#so observant <3 he was looking at everyone's faces and reading the room before he responded to ross

[meidui]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016)

[science-hoes]

Afterglow

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, angst but then smut

A/N: I had been trying so hard to finish up this one! I love writing for angsty Robby that ends up being happy in the end. I just love my tortured lil guy with brown eyes.

—

You could feel somebody’s eyes burning a hole through your head as you finished charting for your last patient of the shift. You knew it was Robby. The patient was a young woman who had come in after fainting for the first time. Robby suggested dysautonomia and wanted to discharge after observation, but you weren’t so sure. So you ordered an EKG, revealing a second degree Monitz Type 1 heart block. These were benign but important to explain her fainting. The only problem? You did it after Robby explicitly told you no.

Your relationship with Robby was perfect. Most of the time. He provided for you, cared for you, and protected you. And you were eager to reciprocate it. After a year of dating, you both kept the privacy of your relationship at work. Only Dana and Abbot knew. Robby treated you like every other resident, but sometimes, that wasn’t a good thing.

You finished typing in the chart and logged out of the computer. You stood, ready to go grab your backpack and head home. But when you turned around, Robby was towering over you with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly.

You raised an eyebrow, not able to read the emotions behind his eyes. “About…?” You asked.

“I told you not to order the EKG for Room 3. Explain to me how that got lost in translation.” His eyes were narrowed, and you grew uncomfortable under his piercing gaze.

You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “Because she’s an athlete. Second degree Type 1 is very common in young female athletes.” You stated firmly.

“Which is also benign. The dysautonomia could also account for her fainting.” He countered.

You shook your head in confusion. “I don’t understand. We helped a young woman learn about a block that could be a problem down the road. What is the problem?” You asked.

Robby chuckled, but you knew that laugh. The one before he blew up on a medical student. “The problem is that you went behind my back and ordered an EKG I explicitly told you not to.” He explained, bordering condescending.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Because I didn’t think your diagnosis was correct.” You responded, feeling anxiety rush through your veins as you stood up for yourself.

He shook his head “I don’t care. You are the resident, and I am the attending.”

He pulled his rank on you. He’s never done that. Even before you were dating. You huffed and clenched your jaw. “But I was right.” You said.

“You were right this time. But making a habit of defying your superiors can lead to somebody dying.”

“But-“

“I don’t want to hear excuses, I want to hear ‘yes, sir.’ Do you understand me?” Robby said, nostrils flared, face red.

You could not BELIEVE the audacity of this man. You looked around, and every single person in the Pitt had their eyes on you. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and tears stung your eyes. “Yes, sir.” You hissed.

Robby watched you storm off to the doctor’s lounge. The anger in his chest began to dissipate as he looked around the room and noticed the scene he had caused. “Get back to work.” He ordered, and everyone began to awkwardly continue about their shift.

He sat down at the desk you had been working at and rubbed his hands on his face. Regret began to sink in.

“Hey, man. What the fuck was that?” He heard Dana ask him.

Robby looked up and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Was all he managed to say.

“Well, you just humiliated a resident and your girlfriend in front of the whole Pitt. Let’s start there.” Dana said as she sat down next to him.

“She went behind my back and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the story. Everyone did.” Dana deadpanned, and Robby rolled his eyes. “Why did you feel the need to berate her like that?”

Robby shrugged. “I didn’t berate her. I had to remind her that she can’t just defy orders as a resident. That could both of us in trouble if something bad happened.” He explained.

“Sure, that makes sense. But you were a dick about it.” Dana replied.

“It just happened. I was angry.”

Dana leaned in closer, keeping her voice quiet in case any nosy nurses were listening. “You are in a relationship with a power imbalance. Maybe it’s equal at home, but not here. You can’t just drill her like that.”

“I have to treat her like she is a junior resident. I can’t give her special treatment because she’s my girlfriend.”

Dana laughed, unable to handle how dense Robby was being. “Special treatment? Robby, you are way harder on her than you are on anybody else in the Pitt. Even the senior residents.”

Robby looked to Dana. “She is defying me in front of the senior residents.” He defended.

“She is standing up for herself. Just like Langdon, just like Collins, just like any resident would. Whatever pride is getting in the way of your relationship, you need to let it go.”

“It’s not pride.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Dana sighed heavily. “Robby, I have seen you in a work relationship up close. You did not act this way to Collins. But I also know you didn’t love Collins.”

Robby felt an internal sting of guilt at the mention of his past relationship. But Dana was right. “What’s your point?”

“You are about to destroy the one thing that makes you a tolerable person.” Dana said bluntly.

Robby sat there for a moment, the words echoing in his ears. He had never considered that he might be hurting your relationship. All he was worried about at work was turning you into the best physician. Even if that came with tough love. But today wasn’t tough love. It was his pride and arrogance pushing through the surface and bearing its ugly teeth.

“You had better go and get her before she’s gone.” Dana’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

Robby nodded and stood up. He squeezed Dana’s shoulder. “Thanks.” He said.

Dana leaned back in her chair as Robby turned to leave. “First relationship counseling session is free. Next one, I’m charging 50 bucks.” She teased.

Normally, Robby would have made a sarcastic comment back, but the only thing he could think about as he walked to the doctor’s lounge was you. He opened the door to the lounge, and his heart sank when he saw that your belongings were already gone. So, he collected his backpack and hurried out the door to your apartment.

—

You managed to hold it together until you got home. You dropped your backpack on the ground and burst into tears. Robby had never yelled at you like that, and honestly, you were a little frightened by it. You knew he would never lay a (non-consensual) finger on you, but you never imagined you would be on the receiving end of his meltdowns.

You collapsed onto your bed and pulled the pillow to your chest as you cried. The image of Robby’s angry red face was terrorizing your mind. And even worse, you felt unstable in the relationship for the first time. You had never fought with Robby, not really. Tiny arguments over thermostat settings were the worst altercations, and you both laughed the whole time.

The age gap between you and Robby was not a problem. You both had an honest conversation about what it would mean to work with each other before you started officially dating. There had not been any issue. Sure, you noticed that he was more critical of your work. You figured you deserved it, but you didn’t notice any difference between that and the criticism he held for other residents.

You heard the front door lock click, and the door opened. “Hey, kid. I’m home.” A voice called out.

You suddenly felt anger bubble in your chest. Robby walked around the apartment for a moment until he saw you through the open bedroom door, curled up with the pillow. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t mean anything to you. You wanted to yell and scream and get back at him. Make him feel as bad as you did. But you didn’t. That wasn’t healthy.

Robby took your silence as the response. “I fucked up today. I belittled you in front of everyone, and I didn’t respect your education and decisions.” He continued.

You watched him through teary eyes. And it broke his heart. He wanted to hold you close and wipe them away and kiss the stains they made on your cheeks. But he knew he caused them. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anxious tic.

“I know you’re mad. And I know that you will be for a while. I let my pride and arrogance get ahead of me, and I didn’t respect you as a resident.” He said and reached a hand to stroke your hair out of your face. “But more importantly, I didn’t respect you as my girlfriend. My partner.” He added.

You felt the anger begin to dwindle but kept your guard up. “You‘ve never yelled at me like that.” You whispered and a fresh wave of tears streamed down your face.

Robby felt like a knife was twisting in his chest at the sight of you. “I know. And I’ll never do it again. That’s a promise.” He replied. “I know I’m harder on you than the other residents. I just want you to be the best physician. Better than me.”

You rolled your eyes at his answer. “Shouldn’t you want all of your residents to be the best?” You asked.

Robby bit his bottom lip in thought. “Yes. But I want you to be better than all of them.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. He loved you. He said he loved you. Robby had never dared utter the words prematurely. Sure, you knew you loved him months ago. But you weren’t going to risk scaring him off if he wasn’t ready for that.

“I love you, kid.” He reiterated when he saw that you were processing his words carefully. “And I have for a long time. You have shown me what it means to be happy. I used to dread waking up every morning, and now I wake up with you by my side. Every decision I make is for you. For our future. You are my anchor to reality. I was scared to say it because I didn’t want karma or fate or whatever to take you away from me.”

Your face softened, but the tears kept coming. For a different reason this time. You reached your hand out and pulled him by the strings of his hoodie to lie down next to you. Robby’s sad brown eyes began to well with tears as he stared into yours.

“Do you love me?” He asked, scared like a child.

You realized you hadn’t said anything since his initial confession. A smile graced your lips, just slightly. “Michael, I love you more than anything.” You whispered.

Relief washed over Robby’s face, and his heart skipped a beat when you said his first name, which you rarely did. Only in intimate moments like this. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, the tears starting to fall down his face, but not wanting to push boundaries if you were still upset.

You answered by leaning in and capturing his lips with yours. Robby wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid you would disappear if he let go. The kiss was not hot or desperate like the ones you were used to after a long shift. This one was slow and soft. He pulled gently at your top lip and took advantage of your ensuing moan to slip his tongue in your mouth. You let him explore like it was your first kiss and slid your own tongue against his.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispered into your mouth over and over.

You ran your fingers through his dark thinning hair and anchored them at the base of his neck, guaranteeing that his lips couldn’t leave yours. His beard began to burn against your chin, but you didn’t care.

“I love you.” You whispered in return.

Robby’s mouth finally left your lips and began kissing anything he could find. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your jaw. Moving down to your neck, sucking gently but not leaving a mark, as according to the rules you both set for work. The hot open-mouthed kisses on your carotid sent chills down your spine, and you squirmed in his grasp, legs weaving between his. He tugged at your scrub top, and you momentarily left his grasp to pull it off.

Once you were back in his arms, Robby’s mouth latched to your chest, pressing more kisses down the valley of your breasts. His hands expertly unlatched your bra in the back, exposing your soft nipples to the cold air of the room. His beard tickled your skin as he moved to your right breast. Your head dropped back on the pillow when his tongue glided across your nipple, making circles to excite it. Once it hardened, he took the bud in between his teeth and sucked gently.

A shaky breath left your lungs, the polarity of sensations driving you crazy. One of your hands remained in his hair as he nursed on you, the other digging into the skin of his back. After what he deemed enough time for your right breast, he moved to the left one, giving in the same treatment.

It wasn’t like Robby to move slowly like this. Usually, he had you on your stomach, ass in the air, and pounding away within five minutes of getting home. But he didn’t want to fuck you tonight. He wanted to show you his love.

You finally pulled at his hoodie, wanting to feel more of his skin on yours. He sat up, a small smile on his face, and shed both his scrub top and hoodie, exposing his broad but toned upper body. He fell back down to you, but moved lower this time. His mouth left kisses down from your breasts to your navel, fingers pulling at the waistband of your scrub pants and underwear. As you lifted your hips to help remove them, he left love bites along your waist, which was fair game.

When he tossed your scrubs and panties aside, Robby lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders. This position you were very familiar with. He planted kisses on the inside of your thighs, met with slick wetness as he got closer to your weeping pussy. You could feel him smile from the way his beard moved against your skin. It didn’t matter if he was fucking you after work or eating you out while on break in the call room, it boosted his confidence tenfold to know how wet you got for him.

“All this for me?” He asked, looking up to you those boyish brown eyes glistening in the dark light of the room.

You breathed a laugh, squeezing your thighs a bit around his shoulders. “Only for you.” You confirmed.

“That’s right.” He breathed.

His tongue gently teased your slick folds. His mouth began to water once he could taste you, and he needed more. He tightened his grip on your hips and buried his face in between your legs, ungodly sounds coming from his throat as he devoured you.

You screamed and twisted the bedsheets in your fists. Your thighs squeezed around his neck involuntarily, and it drove him crazy. He reached a hand down to your mound and rubbed strong circles with his thumb as he ate away at your pussy. You didn’t have to tell him that you were close. He knew by the way your hips bucked into his mouth that you were losing control.

“Come for me, baby girl.” He mumbled against you.

The white hot sensation exploded from your core across your body after another few expert maneuvers with his tongue. He lapped up all of the juices that spilled onto his tongue, swallowing them like a starving man. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your abdomen as your body finally went limp.

Robby kissed your inner thighs when he finished his meal and moved back up the bed, hovering over you. His beard glistened with your juices, and you pulled him down to kiss them off.

“You got one more in you?” He asked, gently pressing his clothed hips against yours.

You smiled and reached for the drawstring of his scrub pants. “Always.” You whispered.

Robby kicked off his scrub pants and boxer briefs, unleashing his painfully hard cock, already leaking with precum. You instinctively started to roll onto your stomach, but he grabbed your hips, planting them firmly against the bed.

“No. I want to look at you while I fuck you tonight.” He said.

Even after a year, Robby could still make you blush. You nodded, spreading your thighs as he centered himself at your pussy. He pushed in slowly, his cock filling you out completely. You unconsciously moaned the entire time until he bottomed out. He pressed a kiss against your neck as he pulled out again.

“That’s a good girl.” He breathed.

His hips began to thrust, making a slow but intentional pace. He indulged in every pitiful sound that fell from your lips as he gently fucked you.

“You feel so good.” You managed to mumble into his ear.

He grinned and pressed a kiss to your cheek, then resting his forehead against yours. The thin gold chain that hung around his neck slapped your chin with every thrust, the cool metal providing an extra sensation to your already overstimulated body. Your fingers dug into his back, scratching and slipping on his sweaty skin.

“I’ll make you feel better.” Robby said, and he pushed your knees to your chest, ankles around his shoulders, compressing his cock even more within your walls.

You let out a string of explicatives as the new position enhanced your pleasure. Robby chuckled as he continued to thrust, slowly picking up more speed. Tears squeezed through your eyes as your second orgasm began to rise. And like always, he knew you were getting close.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He praised, his pace unfaltering.

Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, rendering you numb and weak. Robby kept pounding against you, struggling to maintain a consistent pace as his own orgasm was nearing. But just like he could sense yours, you knew when he was about to come.

“Come inside me.” You begged, the first time you had ever requested it.

Robby’s eyes widened, and he grunted as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “Are you-are you sure?” He asked, squeezing your waist tightly.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. Please come in me. I want to feel you.” You pleaded again.

A small grin made its way to Robby’s face. But the thought was too exciting for him, and his orgasm hit him harder and faster than he was used to. You could feel each hot spurt of cum coat your walls, each pulse of his veined cock twitch inside you. His arms trembled, and he collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body rather comforting.

You rubbed soothing circles on his back and kissed his sweat-covered forehead. “I love you, Michael Robinavitch.” You whispered.

Robby smiled as his head rested on your bare chest, listening to your heartbeat. “I love you, kid.” He responded, feeling happiest he had ever been.

[accioharrington9]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: four times you spent a holiday with your best friend Steve Harrington and one time you didn't and missed him.

word count: 10.2k

warnings: friends-to-lovers, everyone can see it (including steve and reader but they're both kind of in denial), mutual pining, characters in their mid-twenties, fluff and (some) emotional angst, steve uses a cheesy nickname for reader, mentions of partying and alcohol consumption, some swearing, no use of y/n

notes: hi all, this is the first reader fic that i publish here, so bear with me, i tried my best <3 in light of the year-end celebrations, this fun little idea of a fic came to me and i decided to give it a shot, so i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

🥂🥂🥂

“What are your resolutions for the new year?”

You looked up from your glass of champagne when Steve asked you that question out of the blue. You were both leaning against the kitchen island at Nancy and Jonathan’s apartment, distractedly observing your friends playing a drinking game you had both stepped out of.  You were glad to allow your friends their fun, but mostly, to have a reason to get some alone time, just the two of you. A silent agreement, as always.

“You know I don’t believe in resolutions,” you answered before bringing a flute smudged by your red lipstick to your lips.

“Oh, come on, kitten, humor me for a second.”

You raised an eyebrow at him while he waited for your response with a cheeky smile. You heard Robin burst into laughter from the living room, but you were too focused on Steve’s loose strand of hair and the woody scent of his new cologne to acknowledge it.

“Fine,” you obliged him. “Well, I resolve to quit drinking coffee, exercise more, and buy a new and well-functioning car.”

“You’re full of shit,” Steve laughed. “Like you’re ever going to get rid of Gina.”

“Of course I’m not getting rid of Gina, she’s my ride-or-die,” you said, referring to your personified old car.

“Yeah, emphasis on ‘die’ – you're missing a rearview mirror in there.”

You nudged him playfully, briefly losing your balance but Steve helped steady you immediately, putting a hand on your hips that hovered there longer than necessary. You chuckled for good measure but couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face.

Everyone knew you and Steve had a thing for each other. It had been that way since high school – lingering looks in the hallway between classes, overly tactile during a mundane conversation, pretending to forget something at the other’s house to have a reason to go there again… Everyone knew it, was used to it, and never mentioned anything about it – you and Steve included.

Nothing had ever happened because the timing was always off. If it wasn’t Steve who was dating someone, you were; then you moved away to go to college, and when you came back to Hawkins after graduating, Steve had just left for an internship in New York. Eventually, you grew tired of the never-ending “what-ifs” and made your peace knowing that Steve Harrington would always be more than just a friend but less than a lover. A fine line you both tiptoed in and out of too much over the past eight years.

“What about you?” you eventually asked Steve. “You’re corny as shit, you must have a lot of them resolutions in mind.”

“I only thought of a couple, and they’re not that corny.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Steve laughed again, running a hand through his hair as he reflected on what he’d say. You admired him while he did so. It was frustrating, still having that teenage crush on your longtime friend, not being able to let it go, not entirely at least. You sometimes wished you could be his friend the way Robin was to him, or Eddie was to you. It would make it all so much easier, so much less painful than this in two minds you were both stuck in, this blatant desire for more, this fear that it could all be ruined in seconds, poor decisions fragmenting the illusion of a blissful friendship.

“I thought about learning how to play the guitar.”

“Cliché,” you teased. “What else?”

You could see the turn the conversation had taken when Steve hesitated before talking – looked nervous, even.

“Moving out. Getting my own place.”

You stared at Steve, quiet. You couldn’t say you were surprised – he’d been roommates with Eddie since they both enrolled in community college a few years ago. Even after graduating and getting a job, they stayed that way, because it was simple; splitting the bills, having someone to talk to after a lonely day. But it could only work for so long. It was only a matter of time until one or the other got bored and needed a change of scenery. To you, it was no surprise Steve had that revelation first.

“You sound serious,” was the only comment you could express.

“Because I am,” Steve said. “I started looking at one-bedroom apartments to rent in the neighborhood.”

“Does Eddie know?” you asked.

Steve pursed his lips as he shook his head from left to right. You hummed and couldn’t help but look at the young man in question, with his curly hair tied back in a bun and his poor imitation of some football player his team had to guess the name of. You loved this friend group – you loved the dynamic, the hijinks, and the stability. You loved hanging out with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan at Eddie and Steve's apartment. You loved everything about it and the thought of losing your bearings, of disrupting your habits, made you too sad for the 31st of December, five minutes away from another midnight of confetti, embraces, and promises.

“You’re the first person I told,” Steve eventually said, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. “I thought you could share some of that wisdom you have to advise me.”

You snorted, lazily knocking your shoulder against his arm. “You buttering up to me, Harrington?”

“Only if it’s working.”

You got lost in his beautiful brown eyes, aware of the subtlest things, like his pinky finger brushing your hand timidly, the mint toothpaste on his breath, or how perfectly he wore the sweater you gifted him. It felt so right, standing close to him and toying with the possibility of the unknown. It always did with Steve.

“Okay guys, it’s officially one minute away from midnight, gather ‘round!!” Nancy exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

Reluctantly, you left the little bubble of peace and happiness you had created in the kitchen, Steve following closely behind. As you started counting down from ten, surrounded by all your closest and dearest friends, you only had eyes for Steve.

It had become a habit since you first celebrated New Year’s Eve with him years ago – you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d kiss you at midnight. It was a fantasy you’d entertained ever since you were eighteen, the final and first thought of each year that passed without ever becoming real. Each year, naively, you thought it’d be different. But each year, it was the same old song all over again.

As the clock struck midnight and cheers erupted among the friend group, you hugged everyone. You saved the best ‘til last, heart beating frantically as Steve wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, getting drunk on his cologne – pathetic, disillusioned.

“Happy New Year, kitten,” Steve whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek – soft, tender, and terribly platonic, as usual.

“Happy New Year, Harrington,” you kissed his cheek in return, the trace of your lipstick leaving a mark on his skin like a temporary tattoo.

And you were too busy thinking about the undone to notice that this year, Steve held you in his arms a little longer than usual.

🌹🌹🌹

“Bro-lentine’s Day?”

“Is that one of those boys band they keep talking about on the radio?"

You held back a laugh at Steve’s question and Eddie’s comment regarding the odd suggestion Robin had just made. The four of you were waiting in line at a Wendy's drive-thru in Steve’s car, the crescent moon shining its feeble light in the night sky above.

“Why would you even think about spending Valentine’s Day with your loser single friends when you have a beautiful girlfriend you could shower with gifts?” Eddie asked, to which Steve, behind the wheel, concurred immediately.

“I mean, I obviously love you guys, but I mostly suggest that because Vickie’s working a night shift on the 14th and I figured it’d be nice to hang out together, the four of us, instead of just… I don’t know, being alone?” Robin admitted.

“Oh, so we’re your stand-ins?” Eddie exclaimed, feigning offense under your amused attention. “Classy, Buckley.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot like a pity party, Rob,” Steve pointed out.

You laughed along as Robin kept putting her foot in her mouth. It was often like that – Robin and Eddie gently bickering in the back seats while you exchanged knowing looks with Steve, in your designated seat at the front of the car.

The only difference was this time, when Steve searched for your eyes to have a silent laugh with you, you avoided his gaze, pretending to look in the distance, thinking about something you needed to say to him but couldn’t find the courage to.

“Okay, fine,” Eddie eventually yielded. “Let’s do this thing. But I have one condition – we go to Steve’s new apartment.”

“Excellent idea!” Robin exclaimed, enthusiastic.

“I told you guys, I’m not done unboxing my stuff, the place is a mess,” Steve argued as he started the ignition to move forward.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You say that like you have a thousand boxes.”

“It's his plethora of hair products - they take up a lot of room,” Eddie teased, which made Robin snort.

“You’re both hilarious, seriously, I can’t stop laughing,” Steve said with a straight face.

“So, it’s a deal,” Eddie said. “Bro-lentine’s Day at Steve’s new place – no, I’m sorry Rob, you’ll have to find another name, I hate how it sounds when it comes out of my mouth.”

“What do you think, babes?”

You only focused back on the conversation when Robin called your name, looking away from the constellations in the sky.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry babes but count me out of this one,” you said with a sorry smile.

Robin laughed, thinking you were probably messing with her. Steve was driving slowly now that the line ahead finally seemed to clear.

“Right, because you have something better to do on Valentine’s Day, of course,” Robin joked while Eddie chuckled.

You tried not to take offense because you knew it was some innocent banter, but it didn’t stop you from frowning.

“Actually, yes, I do,” you contradicted. “I have a date that day.”

The car braked abruptly, causing a blast of horns from the vehicle behind and surprised yelps from the back seats.

“What the fuck, Harrington??” Eddie ranted. “That’s why I keep telling you you’re a shit driver, seriously, how did you manage to get your license, man?"

“Sorry, I got… distracted for a sec’,” Steve apologized.

You couldn’t bear to look Steve in the eye, so you toyed with the bracelets around your wrists and stared at your shoes, waiting for your friends’ reaction to the news.

“Is it someone we know?” Robin asked bluntly. “It’s the cute guy from the music shop at the mall, isn’t it? I knew he had a crush on you, you’re the only one who got Like a Prayer for half price.”

“It was… actually a twenty-percent discount,” you corrected, even though none of your friends cared about that information.

“Who even asks someone out on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie asked himself out loud. “We have three hundred and sixty-five days a year, why choose this nightmare of a commercialized day deliberately?”

“I think it’s cute,” Robin shrugged.

You attempted a smile, but it was nowhere near convincing. Robin and Eddie weren’t even paying attention to you anymore, discussing with each other the pros and cons of a first date on the 14th of February. You gathered the courage to look at Steve, decipher his expression. He might’ve been trying to get your attention a moment ago, but now, he was just staring in front of him, both hands firmly holding the lower part of the wheel.

“So, you’re really going to abandon me with these two idiots, huh?”

Your laugh at Steve’s rhetorical question was a mix of amusement and relief. If there was one thing that meant more than anything to you, it was the harmony between you two. You knew that as soon as you or Steve dated someone, that harmony was threatened. It had happened before. It was a fatality.

“You’ll be just fine,” you assured softly. “It’s just one night.”

Steve chuckled, finally making it to the pickup window. “Yeah, you’re right. Just one night. Easy-peasy.”

At that moment, you couldn’t have imagined that on the 14th of February, you’d find yourself knocking on Steve’s door at ten in the evening, makeup ruined by your disappointed tears, holding tight to your coat and shame in the cold evening air.

When Steve opened the door and saw you standing before him, he blinked at the unexpected sight of you sniffing and shivering.

“What are you doing here, kitten? Is everything okay?”

As soon as you heard Steve’s voice and the concern he displayed, it was out of your control – another tear rolled down your cheek.

“Oh no. Come here.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice- when Steve opened his arms at you, you dived in, letting him hug you tight, accepting his warmth and empathy.

“Dude stood you up?” Steve asked, voice muffled as his face was buried in your hair.

“Worse,” you said. “He was there.”

Steve huffed, because it could’ve been a funny anecdote if not for the dried mascara that ran under your eyes.

“So, we’re not going to the music shop again, huh?”

“I never said it was the guy from the music shop,” you pointed out.

“You never denied it either.”

You snorted and you felt Steve smile against your head. He was the first to part from your embrace, but you were under the impression he could’ve stayed like that much longer.

“What’s taking so long, dingus?” Robin shouted from the living room. “You need help with the pizzas?”

“It’s not the pizzas,” Steve retorted as you stepped inside the apartment.

Both Robin and Eddie turned around on the couch and looked equally surprised to see you there.

“Is it okay if I crash Bro-lentine’s Day?” you asked sheepishly.

“We’re not calling it that!” Eddie said in a singsong.

“You’re more than welcome to crash Bro-lentine’s Day, babes,” Robin told you while wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you sat next to her.

“I give up,” Eddie sighed before heading for the kitchen.

“What did the loser do to get you like that?” Robin inquired, touching your face where the tears had dried.

“Honestly, he wasn’t even that bad,” you explained. “He just… wasn’t what I expected. I guess I’m tired of getting my hopes up and ending up disappointed every time.” You paused, reflecting on that state of mind. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Robin contradicted with a sympathetic smile. “It’s Valentine’s Day, anyone would’ve expected a perfect date.”

“Hence why you don’t date on that doomed day.”

“Can’t you just let it go already, Eddie??”

You smiled softly at your friends’ innocent quarrel, and you realized in the end, there were no other people you’d rather spend the day of love and romance with.

So, you settled comfortably on the couch in Steve’s new apartment, surrounded by dozens of wrapped boxes and your closest friends with a glass of wine and a cheesy movie to watch, sharing the details of your date with them.

“Well, his loss, darling, not yours,” Eddie said in conclusion to your story.

“Definitely,” Robin nodded.

You smiled lightly and you thought maybe, just maybe, they were right.

“Why are you smiling like that, Harrington?” Eddie then asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no reason,” Steve answered casually before finding a tiny spot between you and Robin on the couch.

🎉🎉🎉

There was nothing more frustrating than being late to meet your friends and having your car’s engine make that hideous sputtering sound as you kept putting the key in the ignition without it ever starting.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you echoed in sync with the car’s noises.

“I see Gina’s being cranky today.”

You glared at Steve, sitting in the passenger seat and enjoying himself a little too much.

“It’s too hot outside, she doesn’t like it when it’s too hot,” you explained to yourself more than Steve.

“It’s the 4th of July, kitten. It’s always hot on the 4th of July.”

“Thank you so much for this enlightening forecast, Harrington, have you ever considered a career in meteorology?”

You bit your lip when you realized how harsh your comeback had sounded. You slowly turned your head to lay regretful eyes on your friend.

“Sorry,” you winced.

“You’re good. I think I know why Gina’s cranky today – she takes from her owner.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it.

