious weekly waterings. Bucky contemplates ordering an actual real plant to set him loose on, but he can’t bring himself to do it in case Clint either kills it or realises that he’s currently caring for a fake.

The thing about relationships that no one likes to talk about: sometimes lies by omission are absolutely fuckin’ necessary.

In all other aspects, things are good. Better than, maybe. Bucky, for whom things have been bad, or worse than, for so long, it’s kind of a wild experience. He’d thought the improvements might end with Steve crashing into his life and turning him back into a real boy just with the pure force of his existence, that he’d end up just being alive and barely surviving the things he’s done and trying, pointlessly, to erase them, but no.

Somehow, Clint never learned any of the lessons about accepting his lot in life that assholes tried to teach him. He still wants for better, because of and in spite of himself, and he’s taking Bucky along with him.

Bucky’s in love with him. Like, a lot. And never more so than when he wakes up, warm and easy, to Clint’s gentle snoring - he blames his several-times-broken nose, but Bucky’s more inclined to blame how he sleeps on his goddamned back in a starfish-sprawl - and his heavy arm cradling Bucky close.

Bucky had gone to bed first last night, waking only briefly when Clint had stumbled in later, mumbling reassurance to Bucky in his hoarse late-night voice. Now he’s still crashed out, lashes shadowing his cheeks.

Bucky wriggles out from under his arm, not as careful as he used to be. Clint won’t sleep long after Bucky gets up, for all he might want to, so there’s not much point. He does take a second to watch Clint’s brow furrowing as he registers the loss before he rolls into Bucky’s space on the mattress, grunting something indecipherable.

The sensation in Bucky’s chest is un-fucking-imaginably sweet. It’s ridiculous that he gets to feel like this, but he won’t give it up for anything or anyone.

He pulls on a shirt off the top of the dresser, hiking up his sweatpants on the way to the coffee machine. He’s partially obstructed by a redheaded figure reading in his kitchen.

“Are you trying to expand your housewifery skills?” He asks, fingering the corner of her home design magazine.

“I can already do laundry and kill people,” she replies without looking up. “What more do I need?”

“You’re right. Nothing at all,” Bucky says. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

Bucky gets the machine set up and running, and then digs out three mugs and some creamer and sugar. Nat is all companionable silence besides the occasional fluttering of a turning page. Bucky hums a little to himself as he works, waiting her out.

He’s rewarded, eventually: the little spider is impossibly patient, right up until she doesn’t want to be.

“I need to go to Moscow,” she says in Russian, accepting a mug from him and cupping it between her hands. When she looks up at him, he notes that she has a bruise just coming up on her cheekbone.

“Need to, or want to?” Bucky asks, leaving Clint’s mug on the bench and bringing his own over to sit across from Nat.

“Both,” she replies immediately. “Neither. Will you come?”

“If you need me,” he says, “Or want me.”

“FOUR MONTHS,” Clint barks from down the hallway. Nat jerks, her mug skidding against the benchtop.

The bedroom door slams open. Clint looks flustered - as usual, first thing in the morning - and kind of pissed. “Four fucking months, Bucky!”

“What are you talking about,” Nat says, fixing Clint with a cool look that tells him exactly what she thinks of him yelling at this hour of the morning.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bucky says, not because he knows what this is about, but because he knows when Clint is really, properly angry, and this isn’t it.

“You watched me water a fake plant for FOUR MONTHS,” Clint says, ignoring Nat entirely.

Ah, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s acutely aware that Nat is now looking at him instead.

“There are starving children in Africa with no water,” Clint continues, as though that is at all relevant to him and a fake pot plant.

Nat, without looking away from Bucky, says to him, “Your codename is ‘Hawkeye’, and you can’t distinguish between a real plant and an artificial one? How are you even still alive?”

Clint opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “How would not being able to do that possibly present a real risk to my life?”

“Traps,” Nat says immediately.

“If you can name me one time you’ve encountered a trap involving fake plants-”

“Morocco,” Nat says. “Bolivia, with the cartel. Montreal. That fake cactus in the bathroom of a mob restaurant.”

“What were they hiding in a cactus?” Bucky has to ask.

“It was a person dressed as a cactus.”

“There was a dude hiding in the women’s bathroom dressed as a cactus?” Clint demands.

“It was the men’s.”

“That sounds more seedy than actually life-endangering.”

“He had a knife.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Clint tells her, and then levels a glare at Bucky. “Seriously?”

“You liked it,” Bucky says, helplessly and absolutely without meaning to.

Nat laughs. Clint blushes, his glare wavering. “What?”

Bucky shrugs. “You weren’t hurtin’ anyone.”

“I wasn’t exactly helping, either!”

“You liked it,” Bucky repeats. “Doing it made you happy. Not really seeing a downside here, sugar.”

Natasha, who generally isn’t here with just the two of them, and who Bucky had momentarily forgotten about, looks Bucky in the face and mouths sugar with a hilarious expression on her face.

“We could always try a real plant,” Bucky suggests. “Seein’ as you’ve been practising and all.”

“Practising for having kids,” Nat adds right as Clint takes a sullen sip of his coffee. He chokes.

“Jesus, Romanoff!” He sputters.

“I thought a dog might be better to start with.” Bucky can’t resist piling on, enjoying the way Clint has gone bright red. Also, he ain’t cut out for raising children, but he thinks a dog might be okay.

“I hate both of you,” Clint says once he’s got his breath back, but he doesn’t mean it - the humour is pushing at his annoyance, about to break it apart. Sleep-ruffled and trying not to laugh and caught in the light from the window, he’s really something.

Yeah. Bucky could have a dog with this guy. Bucky could do a lot of things with this guy.

[gamerwoo]

Yuto: (Mis)Understood

Characters: Yuto x gender neutral reader (featuring Jinho)

Genre/warnings: hybrid au, angst, fluff, instances of abuse

Word count: 6,331

a/n: if you’ve seen Kitbull, it’s literally that but with Yuto (also I couldn’t think of a good summary so......I didn’t make one dsjkfhdsk)

-

It wasn’t odd to find a hybrid or two sleeping in the subway or on park benches. You, however, chose to hide away alone because you didn’t trust anybody. Your ‘home’ was a large cardboard box that was tipped over so you’d have something to lay on that wasn’t the ground, and a makeshift roof over your head. It was located behind an abandoned warehouse which meant you got as much solitude as you wanted after a long day of trying to find food to keep yourself alive.

