#so this is technically progress in the sense she didn’t sound like she was being forced to say it

[shoutsindwarvish]

my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, when discussing june holidays at a department-wide meeting today, defined pride as a holiday “celebrating the progress we’ve made as a society toward inclusion of lgbtq people” before briskly moving on

i didn’t think it was possible to center cishet people in a discussion of pride while simultaneously ignoring what a shitshow queer rights have been in the usa this past year in a single sentence but she managed it

[outsideratheart]

Christmas Miracle (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: This technically is not part of my advent calendar series but you guys wanted angst and who am iIto say no. To the anons who sent requests for this, i hope you like it. I know it isn’t quite what one of you asked for but I did try to use both of them to build the fic.

2022 was a rollercoaster of emotions for both you and Alexia. You had immense success with Barcelona despite failing to complete the quadruple. Then Alexia had her injury the day before your first game with England. Whilst the summer was one you will remember for the rest of your life, it is one Alexia wished never happened. 

Off the pitch you spent endless hours at media events and photoshoots, luckily you had each to lean on when things became too much. 

It was the reason why your final appearance of the year was bearable. FC Barcelona requested that the captains of the female team attend the gala so that they can talk about how the women’s game is progressing. 

By the time the event ends both of your social batteries are drained and you are ready to go home. 

“Tonight has been the best so far” you lean back against the leather seat letting the coldness of the fabric calm you. 

“That’s because it was our first one where the world knows we are together. We didn’t have to hide our love” Alexia rests her head on your shoulder. Her fingers interlock with yours as they lay in your lap. 

There were many reasons why the night was a success but none came close the one Alexia said. The summer was a test for many reasons yet despite this your relationship with Alexia grew stronger than ever. Being in a different country when your girlfriend was going through the hardest time of her live didn’t stop you from being there for her and Alexia’s injury didn’t stop her from cheering you on from Barcelona. It was during the final when Alexia asked you if you she could tell the world about the two of you. You obviously said yes having been waiting for her to comfortable enough to do so. 

“I got to dance with the most beautiful girl in the world and everyone else had to watch on in envy” you recall the moment in your head, it was one that had never happened before. The music slowed yet you and Alexia stayed on the dance floor as you swayed to the beat. The crowd around you becomes less relevant with every verse that is played. 

“We certainly stole the show” Alexia says. 

“What’s next? We are officially on winter break. I didn’t really get an off season due to AMOS cup, I’m ready for a holiday” you ask Alexia knowing that she has been working with your manager, who just so happened to be hers, to make sure you got at least two weeks off. No photoshoots, no interviews, no distractions in the slightest. 

“I’m thinking Australia. Me, you, mum and Alba fly out on the 22nd then have an open invite for anyone to join us between Christmas and new year” Alexia used the words thinking loosely. Truth is she has been planning this for a couple of months. 

“That sounds like heaven” you dip your head slightly to kiss her temple. A smile dugs at your lips when you feel her relax into your touch. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence as the radio plays a Spanish Christmas song that Alexia seems to know all the words to. You make a mental note to ask her about it later having never heard it before.

You are calm and still in that moment, holding the woman you love but then out the corner of your eye you can see a set of car lights getting closer and closer. You think it is going to stop but when it becomes clear that the driver has no plans to do so, you do what comes naturally. You protect Alexia. You quickly shift in your seat so that your back is against the door. Alexia doesn’t have a chance to question the movement as the car is hit. 

The force of the impact causes the car to roll but enough times that it remains upright. 

All Alexia can hear is ringing through her ears, her vision is blurred but she tries her hardest to come to her senses. She squeezes her eyes shut then focuses on her breathing. When she opens them again everything is back in focus. The sight she saw filled her with panic and struck fear within her. 

“Ale” Your voice is strained and she can only guess how much pain you must be in.

“Baby, you’re ok” Alexia words are more a form of reassurance for her than you.

She is frozen. What does she do? Does she try to move you? No, in the TV shows they say never move the person as it can cause more harm. There is a deep wound on your side no doubt from the car hitting you. She reaches one arm behind your head whilst the other one applies pressures in hope of stopping the bleeding but she feels warm liquid on her hand which is near your head. When she pulls it away her hand is covered in blood.

“Can you lean forward for me?” 

You eyes fail to focus as they stare into space but you do as she says. When you do Alexia can see a cut on the back of your head. This only fills her with more panic as she knows head injuries are very serious.

“Are you both ok?” The driver, who has managed to get out of the vehicle, asks the two of you.

“I am, I think. Y/N is hurt badly, she has cut to her side and a deep cut on the back of her head. It could be worse I don’t know. What do I do?” The panic grows tenfold as Alexia says your injuries out loud.

“Alexia are you hurt?” the driver asks.

This earns a scoff from the midfielder. How could he not see the shape you are in. Why would he ask about her and not you.

“She is hurt” it is all Alexia can bring herself to say.

“I know and I have already called 112. I have told them that Y/N is injured but they asked me about you”

This made more sense.

“I’m ok, I think” Alexia looks herself up and down and repeats her words.

“You have” you cough suddenly “a cut on your eyebrow”

If the situation wasn’t as serious Alexia would have laughed at your selflessness. Here you are, clearly in pain with god knows how many injuries yet you have taken the time to check her out.

She wants to make a clever remark but when she looks back you she see’s your eyes slowly closing, as if you cannot take no more. The pain rushing through your entire body is becoming too much to bare.

“No, No” Alexia begins crying as the severity and the possible outcome of this becomes real.

“Y/N, baby, mi amor, mi alma” She uses every nickname she have ever given you in hopes that one will register.

“I love you Alexia” It was said like a last affirmation of your love for her “If this is where my story ends then I want you to know I have loved every minute spent by your side and I wouldn’t change it for the world” a single tear runs down your cheek and Alexia is quick to wipe it away.

“Don’t cry for me baby. Focus on the good times we have had, they are ours and will stay with you until the end of time” 

Those are your last words as your body succumbs to the pain. 

The paramedics arrive not long after. As they load you into the ambulance the driver, one that the team had used and who had gotten to know you and the rest of girls well, tells Alexia that he called Jonatan and he has let the team know what happened.

The hospital waiting room is eerily quiet as multiple families wait for updates on their loved ones conditions. Alexia is sat alone in the corner, her hands stained red with your blood. The white trousers she wore are now more pink. Her mind wanders to what happened. She soon finds herself angry with you, which angers her more given the current condition you were in, you chose to put yourself in harms way to safe her. It reminds her of when you were watching some action film, the name escapes her but she remembers you saying that you would sacrifice yourself for her, you said you would take a bullet for her, she never thought for a minute that you would ever prove this to her.

She is so caught up in her own mind that she doesn’t see that she has company.

“Ale” Alba takes a seat near her sister.

The feeling of comfort that her little sister brings shocks Alexia but in that moment she has never been more grateful for her.

Words fail Alexia as every negative emotion rises to the surface. Her body racks with sobs as Alba pulls her close whilst fearing the worst.

“Is Y/N —“ Mapi cannot say the words out loud in fear of getting the answer she didn’t want to hear.

Ingrid pulls her close now knowing how her girlfriend would react if the worse were to have happened to her best friend.

“No, No. Y/N is fine. She is the strongest out of all us. Tell her Alexia” Pina all but begs.

Still, Alexia cannot bring herself to face the team. She cannot look them in eye and say that she is reason why you are in surgery, all because you made the split second decision that her life holds more value than your own.

“Alexia” Leila whispers as she crouches down in front of her friend “are you ok?” 

Again Alexia didn’t expect it. Why was she getting asked about herself when you were in much worse shape. Then it hit her, the nurses must not have told them anything about your condition, they weren’t family. At least not according the the hospital. 

“It was bad Leila. There was nothing I could do. One minute she was holding me then next thing we got hit by a car. She’s hurt Leila, there was so much blood. Her side and her head” 

The team hang on Alexia’s every word as they get told what happened. 

“She is alive, yes?” Mapi asks and for the first time since entering the hospital she has hope. 

“She’s in surgery” Alexia looks up and faces her team “she was unconscious when we got here but the doctors said she had a heartbeat” 

“That’s good Ale” Alba tries to reassure her sister. 

“No Albs, you didn’t see her. She said goodbye, like she was already giving up” 

The girls listen in shock. You had never given up on anything in your entire life, you were too stubborn to do so.

“Y/N doesn’t give up and she won’t leave, not without living her life with you. She has plans for the two of you Alexia. She has told me over and over again about how she plans on marrying you and having a family with you. How one day your children will celebrate with you both as you win games and trophies. Trust me Alexia, she has plans for the two of you and she won’t leave this earth having not done any of them” Mapi uses every ounce of positive energy she has to reassure your girlfriend knowing that you would do the same if you were in her position.

“I don’t if we will get that future maps. I know this is hard for you too, I know she is your best friend and I know that you must be just as scared as I am” Alexia stands for the first time since the team arrived. She stands so that she can embrace her in a hug.

“She’ll be ok Alexia. Our Y/N doesn’t give up without a fight. She needs us to be strong because she can’t” Mapi responds.

The team sit, pace and stand in the waiting room as the doctors work on you in the operating theatre. A hour passes before they see a man, in his late 40s, dressed in scrubs approach them.

“Are you the family of Y/N Y/L/N?” the surgeon asks and everyone nods in response.

Alexia is front and centre as she listens to him explain the surgery and what is next for you.

“I know it must be scary but the surgery went well. She had a brain bleed and some internal bleeding, both of which we were able to control rather easily but due to head trauma she is in a coma” 

Upon hearing this several girls gasp in shock whilst Alexia’s face remains stoic. 

“A coma?” she needs him to confirm what she heard was correct.

“A medically induced coma. Head traumas can be difficult to recover from. You don’t realise how much we use our brain because the tasks come so easily to us. Y/N needs to heal before she come back to you, ok?” 

“She is going to be ok though? The crash was bad, I thought I was going to lose her” 

She can tell the doctor is thinking carefully about his response. The chances of recovery were high but the truth is they won’t know how well the surgery went until you wake up.

“Your girl is a fighter Alexia” 

What she does next is unexpected. She pulls the doctor into a hug, thanking him over and over again for saving you. He of course says it part of his job and that the hard part is all on you. Visitors are allowed and he explains that due to the circumstances and with it being the holidays he will allow everyone in to see you.

“You go in first Ale” Alba hesitantly pushes Alexia towards your room.

Alexia froze at the threshold almost as if she was waiting to be let in. There you laid, unconscious, helpless and unrecognisable. If you were to ask anyone who ever met you and they would say that your eyes were unforgettable yet in this moment as your eyes remain closed Alexia tries and fails to remember what they looked like. The tube that was helping you breath causes a level of panic and fear inside Alexia that she never thought possible. 

When she plucks up the courage to enter the room she doesn’t go straight to you. Instead she chooses to stand at the foot of your bed, her mind running a hundred miles an hour as flashbacks flood her mind. 

She has seen the movies so she knows that she should talk to you and that could help but in there moment she is speechless. 

Then she sees your personal belongings on the table beside you. In the clear bag was your jewellery. Some was what you wore for the gala but what she wanted the most was your everyday Jewellery. Your necklace and the ring you always wore on your middle finger. Every since you met you had these items having been given them when your grandmother passed away. 

She proceeds to place the necklace around her neck and places your ring on her finger. The small sentiment brings her peace having it feel like part of you is with her. 

“Mi alma” she takes a seat beside you bringing your cold hand to her mouth as she places several kisses on the back of it. 

”You talked about our story ending but it is only just beginning. I have so much planned for us, you have to wake up that I can show you” Alexia wipes her nose “Please Y/N”

You don’t answer her, how could you. 

Alexia is alone with for you almost half an hour. Alba knocks gently on the door as not to scare her sister. 

“They can come in” Alexia says like she knows what her sister is about to ask. 

With that rest of the Barcelona girls enter your hotel room. Some go straight to your unconscious form, others watch from afar. 

It’s when Alexia sees Mapi frozen in the door way, much like she was, does she move from your side. 

“She saved my life Maria” Alexia confesses almost like it was a crime. 

“I know” the defender nonchalantly replies. 

“How?” 

“It something she would do. She loves you and I could tell my the way you were acting that there was something more to it than just a car accident” 

“I’m so mad at her. Is that wrong?” Alexia knows that she shouldn’t be mad that you saved her live but the cost of that it sit well with her. Should the worse happen, how could she live with herself. 

“Oh I’m mad at her too Ale. When she wakes up she will have us both to deal with” Mapi tries to lighten the mood knowing that the alternative wasn’t an option. She had to remain optimistic and plan for the future. A future in which you wake up. 

Hours pass, the moon takes place of the sun in the sky and the team get told that visiting hours are over. Unfortunately these rules applied to Alexia regardless of how hard she argues. 

“Ale” Alba grabs her sister’s shoulder “you’ll go home, get showered and get some sleep then we will come first thing in the morning”

“I can’t go home. I can’t go back to our home without her” the vulnerability of Alexia’s current state is not something Alba is used to. 

“Then we will go to mama’s and the three of us will come here together tomorrow”

And that is what happens day in and day out. The Putellas women visit in the Morning, the doctor allows Alexia to stay throughout the day and then the team visits in the afternoon. 

4 days after the accident, the doctors are happy with your progress so they take the breathing tubes out. The hope that was slowly leaving Alexia get reinstilled. 

Everyday Alexia talks to you. She tell you stories about what has been happening in the world. She shares her favourites moments that the two of you have shared over the years. Mapi brings in her iPad and talks you through the tattoo designs she has come up with, even stating which ones you should get. 

When Christmas Eve comes the energy amongst the team is down. So when Jana and Bruna suggest decorating your room for when you wake up everyone agrees it’s a good idea. 

Alexia allows it but doesn’t join in. Every year the two of you decorate your house and doing it without you feels wrong. 

“Mija, why aren’t you helping?” Eli asks as she sees her daughter sitting outside your room instead of with you. 

“I can’t do it anymore” she runs her fingers through her hair in frustration “I have tried to be positive but what if she never wakes up or worse what is she—“ 

“Ale you can’t think like that. Y/N is strong. From what you and the doctor have told me her injuries are bad which is why it is taking so long for her to heal” 

“I really love her and I don’t think I can do this without her” Alexia collapses in her mum’s arms as once again her emotions overwhelm her. 

“I know you do and I know she loves you. Your story isn’t over, this is just a story you will tell your children” Eli says. 

“I will not tell my children how their mother almost died protecting me” Alexia is quick to respond. 

She hopes to never talk about this every again. Once you wake up this can be put in the past. 

“I spoke to the doctors. They said I can stay here tonight with it being Christmas Day tomorrow. Will you and Alba come visit us?” Alexia asks her mum. 

“Of course. Who needs Australia when we can come to the best hospital in Barcelona?“ 

Her mothers joke causes Alexia to laugh maybe more so than necessary. She couldn’t believe how much had changed in just under ten days. You are suppose to be in Australia right now and instead you are fighting for your life. 

When the next morning arrives Alexia feels hopeful for the first time since the crash. It wasn’t just ‘you will be ok’ hope, it’s something different, something more powerful. 

“Merry Christmas Y/N” Alexia kisses your temple. 

“I don’t know what you have got me this year or if you even had the chance to get anything but I want you to know that the only thing I want is for you to wake up. These past ten days have been the worst in my life”.

She wipes her tears for the umpteenth time. 

“I need to see your beautiful eyes, hear your infectious laugh, I need you Y/N” 

Alexia goes to her bag to get your present. The small black velvet box which she had bought almost a year prior is held firmly in her hands. 

“I had plans Y/N” Alexia opens the box to reveal the silver band with a small diamond in the centre. 

“Alba helped me pick it out so I know you’ll like it. She misses you by the way, mum too and Nala, Ay Dios Mío she has no idea what is going on” 

“I love you with all my heart and I planned to go into 2023 with you as my fiancée” Alexia pulls the ring out of the box as she plays with the diamond. 

She then places it on your ring finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it fits perfectly. 

“You suppose to ask me first” your voice is hoarse. 

You slowly open your eyes, squinting slightly due to the brightness of the lights. It takes a few seconds to realise where you are and how you got there but then you remember. 

“The crash. Alexia, are you ok?” You reach for her face. 

“I’m ok, thanks to you. You saved me Y/N” 

You see Alexia start to get emotional. A sight that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times you see it. 

“Come here mi amor” you use all of your strength to move yourself across the bed so she can fit. 

Alexia wants to argue. She wants to tell you to be careful but she is craving your touch. So she buries herself into your side. 

“Careful. That hurts” you tell her and her hand reaches to where the wound on your side is. 

“There was so much blood. I thought I was going to lose you” Alexia has told many people this but it is much harder saying it to you. 

“Hey. We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s talk about this” you hold your hand up for the two of you to look at. 

The ring was beautiful. 

“I bought it last year when we were in Dubai. I was waiting for the right time to ask you” 

“And you thought that now, in a hospital, was the right time” you tease her. 

“I never actually asked you” Alexia rises to the teasing. 

You raise your eyebrow in response. A smirk pulls at your lips as you wait. 

“I love you Y/N. I had so much I wanted to say but I don’t want to waste anymore time. If I have learnt anything in the last few days it’s like life is short and I don’t want to spent another day without you as my fiancée. Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?”

“I will” it was the easiest answer you have ever given. 

When Alexia shifts her weight you know what is coming. The kiss is likr something you have never experience before. The passion in it makes you emotional and when you feel Alexia’s tears on your cheek you know she must be feeling the same thing. 

“I wished for a miracle and here you are” Alexia pulls away. She lets you hugs her, hold her in your arms whilst reassuring her than you are ok. 

[coneyislandbabey]

my back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: profanities, sexual tension lol

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. word count: 2,120

NOTES: this is part 2/8 of the beast of burden series. Part one can be found here!

Pittsburgh, 1969

“What do you think of her?” Warren asked. You, him, and Eddie were standing in a row against the bar of the nightclub you’d be playing a couple hours later. He was staring in the direction of the stage, where Billy stood messing around with the microphone, his new girlfriend, Camila, standing on the floor in front of him, angling her camera up to capture him in photos. 

“I like her,” you responded. She’d only been hanging around a week or two at that point, but she was kind even while being a little bossy. She had the kind of attitude a girl needed to have any kind of equal partnership with a guy like Billy Dunne, surely. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’ll last long,” Eddie said from your other side. That was a fair assessment. Billy had gone through quite the impressive string of girlfriends, just in the two years you’d been with the band. They stuck around for a few weeks, a month or two tops, and then they were gone, and Billy would start bringing around a new one.

“I don’t know,” you hum. “Seems like maybe it’s different this time.” You hoped it would be, at least. You really liked Camila, she got involved and tried to get to know the rest of you guys a lot more than any of the other girls Billy had brought around. She didn’t know much about the technical side of the music, but she made up for that in enthusiasm. Plus, it would be nice to have another girl around, in a more permanent sense. You’d known that rock music, and The Dunne Brothers band itself, were a real boys’ club, but man did it really fucking feel extra like a boys’ club sometimes. 

“I hope she stays. She got us that spot in the paper last week,” Warren said. That was true, too. Camila would come along to every gig and take photos the whole time, and then submit them to the local papers to try to get the band a little spot in the ink. It didn’t work, usually, but you all got lucky with the last one. It was more than surreal to see the shot of the five of you up on stage, rendered in newsprint black and white. 

Things were picking up, in a subtle way, sure, but a way none of you could ignore. You were booking more gigs, more people in the area were recognizing you. Hell, you were getting out of Pittsburgh fairly often, booking in Ocean City and Philly and Wilmington and a half dozen other places. It felt good. Really fucking good. It felt like you were proving your talent, your worth in this band, with every crowded and well-received show you performed. 

“Alright, sound check!” Billy called from the stage, gathering your attention. “We’re just gonna do one song and make sure everything is good.” 

You pushed off the bar and made your way to the stage, slinging your bass over your torso as you went. 

“Let’s do When the Sun Shines on You, yeah?” Billy asked, stepping up to the mic. You all started in on the song, and you immediately lost yourself in playing your bass. As usual, as the song progressed, you and Eddie seemed to drift nearer and nearer to each other on the stage. Your parts, musically, already played off of each other so often, so it only made sense to you that it was reflected physically. It was as if you and Eddie were playing to each other, or at each other, a frenetic conversation. During the more intense songs, you would drift so close that your hands almost bumped each other whilst playing, before you’d sweep around and head back to your side of the stage.

When the song was done and the sound was thoroughly checked, you sat your bass down and stretched your arms over your head. The guys vacated the stage quickly, but you came to sit on the edge, swinging your legs and looking out at the venue, where the employees were readying the space to open soon. Shortly after you sat down, Camila ambled over to you, her camera dangling from a strap around her neck and a sly smile on her face. 

“Hey, Camila,” you smiled, nodding at her. 

“Hey,” she said brightly. “So.” 

The way she drew out ‘so’ into three syllables was incredibly suggestive, and you only raised your eyebrow at her in question. She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if she was about to impart a secret. “What’s the deal with you and Eddie?”

For a moment, all you could do was blink at her. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “I think every stranger in this building could tell there’s something there. So, what is it? Are you guys a thing?”

You burst out into bright, sharp laughter, shaking your head. “God, no, Cami, it’s not like that at all. There’s nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

Camila weathered you with a stare, both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Right. Sure. I have never seen two people behave the way you do when there's ‘nothing going on’.”

You laughed again, deftly changing the subject to talk about her and Billy, hoping to god that your cheeks weren’t dark with blush. Were you that obvious with your crush on him? The thought was so mortifying that it made you want to die. For a while, you had managed to convince yourself that it was a minute, meaningless thing, your crush. That it had only come to be because he’d helped you learn those songs back in ‘67, helped you earn your spot in the band. You had assumed it would go away after a while, but it didn’t. All it did was grow into something more pathetic and embarrassing every time you saw him, because there was no way he was experiencing the same turmoil over your relationship, and more importantly, there was no way you could act on your feelings even if he was. 

Later, the whole group of you were hanging out in your garage, getting drunk off the cases of beers Warren bought immediately after you left the gig. You were curled up on the middle cushion of your ratty leather couch, feet tucked up underneath you and a beer nestled in your lap. Graham was on one side of you, fast asleep on the arm of the couch, his own empty beer bottle having fallen from his prone hand and rolled away. Eddie sat on the other side of you, one arm stretched on the back of the couch behind you, his thigh touching yours. Billy was drunkenly playing some old nursery song on Graham’s guitar, and Warren was loudly (and also drunkenly) cheering along with it. 

Camila, who was sitting on the rug next to Billy, caught your eye from across the room. She looked pointedly from you to Eddie and back to you, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question. You narrowed your eyes at her in return, imperceptibly shaking your head. She shot you a disbelieving look, but dropped it for the moment. 

“I’m starving,” Warren said suddenly, hand to his stomach. 

“Of course you’re starving, man, you’ve got the munchies,” Eddie laughed. 

“My stomach is eating itself,” he responded pitifully. 

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “Alright, I hear you. I’ll go get you a snack.”

“I love you more than anyone else here,” Warren said emphatically as you stood, and you just laughed at him, ruffling his hair as you passed him. 

“I’ll help you carry stuff out,” Eddie announced, getting up to follow you across the yard and to the house. 

You walked up the back steps, before stopping abruptly at the door and peering inside to see if any lights were on. Not expecting your sudden stop, Eddie walked directly into you. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, but you couldn’t help but acutely notice how close to you he stayed. 

“Okay, my whole family is asleep in there,” you said, turning around to face him. You were standing so close that your face almost met his chest before you looked up. “That means we have to be absolutely silent on this mission.”

“Mission?” he asked, amused. 

“Yes. The very important mission of providing famine relief to the dying Warren Rojas,” you nodded solemnly. 

“If you want me to be quiet, you have to stop being funny.”