The sun was starting to set in a sky adorned with pink and orange hues only summer could take credit for. The air was hot, crickets chirping and bees buzzing while the whole town was already busying itself in preparation for the incoming festivities.

For the past six years, on Independence Day, you’ve met all your friends by the lake on the outskirts of Hawkins to have a barbecue with beers and watch the fireworks. It was a tradition you all honored religiously each Fourth of July.

Except this year, Robin was celebrating with Vickie’s family, Eddie was working at the music camp, which meant you were spending the evening with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, a group hangout that looked an awful lot like a double date, and it worked yourself up into quite a state.

“Did you get the Buds?” you asked Steve as the ignition still wouldn’t start.

“Packs in the trunk,” Steve answered straight off.

“And the blankets?”

“In the backseat.”

“The radio for the music?”

“Nance’s taking care of it.”

You fell back in your seat after failing one too many times to start the car and just closed your eyes, sighing heavily. You wiped your hands on your shorts, the summer heat getting the best of you, chest heaving and patience hanging by a thread.

“We can take my car tonight, maybe Gina needs the rest,” Steve suggested. It irritated you even more.

“We always take your car, tonight’s the one night a year we take mine,” you argued, putting the keys in the ignition again.

“We’ll take yours another time, then, it’s no big deal.”

“No,” you just said.

Without a heads-up, you got out of the vehicle. Steve followed you as you opened the hood to check the engine. You were rough in your endeavor, hair falling out on your face and hands quickly stained with oil.

“Why are you being so stubborn today?” Steve asked you, tone cutting sharp like a knife.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! You can tell as much as I can your car’s not going anywhere tonight, mine’s parked right behind and ready to go, so why are we losing time for nothing?”

“She’s just being picky right now but I’m getting there. She needs a little boost and she’s good to go,” you insisted, wiping the back of your hand on your forehead before realizing it’d smudge the oil.

“Yeah, sure, at this rate, she’ll be good to go for Thanksgiving,” Steve said ironically.

You shut the hood close abruptly, shooting daggers at Steve as he stood in front of you with his arms crossed. He looked just as irritated as you did.

“You’re being an asshole,” you stated matter-of-factly.

Steve snickered, eyebrows raising like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Oh, I’m the asshole in this situation? You’re a fine one to talk!”

“Are you seriously turning the tables on me right now?!”

“I’m not, you’re clearly in a mood today and you’re taking it out on me! Last I heard, I’m not a punching bag!”

Your face twisted into a scowl because Steve annoyed you a great deal, but mostly because he was right. You were far from being good company today, and today was meant to be fun, chill, eventful. You could blame it all on Gina, but you knew that was just the tip of the iceberg.

“I’m just saying I’m going to get the car started just fine, all I need is a few minutes to figure it out. And we’re already late anyway, they won’t hate us for the extra ten minutes,” you said as you opened the hood again.

“This is not about the car and we both know it,” Steve stated, sure of himself. Of course, he was – he knew you like the back of his hand.

You closed the hood as soon as you opened it, walking closer to Steve to face him properly.

“Maybe you should take it easy if you want her to work, you know,” Steve remarked.

“Why don’t you just say what’s on my mind, Steve? Since you apparently know it better than I do,” you hit him with your words.

“But that’s just the thing! I don’t!” Steve exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now and you won’t tell me a goddamn thing!”

“You already know what’s going on with me, I made it perfectly clear – I want my fucking car to start so we can go and meet our friends, as we do every year!”

“And I made it perfectly clear that we can take my car, so why are we still arguing about this??”

“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be!!”

The silence that followed that revelation felt intrusive. You couldn’t wait for Steve to tell you off, to argue with you some more, but instead, he didn’t say another word and just stared at you, dumbfounded. It allowed you to reflect on your behavior of the past ten minutes and you immediately dropped your eyes to look at your shoes, ashamed.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked you then, voice softer.

You sighed and looked in the distance, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s the tradition. On the 4th of July, you come to my place to help me pack everything, we take my car to pick up Eddie and Robin on the way to the lake, we meet Nance and Jonathan there, then, you and Eddie set the barbecue while Jonathan and I take care of the music, and Nance and Robin lay the blankets to make us cozy. And we eat and drink until they shoot the fireworks from downtown – it’s how the day is supposed to go.”

“Right, and it’s how it’s going to go today,” Steve assured, confused.

“No, it’s not. Rob and Eddie are not there this year, and because of Gina, we’re late and missing out on the sunset.” You paused, taking a breath. “It’s what I look forward to the most. Watching the sunset on the lake with you guys. All of you.”

Steve relaxed his shoulders and breathed out like he finally made sense of the underlying problem. He stepped closer to you and his hand cupped your face, willing you to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Nancy and Jonathan talking about moving to Chicago next year for Nancy’s job,” Steve said. “Am I boiling or getting colder?”

The rhetorical question elicited a weak smile on your lips.

“I know Chicago’s not that far from Hawkins, but… I like the way things are right now, you know?” you explained while Steve listened, nodding. “I like that we can hang out whenever we want to, show up unannounced at each other’s place, and whatnot.”

“You can still do that if they move to Chicago. It’ll just take you more than three hours to get there,” he teased you.

Steve did it – he made you laugh. “I’m not so sure Gina would survive the trip.”

“I’ll let you borrow my car, then,” Steve whispered, and even though you were bantering, it sounded like a promise.

You chuckled, the knot in your stomach coming undone as Steve put his thumb to your forehead, stroking where you had wiped the oil stain earlier.

“You look like shit,” he told you unceremoniously.

“And you’re a shitty friend,” you bit back, making you both smile.

Friend. The denomination never felt strong enough to define what you and Steve meant to one another. Yet, it was the only one you used, the only one that brought you comfort, especially in those blurry moments that kept you wondering why that boy had always been so sweet and kind to you, even when you felt undeserving.

You jumped at the sound of a car honking from the street, bringing you back to reality as you and Steve turned your heads to see what happened. You felt amused, and somehow relieved when you saw Nancy popping her head out the passenger window of Jonathan’s car like a beautifully staged interruption.

“Oh my God, you guys are late too?” Nancy shouted at them. “I told Jonathan to go over the speed limit, and as you can imagine, he was not happy about it.”

Steve laughed, and you followed suit because it was almost ridiculous, how perfect the situation had turned out. Sure, things felt different this year, with winds of change impending, and the future of your friend group unclear. But at least, you were all on the same page.

“While we’re here, get in the car with us!” Nancy offered, gesturing for you to come closer. “Maybe we can still catch the sunset.”

You exchanged an amused look with Steve, silently agreeing that your uncooperative car and your latest conversation would remain a secret you’d share only between you. Your friends didn’t need to know the reason why you were late.

So, you and Steve hurried to put everything in Jonathan’s car, climbed in the backseat, and made it to the lake just in time to admire the remnant of sunset and put everything into place to wait for the fireworks.

And as you put a blanket over your and Nancy’s shoulders, the fire crackling in the quiet of the evening around you, you couldn’t help but search for Steve’s eyes. He was already looking at you, sitting across the fire next to Jonathan. You smiled when you realized, and he winked at you, playful, secretive.

Maybe you were lying to yourself, in the end. Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said you liked things the way they were. Maybe there was one thing you wouldn’t mind changing, you thought as you looked away from Steve to look up at the fireworks now erupting in the sky above.

🎃🎃🎃

“I’m not sure I get it, Robin – who are you dressed as?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question, Nance? Marty McFly? Don’t tell me you still haven’t watched Back to the Future!”

“I didn’t have time.”

“In five years, you didn’t have time to watch a two-hour movie?”

“I work a lot, okay?!”

You were only half-listening to Robin and Nancy’s bickering as you finished getting ready for the Halloween party that your high school classmate Tina and her best friend Vicki Carmichael threw every year.

Usually, on the 31st of October, you would just crash at Steve and Eddie’s former apartment with the group, stuffing your face with popcorn and watching horror movies. But this year, the boys didn’t live at that apartment anymore and it was the last Halloween you’d all spend together in Hawkins before Jonathan and Nancy moved to Chicago next January. You all agreed it called for a memorable celebration, hence why you were now getting ready with the girls at your place.

“So, you mean to tell me you haven’t had time to watch Back to the Future, but you had it to watch all three Star Wars movies, judging on your costume?” Robin asked while Nancy grunted in frustration.

“I told you last week, me and Jonathan are wearing couple’s costumes – he’s Han Solo and I’m Princess Leia, obviously,” she explained while pointing at her long white dress and peculiar hairstyle.

“Couple’s costumes,” Robin repeated. “Kids these days, they’re just talking nonsense.”

“It’s romantic and fun, you’re just jealous you didn’t think about it for you and Vickie,” Nancy retorted as you were starting to think you were in the middle of playground taunts.

“Oh yeah, I should’ve asked Vickie to dress as Doc, it would’ve been crazy romantic,” Robin sassed.

Once the heels were at your feet, you turned around on your chair to stare at your friends.

“You two realize how stupid your fight is, right?” you chipped in.

“We’re not fighting,” Robin and Nancy said in unison.

You rolled your eyes and turned back around to face your vanity and finish your makeup, but it was too late – you had involuntarily drawn the attention to you.

“And who are you dressing as, hot stuff?” Nancy cooed while smirking at your reflection in the mirror.

You hummed the Dirty Dancing theme song to answer her question, and she nodded approvingly, taking in your pink dress and silver heels.

“I love it,” Nancy smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood up. “And you two look equally great, so stop biting each other’s heads off.”

“So, if you’re Jennifer Grey, does it mean Steve’s dressing as Patrick Swayze? I could see him pulling that off.”

Robin’s question took you aback for it came out of nowhere. You gaped at her, face warm and thoughts racing.

“Hmm, no, he’s not. That’d… be a great couple’s costume, for sure. But we’re not a couple, so…” you stammered, awfully self-conscious.

“Well, yeah, but you might as well be.”

“Robin,” Nancy reprimanded her with warning eyes.

“What??” Robin exclaimed while you watched, confused. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what I mean, it’s been going on for years, this… whatever this is. And honestly, we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see it.”

Nancy blushed, embarrassment written all over her face as she rubbed a hand over it.

“I don’t… understand,” you admitted, tugging at the hems of your dress to anchor yourself in the moment.

“There’s nothing to understand, babes,” Nancy said softly. “Robin was just joking. Right, Rob?”

Nancy was now glaring at Robin, who had no option but to concur. It felt like you were missing something there, and you didn’t like it. Were your friends talking behind your back? Were they annoyed at your relationship with Steve? Annoyed at the ambiguity, the unsaid, the attraction? Was it all that obvious as of late?

“I’m sorry, guys,” Robin said with a sigh. “I had a fight with Vickie earlier today and it messed me up a little bit.”

“Oh, babes,” Nancy softened, hugging Robin from the side.

“I know that’s no excuse for being a jerk,” Robin winced in your direction.

“You’re all right,” you said with a sympathetic smile, and both Robin and Nancy seemed relieved.

The three of you talked Robin through her problem until it was time to meet the guys outside. Nancy was the first to exit the apartment, but Robin lingered by the front door, hand hovering hesitantly above the handle. Eventually, she made up her mind and turned over to face you.

“I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for earlier,” Robin told you.

“It’s okay, Rob, I get it. You were upset about your fight with Vickie and said stuff you didn’t mean. It’s fine, it happens to all of us,” you said, wondering why Robin had felt the need to bounce back on that.

“No, but see, that’s the thing – I did mean it,” she contradicted. “I just didn’t say it like I should’ve.”

“And how should you say it?” you asked with a frown.

Robin looked uncertain now, fidgeting where she stood. You imagined that if Nancy were still in the room with you two, she’d probably give Robin an earful.

“When I said that we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see what there is between you and Steve, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she elaborated under your undivided attention. “It’s just… We’re your friends, and you know, as friends, we want what’s best for each other, I’m sure you feel that way about us too –“

“Robin, cut to the chase, please,” you interjected before she could lose herself in her explanation.

“We just think if you two admitted what you’re both obviously feeling for each other… You could be very happy together. And the rest of us would be too because damn, we’ve watched it happen since high school and it’s about time one of you does something about it, babes.”

You stared at the door behind Robin, wishing to run away from this conversation that was too much for you to handle. It was the first time one of your friends confronted you on the matter, upfront, and you had no idea how to react.

“I’m not expecting you to say anything, don’t worry,” Robin added. “I just wanted you to know what everyone else is thinking. Do what you want with that information.”

You opened your mouth to respond but you heard the distinctive sound of Eddie’s van parking on the street, your sign that it was time to go and end this conversation for good. You rushed to the door, opening it before Robin could and hurtling down the stairs to some extent on your heels. Once you were outside, you breathed in slowly, calming down and processing what one of your best friends had just confided to you.

You and Robin met Nancy on the curb as Eddie slid the van’s side door open to let you in the backseats.

“Evening, ladies,” Eddie greeted.

“Wow, you’re Elton!” Nancy exclaimed after studying Eddie’s costume, a white ensemble with feathers and glitter that was the singer’s signature.

“You could get that but not mine?!” Robin exclaimed, almost offended.

“Move on, Rob, and let’s have fun tonight,” Nancy teased her while sitting near Jonathan, dressed in the easily identifiable Han Solo outfit.

Robin took the passenger seat next to Eddie, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to Steve at the back of the van. Of course. Almost like it had been on purpose, you thought to yourself.

You settled next to him and you were almost insecure, something you’d never felt around him. You resented Robin for not knowing best, and not keeping her mouth shut.

“Hey, kitten,” Steve welcomed you as you smoothed the edges of your dress.

“Hey, Harrington,” you said in return, attempting to smile at him.

You studied his costume as he studied yours. Aviator sunglasses on his head, green jumpsuit, sleeves rolled back under his elbows – Maverick from Top Gun. You'd gushed over the character when the movie came out, and you wondered if it happened to be a funny coincidence or if Steve had picked that costume on purpose.

“Baby,” Steve suddenly said.

“What?” you choked out with widened eyes.

Steve frowned. “Your costume,” he clarified. “Baby from Dirty Dancing, right?”

You processed the information and chuckled awkwardly, feeling stupid. You let Robin get in your head and you hated it.

“Right,” you breathed out as Eddie drove away.

Something passed in Steve’s eyes, and you were not sure what it was. Hesitation, desire, resignation… You watched and waited, fingers laced on your lap, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

“You look… very nice,” Steve told you in a hushed voice.

You knew neither Nancy nor Jonathan could’ve heard it – they were engaged in a vivid conversation with Robin and Eddie in the front of the car. It was an intimate declaration, meant for you and you only.

Your lips parted subtly, but Steve’s eyes caught it regardless. It did not soothe the rate of your beating heart.

“Thanks,” you croaked it, throat tight. “You’re not too bad yourself."

Steve smiled briefly, then did the strangest thing. He leaned in, his face awfully close to yours, and you thought; this was it. He was going to kiss you. Right then, right there, in the back of Eddie’s van dressed as the guy from Top Gun on the way to a Halloween party.

And as much as you wanted him to kiss you, it wasn’t how you wanted him to do it. Not the place, not the time. Maybe Steve realized it too because he moved away as quickly as he had gotten closer to you, clearing his throat and watching out the window like nothing happened.

The party at Tina’s villa was loud, messy, and packed with former classmates – some you were glad to run into, others you made a strong case of avoiding. You had a nice chat with your high school sweetheart, even though you could feel Steve’s eyes on you the whole time. When you couldn’t bear the weight of his yearning gaze, you took a sip of that rum punch Vicki Carmichael had made – a few times.

You fled to the bathroom around eleven to freshen up and have some alone time. You were reasonably drunk, but still conscious enough to notice someone was already in the room when you barged into it.

“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t know someone was in there –”

You cut the apology short when you recognized the person’s reflection staring at you in the mirror.

“Becky, hi,” you said, surprised.

The girl greeted you back, the sound of your name imperceptible amid the party people shouting in the hallway. Now, you were reasonably drunk and very uncomfortable.

Becky was the last girl Steve had dated. They had been together for two years and seemed happy until Becky broke up with Steve overnight. Everyone assumed she’d probably met someone else, but you always felt like that was too simple and there was another more plausible explanation.

“You okay?” Becky asked you.

“Y – yeah, I just needed to cool off,” you mumbled.

You assumed Becky would urge you to clear off and leave her be, but instead, she stepped aside to give you some space in front of the sink.

You closed the door behind you and stood in front of the mirror, silently watching Becky perfect the mascara on her lashes. You quickly gathered she was dressed as Madonna in the Material Girl music video.

“It’s… been a while,” you said to break that awful silence. “What are you up to these days?”

“Small talk, huh? I thought we were way past that.”

You chuckled, ill at ease and too drunk to have a proper conversation. Out of all the girls Steve had dated, Becky was the one who unsettled you the most. You never knew what to expect of her.

“How’s Stevie?” Becky then asked before reapplying some lipstick.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Becky's inquiry, but something turned your stomach. You always hated it when she called Steve that name. It reminded you of a jealous version of yourself you’d rather leave in the past.

“He’s good,” you said casually, no matter your inner turmoil. “You know. Same old, same old.”

Becky’s lips turned into the semblance of a smile.

“I take it you two still aren’t together.”

You felt your heart drop at that comment. What did she mean, “still”? And what was up with everyone and their insights regarding your relationship with Steve?

“It sounded a lot less petty in my head, I promise,” Becky said when you stayed silent.

“It’s not that,” you replied. “I’m just… surprised you would say that.”

Becky sighed and turned around to face you. It looked like she was about to get a lot of things off her chest, and you were not sober enough for that.

“You know why I broke up with Steve?” Becky asked you, and she obviously wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Why all the girls he dates eventually break things off with him?”

You blinked. You didn’t want Steve’s ex-girlfriend to share that information with you. You had absolutely no desire to detain such knowledge. Yet, you shook your head, permitting Becky to say what she really thought, too curious to pretend you didn’t care.

“Because it’s painfully obvious he’s in love with you and we’re just here passing time until he finally has the balls to tell you.”

In love. You had thought about it all with Steve – he thinks I’m pretty; he’s attracted to me; he likes me more than a friend. But never in your wildest dreams had you dared fantasize about these powerful little words.

He’s in love with you, Becky’s voice repeated like a broken record on a loop in your mind. Taunting, hopeful, too good to be true.

You found yourself sitting on the bathtub’s edge, both arms at your side, speechless. Becky leaned against the wall across from you and chuckled like she'd just shared the funniest story.

“Don’t tell me this is shocking news.”

“I…” you started without finishing your thought. You were at a loss for words and your head started spinning, the fateful sentence seeping into your mind faster than the liquor in your system.

“Look, obviously, it wasn’t my place to tell, but you know, despite everything, I always liked you,” Becky confessed. “You were always nice to me, even though I could tell it was not easy for you.”

You lowered your eyes, apologetic. It was true – you had always been nice to Becky. After all, it wasn’t the girl’s fault if you had feelings you’d never dare confess to your best friend.

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Becky resumed. “I’m trying to help you two out. This whole faint-hearted act was probably cute when you were sixteen, but you’re adults now. Are you waiting for him to get married and start a family with someone else to tell him how you feel?”

The mere thought made your heart ache. You didn’t want to picture Steve married to someone else. It made you nauseous.

“Sorry, that was harsh,” Becky apologized.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked her in a whisper, feeling like your head was about to explode. “Why are you telling this to me and not him?”

Becky stared at you like you’d just said the most nonsensical thing.

“Because he’s an idiot and a coward. If you’re waiting for him to make a move, you’ll wait a long time, honey.”

You spaced out for a moment, and when you returned to your senses, Becky was gone, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts in that bathroom.

Becky was right. Steve was an idiot and a coward. The inebriation clouded all your good judgments, so you got to your feet and walked out of the bathroom to look for Steve. After everything that happened tonight, you were confused, upset, and even angry.

You found him outside by the pool, joking around with some guys from his old swim team in high school. You marched to him, bold and determined, and he didn’t notice you right away, so you hooked your fingers to the fabric around his arm and dragged him behind you. You ignored the guys whistling at you both or Steve protesting and asking what had gotten into you until you walked into an empty room on the side of the villa and closed the patio door behind you.

“Okay, what the hell was that about??” Steve exclaimed, his voice loud in the quiet of the room, away from the party noises and the music. “Have you lost your shit??”

“You’re an idiot,” you told him in an accusing tone.

“Tell me about it,” Steve sassed you.

“And a coward!”

“Oh, so you have a whole list, huh?”

“That’s what Becky said.”

Steve looked at you in silence, processing what you just said.

“Of course, you talked to Becky….” he sighed. “Let me guess – she said I stole her INXS tape? She needs to let it go, she clearly lost it, she can’t keep blaming me for –“

“I don’t want you to get married, Steve,” you interrupted him, blurting out what you had been obsessing about for the last ten minutes.

Steve froze and looked at you like you were insane. And you might just be, you realized. You took a step back, dizzy and embarrassed.

“I… was not planning on getting married any time soon. Where is that coming from?” Steve asked you, stepping toward you.

You bit your tongue, holding from saying another stupidity you’d immediately regret. Suddenly, your choice to confront Steve and isolate yourselves in a bedroom didn’t look like the brilliant plan it seemed to be five minutes ago.

“Forget it, I’m drunk, and I don’t know what I’m saying,” you stammered, head low as you walked toward the door.

“Hey,” Steve brought you short by taking your hand before you had the chance to leave. His touch was tender, your hand fit perfectly in his, and you understood what Becky meant when she said "still not together".

“Talk to me,” Steve urged, lacing his fingers with yours. It was unbearable, how natural it felt. “You used to tell me everything, and now, I have no idea what’s up with you anymore.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wishing you could go back in time and stop yourself from putting the two of you in this awful situation.

“Come on, kitten, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

Friends. You loathed the word that normally comforted you. You couldn’t stand to hear it.

He’s in love with you. How could he say you were friends when he was the one you called first when your car broke down, when he’d snuck out of college to comfort you after you got dumped by your ex-boyfriend, when he drove you across the country to see your sick grandfather for the last time? How did he have the audacity to minimize what you meant to each other after taking such a significant place in your heart for years and years?

“We’re not friends,” you mumbled.

You looked at him and thought you could see heartbreak in his eyes. You’d hurt him. You’d hurt him badly.

“We’re not?” he asked, his voice breaking in the inflection.

You held your breath as Steve questioned you with glistening eyes. He didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him, and it was killing you.

“You know what I mean,” you breathed out, unable to say the actual words.

He’s in love with you. It was so simple. Why couldn’t he just admit it?

You’re in love with him too, why can’t you say it?  you admitted to yourself.

Because no, it wasn’t that simple. Steve wasn’t the only coward in this situation. After all these years, it was so scary to admit, even more to say out loud. How could you expect him to say it when you were terrified of doing it yourself?

Eventually, Steve let go of your hand, an almost insignificant gesture that shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“Actually… No. I don’t know what you mean,” he said, defeated, before leaving the room.

You did it. You ruined everything, you thought as you sat on the floor and cried your heartbreak away.

🎁🎁🎁

It was supposed to be the merriest day of the year, with children's laughter filling the air and countless presents to unwrap. Yet, your heart was not in it, and you had to hold back tears during dinner that night at your parents’ house.

You hadn’t talked to or heard from Steve in almost two months, and it was officially the longest you’d spent without seeing each other. The thought was excruciating. He was your best friend in the entire world, you were head over heels in love with him, and the absence of him was like gasping for air on the verge of drowning.

But today was a merry day. Today was all about spending time together, eating a nice homemade meal, and reuniting. So, you played the part – you ate dinner, played board games with your cousins, and chatted with your uncles and aunts. You did what you were expected to do, and nothing more.

When you returned to your place, to your sad and lonely apartment, you sat down on the floor, still in your red party dress, back to your couch with a glass of wine, and flipped through a photo album Nancy and Jonathan had given you for your twenty-fifth birthday.

It was a recollection of happy times Jonathan had captured with his camera throughout the years – from graduating high school to renting your first crappy apartment, taking your first trip to New York with the group, and celebrating various occasions with them.

You took the last photo from the album, holding it between your fingers to get a closer look. It was a picture of you and Steve on New Year’s Eve the year before. You were posing for the camera, smiling from ear to ear. You were looking at the lens, but Steve only had eyes for you, holding you in his arms with rosy cheeks. When you looked at it like that, in retrospect and from another’s perspective, it seemed so evident that the guy in the picture loved the girl posing next to him.

You were fully crying now, blurry eyes and stuffy nose in contradiction with the holiday spirit. You were about to put the picture away in the album when something in the back of it caught your eye.

There was a note in the handwriting you would recognize anywhere at any given time – Steve’s. Your heart skipped a beat. It had gone unnoticed the first time you’d looked through the album at your birthday party and none of your friends had mentioned a thing about it. You started to look at a handful of pictures to see if others had something hidden on the other side, but they were all blank. All except for one.

You took a deep breath, pondering. Maybe Nancy and Jonathan were unaware of it, but Steve not saying anything didn’t make sense. This note had been there, forgotten in an album gathering dust in your bookcase, for months, and it could’ve gone on for years had you not felt nostalgic on that specific day.

You wondered if you should read it or pretend you’d never seen it. It was only a few words; they were probably some meaningless inside jokes or more personal birthday wishes. But they could also be something more, much more.

You knew you couldn’t live with the uncertainty, so you gathered your courage and read.

Happy birthday, kitten! Don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I want you to know you’re my favorite person in the entire world, and I love you. Yours always, Steve PS: stop being a sourpuss just ‘cause you turned 25

It had been there. Right there, under your nose, all along. Yours always.

Before you could think it through, your coat was around your shoulders and you were behind the wheel, ready to drive to Steve’s place and tell him how you felt. Screw the stability and the uncertainty – you loved the boy too and you needed to tell him tonight.

It was past midnight, the air was cold and the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the pavement as you drove a little too fast toward Steve’s building. Your heart was racing in your chest, anticipation mingling with excitement while you rehearsed what you’d say in your head.

You were going to confess your true feelings to Steve. Nothing could scare you anymore.

Except, perhaps, the ominous sputtering sound your car made when you tried to restart at a traffic light.

“No, no, no, no, no, come on, not now!!” you begged desperately.

The ignition wouldn’t turn over, and you could’ve screamed at the sky. Was it some sort of cosmic sign preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life?

You got out of the car to check the engine under the hood. When you opened it, it did something it’d never done before – it gave off fumes.

You coughed violently as you stepped away from the car, looking all around you and realizing you were alone on the street in the middle of the night with a kaput car and wasted opportunities.

“This is a nightmare,” you told yourself out loud. “This can’t be happening to me.”

Your eyes burned as you were about to cry again, disheartened and pathetic. Then, some headlights on the other side of the road caught your attention.

A maroon car stopped next to you and turned the ignition off. You held your breath, recognizing the vehicle instantly and wondering if the universe wouldn’t happen to be messing with you.

The driver exited the car and eyed yours up and down before chuckling.

“I had a feeling Gina wouldn’t make it through the year,” he said.

You laughed, the sound choked up in your throat at the improbability of the situation. You couldn’t believe Steve was there, rescuing you even without meaning to, always being there when you needed him to, the constant one in your life. As luck would have it, you thought.

“What are you doing here this late at night?” you asked him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a smile.

You returned his smile, nervously fixing your hair. The wind was rising, and the air was filled with change and expectations.

“I was… on my way to your place, actually,” you explained, somehow shyly. “I wanted to talk to you.”

A few seconds passed until Steve spoke again like he was processing the information. “That’s funny, I was on my way to your place too.”

You swallowed, unable to stop hoping. “You were?”

“Yeah… Of course, I was,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and I realized I never got a chance to give you your present because we weren't speaking to each other, so… Anyways, I can just give it to you now.”

“We’re literally in the middle of the road, Steve.”

He looked around at the empty and silent street for good measure. “Yeah, and it’s not like it’s rush hour right now, I think we’re good.”

You opened your mouth to retort but opted against saying anything else. It was your first interaction with him in weeks, it was out of the question to ruin it just to have the last word.

The young man got something from the backseat of his car and immediately handed it to you. You took it carefully, turning it over in your hand to try and figure out what was beneath the wrapping paper.

“I… don’t have your gift,” you admitted, crestfallen. “I mean, I did get you something, but I didn’t think to give it to you tonight.”