Luckily, there was a little flower shop owner that seemed to be fond of you. You weren’t sure of his name but he had a warm smile and always left a tuna sandwich for you because he knew you frequented that part of the city. He had tried to get you to go near him a few times but you always kept your distance, not trusting anybody since you were abandoned. Still, he never gave up but he was patient.

So with your tuna sandwich wrapped in clear wrap in hand, you avoided the public as much as you could before agiley hopping a fence to get back to the place you called home. Once you were sitting inside you box, you unwrapped the sandwich and ate silently as you enjoyed the warm afternoon. By the time you were done, you laid down and wrapped your tail around your body to doze off for a little bit.

-

You woke up to a loud crash. You jolted up, eyes wide before you were tugging the blanket that hung over your little ‘home’ further down to cover the opening. Then you slowly moved a little of the fabric aside to peek outside and see what was happening.

Two men were dropping a very large crate onto the pavement. It looked like a dog crate made of wood and with a door with metal fencing in it, but you weren’t sure what kind of dog was big enough for the crate to house it.

Appearing from the back doors of the warehouse was a man, followed by a hybrid that appeared to be a dog. He had tanned skin and dark hair with a face that just looked terrifying from how his expression rested. He wore a tight black t-shirt, and black jeans that were ripped at the knees. He had a thick, black, leather collar around his neck with a large hoop in the front. You’d never really seen a hybrid that was forced to wear a collar, but you knew each owner had a preference.

“Place is perfect for fighting,” one of the three men commented in a gruff voice. “Nobody’s gonna bother us here.”

“Just gotta move the crates around a bit,” the man that had come out with the hybrid nodded. “Maybe we’ll find something valuable in them.”

“Better get to work before tomorrow night,” the third man commented with a chuckle before following the first man inside.

“Right,” the man with the hybrid nodded before he turned to the hybrid, pointing toward the crate. “You stay out here. Don’t go anywhere, got it?”

The hybrid nodded before replying in a deep voice, “Understood.”

He even sounded scary. You didn’t like it.

The three men disappeared into the warehouse before the heavy doors closed, leaving the hybrid outside alone with you -- though he still didn’t seem aware of your presence.

He walked slowly around the area, looking and sniffing around with his hands shoved in his pockets. When the street light would hit him just right, you could see scars on his arms, and even one on his face just at the peak of his right cheekbone. 

You weren’t sure what kind of fighting those men were talking about, but you were sure this hybrid was involved in it in some way.

In your fascination with this new hybrid, you let your hand push the blanket out of the way a little too much. You let your face poke out a little too far. So the dog’s eyes suddenly peered in your direction toward the shadows, narrowing as he made out the features of another hybrid.

In excitement, his ears perked up as his tail started to wag. He hadn’t seen another hybrid outside fighting in months.

He started walking toward you, and you quickly dropped the blanket and tucked yourself away into the farthest corners of the box, barely letting out a scared squeak. But the hybrid kept walking forward until you could hear him sniffing outside your makeshift home, his fingers reaching up to brush against the blanket to find the corner.

You hissed, reaching out to swipe at him. Lucky for him, his hand retracted before you could scratch him.

“H-hello…?” his voice was soft, but still that deep tone that terrified you. “I won’t hurt you. My name’s Yuto…”

You didn’t care if he insisted he was friendly. The flower shop owner said the same thing but you didn’t trust him, either. It didn’t matter if people insisted they wouldn’t hurt you. In your experience, they would still hurt you and leave you anyway. So you ignored the dog hybrid called Yuto.

Normally, Yuto wouldn’t go talking to strangers. He liked to keep to himself, not only because he was shy, but also because he was afraid of the consequences if he got caught. But he knew his owner and his friends were too busy with getting their new arena ready that he wouldn’t be noticed.

“Do you have a name?” he wondered, his voice still quiet so he could seem less menacing.

Suddenly, the doors were shoved open, slamming against the sides of the building. Yuto tensed, turning to see the dark silhouette of his owner.

“Yuto!” he barked. “What the fuck did I tell you?”

“I-’m sorry,” Yuto stammered, quickly scrambling back over to the area he was told to stay in.

“C’mere,” the man growled, grabbing Yuto by the hoop on his collar and yanking him forward. The man reached down onto the wooden steps and grabbed a heavy chain before linking one end to Yuto’s neck. Yuto coughed as the weight suddenly pulled on his neck as the man went to tie the other end to the faucet on the side of the warehouse. “Now you can’t go wandering off. Stay. Put. Don’t piss me off.”

Yuto nodded, staying perfectly still, “Understood.”

The man stomped back up the few stairs before he went back into the warehouse, slamming the doors closed again. Yuto wasn’t sure how he was found out, but he learned his lesson -- for now.

As Yuto went to go into his crate, he turned and looked back at the box he found you in. Then, he disappeared into the wooden structure for the night.

-

The plan was to sneak out before Yuto was awake and would notice you. He was asleep when you woke up, so you figured you could get out and find some food before coming home later when Yuto would hopefully be inside the warehouse with his owner or asleep again. Currently, he was fast asleep with the door to his crate open, his head right at the opening and one of his arms hanging out and onto the pavement. So you carefully tossed the fabric of the blanket upward before crawling out of the box to make your escape.

You made it to the fence, ready to climb up it and make your way over. However, you pushed off the ground with one foot and gripped the side of the fence, your foot that was now hanging off the fence hitting something as you tried to swing it up and over. A small pile of garbage slid down toward the ground, and you cringed at the noise. You hopped down and hid behind another pile of rubble, checking to see if Yuto woke up. Thankfully, the slide was only minor, so it was nothing too loud.

Your eyes moved toward the garbage that had fallen. You saw something that looked oddly brightly colored, so you decided to slink over and see what it was, your eyes flashing over to Yuto’s sleeping form every now and again to make sure he was still asleep.