“I can’t help my charisma, you’ll just have to be strong, Eddie boy,” you responded, and he nodded seriously, doing his best to keep a straight face. In your drunken state, you fumbled with the knob of the door trying to get in, and cursed yourself for the noise. Your parents knew about the band by now, obviously, and being as you were an adult at this point, it was not like they could stop you from being in the band even if they wanted to. However, you weren’t exactly of age quite yet, and if they found you standing in the kitchen, drunk and with a boy they weren’t fond of at that, you’d have hell to pay.  

Finally, you managed the knob and swung the door open slowly. You turned to Eddie and pointed to the pantry, mouthing the word ‘chips’ to him. He nodded, tip-toeing his way over in exaggerated movements that made you want to fall to the floor with laughter. Instead, you turned your back to him and headed toward the fridge, intent on grabbing some of the water bottles that your parents kept on top of it. You were able to reach one, but the rest had been pushed further back by someone, and your fingertips could only brush the plastic, not grasp them. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, and you turned to see Eddie watching you struggle. 

“Let me help,” he whispered, stepping forward and reaching above your head. His free hand went to your waist to balance himself as the other grabbed enough bottles for the group, passing them down to you one by one. You did your best to ignore his hand, to ignore the way it set every single nerve ending of yours on fire. When he was done grabbing water bottles, you turned around to go, but Eddie didn’t move. Moments passed, and the two of you stood there facing each other in the dark of the kitchen. Dimly, you were aware that Eddie’s hand was still on your waist. It would be so easy, you thought, to cross the mere inches between you and just kiss him the way you’d imagined doing dozens of times before. It would be so easy to just drop all of the water bottles on the floor and grasp his face instead, so easy to– 

But no. The only thing that could come out of you making a move on Eddie or him making a move on you would be teasing from the rest of the band, probably even them suspecting that the only reason Eddie suggested you for bassist way back when was because he had a thing for you, not because you were talented. But you were talented. That was why you got the spot in the band. It didn’t matter how true that was, though; the minute you became anything other than one of the guys here, your very integrity would be questioned. 

You stepped backward until your back was against the fridge, putting some space between the two of you. Eddie cleared his throat, the sound impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and stepped back as well. This had been your dance for the last two years; get close, closer than close, tip-toe right up to the edge until all there was to do was take the leap or fall backwards. Every time, for one fleeting moment, you thought you’d finally decide to take the leap, but you never did. And neither did he. So, the dance continued. 

“Let’s get out of here before my parents wake up,” you said, and Eddie nodded, turning around to lead you back to the kitchen door. When you got back to the garage, the two of you distributed chips and water, before sitting back down on the couch. Eddie’s arm stretched back out along the back of the couch, your thighs touching. Just like you had been before. Just like nothing at all had changed. Because nothing had, had it? Nothing ever did. You couldn’t decide if that thought was a relief, or a thorn digging ever deeper under your skin.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm

[waywardstation]

Bad Habits

[SEQUEL TO LEARNED BEHAVIOR] Akari thinks it’s funny that she’s essentially trained Lady Sneasler’s kits to tickle Ingo for food. It starts to lose its humor when it progresses to less playful methods, though.

It's been a while since I got a fic out, hasn't it? Long Covid's taken it's toll on my ability to focus and organize, and sadly write, but I still enjoy doing it just as much as before!! It just takes a little longer to pull things together for now ^^; I wrote this after my friends speculated on a possible sequel to the previous minutes fic I wrote.

OR read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

————

“Ah-hAh! Powder!”

Ingo jumped up from the dojo’s bench with an uncharacteristically-high shout, jerking as if he had been tasered in the back; Powder inadvertently came tumbling out of his coat with the movement, and sprawled onto the ground. The runt seemed unbothered by the jostling; she leapt up and scrambled under her favorite hiding place, the battlefield’s wooden platform, with a plump bean pod between her teeth. 

“Good job, Powder!” A fit of giggling from the bench behind him gave away who had orchestrated this, having once again slipped a bean pod into his coat. But this incident had repeated itself enough times by now that Ingo didn’t even need the hint anymore - how did she keep managing to sneak them in?

“I am… aware you find these situations humorous, Miss Akari,” Ingo fixed his crooked cap and smoothed his coat back down, his face flushing somewhat - he was not fond of such an embarrassing weakness of his constantly being exploited. And Akari’s constant incitement encouraged them to start tickling with intent now, rather than doing so incidentally while searching for food. “But I am afraid I must repeat myself; I really must implore you to stop going down these tracks. Do not positively reinforce this, please.”

“Oh come on Ingo, it’s funny!”  Akari popped open a pod and munched on one of the beans, brushing it off. His tone sounded a little annoyed or exasperated if she was being honest, but he always got a little defensive after a surprise tickle attack. “They’re just playing with you a little! I mean, it’s not like they’re hurting you or anything, right?”

Ingo remained stern, his expression not one of amusement; it appeared as if he viewed tickling to be just as unpleasant as getting hurt. 

“While that is technically true at the moment, I must remind you that they are steadily growing bigger.” He glanced over at Powder momentarily. “This continued behavior is unacceptable, not only because it is inapplicable for wilderness foraging and survival, but because it can also become dangerous for myself, and possibly even other people, as their venomous claws develop.”

The last point especially seemed to put a stop to Akari’s antics; with a look of contemplation, she seemed to consider his words. She was well aware the kits were growing - she got to witness the process almost every day - but she simply had not considered the long-term consequences.

The teen glanced over at Powder beneath the platform, still tearing at her prize with her claws. She knew it would eventually happen, but it was still hard to imagine they wouldn’t always be that size, and of their more subdued temperament.

Ingo’s stern reaction made more sense now.

“I didn’t really think about that.”  Akari turned the empty pod around in her fingers. “Yeah, I guess I should stop then. Sorry.”

But by then the damage had already been done, even if Akari herself did stop slipping beans and berries into his coat; the next time Ingo found himself under attack by the kits about a week later, it was entirely unprompted by the teen.

“We’re back!” Akari announced as she entered the training grounds, a basket held securely in her grip, and Zisu and Rei following behind her. Ingo looked over, away from all the sneasel kits he had been entertaining for most of the afternoon - the group had asked him to bring all the sneaslets to work today, so they could see how much they’d grown. The answer was… noticeably.

At the trio’s arrival, all nine kits scrambled towards them in a hurry to greet them, yowling as if they had been separated for thirty years, not thirty minutes. Rei and Zisu happily knelt down to pet them all, but Akari stepped around the tiny sneasels to approach Ingo.

“I take it you all had a pleasant lunch?” The warden questioned, seeming relieved to get a short break from the kits as he watched them swarm his companions. Though, Akari caught the quick glance he threw at the basket in her hands. 

“Yeah, it would have been nicer if you had joined us though.”

“I would have if I could.” Ingo’s frown pulled at the mere thought of attempting to bring nine sneasels along, or leaving them unattended at the training grounds to join her, Zisu, and Rei at The Wallflower.

Another glance at the basket. Akari mistook his trepidation for interest.

“I know, I know,” she brushed it off, before holding up the basket. “That’s why we brought you something back!”

Ingo’s expression immediately gave way to worry; it was exactly what he dreaded. “Miss Akari, you really didn’t need to-”

“-No, Zisu insisted!” The teen had expected him to resist. “We know you said you’d be fine, but you’ve been here all day. So we went to Floaro’s, which is why it took so long-”

Akari opened the basket and rooted around inside. She pulled out a Jubilife Muffin, and held it out to him. “-But we got one of these for you!”

Akari made the mistake of presenting it for all of the sneasel kits to see as well. Behind her, Ingo could see a few kits turn their heads towards her, forgetting all about Rei and Zisu in a second. His gratitude was pushed down deeper under another layer of alarm.

“Miss Akari, I appreciate the gesture, but I really couldn’t,” An attempt to prevent the inevitable.

“Really? He added oran berries to these ones, and it’s really good!” She tried to hold the muffin out, in hopes he’d take it.

Ingo barely processed her sentence. His gaze was locked past Akari’s shoulder. Four kits’ eyes were now focused intently on her back, along with Rei and Zisu’s own curious looks going between her and said kits.

“Perhaps later, I will try it,” The warden held his hands up, clearly not accepting the muffin. He wanted her to just put it back in the basket.

Another glance over her shoulder. Akari now had the attention of all nine sneasles. They stalked, approaching her carefully with a few more calculated steps. 

“Fine, but it’s not as good when it’s cold,” Akari shrugged, seeming to finally accept his rejection. But by then, it was too late - all nine kits finally took off, racing towards her. 

They were actually going to attack Akari.

Her hand still holding the muffin out, Ingo grabbed it and held it for the sneasels to see their original target no longer had what they desired. The horde immediately diverted from their route. They rushed around a surprised Akari, pouncing to instead latch onto Ingo’s pantlegs.

“Mochi, Duchess! Nettle! No-!” Ingo attempted to correct all the eager kits before they could climb any further up his legs. But his stern voice did nothing to stop the sneasels as they continued to knock into him and pile up.

Together, the tiny sneaslets felled their caretaker. With combined tugging on the pant legs and the collective weight of nine sneasels putting him off balance, Ingo was pulled backwards onto the ground. The moment of vulnerability cost him; the sneasel pile swarmed on top of him in seconds, like a flock of hungry staraptor on a single unfortunate cherubi. 

The kits got to work immediately; it only took seconds for Ingo’s demands to crumble into hysterics. 

“Hey, hEy-! Gh- nOho!” Ingo’s awkwardly-stifled bouts of laughter overtook any attempt to put authority in his voice as the group of sneaslets ganged up on him, pestering his most ticklish spots in hopes that he’d let go of his food. Nudging muzzles, nibbling teeth, and scritching claws - by this point, the kits had learned quite well how to quickly wear Ingo down. It took considerable effort for him not to roll over defensively, his fear of crushing them barely overpowering his desperate reflexes to protect himself. “Please! C-ceASe-! Before one of you- gaH!”

Before anyone could even move to help him, Ingo cut himself off with a sudden exclamation that sounded genuinely surprised, and not in a good way. The horde of sneasels abandoned him as quickly as they had pounced on him, leaving him behind to lie on the ground in front of a stunned Akari.

It only took a moment to become apparent why; their efforts had quickly been rewarded. Balm had managed to pry the muffin from Ingo’s weakened grip and had whipped around to bolt off with his prize as fast as he could, greedy as ever. The siblings’ cooperation instantly dissolved, and the rest of them raced after him in an attempt to steal the prize away, yowling excitedly.

Ingo quickly sat up to defend himself in case another attack would be imminent. But when it was clear the sneasels were too focused on chasing each other, he let out a sigh of relief and reached over to situate his hat back on his head; it had been knocked off in the squabble.

Akari stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Any amusement she normally would have felt gave way to confusion from being caught off guard, then slight concern as she realized Ingo was focused on his hand that previously held the muffin. “…Are you ok?”

“I am alright, but Balm appears to have bitten me… quite hard.” Genuine surprise in his voice overtaking any irritation Akari was expecting, Ingo inspected the soft part of his palm, now peppered with tiny red tooth marks. A few clearly had broken the skin, where new droplets of red began to spring up across his red-smeared palm.

“Here, here,” Akari hastily reached into her satchel for a few scraps of bandaging, handing it to him. The sight of Ingo’s blood dripping down his hand sent a sudden pang of guilt through her. And then that sent another pang when she realized it took Ingo getting hurt to feel this bad about it. “They’ve bitten you before?” 

“Yes. However, they have never drawn blood like this.” Ingo wrapped his hand securely, making sure the bandages covered every puncture.

Akari didn't know what to say to that. She glanced back over at the sneasel kits, now roughhousing over mere crumbs by the training ground’s fence, as Zisu helped Ingo back to his feet.

If the kits had ever used their teeth, they always nibbled on him gently enough to just tickle him. They never bit him hard enough to draw blood. And if any kit was going to bite that hard, Akari had expected it to be excitable Chomp, not mild-mannered Balm.

This wasn’t as playful as it used to be. 

Ingo’s warning of the kits’ development and all the problems that would come with it popped up into her mind again. Was this happening every time he had any kind of food out around them anymore? Ingo hadn’t wanted to accept the muffin from her at first; was it because he knew this would happen? She had stopped slipping food into Ingo’s coat to encourage them, but had she done it to the point of teaching them to do it independently?

…Perhaps, Akari realized, Ingo’s reason for skipping lunch today had extended further than simply wanting to babysit the kits attentively.

————

Ingo was not at the training grounds. He had been expected there early that morning, but he never showed up.

Akari only waited a total of fifteen minutes before telling Zisu she’d make sure he was ok, and had set out to go look for him. He had promised her an early-morning battle the day before, and he always made a point to follow through with his promises. If he didn’t show up, that meant he either came down with a debilitating illness overnight, he had gotten seriously injured on the way to Jubilife, or the Miss Fortune Sisters had decided to try and roadside rob him… again.

All three were situations he’d need help with though if he still was yet to show up, so Akari had set out immediately, backtracking on his usual route to Jubilife from the highlands. 

It had both relieved and worried her that she had made it all the way to the base of Mount Coronet without finding a trace of him. Where was he?

Surely he wasn’t still in Lady Sneasler’s den; it was almost noon by now. But, she had to be thorough. So Akari trekked up the mountainside, taking care to make sure no predatory pokemon were watching her as she deviated from the worn trails, and climbed up the cliffside to the entrance of Lady Sneasler’s den.

“Ingo?” She called out tentatively into the cavern. “Are you in here?”

There was no response.

But… she heard something quiet inside.

Were those the kits she heard? Akari shuffled a bit further in.

Squinting hard as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, Akari bore witness to a massacre.

Nesting material was sifted about in uneven heaps, as if there had been a struggle. A multitude of shining eyes stared wide in the darkness, catching the dull light from outside as several faces kept focus on her. A motionless foot could barely be made out in the dimness underneath them, sticking out of a mass of indistinguishable, furry forms. The familiar black shoe that was expected to cover it was nowhere to be found amongst the site, most likely lost in the nesting layers.

Something had certainly happened here.

“Ingo?” Akari repeated with both a bit more alarm and certainty this time. The small forms with bright eyes collectively went stiff in the darkness, and a muffled groan sluggishly responded. The form beneath the kits moved ever so slightly.

“…Mmmiss Akari..?” The familiar voice slurred, as if half awake from a fever-induced sleep.

A short yet incredibly heavy stretch of silence, as Akari’s mind stalled on what to do. 

Was he hurt? How bad was it? Why wasn’t Lady Sneasler here? Did a wild Pokémon try to get into the den, and did it maul Ingo in his efforts to protect the kits? She still couldn’t see all that well, what if he was bleeding out, or-?

One of the many pairs of bright eyes flickered out of view as one of the indiscernible kits lost interest in Akari and lowered their head, presumably back towards Ingo. A second later, a subdued jolt of almost-laughter was heard, and the foot sticking out of the sneasel pile jerked suddenly.

“Taro, no-”

…Oh. 

Akari knew what had happened now. She let out a sigh of relief as Ingo continued to chuckle listlessly into the nesting material.

“…S-some assistance, please-“ 

————

Ingo bit into the pecha berry, wiping away the juice with the back of his hand (which still felt quite sluggish and heavy) as he chewed thoroughly. 

At least he could somewhat feel it on his tongue now, and his fingers were beginning to tingle. That was a good thing; it meant the berry was finally starting to lessen the venom’s numbing effects.

Ingo sighed through his nose as he chewed, and rested his head back against the cavern wall; with stiff nerves and muscles, it still took a lot of effort to hold his head up at this point. 

He remained there like that for a few moments, until he became aware something had entered the den. A lethargic glance over, and he met eyes with Akari as she approached to sit down next to him. 

She had returned from taking all of the kits outside the den, both to wait with them for their mother to return and hear what had happened, and to give Ingo some time to eat his pecha berries in peace, without fear of them attacking him for it.

“Um, Lady Sneasler just got back.” She reported after a moment of silence. “I told her what happened. She’s scolding all the kits right now.”

Ingo could hear her yowling from outside, muffled by the cavern walls. The tone was very upset, even more so than he had expected, if he was honest.

“So they just… attacked you while she was out hunting?” The teen’s eyes flitted away from the cavern entrance back to Ingo, who’s own eyes were still closed. With his gaze off of her, she freely observed the tiny scratches peppered around his skin. They were tinged purple around the edges, faded compared to earlier but still noticeable. 

“You’re on the right track.” Ingo paused eating to respond. “I believe they had simply become impatient for Lady Sneasler to return with breakfast, and thought they could instead awaken and pester food out of me as they always do, despite carrying none myself. Yet when I unsurprisingly relented nothing, they grew more aggressive with their efforts, until, well…”

Ingo trailed off. He didn’t have to say anything else, Akari knew the rest of it. He bit back into his berry, static still on his tongue.

“Ugh,” the teen leaned forward, hugging her knees. “Look Ingo, I feel really bad about all this. Like, really, really bad. I’m sorry, they wouldn’t be doing this to you if I hadn’t kept encouraging it.” 

Ingo didn’t exactly jump at the chance to defend her as he chewed on his pecha; while he usually took care not to speak with his mouth full, she had a feeling he was more so agreeing with her, but saving face by not voicing it.

And she couldn’t blame him, he had told her to stop more than once. 

“…I believe things simply derailed slightly more than you intended.” He summed up instead.

She would accept that. “Yeah, they did.”

Ingo swallowed down the last of his pecha berry and relaxed into the nesting materials, now just waiting for the pecha to continue doing its job. “But, this cannot continue; I must set them back on the right track. As Lady Sneasler’s caretaker, I am also responsible for the development of her young, and their success will reflect my abilities as a warden. They cannot sustain themselves on this method in the wilderness. And if anyone is harmed by this behavior, I will be at fault.”

Akari did not really know what to say to that. “So, um, do you know how to get them to stop doing this?”

It felt incredibly awkward - if not humbling - asking if he knew how to essentially clean up her mess.

Ingo simply shook his head. “I will be honest; a problem has developed that I am unsure how to surpass. This is Lady Sneasler’s first litter that she’s had under my care, and I admit that raising Pokémon entirely from adolescence is a different track from battling alongside them, the latter of which I can only faintly recall explicit experiences with. And they ignore any of my attempts to dissuade them. I am… not entirely sure how to conduct corrections to this specific behavior.”

Akari didn’t quite know either. It had progressed past the point of controlled incidents where it would only happen when she initiated it with a well-placed berry or bean pod, and developed into relentless attacks when food wasn’t even present, but simply desired.

She had no idea how to properly correct something as specific as this. But she felt obligated to at least try and figure it out. She put Ingo in this position, and felt he was being incredibly forgiving by not berating her for doing such a thing in the first place.

Though maybe, he suspected she was already doing that to herself enough. 

“Well, look. I kind of did this to you. I’m the one that taught them it was ok to attack people for food.” Akari fiddled with the end of her scarf. “So it’d only be right for me to help, uh, un-teach them. I know Irida’s coming next week to check on them all, and I don’t want to hear you got in trouble because they all attacked her or something.”

The mental image of that disaster seemed to make Ingo chuckle a little bit. She knew he was still under the effects of the poison then, because normally he wouldn’t have considered something like that humorous enough to laugh at.

“The tracks to their desired destination may be long, but help may shorten it. Your assistance in their correctional training would be greatly appreciated,” He finally responded to her offer. His general acceptance eased her guilt somewhat.

“Great. Tomorrow then, we start?” Today would be better, but she didn’t think Ingo would be in any state to start that today.

“Tomorrow fits my schedule just fine.”

[aparticularbandit]

Westview Holidays

Summary: Wanda and Agatha exert a great deal of magic for a Westview celebration, and Wanda has an idea on how to cool down afterwards.

Part of The Thrall of Decades collection.

Rating: T.

AO3

“You’re such a baby.”

“Excuse you, hon, I lived through events you can’t even imagine—”

“—and you’re still a baby.”  Wanda looks over just long enough to catch Agatha’s expression – a moment of feigned hurt that pulls at her heart (unfortunately) before Agatha sticks her tongue out at her.

That was what she waiting for.

With a swipe of one hand, Wanda crafts a small metal pole out of thin air just where Agatha’s tongue ends.  Agatha tries to pull her tongue back in, but now, in the cold air, the pole sticks to her tongue and thwacks hard against her lips.

It’s a small thing – conjuring a metal pole – but it’s more complicated to craft it within the scope of their present world, to have it at the right properties related to the cold air around them to get it stuck to Agatha’s tongue in the first place instead of it being created in a more neutral state of being.  It’s tricky to do what Wanda’s just done, and Agatha’s eyes light with approval.  She clicks her tongue, making a sound much more like the snapping of her fingertips, and the pole vanishes.  “Good girl,” she purrs.

Wanda preens, smug.

“You can flirt when you’re done with the decorations,” Sarah calls from her perch near the front of the crowd, hands cupped around her mouth.  Her husband nudges her with one elbow, and she continues.  “No one wants to see that!”  When Agatha shoots her a look, Sarah gives her a lopsided grin.

It’s more progress than Wanda thought was possible when she chose to stay in Westview, not that she’d been quite thinking about that when she decided to stay, and it’s more care than she’d thought anyone who’d undergone her unintentional abuse of the little town might ever even consider giving her, let alone actually give.  To be forgiven and seen—

It’s a small miracle.

Agatha would call it magic.

~

Nearly a year has passed since Wanda returned to Westview for Agatha, since Agatha tested her little witch until she was convinced she was safe, since magic revealed to her the threads it used in tying them both together, threads Wanda hadn’t noticed (or, if she did, didn’t acknowledge) and Agatha hadn’t so much as attempted to untangle.  Lover of magic she may be and still is, but even she can’t undo what magic wants, when it’s adamant about it.  (It isn’t subtle, remember, and it is far more powerful than either witch alone, than even their powers combined, because all of that rests on the gift of magic in the first place.  It would laugh.)

In that year, Wanda allowed Agatha to put constraints on her powers – constraints she could, of course, easily undo without even the wave of her hand.  But Agatha said they were necessary.  Then, when Wanda raised an eyebrow at her words, admitted that, strictly speaking, they weren’t technically necessary but elaborated that the constraint on her power would force her to learn true witchcraft, just as other witches throughout the centuries had.  And while Wanda certainly didn’t need runes or incantations or anything as trivial as that, understanding the theory behind everything, the way magic felt within the hands of even the smallest user, would make her own, much more unwieldy crafting that much stronger.

And, more than strength, it would make it reliable.

Give her greater control.

For a witch who had struggled to understand and control her magic since she’d first gained it, even before she’d known it was magic in the truest sense of the word, Wanda yearned for that sense of control.  So she agreed to the constraints, trusting Agatha in a way she would never have trusted her before.

(Not never would have trusted anyone because she would have trusted Vision, if she truly believed he knew what he was doing.  Would have trusted her brother, if he’d thought she was more of a danger than she was a help.  Had trusted Vision, for a while, when he’d kept her in the complex, away from everything and everyone else.  But his form of constraint hadn’t taught her anything, had been purely reactive.

Agatha’s constraints were there to teach.)

For the past year, Agatha trained Wanda, teaching her the theory of magic, the subtle ways magic liked better than her blatant dinosaur clomping around, how to best protect herself when casting so that magic doesn’t become a drain on her, so that she ties it into something else as a source.  And as Wanda grew, Agatha modified the restraints, shifting them so that Wanda could expand, stretch her wings—

Not fly.  Not yet.  But maybe something close to it.

~

Of course, this wasn’t the only thing that happened in the past year.

Agatha took Wanda out.  In part to show the town that she wasn’t as dangerous as she once was and in part because she wanted to take her out.  For dates, for movies (which they only paid attention to half of the time), for walks around the town for her their mental health.  It was gentle.  Soft.  Nice.

They’d spent time with the new citizens who’d moved into Westview when those who wanted nothing to do with the city where they were so traumatized left, and while some of them were apprehensive of Wanda, most were pleased to meet a former Avenger.  (Former because Wanda refused to use the term; former because while her magic was restrained, she didn’t feel comfortable trying to take on more powerful foes.  Fortunately for them, no one came to call.  Not in that year.)  A few of the townspeople who’d originally decided to stay left once they realized Wanda, too, was staying; not all of them, which led to some dirty looks in the marketplace, even now, even a year out, but they know who they are, they know to stay away.