“It’s okay, kitten. Just open it.”

You complied, slowly unwrapping the paper with trembling fingers and shortness of breath as Steve observed quietly.

You were now looking at a book’s front cover, and it might’ve seemed unremarkable at first glance, but it was not some common paperback.

“First limited edition,” Steve explained, even though you already knew. “You talked about it at Eddie’s place a couple of months ago, that it was almost impossible to find today, and you’d love to have it. So, I went to every bookstore in town to ask if they knew where to get it, and one of them gave me their counterpart's number from England, they had to send it all the way here but… Yeah,” Steve concluded, face red and hands in his pocket. “I found it.”

You looked up from the book to lock eyes with Steve. He seemed expectant and abashed, almost anxious of your reaction.

“You went to all this trouble for me?” you asked in disbelief.

He pursed his lips and nodded as if it was that obvious.

“You’re well worth the trouble.”

All this time, you had expected blatant signs, big gestures, and declarations, when Steve had been telling you how he felt in his own way for years. It had always been there – in fleeting touches, longing stares, and understated actions.

“I read it,” you eventually confessed.

"The book?" Steve asked, puzzled.

“No," you laughed. "The note you wrote in my photo album. I read it tonight.”

You noticed the way Steve held his breath at that revelation. Suddenly, you no longer cared that you were standing in the middle of the road with your dead car by your side. Suddenly, all that mattered was the pretty boy standing before you and what you felt for him.

“It was corny, right?” Steve said with a nervous laugh. “I know you don’t like it when it’s corny but –“

“Can’t you just be serious for one minute, Harrington?” you cut him short with an amused eye roll. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel here.”

“I know,” Steve breathed out. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months now, but I never find the right words.”

In the elation of the moment, your words got a mind of their own, and you heard yourself saying: “Show me, then.”

Friends. A designation you held onto for the past eight years, a status that put things into perspective whenever Steve introduced a new girlfriend to the group, a word that freed you of your guilt when getting into relationships yourself, a term that helped you when you would yearn for something more, something you thought to be unrealistic and unreachable.

That word no longer held any power over you now that you were in Steve Harrington’s arms and he leaned in to seal his lips with yours into a long-awaited and overdue kiss, the promise of a cherished and beautiful future.

You'd envisioned the scene time and time again in your mind, but none of the imaginary scenarios your fantasies created could measure up to that kiss. It was sweet, yet demanding, like you were the air he needed to breathe. He kissed you like he loved - sincerely, tenderly, and intensely. You smiled against his mouth, and your heart melted when he did it too.

When you parted from him, lips swollen and eyelashes fluttering, you felt like everything was finally right and mourned the time you wasted being scared of changes.

“So… What now?” you whispered, getting a strand of hair out of Steve’s face to look at him better.

The boy held your gaze, enamored and enraptured like you’d never seen him before. You enjoyed it while it lasted because it was a momentary bliss until reality caught up.

“Well, first, we’re going to call a tow truck," Steve said as he entwined his fingers with yours. "And then, you’ll bid farewell to Gina,” he nodded toward the car.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about your car. It was truly ironic, how you needed to say goodbye to your oldest partner while embracing a new beginning with your best friend.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?” you asked while batting your lashes at him.

“Hey, just because we’re going to make out a lot from now on doesn’t mean you get to do that,” Steve jokingly scolded you while gesturing at your face.

“Do what?” you asked, coy and amused.

Steve laughed and put his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, kitten, I’m taking you home.”

At first, it didn’t feel like much had changed between you and Steve. You were still teasing each other, spending time with the group before Nancy and Jonathan’s departure, and arguing about what car you should buy now that Gina was in a junkyard.

But things had changed for the better, and you realized it on New Year’s Eve when Steve kissed you at midnight, as he would for many new years to come.

❤️❤️❤️

[poisonofthepaint]

Day After Tomorrow - Part Three

a/n: this is the final part!! i really loved writing this story and i love jack so pls send in some ideas for him. hope u love it baiii

pt 1 pt 2

18+!!!!!! MDNI

content warning: age gap, awkward reader a little. oral (r!receiving), nipple sucking, p in v sex, i really don't know what else but this is pretty filthy LOL. i didn't have a lot of time to proofread so forgive me pls <3

Saying you were nervous for your date was an understatement. You’ve had your share of first dates, but you were certainly rusty at the moment. You’ve always been too busy to really deal with your love life. Between school, and your absurd hours at work, it only really left you about two hours a day of free time to yourself. And God, you were not gonna let some random person get in the way of those two hours.

But Jack wasn’t a boy. He was a man. He was a grown man. With a stable job, and a 401k, and real insurance, definitely not his parents. And at this point, you were quite scared the age gap was going to be a problem. You were mostly scared you were going to say something stupid in front of him. You knew you were far from unintelligent. You excelled in your degree, you had a lot of common sense, and humor! Which is proven to show intelligence. But in all honesty, you haven’t taken a science class since your freshman year of undergrad. The information from anatomy class had fallen so far out of your brain you’re pretty sure it still haunted your first dorm room. You didn’t know how to talk about his line of work with him, you didn’t know anything about emergency medicine. And that scared you, deeply. You have been so wrapped up in your philosophy groups, where everyone always knew what the other was talking about, that you weren’t sure how to learn something brand new anymore.

Maybe that was the most exciting part, though. The idea of opposites attract, like the movies. Yeah, it was exciting, not nerveraking. You had read recently that anxiousness and excitement caused the same physical symptoms, so you tried to trick your brain into being excited. You were excited. You had been looking forward to seeing him since he sent the first text. 

You texted back right away, of course, telling him that you’d be delighted to accompany him to dinner. He asked for your address, and said he’d pick you up, which was the most gentleman-like act you’ve experienced in years. Or so you thought, because before you know it, there’s three small raps at your door. You check your phone, seeing the time is 5:47. There’s also a text from Jack saying that he was on his way, you had missed it in your whirlwind of getting ready. You move towards the door quickly, turning the creaky knob. 

He looks good— unreasonably good. He has on a tight fitted black henley, a pair of nice, fitted jeans, and some black tennis shoes. You don’t know how casual attire makes him look so sexy, but it does.  A silver chain glints in the light, and you think you may faint. You’re so taken aback by his attractiveness, you don’t even see the bouquet of tulips that he’s holding out to you.

Jack stands there, letting you take him in. He's got a smug little smile on his face. “Hi there. These are for you. I was hoping you would just have a vase?” 

You nod, words not forming quite yet. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.

“Yes! Sorry, yes, yes, come in. Excuse the mess.” your apartment was spotless, but it just felt like the right thing to say. It’s what people said when they had guests, and your dialogue was being reduced to factory settings. 

“Nice apartment,”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad.” you grab a vase from under the sink, filling it up halfway with water. You make quick work of cutting the stems off the tulips before plopping them in the water.

“Are you ready to go after that?”

Your heart thumps in your chest, so hard you can feel it in your throat. “Yeah, I am.”

“You’re less talkative today,” he says. Not prying, just observing. He looks at you like he’s assessing you for symptoms.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe you’re standing in my apartment.”

He smiles, “Still think you’re dreaming me up?”

“Maybe a little,”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you how real I am tonight.”

You gulp at the innuendo, unsure if it was even supposed to be an innuendo, but that's definitely the way you were taking it.

Jack catches your eyes and nods his head towards the door before walking over, leading the way. You follow his suit instinctively. 

His car is a nice, black truck, and the inside is spotless. Not that you thought it would be dirty, but it’s unrealistically clean. Almost like he just bought it. You hear a soft talking over the radio, no, it’s something else.

He sees you trying to locate the noise, “It’s a police scanner, if there’s an emergency coming into the hospital I like to know so I can go help.” he blinks at you, recognizes the words coming out of his mouth, “Does that make me a crazy workaholic?”

You belly laugh, “God, no, I mean if people need help, it’s good you want to help.”

“I do like to help.”

“You really love it, don’t you?”

“I do, I think what I do is some of the most important work in the world, and I’m good at it. And I like being good at things.”

You hum in response, “Definitely very important work,”

“What do you like about philosophy?”

“I just think it’s an interesting study on human nature. I like applying philosophies I agree with to my personal life, or putting them on other people. I like sharing how to think one way instead of another. I just like to think, maybe.” you say, frazzled. No one really asks you why philosophy. They just hear that it’s your degree, and move on.

“I like that. The world needs more people who fucking think.” he says. His eyes are glued to the road, he has one hand on the wheel, and one resting on the gear shift. His fingers softly tap to their own rhythm.

“How many stupid people do you deal with in a day?” 

“More than I would like to admit. I’m sure you get your fair share.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to treat them for six hours while they tell me I’m wrong about life saving practices.”

He nods sharply, “This period of time is certainly an interesting one. I don’t know why half of them even come in, they just sit there and refuse treatment.”

You shake your head, “I change my answer. I’m getting a philosophy degree so I don’t have to deal with the general public.” 

It’s his turn to belly laugh, “I don’t blame you, kid.”

You get dizzy from the nickname. The car settles into a comfortable silence. You continue your drive until you pull into a small, nice Italian restaurant.

Jack puts the car in park. You go to reach for the handle and he scoffs, “Stay in.”

He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. You want to cry, you still think he’s fake. You get out, try to pretend like your hands aren’t shaking. He closes the door behind you, then grabs your hand. The contact sends sparks right up your arm, just like the first time he grabbed the coffee up from you. You thought shit like that was fake, but it was real, this was real.

The dinner goes perfectly. The conversation flows. Jack is a lot less abrupt when he’s not in the middle of a shift. He tells you stuff about his personal life, about his parents, and even a little bit about the war. He talks to you about medical supplies he thinks are changing the future. And he lets you talk. He genuinely cares what you have to say. He never looks at you like your degree is anything less than his. He even looks blown away at some things. The owner of the restaurant comes over at one point. You learn that he and Jack served together. You feel honored to meet someone Jack knows already. The date is all you could have wished for– it was better than a dream. Jack was real, and he enjoyed your company. You could tell on his face. The creases between his eyebrows went away, and his smile lines got deeper. He was mysterious when you met him, but now, you felt like you already knew him, and how to read him.

The drive home is equally perfect. Jack cracks the windows a little, letting in fresh air. You feel the wind hit your hair lightly. He won’t stop looking over at you. His hand twitches towards you on the gear shift, and you reach out for it without thinking. He glances down, and then back up at you. He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. You rest your sewn together hands on your lap, studying his rough hand. 

Of course, he walks you to your door. You lead the way, and you can hear him trailing behind you, slowly, cautiously. 

You unlock the door and turn to look at him, “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he smiles.

You linger in the doorway, not wanting the night to end. “Did you have a good time?”

His eyes soften at you, “Yeah, I had a real good time. Best time in a while.” Your breathing falters. “I’d really like to kiss you.” Jack says.

You still, then nod, you can tell your eyes are wide and glazed over. 

“I’m gonna need some words, sweetheart.” 

“I would like that.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He approaches you. Grabs your cheek, gives it a gentle rub with his thumb before leaning down. He lets his nose rest on yours for a second, taking you in. He’s so close, his chest bumps yours when he breathes in. He closes his eyes and closes the space between you. It’s soft at first, it’s kind. It’s– alert. You can’t help yourself. You need more. You make the move to deepen it and that’s all he needs. He presses into you, so hard that you enter your apartment. He’s so fucking smooth, you can’t stand it. You try not to think about all the practice he’s had, probably before you were even a concept in your parents head. He closes the door with his back before spinning you around and pushing you against the wooden entrance. You grab his face, pulling away from him. Jack chases your lips, but when you turn away, he starts placing soft kisses on your neck instead. 

“I want you to know,” you say panting, “I never do this on the first date.”

He chuckles into you, “This is our third date.”

“What?” you say, breathless, because he’s kissing a tender spot right under your jaw that’s driving you crazy. 

“Those times I saw you at the coffee shop. Those were our first dates.” You know he’s just talking to make you feel better, but it’s definitely working. “Don’t worry about it, no judgement here.” 

“You got it, Doc.” Jack stills. You think you fucked it. You curse yourself for making the corny joke.

He removes himself from your neck. Standing back to his full height. You try to not make eye contact, but his eyes chase yours, forcing you to. “Do you know how fucking crazy it makes me when you call me that.”

“No,” you choke out. 

“I’ve never even been into that. Never cared. But the first time you called me that, I almost broke. I thought about it the rest of the day.”

“And the second time?” you quip, playing into his games.

He shakes his head, places his forehead on your chest, “Killing me, baby.”

You look down, and see how hard he is. His bulge is straining against his jeans. 

He stands up again, “What do you wanna do, huh? Wanna keep playing games, or you wanna let me get you off?” 

The bluntness of his statement– and eagerness– makes you feel like your heart has dropped to the bottom of your stomach. “The latter,”

“Say it,” he says.  You shift on your feet, look straight down into the carpet. “I’m not gonna do it until you say it.”

“I want you to get me off.”

“Yeah, you do.” He kisses you again, deep, and hard. Your tongues clash. “Bedroom?” he asks.

You push off the door and start leading him to the back corner of the apartment. You thank yourself for picking up all the outfit options that you previously had sprawled on the ground. 

You let yourself fall onto the bed, moving back until your head hits the headboard. Jack doesn’t miss a beat, he follows you all the way back, never removing his lips from yours. He settles his hips between yours, and you feel the bulge instead of seeing it. He softly grinds into you, just once, just to make sure you know how you’re making him feel. He has a hand gently resting on your throat, just to stabilize himself. You remove it and lead it down, you put it under the dress you had on. You knew you were soaked through, and this is how you were gonna show him what he was doing to you. 

He groans into your mouth, “I have to taste you.”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t ask for words this time, just settles himself onto his stomach. You move down on the bed so your head can rest on the pillows. He doesn’t bother taking off your dress, just bunches it above your hips. He stares for a second, taking in the wet spot on your panties. Your hand moves an inch, going to take them off, but Jack grabs your wrist, presses it into the bed. He leans in and puts his tongue flat on you, through your underwear. 

“Shit!” you squeak. Your ears ring. Fucking doctors, of course he’d be able to find the clit while you had underwear on, while everyone else you’ve been with, you’ve had to show them. 

He grunts into you. Like he’s going crazy himself. Finally, he taps your hips, signalling for you to lift them. Of course, you do. “Already so good at following orders.”

The dominance leaking from his voice sends a wave of arousal through you. You imagined he would want to be in charge in bed, but he was so confident about it. It wasn’t shit he learned from watching too much porn— fake dominance that’s played up for the video. It was natural, it was who he was. 

You can’t find words to answer him, you just keep following his orders, trying to make him proud.

“Y’sure you want this?” Jack triple checks. 

“Please,” you’re breathless, already fucked out just from kissing him. 

He doesn’t say anything, just places his tongue flat on your pussy, licking a long strip all the way to the top.

You moan, louder than your neighbors would prefer. Jack is so good at it, you go back to thinking you’re dreaming. It’s absurd how good it feels. He knows all the right spots to hit, all the places only you could ever find. But he found them, and he’s claiming them. You feel like you’re becoming his. He teases a digit at your entrance and you preen, giving him permission. He sinks it in and curls it. He sets a steady pace that falls in alignment with how vigorously he’s eating you out. 

You already feel yourself getting close. You’ve never come this fast before— ever. Not even when you were doing it yourself. You can’t believe Jack is gonna beat your personal best. 

“You’re close,” he says into you. The vibrations go all the way up from your pussy to your brain. 

“Yes, I don’t know how, but yes. Please, I wanna come.” you ramble.  

“Give it to me, I wanna see you fall apart, honey.” He adds a second finger and your back arches up off the mattress.

You squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see white instead of black. He works you all the way through your orgasm, “That’s it, good girl. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open. This man and his need for eye contact. He wants to see everything. He wants to read you. And he does. His brows furrow at your face. He looks down at your body. Still in that dress that drove him crazy when you opened the door. 

He’s still letting his fingers pump inside of you when you come back to Earth. He stills them and pulls them out. You whine a little, he shushes you.

He makes sure you’re watching when he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking off the juices he just got out of you. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Your face goes hot, you try to look away but Jack’s too quick, again. It’s like he knows what you’re gonna do before you do it. He grabs your jaw. “Haven’t you figured out I wanna see you?”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Then stop running.”

You huff out a breath. You lean up to kiss him again and he lets you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s hotter than you thought it could be. You’re under his spell. Hopefully he really likes you, because you think you might follow him around forever now. 

You give up being coy, “I need you. Please, I need you, Jack.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. Don’t worry, honey,” he says.

You sit up and pull your dress over your head, unclasping your bra after. Jack takes his shirt off too. You lay back down and let your legs fall open. He hesitates before taking off his pants. You can sense he’s nervous. He takes the jeans off, and you see it. He looks at you, like he expects you to run. Like he expects the worst.

“Please,” is all you say. And that’s all it takes. Jack takes off his boxers, and his cock slaps up onto his stomach. It’s so long, the tip hits right below his belly button. 

He climbs up onto the bed, your legs open wider for him. You throw Jack a condom from your bedside table and he puts it on quickly. He lines himself up, the tip kisses your entrance. Jack comes up to where your head is, pressing his forehead against yours. He breathes into the space between you for a second, then, he sinks in.

It’s deep, really deep. So fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He strokes so that he hits your g-spot, and he can tell he got it by the way you moan. It was more a sob, really He places his mouth on your nipple, slightly tugging with his teeth. He plays with it for a while before giving the other one the same attention. All while not breaking his pace. It felt so, fucking, good. 

“So good, it feels so good.” you decide to tell him, to talk. You wanted to hear his voice.

“You feel so good. You’re sucking me in, baby. God, this pussy is even better than I imagined.” His chain dangles in your face, and you think you might be getting hypnotized.

“You thought about this?” you ask, trying to conceal your need for praise.

“For the past week, I’ve fucking thought about sinking my cock into you. You’re so beautiful. You’re so funny, and smart. You’ve got it all, baby. You’ve fucking got it all.”

The words send you reeling, “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither.” He grunts. 

His head falls into your neck. He places a deep kiss there, leans up to your ear. “Come around my cock, sweetheart.”

You weren’t one to disobey his orders. You come for the second time that night and Jack follows. He groans into you and lets his chin hit your shoulder. “Fuck,”

You both stay there like that for a while. Sweating, panting, coming down from the high of your life. 

“I’m gonna pull out, okay?” 

You nod, let him do whatever he wants. You’re so fucked out you don’t know if you can even open your eyes. 

He tosses the condom into the small trash bin beside your closet and grabs his boxers off the floor, putting them on before laying down beside you. 

You look over and smile at him. You can’t stop smiling actually, or giggling. 

Jack brushes your hair out of your face, “What’s so funny, hm?”

“That was so fucking good.” 

Jack laughs, loudly. The loudest you’ve heard his laugh yet. “Yeah, it was so fucking good.” 

You start to get shy, the highness of your orgasm wearing off, “I’d like to see you again, if you want.”

“Oh, honey. After that? You’re never getting rid of me.”

[sanjisleggy]

this love of mine (trafalgar law x reader) [pt1]

summary: Trafalgar Law’s sudden discovery of your past ties to Straw Hat Luffy and Fire Fist Ace leaves his emotions in shambles

a/n: it’s my first time writing for Law and i’m a bit nervous but imma try my best!! i’m basing my interpretation of his personality on his appearance so far in punk hazard + some fics i’ve read of him before ;;0;; i’ve been struggling with this for like almost 3 days now so imma split this into 2 parts and hope the second part isn’t as tough to write :’D 

contents: set during Sabaody Archipelago arc w/ spoilers (?) from Luffy’s childhood, Luffy’s older sister!reader, Law has to deal with his feelings and is a Mess, Ace is causing trouble without even being physically present, jealousy, insecurity, angst

wc. 1.5k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 2

i. 

as Trafalgar Law watches the infamous Straw Hat captain sucker punch a Celestial Dragon, the very last thing he expects to hear is you shouting the boy’s name.

“Luffy?!” you nearly scream, jumping out of your seat beside your captain. all of the eyes that were initially glued to the ruckus now turn to you, including that of Monkey D. Luffy; and it isn’t lost on Law how the furious scowl on the younger man’s face almost instantly morphs into a giant smile.

“(Y/N)!” Luffy yells in return as he waves his arms around wildly. “i can’t believe you’re here! you made it, too!!”

Law is vaguely aware of Shachi and Penguin whispering animatedly to each other behind him but he can’t really be bothered to listen to them right now, not when you so recklessly leap into action once the fighting begins.

he and Bepo watch silently as you strike guard after guard with your signature weapon–a long metal pipe–while you move in tandem with Straw Hat Luffy. it’s almost seamless, the way he and you work around each other’s moves, as if the other’s fighting pattern is almost engraved into your very muscles.

“woah, what the hell?” Shachi comments aloud. “i never knew (Y/N) was friends with Straw Hat. did you, captain?” Law only manages a loose shake of his head, a million thoughts running through his mind as he continues to observe how different you seem as you fight beside Luffy.

in all the years Law has known you, you’ve always struck him as a level-headed fighter and an overall extremely calm and collected person–it’s one of the many reasons he fell for you to begin with. and yet here you are, having leapt into action seemingly without a second thought, all for a boy Law didn’t even know you were associated with until right now.

“you guys don’t think she hid this from us on purpose, right?” Penguin suggests in a tone tinged with slight embarrassment, as though uncomfortable at the idea of even thinking you’d been wilfully hiding something from everyone.

“no… she must’ve had a reason…” Bepo replies, idly hugging Law’s sword as his eyes continue to trace your movements at the front of the auction house. he winces when you land a particularly harsh blow against one of the Celestial Dragon’s guards.

as the conversation awkwardly dies out, Law can’t help but feel the eyes of his crewmates looking his way almost expectedly. he doesn’t blame them, after all, it’s no secret you’ve been dating for quite a while now. if anyone was to be the most shocked at this discovery, it’d have to be him.

“and here i was thinking you were never gonna wake up,” an unfamiliar voice spoke as Law’s eyes fluttered open. head spinning, he groaned and tried to rub his face with his hands, only to wince when a sharp pain bloomed over his palms. “your hands got burned a bit. i don’t think they’ll scar but you shouldn’t try to move them so much for now.”

“who are you?” he croaked as he blinked away the blurriness in his vision and was greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar room. “where am i?”

“i’m (Y/N) and i don’t know where we are,” you replied simply. “all i know is that you almost died and i saved your life.”

“why?”

“do i need a reason?”

the sudden sound of a gunshot tears across the auditorium and is followed by a cacophony of gasps as all eyes turn to the stage where just mere seconds ago, one of the Celestial Dragons stood with a gun pointed at a mermaid. 

Law feels his heart sink when he realises what you’ve done.

standing on wobbly knees, you let your pipe fall to the ground with a loud clang. before you lies the unconscious body of a lady Celestial Dragon with her gun now sitting a few metres away from her unmoving hand. 

you’d moved without thinking after seeing the way Luffy and his crewmates shouted when the mermaid’s life was put in danger. the dots connected in your head and it gave you all the reason you needed to risk it all for his friend.

he is, after all, your beloved baby brother.

“(Y/N)!” two distinct voices cry your name at the same time as blood begins to pour out of your stomach, the warm red liquid seeping through your fingers as you clutch your wound in vain. out of the corner of your eye, you can see Luffy sprinting towards you but out of instinct, you scan the scattering crowd in search of your captain. 

the moment your eyes meet, you’re shambled into his arms. 

“what’s the matter with you?!” Law hisses under his breath before he lays you down carefully on the ground. “you’re never this reckless. why’d you–”

“hey! you!” Luffy barks, pointing a finger in your partner’s direction. in true Luffy-fashion, he completely ignores the countless guards and marines as they continue to charge towards him, only to get beaten down by his crewmates before they can even get close. “give me my big sister back!”

“SISTER?!” exclaims a chorus of voices, a combination of his crew and your own.

you can only manage a sheepish smile when Law glances down at you with a flabbergasted look on his face.

ii.

“you should join my crew.” he’d spoken so casually, as though such a proposition wasn’t potentially life-changing for a lone wolf like yourself. 

after you managed to find his crew mates and lead them back to your temporary hideout, you’d been invited onto their submarine with the offer to drop you off anywhere you’d like. unable to think of any place in particular, you decided to stick around for a bit and before you knew it almost six months had passed by.

“i mean, you’ve stuck around this long,” Law continued after realising you weren’t going to respond any time soon, “you must trust us to some capacity, right?” 

he’d hit the bullseye without even trying. 

you liked the Heart Pirates, you really did, but your journey from the very day you departed from your home island was wrought with hurt and betrayal. after countless encounters with scummy captains and their shitty crews, you swore you’d go solo until you could find one of your brothers again. it didn’t matter which: Ace, Sabo or Luffy. 

they were the only ones you could trust, after all.

the commotion dies down after a strong wave of Haki washes over the room, followed by the thuds of countless unconscious bodies unceremoniously hitting the ground. everyone turns their attention to the culprit–everyone except you and the man currently patching you up.

kneeling over you, Law silently sanitises and bandages your gunshot wound after ensuring there wasn’t any fragments left in your flesh. he’d been deadly quiet after Luffy announced to the world his ties to you as your brother and you aren’t entirely sure if this is the regular Law kind of quiet or the bad kind of quiet. something in you heart says it’s the latter and yet your boyfriend tends to your wounds so tenderly, as if he isn’t upset in the slightest.

once he’s done, he even helps you to your feet slowly and carefully, though still not saying a single word. 

after a while of watching the Straw Hats speak to an old man who showed up out of nowhere, Luffy comes running your way. it isn’t lost on you how Law’s shoulders tense up in response as he inches closer towards you until the back of his hands brushes against yours. 

“(Y/N)!” he laughs before throwing himself against you and pulling you into a tight hug. although it really hurts your wound, you can’t help but smile as he nuzzles his cheek affectionately against yours. “i’ve missed you so much! i can’t believe you’re here of all places! did you see my wanted poster? i have a super awesome crew now, you should meet them–”

Law observes as the Straw Hat captain yaps endlessly whilst you gaze down at him with a softness in your eyes your boyfriend foolishly thought had always been reserved solely for him.

“oh! and i met Ace in Alabasta and he told me to give this to you if i ever see you,” Luffy says as he rummages through his pockets before pulling out a ring strung on a chain. “Ace also told me to tell you that he misses you lots and hopes to see you again soon!”

Ace? surely it’s not Fire Fist Ace? what connection do you have with him, of all people? what else have you been keeping from me?

though, now that he thinks about it, Law never would’ve expected you to be siblings with Straw Hat Luffy, who’s to say you aren’t associated with other infamous pirates? since the day you agreed to be his girlfriend, he’d been under the impression he knows who you are, as you do with him, but now he’s not so sure anymore. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade

[calypsocolada]

how they kissed you for the first time... ft. soshiro, gen, & kafka

authors note: kaiju no. 8 is addictive. i bought the first manga then proceeded to buy the next nine. i'm obsessed with these three <3

cw: light violence

wc: 2.8k

click here for my masterlist

“Burning the midnight oil?” A familiar voice asked. You practically jumped out of your skin as you spun around in your wooden chair. Vice Captain Hoshina was comfortably leaning against the door to the library, eyes amusedly taking you in. 

“Vice Captain!” You gasped, holding a hand over your heart as you quickly gathered up your things. “I-- I apologize, sir.” Hoshina chuckled playfully, pushing off the door as he approached your table.

“No need to apologize, cadet. But you do know sleeping is a part of the job too.”

“I know. I’m just… not tired. Thought I would study a bit.” You responded as Hoshina snickered slightly. He ruffled your hair.

“This late? You’re a real overachiever aren’t you?” He teases as you fix your hair, blushing slightly.

“I just like to be prepared, that's all.” You huffed slightly as Hoshina leaned against the desk beside you, he looked down at you.

“You say you’re not tired but look moments away from falling asleep.” He points out.

“Well… maybe it is getting a little late.” 

Hoshina chuckled again, that same smug look on his face. He nodded, a small hint of concern in his expression. “Yeah, it is. And you should be in bed like everyone else. Besides-”

He stood up straight and pushed himself off the desk, crossing his arms and towering over you for a moment. He returned to his playful smirk and spoke. “-We have drills tomorrow and I can’t have you falling asleep during it, can I?”