On the ground in the trash was a brightly colored bouncy ball. It had swirls of pink and green and blue, and it reminded you of your favorite toy from when you were with your old owner. You always were a sucker for bouncy balls because they could keep you entertained when you were left alone. But you hadn’t played with one in so long…

You knelt down on the ground, picking up the ball before lightly bouncing it on the ground to test its bounce. When it bounced perfectly and landed back in your hand, you tail twitched slightly with interest. So you bounced it harder, watching it bounce higher than your head before you caught it perfectly in your hand again.

Your pupils widened.

The next few minutes were spent completely distracted, bouncing the ball off of the pavement, tossing it in the air while you were laying on your back, and batting it around. You had completely forgotten your plan to leave before Yuto woke up, but he hadn’t stirred anyway, so you were free to play as you pleased. As you were laying on your back, tossing the ball in the air, the ball missed your hand and hit your fingertips, bouncing onto the pavement by the top of your head before it started bouncing away.

“No,” you whined quietly, rolling onto your stomach to get up and go after it.

You crawled forward once before you saw where it was headed, bouncing and bouncing until it was only going a few inches off the ground. It hit Yuto’s hand before it stopped bouncing, rolling a few feet away before stopping.

Your eyes widened seeing Yuto stir. Then you were trying to scramble to hide somewhere.

Yuto’s eyes had opened before you could hide. Truthfully, he wasn’t completely asleep anymore considering the noise of the ball and the excited little giggles coming from your mouth. But he didn’t want to get up and scare you back into hiding, so he kept his eyes closed and just listened.

But feeling the ball hit him, his eyes opened in time to see you hurrying to hide behind some trash before he looked down at the ball. He could’ve taken it for himself to pass time since he was equally as bored as you probably were, but if he was honest...he was hoping he could maybe play with you.

So he rolled the ball back in your direction.

You were huddled down behind a pile of rubble as you saw the colorful ball roll by you. Your eyes followed, ears perking as your tail twitched. You lunged at the ball before you were back to giggling and tossing it to get it to bounce. But the short moment of happiness was stopped when you heard a soft, deep chuckle. Yuto was standing now, halfway between your space and his crate. You didn’t even realize how huge he was until he was standing closer to you, and you were sitting down on the ground. But not only was he tall, he was broad.

Your claws started to extend as you frowned at him, the hair on your arms and the back of your neck standing up.

“Go away…” you mumbled, trying to sound scary.

You didn’t. Not at all.

Yuto lowered his head as he took a cautious step forward, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanna--”

He stopped as the chain pulled on his neck. He frowned as he turned to see that this was as far as he could go, a soft whine sounding in his chest.

You, however, realized this meant safety. Yuto couldn’t come near you, and you could play with your ball as much as you wanted without being bothered.

Realizing he couldn’t do much of anything, Yuto wandered back to his crate. He sat down at the opening, arms on his knees as he just watched you bounce the ball around by yourself. At least watching you have fun was sort of entertaining. He wanted to try to talk to you, but it was clear you didn’t want that, either.

Suddenly, the ball slipped from your fingertips, rolling toward Yuto again. Both of you watched as it rolled until it hit his foot, and then the two of you made eye contact.

Quickly you turned away from Yuto. You knew he still could speak to you, but you figured if you looked away, he’d get the message.

Feeling something hit your tail, you gasped and jumped away from the object, landing clumsily on your side. Your gaze moved until you saw the ball in front of you, pupils widening once again.

You pushed yourself to sit up, and Yuto could see your tail laying beside you, twitching with excitement. His eyebrows raised as he watched you bat the toy around, smirking to himself. You were pretty easily amused -- then again, you were a cat hybrid. The small, brightly-colored toy seemed to be stimulating you too much as you rolled around on the ground, so wrapped up in the toy that you all but forgot Yuto’s existence. You didn’t even notice him scoot toward you again, sitting criss-cross on the ground as he watched you sit there for a moment without moving before bouncing the ball as high as you could and catching it again.

You bounced it again, only this time, it went into the air and bounced in front of Yuto’s legs before he caught it like an automatic response. His gaze moved to meet yours, seeing your wide eyes on the ball and your tail swaying, ready to catch the ball again. Almost like you bounced it to him on purpose.

“Do...d-do you want me to bounce it back?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, “Uh huh.”

Your voice was still quiet, but it was something. So he smiled a little and bounced the ball back toward you. You giggled as you fell back on your back, catching the ball between both hands. You sat back up and bounced it back to him again.

“You’re pretty excited over a ball,” he chuckled, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he looked over it. He assumed there must’ve been some kind of catnip or something in it to make you go crazy over it.

“You’re a dog,” you commented, slightly louder than you’d been speaking to him, “don’t you like balls too?”

Yuto shrugged before bouncing the ball back to you, “Never played with one.”

“What?” you asked sharply as you caught the ball without even looking. “What have you played with?”

You bounced the ball back to him before he answered, “Nothing.”

Bounce.

“Nothing?”

Bounce.

“Nope.”

Bounce.

“...Oh…”

You’d never met a hybrid that didn’t ever get to play with toys. You wondered what exactly Yuto did for fun, then -- even though his owner hadn’t even come to check on him since chaining him up last night. Did Yuto even have fun?

“But,” he spoke up, noticing how your brows furrowed and your face fell, “this is fun! I kinda like playing.”

When you looked at Yuto, his pointed ears were perked up straight as his tail bounced on the pavement. He did seem like he was having fun.

“Really?” you asked, your voice quiet again as you bounced the ball back to him. “So...Y-Yuto...what do you do?”

“I--”

Yuto stopped before he could even say anything else, ears twitching toward a sound he heard off in the corner of the property. He knew it was somebody walking around, but he wasn’t sure of who. Still, from his experience, he didn’t like human strangers. So he let out a low warning growl that had your eyes widening -- this time in fear rather than excitement.

Quickly, you made yourself scarce. But instead of scrambling to hide in your box, you leaped up to the fence and went over it before you ran quickly away from the property, hoping to find Yuto asleep when you returned.

Yuto watched you go with a frown, unable to even get out an apology or a reassurance before you were over the fence and bolting away from him.

-

“Harder.”