And, of course, they’d spent time with the handful who knew, who lived through it all, and who still cared about Wanda.  Eventually, even Sarah’s daughter, Emily, met Wanda.  They were friends now, or at least as close as they could be, considering.

Wanda hadn’t picked up a job, since she’d been focused entirely on her own studies, but Agatha continued to teach her kids and, on occasion, brought Wanda in to tell them stories.  At first, she’d been apprehensive and quiet and uneasy.  The first day she’d come in, all she did was sit and listen, and she’d been set to do so the second day, until one of the kids came up and asked for her help.  It’d taken the kids warming up to her to get her to talk at all.

That was the thing people found they loved about the witches most: not their power, but their stories.

Stories made them human, made others human: Agatha’s of the ancient past and people to whom history gave only a sanitized view and Wanda’s of the recent past and people to whom media gave only a superheroic view.  They took people down from their pedestal and made them real.

Westview thrived on that.

~

Now, though, today, with Wanda’s restraints half gone, the two witches are putting on a sort of public display for the whole town to enjoy.  Even though a select few of the townspeople groaned about it, and even though an even more select few refused to attend outright simply due to Wanda’s involvement, most of them are there, front and center, as the two craft holiday decorations.

They started with the tree – Wanda breaking apart the ground in the center of town so that Agatha could cause a tree to sprout from soil beneath.  (Symbolism.  They practiced this.)  Then Agatha covered the tree with small candles ignited with smaller, flickering flames, leaving them for a few moments before Wanda captured the flames in little glass bulbs and left them strung around the tree as its new lights.  As soon as she finishes, the streetlamps around the town flash and flicker before changing into the same fire encased in clear bulbs as the tinier lights on the tree, each with a bright ribbon tying itself out of the air in different colors – red, green, blue, white, yellow – one after another, spreading out from the town center where they wait.

It’s at this point that Wanda sticks Agatha with the metal pole, when Sarah shouts out at both of them, when Wanda glances down and sees Emily standing next to her, eyes lit with wonder.

And hears Agatha’s voice gentle in her mind, This is why we do this.  She lets that rest for a few moments before continuing with the barest hint of spite, But if you pull that shit again, hon, I will end this thing so fast—

Wanda ignores her.  More to the point, Wanda does not believe her because Agatha loves the children around them just as much as Wanda does.  Wanda would never take this from them, and so she knows that Agatha never would either.

It helps that she can already feel the strain.  She has to focus.  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.

Don’t focus on how the cold has turned Agatha’s nose an adorable red.  Don’t focus on how the slight breeze pushes her curly, frizzy hair out behind her and exposes her very kissable neck.  Don’t focus on the soft purple glow magic cradles her in, or the way it lights up her eyes just as surely as Wanda’s own must be lighting with scarlet, or the purple covering the tips of her fingers turning the same red as her nose from the cold.

Don’t focus on all of these things and call her a baby again because she’s her baby.

Save that for later.

Later.

Wanda tears her eyes away from Agatha, licks her lips, tugs the bottom one between her teeth, and pretends that she doesn’t feel Agatha’s control of magic tangling with her own or the threads of magic her fingers are dipped into rippling against those Agatha’s are or the briefest of moments when their fingers brush against each other as they manipulate the same thread.  It’s an entirely different feel in magical space instead of in physical, and the thrill of it that shoots through her is different and indescribable and it is absolutely unfair how Agatha doesn’t react to it at all.

Stop. Looking. At. Agatha.

At least Sarah isn’t yelling about what she doesn’t notice.

Wanda takes a deep breath in.  She focuses.  Sets her menorah where she wants it, where it can – and will – be seen.  Smiles when she hears one of the children in the crowd gasp and comment and turns just enough to see them pointing at it with excitement.  Reaches out to entangle her mind with Agatha’s again, murmurs, This is why we do this, and lets her smug joy mix with Agatha’s.

Notes the bright and thriving neon blue coloring everything in Agatha’s mind and chuckles.

~

They don’t need to make any excuse to leave after their holiday extravaganza; Wanda is completely honest when she says that she is exhausted, although Agatha is less than honest when she says she needs to take care of her student.  Sarah shoots them a look for that, one brow raising, but Agatha just meets her gaze and raises both brows twice with a snide smirk lifting one corner of her lips.  Wanda pretends to ignore all of this, but she sees it.  Holds it with the smallest of warmths in the center of her chest.  And expects Agatha to wait only just long enough for Wanda to close the door before—

Well.

Wanda decides to take things into her own hands.  She pretends that her exhaustion is significantly more than it is, so that Agatha opens the door with the smallest of magic and shuts it with the same, only for Wanda to press her against the door and smother her with a kiss.  She feels Agatha sigh against her and takes that as encouragement to rest her hands on Agatha’s hips, on the small curves of her waist, and to pull her tighter to her.  It’s when she moves her lips and begins to kiss along Agatha’s jaw that she hears it—

Not a sigh of approval or requited longing, but of frustration and gentle disapproval.

Wanda ignores this and keeps kissing her anyway, brushing her nose against that sensitive spot on the curve of Agatha’s chin.  “Is something wrong?”

“Hon,” Agatha says with a third, more annoyed sigh, “you know I love when you do this, but—”  She cuts off with a sharp gasp as Wanda bites, hard, on that sensitive spot.  “Dear,” she lets out in a breathy hum, “you aren’t listening.”

“Mmm…no,” Wanda agrees and disagrees.  “You’re talking too much.”  She resumes her nibbling along Agatha’s neck.

Agatha snakes a hand through Wanda’s hair, wraps her fingers through far too many locks, and then grips tightly before tugging Wanda’s head up with a sharp shock of pain.  “We’ve talked about this, love.  Using so much magic all at once can give you a high, especially in tandem with a partner, especially with someone that you already—”

“Too much talking.”  Wanda presses her lips to Agatha’s again, takes her lower lip between her teeth and tugs in the way that she knows Agatha likes.

Wanda.  Agatha’s voice thrums loud in her mind in the same instant that she lets out an audible groan of pleasure.  You’re still not—

If you really wanted me to stop, you’d tell me to stop.  Wanda presses her against the door again, causing Agatha’s shirt to lift just enough for her to brush her fingers against her skin.  She rubs her thumbs in circles just above Agatha’s hip bones, lets the tip of her right thumbnail just sink into Agatha’s skin, grins at another audible groan as it releases into her mouth.  Clearly, you don’t want that.

It takes a moment for Agatha to get herself together enough to respond, and in that moment, she turns the tide, places her hand on Wanda’s throat, and pushes her back until she bumps against the nearest wall.  Wanda wants to melt into her, and half does.  But now Agatha has enough of an upper hand to pull her lips from Wanda’s and meet her eyes with a firm stare, broken only slightly in efficiency due to how wide her pupils have grown.  “I’m suffering from the same after-effects you are, hon,” she says, breath ragged between words.  “I—”  She cuts herself off, eyes falling to Wanda’s lips, and then forces herself to take a deep breath, drawing her eyes back up to meet Wanda’s instead of letting them fall farther.  “We need to rest before—”

“This is rest—”

“No, it’s physical exertion that leaves you even more exhausted than you already are.”  Agatha’s gaze drops again, lower, and traces its way up Wanda’s body in a way that makes Wanda shiver, especially when Agatha tugs her own swollen, split lower lip between her teeth.  Then she lets out another sigh.  “It’s a nice form of exhaustion, sure, love, but.”  She cups Wanda’s face and brushes her thumb along her cheek.  “We’re already exhausted.  You’re already exhausted.  And magic will take advantage of that.”  She leans across and gives Wanda a chaste kiss.  “Not right now.”

Wanda pouts.  “You’re just too old for this shit.”

Agatha chuckles.  “You want to learn from your mistakes, that’s all well and good, but don’t drag me down with you, hon.”  She wraps a lock of Wanda’s hair around her finger.  “Been there, done that.”

“So what,” Wanda says, pouting, “would you have me do instead?”

“I believe, in the business you want, it would be called aftercare.”

~

Which is how, not fifteen minutes later, the two witches end up in bed together, draped in their matching wicked witch oversized shirts, with a television turned on right across from them.  Wanda rests her head on Agatha’s shoulder, close enough to brush her nose against her partner’s neck.  “I get to pick the show,” she murmurs.  “If I don’t pick the show, I might—”

Agatha flattens Wanda’s hand where it has already started to move up her thigh.  “Whatever show you want, super star.”  She flicks through channels until Wanda places her other hand on hers.  Her brows raise.  “This one?”

“Mmmm.”  Wanda nuzzles against her neck, curls closer, and rests her head on Agatha’s chest.  “This one’s good.”  She settles against her partner with a hum of contentment.  It’s an episode she’s seen a million and one times before, which means technically she doesn’t have to pay any attention at all, if she doesn’t want that.  She leans up and kisses Agatha’s jaw.

“Be good, hon.”  Agatha strokes one finger along Wanda’s spine.  Up and down, up and down, like a spell she casts solely to soothe.

“I’m being good.”

“Of course, you are.”

Wanda leans up and meets Agatha’s eyes.  “I’m always being good.”

Agatha raises an eyebrow again.  “Is that so?”  She leans forward as though to give Wanda a kiss but instead reaches up and presses that kiss to her forehead instead.  “Maybe,” she whispers, running a finger along Wanda’s jaw, “if you are good enough, I’ll see fit to give you a reward.”

“A reward?” Wanda echoes, her eyes lighting up.  Her lips spread in a smug grin.  “What kind of reward?”

Agatha’s gaze flits away.  “Maybe tomorrow, if you aren’t too tired, we can play with magical after-effects.”  She meets Wanda’s eyes again.  “Nothing as strong as today, but enough testing that—”

“—that next time, I get what I want,” Wanda completes for her.

“What we both want,” Agatha corrects.  She runs her finger gently along Wanda’s jaw again and lets out another sigh – this one the sigh of yearning that Wanda most associates with her.  “It will be exhausting, hon.  But I’m sure you’ll be up for the challenge.”

Wanda leans forward, brushing her nose against Agatha’s.  “I’m sure I will.”

When Agatha kisses her this time, there’s just enough fire to it that Wanda thinks maybe – maybe – she’ll give in.  But then Agatha settles back against her pillow, turned to the television, and runs her fingers along Wanda’s back again.

Tomorrow, Wanda hears, clear, in her mind.  Tomorrow.

Even as that electric blue throbs all around them.

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: before mob money mob problems. PARTIES: @stainedglasstruth & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: emilio needs some help researching a few things for a case. unluckily for arden, he knows where she lives. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

There were always some aspects of detective work that Emilio just couldn’t get right. He was great at the basics, good at the old fashioned style… but the world wasn’t exactly old fashioned anymore. And for all the things his mother had taught him, modern technology certainly hadn’t made the list.

So, when a case required a little bit of technical know-how, there were times where Emilio just… faltered, a bit. He wasn’t sure how to continue, wasn’t sure what to do. Most of the time, he’d just stubbornly find another way. It’d take longer, make the case not quite worth the money he was being paid for it, but it was better than admitting he couldn’t do something. He was tempted to do that now, too, until he remembered he’d made a deal. 

Arden said she’d help him out if he helped her out. And he was helping her out. So it wasn’t like he was asking for charity, right? He might as well cash in on his side of things. He didn’t even have to go particularly far for it. He slipped out of his apartment, shutting Perro inside to keep the dog from trotting along behind him and making his way down the hall, rapping his knuckles against the door. When it opened, he offered her a nod. “I, uh… I think I could use a hand with something.”

–

Arden was still getting used to her new living arrangements. She supposed she had been spoiled previously, having been able to afford living on her own. Her new roommates– or “wormmates” as their group chat had been dubbed– were nice, at least. The apartment was big, too, bigger than she’d imagined, especially after finding out she would be living in the same building as Axis Investigations and one Emilio Cortez.

It was a lot, though, being around others in her free time, having to be “on” even more frequently. It made her that much more grateful for days like these where she found herself truly alone in the apartment. She was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, sitting in a manner that screamed ‘this person is queer.’ Her laptop was set on the table in front of her, music drifting through the speakers as she typed away into a text document. Her notebook was right next to it, sat on top of a book she’d borrowed from Leah, and open to a poem she had messily scribbled down in the middle of the night. She had coffee, Hobbes was sprawled across the chair next to her, and she was feeling pretty good.

So, Arden was a little startled when she heard a knock at the door. “One sec!” she called, making sure to save her progress before making her way over. Had someone ordered something? Or maybe one of the worms had forgotten their keys? Looking through the peephole, she was incredibly surprised to see it was Emilio at her door. She opened it, and, yup, that was him alright. “Hi?” she greeted, confusion evident. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, but, despite the fact that they were neighbors, Emilio was one of the last people she would’ve expected to pay her a visit. She wondered if she should be concerned. 

At least he seemed to feel as awkward as she did. “Oh, sure.” She opened the door, inviting him inside. “Uhh, would you like some coffee?” 

She closed the door behind him, frowning down at herself as she took notice of what she was wearing. Had she been known she would be having company, she definitely would’ve changed out of the baggy sweater and leggings she was currently wearing. She quickly pulled her hair down and back into a slightly neater ponytail. God, she hated being caught off guard. 

–

Emilio shuffled into the apartment, tilting his head just a little to listen as he entered. There were no sounds inside to indicate that anyone else was home and he felt a small sense of relief at that. He liked Arden’s roommates — the ones he’d met, at least — but asking for help already felt shameful enough as it was. He didn’t need more people to be aware of his inability to handle something so simple on his own. 

He glanced around the room, taking stock instinctively. No weaponry lying out, though he hadn’t suspected there would be. Nothing that looked dangerous. Nothing that didn’t seem to belong. Something bumped against his leg, and his eyes darted down to see a cat staring up at him. Absently, he leaned down, ignoring the pain the motion caused his bad leg, and scratched the cat behind the ear.

“Coffee would be good,” he nodded, straightening back up and turning back to Arden. “Black’s fine. The hotter the better, though.” Caffeine would help kick him into gear, he figured. Not one to beat around the bush, he inclined his head towards the laptop open on the table. “You know about computers, right?”

—

Arden made her way back over to her laptop, quickly pausing her playlist and closing out the document. Grabbing her mug, she leaned back against the counter, eyes trained on the man as he surveyed the apartment. That familiar anxious energy was starting to course through her. It was the kind that stuck with her– only running or sleeping seemed to help rid her of that buzz. Maybe she should cut back on the coffee…

She took a sip, though, to hide her smile as Emilio knelt down to pet her cat. “Careful,” she smirked, “Hobbes is an attention whore. He will harrass you for pets, and then probably bite you when you least expect it.” 

Arden nodded, not exactly surprised to hear he took his coffee black. “Feel free to take a seat, by the way,” she threw over her shoulder because that was a thing people said to visitors, right? Having people over at her place really wasn’t a common occurrence for her, even before she started living in a shared space. 

She was grateful to have something to do with her hands, at least. She went about filling the machine with water and grinds, only pausing to look at him when he spoke again. “Yeah?” She replied, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “I mean, I couldn’t write up some code and make you a website or something, but I use it for work and research and whatnot.”

–

“Ah, he can bite me if he wants to,” Emilio replied dismissively, offering the cat a faint smile. The cat certainly wouldn’t be the last thing to ever bite him… or the worst. The stitches Teddy had put into his arm to stop the qutrub bite from bleeding out had long since been removed by Emilio’s impatient frustration, but the scar would serve as one hell of a reminder to the events. 

He nodded as Arden told him to take a seat, settling into one of the chairs at the table. It was a little uncomfortable, but he figured he was in no place to complain. Arden was just about the only person who hadn’t commented on the furniture in his office upon first entry, so he probably owed her a little for that. 

Watching as she prepared the coffee, he tapped his fingers against the table absently. He’d never been particularly good at this. At any of this. Sitting still while someone else worked, asking for help, existing in a space where existence was all that was expected of him. He was never quite sure how to hold himself.

It was a relief when she began speaking again, allowing him to focus on the task at hand instead of the chair beneath him or the table in front of him. “I don’t need a website. It’s for a case. I, um… I’m having trouble getting what I need from my usual sources, and I could use some help. With the computer research. I don’t really… use them. A lot.”

—

He can bite me if he wants to. Arden restrained herself from blurting the out of pocket joke that her brain immediately jumped to, rolling her eyes at herself. 

It made her smile, though, witnessing the gruff man being so gentle with Hobbes. She vaguely recalled seeing some posts about him having a dog, too. Someone who treated animals with kindness had to have a good heart, right? It was winning him some points in her book. 

She pulled another mug out of one of the cupboards before settling back into her seat, leaving the coffee maker to do its thing. She picked up her notebook and the book, intending on moving it to the side, but she paused for a moment as she realized, yup, that was a tome on the supernatural just under her notebook, lying out in the open for him to see. While it might not be odd for someone in Wicked’s Rest to be reading about such topics, even if they didn’t know, she didn’t want to push her luck. She couldn’t tell how much he knew about what was really going on in town.

As inconspicuously as possible, Arden moved the book aside, making sure the spine was facing away from the man. For good measure, she opened her notebook before placing it back on top, trying to cover it as much as possible. If that meant the man saw her terrible poetry, she supposed she could live with never being able to look him in the eye again. Better that than a repeat of what happened with Jo. One page was covered in half-asleep scribbles, anyway, so he’d have to decipher that first, and good luck. 

Glancing at Emilio, he looked a little out of his element just sitting there in her kitchen. She offered him what she hoped was a comforting and entirely casual smile, listening as he began to speak. 

“Oh,” she nodded, “I can definitely help with that, or show you if you’d like?” Shifting into a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged on the chair, she pushed up her sleeves and pulled her laptop a little closer. “What do you need to look into?”

–

There was no turning off the paranoid thought process that haunted his mind. As much as he’d like to say it was a newer addition, brought on with the massacre that left him more alone than anyone ever ought to be, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. His family’s deaths might have made it worse, but Emilio had always been a little paranoid. He’d always had a voice in his head that whispered warnings that made little sense.

It was whispering even now, as Arden shifted things on her desk around in a way that was subtle but undeniable. She was trying to make sure he didn’t see certain things, and while there were plenty of innocent reasons as to why that might be, Emilio’s mind went to less explainable things without his permission.

Biting his tongue, he shook the thoughts from his head. He wasn’t sure he trusted Arden just yet, but they had a deal and he did trust that she’d honor that. He scratched her back, she’d scratch his. They didn’t have to be entirely open with one another for that to work. It wasn’t as if Emilio was entirely honest with her, either. (It wasn’t as if Emilio was entirely honest with anyone, these days.)

Forcing his eyes away from the things she’d moved and back up to her face, he nodded. “Showing me would be great.” Just because they were helping each other out didn’t mean he wanted to have to come down here every time he needed to google something. Especially not if he didn’t trust her entirely.

“Looking into a guy. He’s got a bank account under another name, and my buddy was able to get me a list of charges he makes to it. Same charge every month, same amount, but the business name it’s made out to isn’t one I can find anywhere. Some kind of shorthand, maybe. Think you can help me figure out what it is?”

–

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Arden’s stomach churned, worried he’d caught sight of the title. So when he just asked her to show him, even though she suspected trying to teach Emilio might be a pain in the ass, she nodded, relieved. She had offered to show him, she had just said it without thinking it through. 

Between his own admission and the fact that he'd even come to ask her for help in the first place, she had a feeling he was kind of clueless when it came to technology. From everything she knew about him, she suspected he wouldn’t have asked unless he had exhausted every other option on his own. And, she’d also seen him refer to an app as an 'apt' online the other day.

She was kind of impressed, though. He was an asshole who was bad with people, but he did get the job done. And he did it all the old-fashioned way. It undoubtedly made his work more difficult than it needed to be, but it was still impressive. 

"Probably," she shrugged, not wanting to make any promises she wouldn't be able to keep. It sounded shady– secret bank account and maybe some kind of shell corporation– so if they were really covering their tracks well, Arden might not be able to help him much. Maybe she could help point him in the right direction at least? "What's the name of the business?" 

–

Emilio had never been a particularly quick learner. It was something his mother had berated him about constantly, always complaining when he took longer than she thought he ought to to pick up whatever new skill she was teaching. Back then, it had led Emilio to have more extensive training lessons more often than his siblings. His mother had quickly learned that he was far better at physical things than mental, that his inability to sit still might make research more difficult but came in handy in a fight. And she’d used that. Emilio was never the one to be given the less physically taxing jobs; he was the one locked in rooms with hungry vampires to put his restlessness to use. 

Of course, things were different now. While his brother had been a great help in Mexico when it came to matters of research, Edgar was no longer alive to call upon now. Emilio was on his own here, and there continued to be some problems that couldn’t be solved with a knife or a swift kick. If he wanted to continue his business and be successful in his quest for vengeance, he was going to need to learn how to be a little bit better at finding information through the internet instead of through his more old-fashioned, hands-on methods.

Luckily, Arden was willing to teach him. He wasn’t sure who else he could have gone to. It felt wrong to go to a kid for help, and he was sure most of them would probably make fun of him for his lack of knowledge, anyway. He didn’t think Arden would. Not when she wanted his help, too. Leverage was a decent thing to have, in situations like this one.

“I can work with probably,” he decided with a nod. If nothing else, she could help with this case. If he needed more instruction before he could do it on his own, that was fine, too. “All that shows up on the bank records are the initials. WRSF. Guessing the WR is for Wicked’s Rest, but I don’t know about the rest. And my English is bad, sometimes. Makes it harder to make guesses.” 

–

“WRSF,” Arden echoed, brows furrowing. The letters faintly rang a bell, but the thought danced just out of reach. Absentmindedly, she reached up, fingers tangling around the golden chain around her neck as she thought. After a moment, she frowned. It wasn’t coming to her, and trying to force it wouldn’t work. 

“Okay.” Start small. She pulled up two tabs: one the town site, and the other, Google. Then, laptop in hands, she stood, putting the laptop in front of Emilio and moving her seat closer to his. They would likely both hate it, but, hey, he wanted to learn. “Let’s give it a cursory Google. It’s frankly upsetting how much you can find with just that if you know how to look for it.” She tried to give him a quick run down on how to search for specific terms and on a specific website.

She was slightly interrupted when she heard a thump from behind her and swirled around to see Hobbes inching toward the mugs on the counter. “Hey,” she shot out of her seat, “don’t even think about it, you bastard.” Scooping the cat up in her arms, she quickly dropped him back down onto the floor. He gave her an innocent look before creeping over to bother their guest. “Fucker,” she muttered. 

She took a peek to make sure the man wasn’t looking through her shit or majorly fucking up somehow, then turned her focus back to the coffee maker to see how that was coming along. Eh, it was good enough. 

Grabbing the pitcher, Arden shoved her mug in its place to catch the last of it while she poured a cup for Emilio. She set the mug down next to him before refilling her own. WRSF… “State forest?” Maybe, but that wasn’t what she had been looking for. She mulled it over as she added a bit of sugar to her drink and took a sip. 

Then it hit her. “Oh!” Duh. They were literally in the neighborhood. “Do you think it might have to do with Serpent’s Flat?”

–

The computer was set in front of him, and Emilio squinted at the webpage dubiously. It felt strange, the amount of information you could gather online now. Wrong, almost. It left a strange sort of taste in his mouth, though not something he knew how to put words to. Part of him was tempted, just a little, to search for something else. Something utterly unrelated to the case they were working. If he typed out San Agustín Etla, Mexico, what would he find? What story had someone invented to explain the massacre that happened there? How close was it to the truth, what names were listed among the dead?

Something bumped against his leg, pulling him from his trance and drawing his attention down to the floor. Arden’s cat was rubbing against him, looking up expectantly. Right. She’d warned him that the cat was likely to harass him for attention if he gave it the time of day. Absently, he bent down to scratch its ears, glancing over to see what Arden was doing.

Right. The coffee. He took the mug she set beside him with a grateful nod, taking a sip of the too-hot liquid and letting the effects of the caffeine wash over him as he stared at the screen. There were plenty of things the letters might mean; it was hard to narrow it down.