No, sir.” You responded, turning and hiding the blush on your face. He chuckled softly and gave you a smug smirk, he was an observant person so of course he saw your blush before you could hide it. 

“Don’t act so embarrassed, I’m just looking out for you.” He chuckled again and that damn smirk grew slightly.

“I’m going, sir.” You answered quickly, loading yourself with books. Hoshina watched you amused until you dropped one. He caught it with ease, cocking his head.

“Do you really need all of these?” He asked as you pouted slightly. 

“I only have the hold on these books for two more days.” You said as he sighed softly, reaching and grabbing over half of what you were holding. 

“Lead the way.” He said as you nodded your head, walking out of the library and down the dark halls of the agency. Your room was a short walk and when you arrived you quickly unlocked the door and Hoshina followed you in, placing your books on your desk.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just us, you can call me Soshiro.” Hoshina said over his shoulder. You froze, staring at his back as he straightened, his eyes taking in your private quarters. You jumped when your door fell shut behind you and when you turned back Hoshina was looking at you. A smug and satisfied look on his devilishly handsome features. “Go on, I give you permission.” Your mouth goes dry, your lips parting but no sound comes out. He laughs then. He knew the effect he had on you, knew exactly the kind of attack he just dolled out on your nervous system. Hoshina, up to this point, had been nothing but mostly professional around you. The only thing unprofessional before was his constant joking but other than that he had been an angel. Kind of. But you on the other hand fell fast and hard. It was embarrassing and something you would try very hard to take to your grave. “Did I make you nervous?”

“What-- n-no. It’s just-- I’m tired, that's all.” You covered, albeit sloppily. Hoshina raised his head slightly, a brow quirking up.

“Well… I wouldn’t want to keep you from sleeping.” He says, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes as he walked towards you, you moved out of the way of the door and gave him a terse smile. He looked down at you. “You’re actually going to sleep, right? You won’t read those books once I leave?” He jests as you nod your head. 

“I’m going to sleep.” You affirm shakily. He was standing so close. You could move your hand a few inches and you’d be touching him. You could take one step and meet his lips with ease. You looked away quickly at that thought. Ashamed of where your mind could take you. 

“Good night.” He says softly, hand reaching for the door. You’re not entirely sure what came over you but he was so close. Just right there. And walked you back to your room, carrying your things, talked to you like that and you were so weak already for him. You kissed him. It was probably the quickest kiss known to man. You had just gently pressed your lips against his in a quick peck and pulled back faster than you’d ever pulled back. Your face was beat red.

“M-my apologies, sir.” You said, turning and moving away but he caught your wrist. 

“You call that a kiss, Cadet?” He asked and when your wide eyes met his he pulled you back to him and lowered his lips to yours.

-

Your breath caught in your throat as you stopped mid walk into the doorway of your boss’s office. To call it a disaster would be an understatement. For the past week you’d been on a much needed vacation. 

“Y/n?” A voice exclaimed, surprised to your right. You almost dropped your tray of tea. 

“Mr. Narumi, you startled me!” You gasped, turning.

“You’re back a day early?”

“Mr. Hasegawa asked me to.” You said, walking carefully over the discarded boxes of yamazon orders to place the tea on his desk. Gen’s jaw tightened.

“He did, did he?” He asks as you nod your head.

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to clean up your office a bit-”

“No. No, I will take care of it. You should be home, enjoying your last day of vacation.”

“It’s alright, sir,” You reach and grab a trash bag but Gen reaches out, hand gracing yours to grab it away from you. 

“I wanted,” He sighs. “I wanted to clean this place before you got back.” He mumbled, cheeks red in embarrassment. 

“I really don’t mind, Mr. Narumi, it’s my job to help you out.” You say and Gen shakes his head. 

“This is my mess, you can go home early.”

“I just got here, sir.”

“And I’m giving you the rest of the day off, as well as tomorrow. Both paid of course.” He says, crossing his arms. You stare at him for a moment, parting your lips but Gen just shakes his head. “Go on, enjoy it.” He says, turning to start cleaning up his own mess. 

“Alright, thank you sir.” You say, leaving the tray behind as you make your way towards the door, glancing back to see Gen dutifully shoving things into a trash bag. 

An hour later you knock on his door and when he opens the door you hold up take out from his favorite restaurant.

“Before you try and send me home I thought we could have lunch together.” You say and his eyes sharpen before he inevitably steps to the side and lets you in. His office is much cleaner and this time you walk with ease to his desk, he follows behind and grabs two drinks out of a fridge as you pull out the food. “It looks nice in here.”

“Can you pretend you didn’t see the mess this morning?” He asks as you smile.

“What mess?” You ask and watch his face relax as he grabs and drags his chair to sit beside you. 

“I… wanted you to come back unstressed from your vacation but Eiji just had to ruin that.” He says, taking a drink before popping open the container of his food.

“I’m not stressed.” You say, popping open your own container as you feel Gen’s eyes on you.

“Would you like the rest of the week off too? Paid of course.”

“No!” You laugh, shaking your head. “Seriously, sir, I feel fine. It was a good vacation, I feel rested and relaxed. Ready to work.” You say, taking a bite of your food. 

“Are you sure?” He asks as you finally meet his eyes, he looks so worried for you. You furrowed your brow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he looks back at his food. 

“You deserve better than to be my assistant.” He says and you pout slightly, tilting your head.

“What? I like being your assistant, sir.” You say as Gen sort of sighs, it was clear something heavy was weighing on him. You should’ve known he was acting strange from the first moment you talked with him.

“I don’t want you to be.” He finally says. You stare at him, shocked and slightly hurt. 

“Oh.” You say, the bite of food you were about to eat paused. “I… I apologize. Did I do something to upset you?” Gen’s eyes fly up to yours.

“What! N-no of course not, Y/n.” 

“I can speak with Mr. Hasegawa and have him transfer me to-”

“That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” Gen says, rubbing his forehead in a stressed sort of way.

“What way did you mean it, sir?” You ask. Gen looks down at his food, he then inhales deeply and turns towards you. You hadn’t noticed how close you two were sitting until right now. He was so close, his eyes soft on yours until they dipped low to your lips then snapped back up. Your stomach flipped at that little action. 

“I want… more.” He says and your lips part in surprise. 

“More?”

“More.” He affirms. “May I… kiss you?”

“Kiss?” You echo, eyes sort of wide. He reaches over and tucks your hair out of your face. 

“Yes. May I?” You can’t wipe the shocked expression off your face. Your lips barely form the word yes and he’s leaning in, hand sliding across your cheek to pull you to meet his lips impatiently. He wanted it and needed it.

-

You breathed heavily, staggering to the side, hand placed on debris to keep yourself standing. You were sure you were dead. The jaws of a kaiju opened up to swallow you whole but suddenly you were on the ground, dizzy and unaware of how you got there. But then you saw it. The infamous Kaiju no. 8. You watched as it killed the kaiju that had you in its clutches moments ago. You staggered back when the kaiju turned to face you, fear jolting through you as you fumbled over debris to get away. 

“Y/n! Be careful, you're injured!” The kaiju said as it ran over to you. You screamed, you didn’t know those things could talk! You scrambled to your feet, rushing and dizzily falling as you tried to get to the gun you’d dropped in your fight with the last kaiju. Strong hands gently grabbed you and when you turned you were face to face with kaiju no. 8. You screamed and threw a punch, connecting with its jaw but the creature just stared at you, seemingly hurt until its eyes connected with something behind you. “Oh… shit.” The creature grunted as you stared at it, shell shocked. It’s voice… somehow familiar. Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, the kaiju still had a tight hold on you as you glanced back. The creature was looking at its reflection? There was only so much strangeness you could take as your body practically shut down, the adrenaline that was fueling you moments ago drained out as your legs gave out and you fell backwards into the Kaiju’s arms. “Y/n! S-shit… we have to get you to the infirmary!” The kaiju expressed and in that moment, seconds before you lost consciousness one name left your lips.

“Kafka?” You breathed out completely dumbfounded.

When you woke up it was light, almost a blinding white. You blinked a few times, groggily yawning as you carefully sat up, your entire body ached as you gently stretched out your muscles.

“You’re awake!” A voice to your right exclaimed in a breathy whisper. You turned and there was Kafka, he dropped his coffee and dive bombed towards you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight bear hug. You grunted in surprise as he held you tightly, as if he was keeping you grounded from floating away and never being seen again. Your mind was still a bit foggy on things as you gently pushed Kafka back.

“How long was I out?”

“Days… at least two or three.” He answers, his face clearly worried. It was also clear he hadn’t slept, dark circles had formed beneath his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine… a bit sore.” You answered as he sat on the side of your hospital bed and sighed out in relief. 

“I was worried.” He said, forcing a small smile on his face. He was still worried as you winced slightly, pushing down your blanket and inspecting the bandage across your midsection. His eyes followed your movements and when you looked up at him he had this intensely worried look on his face. 

“I’m fine, Kafka.” You implored as his eyes snapped up to yours. He nodded his head and swallowed. 

“Do you… remember anything? Anything at all?” He asks. You blink a few times, pursing your lips.

“I remember you… being there? Did you save me?” You ask, trying hard to recall what exactly had happened. You retraced your steps as Kafka fumbled through his words.

“I--- yes-- I was… there… technically.” You remembered a kaiju swiping at you, you lost your gun in the scuffle. You recalled it grabbing you up and tossing you towards its open mouth but you never landed in there but rather on your feet on the concrete. You blinked a few times as things started to piece together. 

“I saw… kaiju no. 8.” You said and watched Kafka’s face go pale white. “It…” you trailed off when you remembered its voice, remembering it grab you as you passed out. Remember saying a name. “You…” Your eyes snapped to Kafka’s. He looked stricken, scared and caught all at once. “Kafka… you… you’re-”

“Yes.” Kafka breathes out quickly. Like he’d been dying to tell you. “Yes… that was me.. I’m-”

“A kaiju.” You finished his sentence unblinking. You swallowed as Kafka’s lip trembled and he gave you a curt nod of the head. He looked embarrassed and guilty. 

“I’m a monster… I wanted-- I wanted to wait until you woke up to- to turn myself in because I wanted… no I needed to know you were going to be okay. I needed to tell you that I-”

“Kafka,” You interrupted, shocked by this revelation. He looked at you with a pained expression. 

“I promise I’ll turn myself in I just need to tell you that-”

“No!” You jerked up, wincing in pain.

“C-careful!” Kafka admonished, you reached for him, barely grabbing his shirt.

“Don’t turn yourself in. I-- I don’t want you to.” You stuttered painfully. Kafka’s lips parted wordlessly. 

“What? I was sure you would want me to…”

“That’s the last thing I want.” You said, trying to wrap your head around this all. You tighten the hold on his shirt and look at him. “They would… kill you and turn you into a weapon, Kafka.” You say as Kafka looks down, nodding his head.

“I know that.”

“And you think I would want that for you?” You hissed as his eyes snap back up to yours, a shocked expression on his face.

“You… hate kaiju.”

“I don’t hate you. No matter what you are.” You said, yanking his shirt towards you as you wrapped him in a tight hug. “Don’t you dare turn yourself in.” You warned, he was stiff in your arms for only a few seconds before he completely melted, the fear and anxiety of you possibly hating him kept him up for days. He wrapped you in a hug and you felt him breathe out and relax, hands sliding across your back, gently gripping your shirt as he held onto you. You could tell then that he’d really expected a different outcome. He’d expected you to tell him to turn himself in. When you pulled back to say something his mouth pressed against yours, stopping your words and your thoughts. His arms were still around you as he kissed you tentatively.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 3 | bodyguard!Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , END.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You stepped into the church, and just as expected, all eyes turned to you. Whispers rippled through the mourners, but you ignored them, adjusting your sunglasses. If they were waiting for a display of grief, they’d be disappointed.

Beside you, Bucky muttered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear. “This is a waste of time.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, “Didn’t you promise Mrs. Walls you’d be nice to me?”

Bucky flashed a peace sign. “I did. And for two hundred grand.”

Behind your shades, you rolled your eyes again. At least they hid your complete lack of sympathy. Dolly had been your manager for years, yet even now, as you stood at her funeral, she felt like nothing more than a former coworker.

The guests took their seats, and the murmurs continued around you.

“Poor Dolly. Such a tragedy.”

"Looks like she has forgiven Dolly, which is why she attended the funeral."

You didn’t feel the same. This felt like attending a distant relative’s funeral out of obligation. And the man sitting next to you wasn’t exactly helping. Ever since the money had hit his account, Bucky had toned down his usual sarcasm, making it easier to keep up the act of being a couple rather than explaining that he was just your bodyguard. You were relieved, too—it meant you didn’t have to sit beside Jack.

Jack. Your ex-fiancé.

You could feel his gaze burning into you from across the room. He was watching, observing, like he was trying to piece something together. Maybe he was just surprised to see you here with another man. A bitter laugh almost escaped you—he was such a good actor, no wonder he had won an Oscar. But behind the golden statue and the dazzling smile, he was nothing more than a gambling addict. You’d dodged a bullet.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was even here.

For the cameras, you answered yourself. The funeral had drawn some big names, and Jack never wasted an opportunity to get photographed.

Behind you, another hushed conversation caught your attention.

“You know, I saw a detective talking to some of the guests.”

“Wow. Not surprised. She owed money to the mafia.”

Your fingers clenched around the hem of your coat. So the rumors were true.

The funeral carried on, a few more speeches, some people crying—none of it stirred anything in you. When the service ended and the crowd began to disperse, you finally came face-to-face with Mr. Vert.

The CEO of your music label looked as sharp as ever. Slicked-back hair, tinted shades, a black trench coat. He had the presence of someone who was always ten steps ahead.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, his tone unreadable.

You gave him a tight smile. “When the boss calls, I answer.”

Mr. Vert smirked slightly, then shifted his gaze to Bucky. “So, this is him?”

“Yup. The one and only,” Bucky replied casually, hands in his pockets.

You weren’t sure why, but watching the two of them standing side by side gave you a strange feeling—like there was some kind of similarity between them. That was weird.

Mr. Vert adjusted his shades before turning to leave. “Guard her. Twenty-four seven.”

Bucky gave a small salute. “Of course.”

As soon as Mr. Vert walked away, you turned to Bucky, arms crossed. “Do you even know who that was?”

Bucky shrugged. “The guy who paid me?”

You exhaled sharply. “You’re seriously living under a rock.”

“Yup. My roommate is Patrick Star.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

Before Bucky could come up with another sarcastic remark, you spotted someone familiar in the crowd—Selena, Dolly’s assistant.

Unlike you, Selena looked absolutely devastated. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched a crumpled tissue in her hands. She wasn’t just Dolly’s assistant—she had practically worshiped her, running after her every demand.

You walked up to her carefully. “Hey, Selena.”

She sniffled and glanced at you, her voice trembling. “I can’t believe she’s gone… I—I don’t even know what to do now.”

Selena, her shoulders slumped and eyes filled with worry, looked at you. "Since Dolly’s gone, can I work with you? Until I find a better job?"

You paused for a moment, then gave her a soft but firm nod, offering her a reassuring smile. "Of course. And don't worry, you can stay as long as you want."

Selena’s posture softened as a hint of relief washed over her. She bowed her head slightly, her voice quieter now. "Thank you."

Bucky, standing nearby, watched the exchange before leaning in and muttering, “Wow. You do have a heart.”

You shot him a glare, but Selena let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t much, but at least for a second, it seemed to lift some of the weight off her shoulders.

Selena raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Uhm, who is he?”

Bucky grinned and leaned back slightly, his arms crossed. “Her boyfriend.”

Selena’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly. “Him?” she whispered, clearly not expecting that.

“Buck!” You snapped, giving him a look that could kill. You asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you never intended to blurt it out, especially not in the middle of a funeral.

You quickly grabbed Bucky by the arm, pulling him toward the door with a firm tug. He stumbled slightly, but you didn't care. “Let’s go,” you muttered under your breath.

As you reached the door, you turned to Selena, your tone softening. “Take care, Selena. And again, don’t worry. You’ll be fine here.”

Selena nodded, her expression grateful, though tinged with sadness. "Thank you... really."

📷📷📷📷

Back at your penthouse, you kicked off your heels and exhaled in relief. The weight of the funeral, the awkward stares, and the conversation with Mr. Vert were still fresh in your mind. You weren’t sure what exhausted you more—the event itself or dealing with Jack and Bucky in the same room.

Bucky let out a low whistle as he stepped inside, hands in his pockets as he glanced around. “Damn. Nice place.”

Then his eyes landed on the wall lined with awards. He walked over, scanning the gold plaques, framed records, and shimmering trophies. “Impressive.”

For some reason, hearing that made your face heat up. You turned away, pretending to straighten a book on the coffee table.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang. You sighed, already having a bad feeling about who it could be. Reluctantly, you made your way to the door and opened it.

Jack.

You let out another sigh, but still stepped aside to let him in. He wasted no time, immediately reaching out to pull you into a hug. You pushed against his chest, trying to create distance, but he only held on tighter.

“Jack, stop—”

Before he could tighten his grip, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

Bucky stepped between you, laughing. “Are you guys fighting over a toy?”

Jack looked furious, straightening his suit. He considered himself tall, but standing next to Bucky, he looked almost average. The shift in his posture made it clear—he hated losing.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you? And why are you glued to her?”

Bucky smirked. “I’m her new boyfriend.”

Jack’s expression turned into one of pure disbelief. His eyes darted back to you. “Him?”

You didn’t answer. You just crossed your arms and watched.

Jack scoffed, stepping closer again. “You know I’d never hurt you, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Those words used to make you melt. Now, they were the last thing you wanted to hear.

Jack sighed, softening his voice. “Can we pretend we’re okay? Please?”

You stayed silent.

“You painted yourself as a forgiving person at Dolly’s funeral,” he continued. “Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Why?” you asked, unimpressed.

Bucky, who had been casually scrolling through his phone, let out a short laugh. “He wants you to be his beard,” he said, not even looking up. “There’s a rumor he might be the next lead in that spy franchise.”

Jack’s lips pressed together before he finally admitted, “That’s right, man.”

Bucky scoffed. “If you get the role, I’m definitely not watching the movie.”

“Buck…” You shot him a warning glare.

Jack bristled. “You don’t think I could pull off playing a spy?”

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t exactly scream espionage material.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “What do you know about acting?”

Bucky tilted his head, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then he smirked. “You’re right. I don’t.”

The truth was, he didn’t need to act like a spy—he was one, or at least something dangerously close. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Jack.

“For crying out loud!” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “Can you two stop?”

You huffed “Fine. I’ll let the paparazzi take our picture.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, relieved.

“But we’re just walking to grab coffee. Nothing more.”

Jack hesitated. “Can I at least give you a side hug? Or a quick peck?”

You shot him a sharp glare.

Jack sighed dramatically, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright. No touching.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you alone with Bucky, who was still grinning.

You exhaled. “I need a drink.”

Bucky stretched his arms behind his head. “I need a raise.”

You rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

You poured two glasses of whiskey, sliding one across the counter to Bucky. He caught it effortlessly, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. You leaned against the kitchen island, staring at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Bucky let out a low chuckle. “Him?”

You glanced at him. “What?”

“You have low standards if you went for a guy like that.”

You scoffed. “Go to hell, Bucky.”

He smirked, tilting his glass toward you in mock salute. “Seriously, why are you helping him?”

“It’s just a picture,” you said, taking a slow sip of your drink. “After that, nothing. This kind of thing is common. A little media stunt to push someone up the search rankings. He needs something to work the algorithm in his favor.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “So it’s all fake, huh? No wonder entertainment’s one of the biggest fronts for money laundering.”

You frowned. “What?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “Entertainment is a money-laundering business,” he said casually, like he was talking about the weather. “And movie directors? Most of them are very late virgins who use their power as an excuse to throw orgies.” He wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting as fuck.”

Your stomach turned at the thought. “How the hell do you know that?”

Bucky took another sip, watching you over the rim of his glass. “I’ve seen things you don’t wanna know, girlfriend.”

There was something in his tone—something that made you uneasy. A dark knowing, like he had lived a hundred lives before this one.

Bucky took another sip of his drink and leaned back against the couch, watching you. “By the way, you still haven’t asked what I do for a living.”

You shrugged, twirling the glass in your hand. “To be honest, as a singer, private shows paid me more than being on TV. And through those gigs, I met all kinds of clients.” You exhaled slowly. “Some things are better left unknown.”

Bucky observed you, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. He had seen enough people in this business who preferred to turn a blind eye to the world’s ugliness. You weren’t naive—you just chose not to dig too deep.

“You,” you added, glancing at him over your glass, “give me the feeling that ignorance is the best answer.”

Bucky smirked. “I’m impressed.”

🌅🌅🌅🌅

The piercing sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake. Groaning, you reached for it, squinting at the name flashing on the screen.

Mr. Vert.

You answered with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Put me on speaker,” he ordered.

Frowning, you sat up and did as he asked. Bucky, who had crashed on your couch, rubbed his face and stretched, watching you curiously.

Then, Mr. Vert’s voice came through, calm but firm. “Jack’s dead.”

Your breath hitched.

“He was thrown from the 12th floor. Landed on a car.”

For a moment, your mind went blank. Jack? The same Jack who had just been in your apartment last night? The same Jack who had begged you to help him?

Your fingers tightened around the phone.

“Therefore,” Mr. Vert continued, his voice unwavering, “I want your bodyguard with you at all times.”

You swallowed, your pulse hammering. This was no longer just a media game. Someone was dead. Someone you had spoken to only hours ago.

Bucky, on the other hand, leaned back against the couch, arms folded, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“This,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone, “is getting more interesting.”

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My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

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[slytherinshua]

ᶻz　JUST FOR A WEEK　( 최수빈 )

      in which . . . your ex boyfriend helps you sleep just for a week. genre fluff , exes to ? , one bed trope , some itzy member cameos , soobin x fem!reader   cw exes sharing a bed obv , reader not over soobin at all (but he isn't over reader either) , this is just cute and fluffy , not proofread wc 881   request @soobchwe   note slytherinshua txt fic era plsplsplspls   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

Maybe your genius idea to not tell your friends that you had broken up with Soobin hadn’t been as genius as you thought. The original thought was to give yourself enough time to process the change before sharing. But now, swept away on an impromptu summer vacation, of which the beach cabin Yeji booked only had 3 bedrooms, you realized just how truly stupid that idea two months ago had been. Because of your failure to communicate your new relationship status, you and Soobin were expected to share a room. With only 1 bed. 

It couldn’t be that bad, right? You were still friendly with Soobin. Sure, there was a little bit of awkwardness in the air between you two every time you talked, but it wasn’t like you hated him. He was still the same kind, considerate, and loving man he always had been while you dated. He hadn’t changed, still treating you as gently as ever. 

It was especially clear that Soobin didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, knowing the scars from the breakup were still quite present. However amicable and “healthy” the breakup had been, you were still struggling to figure out your emotions after the fact. A part of you felt like it would’ve been easier to move on if you and Soobin hadn’t fit so well together. From hobbies, interests, likes, dislikes, food preferences, opinions— you matched up with him on almost everything. 

Everyone was able to see it. Yeonjun, Ryujin, Lia, and Beomgyu all agreed that you were a match made in heaven. Maybe your hesitance to tell them of your breakup had been for fear of shattering their excitement for you and Soobin. You knew they would ask why you broke up, and you weren’t ready to discuss the details. 

The past few weeks had been filled with a battle, trying to stop missing him as much as you did. Reminding yourself that the breakup was your choice, a chance to focus on yourself and get into a better mental headspace. You’d made significant progress. At least, you thought you had. Being around each other for even just one day on this vacation put you back at square one immediately. 

And now, rolling your suitcase into the bedroom you were expected to share with the man, a weight only settled in your chest, wondering how the hell you were supposed to survive a week in his presence. He came up behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Ah… You didn’t tell them, did you?” Soobin’s voice was smooth, posing the question to you in a relaxed manner. You shook your head.

“Did you?” 

“No. You didn’t seem ready.” 

Even the simple observation had your heart cracking slightly in your chest. You missed how easily he could read you, how he truly understood how you felt better than anyone. You missed him. 

“Should I room with Yeonjun and Beomgyu? I really don’t mind,” he offered immediately, seeing the apprehensive look on your face. 

You sighed. “No. They’ll catch on if you do that. It’s really fine. Just don’t cross onto my side of the bed, okay?” 

“Okay.”

You couldn’t fall asleep. You could barely even think with Soobin right there. He was facing away from you, head buried in his pillow, quietly breathing. From what you could tell, he wasn’t asleep yet. Yet he seemed so comfortable and calm that you were almost fooled by it. He had been so relaxed and unaffected by everything the whole day; your presence, sharing a room, sharing a bed. Every hurdle that seemed to knock you over bypassed Soobin with ease. You wondered if he was faking it like you or if he had truly moved on from you completely in just three weeks. Maybe you were the only one lingering onto feelings from the past in his presence. 

He shifted, turning over to face you and you froze. You didn’t remember when you had turned to stare at his back, but now that you were staring straight into his eyes, you wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Exes definitely shouldn’t be this hung up, right?

“I can’t sleep when you’re staring at me like that,” he whispered.

“I can’t sleep with you that far away from me.” 

Fuck. 

“I-I meant that close to me. I can’t sleep when you’re that close,” you reiterated, silently begging that your awful coverup would work. You could barely make out him raising an eyebrow in the dark. 

“Are you sure? You always slept better in my arms.” 

He wasn’t lying. In fact, your sleep had been one of the things that had suffered post-breakup. It was hard to fall asleep and even harder to stay asleep with Soobin gone and your bed feeling so noticeably cold every night. 

His warm hand reached for your wrist, hesitantly grabbing it, giving you time to push him away. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull you closer, until your head rested on his chest, the sound of his steadily beating heart faint in your ears.

“I’ll help you sleep soundly,” he mumbled. 

You held onto him tighter, feeling drowsy for the first time surrounded by his body warmth and comforting scent. Maybe you’d let him help you sleep. Just for a week. 

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[treatmelikeasmut]

The Artist and the Engineer//Part 3 Pose Reference

<<PREV Master List NEXT>>

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: Viktor and the artist are back for their second session. He's being far more cooperative this time. But it seems the artist may have something to hide.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I'm still debating how I want to flip-flop between Viktor and reader. If it's going to be every other chapter, or if it's just going to be however the flow feels right.

Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

You were late.

Super, incredibly late.

You’d gotten in the zone; playing music, working on a commissioned painting. You’d completely lost track of time. It was so easy for it to slip away like that. When you finally decided to take a break, the clock on the wall read five after two. Your apartment was ten minutes from campus if you ran like your life depended on it.

People clogged up the roads and sidewalks, which definitely didn’t help your situation. Some people yelled after you as you shoved through the crowd. You knew all too well the consequences of being late to appointments. You were just glad the spring thaw had finally seemed to be staying. The breeze no longer held its icy bite.

Still, sweat trickled down your spine as you finally made your way through the entry arch of the academy. You paused briefly, shielding your eyes as they hunted for the clock tower. It read 20 after. Cursing under your breath, you hustled towards the main door.

Standing just outside was a familiar face, Fallon, one of your friends who was still working through her undergraduate studies. Usually recognizable by her sizable stack of long, dark curls. She smiled, waving as she called you over. You returned the greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you rushed.

“I just got out of of class, I have a before hours before my next one starts. You want to get lunch?”

“I would, but I have an appointment to keep and I’m running super behind!” You were already halfway through the door. “I’m so sorry, I swear, we’ll catch up soon! I’ll see you later"!”

Fallon called something after you, but it was lost when the door shut. You speed walked down the main corridor, and then turned into the hall that would take you towards the art wing. When you were sure there was no one around, you broke into a jog. You knew Heimerdinger’s assistant didn’t want to be doing this as it was. Being late was not going to help your case any.

Taking a moment, you caught your breath and wiped your sweaty forehead with a clean rag. You could only hope you weren’t too disheveled. Regardless of the paint stains on your clothes, you still had to appear somewhat professional. Running in soaked with sweat and panting was not the way to do that.