Yuto’s jaw set as he pulled his arm back and threw it forward with full force, punching the dummy in front of him.

His owner barked, “Harder!”

Yuto was used to the harsh training, but it didn’t mean it ever got any easier. His owner always seemed to expect more than he could give, but it took a good few tries before he would finally be satisfied and would give Yuto the praise he was looking for. Even if he did get hurt and hate that he was hurting other hybrids, Yuto wanted nothing more than to please his owner.

“C’mon, you can do better than that!” his owner egged him on.

Yuto snarled, lunging at the dummy and latching his teeth onto the head of it before ripping it off of its body. As he spat it onto the ground while stuffing drifted onto the pavement, his owner clapped and gave a pleased laugh.

“Good job, Yuto,” he praised as he pat the hybrid’s shoulder, glancing up at the sun that was almost completely set now. “Be ready in a couple more hours.”

“Understood,” Yuto nodded with a tired but proud smile on his face, watching as his owner walked up the small set of stairs before retreating back into the warehouse.

As Yuto went back into his crate to rest, he didn’t notice you watching through the fence, hair standing up on your body in horror. Yuto was a lot more frightening than you thought, so you decided to wait until he was either asleep or gone into the warehouse to return back home that night.

-

You weren’t asleep yet because of the rain and thunder, so you clearly heard the back doors to the warehouse open before you heard what sounded like dead weight get rolled down the wooden stairs. You decided to sneak a peek outside, slowly pushing the blanket away just in time to see the light from inside the building disappear as the doors slammed shut. But in the floodlights outside the door, you could see a dark mass laying in a puddle at the bottom of the steps.

Slowly, the figure lifted its head as a soft whine was heard, and you realized that figure was Yuto. He sat up, his whines growing in volume as he pushed himself to stand up, only to fall on one knee on the stairs. Viewing him from the back, he seemed to be cradling his right arm to his chest, but both arms were covered in red slashes that you could clearly see because of the tank top he was wearing.

Despite wanting to apologize, Yuto knew better than to go to the door and try to get back in. If he did that, he’d get worse from his owner than he did from his competitor. So he just let out loud whines he couldn’t stop as he collected himself and limped toward his crate.

You wanted to just mind your business. Yuto was terrifying enough as it is, and he could rip your head off if he wanted to. Catching him at a bad time like this was the last thing you wanted, so you let your blanket fall back to cover the opening of the box before curling up and trying to go to sleep for the night.

As Yuto managed to make his way back to his home, he looked over toward your makeshift shelter just in time to see the peak of a pile of garbage slide down from being slick with water, and land on top of your box. Not only did it crush your home, but it crushed you inside of it.

Yuto heard your soft cry of shock and slight pain before he started to limp toward you.

With your box now crushed in on you, you tried your best to find your way out. But there was too much weight and it was almost impossible for you to claw your way out.

Somehow, though, the weight started to get lighter, and you couldn’t tell if you felt relieved or more panicked.

With his good hand, Yuto cleared off the rubble to get to you. And when it was all cleared away, he reached inside to push up the top of the box so you could get out.

As soon as you looked over and saw the person in the opening of the box, your immediate reaction was to protect yourself -- even if you did register that it was Yuto. You remembered what you saw that evening. Yuto was still dangerous, wasn’t he?

Your claws connected with his face, scratching the right side of his face as you let out a warning hiss. His head turned to the left as he pulled away, and he let out a whimper from the stinging pain as his eyes squeezed shut. He was used to this treatment, but it didn’t mean it was any less painful.

His eyes opened and he turned to look at you with a whine as the cool air stung his new wound on his face, his brown eyes meeting your wide and fearful ones. He noticed how the hair on your arms, ears, and tail were standing up, your claws still out as you shook with fear. And then you quickly snatched your blanket and covered yourself in it in an attempt to hide from him, rolling over to face away from him on your side.

Yuto let out a defeated whine as he left you alone, limping back to his crate. His retreat was noisy so you knew when he was far enough away from you. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, seeing Yuto’s head down as he limped up to the crate and got down to crawl inside, whining and whimpering the whole time. He had realized that no matter what he did, he would be seen as bad. He was just one of those breeds that was bad no matter what they did. Anybody would look at him and be afraid because he looked scary and he did scary things, but that wasn’t his fault. But nobody knew that.

Something inside you felt bad as you watched Yuto curl up in the darkness of his crate, but you weren’t sure why.

-

His owner didn’t come out again that night, but neither did Yuto -- or you. You couldn’t sleep right. You just felt...bad. You could hear Yuto whining with almost every breath he let out and it broke your heart. You’d dozed off a few times but you couldn’t properly get to sleep. So when the sky just barely started to get lighter, you ventured out of your shelter to see if you could figure out what to do.

You were still afraid of Yuto, so you decided to use the ball. Yuto said he had fun with it, so you thought maybe bouncing it would get his attention. So you did, catching it in your hand before looking over to Yuto’s crate where the door was still open.

Nothing.

You thought maybe rolling it into his crate would get his attention. But when the ball hit the wood and Yuto didn’t move or make any noise of recognition, you realized that wasn’t going to work.

Your ears flattened down as you looked over at his crate. Was he even okay? Was this because of you? Did you hurt him that badly? Or was it whatever happened in that warehouse?

You got to your feet before slowly and cautiously making your way over to the crate, your eyes glancing toward the door every now and again to make sure his owner wasn’t going to come out anytime soon. When you got to the open door, you crouched down and peered inside.

“...Y-Yuto…?” you asked softly.

Yuto curled in on himself where he was sitting up in the corner, knees to his chest and his profile visible to you. But he looked away with a quiet warning growl that had you shrinking back with terrified eyes. He turned until his side was leaning against the side of the crate, his back toward you know as he faced the back wall.

For a moment, you second guessed yourself. Maybe it was best for you to just go back to your box and stay put. Maybe it was best to leave Yuto alone unless you wanted to become dog food.

And you did turn to leave.

But you paused. You remembered the day where you played with the bouncy ball with Yuto in the sun. You remembered how he never played with toys and how he said he liked playing with you. You remembered how he watched you play alone, still looking just as amused.