When Arden mentioned Serpent’s Flat, Emilio grunted thoughtfully. “Could be,” he replied, nodding his head. “But what are the charges for? The viewing stations?” Did they take credit cards? Or maybe a gift shop. But why the secrecy? There must have been something odd behind it, if it had anything to do with Serpent’s Flat at all. 

—

After years of raiding the Scribes archive and looking into the supernatural– especially WIcked’s Rest particular brand of supernatural– of course that’s where Arden’s brain went. He was right, though, what would the charges be for? There were merch stands, but that didn’t seem to fit the situation. Unless, maybe, it was going toward researching the Flat?

She voiced the thought, but shrugged. “It’s just an idea. That or ‘state forest’ are all that I can think of that SF could stand for. Though, I guess that might be a little too straightforward if this person’s trying to cover their tracks.” Brow raised, she looked over at Emilio. “Is there anything else that might help narrow things down a little? Like, what’s your take on the situation? Is this guy paying someone off or something?”

Armed with more coffee, Arden tried her best to walk the man through her research process– first, some useless Google searches, then, switching over to the town website and looking through the Chamber of Commerce business directory. It was a slow process that, at times, made her rethink this entire partnership thing they had going. 

It also made her kinda want to strangle the stupid, handsome PI, but there was no way in hell she would win that fight. And, even if she did somehow manage, she would be stuck with a dead body, and she wasn’t close enough to the wormmates yet that they would help her deal with it. Okay, who was she kidding, Sully and Wynne were way too good for that, she couldn’t in good conscience even ask them. Zack, though…

Arden was startled out of her idiotic musings when Hobbes jumped into her lap, curling up and, trapping her in her seat. She looked down at the cat, an exasperated yet fond expression on her face. “Yeah, okay. Hi, bud,” she smiled, giving him scritches. 

–

Sometimes, in this line of work, it was good to have someone to bounce ideas off of. If Emilio were a little less terrible with people, he might have looked for a partner for his business ventures, but he had a hard time imagining himself letting someone else into his home now. Perro was a decent enough listener, but he didn’t exactly offer ideas of his own or ask questions to drive the conversation. Arden, though… She was good to have around.

“Honestly? Hard to say. When I took on the case, he seemed a little boring. It was a surprise to find the bank account.” He’d figured this job would be an easy one; get dirt on Tobias Greene, deliver it to Alan for whatever blackmail scheme he had in mind, and get paid a little extra for his trouble. If he’d known it would evolve into something this complicated, he would have complained a little more at the initial meeting. 

Still would have taken the case, though. He couldn’t really afford to turn anyone away.

He settled next to Arden, watching intently as she searched. The sites she clicked, the ones she avoided, the one she turned to when the search engine seemed to have exhausted all its useful options. It was all good information to know, all something to learn. Next time, he might be able to do this without barging into someone else’s apartment and suffering the wrath of their playful cat. Old dogs could learn new tricks with the right kind of motivation driving them.

His gaze was perhaps a little too intense as she scrolled through businesses on the website, eyes sharp as he looked for anything that might be useful. When he saw it, he reached out, pointing to the screen. “There,” he said, tapping the monitor. “Wicked’s Rest Storage Facility. Seems like a good bet, no? If he’s storing something he doesn’t want anyone else knowing about…” 

—

Alright, so there wouldn’t be anything that could help narrow things down more. She hadn’t been banking on it, but she had hoped there might be a small detail that he either hadn’t thought to or wanted to share with her. It was fine, they had enough to at least give her an idea of where to look. 

Okay, maybe she had overexaggerated a little with the murder fantasies. Emilio certainly wasn’t the worst person she’d had to try to teach. That title went to Susan from Biddeford who had seen young intern Arden and decided that she would be her personal IT guide. 

It had been slow, but Emilio did genuinely seem to want to learn. He paid attention and even asked some questions, but best of all, he kept quiet for the most part, and they sat in what wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, but close. That was infinitely more than she could say about Susan. 

After scrolling through most of the businesses beginning with the letter S, Emilio pointed to the screen just as she had caught sight of it. “It would certainly fit, what with the monthly payments.” 

It could just be storage, but if someone had paid the PI to look into the guy it was likely because they thought he was doing something shady. Also, it was Wicked’s Rest they were talking about, the one place that the Occam’s Razor principle was rarely applicable and could even be deadly. Preparing for the worst was helpful in this town. 

Arden clicked on it the name– not a very original owner, she assumed– bringing up the address and phone number along with an embedded map. “And it’s right here in Worm’s Row. Convenient.” She turned to look at Emilio, a small smile on her face. “Well, that wasn’t too bad. Though finding the right storage unit might be a pain in the ass… I’m not sure I can help you with that one.” 

She wondered if she could give the place a call to find out somehow, though, she wasn’t sure what lie she would need to tell to gain that information. It also seemed like a conversation that would work better in-person. Then again, if the man was going to break into the storage unit, someone asking questions about that exact one beforehand would be suspicious as fuck. 

–

The storage facility seemed like a good fit. Arden was right — monthly payments of the same amount seemed to suggest something like this, and having a second bank account for it seemed to lend some weight to the idea that it might be something worth knowing about. Maybe not what Alan had expected when he’d walked through Axis’s door, but hopefully something he could still use. Emilio was kind of banking on the realtor’s promise to pay him a bonus if he was successful with this job.

“Worm’s Row,” he repeated, raising a brow. “Kind of makes it feel sketchier.” Big words, coming from a man who also ran a business out of Worm’s Row, but true all the same. This was the part of town where people went when they didn’t want anyone to know what they were up to, after all.

Glancing to Arden, Emilio flashed her a grin. “That part, I’m good at.” He knew what Greene looked like well enough; he could stake out the storage facility and wait for him to show up, then trail him to his container and come back again later when he wasn’t there. He���d been to enough facilities like this one to know that the lock on the container would be an easy pick, so he shouldn’t need to deal with Greene at all. He’d go in, get some photos of whatever he was hiding in there, and get out. Simple stuff, really.

“Appreciate your help with this. I don’t think I could have figured this out on my own.” He could have followed Greene until he went to the facility, sure, but it would have been a lot more complicated, and harder to glean that that was where his mysterious monthly payments were going. This way, he had a starting point. It would definitely save him time, get him back to Alan with the information quickly. 

–

Kind of makes it feel sketchier, said the man living in and running a business out of Worm’s Row. While standing in her apartment in Worm’s Row. He wasn’t exactly wrong, though. 

Arden returned the smile, but had to wonder what Emilio’s plan was. Maybe, if this partnership continued, she could ask him to run her through his process. She wasn’t hopeless without the internet, she knew her way around a library or a hall of records, and her charm could get her pretty far, but she did rely on technology pretty heavily for this kind of thing. It was hard to imagine him trying to teach, though, and she’d probably annoy the fuck out of him with a million questions. 

She deposited Hobbes onto the floor, stretching as she stood. “Yeah, of course, I’m happy to help.” Researching was something she kind of enjoyed, though that felt way too dorky to admit. Plus, while it had somewhat tested her patience, his company hadn’t been unpleasant. Arden hadn’t really had house guests since leaving Wicked’s Rest. Hell, she barely had anyone over save for a fling and the massive failure that was her last relationship. “If it turns out to be a bust or if you need anything else, just let me know. You know where I live,” she smirked. 

–

Despite his initial apprehension regarding Arden’s proposal of a partnership between the two, Emilio couldn’t deny that this session had been helpful. He was good at what he did. Investigation carried enough of the same principles as hunting that it came fairly naturally to him, allowed him to use his childhood experiences to support himself now that he was alone. He knew he was a decent detective, even if he wasn’t good at much else. But there were still some things that alluded him, some things he hadn’t learned when his mother put a knife in his hand and never let him put it down to try holding something else instead. If Arden could help him fill those gaps, why shouldn’t he take her up on the offer to do so? And if he could help her with anything she might need assistance on in return, it was all the better. You didn’t have to bleed out at someone’s feet to help them out. Emilio was learning that.

Following her lead, Emilio got to his feet, wincing slightly as the weight went to his bad knee. It was lucky that Arden’s place was so close to his — walking was always a little harder after a long period of sitting down. “I’m sure I’ll take you up on that soon. And I’ll let you know how the case goes, you know, once it’s all over.” She was like him, he could tell — she’d want to know how it ended.

[lgcxwren]

DATED : sometime in early jan 2023 COUNT : 940 words

dance class was never her favorite class of the day. she enjoyed learning dances to her favorite kpop songs pre-training...but without the pressure of you have to be perfect or gtfo every single time she decided to learn something new. that pestering thought was something she had to get used after she started training and it hadn’t fully fit into her head yet. it was an uncomfortable sensation that still caught her off guard six months into training.

it was an evaluation day, the day wren began to dread. when coaches evaluated their progress on whatever they happened to be working on. she had tried to practice, really really tried. but her university’s newest term had started up and had been anything but forgiving, so she had been caught up finishing a project for her music theory class and had forgone some of her free practice time. but she thought she could do it! she worked hard during the required practice time, so when it was her turn (the last to go for that session) she stood up in the middle of the practice room, the dance coach’s eyes peered at her and she gulped as she got into the starting position for fabula’s how you like that.

then she was gone. she just...left. the music had started, she had forgotten every part of the choreography. all she could do was run out of the room, hands covering her face as she ran away.

“shit...shit, shit, shit.” she exclaimed in frustration, hitting herself until she whipped her face, turned on her heels, and ran back into the practice room. the coach looked at her with what she could only sense was disgust, the other trainees looked flabbergasted. she hadn’t been there long, but you didn’t just leave in the middle of practice. she knew it was disrespectful and unacceptable and could be the end of the career she had just begun. she should just try to catch the first flight home...but she had to try. even if she walked back in there and 

in tearful butchered korean, she muttered, “i-i’m sorry.” she was now standing in front of her whole class and her incredibly imposing instructor, so she straightened her back and whiped the tears from her eyes. she had to keep some level of dignity for herself. “i...forgot uh choreo. please let me try again. please.” she whipped her face of the remaining tears. the coach rolled his eyes, but allowed for wren to complete her assigned routine. and she did. terribly. she was fumbling and messy and barely on beat. someone that spent all of her day listening to and studying music should have more of an understanding of rhythm...and yet she looked like she had been in a coma for 15 years and then told to get up and dance. it didn’t help she was wiping away tears from her face as she tried to dance. 

half way into the song she was abruptly stopped by the coach, who stood up from his chair with his palm out, the universal sign for please stop this is awful. his face looked down as his feet tapped, the only noise that could be heard now that the music had been cut. 

“this is what you have to show? after six months, this is all you have? running out of the room and then giving possibly the worst performance that i’ve--that these halls have every seen?” the coach finally spoke, voice tearing into her every dream. he went on, into the more technical failings of her, but she barely understood his words. it was hard to focus on the third language korean was while all of her willpower was being used to stop herself from running back of the class and into the streets, to the nearest airport, and back home to failure. but she had used her get-of-jail-sprint for the day and she refused to go back to manhattan and hear it from her parents. so she stayed, took the onslaught and focused her head back into the room she stood in. “this is unacceptable, completely ridiculous, and i have half a mind to make sure you never enter a legacy practice room ever again.” running was sounding like a good option now. “unfortunately, i do not have that power, so, do better or stop wasting all of our time.”

wren let the flood gates out as soon as she stepped out of the practice room. this was the first time she had ever bad at something--or at least the first time someone had told her so to her face. usually, she was encouraged, praised, and corrected. not criticized and humiliated in front of her peers. did she deserve it? maybe...but god did it hurt.

it hurt worst because there was no one to cling to, no shoulder to cry all of her pain and insecurities into. her parents were never the most affectionate, or even all that close, to their daughter, but, god, did she want her freaking mommy to hug and tell her everything was going to be alright. 

there was no mommy now, though. just herself, a nasty mean man that she must destroy, and a practice room. she had to do it on her own now. this was her life, her career, and she was going to do it. it hadn’t even been a year and she was not going to let some self-righteous, pretentious, piece of--focus, she brought herself back down, into the practice room. there she stayed, all night, going over the same song until her bones ached. but she knew the song. 

[hungryistrying]

it takes you and me to make us

summary:

"This is kind of random,” at the sound of his voice, Jinx’s eyes flicker up at him, “but do you want kids?"

At his unexpected question, she abruptly sits up straight, looking at him in bewilderment while she can hear the Windows error sound play on repeat in her head as she tries to formulate a response. Ekko continues to play with her hair, patiently waiting for her answer.

"I have twenty-two cents on my bank account and a Dorito chip in my pocket," is what she ends up blurting, brain still empty

They've been together for a year now, which is the longest Jinx has ever been in a relationship. Still, she wasn't prepared for Ekko to start talking about their possible future.

rating: teen

word count: 2593

part one | crossposted to ao3

Jinx is convinced her brain is short-circuiting at this point. She’s been sitting at Ekko’s dining table, for what feels like a century now, working on her mechanical project and she’s losing her mind because it doesn’t make any sense. 

To make matters worse, the sun is beginning the set and the light is glaring into her eyes. She rests an elbow on the table and moves her hand to her forehead to avoid getting blinded. Could she simply move to the opposite side of the table? Well yes, but screw the sun. She was here first and she’s not about to move just for that fucker.

As she continues to sketch out her design, she bumps into another technical problem. Her brows furrow in confusion and she purses her lips in thought. This is making less sense than Jinx herself does after six shots of liquor.

She balances her pencil between her upper lip and nose, using her free hand to flip through her Engineering Mechanics book. Her eyes scroll over the page to try and make sense of this assignment, but at this point, her brain is so tired that all the words blur together.

She groans in frustration, allowing her pencil to fall from her lips along with her will to live. Okay, she’s being kind of dramatic but this project is due in three weeks and she can’t even get the prototype sketch down so she’s kind of fucked (and not in a fun way). 

Is this her own fault for putting it off for so long? Well yes, but she had to binge the last season of the latest telenovela she started watching. It was a necessity to figure out whether or not Alejandro would actually leave his wife for her evil twin sister or not. The ending was a total disappointment and she stayed up until 5 a.m. for no reason, but at least she had her answer (sort of, she still didn’t know Spanish).

Okay, screw this. She’s not even registering any words on the page and clearly isn’t making any progress on the stupid project either. She’s in her junior year and this should be a piece of cake, yet she’s fighting for her life out here.

“You alright?” At the sound of his voice, her eyes flicker up to Ekko, who looks at her from across the table with a mixture of concern and amusement.

She’s currently studying in Ekko’s apartment, which isn’t an unusual arrangement for them. Today she’s even blessed by the fact that his obnoxious roommate Scar isn’t here – who she just barely tolerates because he’s Ekko’s closest friend. Otherwise, she would consider risking life in prison by hitting him with Vi’s car. At the very least, he isn’t here today to give her an additional headache, because this project alone is exhausting enough.

With a defeated sigh, she slumps down over the table like some sad, deflated balloon before responding, “Would you still love me if I told you I hate engineering now?”

He gives her a sincere smile and rests his hand on her own, giving it one comforting pat before he replies, “Hell no.”

She pulls her hand back and sits upright again with an aggravated roll of her eyes, while Ekko just laughs at her. “That’s it, I’m dumping you.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” His tone and expression are equally flat as he says it.

To be fair, she threatens him with this every other week, so it’s no surprise he won’t take her seriously but it still pisses her off. So she grabs one of her crumpled designs off the table and tosses it at him.

He gives her an unimpressed look but still allows her to chuck it at his head. Placated, she starts, “Anyway, how’s job hunting going?”

At her inquiry, it’s his turn to groan. His head falls back in frustration as he answers, “Would be going a lot easier if Professor Heimerdinger would give me that damn letter of recommendation already.”

Jinx scoffs, having never been fond of that old professor. He’s just really annoying with all his nonsense about “an inventor’s responsibility to society” and “treating change cautiously” or whatever he even talked about. 

“He still hasn’t? Didn’t he say he would like a month ago? Damn old coot.”

Ekko laughs at that, lowering his head to properly look at her again. “Old coot or not, it’d make my life a lot easier. All these jobs have impossible requirements. Like how’s a guy supposed to build six years of experience if no one will hire him in the first place?”

She gives him an encouraging grin. “They’ll want to, trust me. Experience or not, you’re a genius and any company should be grateful you even want to work for them.”

His expression softens into a warm smile and Jinx can feel her heart do that stupid little thing that tends to happen when he looks at her like that. She thought maybe she’d get used to it or that the feeling would wear off over time. But at this point, she’s afraid that him looking at her like that will always be her undoing.

“Thanks, maybe I just need a break.” He shuts his laptop and pushes his seat back to stand up. “We’ve been sitting here for two hours now and I think my head’s about to explode if I have to write one more motivation letter.” 

He pulls his arms over his head and groans at the satisfying stretch. The movement causes his shirt to rise, revealing a peek of his stomach. Jinx’s eyes are laser-focused on the sliver of skin until he clicks his tongue and says, “Stop objectifying me.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “How’s it objectifying if you’re my boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” he corrects. “You just dumped me, remember?”

“Oh, shut up.” She leans forward to smack his ass, making him squawk in indignation. 

“Wow, objectifying and sexually harassing me? It never ends with you.” How Ekko keeps a straight face as he says that is beyond Jinx, but she refuses to be outdone by him.

“It’s not harassment if you like it,” she says matter-of-factly, which really is a terrible thing to say in any other context, but Ekko’s being a little shit and two can play that game.

He shakes his head in disapproval, but she can see the corners of his mouth begin to rise. “Whatever, I’m grabbing a drink.”

She cackles in triumph at his inability to think of a comeback while Ekko graciously ignores her and heads to the fridge. After opening it, he nods back in her direction. “You need anything?”

She hums in consideration. “You have Mountain Dew, by any chance?”

“I don’t buy disgusting drinks," he replies without missing a beat.

She gasps, mock-offended. “This is why we’re breaking up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anything else you want?” he laughs.

After thinking it over, she shrugs. “Whatever you’re having is fine, I guess.”

He returns with two bottles of iced tea. “Thanks." She reaches for one of the bottles, but Ekko pulls back his arms so she can’t grab it from her seat. “What?” she grumbles.

He gives her an expectant look. “You’re thanking your ex-boyfriend in his apartment when he brings you a drink?”

“Okay, sorry, we’re not breaking up. Now gimme,” she says in the most unapologetic tone possible while making grabbing motions at the drink.

He doesn’t look very impressed at her sorry excuse of an apology, but huffs an amused breath and hands her the drink anyway, taking a seat beside her. He squints when the sun hits his eyes and turns his head to face her. “Isn’t the sun getting in your face?”

“Fuck the sun, I was here first.” She furiously unscrews the bottle cap and takes a swig of her drink. It’s peach-flavored, not bad. Mountain Dew is still better but unfortunately, she just had to date a certified Mountain Dew hater.

He bursts into laughter at that, taking a sip from his own drink and adjusting his position on the bench, so the sun doesn’t shine directly in his eyes. “Alright then,” he slings an arm over her shoulder and nods at the mess of papers and books sprawled over his table, “you need any help with your project?”

She lets out a tired sigh, slumping down and resting her head on his shoulder. “Nah, I’ll figure it out. I think I just need a break too.”

He hums in agreement, his fingers wrapping around the end of her braid and playing with her hair. 

For a moment they stay just like that in comfortable silence. Jinx is content to keep it that way as her brain is way too full and tired to think of anything else to say at the moment. She feels her body relax against his. Her guard is completely down because Ekko just has that effect on her. He makes her feel calm and grounded when her mind is going a hundred miles per hour. 

They’ve been together for a little over a year now, which is a startlingly long time for her to be in a relationship. She’s never been with anyone for more than a couple of months tops, but somehow it’s so easy and comfortable with Ekko. He’s not just her boyfriend– he’s basically her best friend.

That’s not to say they never fight or get into stupid disagreements (once even going so far that Jinx was convinced their relationship was over), but Ekko is always so resolved to talk it out. Sometimes it infuriates her, but overall she’s just baffled that he still wants her when she knows she can drive him insane at times.

"This is kind of random,” at the sound of his voice, Jinx’s eyes flicker up at him, “ but do you want kids?"

At his unexpected question, she abruptly sits up straight, looking at him in bewilderment while she can hear the Windows error sound play on repeat in her head as she tries to formulate a response. Ekko continues to play with her hair, patiently waiting for her answer.

"I have twenty-two cents on my bank account and a Dorito chip in my pocket," is what she ends up blurting, brain still empty.

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her response. "Yeah, I didn't mean right now."

“Oh.” She can feel her body sag in relief. “Yeah. That makes sense. I was just…surprised.”

He laughs, “I got that impression.”

Her mind is whirling at his question. Kids? She’s not entirely sure if she’s fit to be a mother. It’s not as if she hates children or anything, she’s honestly just never thought that far ahead. She could barely keep a cactus alive, let alone a whole other person. At the moment it just sounded incredibly overwhelming.

“Jinx?” She snaps out of her thoughts, only now realizing she was frowning so hard her forehead has begun to hurt. Ekko looks at her concern. “Talk to me? We can drop the topic if you want.”

Truthfully, her first reflex is to joke that she is the child, so raising one is definitely out of the question. But Jinx knows Ekko. Knows and sees the way he tends to bounce his leg up and down when he’s nervous. And she knows that he’s trying to stay casual for her sake, but that this topic probably means more to him than he’d like to let on.

 She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder again, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. “Honestly, I have no clue. It’s just that…I’m a mess, you know?”

“I have noticed, but carry on.” She sends him a withering glare that just makes him snicker in response.

“I’m being serious here.” She shrugs. “You know how I am. Honestly, I already consider it a win if I make it past the week alive. I’ve never seriously sat down and thought about stuff like this.” Never even thought it was an option, she leaves out, but she has a feeling he catches onto it anyway if the meaningful smile he sends her way is anything to go off.

“That’s cool, there’s no rush. I was just wondering,” he assures.

She nods and asks, “What about you? Do you want kids?” He shrugs and fiddles with the cap of his bottle. She sits up straight and lays a hand on his leg to stop its bouncing, playfully glaring at him in hopes of calming down his nerves. “Hey, I was just being super honest and serious for you. It’s your turn now.”

A startled laugh escapes him and he shakes his head at her. “You’re unbelievable.” Despite his words, Jinx can see the tension leave his body. “I guess?” he starts, turning his head to properly look at her. “It just sounds…nice. Settling down one day with the person you love and starting a family together.”

Jinx feels like her heart is caught in her throat as she leans in closer, drawn into his personal space at his words. “And…” her voice is breathless as she asks it, “that person’s me?”

He raises his hand and caresses her cheek, she leans into the touch. “Yeah, I’d like it to be. Would you?”

She seriously thinks it over. Simply put, it still sounds like a lot. But the person asking her is Ekko. 

He’s the person who begrudgingly watches telenovelas with her even though he doesn’t get the appeal. He’s the person she goes to when she wants to bitch about how gross Vi and her now-fiancée are. He’s the one that puts her in her place when she’s being petty and encourages her when she needs it. He’s also the person who’s annoyingly smug when he beats her at Mario Kart. And he’s who she turns to when she doesn’t know what to do with herself anymore.

Jinx swallows down the lump in her throat before shooting him a tentative smile. “I guess it doesn’t sound so bad if it’s you.”

She closes the gap between them, pressing her mouth against his. She feels him smile against her lips as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Eventually, she breaks the kiss and climbs onto his lap, wrapping her hands around his neck and connecting their mouths again. She licks the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

Ekko wraps his hands around her waist and comfortably leans back against the bench while allowing Jinx to lead the kiss. She kisses him until they’re both breathless, before separating their mouths again. 

She presses her forehead against his and cheekily grins. “Since you want kids one day, how about we practice?”

He raises a questioning eyebrow at her. “Don’t you have an assignment to work on?” 

She leans forward until her body is flush against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “We’re taking a break anyway. Why? You don’t want to?”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, but his hands wander down to her thighs, firmly wrapping them around his waist before he stands up. Jinx squeals in surprise at the sudden movement, the pull of gravity momentarily throwing her off.  