You were surprised to see Viktor already in the studio. Well at home on the chaise and deeply engrossed in his book. His long legs were stretched across the cushion, one cross over the other. He didn’t look up as you shuffled passed.

“You’re late,” Viktor observed, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” you panted, “Sorry - give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

You hurried into the side room, and barely caught his words, “Take your time.”

In the side room, there was a wall of cubies. Each about as wide as your wing span and stretched about a foot over your head. They all had a wide shelf at the top and drawer in the bottom. Some of them were filled to the brim with covered canvases, others held only a sketch pad or an easel, most of them were empty. You were grateful the academy even had a reserved space for alumni artists. Not everyone had the space or the money to have a studio. You had a small corner where you kept your easel and paints in your own apartment. The entrance to your balcony was there, so it offered the best light. Just not the best view, since it over looked one of Piltover’s side roads.

You made your way to the one with a scrap of paper reading your name that had been stapled to the wooden surface. Tossing your bag into the bottom drawer, you dragged out your sketch pad, along with the pouch that held erasers, pencils, and a sharpener. Quickly double checking that no sticky fingers had made off with your extra supplies. Double counted your rolls of paper. Made sure your spare easel and the canvas you’d be using was all accounted for. That canvas was going to need prepped soon. That mental note got tacked to the back of your mind.

“Alright!” you sighed loudly, rounding back into the main studio. “Are we ready to start?”

Viktor looked up at you then, slotting a place holder into his book. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a beat, immediately zeroing in on your non-dominate hand. Narrowing as he studied it.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked plainly.

You glanced down at the splint bound to your hand with white cloth. It held your ring finger and pinky straight. In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sickening sound of them breaking. Hastily, you shoved your hand in the big pocket of your overalls. You tried very hard not to wince at the pain.

“Something like that,” you told him. You tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

Viktor continued to watch you, as if he were waiting for you to elaborate. It left you feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope. When you offered nothing he opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally, his gaze moved elsewhere.

It didn’t keep the shadows of the Alumni Studio from being oppressive, however. They sat heavy on your shoulder. Squeezed your lungs far too tightly. Making you itch for more than the dusty light coming in the high windows.

“Would you be too terribly opposed to sitting outside today?” you asked, then gestured behind you. “There’s a door not far that takes us to one of the inner court yards. It’s nice enough today.”

“Wherever you will have me.” Viktor shrugged, bringing his gaze back to you. Then he seemed to realize just how his wording came out. Clearing his throat, his ears reddened. Quickly, he corrected, “That is, wherever you wish me to sit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed. You swiftly erased that thought. “This way.”

Viktor trailed after you as you lead him out the side door and into another long hall lined on one side with windows. It was quiet between you, just the clink of his cane on the floor to let you know he hadn’t run off. A chill chased from the nape of your neck down your spine.

Finally, you came across the door to the court yard. The entire thing was relatively bare. Just a large circle carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building. There were a few low benches with arms, along with a sprinkle of large basins full of shrubs and moss. A couple trees grew from well maintained raised beds. You lead Viktor to your favorite one.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a bench backed by neat bushes.

Viktor sat, then you went to the edge of the low planter wall opposite him. You were both covered by the shade of a tall tree. It was just starting to sprout lively green leaves. You flipped to a new page in the pad. Then rifled through your pouch until your found your favorite pencil.

“I thought we would figure out your pose today,” you said, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My pose?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I want to do sketches of potential ones. It’ll help us figure out what will look best. - We also have to consider how comfortable it will be for you. I know what I’m thinking of, but did you have anything in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know -” Viktor awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

“Try this.” You laughed a little, then moved to the edge of the wall, setting your stuff beside you. You adjusted your posture to be ramrod straight, your body set at an angle with your hands at waist height, cradling air. “Obviously you’ll be holding your book.”

Viktor tried his best to mirror your posture. Glancing at you, eyes flickering over your body. You knew it could be awkward. It was never easy posing people, it often felt too staged.

“Like this?” he asked.

You relaxed, taking a moment to check. Your mind was already doing a preliminary painting. But something wasn’t quite right. You stood, going to him.

“Almost, do you mind if I - ?”

Viktor looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, no - go right ahead.”

You nodded, then carefully covered the backs of his hands with your own palms. Applying just enough pressure with your fingers to guide him. His hands were smooth and chilled under your touch. You pulled the book a bit farther away from his chest, giving the pose some breathing room. “Hold that there. - Now this is going to feel unnatural, but I’m going to adjust your elbow. Now tilt the book itself back a little bit. We need a nice silhouette.”

You stepped away, looking him over one more time. Still just almost. You hummed, tapping a finger on your chin with the other resting on your hip. Viktor pursed his lips as you took his chin between the knuckle of your forefinger and your thumb. Guiding it to where it needed to be to follow the lines of his body.

“Now turn your hips out just a bit more,” you uttered. He followed suit without a word.

Once more, you stepped away to check composition. Perfect, except for his expression. His brows were furrowed as he stared very intensely at the pages. Without thinking, you placed your thumb between his brows. Trying to get him to relax. You’d done this before, many times, trying to get people’s expressions just right. You felt him go still under your touch, but the creased immediately went away in his surprise.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away. “I should’ve asked if it was fine to touch your face.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor muttered, glancing at your very briefly. “You simply me caught me by surprise. That is all.”

You were surprised that he was being far more cooperative today. You wondered what had changed in the last two days. Maybe Heimerdinger had said something. As long as it wasn’t about your deal, you’d be fine with whatever he had to say to get Viktor to sit until the portrait was complete. You needed this. Desperately.

“Hold this pose for a minute.”

You returned to your seat, pulling the drawing pad into your lap. You did a quick gesture drawing. Getting the lines right, carving out the silhouette with the side of your pencil. A few places needed smudged with the pad of your finger, blending until it felt right. You saw his hands begin to shake.

“Okay, you can relax,” you told him.

Viktor’s entire body slumped, then he stretched with his arms over his head. You had to admit, he was nice to look at. Long and lithe, the light carved out his features in a way you hoped you could recreate and highlighted the warm undertones in his hair. You looked back down at your sketch. You definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when you told Heimerdinger Viktor had nice features that you couldn’t wait to put on canvas. You laughed to yourself, thinking of your conversation with the professor.

“What is so funny?” Viktor asked lightly. “I most certainly hope my posing wasn’t that horrid.”

You looked up, surprised to see him bent slightly over you. Eyes on what you’d drawn. The intensity of them almost made you bashful about your work.

You shook your head. “Not you, just thinking of something I’d told Heimerdinger.”

Viktor hummed. “Nothing too awful, I hope.”

You chuckled again. “Only that I was glad you didn’t have fur.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, clearly amused.

“It took much longer to paint him because of it. He got a good laugh out of it, though.” You shrugged. “I forgot to ask - how was your day yesterday?”

Viktor straightened up, leaning on his cane. You would have to remember to sketch it. It was a nice cane, finely crafted. You wanted to make sure you got it right when you painted it.

“Eehhh…” Viktor’s eyes bounced as he searched for the right word. “Productive.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to get too behind in your work.”

“Worry not, my partner is seeing to things in my absence.” Viktor hovered, hand readjusting on his cane. His gaze had settled on the branches over head. “I also had some time to reflect. I want to apologize for my behavior - I must not have made a good first impression.”

“It’s fine, really. I know how Heimerdinger can be. I thought he told you. I can’t really blame you for acting the way you did. So, no apology needed.” You stood, if only for something to do.

“Then let us begin anew. On the proper foot, this time.” He held out his hand. “I am Viktor, assistant to the Dean of the Academy and Hextech researcher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You found the effort endearing. You took his hand in yours, shaking it as you reintroduced yourself. “Recent University of Piltover graduate. Semi-professional in portraiture. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I look forward to painting you, I’m very glad that you are not furry.”

Viktor gave you a real smile this time. It was nice to see. It suited him, opened up his face. Making you feel warm inside. You tried to shut that feeling down immediately. But you couldn’t help admiring the boyish charm in it.

“Now, shall we continue?” he asked.

You nodded towards the bench. “Be my guest.”

You walked him through a few more poses. A couple were an immediate ‘no.’ Either they just didn’t look natural on him, or he said it would be too difficult to maintain for long periods. By the end of it, you had settled for something simple. He would sit reclined against the back cushion, one arm resting on the arm of the lounge, the other holding his book. His legs would be crossed, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. Carefully keeping his brace from digging into his skin.

You considered this session a success.

When the clock announced three, you stood to stretch out your back. You were expecting Viktor to take his leave like a rabbit sprung from a trap. Instead, he sat and observed as you began to pack your things.

“Well, that’s the hour,” you announced. Wondering if he was waiting for a proper dismissal. “I figure I won’t keep you longer, I was the one who was late after all.”

“Actually,” started Viktor, “I find I have some spare time. I can stay another hour, if it’s needed.”

You paused. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”

He nodded. “Jayce can suffice another hour without me.”

“Alright then.” You couldn’t help but grin. “Since we've figured out your pose, I was wondering if it was okay to sketch your cane?”

Viktor glanced at where it laid next to him on the bench. “My cane?”

“For the painting.”

His expression was unreadable. “You want to include it?”

“Yes?” You cocked your head. “Why wouldn't I? Unless you don’t want it to be? - It’s your picture, at the end of the day. Heimerdinger is just sponsoring it. We don’t have to include anything you don’t want..”

“I -” Viktor frowned a touch, as if the idea had never occurred to him. He sighed. “That is perfectly fine.”

You sat on the ground in front of the bench. Viktor held the cane upright, turning it when you asked. You made little notes about colors, and where it was dullest from being held. All while being under his sharp gaze. You wondered what he was thinking. If he resented you at all, even though you were just hired to do a job.

“So…” Viktor cleared his throat. “Your fingers - what happened?”

Your whole body went rigid, freezing mid-sketch. You carefully avoided his eyes. Shaking your head, your forced yourself to keep drawing. “Nothing. I was clumsy. Tripped, landed on my hand wrong.”

A moment of silence, then a small hum. “At least it was not your other one.”

You muttered to the paper, “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you stated louder, “will you tilt that to right a bit?”

Viktor obliged, though the movement was hesitant. You studied the cane intently. Trying not to meet his eyes. He had to know you were lying. That excuse hadn’t even sounded convincing to you. A few more minutes ticked by in silence.

“Tell me,” Viktor started again, “do you have a preference for coffee or tea?”

That one did make you look up. He ran a finger along the rail of the stone bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. The amber of them burning in a patch of sun. You told him your preference, to which he hummed. You searched your mind for something to ask him.

“So,” you started, “what all do you do for Heimerdinger?”

“Many things.” Viktor shrugged, as if it was the most uninteresting question in the world. “I do anything he asks.”

“I’ve heard you and Jayce Talis are the founders of Hextech. All the revolutionary stuff that’s appeared the last few years has been because of you. Is that true?”

Slowly, Viktor nodded. “He took the first steps, then together we built.”

“Then it’s no wonder that Heimerdinger wants your portrait done,” you started, a bit awestruck. “It’s not everyday this sort of thing comes along. - We’ll have to include something of it in your painting. Make sure everyone knows your face, too.”

“Right.” Viktor shifted in his seat. You pretended not to notice the pink blotches staining his neck. “Ah - I’m not well versed in art. Out of curiosity, how long does this sort of thing usually take? Professor Heimerdinger said this could take months, but surely not…”

“It could - it took me most of the four year graduate program to paint Professor Heimerdinger. The third and fourth year especially since I had to make a presentation to go along with it, but it was also hard to meet with him. Yours shouldn’t take nearly as long,” you told him. Your eyes traced the curves on the cane’s handle, your hand trying to follow along on the paper. “If I can focus, a painting this size takes…80 or 90 hours to complete. That isn’t including color matching and sketching, which could take it well over 100 -”

“100 hours?” Viktor repeated, jaw tight. Any openness that was once there now gone. “That is nearly four months of my time. More if one of us is not available!”

You nodded slowly. “I can try and speed up the process, but there’s no promises with this sort of thing. Some of it, I may not even need you there for.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “No, no - it’s fine. I will just have to accommodate accordingly.”

Your name echoed across the courtyard then and you both flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of Fallon. How had she even seen you? That ever present smile was on her face. She waved, curls bouncing as she jogged over to you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she laughed. Her eyes turned to Viktor. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not really a friend, more of an acquiantance. This is Viktor, the Dean’s assistant,” you said, “I’ve been commissioned. Sorry - Viktor, this is my good friend Fallon. She’s in her second year of her undergraduate studies.”

He nodded at her. “A pleasure.”

Fallon gasped, gripping your bad hand by the wrist. You hissed softly at the pain, grimacing. She turned your hand palm up, then back over.

“What did you do?” In a second the sweet Fallon was gone, a dark cloud sweeping over her features. She asked in a low voice, “He didn’t do this, did he?”

You tried to pull your wrist away, laughing awkwardly. “No, no, no - nothing like that. This is my own fault. Viktor is…sweet. He’s been very patient with me today.”

Just as quick as it appeared, the storm cloud passed and Fallon was back to her grinning self. Her gold skin practically glowed under the late afternoon sun. The light threading through her dark curls to highlight the red understones. Her eyes danced briefly over your face, then narrowed.

“I know how you can get,” Fallon scolded, releasing your wrist. “Have you eaten today?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. She put her hands on her hips, foot tapping against the stones. You gave her sheepish smile. “I got in late then was up early. I had some work to do.”

Fallon flicked your forehead. “How many times have I told you -”

“Yes, I know - take care of myself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve just…been busy.”

“You are never too busy to care for yourself. - I’ve decided I’m taking you to lunch.” Fallon pulled your arm, hauling you off the ground. Small but mighty, it seemed. “C’mon -”

“But I have to -” you argued, barely keeping a grip on your pencil and pad as you stumbled after her. “Uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Viktor!”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. That sent a wave of embarrassment through you. You had the strongest urge to stick out your tongue or flick him off. But you didn’t. Just allowing yourself to be pulled out the door, barely being able to waylay her long enough to put your things away and grab your bag.

Fallon found a resturant close to academy for you both. The entire time she gave you a scathing review of your poor habits. But you knew it came from a place of concern. You’d done the same for her a few times. Especially around midterms and finals.

“So, anyway,” Fallon said, the stern tone fading. A mischievous grin took over. “That guy, huh?”

“Viktor?” you asked, taking a bite of your food. “What about him?”

“He was a cutie, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, first off - he’s way too old for you.” You rolled your eyes. Fallon had been unstoppable since she started at the academy. Constantly chasing one guy after the next. “You’re not even twenty yet. He’s like, 26 or 27.”

“As if that would stop me. Besides - I wasn’t thinking about me…” Fallon chuckled. Then licked her finger and rubbed at your cheek. “Hey, did anyone tell you there’s graphite on your face.”

You looked down at where your shiney, grey fingers held your fork. Then scrubbed at your cheek with your shirt sleeve. “Secondly, I haven’t really thought about it.”

She hummed, eyebrows raising briefly. “Liar.”

“I’m not!” You truly hadn’t, whether she believed you or not. “His has some nice lines. His eyes are a nice color -”

“So you’ve just been looking at him like an art project.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your face felt hot, so you swallowed down some ice water. “I can objectively observe someone’s beauty, ya know. You literally have to take an entire class about it.”

“All I’m saying,” Fallon pushed, “is that maybe you should stop looking at him as just a subject.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re trying to set me up, and you don’t even know him.”

She held her palms up. “There’s more to life than work, that’s all I’m saying. And if you just happen to be able to be in the presence of a cute guy who’s stuck with you until the commission is done…”

“I don't want to make our sessions weird. Also, I already told you that I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

Fallon pouted. “But why?! There are so many cuties on campus. You’re just going to ignore them all?”

“I -” There were so many things you wanted to tell her. So many things that were safer if you didn’t. You just wished you at least one person to confide in. “I’m just not looking. I’m so busy with commissions and making sure that I can pay rent. It just wouldn’t be fair to try and balance a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time. It would end badly. So it’s better off that I don’t.”

Fallon’s gold eyes watched you. They reminded you of Viktor’s a bit, but hers were missing the honey tones. Either way, they didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“You’re hiding something,” she said plainly, “what is it?”

You shook your head. “I’m not involving anyone in my life drama.”

“I’m your friend, you can trust me. I want to help if I can.”

“I know exactly the kind of help I need. - Trust me, I’m already dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Fallon reached over and touched your arm, staring at you with nauseatingly intense sincerity.

Finally, you sighed, leaned forward in the booth - and whispered to her the whole dirty truth.

____________________________________________________

TAG LIST

@starmansolar @motheroffae @vintagehellfire @seaweedbumblebee @21-princess @starriekaede @local-mr-frog @tspmovro @hexhoess @shushjayvik

[nylauninterrupted]

OP81 x Reader [Let's Get Out of Here]

before reading: this is a repost, since I am desperately trying to learn how to manage posts and format them, thanks for your patience! (I am currently open to requests and slowly working through them<3)

summary: You thought Oscar was your enemy, yet things seem to change after a party, when you're not feeling so well.

content warnings: smut, dom!Oscar, kinda rough at times

word count: 2357

You've known Oscar for a couple of months now. You first met the driver at a casual party of a mutual friend. And for some reason, unlike everyone, you seemed unable to hold a civil conversation with him.

Maybe it was the way he looked completely uninterested when you came up to him to ask a simple question. Or how he was always calm, no matter the situation, no matter how you felt. You truly didn't know.

But the fact is, every chat, every even slightly pointed glance, the smallest interaction would ignite flames and fighting. And you didn't understand it. You didn't understand yourself and your feelings.

There you are, sipping a cola on ice, in a slight haze, as your eyes take in the stuffy room of a friend's apartment. The movement of the people dancing around seems slowed and a bit blurry.

You're not drunk at all, but rather detached. You've had a bloody awful day after you had an argument with a family member. You wish to forget, to take your mind off things, to think about only the pleasant things.

It's honestly a perfect situation to get drunk and forget, yet you hold yourself back, knowing that this isn't the thing you should be doing. Moments like that always end up the same, with you barely able to walk, stumbling to your cold, empty apartment, having to clean your own puke the next morning, with a massive hangover.

The world around you seems to swirl, the seconds tangling together into minutes, as you sit alone, swirling the liquid in your glass. You exhale shakily, placing your heavy head on your hand. You close her eyes tiredly before opening them and looking up, just in time to see him walking through the door.

You want to scoff seeing Oscar, his unnerving calm expression present on his face as always. His eyes meet yours, as if feeling your stare... Or were you glaring?

He raises an eyebrow at you, his face nonchalant as if in a challenge. You straighten up, pulling out of your haze, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable.

Oscar almost rolls his eyes at your gesture, reading it correctly. His eyes soften slightly as he approaches you slowly. You don't take your eyes off him, having to look up more the closer he gets.

"Piastri," you say coldly, though your voice cracks slightly, indicating your slightly shaken state.

He observes you closely, his eyes narrowing knowingly, figuring out that you are not feeling too good.

"What's with the sour expression? You look unhappy; it's definitely not just because I'm here."

"Maybe it is." you mutter, but your eyes relax a little as you give up on looking tough, knowing that he's got you figured out already. "Why do you suddenly care?"

Oscar pulls out a chair and sits right in front of you without looking away for even a split second. He takes in the way you're dressed, your expression, your hair, and every single inch of you that he can see.

"Dunno. Maybe I just feel curious." He shrugs, with absolutely no shame, studying every single movement of the muscles of your face. "So? What happened?"

You exhale, giving up on trying to chase him away, knowing that while he usually looked like he didn't care about anything, once he settled on something, he stubbornly kept to it.

"It's not a good day for me," you say quietly, finally showing slight sensitivity, meeting his eyes, which soften slightly at your words.

"And so you chose to go to a party instead of taking care of yourself at home?" He asks, and although his tone sounds a bit scolding for some reason, for once it doesn't make you want to punch him in the face. His questions came off more as his way of showing concern.

You would like to keep believing he doesn't care. That he is completely insensitive to everything you feel, maybe even enjoys it when you're miserable. But in this moment, he's anything but that. Even though his words are reserved, the way his honey brown orbs follow yours makes your heart flutter a bit for some reason. His lips suddenly look more full than usual, and oh, did he always have such a nice nose?

You open her mouth a bit, a little overwhelmed by those sudden thoughts. You quickly shake them off, trying to focus on forming a coherent response.

"I really don't want to be alone right now. The loud music and people are still better than sitting in my empty apartment right now. Even if it's not the best setting." you manage to say, taking a deep breath. "I didn't have any better ideas."

Oscar keeps looking at you, actually taking your words seriously. Seeing how you sit here, trying to handle your heavy heart, makes him soften. He gets up and holds his hand out to you.

"Come on. You shouldn't spend an evening like that at a party. You can stay with me tonight."

Your eyes widen at those words. The guy who'd show disinterest in everything you said, who you'd fight with all the time, saying something so sympathetic? It feels unreal.

Your face heats up a bit, soft hints of a blush barely visible on your cheeks. You blink quickly, trying to calm down a bit, not able to look away from the man standing in front of you.

"We won't do anything you don't want to do," he says quickly, noticing your subtle reaction to his words. "I promise."

To hell with it.

You carefully take his warm hand and get up, stumbling a little, even though you are completely sober. Oscar immediately catches you, steadying you and looking down to meet your eyes, which are still wide.

Still in a slight daze, you let him lead you out of the party and walk down the street with you in the chilly evening air. You shiver a little, as you didn't bother to take a jacket with her.

Without hesitation, he takes his large hoodie off and helps you put it on carefully, not saying a word. His scent immediately envelops you, as the fabric warms you up almost instantly.

He takes your arm gently and walks you through the empty streets. You press your lips together, utterly confused by the whole situation. Why did he start taking care of you like that?

"Thank you," you say quietly, not wanting to be ungrateful. A few hours ago you'd probably say that you hate his guts, but now... His actions leave you confused.

You walk in silence for a while before finally stopping in front of his apartment door. For some reason you feel nervous, never having been to his home before. The whole evening made you doubt yourself and every single emotion you ever felt. Even though none of the things Oscar did were that big, they made you feel like a whole different person.

He glances at you and opens the door for you, actually acting like a gentleman for once. Or maybe he's always been one, and you were just too busy focusing on his faults to notice? You really didn't know anymore.

He helps you to a seat, even though you are perfectly capable of walking by yourself, and kneels down, carefully undoing all the little straps of your shoes. You feel her face heat up once more, looking down at the man on his knees before you, helping you with everything, without you even having to ask.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper softly, looking at Oscar, who just got up and sat down in front of you. Your eyes are shining in the dim light; you are almost fascinated by the man and his doings.

"Because you need to be taken care of." He answers softly, looking back at you, with something resembling determination in his eyes. "And I'll provide anything you need so you can feel better."

Your breathing slows down a little, while your heart speeds up at that.

"Anything?" you whisper softly, your body almost aching to touch him, feel the warmth of his hands on your skin again.

Oscar nods his head, and before he can say anything else, you lean closer, gently supporting his chin, while your lips touch his. Without hesitating, he puts his hands on both sides of your head, tangling your hair in his fingers as he takes the lead of the kiss.

You lean back after a few seconds, your breathing shaky, making eye contact with the Aussie.

"Just tell me what you want me to do," he whispers to you, his eyes full of affection and warmth you didn't think he was capable of showing.

"Just... Make me forget about it. I want to feel you. Just you."

"Do you want me to be gentle?" he asks, assuming that you need only care and affection.

"The opposite," you whisper, making Oscar's breath hitch slightly. He gets up and lifts you up from the couch, twirling you around a bit, before rather quickly making his way to the bedroom with you. He didn't want to have you on the couch for the first time. This had to be more intimate.

He throws you down on the bed a bit roughly, crawling on top of you. You're still wearing his hoodie over your silver party dress, which honestly turns him on quite a bit.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs, breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume, as he buries his head in your neck. "All for me to have." 

He places soft kisses on your jaw and quickly moves lower, to your collarbone, progressively getting rougher. He nibbles and leaves hickeys all over you, marking all the sweet spots that make you whimper and moan.

"O-Oscar." You stutter, gripping his muscular back a bit, before immediately releasing it as the sensations continue.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks quietly, a small smirk on his face, "Tell me how it feels, honey."

You bite your lower lip softly at the nickname, not expecting him to get this intimate so quickly, but definitely liking it.

"Feels... amazing," you whisper, which makes him continue. He takes his hoodie off of you before lifting up your party dress. His lips curl at your underwear. It's a simple lacy set, nothing too fancy. He doesn't need anything fancy, though.

"Light green, interesting choice." He teases slightly, undoing your bra and sliding it off, careful not to scratch you with the clip. He'd rather leave all the marks himself after all.

His hands move to your now-exposed breasts, kneading them in a painfully slow way, before taking one of your nipples in his lips, sucking on it, and teasing it with his tongue.

It makes you moan, which causes him to smirk against your breasts.

"Eager, are we?" He mutters, his head buried in your chest. Without moving his face away, his hand goes lower, sliding under your panties and feeling your already wet core.

His lips curl at the fact that he makes you so wet, but he doesn't comment on it for now, slipping a finger into you, making more beautiful sounds come out of your mouth. He attacks your chest with his tongue and grazes it with his teeth occasionally, all while working on your slit.

It doesn't take long before you are close. Your mouth opens slightly as you let out another whiny whimper.

"Oscar... I'm..." she stutters out, looking down at the man who's busy pleasuring her body.

"I know, pretty girl." He smirks. "But I can't let you yet." He pulls away, leaving your hole empty for a moment.

He takes his shirt off, making your eyes drift to his muscular stomach. He can see you enjoying the view, which makes him smirk again. Soon enough, he is completely naked, just like you. Still on top of you, he positions himself in front of your entrance.

He leans closer, his mouth close to yours. His dick is of regular size, maybe just a bit bigger than most. Still, you observe him a bit carefully, knowing that you asked him to be rough.

"You can take it; I know you can, baby." Oscar whispers and begins pounding into you. His movements are quite quick, cutting your breaths short, as he thrusts away. You both pant and moan, feeling pure bliss. You never would have thought having sex with him could feel so exquisite.

"God, you're taking me so well," he murmurs, going faster, which makes your moans grow louder. "That's right, let me hear your filthy whines."

You both finish at the same time, breathing heavily. He collapses on top of you, making eye contact.

"You did so good for me, pretty girl," he whispers into your ear and rolls to the side, lying next to you, as you catch your breath.

You look at him, your eyes turning watery. You suddenly feel even more vulnerable after sharing this intimate moment with Oscar.

"Why wouldn't you ever look at me? Why were you always so cold?" You whisper, not able to stop yourself from asking the question that keeps disturbing your peace of mind.

He looks back at her, his expression soft but serious; he wraps his strong arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"Because you intimidated me. I don't think I have ever seen a woman more enticing than you. I don't understand it myself, but I cannot keep my thoughts away from you. And it scared me sometimes."

You don't say anything to his words. You didn't need to. You let yourself sink in the warm feeling of being cared for. You look up to meet his gorgeous brown eyes and peck the tip of his nose, making him smile widely. He immediately responds with a soft kiss, only on your lips. You nuzzle up against him, breathing softly.

Neither of you say anything, simply finding comfort in each other's presence. Soon enough, your eyelids start feeling heavy, and you feel yourself dozing off in his arms.

[batsovergotham]

Chapter 7: Lost to the Unknown Part 2

"Your personal road to ruin. Each will be different. But whatever the story, for you… the nightmare will become real. Just know that I sympathize. Because right now, Angstrom, who poisoned my life threatens everything I love… my nightmare is already real."

Main!Mark Grayson x Psychic! Reader

warnings: more smut </3, panic attacks, angst, baby oliver is a cutie

w/c: 11.5k

a/n: decided i'll finish posting unshaken first before posting my next fic! ty for the feedback :)

The war room is cooler than normal.

Not temperature-wise, though the steel walls and lack of windows give it that artificial chill, but in mood. In the stillness that extends too long between statements. In the way everyone avoids eye contact until they have to look at each other.

Cecil stands at the head of the table. Arms folded. Tablet under one arm, face unreadable. The way it always is when he’s treading a delicate line between diplomacy and control.