You turned back to the crate with a deep breath for courage before you crawled into the space. Yuto didn’t move or make any noise to acknowledge you were there. He just kept whimpering from the pain in his arm, his ankle, and all of the scratches and bruises on his body. You didn’t even notice how properly beat up he was last night, but now you were so close to him that the wounds were hard to miss.

You sat down with your back against the opposite wall, just looking at Yuto as he averted his eyes to the direction opposite of you. 

“Yuto…?” you tried again.

He didn’t growl at you this time, but he didn’t reply to you, either. He didn’t move or react at all.

Your eyes locked onto the scratches you left on his face. They weren’t bleeding anymore but they had a little bit, red blood having been swiped across his skin. You frowned, letting out an involuntary whine of your own.

“I’m sorry, Yuto,” you whispered, sitting up on your knees to lean closer to him, putting a hand on the floor between you and him. When he didn’t move or growl at you, you crawled closer to him and put a hand under his chin, trying to get a better view of the wound you’d left. “Y-Yuto…?”

“Are you that afraid of me?” he asked, the suddenness of his voice make you jump back just the slightest despite the fact his voice was just barely above a whisper.

You let out a small, sad huff, “Yuto, I’m so sorry…”

“I’m not bad,” he insisted in a broken tone, turning his head to look at you with sad eyes, “I promise. I wasn’t going to hurt you -- ever.”

“I know…” you whispered, feeling the need to hug him in an attempt to comfort him and show him that you really were sorry. “I’m sorry.”

Feeling you cuddle up to him was something Yuto couldn’t resist. It was rare he was shown the smallest forms of affection, but never was he shown affection like this. He turned his body again so his back was against the side, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer. He smiled softly hearing you purr as you snuggled into his warmth, physical affection being something you also hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll forgive you,” he mumbled in his deep voice that you used to find menacing, “if you tell me your name.”

You laughed softly, your eyes closing. You were so relaxed that you were finally feeling sleep come to take you for real this time. Not just for a few minutes before you woke up again.

“It’s _____.”

“I like it.”

Things fell silent between the two of you, but you were both pretty tired. You quickly fell asleep, purring so loud that it almost drowned out the soft thumps of Yuto’s tail wagging and hitting the floor.

-

“_____,” you heard a harsh whisper. Then you felt your shoulder being shaken. “_____!”

You lifted your head, blinking your eyes to try to get the sleep out of them. But you were being pushed out of the opening to the crate before you could even register what was happening.

“W-what?” you mumbled sleepily.

And then you heard the locks on the door to the warehouse being opened.

“You have to go!” Yuto insisted, still whispering. “If he finds out you’re here--”

“No,” you stopped, digging your heels into the ground when you got to the edge of the crate. You turned your head to look at Yuto, “he’ll hurt you again, too.”

“I’m used to it, _____,” he shrugged. “You have to go.”

He pushed you to your feet so you turned and tugged on his hand -- his good one, “Then you have to come with me.”

“_____--”

“I’m not going to leave you here, he’ll hurt you more!”

More locks were being undone from the inside. You knew there wasn’t much time.

“Yuto!” you begged in a soft whine.

Yuto glanced at the door before cursing under his breath. He stood up only to stumble from his bum ankle. You were quick to help support him, walking him over to the fence.

“I’ll boost you,” you told him.

“No, you have to--”

“Yuto, now!” you said urgently, trying to keep your voice down.

Yuto gripped the chains of the fence before putting his good leg up to climb the fence. You supported under his arms before pushing him up by his butt. When he managed to swing his leg over, you began to climb up like you always had so you could help Yuto down on the other side.

The door burst open just as you made your escape down the alley and out to the street.

-

Jinho went outside for his fifteen minute break, looking around for you as he often did. He knew you frequented the streets around this time, looking for something to eat, and as always, he had a sandwich and a hope that you’d maybe stop and talk to him this time.

Just as expected, you were walking down the sidewalk, your head kept low as you tried to avoid the bodies of the humans around you.

“Hey!” Jinho’s familiar, cheery voice pulled your head up. You saw him smiling from his storefront, holding a tuna sandwich up for you to see. “Lunch?”

You walked over to him like you always did, glad that his store was a little sunken into the strip so you could get away from the small crowd of people. You walked up timidly like you always did, but Jinho was always patient. But he was surprised to see somebody else walking behind you, shadowing your every step. A large man that seemed to be some sort of dog hybrid kept his eyes on the ground as he stopped behind you, his face and arms clearly beat up.

Jinho was definitely wary of this new hybrid, but he still walked up to put the wrapped sandwich on the sidewalk before he backed up to give you your space.

You walked forward to take the sandwich -- Yuto staying where he was because he could feel Jinho’s eyes watching his every move now -- but instead of just picking it up and scurrying away, you sat down right there and unwrapped the sandwich.

“Here,” you said, turning to hand one of the cut triangle halves up to Yuto.

Yuto walked forward, timidly glancing up at Jinho before he sat himself very ungracefully on the pavement beside you, taking the sandwich, mumbling a thank you to you. Then he looked up at the flower shop owner, “Thank you…”

Jinho was surprised that your gaze looked up to meet his, too, with a slightly clearer thank you than the dog’s.

Jinho crouched down where he was, sitting on the balls of his feet.

“You look worse than usual,” he noted, his voice soft. Then he offered his same, warm smile as his eyes went to Yuto who he gathered was somebody you were familiar with, “and you made a friend.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing the bite that was in your mouth before speaking, “I’m sorry for...never talking to you. I didn’t...trust people.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you,” Jinho shrugged. “But...would you trust me enough to at least get the two of you looked at? Especially him, he looks really rough. He was limping on his way over here.”

Your eyes widened as Yuto quickly shook his head.

“That would cost a lot, and we couldn’t pay you back,” you told him. “We’ll be fine.”

“Well, then…” Jinho began slowly, “what if I adopted you?”

You gaped at the flower shop owner. Did he really want to adopt you? Why? You hadn’t spoken to him until today. What could’ve compelled him to want to suddenly take in a hybrid off the street?

But none of those questions or answers to those questions mattered.