She firmly wraps her limbs around his body so he doesn’t drop her. He lays sloppy kisses along her cheek as he carries her through the living room and into his bedroom while Jinx laughs the entire way there.

[jarofstyles]

"If you let me in, I’m ready to give you what I couldn’t before"

Oh some angst we are 👀👀

warning: implied cheating (in a sense?) angst angst angst

If you enjoy this, check out our Patreon!!

_____

“If y’let me in, I’m ready to give you what I couldn’t before.”

He wrung his hands as he stood in front of her door. His stomach a mess of anxiety, sweat on his brow, he had realized just how badly he fucked up when her face barely moved. Stoic. This wasn’t his Y/N.

It had started off as simply fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. And it progressed through the months. They did things that friends with benefits shouldn’t. Snuggles and kisses and sweet nothing. Picnics and movie dates and private fluff that really had her believing that they were more than just random fucks.

Harry had wanted to have his cake and eat it too. When Y/N had opened up his phone to some sexting going on back and forth between Harry and some sorority girl, she felt her heart shatter. Seeing him talk about it wanting to taste someone else and wanting to see how tight she was, making plans to see her the day Y/N was going out of town… it had utterly wrecked her.

When confronted, Harry panicked. They had never claimed exclusivity but everything had hinted at it. His idea was that when she was away, he could play a bit and come back to have the soft snuggles and hot sex with her. There was nothing wrong with tasting a few more things, right? I didn’t matter that his stomach didn’t felt right doing it.

His mates had been on his back about the fact he wasn’t dating her and also not taking advantage of being in college. They’d gotten to his head, and he was set up with Stacey and she was good looking, decent enough. She was willing and eager and They’d texted back and forth, Harry not thinking twice about leaving his phone in the bed with Y/N as he went to the bathroom.

When she opened his phone with the few dings it had, she felt like she could throw up.

S: I can’t wait until you come over. I haven’t been fucked in agesssss.

S: honestly? I’ve had my eye on you for a while.

S: I got a set I think you may like. You said you liked red, right? ;)

Attached was a photo of a toned body in a red lace outfit, nipples able to be seen and a bare bottom with a hand covering her cunt.

S: if you can find some time to come sooner… I’ll be waiting. Xxxx

Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. Hand shaking slightly as she stood up, grabbing her clothes and hastily putting them on. She was so fucking stupid. So dumb. Harry was like everyone else. And it was her fault for letting this go on as much as it did.

Harry’s brows furrowed as he walked out of the bathroom to see her hastily getting dressed, tears streaming down her face. His heart broke, hating seeing her any type of upset. It was instinct, rushing to grab her and pull her into his body.

“Baby… wha’s happened? What’s the mat-“ he was interrupted by a shove, loosing his balance and falling on to the bed.

“What’s the matter? I’m…. Please, don’t touch me.” She said quietly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shove you. But this… it isn’t going to work anymore Harry. I obviously was thinking it was more than this was, and that’s my fault. You stated your opinions and wants and I was fine with that at the time-“ her voice cracked, and Harry’s stomach dropped. What was she talking about? She couldn’t know….

“Your texts. You’ve got a lovely girl named Stacey who has a nice set for you to see when y’go over on the day I leave to go back home for a day.” The bitterness was tasted even on Harry’s tongue, his throat feeling thick as he stood up. She wasn’t supposed to see those.

Shit. Shit. Why did he feel like this, like he had cheated when they weren’t anything? Why did he feel like he wanted to get sick and cry?

“We-we arent exclusive! We aren’t and y’said that was fine, we arent.” He sputtered out, making it worse. Her face dropped and her eyes hit the ground, the silence broken by a sniffle.

“Yeah. We aren’t, I guess. I dunno… when it’s a few months in and you do all those… dates, and y’introduce me to your mum and sister And have me come out every night and call me your girl… it all seemed like more. Everyone keeps askin’ me how long we’ve been dating and I suppose I’m an idiot for saying a few months when…. I jumped the gun and believed that everything you said… that I’m the most beautiful girl and youre so lucky to have me, that I’m the best you’ve ever had…. It’s easy to believe it when you must have so much practice saying it.” She laughed bitterly, throwing her shoes on her feet, throwing Harry’s shirt off and pulling on her own.

It felt like he got punched in the stomach. Realizing how badly he had fucked up, bur his ego wasn’t allowing him to admit it. The technicalities saved him, Didnt they?

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He said though the tears burned behind his eyes. He refused to show how it was effecting him. Instead of being hit, shoved again, yelled at, she just nodded, shocking him.

“Yeah. I don’t know… I thought… was living in a fantasy land. You were giving me what I wanted but it’s obvious now that you were playing a game. You can’t actually give me what I want. I wanted to be with you.” She pushed the hair out of her face, Harry helplessly sitting on the bed as she gathered her things. The panic was setting in but he didn’t dare make a noise about how the makeup wipes being thrown into her bag tore him apart. She was leaving, leaving.

“We don’t have to- we don’t hav’ta stop, Y/N. Why?” He knew he sounded stupid when her head snapped to him, irritation covering her face.

“I know that my pussy is apparently too good and you continued this whole charade to keep it, but you can’t give me what I want. I want a boyfriend. I want someone to love me and give me those forehead kisses and say those beautiful things you said to me and mean them. You can’t give me that, can you?” The last piece of hope had shattered when he stayed silent, the silence staying around until she slammed the door shut and walked out of his life.

It hasn’t been too long since then, and he knew immediately that he was fucked up. His texts and called remained ignored and unopened. Her friends had told him to fuck off, and he understood. Mitch had smacked him upside the head and he couldn’t stomach the looks Sarah and Evie had given him when they’d found out why Y/N wasn’t tagging along anymore.

So that’s how he ended up outside her apartment door, knocking and speaking through the door. “Please. I’m a fucking idiot, Y/N … I’m an arrogant son of a bitch and I didn’t want to back down but please let me in. I meant ever bring I said to you before then. I haven’t fucked anyone else since you. Please let me in.” His voice broke, resting his head against the cool wood. “Let me give you what you want.”

His breathing caught as he heard the click of the lock.

[demonsandmischief]

Come Home To Me (Something Special Spin-Off)

Marvel - A Sam Wilson Imagine

Sam Wilson x Female Reader

1K Words

Here's Something Special (Bucky's Story). You might want to read it for this to make sense.

PLEASE NOTE: this does contain spoilers for TFATWS. This starts off at the party that's at the end of ep 6. Also you might need to read Bucky's Story for this AU to make sense (link above). Bucky's girl doesn't have a name since it's technically 'you' lol I hope it's not confusing. enjoy!!

The Beginning.

----

Sam Wilson watched Bucky and his girl sway contentedly to the music, the slightest bit of envy tugging at his chest.

It had been a good party, celebrating him taking up the mantle of Captain America, and he and Bucky seemed to have developed a new level of understanding for each other. There was no one more deserving of a soulmate then him.

"Sam, I don't see why you don't just try," Sarah, his sister, whispered. She was talking about the dreams, having caught on to the longing in his eyes.

"Don't you think I have? We've talked about this before, let's not talk about it right now."

Sarah sighed with a nod, "Alright then, do you want to dance? I know your mopey ass can't keep up with me."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, right."

They moved over towards Bucky who lifted his head with a soft smile.

"Hi guys," his girl also gave a gentle smile. "Do you want to dance, Sam?"

"Hey," Bucky frowned, looking down at her. "We were having a moment."

"I'd love to dance. It's a way better option than dancing with my sister. Move out of the way cyborg," Sam grinned.

Bucky huffed, but he couldn't be upset, not when he had a beautiful girl still looking at him like he held the world. And for her, he did.

"He loves you," Sam murmured, watching as her eyes followed Bucky as he laughed at something Sarah said.

Even in the low light he could see her blush, "You have someone special out there for you too, you know? Either way, you have me and Buck and Sarah, all of these wonderful people who love and support you."

It was quiet after that. Sam's head filling with daydreams, of hope and future.

"You want to piss him off?" Sam asked mischievously.

"I'm not sure," she giggled.

Sam took that as a yes, putting his hand on her waist and dipping her back. She laughed, grabbing his arms so she didn't fall.

"That's enough, Sam," Bucky growled, pulling her to his chest.

"I think he's got better moves than you," she teased.

----

After Sam helped clean up from the party, he returned home. The house was quiet. Sarah had returned earlier to put her boys to sleep, and he didn't even want to know what Bucky and his girl were up to.

His mind was running with what she had told him. He wasn't really alone, not at all. He had the best friends and family anybody could ask for. Plus, with being Captain America, he was going to be a busy man.

Yet, he couldn't bury the longing he felt. The pain of loneliness curling through his body like a snake. He wanted to share his life with somebody, have someone to come home to.

With his mind made up, he was going to try the dreams again. It had been a while since he last tried. Every time he did, no one ever showed up.

When he fell asleep, his dreams took him to the a room that he was too familiar with. It was pitch black, and the world shifted intensely under his feet. It was like he couldn't stand up straight.

"Hello?" he called.

The room was empty.

----

"You're too quiet. What's wrong?" Bucky asked, gathering plates for breakfast.

Sam hesitated, but he remembered when the man had confided in him. Maybe it would be okay to talk to someone.

"They never show up," he said, eyes concentrating on the pancakes he was flipping. "Every single night. There has to be something wrong with me."

Bucky moved closer. "You know how I felt about the whole thing. They could be scared. You should keep trying. Besides, being Captain America, giving up isn't an option." He patted his back, disappearing into the dining room.

Sam tried again that night.

"Hello?" he called.

"I'm sorry," a sweet voice called back. Sam's heart thudded viciously in his chest. It seemed to match the movement of the dark room, shrouding him in the intense sound.

"It's okay. Why can't I see you? Are you alright?" he managed to yell back.

"No. They're watching me. This is the only chance I had. I'm sorry."

Sam woke up in a cold sweat. You were supposed to forget your dreams, but there was no way he would ever forget that.

They're watching me. What the hell? Pure nightmare fuel.

"Could you see, in your dreams, I mean?" Sam asked Bucky the next day as they sat on his boat.

Bucky blew out air, "From what I remember, yeah. I could only see her I think. Why?"

Sam told him about his dream, taking a drink to swallow down the fear and confusion.

"I don't have any answers for you. I wish I did," Bucky consoled. "Some progress is better than no progress, though. Right?"

---

On the third night, Sam really considered not showing up, but what if he missed his chance? The entire thing was just so draining.

"Can you come get me?" the same female voice called, this time fearful and exhausted. "I'm running out of time, but I think I am in a warehouse of some sort. It's filled with people. There's locked rooms in the basement."

----

Sam listened intently. He needed to remember. He needed to get to you.

Here's Part 2

What did you think?? Let me know if you want off or on the tag list.

Tag List: @superwholockruleztheworld @imiiimargo @hiuahoe @idunnomayn @cable-kenobi @nialeesato @bklynxbaby @wolflover384 @mytbel0st @burnalley @heyarely16 @lilithknight1111 @loveyou5everr

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Hello I hope things are well for you! Could I please get some headcanons for how the companions would react to an older, fatherly Sole seeing them as a daughter/son?

Cait:

•At first Cait hates herself for the way she feels about you. Her real parents were the biggest pieces of shite she ever had seen and since then she decided she didn't need nor want anyone to fill that "hole" in her heart.

•She won't deny that as time progresses and your bond strengthens, her walls progressively come down and she comes to truly love you like family..she just can't seem to allow herself to say that you've like a mom/dad to her though.

Curie:

•She doesn't really quite know how to place the way she feels about you, but she knows she trusts you with her life and looks to you for guidance. Wether it's because you helped her so much while she was adjusting to her new body, or just because of the time you spent together as a whole- she might not understand the role you play in her life, but she is beyond grateful for your presence.

Danse:

•The whole situation would freak him out. As per most close relationships he gets into, he often times finds himself wondering just when you'll end up getting killed.

•Regardless- Danse very much so understands the relationship the two of you have and after some careful consideration, he counts himself lucky to have you. He doesn't ever remember having a parental figure in his life, so your presence filled a hole in his heart he didn't even know he had.

Deacon:

•He doesn't really know how to interact with you. Things were so much more simpler before he viewed you in this light.

•He is troubled, yes- but he can't deny that he deeply enjoys your attention. Maybe you don't necessarily fuss over him like a parent would- but knowing that you genuinely loved him in such a way despite him giving you every reason to joy trust him? Wow.

Gage:

•The moment he realizes what he feels for you and how you interact- he is met with this strange hollowness in his heart. Perhaps your "parental"-ness reminded him of something he long since tried to forget- somewhere deep in his blackened soul, there was a boy who secretly regretted leaving his mom and dad behind at their crappy farm just because he was tired of getting pushed around. It was one of the most selfish things he ever done and for the longest it didn't affect him, yes, he didn't lose sleep over it until you came in- his Overboss..

•He is understandably at a loss.

Hancock:

•It takes a long time for him to be "cool" with this dynamic, but it isn't impossible.

•It may sound kind of strange but once he comes to accept it- Hancock will purposefully go out of his way at times just make you proud. He doesn't feel like he needs something to prove, but stil...

Macready:

•No. hell no.

•Macready is in a similar boat to Cait in the fact that neither of them really yearn for a parental figure in their lives. However his reasons are because he just always got along on his own! He doesn't ever want to feel dependent on someone else..but after Duncan and you helping..well he definitely feels like your family. Hey, maybe Duncan having a grandma/grandpa figure wouldn't be so bad..

Maxson:

•It would be immensely hard to build this kind of relationship with Arthur, but hell..you're in for it once you do.

•He'll do everything in his power (whilst trying not show favoritism) to make sure you stay secure and preferably close. He never knew his real parents- not really at least- and he lost everyone he considered close enough to fill that space. He'll be damned if he lost you. He'd probably rather gift wrap a full Arsenal and send it off to a much of super mutants than let that happen.

Nick:

•It's rather strange for him to have someone to look up to like that- I mean..he's been somewhat of a lone wolf since he could remember- save for Ellie and a few good contacts.

•Don't be alarmed though, although it is weird as all get out- he just learns to accept it. Sometimes he'll even make jokes about how you are technically centuries old so it would only make sense..

Piper:

•No thank you. She has done well enough for herself and her sister without you waltzing in and making a mess of her emotions. The subject of her parents..or anyone close to her in that sense is just something she isn't in the right space to deal with. In addition to this, she wouldn't feel right if you harbored those feeling for her but not her little sister too.

Preston:

•No matter what your relationship, preston admires you..but with the added context of you viewing him as your son? The poor dude is both over the moon and scared as all hell.

•He just tries to enjoy his time with you- making sure ti accompany you on all those settlement missions that way he'd be there for you like you've been there for him.

X6-88:

•He doesn't really "get" what the two of you have and at first he thought it was really peculiar.

•As time passes on and he learns to cope with what he feels and process his emotions better, it's easy to say that you've really brought out the better in him by just being there for him and expressing genuine care. Wether it be in a parental type of way or not.

[dovenymph]

little lune

authors note: inspired by @soulmemesarc birthday prompts!🥳🎂 also this is unedited sorry for any typos

" no no no! breakfast in bed for the birthday girl/boy/angel! lie down, let me take care of this... "

" so there's this tradition. a law, really. i have to kiss you as many times as your age. so prepare yourself, babe. "

find my masterlist here

word count: 1.9k

you and harrison really didn’t have much in common.

this, you discovered, on your first date. he’d seen you at his neighborhood coffee shop on multiple occasions and prayed each day that you couldn’t see the infatuation building in his eyes, hoping one day soon, he’d’ve built up the courage to finally talk to you.

and you both thank god that that day had come and you spent nearly the entire day tucked away in the corner of the cafe talking about everything and anything.

he loved dogs, liked to consider himself a dog dad, even though the blue-grey staffy he showed you just over one million pictures of, technically belonged to his best friend. you on the other hand, grew up with cats curled up at your feet.

harrison could stay out all night, and did most weekends! very used to having to scrub last nights remnants off his body in the mornings and piecing together the events through blurry instagram stories. whereas, you were much more lowkey. always down for a good time, but couldn’t really stand the feeling of other people’s sweat on you while packed in a crowded club

despite this, the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. like he was the sun, and you were the moon.

when harrison first brought up the comparison, you laughed and teased him for being such a cliche but when he smiled down and replied with “just for you, my little lune”

your face burned under his palms as he spoke the pet name so adoringly and with so much kindness in his eyes. and in that moment, you both knew that your differences in opinion were trivial and the only thing that mattered was you both bonded over your growing affection.

your face burned under his palms as he spoke the pet name so adoringly and with so much kindness in his eyes. and in that moment, you both knew that your differences in opinion were trivial and the only thing that mattered was you both bonded over your growing affection.

there was one thing you both had in common though and that was sleep.

there was one thing you both had in common though and that was sleep.

you could sleep for hours each, harrison very proudly bragging that his record was 18 hours straight.

whenever you went over to his house, he immediately locked the two of you in his room, receiving many suggestive comments from his roommates about the nature of your activities, but in reality he just locked his arms around you and took you to dreamland with him as the two of you slept the day away.

so it was no surprise that that was the position you both were in right now, the morning of your birthday slipping away like a handful of sand through open fingertips.

soon enough though, the ring of your phone had gone off too many times for you to ignore and you had to wake up and face the multitude of happy birthday calls you were receiving, without a doubt waking your boyfriend in the process.

“mmm, tell them to fuck off” he muttered as your cousin wished you a happy birthday, the phone being passed around to all your relatives.

“can’t babe, m’family’s callin’”

“b-but… we haven’t had a birthday snuggle yet”

the softness in his tone (his teddy bear persona being reserved for your eyes only) practically melted you “almost over, m’love”

five minutes later, the last of your cousins and aunts and uncles had wished you a happy birthday and you hung up, the multiple conversations taking away any last shreds of slumber.

you looked over at haz who had his face smushed into the pillow, his soft, blond hair swept into his face, looking as delicate as ever. his hands involuntarily twitching at the comforter as they called out for yours to intertwine with.

with a smile you cautiously slipped off the bed, but he still awoke anyways, poking his head up like a child. “where ya going?”

“to start the kettle, go back to sleep.”

“no no no!” he whined “breakfast in bed for the birthday girl. lie down, let me take care of this.” he dragged himself out of bed, placed a tender and loving kiss to your forehead before shoving you to the mattress and throwing the covers over your entire body, leaving you nothing but a giggling white sheet.

his heart soared in his chest at the sound as he made his way to your kitchen. he’d only been over your place a few times, your relationship still relatively new. so he tried his best to quietly turn on the kettle and then locate your pots and pans to get started on a birthday breakfast for you.

as he was flipping the pancakes, he started thinking about making a little smile with the strawberries and that brought a little smile to his face.

he barely recognized himself when he was around you. he was so lovesick, so head over heels for you. unlike he’d ever been with any of his previous girlfriends.

your relationship wasn’t in the early stages per-say, he openly called you his girlfriend, and you your boyfriend, but he still felt the need to impress you, he still felt nerves creep in his stomach before every date. the honeymoon stage, as some liked to call it. the comfortability was just around the corner, he was sure of it. but until then, he liked to keep you on your toes.

placing the meal on a tray and walking back to your bedroom, he thought to later tonight and bit his lip. he had planned something for you, something grand. it was a little much for your first birthday spent together, but he only realized that after everything was payed for; but you deserved it. you deserved all the magnificent things life had to offer, and he would fall to his knees in order to be the one to give them to you. so he hoped you would like it.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday my darling, happy birthday to you” he sung as you looked up at him from under the covers.

“thank you, lovie. it looks great.” you smiled and he carefully placed the tray on your lap, crawling up next to you.

“anything for you, lune.” he spoke with a kiss to your lips.

that was how the morning progressed, bites of pancake shared here and there, syrup flavored kisses peppered in between.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

haz’s wet chest was pressed against your back in the bath. the room scented vanilla and filled to the brim with bubbles and candlelight.

“what do you want to do later today, haz?”

“anything you like sweetness, you’re the birthday girl.”

“hmm, nothing planned big guy?” you teased, and he splashed a little water on your exposed torso.

“of course i do… but, it’s still your day, you can do whatever you want.” he replied, pressing kisses to your neck.

“whatever i want?”

“mmhmm, have whatever, do whatever… have me do whatever you want… to you” he spoke, voice deep and kisses hard.

your heart rate picked up, sure he could sense it as he pressed his tongue to your pressure point, gasping you consented with “i like the sound of that”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“haz… can you at least slow down???”

“sorry! sorry! it’s not my fault i swear!” he retorted, swerving in and out of his lane.

“yeah well i can’t exactly tell now can i?” you snapped, feeling around the blindfold he insisted you wore

“hey! don’t mess with it! we’re almost there!” harrison looked over at you and worried his bottom lip in nervousness. the location was only down the road and every possibility was running through his head. did he invite enough of your friends? sure you got along with his housemates and coworkers, but he didn’t want you to feel awkward at your own party. was it too much, would you feel too pressured?

he turned into the parking lot and took a deep breath, you were here now, so it was now or never. “can i take it off now?”

“yes, sweetness.”

you yanked it off and immediately looked around, face contorting in confusion.

“cmon, it’s around the corner.” he grabbed your hand and started to make his way.

“i- i hope you like it. if you don’t that’s fine, we can do something else. i swear! no pressure really, this, this is really just an idea. but i thought it seemed fun, so i, yeah, again, i just hope you like it.” he rambled, about to add on another reassurance that you could leave whenever you wanted when your gasp interrupted him.

“woah…” you took in the field before you. fair games, food trucks, rides and even a ferris wheel covered the entire ground. your friends already enjoying the festivities.

“haz this… this is amazing…” your head snapped towards his as you thew yourself into his arms. “th-thank you so much, oh my god!”

harrison knew that if you weren’t anchoring him in that moment, he would’ve floated to heaven. you were so sweet and happy, he was more than elated.

“it’s all for you, babe. let’s go enjoy, yeah?” he said, pride running through his veins at the good job he did.

you found your friends, all giving you bear hugs and dragging you away from harrison to go on rides. he didn’t mind, he got to spend all day with you, and you were too good not to share.

he sat at one of the picnic benches as tom brought over two slices of pizza. “mate, i gotta say, this is fucking awesome”

harrison beamed at him at the compliment. “yeah i know!”

tom laughed and shook his head, “wanna call you a smug div, but honestly, y’should be proud of yourself.”

harrison felt his cheeks warm at his friends words. “thanks mate, i- i’m just glad she likes it.”

tom let out a *whapush* noise, “so whipped.” and harrison just rolled his eyes, but bit back any denials. he was whipped for you. not only did the thousands in pounds he spent for tonight prove it, but the way his heart danced in his chest at the mere though of you, did too.

“yeah, i guess i am” he smirked, meeting tom in a fist bump and beelined towards you.

you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind as you spoke to your friend, her eyes lighting up at the scene.

“mind if i steal her for a moment?” he asked, giving your friend his best puppy eyes, to which she giggled and shook her head, sending you a wink on her way.

“y’alright, birthday girl?” he muttered, head buried in your neck.

“more than alright. thank you again haz, i really, i really don’t know how i can make this up to you.”

he spun you around in his arms and gave you a passionate kiss, trying to convey all his love through it, hopefully telling you that you didn’t have to make anything up to him, that he’d buy you the earth if it’d make you smile.”

when he pulled away, you stared up at him like he was a figure from your dreams and he thinks you understood him.

“cmon, let’s go on the ferris wheel!”

“lead the way, lune.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

the night sky surrounded you both as you at at the top of the ferris wheel, looking down at the city.

“so…,” harrison began. you hummed in response and he squeezed your clasped hands together.

“so there's this tradition. a law, really. i have to kiss you as many times as your age. so prepare yourself, babe.”

you laughed and scooted impossibly closer to him, “oh yeah?”

“mmhmm! now remember, i don’t make the laws, only enforce them.”

he began to count upwards from one and kiss your lips. some soft and light, others held out and leaving you a little breathless.