Around the table are the highest-ranking Guardian officials. Atom Eve. The Immortal. Black Samson. Dupli-Kate. Bulletproof. A few senior-level analysts. Two additional from the metahuman observation section. You’re not there.

You weren’t invited.

And Mark, he's standing at the back, arms crossed over his chest, his mouth taut. You wouldn’t have realized this meeting was happening if he hadn’t given you a warning half an hour ago.

> Cecil’s calling a closed session. It’s about you.

He’d followed up with a second message seconds later.

> I didn’t know.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

“Let’s not dance around it,” Cecil says finally, breaking the stillness. “You’ve seen the reports. You’ve studied the footage. This latest glitch wasn’t just a random rupture. It was targeted. Sustained. And Ace was at the epicenter.”

Eve is the first to speak. “She didn’t cause it.”

“No one’s saying she did,” Cecil answers easily. “What I am saying is that her connection to it wasn’t incidental.”

Black Samson leans forward. “We’ve always known her powers were… unstable.”

“Unstable,” Cecil repeats. “And growing.”

The Immortal’s voice cuts in. “So what are you proposing?”

Cecil taps his tablet. The hologram in the center of the table lights up. A pulse graph appears, one of yours, clearly labeled. “Her readings during the event were unlike anything we’ve recorded. Spikes in psychic output. Dimensional field overlap. A surge of reality-bending pressure coming from inside her.”

Dupli-Kate raises a brow. “Is that the same as saying she opened the glitch?”

“No. But it’s closer to saying the glitch opened through her.”

The room goes quiet again.

Mark speaks up, his voice low but cutting. “She didn’t do anything. She was walking. She didn’t touch a building. She didn’t use her powers. It happened to her.”

Cecil turns to him. “You were there. You saw it. Are you saying what happened wasn’t different from every other problem we’ve experienced so far?”

Mark says nothing. Because he did see it. He did feel it.

Cecil glances back at the group. “Ace has always been an anomaly. We’ve kept that secret for years. GDA training. Emotional regulation. Psychic constraints. And yet, every year her authority rises. Becomes something harder to define. We used to classify her as a telepath with kinetic applications. Now she’s a walking quantum variable. And as of yesterday, she’s the first individual to make touch with whatever’s driving these dimensional breaches.”

“Contact?” Eve repeats. “You think she spoke to it?”

“I don’t think it was words,” Cecil acknowledges. “But something reached into her. And she felt it. She said so herself.”

Mark takes a step forward. “And what? That’s enough to pull her off active duty?”

“Temporarily,” Cecil says. “Yes.”

Eve shakes her head. “Cecil—”

“This isn’t disciplinary,” he replies, harsher now. “It’s precautionary. Until we understand what’s happening, I’m suggesting Ace be banned from full field operations. She’ll still have access to intelligence. Training facilities. Controlled labs. But no patrols. No missions. And no near to active breach zones.”

“And if she resists that?” the Immortal asks.

Cecil doesn’t flinch. “Then we have a problem.”

Mark’s voice raises. “You think cutting her out is going to make this better? She’s the only one who’s connected to what’s happening. If we sideline her, we lose that.”

“If we lose control of her,” Cecil responds, “we lose everything.”

Silence.

He lets it sit.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Eve adds finally, voice strained. “She’s been there for us. For months. Don’t treat her like a loaded gun just because she’s scared.”

“I’m not treating her like a gun,” Cecil explains. “I’m treating her like a mirror. Something that the other side is already trying to use.”

He stares around the room, reading the expressions. He’s not searching for agreement. He’s seeking for capitulation.

And after a beat, he gets it.

No one says yes. But no one stops him either.

Cecil turns back to his tablet.

“I’ll talk to her tonight.”

Mark’s hands clench into fists. “I’ll do it.”

Cecil pauses.

“I should be the one to tell her,” Mark adds. “She’ll hear it better from me.”

Cecil nods once, his face inscrutable. “Fine. But make sure she knows the stakes.”

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

You know.

They’re going to treat you like a danger.

Even the ones who claimed they wouldn’t.

Even the ones who love you.

And nevertheless, it still hurts.

You don’t mean to stop walking.

You’re halfway down the corridor, shoes echoing gently on the linoleum, Mark’s hoodie slung over your shoulders because you hadn’t bothered to change after patrol. You thought maybe—maybe—this would simply be a brief check-in. A standard follow-up following what transpired in the district. You knew Cecil wanted to chat. You knew the instant the glitches rippled about you like you were their lighthouse, this wasn’t going to be normal anymore.

But you didn’t expect to hear this.

You’re not even at the door yet. Just near enough for the voices to carry.

“…full containment isn’t off the table,” Cecil replies, voice muted but audible enough through the reinforced glass. “Not indefinitely. Not yet. But I want every branch ready. If she destabilizes again, we need eyes on her, and we need them fast.No holes in surveillance. No more waiting.”

Your breath catches. You slow to a standstill.

Inside the room, the murmur of answers. People agreeing. Some quieter than others.

A new voice—Dupli-Kate, maybe? “Isn’t that a little extreme? We’ve been working with her for months.”

“She’s never synced with an anomaly before,” Cecil answers. “Not like that. That wasn’t simply proximity. That wasn’t simply exposure. She merged.”

“She didn’t mean to,” someone else mutters.

Cecil doesn’t pause. “Intent doesn’t matter if the outcome is world-ending.”

Your heart falls, sluggish and heavy, like a stone dropped into water.

And suddenly, you’re back there. Not on the sidewalk. Not in the shimmer of bending time. No—before that. Before any of this.

Back in the white room. Back under the hum of the collar. Back to the antiseptic calm of the hospital where you weren’t yourself, just a label. A code name. A risk factor. A lovely little lockbox full of stuff they didn’t comprehend.

Your fingers clench on the sleeve of Mark’s sweatshirt, knuckles pale.

And without intending to, you whisper—

“He’s going to lock me up again.”

The words feel like someone else’s voice. A version of you that’s still thirteen, still sitting cross-legged in a white cage, assuming the picture books they handed you represented freedom.

You inch closer to the door. Just far enough to look through the tiny window.

Cecil’s standing at the head of the room, shoulders squared, chin taut. He doesn’t appear furious. He seems like he’s already decided.

“…temporary mission restriction,” he’s saying now. “Field access revoked until further notice. She stays in observation, works via internal debriefings solely. We watch any unexpected surges, follow trends in her talents, and if she shows any symptoms of breach synchronization, we elevate to level six response.”

You flinch.

Level six.

You know what that implies. Sedation. Psychic dampeners. Isolation units two miles below the GDA complex in Colorado. It’s the same approach they employ for dimensional trespassers and renegade multiverse versions.

They’re not only treating you like a danger.

They’re ready to treat you like a weapon.

Someone says something else—soft, careful. “Have we told her?”

Cecil doesn’t glance up from his tablet. “Not yet.”

You take a step back.

You want to burst in. Demand answers. Call them out. Shout. Scream. But your heart is pounding, and your stomach’s already flipping itself inside out. You can’t go in there like this. Not when you already know how it ends. Not when every breath you breathe feels like it’s being measured through glass.

The meeting isn’t done.

They don’t know you’re here.

Not yet.

But they will.

And when they do—when you open that door and confront the room of individuals who’ve spent the past twenty minutes studying your existence like you’re a malfunction waiting to happen—you’re going to have to decide if you go in as a soldier...

…or as something they’ll never be able to box up again.

From the open doorway on the other end of the hall, a voice broke in, sharp, familiar, and dripping with the type of hatred only one person could carry off so nonchalantly.

“Oh, fuck this.”

Everyone turned.

Rex is leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows lifted like he’d just walked in on a bunch of grownups fighting over something minute. He’s civilian clothes, hoodie half-zipped, sunglasses tucked into the collar, and yet looks like he hadn’t slept, shaven, or given a shit in at least three days.

Cecil didn’t blink. “You weren’t invited.”

“Yeah, and yet, here I am. Weird, huh?”

The room is quiet. Dupli-Kate blinked from her place toward the rear. Even Eve appears caught off guard. Not by his presence, no one was actually astonished by Rex stepping up unannounced, but by the look on his face. He wasn’t grinning. Wasn’t smirking. There was no proud twist to his mouth. No cocky, self-assured shrug.

He looks irritated.

And worse, serious.

“Go home, Rex,” Cecil says tiredly. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Bullshit it doesn’t,” Rex shouts, moving completely into the room. “I was in the Guardians with her. I was there when she pulled Kate out of the crater in Prague. I’ve seen her keep a building together while bleeding out. Don’t tell me it doesn’t concern me when you’re in here talking about boxing her up like she’s some living EMP with anxiety issues.”

Cecil straightens slightly, his voice strong. “You heard the report. She was at the core of the greatest abnormality we’ve detected to far. She’s changing, and we don’t know how. I have a responsibility—”

“Yeah, I know,” Rex interjects, pacing now, teeth tense. “You’ve got a responsibility. To the world. To safety. To bullshit words that justify dumping people in places they don’t belong when you’re nervous.”

He turns, looking Cecil dead in the eye.

“You always do this. Something changes, and you behave like it’s a problem that requires a cage. But what if it’s not a problem? What if she’s the only person who can actually stop this shit, and you’re too busy treating her like an infection to notice?”

“She’s unstable.”

“We’re all unstable!” Rex snaps, voice rising. “That’s the whole gig, man. You think any of us sleep at night after the shit we’ve seen? You think we’re not all one bad day away from snapping? The difference is, she’s never broken. Not once. Even when she had every reason to.”

Black Samson leans closer again, observing him intently. “No one’s saying she’s the enemy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rex chews out. “Cecil’s practically back in the lab, drawing up collar blueprints.”

Cecil’s voice falls, harsh and frigid. “That’s enough.”

But Rex didn’t stop. He seldom did.

“You know what I remember?” he asks, quieter now, edging closer to the table. “I remember being nineteen and scared out of my fucking mind because the Guardians were dead and we were supposed to fill their shoes. She was the one holding it together when the rest of us were coming apart. So okay, maybe she’s a bit cracked around the edges now, but so are we. That doesn’t mean you get to lock her in a cage and call it mercy.”

Eve speaks out from the corner, her voice gentle. “He’s not wrong.”

Cecil turns toward her, and for the first time, he appears really cornered. “I’m not doing this because I want to.”

“Then stop pretending like you have to,” Rex responds. “You want to monitor her? Fine. Talk to her. Work with her. Don’t pull this cold-shoulder confinement shit and expect her to thank you for it.”

Dupli-Kate looks around at the others, apprehensive yet resolved. “She’s been one of us for a while. She deserves more than this.”

Cecil’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer.

Rex takes a breath and shrugs, less casual now, more like a last statement.

“I get it. You’re afraid. But if you treat her like a bomb, don’t be surprised when she quits trying to be anything else.”

He turns and walks out.

No explosion. No mic drop.

Just the sound of the door hissing shut behind him, and the heavy weight of a reality no one in the room wanted to carry.

The conference finishes with a hollow-sounding click as Cecil powers down the projection.

Chairs scratch. Voices begin to mumble in low tones—some exhausted, others hesitant, all of them too quiet to cut through the tempest forming behind Mark’s eyes. He doesn’t move. Not at first. Not even when the Immortal pulls back from the table and gives him a long, knowing look before leaving.

The others started filing out. Dupli-Kate brushes by him, hesitating for just a minute like she may say something—offer some kind of quiet apology or uncomfortable reassurance—but then thinks better of it and goes walking.

Mark hardly hears her disappear.

He’s fixated on Cecil.

And when the door finally hisses shut behind the last police, the stillness that lingers is thick. Charged. Alive with the tension he’s been holding back from the minute your name was mentioned like a warning sign.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

Cecil doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t glance up from his datapad, continuously typing through data. “Good to see you’re still holding in your emotions, Grayson.”

“I sat there and listened to you talk about her like she was some kind of monster.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, it’s worse,” Mark snaps, voice rising. “You didn’t say anything directly—you just let your paranoia fill in the blanks.”

Cecil glances up at last, his countenance dull, inscrutable. “You want to tell me I’m wrong? That what happened in the district didn’t show we’re in over our heads?”

Mark moves forward, fists clutched at his sides. “She didn’t do anything. The anomaly discovered her. And instead of asking why, or allowing her space to digest it, you sat in a room full of people and spoke about her like she was already halfway to being a villian.”

“I’m talking about keeping people safe.”

“You’re talking about caging the first person who’s actually connecting to whatever’s going on.”

Cecil stands then, gently. He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t bristle. He merely moves around the table, pausing a few steps from Mark, that same inscrutable face securely in place.

“Mark,” he replies, “you care about her. I know that. And that’s exactly why you’re not thinking clearly.”

Mark shakes his head. “You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything you’ve done. Not after how many times you’ve used people.”

Cecil’s voice hardens. “And it kept the world spinning. Do you think I like this? Do you think it’s easy, witnessing someone I helped nurture into a soldier transform into something I can’t predict?”

Mark moves in closer, chest rising and falling. “She’s not a threat.”

“She’s not stable.”

“She’s human.” Mark’s voice is firm. “She’s scared. She’s being driven apart by things no one else understands, and instead of helping her, you’re already creating a prison.”

“She is the prison, Mark!” Cecil eventually breaks, the cold mask breaking. “We’re not talking about trauma or volatility anymore, we’re talking about a possible anchor point for a dimensional collapse! If she slips, it won’t be a breakdown. It’ll be an event.”

Silence.

Mark stares at him, teeth gritted, his hands quivering with the effort it takes not to shatter anything.

And then, softer—deadly quiet: “She heard you.”

That causes Cecil pause. “What?”

“She was outside the door.”

Cecil’s mouth parts, barely. “That wasn’t—”

“She heard you planning to isolate her. She heard you call her unstable. She heard you say she might not have a choice.”

Cecil’s shoulders slump, ever so little. “That’s… unfortunate.”

“Yeah,” Mark replies, hollow. “It is.”

He takes a step back, his voice low now, devastated.

“You know what the worst part is? She trusted you. Still. After everything. She told me, once, that you were the only one who never flinched when her powers started appearing early. That even as the collar went on, you stared her in the eye. Like she was still a person.”

Cecil says nothing.

“But now,” Mark goes on, his voice straining, “you’re not even pretending anymore. You’ve chosen who she is. What she’s supposed to be. And you didn’t even have the guts to tell it to her face.”

Cecil drops his gaze. “I made a call based on the data.”

“No,” Mark growls. “You made a call based on fear.”

He turns, striding for the door.

“Where are you going?” Cecil asks.

Mark stops, one hand on the sensor panel.

“To find her,” he adds without looking back. “Before you take the last thing she has left.”

And with that, the door hisses open.

And he’s gone.

Leaving Cecil alone.

With nothing but statistics on a screen,

And the silent thought That maybe—for the first time— He’s made a mistake he can’t calculate his way out of.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

You don’t recall leaving.

One second, you’re standing in that hallway, outside the briefing room, hearing your name dissected like a problem to be solved, and the next, you’re moving. Fast. Quiet. Like muscle memory took over. Like your body decided it couldn’t bear another second pushed against that glass door, listening to people who once claimed they had your back act like you were a broken lock about to crack.

You don’t make a scene. You don’t burst in or yell or ask why. You just leave.

The fluorescent lights blur above as you move, too quickly, not fast enough. Every footstep resonating in your brain like it doesn’t belong to you. You’re not sure if you’re holding your breath or if you just forgot how to exhale.

You don’t know where you’re headed. You just know you have to get out.

Past the laboratories.

Past the common area where two interns peek up and then away swiftly, evidently advised to keep their heads down. Past the elevators. Down a maintenance stairs you scarcely think to take. The concrete is cool under your boots. Smells like steel and cold and disinfectant. You keep walking. Keep inhaling like it hurts.

Your hands are shaking. You stuff them in your pockets.

‘They’re going to lock me up again.’

You don’t need to speak it loudly anymore. It’s already burnt into the front of your brain, looping like a warning.

‘They’re going to lock me up again.’

They’re going to take away your name and give you a confinement code. They’re going to reduce you to a danger level on a secret chart and assess your humanity in how still you can keep your hands.

You’re halfway down a lower-level hallway when a voice yells out your name.

You stop. You shouldn’t. You want to keep going. But your feet root to the floor like they don’t belong to you anymore.

Mark rounds the corner first.

He seems breathless. And wrecked. Like every word stated in the meeting scratched its way beneath his skin. His chest rises and falls in tight, shallow motions. His jacket’s partly unzipped. His hair’s a disaster.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he—not at first.

Then he lifts a hand, nearly reaching for you, before he pulls it back like he’s terrified to touch you. Like you may break.

“I was going to tell you,” he adds gently. “I didn’t know—he didn’t—Cecil didn’t say it was about containment until—”

“I heard all of it,” you say, voice low and piercing and too even to be anything but a warning. “Start to finish.”

Mark winces. “I was going to tell you myself. I swear.���

“You let them talk about me like I wasn’t even real.” You don’t mean for it to come out like that. But it does. “Like I wasn’t just outside the door.”

“I didn’t know you were there—”

“That’s not the point.”

Silence. He knows it. You saw it hit him. The remorse seeping behind his eyes like something he’s trying to avoid.

“You’re not alone in this.”

You swallow. Your hands clench into fists in your pockets. “I feel alone.”

Before Mark can speak again, another voice echoes down the corridor.

“Jesus Christ, you walk fast.”

You blink. Look past Mark.

Rex.

He’s jog-walking toward you, appearing as irritated as always but strangely still… different. His hair’s a mess too, and his hoodie’s half-unzipped like he didn’t even bother attempting to make himself appear like a superhero today. But he slows when he sees your face.

And for once, he doesn’t crack a joke. Doesn’t smirk. He merely exhales, long and low.

“You good?” he says.

You don’t answer.

“You heard the meeting,” he says. “Of course you did. And sure, it was a shitshow.”

“You could say that.”

“I did say that. Loudly.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares down the corridor. “I’m probably banned again. Which… is surprising, given I didn’t even formally work here anymore.”

You nearly grin. You don’t.

Mark steps closer to you again. “We’re not letting this happen.”

“‘We?” you inquire, glancing between them.

“I mean,” Rex adds, lifting a brow, “I’m not usually one for emotional solidarity, but yeah. We.”

You glance at them. Really look.

Mark, still too stiff, still trying too hard to mend things with his hands while the damage was in the stillness. And Rex, bracing against the moment with snark and impatience because he doesn’t know how to remain still amid someone else’s agony without squirming. But he’s here. They both are.

“I didn’t ask for you to fix this,” you mumble.

“We know,” Mark says. “We’re not trying to fix it. We just… don’t want you to go through it alone.”

You don’t notice you’re shaking until Rex’s voice softens.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re still you. Powers or no powers. Glitches or no glitches. And if they think they can box you up like some sort of scientific project, they’ve got another thing coming.”

You finally breathe. Really breathe. A full breath.

And your voice, cracked, exhausted, human, says

“I don’t know who I am if I can’t use what I am.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Mark promises. “We’ll figure it out.”

Rex nods. “And if not, we’ll blow a hole in the wall and bust you out. Old school.”

You nearly laugh.

And for now, that’s enough.

You don't go back upstairs.

Not straight away.

The three of you sat in the maintenance corridor like students who fled class and sought a quiet stairway to pout in. It's chilly down here, concrete and buzzing pipes, the subtle industrial scent of metal in the air, but yet it feels more honest than the briefing room above. No one’s faking here. There’s no plan, no tact. Just the raw weight of what was spoken, and what it represents.

You sit with your back against the wall, legs splayed out in front of you. Mark’s a few feet distant, head low, forearms braced on his knees. Rex sits directly on the floor, hoodie hood pulled up halfway over his head like he can hide from the shitstorm building over all of you.

No one speaks for a time.

It’s Rex who breaks the stillness first, because of course it is.

He huffs out a breath. “You ever notice how every time we think we’ve figured things out, Cecil finds a way to make everything feel like a trap?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t think it ever stopped feeling like one.”

Mark doesn’t look up. “It’s different now. He doesn’t trust us, he doesn’t trust you. And that changes everything.”

“I don’t think he ever really trusted me,” you add gently, startling yourself with how solid your voice sounds. “I think he just convinced himself he could manage me. Same as the collar. Same as the basement cell. Keep me quiet, keep me confined, make sure the leash is long enough that I don’t realize it.”

Mark finally glances at you. “I don’t think of you like that.”

“I know,” you whisper, gazing away. “But he does.”

“Yeah, well…” Rex mutters, tossing a little bolt he discovered on the floor and catching it again. “Cecil’s whole thing is turning people into weapons and then getting mad when they don’t want to stay pointed at the target.”

You grin weakly, the type that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s a good line. You should write that down.”

“I would, but then he’d probably have me assassinated.”

That earns a giggle from you. Mark, too, makes a tired huff of amusement, even if he still looks like he’s carrying the weight of the entire debate upstairs.

“I keep thinking…” you trail off, fingers fumbling in your lap. “What if they’re right? What if something’s changing in me and I don’t even realize it? What if the next time I glitch, I pull half the city with me?”

“You won’t,” Mark responds quickly.

“You can’t know that.”

“I do,” he affirms, voice quiet but definite. “Because I’ve seen you fight harder to stay grounded than anyone I’ve ever met. Even before we realized what you were capable of. You’re not reckless. You’re afraid. And that’s okay.”

You swallow heavily, throat burning.

“But being scared doesn’t mean you’re out of control,” he continues.

Rex lays out alongside you with a groan. “Also, side note, if you ever did pull half the city with you, I’m like 80% sure I’d still be on your side. Might complain the whole time, but I’d be there.”

You laugh, actually laugh, and it’s a touch wobbly, a little shocked. “Thanks, Rex.”

“Hey, I’m a man of loyalty. And sarcasm. Sometimes both.”

You rest your head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “I used to think that if I stayed good, if I followed the rules, if I made myself useful enough… they’d stop being afraid of me.”

“And?” Mark asks softly.

“They’re never going to stop being afraid.”

The words hang in the air like frost.

Rex shrugs. “Fuck 'em.”

You gaze at him.

“No, seriously,” he adds, supporting his elbow on one knee. “Let them be scared. You’re not here to make them feel safe. You’re here to be you. And if that comes with a little chaos? Fuck it.”

Mark exhales gently. “You don’t have to earn your right to exist. You’re not a weapon. You’re you. And that’s okay.”

You nod. Your eyes hurt.

And you don’t say it, but you think it:

I want to believe you.

A long stillness follows, yet it’s not heavy. Not this time. It’s the type that creeps in when there’s nothing left to protect and no sense pretending.

Finally, Mark gets himself to his feet and reaches out a hand.

You take it.

He lifts you up, steady and warm, his fingers lingering around yours.

Rex stands too, reluctantly, with a groan, and raises his arms above his head.

“So what now?” he says.

You wipe at your face, swallowing the last of the shakiness in your chest. “Now?”

You peek up the stairway toward the conference room, the chamber that still smells like uncertainty and policy and control. Then you look back at them, Mark, with his loyalty so intense it hurts; Rex, with his cynical voice and surprising sensitivity.

And you take a breath.

The sun hasn’t yet fully set as you push through the glass doors at the front of HQ. The air outside is sharp and crisp, early evening chill stinging against the warmth still clinging to your skin from the walk down. Street sounds are distant, muted by the thick paneled walls behind you. Mark and Rex are still somewhere inside, wrapping off loose ends with the briefing aftermath. You’d told them you needed air. That you only needed a minute.

You weren’t lying.

You just didn’t realize how little time you had left.

You’re halfway down the front stairs when it hits.

It’s not gentle. Not slow. Not like the earlier pulses that bled in at the edges of your senses like whispers in the dark.

This is violent.

A tug in your chest, swift and sharp, like a hook inserted beneath your sternum, pushed forward by unseen hands. Your knees buckle and you grab yourself on the steel railing with a strangled gasp, hand burning from the friction. Your vision becomes white for a second, then dark, then wrong.

The world bends.

The city before you, cars, streetlights, the gentle glow of offices in the tower across the street, all of it twists.

The air around you warps like heatwaves, yet there’s no heat, only pressure. Crushing. The sky overhead spreads thin, like paint stretched across canvas too fast. Colors flow into one another, amber into violet into green into something you don’t have a name for. Everything feels too slow and too fast at the same time, like time itself is trying to go in two ways at once and can’t decide which one to select.

Your air shudders out of you in short spurts.

You strive to focus, to anchor. You smack your hand against the rail, attempting to anchor yourself with pain, with feeling. It doesn’t work. You can feel yourself flickering, your thoughts changing in and out of rhythm with the environment around you. Your fingers appear overly long one second, too short the next. The cityscape in front of you swirls, becomes rural, then old, then alien.

Your knees strike the pavement. Hard.

You don't recall falling.

A scream is swelling in your throat, but you don't let it out. You can’t. Because somewhere behind the pandemonium, someone is watching you again. You can feel it. Like a presence just beneath the curve of space, pressing against the seams of the cosmos.

Then the voice returns.

Not uttered. Not out loud.

Not again.

It’s thought. But not yours.

The pressure surges, and the world around you shatters—at least that’s what it feels like.

The sidewalk slips away like paper. The air turns to glass and eventually to smoke. You see flickers, images sewn together like frames from several films: your own face, older; Mark’s figure, bloodstained and bleak; a battlefield under two suns; Rex standing in a corridor of mirrors, staring at something he doesn’t recognize.

You attempt to yell his name, but your voice melts into static.

And then—

It everything slams back.

Like someone snapped a rubber band across the sky.

You’re on the steps again, face pallid, chest heaving, palms scraped open. Your knuckles sting from how firmly you must’ve squeezed your hands. Your body is shivering uncontrollably, your whole neurological system screaming for a solution your brain doesn’t have.

But the street? The city? Back to normal.

Pedestrians stroll past if nothing happened. A man examines his phone as he passes you, hardly even glancing your way. Like you didn’t just glitch through time itself.

You’re still on your knees.

You can still feel the imprint of that voice behind your eyes.

Footsteps behind you—fast.

It’s Mark. And behind him—Rex.

You attempt to speak, but your throat is raw. Mark’s already kneeling alongside you, hands on your shoulders, anchoring you, frightened. You can see it on his face. He’s seen you afraid before. But never like this. Not like you’ve just came back from somewhere else.

“I’m fine,” you manage, but you sound far from it.

“No, you’re not,” he replies, eyes searching you like he’s checking for wounds he can’t see. “You’re shaking—what happened?”

Rex crouches on your other side. “What the hell was that? You look like you just went through a blender.”

You chuckle once, short, empty. “I think I just… went somewhere. Or everywhere. I don’t know.”

Mark’s jaw tightens. “You glitched.”

“No,” you answer, voice hushed now. “This wasn’t a glitch.”

They both glance at you.

And when you finally lift your head, eyes wide and wild, voice quivering with the weight of what you felt, what you heard, you say

“It’s getting closer. Whatever it is. It’s looking for me.”

You're still kneeling as the next wave hits.

It’s not as sharp as the first, not a blade this time, but a pulse. Rhythmic. Deep. Like the city itself is breathing, and the breath is wrong. Too sluggish. Too loud. You feel it through the soles of your boots, the bones in your jaw. The type of emotion that doesn't come from outside, it blossoms inside your blood, like your own heartbeat has gone out of rhythm with time.

And suddenly the world flickers.

Hard.

The sidewalk under your palms fractures, not with cracks, but with possibilities. You see flashes of it as stone, as sand, as nothing.The skyscraper opposite from HQ, glass-fronted, elegantly corporate, sputters like a dying bulb. One second it’s clean, next it’s a skeleton of itself, twisted metal beams stretching like fingers into a bruised crimson sky. You blink, and it’s back. Blink again, and it’s gone, replaced by its own devastation, then with something… alien. The city continues moving around you. Layered.

You double over, gasping, but the air’s too thick now. Tastes like static. Smells like ozone and ash.

“Hey!”

Mark’s voice rips through it again, but this time it’s not alone.

More footsteps. The unmistakable sound of powered boots, of hard impact, of gasping terror and armor plates sliding. The Guardians are rushing outside. Eve, already gleaming. Bulletproof searching the horizon, anxious and ready. The Immortal with his jaw set like a thunder cloud.