“I’m sorry...b-but no,” you replied. “I can’t leave Yuto…”

Jinho wasn’t stupid. He knew about the hybrid fighting rings going around, and it was clear Yuto came from one considering the harsh appearance and the collar. He knew Yuto had been through rough events, but he could also see Yuto was still a good hybrid. He was good enough to get you to open up to him, and he was good enough to stick by your side -- despite how stubborn you clearly were since you wanted nothing to do with Jinho before.

But with you, Jinho had wanted to adopt you since the first day you let him give you food. The way your ears twitched and your eyes looked up at him had him completely sold. You were just so cute and innocent and he wanted to take care of you and give you a better life.

He wanted to give you both better lives.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to adopt him, too,” he laughed softly. He stood up before either of you could even comprehend what he was implying. “Let’s get the two of you inside. Those cuts should get cleaned up.”

Jinho helped Yuto to his feet before supporting his weight to get him into the shop. You followed behind them, unable to hide the smile on your face.

-

Bonus [2 months later]:

“Guys, I’m home!”

Your ears perked up before you rolled off of Yuto’s chest, landing on your hands and knees on the carpet before you were getting up and running to the door. Yuto followed behind you, laughing at your technique of getting up.

“How was work?” you asked, greeting Jinho as he kicked his shoes off by the door.

“Not too busy but not too slow,” he replied, looking between you and the pitbull hybrid beside you. “Hungry?”

Yuto nodded while you shrugged. Yuto could eat everything while you typically didn’t get too hungry until it was meal time.

Jinho chuckled as he started toward the kitchen, both of you following behind him -- Yuto’s tail wagging and hitting yours as it did. When Jinho reached the kitchen and began taking things out to prep the meal, he laughed seeing both of you still following in step.

“You guys can go wait in the living room,” he informed you.

You shrugged, “We missed you.”

Yuto nodded in agreement before letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

While Yuto was fully healed -- physically -- he was a pretty quiet person. He didn’t ask for affection, but he melted into it when it was shown. But when it came to you, he touched you and cuddled up to you as he pleased. You didn’t mind it, though. From the purrs that you let out, one could assume you liked it, even.

You, however, had become very affectionate overtime. You didn’t always sleep in Jinho’s room, but when you did, you curled up under the blanket and nuzzled into your owner’s stomach to get all the warmth you could. During the day, you were almost always touching Yuto somehow. Laying on his chest, playing with his tail, or running your hand through his hair while he laid his head in your lap. You just loved affection and showing affection, and both boys enjoyed it just as much.

On top of that, Jinho was the best owner you could’ve asked for. He made sure you were happy and healthy, he gave you a bunch of toys -- which Yuto loved to play with now -- and he never prodded about your pasts. He let you open up to him if you wanted to, and he never pushed either of you. You wished you had trusted him sooner.

But then you would’ve never found Yuto.

“We’ll cuddle when I’m done, okay?” Jinho promised, mostly looking at you because he didn’t know if Yuto would want all that affection at once. “We can eat dinner in the living room.”

You let out an excited gasp, “Really?”

“_____, you act like we never eat in the living room,” Jinho giggled.

“Yeah, but it’s still special…”

“C’mon,” Yuto said, lifting his head and pulling on your wrist lightly. “Call us if you need us.”

Jinho hummed in reply while you followed Yuto back into the living room. He pulled you to sit beside him on the couch to resume watching TV together, pulling your favorite blanket around you. But you quickly fixed it so it was around both of you, resting your head on his shoulder and letting out a soft purr feeling him rest his head against yours.

Things really couldn’t have turned out more perfect.

[tarithenurse]

On my mind, in my soul - 4

Prompt: Blue, floor, Foreigner’s God by Hozier (passages in block quotes) Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Swearing, angst, pain (mostly emotional), arguing, sadness, mention of trauma, LEMONS (with a hint of dom/sub?)...fluff? A/N: Link to previous chapters in Masterlist (check bio or tab). If you want a tag, then just ask (yay). Please reblog if you enjoyed...or comment! Comments are nice too. When that’s said...probably a shitload of typos etc bc i’ve not proofread ‘cause I’m in a shitty place mentally after a too social weekend (so worth it though). “Resume”: (Because this takes off right where we left last chapter)  The heavy sigh rattles you to your core. “I’m sorry for this, [Y/N].” Glancing briefly, you see how he runs a hand over his face, rubbing the tired eyes momentarily. “I can only imagine what you must think of me, truly…but I need you to hear me out, alright?”

It’s not like you have a choice, really, and this conversation has started nothing like you’d expected. “Then talk.”

Holding the Devil’s Hand

Waiting impatiently for the worst too happen, it surprised you when you realize he’s sitting down on the floor as far away from you as possible. There are other options for him to sit comfortably, still he’s chosen the least threatening option. It’s on purpose…trying to make me at ease. Drop my guard. Regardless the reasoning behind it, however, the silence still hangs heavy in the air, threatening to explode if neither of you say anything.

Her eyes look sharp and steady Into the empty parts of me

“I’m not good at these sort of things…apologies.” Stalling already with a sigh, Loki settles down more comfortably in the corner by the door. “I realize that…nothing I say can make it up to you…” You can feel his eyes on your back and it paralyses you, afraid what might set him off. “I…I’m prone to think very highly of myself and my skills as the God of Mischief and Chaos. Finding that I had been tricked and by a Midgardian girl no less?” He snorts in disbelief at his own words, releasing a hot prickle of anger in your chest. “I was intrigued. Amused more than offended…”

You grab the chance as he trails off. “So far you’ve said nothing that warrants fucking kidnapping me! Either get to it or let me go now!”

“Easy, tiger,” the god smirks, “my point is…your skills, personality…you…I see potential. The few testes I arranged proved that you’re exactly the partner in crime I need for a very delicate…challenge. I’ve been spending almost every waking hour since we parted to try to find you in the hopes of…convincing you to return so I could explain myself and extend an offer I think would be mutually beneficial,” Loki’s voice lowers to a purr, “because you can’t deny that we’re good together. Although…complementing each others’ baser instinct was a bonus which I thought you had no problem with until the…misunderstanding we –“

“Misunderstanding?” Spinning to face him, all the fear’s been flushed away by anger-fueled adrenaline and you can feel the nails dig into your palms to keep your hands from shaking. Anger at him. And anger at the heat in your core at the memories he awakens. “Misunderstanding!? Are you fuckin’ serious right now??!! You hit me so hard that I landed at the other side of the bloody room!”