“so many kisses tonight, i love it”

“well there’s more where that came from.” he said, “now where was i? oh right, 16…”

[dimitrescus-bitch]

New York City Standard (Veronica Lodge x Reader)

“Hermione, thank you so much for inviting to come and stay with you. Riverdale is an absolutely charming little town,” you thanked your exgirlfriend’s mother. Technically, you and Veronica had never broken up when she left New York, but she had essentially stopped talking to you. You understand that it was hard for her, but now that her father was out of the picture once again, things should have been easier for the two of you to rekindle what you had before. 

“The pleasure is mine. It’s been far too long dear. How have you been?” Hermione asked you. She had always liked you. Hiram, on the other hand, hated you and the fact that your ambitions didn’t necessarily benefit your family’s business. You were your own person and you’d definitely influenced Veronica a bit to seek out her own path, which he hated. 

“Very well. I’ve been accepted into Columbia for a pre-law program and if all goes well with that, I’ll have my choice at a number of ivy leagues for an official law program,” you told her. “Has Veronica mentioned college?” 

“She has been a bit reluctant to speak with me lately. I’m hoping that you will remind her of a better time.” Hermione led you through their home and knocked on a door. “Mija, you have a visitor.” 

“Okay, just a second!” Veronica called back. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, a sense of nostalgia taking over. You smiled a little as Hermione walked away and you were left standing in front of Veronica’s door. She opened it up and paused for a moment, almost as if she couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of her. “Y/n?” 

“Hello Veronica, may I come in?” you asked and Veronica stepped aside. You noticed two people sitting in her bed, a boy on her bed and a girl sitting hunched over a book. 

“Um, guys this is Y/n Y/l/n, she was my best friend in New York. Y/n, this is Betty and my boyfriend, Archie,” Veronica introduced you. You offered both of them smiles, even as they both eyed you suspiciously. “She’s nothing like Nick. In fact, she probably hates him more than anyone else.” 

“Veronica, I see that you’re busy, but when you’re free, I’d love to go to dinner. It’s been far too long since we’ve had quality time, lovely.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Veronica’s mouth. “It was nice to meet the two of you. Hopefully, we will become better acquainted during my visit.” 

“How long are you staying?” Veronica asked you and you shrugged. 

“I don’t really know yet, but hopefully by the time I leave, we’ll have arrangements for you to come into the city with me. It’s been horribly boring without you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You know, Archie is suspicious of your intentions being here,” Veronica said as the two of you sat in her living room having some drinks. “He thinks you’re here to steal me away from him.” 

“Technically, he’s the thief. We never really broke up, you just stopped answering,” you pointed out. Veronica looked down, guilt evident on her face. “I’m not mad though, that was a whole shit show of a situation. I also didn’t really expect for you to be that into me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I was always like your little show pony. The progressive streak to distract from the fact that everybody assumed your family was corrupt. They don’t care about embezzling whenever the golden daughter is dating the troubled black sheep from the business rival family. It’s a miracle that your dad didn’t try to have me whacked or something after he caught us kissing.” 

“Too obvious, and he wasn’t the only one who saw that,” Veronica told you. You sighed as you took a sip of your drink before setting it down on the table. “Besides, where is your evidence I didn’t beg him not to kill you? I meant it when I told you that I love you Y/n.” 

“Yeah, but if you said it again, would you still mean it?” you asked her. Veronica sighed and you laughed at her. 

“What’s funny?” Veronica asked you. 

“The golden boy found the golden girl. You’re just golden by New York City Standards. He’d crumble against the concrete if you weren’t behind him.” 

“And let me guess, you’d soar from building top to building top?” 

“Damn right Lodge.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Why is she still here?” Archie asked as you walked into Pop’s. “Veronica, you said she went back to the city Friday.” 

“She did, I watched her plane take off,” Veronica promised him. She was puzzled as to why you were there, but the second she saw the familiar mauve box in your hands, she knew what was going on. “You’re a character, you know.” 

“I’ve been told, but you wouldn’t refuse the best pastry in New York City, would you?” You held the box out towards Veronica. She took it from you and nodded at the empty spot in the booth across from her and Archie. “Afternoon Andrews.” 

“We’re sort of on a date here, if you don’t mind,” Archie said, his voice sounding agitated. 

“Oh no, I don’t mind one bit,” you laughed melodically. Archie muttered something under his breath and Veronica smiled as she saw the heart shaped scone. “I would have brought you coffee, but it would have gone cold. I dropped grounds off at your house though on my way here.” 

“Of course you did,” Archie scoffed. “You know that you can’t win her by buying her love. Maybe you could have before, but not anymore.” 

“I am not trying to buy her love Andrews. I’m giving a gift to my best friend. She doesn’t get to the city very often and I know that this place is her favorite. I’m sure if you were moved away from your home, you’d want someone to bring you Pop’s?” 

“Let’s go Veronica.” Archie got out of the booth and you set the money for his order on the table. 

“It’s on me, sorry for ruining your meal. Veronica, I assure you it’s not what I mean to do,” you promised her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You really are an asshole,” Veronica said as she caught you coming out of your hotel. “Archie is nice and I was happy before you showed up.” 

“Veronica, I’m sorry. I really am,” you told her. She grabbed your arm and tugged you away from your cab. “I’ve got a plane to catch.” 

“Is there room for one more?” Veronica asked you. “I want to go with you to the city. Even if it’s just for a little bit, I miss it. This place has made me soft. I’m not up to standard.” 

“Maybe you were always a bit soft and that’s why I liked you,” you suggested. “Maybe you could make me soft and that’s why I fell in love with you.” 

“Then, let me come with you for your sake,” Veronica offered. You nodded and opened the car door for her. 

“About your boyfriend?” you asked Veronica as you turned your head to look at her. 

“He hasn’t been my boyfriend since you crashed our date. Jughead is dealing with that aftermath and Betty’s just telling me not to screw this up too badly a second time,” Veronica said and you smiled a little. “I think she liked you too.” 

“So, when you find yourself coming back here, I’m allowed to call and visit you?” you asked and Veronica nodded. “Good.” 

Taglist: @storiesofsvu​ @xixxiixx​

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (16)

word count; 9744

summary; thomas does his best to explain and make amends for the interruption of the night before, but things always seem to get in the way.

notes; again, this part ended up getting too long so it was split up, the finale of this became the next part.

warnings; reference to drug use, reference to injury.

Slamming your car door shut, you took a deep breath. Brenda had collected you the night before and driven you back to the station to get your own car, a gesture you were thankful for because you weren’t so sure getting a cab would have been the best thing for you this morning. You were almost late, only a few minutes off the beginning of your shift, and you could still see the night team clearing out, sleepily waving polite greetings to you as they got into their vehicles to head home.

Grabbing your bag from the backseat, you slammed that door shut too, locking the car up and tucking your keys into the front pocket of your day bag, you didn’t even bother putting it onto your shoulder, covering your mouth with a yawn as you wandered towards the buildings main entrance. Your bag bumped against your leg as you went, feet dragging on the tarmac as you tried to shake away your exhaustion, a smile pulling at your lips as you remembered your night with Brenda.

As promised, she’d brought a bottle of wine and enough take-out food for the entire Squad, before following you back to your place upon picking up your car. You drank, and ate, and she listened to you complain about everything that had happened before doing her best to give you advice. She told you about how things were progressing between her and Minho, and that she was thinking of asking him out on a real date, and she watched Adam Sandler movies with you until the early hours.

You’d caught a few hours of sleep after she’d sobered up from half a bottle of wine and driven herself home, and you’d pumped yourself full of enough coffee this morning that you were almost jittering, but you still felt tired. However, you did feel a lot better.

Until you rounded the corner to the main door, and Thomas perked up from where he was slumped against the doorway, standing up straight as his back left the wall beside the door, eyes fixed on you as you approached, and your footsteps stumbled for a moment. He met you halfway, pausing before you and he stayed a foot or so away, hands twitching by his sides as debated whether or not to reach out, and you grasped your bag a little tighter, holding it with both hands now.

“I don’t know what to say, or where to start.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Thomas.” You let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping, and you shrugged. “I mean, there’s really nothing to say. There wasn’t anything hidden and there were no secrets, you didn’t sneak around behind my back, it’s just something that happened.”

“I know, but I wanted to explain to you that-”

“You bitch, how do you look better than me when you drank more than I did?” Brenda all but yelled the words, and you winced, chuckling a little as she came up to your side, hopping with her steps, and you admired how much energy she had.

“Pretty sure it was you who drank more than I did last night.” You retorted, and she shrugged, linking her arm through your own. The bell overhead chimed, muted from being inside, of the building as the door sat pegged open, and your eyes flickered to the building. “I haven’t even gotten changed yet, does this make me officially late?”

“I’ll distract Vince so you can sneak into the lockers?” Brenda teased, and you rolled your eyes at her, smiling nonetheless.

“I have to go.” You held your bag up, shaking it a little at Thomas, and he nodded his head, face smoothing out as his frown lessened a little.

“I know, I know. Can we talk, though? Please, at some point?” You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, before nodding, and trying to offer him the best smile you could, despite the pain swirling through you right now.

“Of course, later, alright? I have stuff to do first. I still need to fill out all the forms for medicine and equipment used yesterday. I didn’t do it after the call.”

“After that, though?”

“After that.” You confirmed, and he stepped out of your way, lingering for a while as Brenda tugged you along the corridor, her arm looped through your own as she pulled you away into the corridor. Once you were approaching the locker room with no Vince in sight to chastise you for not being changed yet, she glanced back over her shoulder, letting you copy, to catch sight of the doors to the common room swinging as Thomas walked into there instead of following. “What are we looking for?”

“Thomas.” She huffed, holding open the door for you as her arm left yours and you thanked her, jumping a little as it slammed closed, behind you both. She took a seat on the bench before you as you opened your locker, dropping your bag down and pulling it open to expose your uniform, before tugging your hoodie up and over your head. “So, you’re really just forgiving him? Just like that?”

“What are you talking about? He didn’t technically do anything wrong.” Her brows raised at you, eyes narrowing a little as she tried to analyse you, while you tugged your smart new shirt up your arms, buttoning it up over your vest. “Don’t look at me like that, Bren, you know it’s true. He loved her, and you know that as well. Of course, he told her things he didn’t tell me, they have way more of a history, a deeper connection than we do, and there was a lot of unfinished business because it was a messy end.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t love her, anymore. You told him all of your secrets!” She argued, and you nodded, undoing the belt of your jeans and popping the button, shimmying them down your legs before folding them alongside your hoodie. “If you love someone, you should be honest with them, and not let them be caught off-guard with a whole shitstorm of things they don’t know!”

“Exactly. If you love them.” You mumbled, covering your bare legs with your smart work trousers, and pushing your feet back into work-appropriate sneakers that you’d abandoned, listening to her huff as she caved, nothing else to say. “Really, I’m not mad, you shouldn’t be either, nobody should be mad at anyone.”

“Well, I need to be mad at someone, because I’m anxious about asking Minho if he wants to go to dinner with me, and I’m better at being angry than nervous. Anxiety doesn’t suit me.” She huffed, and you grinned, putting your bag away in the locker and swapping out what you needed, before sitting down beside her on the bench to tie your laces. “What if he says no?”

“Then he’s stupid.”

“Well, duh, I’m hot as hell and great in bed.” She scoffed, and you grinned, flicking her in the forehead for sassing you. “I know, but I mean, what happens to us if he says no? Do we keep on hooking up like I didn’t ask, will things get awkward?”

“Well, y’know, you have to ask. Otherwise, you’re always going to wonder what could have happened, and you’re so hung up on the bad that you’re not seeing how awesome things could be.”

“It seems ironic to hear you saying that, what with how you used to be.”

“I’m trying to give you genuine advice, smartass.” She let out a sound of protest at the insult, before letting the last of her nervous defences down for you. “Look, just ask him. If he says no, then you know where he stands and you can move on. Either way, you stop hooking up as ‘just coworkers’. You might become something more, you might not, but you gotta’ take the chance. The same way I took a chance all those months ago by staying here and not running away like I always do, and it worked out for the best.”

“The best? Even though things are rocky with you and Thomas?”

“Whatever is going on between me and Thomas is just a fleck on the surface of it all.” She stared at you, waiting for you to go on, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “The ‘best’ I referred to is finding a family and a home with you all, and finding best friends like you and Newt, and a place to stay for however long I can. I don’t want to move anywhere, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been happy where I was, but I am here, thanks to you all. Even if things never go any further between me and Thomas, we’ll still be friends.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. Which I rarely admit, so make the most of it.” She gave in, a smile taking over, and you held a hand out of her. She high-fived you, taking the offering, and you beamed, standing up and swinging your leg over the bench, before offering your hands out to her and pulling her to her own feet. “C’mon, I’ve got stock to take in the ambo, and you have a date to ponder.”

She sighed, dramatically, but wandered away with you. When you parted ways at the main door entrance, Newt was already sitting in the back of the ambulance, with the doors open, the clipboards out in front of him and both of your bags on the stretcher, the cupboards all open before him. The pen was held between his lips, and his phone was in hand one thumb moving rapidly over the screen as he typed away quickly, various diluted expression flickering over his face as he spoke.

You knocked on the door, your friend clearly not having sensed your arrival because he jumped rather violently when he heard your arrival, glancing at you for a second and letting his shoulders slump, before finishing his message and hitting ‘send’. He chucked his phone to the side to let it land on the beside your bags, and came forwards, sitting on the edge of the ambo’ and letting his legs swing. The pen dropped from his mouth, caught in his fingers and wiped on his shirt, your brows raising as you waited.

“I’m arguing with Derek.”

“Why?” You poked, his frown only deepening, and he shrugged a little, a flicker of anger passing over his features. “Seriously, what happened?”

“He cancelled our date, again. That night he was going to stay over, he didn’t but he said an emergency situation came in at the hospital and I figured that made sense. But then we rearranged for a week later, and he cancelled that too, and now he cancelled our rearrangement of the rearrangement which was supposed to be tonight, so I’m kinda’ mad.” Newt sighed, rolling his eyes slightly at his own reaction, and you plucked the pen and the clipboard from his hands, putting them down on the van floor and stepping a little closer. “I hate relationships.”

“Me too. You want a hug?”

“Mhm.” He stood, holding his arms out wide, and you wrapped yours around his waist as his went around your shoulders, squeezing you in tight to his body, and his chin hooking over your head. “So, why do you hate relationships? I thought you had a hot date last night?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things get in the way. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, you know I’m here if you do want to, right?” Newt pulled back enough to look at you, and you nodded your head, unable to help the smile you let out at his honesty.

“Yeah, I know.” You nudged his shoulder, and he stepped back, picking the clipboard back up, and clambering up into the van, holding a hand out to tug you up to follow. “So, I’ll count, you do the math, and we get it done in half the time?”

“Deal.” He beamed, and you set to work, turning your focus to the first cabinet, and the sets of bottles. You knew that there was no chance you’d actually used this much medicine, half of these bottles still had the seal on because they were so rarely used, but it was your job to check not only the quantities used but also their expiration dates and what needed replacing.

After pulling on a clean pair of gloves, you opened each jar, tipping the contents out into your hand if it was opened and counting each pill carefully back into the packet, so then it could be checked against the medication logs issued out, Newt adding everything up and writing down each name of medicine or treatment as you went.

You checked every cabinet methodically, rearranging the bottles inside of their holsters and putting them back, moving across the cabinets above the beds. The pair of you moved ins silence, as you always did when doing this job, putting your main focus on the medicines you were calculating, but his company was simply soothing enough.

There was something about being with Newt that was calming, doing this job was calming. It hadn't always been so, for a few months when you’d first moved to this house it had been tense and made your skin crawl, the silence for well over an hour as you counted bottles save for calling out numbers and giving dates on bottles used to make you feel uncomfortable. Now, you loved it. The quiet time with Newt made you feel relaxed, like you could let your walls down, and the mundane task of counting the medications gave you time to think. It was a safe space you could always use to clear your thoughts, a weekly task that helped you to keep your mind in order.

There was a lot on your mind today, everything from fear and confusion to an odd sense of serenity. You already knew that no matter what happened, this was your home, and if things never progressed between you and Thomas, if the furthest the two of you ever got into exploring what could be was the kiss that barely counted on his couch, you weren’t going anywhere. These were your friends, this was your family, and it was an incredible feeling like a rush of warmth simply to know that you were strong enough this time to make it through the pain, and that you didn’t have to run anymore.

Moving across to the drawers behind yourself, Newt was purposefully avoiding the buzzing on his phone as he moved to the bed, the humming of ‘Mr Sandman’ under his breath getting a little more aggressive each time another text came in, and you snickered as you listened to him.

“You know, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“Yeah, but not right now. I’m mad right now.” He scoffed, turning the device off entirely, and you gave him a pointed look, which he was more than eager to avoid. His pen went back to scratching at the paper, scribbling down notes with a little more force than necessary, and you turned back to finishing the final drawers. The supplies in there were definitely running low, everything from the needles to fluid bags was on the short side, and you needed more water bottles to go in the fridge, because you’d used up the last of them.

When the job was finally complete, you were simply left with grabbing your bag, and taking it with you as you went to the stockroom, ready to count what was in them and grab what you needed. Flicking on the light, it was cold inside, the concrete walls having no radiators attached to them, and you shivered at the icy feeling that had gotten caught inside.

Placing your bag down on the table in the middle of the room as the musty yellow light overhead warmed up and got brighter, Newt grabbed the large plastic basket from the table and added that to the middle, the clipboard and plastic bag following. You sourced another pen from the pot, used to Newt’s routine by now, and he handed you two cheers of charted paperwork, keeping two himself, as the two of you split the supplies that needed gathering.

Turning to the shelves, you glanced down at the first item on the list, staring at the writing on the paper for a second, before giving in. “Newt, can I ask you a question about Thomas?”

“Sure! Especially if it’s something embarrassing. Did you know he cried when Tony Stark died? Sobbed like a toddler who got their toys taken away.”

“Okay, first of all, we all cried.” You mumbled, grabbing the first few bottles from the shelf that you needed, and stacking them into the box. “But, no, this is something serious.”

“Okay, well, shoot.” His voice was a little strained as he reached up to one of the higher shelves, pulling a box forwards to get at the contents inside, and you left a little tick next to each box as you gathered the correct amount, or left a number next to the ones where the full amount wasn’t available, so you’d know what to order more of.

“Do you think Thomas is still in love with Teresa?”

“Oh, fucking hell, it is a serious question.” He had turned to face you, you caught his eye as you twisted to another bottle of ‘carbamazepine’ into the crate of supplies. “It’s also a loaded answer.”

“Stop looking at me while you tell me, it’s making me nervous. Pack as you talk.” He chuckled at the request, turning back to his work, and taking a few hesitant moments, before letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t think he does, no. This house was having a lot of substitute paramedics filling in with me before you, and Thomas was angry and upset for a while, and he made it real difficult for anyone to take this job because for a few months he was sure she was coming back, and then he lost hope at all. Around about month eight, you showed up.”

You felt slightly nauseous, like you’d somehow started prying into his business where you weren’t welcome, but Newt was sharing it with you, and there was arguably nobody who knew Thomas better, and what he’d be okay with you knowing.

“He was still hurting when you showed up, as you know, but then he wasn’t hurting anymore. You changed that for him, and he was happy again, he didn’t blame himself so much and he wasn’t so mad. I don’t think he loves her anymore.”

You swallowed thickly, not too sure what to say, and so you switched onto the next page of your set, staring down at the numbers, and trying to clear your thoughts. It was a lot to take in; on the one hand, it filled you with warmth and made you feel a little more secure, but on the other hand, it only made you doubt things further, because you wondered why he’d never told you any of it himself.

“Why do you ask?”

“Teresa showed up last night.” Newt hissed under his breath, the shaking of pills inside plastic sounding, and he continued to pack his collection. He finished before you did, putting down his clipboard and pen before opening up his bag, and moving on to restocking it with sprays and cotton pads. “She said they had unfinished business, and she knew a whole bunch of stuff that made me feel like I barely knew him. I didn’t even know about his mom, Newt. She knows him, I don’t.”

“She also left him.” He sighed, clearing his throat and forcing you to look at him as you finished your sheets, taking your bag and standing opposite him. “What you and Tommy have is nothing like what they had. She already knew everything about him, he’s taking it slow with you, he’s nervous. Maybe that's why he didn’t say anything. He really likes you, okay? You should talk to him about this.”

“I know, I know.” You huffed, shaking your head slightly, and giving in to the silence again as you packed your bag up carefully. You filled it up again, a fresh canister of antiseptic, new cotton pads, fresh packers of paper stitches and needles threads, and some new painkillers. When you were done, you grabbed both bags, Newt grabbing the basket, and the pair of you headed back toward the ambo’.

When you arrived, there was someone leaning against it, and Newt froze in his tracks, face growing a little icy as he stared at the man there. He looked sullen, white lab coat and scrubs swapped out for skinny jeans and a hoodie, his hands tucked into the pockets, and you felt like you were suffocating in the tension.

“What are you doing here? I am working.” Your partner hissed, stepping a little closer, and Derek lifted a set of flowers that he’d placed on the bottom of the ambulance, an offering as he gave Newt a soft smile. “You can’t have those here, and not in the ambulance. Some people have hay-fever, you know.”

“C’mon, are you really still gonna’ be mad at me?”

“Yes, I am, because you keep fucking cancelling on me,” Newt muttered, stepping past his boyfriend and into the truck with his box, huffing when he stumbled a little on his leg, and Derek placed a supportive hand on his back. You offered your friend a shrug when the dark-haired man sent you a pitiful look, begging for help, but you had no idea what you could do. “You know, if we’re breaking up, just say it.”

“Do you think that if I wanted us to break up, that I would have come all the way down here with flowers to apologise after you stopped answering my texts? Huh?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he was evidently exasperated with the situation, and you placed down your bags, under the stretcher, tucking them away securely, and Newt was angrily putting away bottles and packets. “I cancelled our first time, and that was a mistake, okay? The second time I just freaked out, because it had so much pressure on it then, and you know my relationship history.”

There was a story there, and you shuffled from foot to foot, feeling like you should go, but Newt shot you a desperate glare the second you took a few steps back, and you were frozen in your place to awkwardly endure the conversation you were listening to.

“Then, I felt bad for cancelling the second time because I was nervous. We rearranged again but I wanted to make it up to you, and do something more special, and you didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain, you just keep cancelling! You’re the one who suggested taking this step!” Newt’s voice raised a little, nearing a shout, and you poured your lips together. “You said ‘maybe we should call it off for tonight, and wait a few more weeks, and do something else’. If you aren’t ready, or you don’t want to, just say it! But don’t keep rearranging if you don’t plan to go through with it!”

“I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away with me for the weekend!”

“You were-” Newt cut himself off from his shouting, his cheeks going red, and he stopped where he was putting away equipment to stare at his boyfriend. “You were?”

“Yes, you hot-head! I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away for the weekend, when there would be no interruptions, we could book it off. Then you got mad at me and stopped answering, so I had to drag myself out of bed, on my day off, to come down here and fix it.” Derek huffed, and you covered your mouth to muffle your chuckle, but it didn’t work, because both men turned to look at you.

“I’m gonna’ go get more water bottles. You keep unpacking.” Newt nodded, face still flushed, and you spun on your heel, smirking to yourself as you walked away. Entering the common room, a few of the firefighters turned to look at you, raised brows as you made your way through the kitchen to the large cupboards continuing water bottles.

“What’s with all the yelling?”

“Newt got a visitor, and some flowers.” You teased, gasps and teasing going up around the room, and Fry raced to the window with Brenda to peer out of it. Thomas was sitting at the kitchen island, an abandoned bowl that had the remnants of cereal sitting beside him, and he watched you go as you pulled out several packets of water bottles to refill the fridge with.

“Are you almost finished with the ambulance?” There was hope in his voice, his eyes wide as he looked at you, glitter swimming in his irises, and you nodded, closing the cupboard door with your foot. “We can, uh- we can talk soon, then?”