“What’s happening to her?” Eve sighs as she draws to a standstill, eyes widening at the warped skyline.

Black Samson doesn’t answer. He’s looking, frozen. Because the buildings? They’re not just flickering. They’re clashing. Existing and unexisting in jagged spurts, like time is struggling to remember which version it wants to retain. Every window becomes a coin flip. Whole streets dissolve into themselves before springing back.

And you—at the core of it.

You grasp the sidewalk like it’ll hold you attached, but even your hands are splitting, replicating in flashes, one minute bleeding, the next scarless. One hand tiny and childish. Another older, weathered, sporting a ring you’ve never seen.

Mark says your name again, gripping your shoulder now. His grasp is solid, anchoring. He’s kneeling with you, ignoring the flickers, gaze fixated on you. “Stay with me. You’re here.”

But then you see her.

The original version. Just to your left.

You turn, and there you are. But not you. A version of you, slumped over and bleeding out, eyes vacant. Another, across the street, limping, face half-covered in soot and ash.

You can’t breathe.

You stand without realizing it, wobbling upright, Mark rising with you in fear.

“They’re me,” you say, breath fogging in the thickening air. “I’m seeing… versions of myself.”

Eve’s voice is near now, wavering yet firm. “What do you mean?”

“They’re all me,” you remark, glancing around. “Dead. Different. Like the barrier’s gone. Like they’re leaking in.”

Bulletproof’s scanning grows quicker, more agitated. “I’m picking up energy signatures I can’t track. This isn’t just her, it’s multiversal bleed. All across the block.”

“No,” you murmur. “Not the block. Just around me.”

And then, another flash.

This one feels like it rips through you.

Your knees buckle, and suddenly, the city’s gone. Or not gone, replaced. You’re standing in a crater. Rubble. Screams. A crimson sky filled with smoke. And in front of you, Mark, broken and immobile, a version of him dead at your feet. Your knees strike the earth with a hollow sound, your lips wide in a mute scream. And then—just as fast—it’s gone.

You’re back.

Still on the HQ stairs. Still surrounded by people chanting your name.

You slump on Mark’s chest.

“I saw a version where you died,” you gasp, voice strained. “Where I killed everything. Where I—I don’t even think I was me anymore.”

He hugs you tighter.

“Listen to me. That’s not this timeline. That’s not you.”

“How do you know?” you snap, trembling. “How do you know I’m not becoming her? That thing—whatever’s pulling at me—it’s growing stronger. It’s not random anymore. It’s reaching through.”

You glance at him, desperate. “And I think it wants me to help it.”

The streetlights overhead flicker.

The air pulses again—slow and deep. A heartbeat. Not yours. Not human.

Behind you, Rex whispers: “Okay. Yeah. We are gone over red alert.”

The Guardians create a half-circle around you as the air begins to twist again. And Mark, still holding you, stares up at the changing sky, his mouth tight.

“We need to get her inside. Now.”

“I don’t think inside’s going to matter,” you mumble. “If it wants me, it already has me.”

And even while they strive to shelter you, to protect you, to fix whatever this is…

You realize

They’re not fast enough.

No one is.

Because the fractures aren’t only in the world anymore.

They’re in you.

The surge collapses like a wave reaching shore.

No huge explosion, no cinematic end. Just a long, rattling sigh from the cosmos, as if it had been holding its breath through you, and finally let go.

The metropolis returns to itself in parts.

The flashing ends. The buildings settle. The lights stabilize. That awful vibration in your bones begins to lessen, not evaporate, but recede like a predator that’s gotten its full for now. The distortion in the air disappears, leaving a peculiar silence behind. Not peaceful. Stunned.

You’re still crushed against Mark’s chest, your fingers fisted in the fabric of his jacket like it's the only solid thing left in your world.

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumble. It comes out hoarse. Weak.

“I know,” Mark breaths into your hair. “I know.”

But the others, Eve, Samson, Bulletproof, they’re all still there. Watching. Not with terror, not precisely, but with a kind of wide-eyed tension that aches more than you want to acknowledge. Like they want to believe in you. Like they're trying. But the vision of skyscrapers melting into ruins and your own shattered self standing shoulder to side with shadows of who you may become, it’s new. Still engraved in their pupils like afterimages from a too-bright light.

You can feel it. The change in the air.

The fear.

And then—

Footsteps.

Measured. Familiar. Cecil.

He passes through the wrecked HQ door carefully, signature red tie blowing softly in the air, clipboard discarded for once. No security crew, no guards. Just him. And that look on his face, that terrible, inscrutable expression you know too well.

He doesn’t appear furious. That would be easy. Anger is harsh and loud and predictable. But this?

This is disappointment. Confirmation.

He steps across a cracked chunk of pavement. The pavement where you slumped is still charred, still shimmering faintly with leftover electricity. There are signs where the concrete split, charred lines spiderwebbing away from where you stood like lightning scars.

He pauses a few feet in front of you, observes the street like he’s filming the crime scene of something inevitable.

And then, gently, like he doesn’t need to raise his voice to gut you—

“You just proved my point.”

Your heart lurches.

Mark’s body tenses around you, but you’re already pushing away, staggering to your feet. Your hands won’t quit shaking. Your skin’s chilly and burning at once. You’re not sure how you’re still standing.

“You don’t understand,” you say, breath shallow. “It’s not me. It’s something else, something that’s using me. I didn’t do this!”

Cecil’s face doesn’t alter. “That distinction may not matter anymore.”

The words struck harder than anything else that’s happened all day.

You feel your chest constrict. Like a fist is tightening around your lungs. You gaze at Mark, but he’s still frozen. Still torn between protecting you and digesting what just transpired.

“I can’t go back,” you remark abruptly, your voice rising. Your eyes widen at the understanding. “I can’t—I can’t go back to the facility. You’re going to lock me up again, I know it.”

Cecil’s quiet is deafening.

You step back. “No. No—no, I’ve been there. I’ve done it. You can’t—”

Mark starts as he says your name, advancing near you again.

You shake your head. “You said you wouldn’t let them do that again. You promised—”

“I meant it!” he shouts, but it sounds too thin now. Too little next to what you just done. What you are becoming.

Your breathing spirals. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

You backpedal like you’re under assault. “It’s not me—it’s not me! I was trying to stop it, not cause it—God, I didn’t ask for this—”

“Then control it,” Cecil adds.

Your vision blurs. “You think I didn’t try?”

You feel the panic rising in your chest, acidic and quick. You want to run. You want to scream. You want to dig your fingers into your flesh and pull whatever this thing is out of you until you’re clean again, human again.

But you know it won’t work.

That voice wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know how,” you gasp out. “I don’t know how to stop this.”

Cecil takes one step closer, and even though he doesn’t raise his voice, the weight of it crushes the gap between you.

“That’s exactly why we have to contain you.”

You snap.

“No,” you say, too loud, too fast. “No, I’m not going back in a cell. I’m not going to be your experiment again. I’m not your mistake to take care of.”

And your voice—your power—echoes when you utter it. Just barely. Just enough to make the air ripple.

Eve steps forward then, cautiously. Hands lifted.

She whispers gently. “Just breathe, okay? Nobody’s taking you anywhere.”

But you don’t hear her. You’re already withdrawing within your thoughts, terror flashing like broken lights. Because you know how this ends. You've seen it. You just saw it.

You don’t get to be the hero.

You get to be the anomaly. The event. The variable that becomes too unstable to live freely.

And now the worst part? You’re starting to believe they’re right.

Mark says your name again, voice breaking now, coming between you and Cecil. “Look at me. Just—look at me.”

You do.

And for a minute, it’s only the two of you.

“You’re not alone. I’m still here. No matter what.”

You believe him. And you don't.

Because the tempest inside you doesn't care who loves you.

It only knows how to develop.

And in the silence that follows, you mumble the one thing you’re actually terrified of.

“I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Mark comes forward like a hurricane coming to a standstill, fast and sharp, yet terrifyingly silent. You’re still breathing behind him, your body trembling so violently your knees are barely holding you upright. But you don’t fall. Because he’s already there. Not simply in front of you—in the way.

His voice, when it comes, is low. Measured. Too calm. And it’s the type of stillness that causes everyone in the radius stop breathing.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Cecil doesn’t blink. His hands are folded behind his back, tie flapping lightly in the breeze, the shattered concrete below breaking faintly from the residual energy still vibrating through your body. He keeps his eyes on Mark, but the air between them seems like it’s going to crack.

“I wasn’t asking,” Mark says, louder now. “She’s not going back.”

Rex moves next you, calm for once. No jokes. No sarcasm. Just observing with that unique, coiled knowledge of his that only shows up when things are going to go very awful.

Cecil’s eyes dart past Mark. To you.

You feel it—his stare like a weight over your shoulders, measuring you up like statistics, like figures. Not Ace, but a threat profile. A prospective occurrence. A ticking clock.

Mark sees it, too.

And something in him snaps.

“You don’t get to look at her like that,” Mark yells, pushing forward again until they’re nearly chest to chest. “Like she’s a problem you’re going to solve if you just put her back in a box.”

Cecil doesn’t move. “She just fractured three timelines, Grayson. In the midst of downtown. No warning. No control. You really want to tell me I’m wrong to be cautious?”

“I want you to shut the hell up about her like she’s not standing right behind me, terrified.”

You’re hardly breathing.

It’s too much. The air. The electricity still fizzing under your skin. The versions of yourself still flashing across your memory, burned-in ghosts of who you could be, who you will be, if this monster inside you keeps driving you apart.

You grip your arms firmly over your chest, like it’ll protect you from drifting away.

“I can’t—I can’t go back there,” you say, voice weak and cracking. “Please—Mark, I can’t. I can’t be locked away again. I’ll break. I’ll—I’ll lose myself. I’ll disappear and you won’t even know me when—when—”

Mark turns, fast, holding your face in both hands, pushing you to look at him.

“Hey. Look at me. You’re not going away. Not without me. Not like that.”

“I hurt people—”

“No, you didn’t,” he says. “You held it in. You stayed. You fought it.”

“But what if I don’t next time?”

“Then we handle it together. But I will not let them put you in a cell again and pretend they’re helping.”

You hear it, then.

The despair. The terror he’s concealing underneath the wrath.

He’s just as afraid as you.

And then Cecil speaks again—calm, cold, terrible.

“…Fine.”

The phrase drops like a cold stone in water.

Mark narrows his gaze. “What?”

Cecil exhales slowly. “She doesn’t go back. Not yet.”

Your knees buckle, and Rex takes your arm, steadying you.

“But,” Cecil adds, stare going steel-sharp again, “if she loses control again—if someone dies, or if the city folds in half, or if she tears another hole in the goddamn multiverse—then I won’t ask twice. Not again”

The quiet is immediate.

Final.

“And I won’t send a team next time,” he continues. “I’ll come myself.”

Mark moves forward again like he’s going to swing, but you seize his hand, fingers shaking.

He stops. But only just.

Cecil greets your eyes. For the first time, you see something flash there, not malice. Not cruelty. But something that hurts. Something that looks a lot like guilt wearing a mask.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” he says. Quiet. Honest. “But I will. If it comes to that.”

He turns, going back toward HQ.

And for the first time, you don’t feel safer inside.

You stand there for a moment, the air chilly against your sweat-damp skin. The sun has fully set now, and the destroyed block is lighted by emergency lights and the faint hum of shattered streetlamps. Everything’s still.

Mark hasn't let go of your hand.

Rex sighs alongside you. “So. That was fun.”

You don’t laugh.

You just glance up at the sky, where the colors finally stopped moving.

But you know it’s not over.

The city holds its breath around you.

Somewhere in the distant, sirens blur into the wind, their warbling call dying off as fast as they came. Above, the sky has finally settled into a genuine night, no more changing purples and greens, no flickering stars spilling across histories. Just a peaceful, cloud-cloaked black extending over the ruins below. But the stillness isn't peace. It's aftermath. That dreadful silence following the scream, where everything is too motionless, too meticulous.

You can still feel it humming under your skin.

Your body feels like it’s been stretched thin across realms. Your fingertips hurt. The bones in your legs feel like glass. But worse than that, you still feel it. That thing inside you. The echo of a tug that hadn’t come from outside, but from within. It’s quiet now, coiled someplace deep, but it’s still there.

Waiting.

Watching.

And you don’t know if it’s asleep or simply being patient.

Mark hasn’t moved since Cecil went away.

Neither have you.

The rest of the Guardians linger around the periphery, Eve, arms crossed and face pale, watching with concern but giving you space. Bulletproof muttering quietly into a comm, trying to coordinate a safe perimeter around the city block that just witnessed three alternate timelines crash into each other like waves.

And Rex? Still on your left, one hand clutching your arm, not tight, not constraining, just steady. Grounding. In case you fall again.

Your knees hurt. You’re still trembling. You haven’t uttered a word since Cecil departed, but the ringing in your ears hasn’t stopped.

Cecil’s words replay in your thoughts like a hammer on a bruise.

“If she loses control again… I won’t ask twice.”

The threat was almost gentle, and strangely that made it scarier. He wasn’t being harsh. He wasn’t even being theatrical.

You finally find your voice, silent and empty. “I don’t think I can fix this.”

Mark’s hand tightens around yours. “Yes, you can.”

“I don’t know how,” you mumble. “This isn’t just telepathy. Or projection. It’s not a power I can shut off. Something’s waking up in me, and it doesn’t care if I’m ready.”

Your chest tightens again. “It doesn’t ask. It takes.”

You gaze up at him, blinking tears from your eyes.

“And what if next time… it’s not me anymore? * What if it turns me into something you can’t stop?”

Mark’s jaw tenses. His eyes flare with something urgent, something hot and furious below the terror. “Then we drag you back. We fight for you. We don’t toss you in a goddamn prison.”

He draws you closer, voice low. “I’m not letting them take you from me.”

Your breath catches.

And suddenly, behind you, Rex speaks, dry but not nasty. “Yeah, seconded. For the record.”

You gaze at him.

He shifts uncomfortably, massages the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not exactly known for... emotional intelligence. Or stability. Or anything useful, actually. But I do know what it looks like when someone’s going to spiral and everyone around them starts flinching.”

He flicks his chin toward HQ. “That’s what they’re doing. Flinching. Preparing for the version of you that goes nuclear.”

You gaze at the ground.

Rex steps closer. “But you’re still here. Not some glitch. Not a recollection. You.”

“And we’re here, too,” Eve murmurs gently from the shadows. She goes over, kneels by you. “If this thing is in you, whatever it is, we figure it out. Together.”

For the first time since the world bent around you, something in your chest moves. Not fear. Not power. Just something small.

Hope.

You slump to the concrete again, this time not because you’re falling, but because you need to sit. Because you need to feel the earth and remind yourself that it’s real.

Mark sits next you without reluctance. Shoulder pushed to yours. Warm. Steady. Rex crouches on your other side, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like he can’t keep still even in comfort. Eve crosses her legs in front of you. She’s gleaming faintly. Always.

The city is slowly returning to normal. Or at least trying to.

But you’re still terrified.

You sit there in the rubble of your darkest moment.

Hands bleeding, flesh tingling with something not quite yours.

The darkness breaks wide open.

You barely have time to scream before the world itself breaks open behind Mark.

No warning. No signal from your power. No gut-deep instinct like previously. This time it comes from somewhere else. A wound in space—vertical and bright green, sickening and pulsating like a pulse out of tune with the cosmos.

Mark turns—too late.

The tear taking him.

One second, he’s standing alongside you, hand on your back, chest rising with the same breath as yours. The next, he’s jerking forward like somebody lassoed him from the chest.

“Mark!”

Your scream doesn’t echo. The sound gets swallowed by the gateway, drawn into the infinite, churning light. Green arcs of electricity wrap around his limbs like they were *waiting* for him, dragging him toward the breach.

It’s him.

It’s not random.

This isn’t a glitch. It’s a target.

Mark’s fingers claw at the air, grasping for you—his eyes wide.

You don’t hesitate.

You launch toward him with everything you have left.

Your fingers find his wrist, grip tightening until your knuckles become white. He clutches your forearm in response, just as urgently. You sink your heels into the earth, already sparking with mental energy, pushing against the pull like you’re attempting to keep back the water.

The city transforms again around you. Pavement warps. Wind howls. Debris flies toward the green light like it’s being fed into a vacuum.

You lock eyes with him.

“I’ve got you,” you say, voice trembling. “I’ve got you!”

But even as you say it—you feel it in your core.

You’re losing him.

His grasp starts to slip. Not because he’s letting go. But because the pull is greater than anything you've ever felt, stronger than the universe wants you to be.

Eve’s shouting your name, but it’s far. Rex is rushing toward you, energy gathering in his palms.

Mark’s voice bursts over the thunder of the gateway.

“Let go.”

“No!”

“You have to.”

“I won’t.”

His fingers are slipping. His hand’s shaking so violently you can’t tell whether one of you is breaking apart quicker.

You see it in his face.

He knows.

This is the only way.

If you don’t let go, you’ll go with him.

And then, you make the mistake of looking into the portal.

You see it.

The other Mark. The one grinning. Standing just over the threshold. White clothes bathed in black-red blood. A reflection of the man you love, warped by something evil and eternal. He extends his hand in a false wave, then tilts his head, daring you.

Your grasp falters for a fleeting second.

It’s all the gateway needs.

Mark’s fingers fall from yours—

—and he’s gone.

Swallowed whole.

The gateway crashes shut with a sound like thunder underwater.

The street is silent.

The wind ceases.

The world halts.

And you—

You’re still grasping for him.

Your arm is stuck mid-air. Your body still shaking from the exertion. But your hand is empty. The space in front of you is empty. Your chest is—

Gone.

The scream that exits your mouth isn’t a sound. It’s a wound. It breaks loose from your ribcage like it had claws. You drop to your knees, not because your legs gave out, but because everything else did.

He’s gone.

Mark is gone.

And the last thing he did was make you let him go.

Rex falls to your side first, grabbing you before your face meets the concrete. “Shit, shit—stay with me.”

You’re not hearing him. You’re seeing green.

Eve is already on communications, her voice breaking. “We just lost Mark—Cecil, did you see that? Did you see that?!”

But even despite the mounting fear, the reinforcements rushing to the scene, the Guardians attempting to put together what just occurred, one thing becomes plain to you.

This wasn’t about your power.

This wasn’t about a mistake.

The breach came for Mark.

Specifically.

And now he's somewhere else.

Alone.

Or worse… with another version of himself.

You clamp your palms to your lips, shivering so furiously you can't breathe.

“I was holding him,” you murmur. “I was holding him.”

And no one knows how to answer you.

Because the truth is too terrible to express out loud.

You were.

And you still lost him.

The stillness once the gateway closed was awful. Not the tranquil kind, the sort that follows explosions.

The sort that fills your ears when your heartbeat is too loud, too sluggish, too empty.

You’re still kneeling where you collapsed, right hand floating mid-air like it’s waiting for his fingers to return. Waiting for him to bring you back to your feet as he always does, like this was just another near-death event to add to the long, terrifying list.

But he’s not there.

And this time, you know he isn’t coming back. Not today. Maybe not ever.

You taste blood in your tongue. You don’t remember biting your tongue, but it makes sense—somewhere in the shrieking, somewhere in the sob that tore away from you like it had a mind of its own. You can’t feel your throat anymore.

You can’t feel anything.

Says your name, one hand clutching your shoulder, his voice shorn of its typical harshness. “Come on. Look at me.”

You can’t.

Because if you look at him, it’s real.

If you speak it out loud, it’s true.

You blink hard, and a tear slides down your face, slow and bitter. You shake your head, still looking at your own hand. “I had him. Rex, I had him. I felt his hand. He was right there.”

Rex’s hand tightens.

“I didn’t let go,” you reply, softly. “I didn’t. I swear to God, I didn’t let go.”

Rex doesn’t answer. He doesn’t say ‘of course you didn’t’ or ‘it’s not your fault.’ Because he knows better. He understands such comments don’t help. They don’t touch this type of loss.

Behind you, Eve’s footsteps crunch over the concrete. She’s chatting swiftly into her earpiece—her voice tight, clipped, frantic.

“—Yes. Green energy signature, verified portal breach. No trace of Mark. No reaction from transponder. I said he’s gone, Cecil. Gone.”

She pauses when she sees you. Her face softens.

Her brilliance dims.

She lowers her arm.

You eventually glance up. Your face is pallid. Lips cracked. Eyes dull.

“I think he knew,” you whisper. “I think Mark knew it was coming. Right before it took him—he didn’t even fight it. Not really.”

Eve steps closer. “He was trying to protect you.”

You let out a faint, broken laugh. “He always does. Even when I don’t want him to.”

Rex sits back on his heels, stroking a hand over his hair. “That thing was looking for him. It wasn’t a random glitch. It came for him. You saw it, right?”

Eve nods, mouth hard. “Yeah. And the green? It’s not Ace’s color. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t her power.”

Your head is swimming. “Then whose was it?”

No one answers.

Because no one knows.

Rex rises immediately, pacing. “Okay. Okay. So we find out where it went. We figure out way to track it. We rip the universe a new one if we have to. But we get him back.”

“You don’t even know where he is,” you whisper. “He could be in a dead timeline. An alternative Earth. A collapsed dimension. We don’t know the rules anymore.”

“So what?” Rex says. “This isn’t even in the top five weirdest things we’ve faced.”

You gaze up at him again, eyes rimmed crimson.

Rex shrugs. “I mean. Maybe top three.”

That draws a puff of breath from you. Barely a chuckle. But it’s enough to help him ease a bit.

Eve kneels in front of you now. Her voice is gentle. Steady. “We’re not going to stop. You hear me? We’ll figure out where he is. We’ll discover a way to trace the energy signature, hell, Cecil’s got a whole wing of dimensional physicists already. And you? You’ve seen things no one else has. Whatever this thing is, you’re tied to it.”

You swallow. “So it’s my fault.”

“No,” she says, sternly. “It means you’re our best chance.”

You gaze back at the charred land where Mark vanished. It still hums slightly, like the planet hasn’t entirely healed.

You don’t feel healed either. You feel broken.

But somewhere inside the ache, something snaps.

Resolve.

You adjust your weight, bring your feet beneath you. Rex extends a hand and helps you up.

You wobble, knees weak, yet you stand.

And when you speak, your voice is stronger.

“Get Cecil on the line. Tell him I need every scan of that gateway. Every frequency, every variation, every frame of film. I want to know what took him.”

Rex blinks. “Damn. Okay.”

You keep going. “We’ll build something if we have to. A tracker. A gate. I don’t care. I don’t sleep till we bring him back.”

Eve nods, a gentle grin blossoming through the pain. “There she is.”

You don’t grin back. But the fire’s back in your eyes.

And this time, you’ll rip through reality itself if that’s what it takes to bring him home.

Far away, miles, maybe dimensions, removed from the flickering city skyline and the shattered street where you last stood shouting Mark’s name into a quiet emptiness, he watches.

Not via a screen.

Through a crack.

A window that doesn’t reflect light but bends it. One that hums quietly in the midst of a black chamber, the edges pulsating with residual energy drawn from a dozen dead timelines. It isn’t simply glass, it’s a creation of connected worlds, a multi-dimensional interface bound together with pure will and a deep, burning yearning for power.

And Angstrom Levy is quiet.

Poised.

Patient.

He leans forward with both hands on the edge of the platform, his mismatched eyes mirroring the final seconds of the mayhem in your timeline, your knees striking the pavement, Mark ripped from your hold, the horror on your face as the portal swallowed him whole.

Despair.

Not panic.

Not anger.

Not defiance.

Despair.

The type that unroots you. The type that makes even someone like you hesitate.

Angstrom’s smile curves slowly, carefully. Not wide. Not manic. Controlled. Calculated.

“She’s vulnerable now,” he says, more to himself than to the dimmed lab of alternate-tech and suspended variables around him. “Just what I needed.”

He straightens, the quiet echo of his footfall gentle on the metal floor. All around him, inactive gateways hum faintly, kept in stasis. Each one meticulously adjusted to a version of reality where you’re dead. Even when you never stopped fighting. And a few—his favorite—where you stood at Mark’s side till the end of the world.

He never liked those ones.

Too happy.

He looks to one of the closest monitors. The picture turns slowly—a version of you, fragmented, changed, younger. Held in a containment chamber. Not unlike the ones Cecil formerly used. You were dangerous there too. But tiny. Manageable. Full of possibility that hadn’t yet developed claws.

“I told them she was a liability,” he adds, touching the border of the screen. “They should’ve listened then.”

The picture flickers. Changes. Now it's you again—but this you, there and genuine, hunched amid the debris of your city block, hands clinched around nothing, jaw shaking in the aftermath of loss.

“But now… now you’re mine.”

His eyes travel to another screen. A static-ridden vision of Mark, somewhere away. Struggling in a setting not designed for him. Not human. Not anything he understands.

Angstrom tilts his head, looking.

“Don’t worry, Grayson. She’ll come for you. That’s the point.”

He moves away, hands clenched loosely behind his back.

His voice softens, almost gentle.

He grins again, teeth gleaming and even amid the glow of broken light.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And behind him, a dormant gateway flickers.

Green. Hungry. Alive.

And ready.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

You don’t remember the walk to Debbie’s house.

Not really.

You remember the streetlights passing like ghosts. You remember the cold. How it started to creep into your bones around the time you left the wreckage of HQ, after the emergency teams showed up and Cecil tried to offer you a place to “rest,”like rest could undo what happened. Like a cup of coffee in some sterile GDA room would be enough to stitch back the gaping hole where he had been.

You walked away without answering. You didn’t trust your voice to work.

And now here you are.

Standing on her porch with shaking hands and a shattered soul, unable to bring yourself to knock on the door. You can feel the heat of the house just behind it. You can hear the faint sounds of the TV playing inside, the laugh track of some sitcom echoing through the walls, blissfully unaware of what the universe just stole from you.

Your knuckles hit the wood before you make the conscious decision to do it.

Three sharp knocks.

The sound of them is loud. Jarring. Final.

The door opens faster than you expect.

Debbie stands there in leggings and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back, eyes tired but warm. She was probably just settling in for the night. She smiles when she sees you, until she sees you.

Then the smile drops.

Because you look like you’ve been through something.

And the second you see her face, that familiarity, that quiet kind of strength that only mothers have, you break.

It doesn’t happen all at once. It never does.

It starts in your throat, a sob that trembles before it escapes. Then your knees weaken. Your arms wrap around your own chest, like you’re trying to hold your pieces in. Your breath stutters. Debbie says your name, already stepping forward. Her hands come to your shoulders. “Hey—hey, sweetheart. What happened?”

You can’t answer. You can’t breathe.

“I—” you try. “I lost—I—”

And that’s it. You’re gone.

You fall into her arms like gravity decided to stop pretending. Your body crumples forward, and she catches you like she’s been doing it her whole life. She pulls you inside, one arm wrapped tightly around your back, guiding you gently, urgently, to the couch. She doesn’t ask anything else right away. She just holds you.

Your sobs come in waves. Gut-deep. Ugly. You clutch at the front of her sweatshirt like a child, like someone drowning. Your whole body trembles with the weight of it.

Debbie just strokes your hair.

“I’m here,” she whispers. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s not okay.

But she says it anyway.

Because that’s what Mark used to say.

That thought makes it worse.

“I tried,” you cry. “I tried to hold on. I didn’t let go. I swear—”

She doesn’t say anything.

What can she?

After a while, when your sobs have dulled into tremors, she pulls back just enough to look at you. “What happened?”

And before you can answer, a soft little voice pipes up behind you.

“Ma?”

You turn.

Oliver stands at the threshold of the hallway in tiny pajamas, hair sticking up in wild tufts from sleep. His little feet shuffle as he rubs one eye with his fist, the other hand clutching his toy elephant. When he sees you, his eyes widen.

You try to smile. You fail.

“Bra Bra?” he asks. His voice is small.

Your heart cracks wide open.

You press a hand over your mouth as the tears start again, silent this time. All you can do is shake your head.

Debbie goes to Oliver, scoops him up into her arms. He curls against her chest, sleepy and confused.

“Where Bra Bra?” he asks again, blinking at you.

You inhale shakily. Your voice is a ghost when you speak.

“He’s gone.”

Debbie looks at you over Oliver’s head. “Gone… how?”