He’s on his feet quicker than you can fathom and you jerk backwards until you collide with the bench by the window, sending you hard on your ass. The fearful retreat stops him short. Burning indignation reigned in in the same way he returns to the far side although he stays standing.

“What you accused me of being willing to do…” Loki’s voice’s shaking with anger although he tries to hold it back, “people may never think of me as good, but I have a code if you will. Some things that I’ll never lower myself to.”

“H-how should I…” The words are hardly getting across your lips as you stutter meekly along, so you try again. “Ho-ow should I know that?” It’s hardly a victory to finish a sentence, but this time it feels as though you’ve accomplished something grand, the little thrill enabling you to continue. “Prone, held at knifepoint by a guy who was accused of all sorts of shit. And not just here on earth.”

You know from experience how good Loki’s at using his tongue, but words don’t come easy as he opens and closes the pretty mouth of his until eventually, he stops trying and withdraws into himself. Once more, the only sounds is the faint buzz from the lamps and a gurgle in the waterpipes hidden behind the rich wallpaper. Rubbing the back of your legs where you’d slammed them against the seat, you assure yourself that not even a bruise will hint at your clumsiness.

The sound of a lock makes you look up to see Loki opening the door and stepping well out of the way, granting a clear path out of his bedroom. He doesn’t look at you, so you doubt your ears when he tells you that you are free to go.

Hesitantly at first, you tread across the soft carpet, each step bringing you close to freedom yet also fanning a doubt in your mind. Five steps to the door, Loki’s standing still in front of the mirror by the dresser. Four steps, you ignore the frown and glistening trail on his cheek. Two steps, and your legs are slowing, body fighting against the logic that urges you to hurry out and down the stairs, whishing no one will stop you. One step, and a memory presents itself, uncalled for at an inopportune moment which causes even your logic to hesitate. In the doorway itself, you come to a halt.

She feels no control of her body She feels no safety in my arms

“What was it?” Don’t hear the quiver of my voice, please.

You can see the staircase from where you stand, the broad steps granting a glimpse to the hall below.

“What was what?” Loki answers flatly.

“What was the reason the charges were dropped? About your role in New York?”

Everyone had been stunned when the news leaked, and it had been the rage in the media and online where the most absurd conspiracy theories went unchecked because really, what arguments were there anymore now that it was a fact that aliens existed?

“It’s of no consequence.” Arms cross over his chest, defiant and protectively. “Just leave. Forget about this. I will not bother you anymore.”

Dimwitted, emo-loving freak, your logic begins a rant to get you from doing exactly what you end up with anyways. A few steps back, while cussing yourself to Antarctica and back, brings the reflection of the god’s face back in view. Pale and hard. A hand nimbly swipes a wet shimmer away before it reaches the sharp jaw. Don’t fucking do it. It’s a trap. He’s a trickster. A liar. The sharp sting from the teeth sinking into your lower lip shuts up the inner monologue for a moment, allowing you to breathe deeply and way the risks.

All that I've been taught And every word I've got Is foreign to me

“You’d never given me a reason to actually…fear you…despite your majorly creepy stunts of breaking in to my place and shit…” The exhale comes as a puff, that stirs the fine particles dancing in the air between the open door and you. “The rules of our…game...thing…they were never clear, but you…you…uhm…” Struggling to put the chaotic thoughts into words, you know that you’re trying to convince yourself more than him and you hate yourself for it. “You’d not done anything I didn’t want be-before I accused you of wanting to…y’know…and you hadn’t even hinted that that was something…”

Loki has gone completely still, barely even breathing as he listens to the mumbled mess, but you’re at a loss at what you actually want to accomplish. Comfort him? He’d hurt you physically. Scared you. But if anyone had said something similar to you, wouldn’t you have lost your temper? Difference is, of course, that you don’t have the strength to literally knock someone through a wall.

“Gimme one good reason to trust y’again.” The harshness you’d tried to summon is inaudible, reducing your order to a plea.

“Not that.”

Staying quiet, you absentmindedly try to rub some warmth into your arms as you wait for the man to quit being stubborn. It’s going to be a long wait, but now that the door’s open you aren’t in as bad a rush as before.

“There’s an item which I greatly desire, but it’s of dire importance tha–“

“You can take the item and shove it unless you don’t answer my question,” your voice cracks like a whip, silencing Loki quite efficiently and you notice how the god’s body tenses.

A rustle accompanies the stubborn, no, haughty answer. “I told those who need to know about…the background for New York.”

“Then there’s no more to talk about.”

You’re in the hallway, when he calls out for you, broken and beaten by his own demons. I should continue. Already, your feet are rooted on the polished wood. I should leave. Soft footsteps are drawing near, urging you to run rather than turn to face the man the way you actually do, watching his cautionary movements and the tremble of his hands, feeling the cold roll over you once more. This is a trick. Eyes meet and you have no doubt that the pain he’s exhibiting is real.

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a soft murmur, spoken into his raven hair as you awkwardly pat his back.

It takes a minute or two before he straightens up, freeing you shoulder from the weight of his chilly head but taking your hands instead to tug you gently with him back into the room.

The door closes softly behind you, no click of the lock this time at least, as Loki silently offers the bed as a seat for you. You accept hesitantly, afraid of how long or short a time is left before the trap’s sprung. A trap you’ve walked into freely this time. Thankfully, he leans against the wall by the bathroom door with his head hung low as you fidget with the hem of the purple silk, trying to find some way to soothe your nerves. Can I take the cover? The air’s freezing.

“If you ever tell anyone about this…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to, really, mostly because even in your world there are some things that are sacred. He’s not the only one with a code. And then he begins talking about event long passed, about wrongs he had done of his own free will where not even the despair he’d felt was an excuse and no promises from neither him nor his family could right the many wrongs that had been committed. It had let to his fall. Literally and figuratively.