“Yeah, we can.” You lifted one packet of the bottles, feeling a little guilty at the cold shoulder you were giving him when you’d sworn to yourself you wouldn't because he wasn’t to blame, and that you wouldn't take your pain out on him, because that would only put the two of you back to where you were when you’d first joined this team. “Do you wanna’ help me carry the water? If you’re not busy?”

He perked up a little at that, a small smile forming and he stood up, reaching out for two packets straight away. “I’d love to.”

Following after you as you took one of the final two, he followed after you quietly, turning to look at you with raised brows as he backed through the swinging doors and caught sight of Derek and Newt. The two seemed to have calmed down considerably, Newt was no longer yelling, and instead, he had a beam on his face, sitting on the edge of the van where Derek was leaning and staring up at him with what could only be described as heart-eyes, and you huffed a little.

As you approached, Newt’s attention moved to you, his cheeks going red as you placed down your packet of water bottles, placing your hands on your hips, and Derek turned to give you a wider smile now that he wasn’t as stressed.

“You know, when you gave me his number, you promised me peaceful.”

“Uh, I absolutely did not. I could never promise peaceful from Newt. I promised calm and simple. I have delivered, because as far as I’m aware, Newt has yet to force you on a rollercoaster or make you go skydiving.” Newt gagged falsely, before tearing open the plastic of one packet loudly, and opening the fridge to begin stacking them inside.

“I hate rollercoasters.”

“I know.” You teased, and he flashed you a toothy grin, while continuing to put water bottles into the door of the mini-fridge. “There’s another packet of bottles, I’ll go grab it.” You jerked a thumb over your shoulder, Thomas sticking his hands into his pockets, turning to look at you as Derek began to say his goodbyes, the two talking quietly among themselves and consolidating plans with as much privacy as they could get. “Then, yeah, we talk.”

He nodded, motioning his head over towards one of the fire trucks, promising he’d wait there for you, and you only nodded. It took you only a few moments to grab the last collections of water, Derek walking away and offering you a wave as he left, a little more of a pep in his step and a smile on his face than it had been when the pair of you had first seen him, and Newt was grinning madly to himself in the back of the van as you approached.

“So, not as dire as suspected, then?”

You placed the bundle down, leaning over it a little and balancing your forearms on it, crossed over as you looked at him, and your partner sighed happily. “Okay, so, maybe I was overthinking it, and maybe I reacted too soon, but there was compelling evidence, you gotta’ give me that.”

“I never said I didn’t!” You teased, and Newt lifted a whole packet, unopened, and began to stack them into the fridge, the scuffling of shoes a few metres away reminding both of you of Thomas’ presence, and Newt gleaned at his best friend over your shoulder, a split second diversion, before his gaze was back to meeting your own. His look said it all, and you slumped a little more, pouting slightly. “I know, I know. I’m gonna’ face up to it, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

“He looks like a kicked puppy. I hate seeing him like that.” Newt frowned, and your shoulders slumped a little further. “I hate seeing you like this, too. It’s killing me.” He reached a hand out, placing it over your cheek, and swiping his thumb over your cheekbone gently, matching your pout. “I’m here if you need me. I’ll support you. I’ll finish up with the bottles and put the stock order through. Go sort your shit out.”

“Thanks, Newt.” You took a deep breath, your gut twisting anxiously, before standing up, and turning around to face Thomas, who was waiting patiently, and pretending not to be trying to eavesdrop.

Making your way over, Thomas offered you a small smile, lips pursed together, but it looked more pained than genuine, and you felt bad that he was so worried, because you didn’t want him to have to be scared to talk to you. No matter what, you’d still be his friend, and his family, and a member of his team.

He shook himself down slightly, and you lifted a hand, placing it on his arm gently, just below his elbow, giving it a light squeeze and he seemed to lose some of his tension at the simple action, his gaze dropping down to it. He paused for a second longer, but he looked back to you, and you could see the cogs working in his mind. “Relax, alright? You look like you’re about to have a meltdown. You wanted to talk, just say what's on your mind.”

“There’s so fucking much on my mind, though, and I can’t think straight.” He huffed, words running out so quickly they all ran together, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Look, first, I just wanted to apologise, okay? Before we get to anything else, I feel like shit for letting you walk away, and having to get Brenda to come and get you. I was just, I don’t know, in shock, I guess? I wasn’t thinking, just like I can’t think now, there’s so many fucking thoughts, my head hurts.”

You frowned, and his eyes flickered over your features, waiting for a reaction. You weren’t sure what to say, but his gaze was too intense, though he seemed to pick up on your forgiveness because while your touch dropped away from his arm, you didn’t step away, and you allowed him to take a hesitant step closer, lifting a hand towards your cheek. Before it could land, you were looking away, your brows furrowing, and he pushed away stray hairs from your forehead. “Uh, Aaron?”

“It’s Thomas, actually.” Your sights snapped back to the man before you, an unamused look on your face despite the twitches of your lips, a direct contrast to the smile he was wearing as he attempted to lighten the situation, and you smacked the back of your hand against his shoulder.

“No, dumbass, Aaron.” You pointed behind him, to the main bay doors, and he swung around, turning to face the driveway, and the young boy you had helped so many months ago was walking up the front pathway of the firehouse, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. His body sagged a little, hands falling to his sides and curling into light fists, jaw tensing a little, like he’d only just actually registered what you’d said. “Can I-”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll just, y’know, wait here.”

You smiled, as best you could with the heavy air settled between you both, before turning to Aaron. He glanced around the garage, seemingly nervous, hiding it behind a scowl before he finally saw you and an endearingly happy look took over the teens face. Your footsteps were quick, almost a skip as you made your way over to meet him at the entrance, and his hands untucked from his pockets, one pushing his hood down from his head to his neck, and you took him in for a second.

There were scars, faded and scarcely noticeable unless the cuts he’d once had were burned into your mind, and you hadn't noticed any kind of limp as he was walking up here, showing that his physical therapy had been paying off, almost a year of it making his recovery possible. There was more colour to his skin, he didn’t look as pale and washed out as the first times you’d met him, and his hair had grown longer, shaggy and sitting long enough for him to run his fingers through, covering the tips of his ears. His smile reached a little wider.

“Aaron, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m thrilled to see you, you look like you’re doing so much better, but this is a surprise.”

“Yeah, I can see that, it looks like I interrupted something important. Are you in trouble?” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart, and you turned to look back at Thomas, who was leaning against the firetruck and kicking his heel back against the tyre.

“I am, but not the kind you think.” You mumbled, staring at him for a second longer, before bringing your attention back to the kid before you. “So, what’s up?”

“I, uh, you’re part of my rehab. Well, my therapy, really.” He scratched at the back of his neck, an embarrassed laugh leaving him, and you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. “I went to rehab, and I’ve been clean since the hospital, and my physical therapy worked, obviously. But, my sponsor suggested I started actual therapy, and for months I hated the idea, but I hit super low a couple weeks ago and I wanted to relapse but I didn’t want to let my sister down, and I didn’t want to let you down, and then I realised how long it had been since I’d seen you..”

“Oh, but I’m so happy for you! The fact that so much time passed by without you realising is a good thing. It means you’re doing well, and I couldn't be prouder of you.”

“Really?” He sighed, daring to look up from the concrete he was staring at, warm cheeks signalling his nerves.

“Really.”

He nodded, smiling again now, and letting his anxiety slip away, relaxing before your very eyes. “Good, because, I also wanted to ask you for some advice.” You raised a brow, curiosity filling you. “My therapist thinks I should set goals, y’know? I transferred schools and moved to a new neighbourhood and I got a kinda’ fresh start, and it’s nice, and my therapist says I should pick something to work towards. My grades in school are kinda’ crap and I’m working hard to pull them around but it’s a lot to catch up and with my history, I’m probably not going to college, so it leaves me with limited options.”

“Kid, don’t think like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Because, there’s a lot you can still do that doesn’t require you to have good grades. Maybe I won’t become a super cool paramedic, but,” He cut himself off, shy once again as he rocked on the balls of his feet, and you couldn't contain your smile. “Y’know, maybe a firehouse candidate doesn’t need all A’s?”

“You want to be a fireman?”

“I mean, is that too much?” He was worried now, and you hadn't intended for it to come across that way, shaking your head rapidly.

“No, of course, it isn’t! I’m just surprised. I’m also really, really happy for you. I think that sounds awesome.” He beamed, an expression that read like you’d made his whole day, and you filled with warmth at the idea. “I’m not sure on how it all works, I’m pretty sure you have to do a couple of training courses, and a season at the academy in your free time for your physical training, but I don’t know what that entails. However, one of our other firemen, Jeff, only finished his candidacy a couple of years ago, so he’s pretty fresh with it all. How about I talk to him, and get him to give you a call with some more information, yeah?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“‘Course I would, kiddo.” You reached out, messing up the mop of hair he had, and his face formed a scowl for just a second, smoothing it back down as you giggled, before turning away. “Let me grab you a pen and paper, hold on.”

He nodded, and you stepped away to the ambulance, opening up the passenger side door and reaching into the dash compartment, searching around for the pad and pen you knew was in there, among other pieces of junk, before finding both pieces. The young man took them from you when you returned, leaning against one of the side tables as he scribbled down the information he had; his name, his phone number, his email address, before handing it back over to you, his lips pursed to contain his expression as he kept up strong appearances.

“You’ll hear from him soon.”

“Thank you so much.” You tore the paper from the pad, tucking the pen through the rings and folding the used sheet neatly in half.

“It’s just some information on some courses. It’s nothing.”

“No, no.” He shrugged, biting his lips for a second, before focusing on what he wanted to say. “I meant, thank you for saving my life.”

There was more in his tone, more than just the physical act of changing his life, and as he stared at you honestly without a hint of anything but gratitude, you tried to blink back tears that were forming, and ignore the stinging in the back of your throat. “Well, that was my pleasure. Thanks for making me so proud with what you’ve chosen to do with it.”

“That was my pleasure.” He mocked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him, before he took a step back. “My foster mom is waiting for me in the car, I gotta’ go.”

“Go make me proud, come see me again soon, okay?”

“I will, I promise.” He hesitated for a second, before stepping forwards, and letting you wrap your arms around him as he squeezed you back just as tightly, sagging into you with what you guessed was a much-needed hug for him, running your hand up and down his back soothingly.

“You’re such a good kid, Aaron, you’re gonna’ be great.”

“I hope so.” His voice cracked slightly, and he avoided your eyes as he pulled back, rubbing at his nose and turning to make his way back toward the street.

He turned, waving at you for a second, before he was gone, getting into the car that was parked up and almost completely hidden by the bushes lining the pathway, but you saw enough to watch the excited look on his face as he spoke to his mom.

They chatted for a few minutes, before the car was pulling away, and you watched as he waved again upon seeing you still standing there, the car cruising past, and your cheeks were almost aching from your smile. Turning around, you detoured to the ambulance to put the pad and pen back, before Thomas was making his way over slowly, and you turned to him.

“Good chat?”

“He wants to be a fireman, Tommy.” His face softened a little at your joy, and you couldn't help it, feeling particularly attached to this patient, as he’d been so important to you, and you knew you’d never forget him. “He’s in therapy, and he didn’t relapse, and he wants to do something with his life. He said he wanted to make me and his family proud, and he wants to do something important and give back. God, he deserves it, he’s working so hard.”

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Thomas spoke gently, and you nodded, joy shooting through you.

“Yeah, it is. I told him I’d get Jeff to give him a ring or send him an email with some more information since he was a candidate pretty recently, but maybe you could too?”

“Of course, yeah.” You put the piece of paper securely into your pocket, patting it to confirm, before turning back to Thomas.

“Anyway, you were saying something before. You can continue now.” Thomas tensed up again almost immediately, and your mood was already beginning to lower again, but you tried not to let it sink any lower, no matter what Thomas had to say.

“I was just trying to tell you I was sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I mean, you loved her. Of course, she was going to know more about you, and it was messy, so there was unfinished business on her end and clearly some on your end, too. Which wasn't exactly a shock because you were still pretty upset over it when we met, I just didn’t know it still cut you up now.” You shrugged, confusion flicking over Thomas’ features, before dismay and disappointment were taking their place.

“That’s the thing, though, I didn’t know there was still unfinished business until she showed up. She was right there, and she was speaking about things like it was still a fresh wound and not something that happened almost two years ago, and it threw me.”

“Thomas..” You paused, nervous sickness sweeping over you again and you tried to steady it. “I think a little part of you must have known. I mean, I get it. It was sudden, and you were invested, and there was no build-up. But, you still had pictures of her up in your living room, and you still had her number, and ever after all this time, you were still willing to ‘catch up’ with her when she stepped back into your life. Somewhere, deep down, you knew, you just didn’t want to think about it.”

“I know how it looks, okay? I do, I really do, and I know I fucked up what we have going on, but there was more to it.” He paused, stuttering a little, before going silent, his words falling away, and he cursed himself under his breath as he tried to decide what to say. “She knows my mom, and I should have told you about my mom, I was going to, I planned to. But, it’s hard to just come out and say.”

“You think I’m mad, because you didn't tell me about your mom?”

“Well, I mean, I’m taking it from your tone that’s not what you’re mad about, but I don’t know if you’re mad at all, and whether that’s a good sign, or a really bad one, but-” Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you jumped violently, having forgotten that it was even there because you never normally carried it on shift, usually leaving it in your locker, but today was an exception. It continued buzzing, clearly not a text but a call, and Thomas’ face flushed with anger. “You’ve gotta’ be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot I even had it, let me put it on silent, okay?” You pulled it out, brow furrowing for a second as you looked at the number on screen, trying to place why you knew it, before the last few digits clicked in your mind. “Oh, it's the hospital! It must be about Gally!”

You looked up to Thomas, whose face smoothed over from anger at another interruption, but he nodded his head, seeming at least a little relieved. “Answer it, everyone needs to know.”

You clicked ‘accept’, bringing the device to your ear, and taking a few steps away to answer it. As you listened to the nurse on the end of the line talk, you could only focus on a few key pieces of information, humming and mumbling a  few words of acknowledgement as you chewed on the nail of your thumb, pacing in the entrance of the garage.

Thomas watched you, waiting for a few minutes, trying to put together how you were feeling clearly as he stared at you, puzzled you didn’t doubt, and you eventually gave up on the spot. Nodding your head to the man, you motioned toward the common room, and he made his way to your side, the two of you walking there in silence as you entered the room, and Thomas made sure to round up anyone who wasn’t in the room, including Vince, everyone gathering in silence and the television being turned off as they all waited.

When you finally got done, all eyes were on you as you thanked the nurse who had called you, clicking your phone off and putting it away. Letting out a deep breath, your hands rubbed together, and a smile pulled on your cheeks.

“Gally is okay.” Cheering went up around the room, a giggle on your lips that only increased when Fry scooped you up, swinging you around in circles once your feet left the floor, and you slipped in his grip slightly, insisting he put you down so you could finish what you had to say; “They got the bleeding under control yesterday evening, he’s all stitched up, and last night he woke up from his meds and was able to do a few tests, before the painkillers knocked him out again. He’s had all his shots, and they finished up their examinations.”

“Why does it feel like there’s a ‘but’ to come, though?”

“Because there is.” Vince’s eyes narrowed a little bit, analytically as he studied you again, and you sighed, the joy in the room dropping away as everybody turned from their celebratory chatter to focus silently on you again. “There was a lot of nerve damage in his shoulder, and he still has some movement, but he struggles to make a tight fist. He doesn’t have enough strength to lift anything up, not even something light. Admittedly, it’s only been twelve hours and they’re optimistic about it, they have great physical therapy programs and Gally is a healthy guy, but they said they can’t promise anything solid yet, but he may not be able to return if he can’t pass the physical requirements with that arm anymore.”

“He’s okay, though?”

“He has some use of the arm, right?”

“They say anything else about his recovery?”

“How long until they discharge him?”

The questions came flying in, overwhelming you a little, and you sighed, swallowing down the lump in your throat as hesitation swept in. “He’s okay; and yes, he has some use of his arm, which is a really good sign right now. They said some people don’t show signs of movement after that kind of trauma for days after surgery, so he’s doin’ good. They didn’t say a lot, but that’s because they have to talk to him about his recovery options first, doctor-patient confidentiality, y’know?”

They nodded, taking it all in, and Clint spoke up, from where he’d been leaning against the wall in silence. “How long until we can see him?”

“We can go see him from tomorrow, as long as it’s during visiting hours, of course. As for discharging him, I’m not too sure, they didn’t say. If I had to make a guess, though, I’d say they’ll keep him for observations for another week or so, and then send him home on extended leave for work.”

That seemed to soothe everyone, plans to visit Gally and who would go and when immediately taking up, and Vince excused himself from the room, remaining professional despite his relief as he gave the reasoning of going to arrange a temporary Truck lieutenant replacement, but you suspected he just wanted to relax in his relief alone, where he didn’t seem any less strong or fit to lead by doing it in front of his crew.

You were floating on a little bit of a high, having seen Aaron and now having good news for Gally, what had started as a bad day was very rapidly becoming an epic one, despite the lingering sadness still hanging over it.

Scooter woofed, loudly, expressing his own excitement as he sensed everyone else's, and he sat up in his bed, the new cushion with his name stitched across the front that had arrived a few days ago, chosen specially by Minho himself as everyone chipped in for it, and you crouched down, tapping at the floor for him, and the puppy came bounding over.

Scratching behind his ears, his tail wagged excitedly, thumbing against the tiles floor when he sat down for you, before he was rolling over, exposing his belly to you for scratch, and you chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Golden fur as growing back on his body, no longer showing the patches that had been shaved, and he was almost at the end of his medication course, the pills that you had to crush and hide in his food to get him to at, and you certainly wouldn’t miss that struggle every day as you disguised the medicine he needed. His stitches had dissolved and burns were healed, a half-used tube of dog-friendly skin cream having worked wonders, and the bottoms of his paws that had been swollen and sore were all fixed up, allowing him to run and bound every time you took him for a walk without any pain.

“Hey, you know I taught him a new trick?” Minho came over, crouching beside the puppy and scratching at his tummy two, taking over as you pulled your hand back, and Scoot squirmed and yipped happily on the floor with his excitement. Something in Minho’s tone suggested he wasn’t talking about tricks like ‘sit down’ or ‘roll over’, and you chuckled. “Do you wanna’ see?”

“Yeah-”

“No!” Thomas interrupted, and you turned to him, brow raising, standing up a little before him, and his face crumpled a little. “I mean, in a few minutes. Just give us, like, fifteen minutes, please! No interruptions or anything, I just needed fifteen minutes to talk to you.” His tone was pleading, and you nodded, holding up your phone.

“Let’s go put this away in my locker, and then I'm all yours, alright?”

He nodded, following after you as everyone mingled around, returning to their business as they waited for the day to go by, and you unhooked your locker, placing it on the shelf inside as soon as you could. There was evidently a lot Thomas wanted to say, he looked like he was running through it in his mind, various expressions taking over one another in quick succession as his thoughts worked, and he followed you silently as you guided him out of the locker room, and into the hall. He took a breath, before you could speak, and then your name was being called by Brenda from the garage, and Thomas growled under his breath.

“Why are you the most popular person on the surface of the fucking planet today?”

His hand found your wrist, securely but not so tight as to hurt you, and he tugged you along behind him, ignoring the second shout of your name from Brenda as she entered the hallway at the opposite end of the corridor, noticing you. You glanced back, protesting a little as Thomas pulled you with him and guided you through the halls, before opening the door to his office. He looked stressed, closing the door, and turning to face you as your back pressed to it, eyes wide at the look on his face.

“I just need five damn minutes to tell you how I feel and what the hell is going on and I can’t get even thirty damn seconds today.” He wasn’t talking to you, more like yelling at the universe, but he was jittery and on edge over it all.

“Tommy..” His attention moved to you at the sound of the nickname, his features softening slightly.

“You’ve got me now. Just talk, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” He was whispering it to himself, calming down, and his eyes closed. Two deep breaths, and then he was looking back to you, sadness swimming in pretty brown irises. “The first time I called Teresa was a long time ago, okay? You’d been here for, like, two months. We were arguing all the time and I was pretty sure you despised me but you reminded me of her and it made me miss her more. I called her, and told her I missed her. And, yeah, I told my mom that too. But, that was before any of this started.”

He waved a finger between you both, pausing for a second, and you stepped a little closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek, which he happily leaned into. “Thomas, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His hand closed over yours, holding your hand there for a second longer, before pulling it away. “I called her again, the night after the first time we spent a day together. After Chuck’s funeral. It had been so long since I had actually seen her, and we were drunk by the end of the night, and when I got home and I was alone again, I was sad and confused. “I wanted to tell her it was over, I wanted to finish whatever was unfinished between us, but she didn’t answer. Admittedly, it was like three in the morning by then, so I’m not really surprised she didn’t. But, by the morning, I wasn’t brave enough to face it again. It fucking hurts, still. All of it, it hurts to dig back up, but not as much as it did.”

“You’re brave, Thomas. You were brave telling me everything you have, and I know there’s something different and deeper that you had with her, and that’s okay. You can never just forget her, she was a part of your history.” He frowned, sensing it was going somewhere else. “I just need to know if I’m going to be a part of your future or not.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, Tommy.” He sighed, lips pursing when his chin wobbled, and you lifted your hand again, hovering near his cheek, and he nodded, letting you cup his jaw softly. “I’m not going anywhere, but you gotta’ decide, okay? I don’t want to be strung along, and I’m not mad at you. I’m not going anywhere, this is my home. So, no matter what happens, I’ll still be here and I’ll still be your friend.”

“I don’t want us to be just friends, though.”

You nodded, dropping your hand from his face, and he looked a little more broken as you did, but he let you step back. “I know, Thomas, but I can’t be a second choice, okay? I can’t be with you, if you’re still in love with her. Just make your choice, and let me know, okay?”

“But I don’t. Love her, I mean. Not anymore, you changed things. I know she’s back, and I sorted things out, and I know it all seems like I didn’t but I..” His words trailed off, not knowing what else to say, studying your face carefully as he tried to find what you were feeling, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was looking your feelings up tight.

Silence fell between you both, only the sounds of heavy and deep breaths to break the tension, before the chiming overhead muted by the closed office door called you both away to a call.

He paused, just for a second, before glancing at the door, signalling the pair of you to go. Once you opened the door, you could hear the rushing of the team, multiple footsteps and the sounds of engines starting as they all ran to their stations, boarding the vans, and as you reached the doorway to the corridor, a second before entering the busy garage, you turned to him, watching as he came to a halt from where he���d followed behind.

“If you want to try and make things work with her, that’s okay. If you want to make things work with me, then you already know I want that, too. I just need you to clear things up, that's all, and if you want us, then we’ll start over, okay? We’ll forget last night ever happened, okay?” He nodded, a vulnerable look on his face as he stared at you, hope flickering over his face. “You promised you’d never hurt me, Tommy, so just don’t hurt me.”

He only nodded, the two of you backing out into the main bay, and Newt was waiting next to the ambulance, the Truck can already pulling out, and Thomas was kicking off his shoes to pull on his work boots as you climbed into the passenger seat, following the first red van, as the second one followed the two of you.

Newt didn’t say anything, which you were grateful for, because your emotions were in overdrive, the idea of him picking an option that wasn’t you cutting deeper than you cared to admit, but he silently offered you companionship on the ride. He didn’t comment on your cracking voice or occasional sniffles as you tried to read off the information that had come through on the screen of the ambulance as he drove, to prepare you both for what was coming.

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 2/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 2/3 WORD COUNT: 8600+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | some mentions of death | mild sexual content SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

You got up really early despite staying up late and only getting five hours of sleep max, but once you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed so you prepared for the day, waiting for Sukuna’s call. You went to the patio which faced the backyard, carried a small blanket and brought your battered copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s prose collection with you.

A few hour later, you heard stirring in the house and it wasn’t long before Satoru found you. He sat on the lounge chair opposite yours and just stared at you through sleepy eyes. He looked all disheveled, eyes bloodshot and yawning several times. He really couldn’t handle his alcohol and when he wakes up after drinking more than he could take, he always ends up befuddled and unable to make sense of his surroundings, not to mention irritable.