You swallow, hard. “A portal. It wasn’t mine. It was something else. Green. It… it opened behind him. Took him. I tried to stop it. I had him, Debbie. I was holding him. But it still—”

You break again, burying your face in your hands.

“I couldn’t save him.”

Debbie doesn’t speak for a long moment. You think she’s processing. Or maybe holding herself together for Oliver, who’s still curled against her, not fully understanding, but sensing the sadness in the room. He watches you with wide, solemn eyes.

“He will come back,” she says finally. Quiet. Steady. “You’ll bring him back. I know you will.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t see it. The thing that took him—it wanted him. This wasn’t random. This was intentional.”

Debbie walks back to the couch, sits beside you, holding Oliver in her lap. She rests her free hand on your knee.

“You brought him back from worse,” she says. “And you’re not alone. We’ll help you. I will. Whatever it takes.”

You look up at her. Your vision blurs again.

“But what if I’m not enough?”

She smiles, tired, broken, but real.

“Then we’ll be enough together.”

Oliver leans out from her arms and crawls awkwardly into your lap. He tucks his little body against yours and rests his head on your shoulder. You cradle him instinctively, your fingers trembling in his soft hair.

“Bra Bra okay,” he mumbles, sleepy.

You press your lips to the top of his head.

You want to believe that.

God, you want to.

But all you have now is the memory of Mark’s voice, his final words.

"Let go."

And the promise you made to yourself in that moment.

You will not rest. Not until he’s home.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

taglist: @ladynoirx321

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[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 15 when MC called Jinwoo is hilarious. I imagine that when the two get to the point in the story where they're in a relationship He would be so so scared whenever MC would be angry and go "Hunter Sung Jinwoo" bshsusjshhhhshw

EXACTLY! Just imagine:

_____

At a casual family gathering at the Sung household, the atmosphere is light-hearted, filled with chatter and laughter. The living room was always bustling this time around.

"Hunter Sung Jinwoo."

The moment your voice cut through the air; everyone froze. The temperature seemed to drop, and even the shadows lurking nearby tensed.

You stood in the center, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Your husband, Sung Jinwoo—the strongest being alive, Shadow Monarch, defeater of countless enemies—gulped audibly.

"Y-yes, my love?"

The rest of the family quickly made their exit.

---

From a safe distance, the Sung family members observe the scene.

Park Kyung-Hye folded her arms, nodding approvingly. "That's my daughter-in-law."

Sung Il-Hwan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dear, do you think we should...?"

Jinho scratched his head in confusion. "By the way, why does Noona call Hyung ‘Hunter’ when she’s mad?"

Kyung-Hye shook her head knowingly, smiling. "She’s got it under control."

"Beats me," Jinah replied. "Been that way since forever. Guess it's their thing.” She looked down and cooed, “Isn’t that right?”

“Baba!”

“Mm-Mama…”

---

Meanwhile, deep in the shadow realm, the shadow soldiers exchanged nervous glances, silently praying for their master. Silence reigned.

Munch. Munch.

All heads turned toward a certain silver butterfly, lounging in the air in her human form.

The shadows blinked.

Trick raised an eyebrow, mouth full of popcorn, like a chipmunk. "What?"

Beside her, her siblings continue the tea party, albeit their attention never left the system’s broadcasting screen. Red hummed, "The drama this time is rich."

---

You leveled Jinwoo with a final glare and deliver the verdict. "No cuddles for a week."

His face crumpled in horror. "Nae sarang! Anything but that!"

You spin on your heel and walked off, your pleading husband following right behind. "Next time, think before you leave the laundry undone, again."

---

Like a film reel snapping to a halt, you woke up with a start. The gentle flutter of your butterflies circling above, their soft hums a soothing melody.

"A dream...?" you murmured groggily, blinking at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. A lingering scent of roses in the air.

Red landed on your nose, silent greetings brushing against your mind.

"Good morning,"

What was I dreaming about again?

_____

May you enjoy this small treat :)

Happy reading, everyone! <3

[nfr-girly]

Cassie McKay x fem reader where the reader interacts and bonds with Harrison is something I'd die to read, pretty please and thank you :)

Cassie McKay x f! Reader (tysm for the request!)

~~~

The whole hospital was drowning in casualties, although everyone had prepared for the rush of patients, supplies were running out fast and nurses were struggling to keep up.

Earlier, Cassie’s ex-husband Chad had come in with their son, Harrison, the pair had attempted to skateboard but Chad had injured himself. As of right now, he was being held overnight for observation and Harrison was in the break room.

You and Cassie had only been together 3 months, Chad was well aware of who you were and when he first learnt about your relationship, he was surprised to hear that Cassie was even into women. He didn’t make a big deal of it, but you still hated the guy. You knew full well of the situation that happened between his disgustingly young girlfriend and Cassie, her being the reason she has her ankle monitor.

Cassie did eventually explain to Harrison that she was seeing someone, and that it was a woman. She hadn’t really dated since her and Chad divorced, so to hear his mom was moving on, and with a woman nonetheless, she was concerned on how he’d feel.

Thankfully, he was perfectly okay with it, and even asked when he could meet you. Unfortunately, since Harrison was living with his dad they barely got to see each-other, you didn’t want to take their precious time together away, so up until now you had never actually met Harrison. You had spoken briefly over FaceTime and you got to know a little about his interests, and he got to know about yours. After the first call, you immediately texted Cassie asking her what he thought of you, to which she replied that he thought you were really nice, to which you were extremely relieved by.

Currently, you were moving around the hospital at the speed of light, constantly checking each zone to make sure there were no patients in yellow that may need to be brought to red.

You found yourself being called over by Cassie, who was performing CPR on a patient. You rush over and help her with making sure vitals are good. Langdon passes a blood bag to you, and you make sure the woman on the table gets the right amount.

Eventually, her vitals become stable and she wakes up, santos comes over to send her off to yellow.

You and Cassie breathe out, trying to catch your breath. She laughs and comes closer to you. “You did good”

You smile and reply, “you’re the one who did the compressions”

She smiles and looks down, you speak up “how’s Harrison doing? Is he okay?”

She looks up and nods. “Yeah, he’s just on his iPad right now, my dad’s coming to collect him.”

You nod, suddenly, an idea pops into your head. “You know maybe I could watch him for a bit? We’ve not spoken in person yet, and I’d love to get talking to him.”

Cassies eyes light up. “That’d be great. He’s just in the break room, I know he’d love to talk to you”

“Okay. I’ll head over there.” You smile at her but before you can walk away, she gently grabs your wrist.

“Hey” she whispers “you okay?” She asks, she’s seen the way you’ve ran around today, she just hopes you’re not stressing yourself out.

“Could be better, I’m okay though. Are you?”

“Could be better.” She laughs

You smile in reply and gently grab her face, kissing her quickly.

You pull away, “I’ll be back okay? You go save lives”

She nods, “okay. I love you” she says

“I love you too” she kisses you once more quickly before you both go your separate ways.

Truthfully, you were a nervous wreck. And not even just because of the events surrounding you, but because of how you were going to make a good first impression on him. Sure, you had spoken over the phone but how you are in person to him will matter the most.

You reach the doors of the break room and take a deep breath. You decide to just get it over with and gently knock on the door, opening it.

You look in to see him look up.

You smile at him. “Hey Harrison. You doing okay?” You close the door to drown out the noise, you look over and he nods

“Yeah. Do you think my mom will be done soon? I want to go home”

You pause and shake your head. “I’m sorry hun but she’ll probably be here quite late, but don’t worry your grandads coming to take you home.”

He nods, but you can see the clear disappointment in his face. You try to think of something to cheer him up.

“What are you playing?” You ask him

His eyes light up briefly. He shows you his iPad, and you take a seat next to him.

“It’s this dinosaur theme park game. You can build rollercoasters and create dinosaurs.”

“That seems good! is it fun?”

“Yeah, do you wanna have a go?” He asks you, and you freeze at the sudden invitation

“Yeah of course” he hands you the iPad and shows you how to play. For the next 5 minutes, you both take turns in playing the game, talking about a number of stuff along the way, like how school is going, how his mom is, etc. Whenever he spoke about his life, you could just tell he was Cassie son through and through.

Eventually, you hear a knock on the door as it opens. You both look up to see Cassie walk in.

“Hey, you okay buddy?” She asks, walking up to Harrison and kissing his hair

“Yeah I’m okay. (y/n) was just hanging out with me.” He looks over to you

She smiles at you, which you return. “Oh yeah? Well tell you what buddy. You know how your dad needs to heal for a little while? Y’ know with his injury and all that?”

He nods

“Well I was thinking, only if you wanted to, would you want to stay with me for a while?” She asks

He looks up immediately, his eyes widen in hope. “Really mom? Could I?” He asks, making her giggle

“Yeah buddy. Maybe (y/n) could come over often too, we could all spend some time together” she looks to you

You smile at her and nod. “I’d like that”. You look to Harrison and whisper. “Only if that’s okay”

Harrison nods and you laugh

A sound comes from your pager, langdons voice can be heard. “Dr (l/n) we have a gunshot wound in the lower abdomen, red zone. If you have your hands free we’d be grateful for assistance.” You look over at Cassie and she sighs

You stand up and place a hand on Harrison’s shoulder. “Well me and your mom have to go help some people, you gonna be okay?” You ask

He nods and you head towards the door, Cassie speaks aloud to her son. “Be good okay? Grandpa will be here soon”

“Okayy” he says, you both smile and gently close the door on your way out. The sudden change from quiet to chaotic fills your ears.

You feel Cassie’s eyes on you, you turn to her

“What?” You laugh

“You were good with him. I appreciate that”

You smirk and reply, “I just hope he likes me. That’s all I want.”

She lands her hand on your waist.

“He does”, you look to her

“He’s not the only one either” she teases

You roll your eyes

“Very unprofessional Dr. McKay” you tease

“Gloria isn’t around, it’ll be fine” she says, you laugh in response

“Cmon, let’s go do our job” you say, grabbing her hand, you both head towards a patient.

Looking at you, Cassie smiles to herself thinking of this new and expanded family she has. She imagines a life in the future, where both you and Harrison have moved in, where the two of you are married, and she finally has this stupid ankle monitor off. She just hopes you’ll stick around, luckily, you’ll be there to remind her you always will.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond is soon to be married to a political arrangement by their mother, so for his last unwed nameday, Aegon takes him to an elite brothel on the street of silk. He’s shy and doesn’t know what kind of woman he wants, so the owner of the brothel send him her most expensive girl to seduce him

A short little thing for Aemond (longer requests are coming, don't worry)

Warnings: 18+, prostitution,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Coming to the street of silk was Aegon’s idea. Unlike his brother, Aemond never visited brothels. They never appealed to him. He’d much rather sit in his chamber and read about the history of Valyria than bed a stranger for some gold coins. But Aegon insited that his brother needed to experience the ‘pleasure of fucking’ before he got wed to a highborn woman for the sake of politics. 

Aemond had never seen a more bustling place. The sounds of ambiance music, laughter and whispered promises filled the space, accompanied by lewd moans in some corners. Women were dancing and parading around scantily clothed as men were pawing at them. 

Holding back a grimace, the prince shifted his eye away from them. Despite his discomfort, he held no judgment for the people who made a living here. Not everyone was born in luxury.

Aegon nudged his brother forward. ‘’Pick the woman you want,’’ he urged as they entered.

Cloak still covering his head, Aemond gave him a quiet hum. 

They separated and ventured into the brothel. Women attempted to seduce him, attracted by his tall stature and youthful face, but Aemond politely rejected their advances, not interested.  

He spent a long time looking around, knowing Aegon would never let him leave the brothel without bedding a woman. 

Exploring further, Aemond followed a narrow hallway lined with makeshift rooms crafted from old sheets, offering a semblance of discretion in an otherwise open environment. The muffled sounds of pleasure emanating from behind closed curtains were more explicit, making the prince not want to take a peek. He wasn’t into voyeurism or exhibitionism. 

‘’Found anyone, brother?’’ Aegon asked after a few minutes, already having his own eyes on a few for himself. 

The taller prince shook his head. ‘’I have not…’’ 

Aegon pursed his lips, observing around them. There were women of every body type, age and hair color, why did Aemond have difficulty picking one? 

Then, it struck him. It wasn't a lack of options that troubled Aemond, but rather a mismatch of tastes. Perhaps he would prefer someone more elegant? Aegon searched for Maege, the owner of the brothel and asked if she had a higher priced woman for a special customer. The plump woman smiled, her eyes shifting to the white hair beneath his cloak. She nodded and Aegon handed her a few gold coins. It was much more than she was requesting, but he figured it would buy her silence too.

Maege showed the way to one of the private rooms of the brothel. They were expensive, therefore only used by exclusive customers. 

Aemond thanked Maege as she opened the curtain for him, and told him to get comfortable. The room was about the size of his bathing chamber and had a large canopy bed dressed in red sheets and cushions ornate of a gold trim. Aemong felt like he had been transported to a completely different brothel. Candles were lit on the cherry-wood tables, bringing light to the room. 

As he waited, echoes of other people's pleasure could be heard. Aemond tried to ignore them, telling himself that this will soon be over. 

After a few minutes of waiting, you pulled the curtain open slightly and slipped inside in silence. Maege had given you a couple of rules before she sent you to the private room. 1. Do not ask the customer any personal questions and keep the talking to a minimum. 2. Treat him with your best services. 3. Never mouth to others about his identity.

You assumed he was a Lord, a married man. Not the Prince Aemond.

You curtsied upon recognizing him, bowing your head before straightening up.  

Aemond glanced at you, his good eye surveying your figure from head to toe. Your hair cascaded down your back as if they hadn't been cut in years, rivaling with his own. Your body was covered by a long chiffon shift that didn't leave anything to the imagination. From the color of your nipples to the curve of your hips and even the slit between your legs. 

He inhaled a deep breath. A part of him wanted to dismiss you, or simply sit in silence for long enough to trick Aegon that he fucked you, but something about you was calling to him.  

‘’What do you want me to do, my Prince?’’ you asked, your peaked nipples poking against the thin, pale fabric. 

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

[inkybitt]

♥︎ Paradise part one ♥︎

(Bill Dickey x Fem Reader)

“♪ Feels right, so fine I'm yours, you're mine Like paradise ♪”

♡-Summary: You walk in to a comic store to find an X-men comic then you bump into some asshole!!

♡-Genre fluff (Sfw)

♡-Warnings: a bit of misogynistic (?) comments and fat jokes

♡-Notes: i am currently working on part two!! Lmk if i went too ooc and hopefully you enjoy this first part!! Also h/n means “his name”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It is a Sunday afternoon and Bill decides to check if Joe’s Comic Store has anything new in stock

He looks around and checks out the comic book aisle he is in the x men's section just browsing around

*what the fuck? $2.25 for an X men comic?.. whatever I'm stealing this* Bill thought to himself

Then he hears the door chime ring he turns his head Bill's eyes widen He sees a girl walk-in

All eyes are on you but Joe seems annoyed thinking that you’re here for attention

Bill was shocked for a bit because what made you stood out was how pretty you were he tried to snap out of his thoughts

Then Bill watches you walk to the comic aisle which is the same aisle he is in, but you are checking out the “invincible” comic section which is a bit further

He notices how you ignore everyone glaring at you as if you just don’t care at all.

Then slowly you walked near the x men’s comic section to the point you were somewhat next to him

Bill tries to act like he is looking for something but in reality, he’s secretly observing you mostly at your hair and clothes what stood out the most was your scent he isn't used to getting a trace of perfume which was very new to him

He isn't used to being close to a girl he started to get a bit anxious but tried to hide it

*meh she doesn't know jack shit about X-men* Bill thought to himself then he had an idea.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

You were checking out for some x-men comics mostly looking for volume 3 due to your little cousin accidentally ripping it

You were just browsing through until you heard someone say “Hey you!” In a snarky tone

You turned your head then you saw this guy with messy greasy hair, a Batman tee shirt, somewhat baggy jeans, and acne all over his face

Then you point at yourself with a confused look “Me?”

“Yes, you! Who else would I be talking to?” He said with a very impolite tone. Although.. he sounded a bit funny how he was trying to act all intimidating

“So you like X-men huh?” He said

“Oh yeah, why you ask?”

Bill started to get a little flustered he didn't get why you were just calm about this in his mind he expected you to be nervous but he just tried to snap out of it

“Well then if you read the comics then.. what's toad's REAL name huh?” He gave you a smug look as he thought you wouldn’t even have an answer

You had to think for a second before answering because you wouldn’t like to look stupid

“Oh isn't it Mortimer Toynbee!?” You said

His jaw dropped he didn’t expect you to get that answer right he couldn’t believe that you knew

You started to giggle due to this random guy trying to humiliate you

Now he got more flustered than ever he felt so stupid he looks pissed but didn't say anything else

You just walk out of the store with the exact volume you were looking for

You start to think about that guy who tried to embarrass you but failed miserably you thought that was pretty cute of him

You started to feel like you had probably seen him around school before but you doubt it

When Bill came back home and headed over to his room he was still pissed about earlier today

*what the hell I thought girls like her were idiots* Bill thought to himself

He did keep on thinking about you and noticed how attractive you are and how calm you were but he would never admit that!..or would he?

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

It's Monday morning and you finish your makeup routine and pick out a black babydoll top with some flare jeans with a washed-off color then put on your “Miss Dior” fragrance

Later on, you were hanging out with your friend group outside on the benches when you saw a group of guys sitting at the lunch tables

You made eye contact with the same guy you saw at the shop last night, he does go to your school!

Then you see one of your (guy) friends walking up to you and waving at you, you break eye contact with that guy from yesterday

“Hey y/n!!”

“Oh hey h/n” you smiled back

You gotta admit you did have a hallway crush on him but it lasted for two days and you never confessed, but you thought it was better off that way

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

Bill was just talking to his club till he made eye contact with you He recognized you from yesterday but then he noticed a guy walk up to you

He started to observe this guy you were talking to, the way you two were almost close together, how you were smiling at him, and the way you looked at him

He started to get pissed off but he couldn’t hide it due to his facial expression although it kinda hit him that you two only talked for a little bit so there isn't much he can do.

“Hey, Bill what's up with you man?” Pete said trying to get him to snap out of his thoughts

“What do you want!!!” Bill yelled out

“Dude whats the hell is wrong with you? I was trying to ask you something” Pete said

“Hey, I think bills turning into a tard!” Josh laughed (at his joke..)

“Fuck off fatso!!..” Bill said

He was trying to get you off of his mind by ignoring you but he just couldn’t theres just something about you..

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

[scudslut]

A New Years Surprise 🎀

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, poorly written smut, oral (fem-receiving), unprotected p in v, porn with some plot lol

a/n: i know i’m a little late but happy new years everyone!:) thought i’d start off on the right foot this year with some Daryl lovin<3 also don’t mind my writing i’m just getting back into it so i’m a bit rusty:/

“God, you’re such a dumbass,” you muttered to yourself, cringing at the reflection staring back at you.

Currently, you were a mess.

Tonight was Alexandria’s supposed ‘New Years Eve’ celebration, like we actually had anything to celebrate or look forward to.

There were always those few people you’d come across over the years, that had somehow managed to keep track of the time passed and as it turns out, Alexandria’s people were very serious when it came to sticking to the old worlds holidays and traditions.

Hell, they’d host parties and backyard shindigs on a regular bases, no prompt needed.

It was bizarre, and even after a full year living here, you still weren’t used to it.

Deep down, a small sliver of you agreed that it was something special about this place. That it somehow kept the hopeful humanity glimmering inside the residents. But the larger, much more sceptical side of you, couldn’t help but notice the flaws of the idea and the dangers of false hope.

Or maybe it was just because you looked fucking ridiculous trying to play dress up.

Either way, you hated the celebrations.

This one in particular though, caught you off guard.

You hadn’t payed much attention to New Years before the world ended, and just assumed that would be the same now; but when you caught wind of the party, you felt your stomach bubble in excitement.

And for one reason only.

Daryl.

You knew Daryl was an absolute sucker for dainty dresses and lingerie and you hadn’t ever gotten the chance to wear something like that for him. But a few days prior, you had stumbled across a small shopping mall on run and found this adorable matching light pink set and had to stuff it away in case the opportunity to surprise him presented itself.

Well, here it was.

And man was that excitement rapidly turning into a full blown panic attack.

Running your fingers through your hair haphazardly, you studied your appearance in the mirror.

You’d only so far put on the lingerie and a small black skirt and you already felt confined and self conscious. The straps weren’t sitting right, the cups of your bra were too big, causing weird awkward gaps.

Sighing, you close your eyes in defeat, resting your head in your hands.

This was just awful.

You could already hear the beginnings of the party going, music and laughter flowing in through your slightly cracked window and it only caused you to sink further into yourself.

You felt your mind slip into your self deprecating thoughts as you began to tune out the world around you, missing the soft creaks of footsteps on the wooden floored hallway.

The door of your shared room was wide open, as it was only the two of you that occupied the small house.

Daryl took you in for a moment, leaning against the doorframe observing your defeated aura silently.

He immediately knew what was bothering you, he could read you like a book at this point. He crept up behind you, gently touching your shoulder as to not frighten you from your thoughts.

Jumping slightly, your eyes flew open and landed on those deep familiar blue ones you adored, staring back at you through the mirror.

His natural scent caught your nose and your body subconsciously began to ease, slumping back into his chest.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” you whisper to him as you notice his eyes drift down your body.

You wrap your arms around yourself, not wanting him to see your failed attempt at a surprise and be disappointed.

You should have known he’d be quicker than you.

“Not so fast, baby,” he says, catching your arms before they can fully shield your torso from him and twisted you around to face him.

“It’s nothing, really Daryl, I-I don’t even know what I was thinking,” you mumble feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

That’s when you notice the dark, lustful glimmer in his eyes and awed expression clear as day on his features.

Oh. He likes it.

Heat pooled in your stomach.

Daryl bunches the fabric of your dainty skirt in his hand contemplatively, drawing it up ever so slowly and tucking it into the waist band to keep you exposed.

You could feel his eyes wander your skin, like soft breathy kisses, from finger tips to the dip of your collar bones.

Your breathe catches as you feel the faintest pressure on your dripping cunt.

“This all fer me?” He whispers, slowly sliding his middle finger from the wet patch on your panties to the tiny pink bow at the hem.

He finger dips into the waist when he doesn’t hear your response, and snaps it back against your skin.

“Y-yes Dar,” you gasp.

Of course it was for him, you were his and he damn well knew that, but he simply couldn’t help himself from asking time to time.

He continued to toy with the bow thoughtfully, letting his finger tips graze over the sensitive skin there. Over your hip bones, stomach, and down to your inner thighs, never allowing too much pressure so it felt like soft tickles.

He enjoyed to watch you pant and writhe. Liked the way your skin would erupt in goosebumps every place he touched.

He was a hunter after all.

He could spend hours playing with every detail of you, work you up until you have tears welling in your eyes and your cunt was practically pulsing.

Though you’d beg and plead for him to stop, to give you what you need, he knew you loved it.

And so did he.

Daryl Dixon was a tease.

“Wanted to surprise you after the party,” you manage to squeak out and his gaze finally meets yours.

“Did ya now?” he mocks, walking you backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed and you take a seat at the edge. He looms over you, thumb grazing your bottom lip and you simply nod back at him.

“Well, ya can be certain there ain’t gonna be no party anymore,” he growls, staring you down like you had offended him somehow.

He harshly grips your hips, pulling them till your ass was practically hanging off the edge and drops down to his knees before you, spreading your legs to make room for himself.

All you can do is watch him, mouth parted open as he manhandles you however he pleases.

“And where did ya find somethin’ so pretty, hm?” he questions gruffly, once again rubbing his thumb over the wet patch forming on your panties.

You lean back on your arms, dropping your chin to watch his movements.

“I-uh, on a run the other day,” you huff, your words stuttering in excitement and anticipation.

Daryl only hums in response, as he dips his fingers and pulls them to the side, exposing you fully to him.

He barely gives you a second to register his actions before he’s dropping his head between your thighs, licking a long strip across your soaked cunt.

Your body jolts in surprised pleasure, your right hand flying to grip his soft brown locks as he laps at your clit.

Moaning loudly, your hips rock into him as he continues to lick and suck, lost in the taste of you.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Your arms are shaking behind you, ready to give out any second as you watch Daryl devour you like you were his last meal on earth.

He always looked so damn pretty, eyes closed and entrapped between your thighs.

He lifts his head, groaning at the sight of you and begins trailing kisses over your hips and down your inner thighs.

“Sweet girl,” he mumbles between kisses, “always thinkin’ bout me, huh?”

Your eyes roll back as you sink to your elbows, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Asked you a question, baby,” he nips at your skin causing a soft sting.

“Always Dar,” you pant, rolling your hips into him again. Your body was pulsing with lust and Daryl could sense how needy you were for him, like it had been weeks without his touch and honestly, it felt like that for him too.

He was about ready to cum in his jeans at the sight of you alone. Legs spread for him, pupils blown wide while you panted and moaned noisily just for him to hear.

Trailing his lips back up, he grips your waist stilling your movements, “What do ya need from me, hm?”

Your mind blanks for a moment, surprised by his uncharacteristic generosity. He was never this quick to give you what you need, always wanting to drag your pleasure for miles and miles until each pretty sound you could possibly make filled his ears.

“Come on now, or do you want me to decide for ya?” he asks again and you quickly shake your head, grabbing him by the shoulders and scooting back until you both were at the top of the bed.

As he lands above you, arms on each side of your head, you finally feel him and how hard he already was.

Rocking into him suggestively, “You know what I need,” you whisper.

Daryl groans from the friction, dropping his head to your shoulder and rutting into you further, chasing your movements.

You hadn’t seen him this worked up and responsive in a long time, and god were you loving it.

You pull his head up to face you and crash your lips onto his, hands finding his belt trying to discard him of it as fast as you possibly can. Daryl’s a panting mess above you, “Baby are you tryna kill me?” he groans when he feels your hands brush against his cock as you attempt to rid him of his jeans.

All you can do is whimper into his mouth as you struggle, and he kicks them down and off the bed.

He grabs you hands and pulls them above you, pinning them down as he begins to attack your neck with bites and kisses.

“Please Dar,” you whine, “need you now.”

“I know baby, I know,” he coos, attempting to soothe you as he draws your skirt and panties down your legs.

You begin tearing at his vest, needing to feel him closer to you, as close as he could possibly get. You feel him chuckle against you, “So eager for me, are ya?” as he lines himself up with your aching core, teasing you even more.

Taking him by surprise, you crush his hips into yours, filling yourself to the hilt all at once. You gasp from from the mixture of pain and pleasure, as Daryl all but whines into your mouth.

“Oh shit, fuck me,” he groans as he begins to slam into you at a bruising pace. You claw at his shoulders, rocking your hips to match his fast movements.

“Just love this cock, don’t ya?” he grunts, lifting one of your legs around his waist to drive into you even deeper.

You felt your brain cloud over, unable to think about anything other than him, drunker on his cock than you’d been from any night of drinking you’d partaken to in the past.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, darling. What did I ask ya?” he repeats, slowing his hips to sensual rolls, so it only stroked that cord in your stomach but kept it from building any further.

“God yes,” you moan, matching his slow but absolutely delicious pace.

Daryl is a groaning mess in your ears as your bodies dance a synchronized rhythm together, moulding into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

His hand snakes between you two, finding your clit easily and he begins to stroke you gently, allowing the fire in your abdomen to build rapidly.

“Oh Dar,” you moan and Daryl only picks up the pace, chasing after his own high to experience with you. Your clutching to him for dear life as he pounds into you quickly, grunting and groaning quiet praises about how good you feel.

You can tell he’s close when his hips start to stutter and shake, losing his rhythm slightly and you finally feel the cord break.

Your body floods with ecstasy, cunt pulsing around him causing his high to come crashing over him with you. Waves of pleasure wash over you as you both come down, his hips slowing to a stop.

He rests his forehead down to yours while the both of you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Daryl start to chuckle against you and your eyes lazily drift open, “What?” you mumble, running your fingers slowly down his back.

“Never was a big fan of surprises before, but ya can bet your ass I am now.”