Then the tale takes a turn for the worse. To a darkness where words fail along with the god’s human appearance. As Loki talks about torture and pain beyond any you’ve experienced, his real form breaks free as if trying to protect him from the memories. Red eyes blur and burn in stark contrast to the ice that form around him, creeping towards you. And still you inch closer to him, to hear the words that are whispered hoarsely and to tentatively extend a quivering hand, placing it on his dark-clawed fingers.  Squeezing as he whispers the name of a Titan.

Screaming the name Of a foreigner's God The purest expression of grief

“I don’t want your pity,” he growls, trying to shake off the hand.

I know. “Good. ‘Cause you’re not getting it.” You manage to contain the sigh. “You’re still a fucking lunatic, but at least I know why…I can work with this…”

“You can…?” Eyes like blood scorch your skin.

Yeah, it’s not smart of me, though. “Gonna clear up some things if it’s gonna work…and you’ve got a shitload of sucking up ‘fore I forgive you for bashing me ‘cross the room.”

The reaction’s immediate, perfect proof that you’ve chosen the wrong words. A low frequency makes the air hum, and the face folds into that of a predator that’s both hungry and amused because it knows where to find the next meal without putting any real effort into it. Catching your wrist before you can pull your hand back, so you tug hard, pulling Loki’s on his knees before you as you scuttle back along the wide bed. Raven hair partially obscuring the smirk curling his lips, falling away grant a view of the shoulder blades oscillating under the thin, white shirt that’s stretching tight over the wider-than-normal body.

“How convenient.” The lip that darts out have an effect on more than just Loki’s lips. “I’ll do more than just…suck…up.”

Pressed up against the headboard, your only escape would be off the other side of the bed, but of course you don’t go for it because you’re a fool with no backbone to resist the silver-tongued god even now. That’s why you let him grab your ankles and pull you slowly to the edge of the bed, kissing each inch of skin as it gets within reach all the while he bunches up the thin fabric of your dress until his lips ghost across the very top of your inner thigh. A cold nose brush the soft lace as he switches attention from one side to the other, almost distracting you from the fingers that are wandering past your hips and across the expanse of you belly, straining the fabric and setting off shivers that have nothing to do with the cold of the room.

There’s a warm shimmer, a sign that you know very well already, exposing more of your body and granting Loki a chance to slither the exploring hand further until it skims the valley between the breasts to trace the delicate lace that does absolutely nothing to hide the perking nipples. Teasing and pinching them through the bra ads a lovely contrast to the feathery kisses and licks below the waist until you’re breathing raggedly, chasing Loki’s mouth with your still covered cunt.

Wide strokes of blue palms towards your hips send new waves of anticipation rushing along, and you can feel how slick your core is becoming even though the god hasn’t even touched you there. The moment his fingers hook on the panties, you can’t help but hold your breath. Glancing down between your legs to see delight warming the features decorated with lines…lines that you know from experience are practically everywhere on his body. But the green eyes are trained on the reveal happening before him as, inch by inch, your pussy’s bared.

“So beautiful.”  The words are carried on cold breath but hold more warmth and adoration than anyone else has ever shown for your body. “Perfect…and eager.”

You know somehow that you moan the moment his mouth finds your folds and begins to tease, driving you to writhing and whimpering to the precipice of release all while Loki’s kneeling on the floor between your feet. Each moan from your lips makes him hum with pleasure, sending vibrations into your core in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Every gasp and panting breath from your lungs causes him to suck greedily at your clit.

Somewhere in the process, you realize as Loki spreads your legs further, he’s removed your panties completely, but a particular strong lick that curls his tip of his tongue inside you chases any coherent thoughts away. Then you feel his fingers pushing and wiggling against the fluttering walls of your pussy, finding the g-spot and running over it again and again in slow pumps matching the pace of his lips. Teeth nibbling and tugging in a masterful feat of balance between pleasure and pain.

“Let me hear you…then I’ll let you cum.” Even when talking, Loki doesn’t let up but applies a thumb deftly to your clit. “Say my name.”

In the foggy storm of you mind, the words annoy you. That wasn’t the deal. It’s a struggle to get as far as to rest on your elbows because each movement requires coordinated use of your muscles that are trembling due to Loki’s ministrations. Finally in place, you catch his hooded, red eyes.

“N-no-o.” Your answer makes him slow down, but not stop. “You’ve no…right…to demand anything.”

You’re gasping for breath and in no condition to assert any imagined power, but pure stubbornness fuels you even as the man arches an eyebrow at you in disbelief. Lazy circles around the nerve bundle keeps you on edge, fingers slide effortlessly through the tight wetness in a way that sweep your g-spot gently.

“My dear, I believe you’re right…I did give my word.”

The low growl should have been warning enough in it’s own, but you’re too tightly wrapped in the ecstasy his adept handling has you stewing in to notice how his arms wrap around your thighs. All you know is that the world seems to shift around you sending you off the edge of the bed and impaling you swiftly around the ridged cock. All air leaves you in a warbled moan as the sudden intrusion topples you over the edge, back arching so you shoulders rest on the mattress, holding you partially in place like a safety in case your grip on Loki’s shoulders should fail. Even then, he’s got your hips in a bruising grip, lifting and lowering you effortlessly at a reckless pace without any risk of you slipping away.

Your core is spasming, sending thundering waves of heat each time the icy shaft bottoms out, ridges passing the sensitive spot each time. Sharp keens spur the god to rut into you wilder, practically shoving you back onto the bed as he leans over you to taste your skin. Lavish kisses and love bites soak up the pearls of sweat and he sucks greedily at your neck, you breasts, your mouth. The two of you share breaths through the superficial pantings, causing you to slowly black out from the mix of restricted air and the continuous orgasm burning through your body.

A cold thumb presses against your clit, rubbing tiny circles simultaneously bringing you even higher than you thought possible as Loki succumbs to bliss, your name woven into the shameless moan fanning your throat an instant before his leaves your lips as a ragged, breathy scream.

Screaming the name Of a foreigner's God …

Wrapped in Loki’s (now pale) arms, your thought are barely coherent enough to wonder if it’s a good idea to linger. He’s taken care of you gently and sweeter than you thought possible from someone like him.

Who am I kidding…there’s no one like him!

Those are your last thoughts as sleep claims you.