When he just sat there without saying anything and staring at you, you snapped your book close. “What is it?”

He snapped out of a seeming trance. “Oh. You have a guest.”

“Huh?”

“Ieiri said it’s Howard.” He yawned again, stretching his arms.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes, him.”

You scrambled off the lounge chair, nearly knocking it to the side with your weight as you half crawled, half-ran towards the door, suddenly remembering your agreement the previous night. You were mentally slapping yourself as you made your way into the hallway, planning to go up to your room to have a change of clothes. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do because he did not exactly specify that bit.

However, your plans did not come into fruition when you passed by the lattice wood and glass partition between the kitchen and the hallway and saw him.

“Y/N!” Ieiri pretty much yelled your name out, calling your attention and making you jump, startled. “Howard’s here.”

Sukuna glanced at her momentarily, probably catching the name she referred to him with.

The protest died in your throat when you saw Sukuna standing by the counter, looking so out of place in such a domestic setting although he was dressed casually in a black tee with a wide collar that exposed his collarbones for the world to see and faded jeans, similar to the one he wore that time he came to your school.

You grimaced at the realization that you were just standing there like an oaf, checking him out. It was evident in the way his smile morphed into a shy one as he bit his lower lip while Ieiri and Suguru grinned evilly at you. Feigning ignorance to their reactions, you entered the kitchen, brows knit together, shooting Ieiri an inquisitorial look after nodding at Sukuna’s direction. It was a dumb way of greeting people, but that was about what you could manage with the way your brain was being fried at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t know we received guests in the kitchen now,” you commented, noticing the number of grocery bags on the counter. “You did the shopping?”

“I did,” Sukuna answered you. “I told you I was going to do something for you.”

“'You' being the technical term,” you said with a smirk when you realized what he was planning. “So you’re gonna cook for me?”

“Yes.”

You eyed your two friends who were eyeing Sukuna in anticipation. “Just me?”

“Stingy,” Ieiri commented, pouting.

Woman, you thought, eyeing her sternly in case she had plans to say something embarrassing. You spoke before she could say more, approaching Sukuna who was suddenly just looking at you, your eyes in particular. Out of a sudden, he reached out and touched the spot just under your left eye, making you step back at the sudden contact. He was touchy, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to be so candid in front of your friends on such a setting.

“Your eyes are swollen. Is something the matter?”

You smiled at him then, shaking your head. “I didn’t sleep enough last night.” You busied yourself by checking the things he bought. “So…” You looked at his pretty hands then at him. “The Spring God can cook?”

He gave you a funny look at the nickname you gave him. “Watch the Kitchen God work!” He chuckled then turned his attention to Ieiri. “I was just asking Ieiri if I could borrow the kitchen.”

“It’s more Suguru’s kitchen than hers,” you sniped at her who was now sitting on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm as she looked at the pair of you as if she was watching a really cheesy romance drama.

“Then it’s settled. I have to cook for them, too.” He ruffled your hair then. “Mind helping me?”

“I’ll leave you kids then,” she said sounding like a mom, leaving the kitchen and blocking Satoru’s progress when he was about to enter, leading him out into the living room much to the latter’s annoyance.

You shook your head, snickering. You really couldn’t wrap yourself around the fact that Sukuna could cook. “Should I get you an apron, chef?” you asked, meaning to taunt him, but then he took out a rolled-out piece of black cloth from a black case he brought along with the groceries and said, “I brought my own.”

Knowing that you can’t say anything else to annoy him about cooking, you started sorting out the things he brought, taking them out of the bags and fixing them in an organized way on the counter while he proceeded to take the foodstuff to the sink. All the while, you were watching him as he cleaned everything, his dexterous hands moving with precision and unmistakable expertise.

After fixing everything and putting away the bags, you stood beside him on the sink. “You do this a lot?”

“Pretty much.”

It was fascinating to watch him work so you didn’t say anything else until he took the case again and produced a professional-looking set of knives with customized handles. “Okay, now I’m scared.” You arched a brow at him. “Why the hell do you have a knife set?”

“I love to cook,” he answered, laughing slightly without taking his eyes from what he was doing.

“I figured, but I thought, you know just cooking at home, following online recipes and stuff like that.”

At that, he laughed. “Those recipes don’t work half the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his sentiment but then you saw how he was cutting the ingredients on the chopping board like a pro. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“Now I mind assisting you. I refuse.” You felt a bit miffed about his mad skills in the kitchen, and you knew it would be foolish to even question how his dish, or dishes rather, was going to turn out. It got you thinking about every other thing he can possibly do, and you found yourself falling deeper. “I’m shit in the kitchen. You can have Suguru to help you.”

“But I already asked him for help yesterday to plan all this.”

“Did you now?” Your eyes flicked over to the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room and glared at your friend, remembering your conversation with him. He threw you a rueful smile.

Sukuna pouted. “You can’t take it back. Surely, you can chop onions.”

“I guess.” You took out a knife from the rack and grabbed an onion. “How do you like it?”

“Minced.”

“Okay.” You started chopping the thing rather slowly, trying to be precise, but since you were taking too long, your eyes started watering before you could even get it halfway done. “Ah, shit!” you grumbled, putting the knife down rather harshly.

Sukuna laughed, turning you around so you were facing him. “Are you okay?” he asked in between laughter, wiping your tears away with some paper towels. “You were too slow.”

You screwed your eyes shut, still feeling the sting behind your eyelids. “Well, I don’t cook.” When you opened your eyes, you almost stopped breathing when you saw those dark orbs of his directly in front of you.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’re crying,” he cooed.

“Onion…” You took the paper towel from him and started wiping your eyes yourself, turning away from him when you saw the teasing beam on his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m cooking for you, and I’m annoying? Let’s see how that opinion changes once you taste this masterpiece.”

You did not say anything about the matter anymore and instead watched him work, handing him this and that and doing as he tells you. Sukuna was kinda scary to work with since he obviously had a fixed process about how things should be done, but at the same time, you found yourself mesmerized by his fluidity as he moved around as if he had been in the kitchen his whole life.

“What are you making anyway?” you asked as you were putting away the things he didn’t need anymore.

He looked over his shoulder as he stirred whatever he was making. “That’s a secret.”

You shrugged, looking into the pot. “Just tell me already.”

He placed his free arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, seemingly oblivious to the three pairs of eyes which looked towards the direction of the kitchen every so often, spying on the two of you. “Patience, sweetheart. You’re gonna spoil the surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whined.

He planted a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’ll see.”

By the time Sukuna was done, your dining room looked more like a five-star restaurant than that of one owned by four university students. Well, the table did. You weren’t really familiar with the dishes he prepared since he won’t tell you what they were. You only recognized the lobster thermidor, but all the others were a mystery.

Your friends were thrilled when they saw the table and you were just stunned. You pretty much just watched Sukuna, but he didn’t let you see what he was doing in the dining room, making you promise to sit down in the pantry while he prepared. He went overboard, but you loved it, too.

“I feel like I’m going to pay with all the contents of my bank account after this meal,” Suguru said as he sat down at the edge of the table, making Sukuna laugh.

You sat to his left while the chef sat beside you, explaining the dishes to you and the three other people with you with such technical terms, half of which you didn’t really understand. Suguru did though. Sukuna plated the first dish and offered it to them.

“I hope you would find them to your liking,” he said.

“Y/N’s grandpa would be super impressed if he was here to see this,” Ieiri asked.

You snorted. “Oh my god, Ieri, what are you being such a pain for?” You turned to Sukuna then who looked at you questioningly, but you pretended not to notice. “And you, chill and eat. They can get their own food.” He grinned at you but instead of serving food for himself, he started putting food on your plate. You watched him pointedly. “I can do that myself. Eat!”

“In a bit.” He finished by placing sauce on the lobster then smiled your way before getting food for himself.

“This is phenomenal cooking, man,” Satoru commented delightedly at the first bite, seemingly forgetting about his headache, and Suguru made a sound of approval, eating with gusto. “Will you cook for us every day?”

“Suguru!” you protested.

Sukuna laughed at that. “Maybe not every day.”

You shot him an annoyed look but ate as well. They were right. His cooking was beyond good. “On second thoughts, I don’t mind you cooking for us every day, too. This is totally great!”

“Told you.”

The meal was rather pleasant with your pals engaging Sukuna, obviously taken by him. The deal was sealed where he was concerned. You knew it had nothing to do with the food. They just liked him. He mostly conversed with them while you just pitched in once in a while, too busy eating. Besides, you wanted them to get to know him, too, and you were more than glad that Sukuna was making the effort to be acquainted to them.

After lunch, Suguru and Satoru volunteered to do the dishes, in a very good mood after the magical meal while Ieiri tidied up, leaving you and Sukuna alone. You decided to tour him around the house although there was nothing much to see, leading him into the upstairs hallways. Your house was quite big for only the four of you, but not stately or anything. It was just a normal house with too few inhabitants and too many rooms.

You walked towards the west hall. “Those are all guest rooms and those at the end of the hallway are Satoru and Suguru’s rooms.”

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

You cocked your head towards the east hallway, beckoning him to follow you as you led the way to said room, pointing out the other rooms you passed by, just three of them until you reached the last door. You pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

“Huge space,” he commented as he looked appraisingly around, his feet leading him to the large, framed posters of your favorite book-based films and games. “You are a nerd.”

You just watched him, leaning against one of your bookshelves as he ran a finger over your "Harry Potter" movie poster. “Guilty.”

Sukuna then went look at your book collection. “It’s not bad.”

“I’m a literature major. I think it makes sense.”

“Books and more books. How many of these have you actually read?” he asked, taking your volume of "Twelfth Night."

“All of them.”

He eyed you, evidently impressed. “Shakespeare?”

“Yeah. That’s basic in my field.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Beautiful, cultured and smart. I like it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” He returned the book on its place. “So, apart from literature, what else are you interested in?” He glanced at the glass case at the opposite end of the room where your scale-model figures and rows upon rows of console games were. “Well, apart from action figures and video games.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to be brooding over it. “Well, recently, I’ve just been interested in one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

He chuckled, pulling you towards him, the warmth of his hands burning through the fabric of your shirt, making you all giddy. “Alright, sweetheart. Your brutal frankness is really scaring me.”

“Door’s wide open. You can run.”

“You won’t chase after me?” he asked.

“You’re gonna wanna see me after anyway, so no.”

“Hey, that’s mean!” But then, he seemed to have thought of something. “Why does Ieiri call me ‘Howard’?”

You retreated from him and slumped down one of the beanbags while he sat on your swivel chair, turning it a hundred and eighty degrees repeatedly. “You caught that, huh?” You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled from your throat at his question. “I didn’t know your name the night we met but Satoru told them about you and I kinda just used the name to refer to you. You know, from the book I was reading at Maki’s.”

“The architect.”

“That one.”

“I see. I don’t mind then since you told me you’re in love with the character.” He winked at you. “But yeah, I was wondering if you enjoyed the meal at all. You haven’t said anything.”

“That speaks volumes of how much I enjoyed it.”

“I’m not really good at this whole impressing anybody thing, but I wanted to make the effort for you and your friends.” Sukuna sighed in relief. “I’ve only ever had one girlfriend after all, and I didn’t really do much in the relationship. And I never really went out with other women after that either save for some casual dates.” He smiled sheepishly at you, but he was confused at your reaction.

You just stared at him quizzically and in disbelief. There was no way you will ever believe that he only dated steadily once and didn’t go out that much to paint the town red. It was inconceivable for the obvious fact that he was so beautiful it was inhuman along with that great personality he has. Women will be lining up for him for sure.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

You shook your head, looking dubiously at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” He shook his head as if to punctuate his statement.

“Everywhere we go, girls look at you and you expect me to believe that crap?” Hell, you wanted to pounce on him more often than not.

His expressions turned smug. “You care enough to notice, I see.”

It was unbelievable but you had to take his word for it. “You don’t sleep around either?”

“No. It just isn’t my thing.”

You just stared at him, your lower lip jutting out, not in disbelief anymore but in wonder. He’s a sensitive soul, you’ve figured that out, but you didn’t know it ran deeper than what you’ve seen so far.

“Don’t look so sad there.”

“I’m not. I really just don’t see it happening.”

“Should I be flattered?” he asked, but before you could answer, he said, “How about you?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly thinking hard about what you’re going to say to him. You didn’t really have a good track record where dating seriously was concerned. It was just not your cup of tea. “I’ve never had an exclusive relationship...” you began, eyeing him cautiously, “…ever.”

“Never?” He seemed to be having difficulty processing that.

You shook your head, your gaze guarded as you tried to gauge his reaction to your revelation. Somehow, you did not expect him to ask about the matter, and when he did, you didn’t really have a clue as to how you would address it. You realized just how different you were from him on that department. He seemed to value the emotions that come with engaging in physical intimacy while you just didn’t care enough for anyone to notice it.

“Now you’re shitting me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned. “I think I mentioned this to you in passing the second time we met. I don’t date, at least not steadily.”

Sukuna obviously couldn’t wrap his head around the thought. “So you haven’t had a steady commitment with anyone?”

Again with the negative response. “Uh-uh.”

“Is it a matter of choice or is it a matter incapability, this I-don’t-date thing?”

“Both?” You shrugged, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “I don’t for the reason that I don’t want to make a steady commitment. I just don’t see myself being invested with such intensity in anyone in a romantic way.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I get sick of people I’m involved with. In that manner, at least.” You chuckled humorlessly. “So…yeah.”

“But you’ve dated, right?”

You nodded. “Openly, yes, but I don’t stay long enough to really get into the whole relationship thing.” Talking about it was excruciating. It wasn’t something you discussed even with your friends. Suguru thought of it as you playing the field, but really, you had issues with the prospect of staying in an established bond with one person for a long period of time. You didn’t really know what to do with the information although you understood the mechanics.

He frowned then, looking deeply troubled. “So, you don’t date?”

“I did not date.” You made sure to emphasize on the past tense, knowing well what he would be assuming. “'Did not' being the operative term.”

“And now?” he asked, standing up when you did, too.

You stepped towards him. “What do you want it to be? It doesn’t just depend on me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said patiently, coming to meet you halfway and cupping your face as he tilted his head down to look at you squarely in the eyes. “But I do want you for the long run.”

“For now, it’s just that you’re slowly changing my views about it,” you returned. “But I like you, Sukuna. And I care about you. A hell lot. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded.

You reached up, touching his face, running your finger over his jawline. “Can we work with that?”

He pressed his lips onto your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “Count on it.”

***

"How do I look?" you asked as you walked into the living room in the black, long-sleeved, backless, lace mini cocktail dress that Ieiri chose for you, your pencil heels of the same color clacking on the tiled flooring. You found your three friends lined up on the couch like expectant parents who were sending off their daughter to her first dance, making you laugh.

"Stunning!" Satoru complimented without hesitation, jumping up the couch to make his way to you. "Our daughter's grown up, Suguru."

"Last time I checked, I'm the only one who was raising her," the other male replied.

"You did a good job."

"I did a good job," Ieiri chimed in.

You shook your head, checking the contents of your clutch. It was hopeless trying to get a proper answer from them, but you needed their output since you were new to the whole dressing-up for dinner thing because you never really allowed anyone to wine-and-dine you; never wasted time and resources on anybody you knew you weren’t exactly interested in for the long run. Still, you were more than happy to say yes to Sukuna when he said he'll be taking you to dinner after your exams.

He's been hanging around you almost every day since he cooked lunch at your place, making good on his words to you where the status of your relationship was involved. He would either come see you in the morning before he went to work or meet you at night for a quick drink at Maki's pub. At times, he'd be dropping by at your school during his breaks. And on the previous weekend, he came over, satisfying himself by sitting quietly on the couch with you leaning against his chest while you studied, even going through lengths of helping you out. At some point, you gave up cause he was distracting you, telling you about his plans while playing with your hair.

"You're gonna cook for me," you assumed.

"No. I'm taking you to that fancy restaurant in town."

You agreed without protests even when he refused after you suggested to split the bill knowing how expensive the place could be. You didn’t want him to think you were mooching off him just because he was older and you’re a broke university student. He seemed excited about the whole thing, so you didn't argue further.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house, and you made your way to the door despite Ieiri's tirade about you supposedly making the man walk to your door and ringing the bell, probably make him wait, too. Knowing Sukuna, he'll do just that but you didn't want them to pull their antics while that cliché scene by the doorstep unfolded. But she beat you to it, running a lot faster than you to open the door when you were halfway through the short hallway. Just as you were afraid of, Satoru and Suguru were also standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Guys!" you growled.

"We just wanna see you off," Suguru whined just as Ieiri said, "Hi, Howard."

"Hi," Sukuna returned the greeting, even waving at the boys behind you, looking debonair in a smart-casual charcoal grey ensemble over black, collarless button-downs.

Your annoyance died down at the sight of him and you felt yourself melting when your eyes finally met and he beamed brightly as he took in your appearance, looking like he was seeing color for the first time.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded, stepping around Ieiri. "We're going" you told your friends, shooting them all warning looks before breaking into a nervous smile anyway as Sukuna led you away.

He opened the door to the passenger side of his... "Where's your Jeep?" you asked him, noticing the matte black sports car for the first time.

"At home," he told you. "I thought I'd switch it up for the occasion."

You shook your head as you climbed in, not really expecting him to go to that extent. You appreciated it but you weren't really high maintenance nor did you want the finer things. "So you just happened to have a Porsche 911 lying around?" you asked him when he finally made it to the driver's seat.

He nodded innocently. "I got it on a whim last year, but I decided it's too flashy so I had it stored at an exclusive garage and only took it out whenever I felt like it. I think this is a good time to take it for a spin."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He reached out to caress your cheek. "You're a vision, by the way."

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his gentle touch, but you held his hand in place as you faced him. "I could say the same for you."

"I always wear suits though," he said.

"Well, you're much too impatient with your blazers and you get rid of them when we meet," you began, "And you don't wear those for me."

He flashed you a cheeky grin. "Oh, so you want your men to dress for you?"

"Man, Sukuna. Singular."

It was his turn to blush. "I'm the only one, huh?"

You tilted your head to the side, smirking. "You wanna add someone else into the mix? I didn’t know you were into that."

He was flustered. "No?"

"If you have an exact replica, I wouldn't mind."

Sukuna burst out laughing. "You're crazy."

"It's your fault for hijacking my brain all the time."

Dinner had been great with the both of you pretty much making fun of the numerous silverware before you and making up stories of the haughty guests who came into the same fancy restaurant, some of whom were looking towards your direction.

"That one's a trophy wife," you told him, furtively glancing at the couple that entered. "She's all iced up but look at how her husband is interacting with the waitress."

"You can tell just by that?" he asked.

"I'm guessing they're regulars here and the waitress is one of those he is having an extramarital affair with just judging by the way she looked at him and how she's being all cozy with him." You chuckled. "Ah, now Mrs. X is unhappy. Pretty and bejeweled but very unhappy."

"What about that man there?" He mimicked the way you looked at the couple earlier, this time referring to that one by the glass walls at the corner.

"Oh that one? He's that demanding type who only wants to sit on his usual spot. He's hypochondriac. He's been wiping all the silverware."

Sukuna was obviously amused. "You observe people like this all the time?"

"I aspire to be a novelist if not a literature professor. I watch people to come up with stories, so it doesn't always mean what I'm saying about them is true. I just make it up as I go." You laughed. "But Suguru is a better writer than I am."

"Is he now?"

You nodded, eyes scanning the area. "That old lady is a rich widow who is keeping tradition alive."

He followed your line of vision. "Because she's wearing traditional garb?"

You shook your head. "Because she is alone with that sorrowful look on her face, and she has an extra serving of a meal across her which had been untouched since she ordered in. She's on a date with her dead husband. The empty seat is for him. It's their anniversary." You cocked your head towards the empty chair. "She placed that blazer on the backrest which is obviously not hers, and she just opened a wrapped-up present and made a show of presenting it to whoever should be seated there. Looked like men’s watch to me."

That same old woman stood by your table later in the evening to say, "You are a lovely couple. Cherish each other." And she also paid for a bottle of expensive wine which Sukuna asked to be wrapped for the two of you to take home.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he said as he drove you back to his place.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. "She was right, too," you murmured.

He blinked then looked at you. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

If you were impressed with the Porsche, his place was even more amazing. The whole place was in scales of black, white and gray but nothing was monotonous about the space. He toured you around the house and it looked uninhabited if it weren't for the signs of life around. But what caught your eye was the shelf full of music, all in vinyl with his gramophone plugged in to a modern sound system. He liked old stuff, his collection ranging from 1903s music to more modern ones here and there.

His living room was strategically placed by the glass walls, providing a view of the cityscape where you found yourself standing, in awe of the sights before you. Just then, the familiar bars of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" started playing in the background.

You were about to whirl around, but you felt him behind you, wrapping his arm around you as he made you face him. He extended a hand towards you then. You took it without hesitation although you didn't know what he was up to, surprised when he placed your arms on his shoulder while he held onto your waist.

"Dance with me," he said in a low tone as he pulled you closer.

You giggled at that, letting him slowly sway you to the beat while you just looked up at him, drowning in his eyes, his warmth and everything that was him. "I love this song."

He arched a brow at you. "You know Ben E. King?"

"I grew up listening to old music," you told him, nodding as you smiled fondly. "The perks of being a grandpa's girl. You get exposed to great music."

"The movie is my favorite, too."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

He threw his head back in mock annoyance. "Let me guess. It's your favorite, too?"

"Yes!" you squealed excitedly.

Sukuna clucked his tongue. "You make it hard for me to resist you when you have great music and movie tastes, too."

You looked away, swearing you were beet red now. You playfully smacked him on the chest. "Don't say things like that with a straight face."

His laughter reverberated on his chest when you leaned your forehead against it, hiding your face from him. "Now, you're getting all shy around me?" he teased.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pouting at him but having a hard time as you fought the smile that played at the corners of your mouth.

"Seriously though, Y/N, you don't run out of surprises for me." He leaned his forehead against yours. "Every time, you put something new on the list of things I like about you."

"You have a list?"

He nodded. "It's getting hard to keep up with how long it has become."

"Where does it begin?" you asked out of curiosity.

He raised a hand, his finger tracing the point between your eyebrows. "Your brows furrow just around here when you're concentrating. Just like that time I met you at Maki's."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It's impressive how you're caught in a world of your own even in such a busy, crowded place."

"I’m just good at ignoring people. But stopped reading the moment you sat beside me." You snickered. "You make it hard to focus, it's an insult to the author when her characters are all beyond just interesting."

"How was I even distracting you? You weren’t even looking at me."

"That's what you thought." You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's your hair at first, but then you also smelled too good to be true. That did it for me. And before I knew it, every word on the page I was reading became Cyrillic or something."

You didn't even realize that you've both come to a standstill, chuckling as you met his gaze again, only to feel his hand sliding behind your head, his fingers tangling with your hair as he dipped down and seized your lips, tilting his head slightly. It was a gentle kiss, his skilled lips light on yours, introducing his rhythm and flavor of mint mixed with the faint flavor of the wine you've both been drinking as you moved in sync with him.

It drove you crazy how his scent and taste filled every crevice of your being, desensitizing you while also pushing your senses on overdrive at the same time. The feel of his large hands as they secured you to him while his mouth did all the magic made your blood grow hot, the rush you felt inside consuming you. You visibly wobbled when he let go of you, making him look at you in amusement.

"Stay the night?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "I have a copy of our favorite movie. We can finish the wine that kind old lady gave us, and I'll make you pizza."

"You had me at our favorite movie," you said, still a bit dazed and drunk from the taste of him. "I'll stay."

**

Sukuna stood at the foot of his bed as he neatly placed everything you might need on it, running out of his unit to get stuff for you at the nearby convenience store. He glanced over at the door of the adjoining shower, smiling when he heard you humming. Well, he couldn't stop smiling all night seeing how beautiful you were in that black dress. He marveled at how you managed to be even more gorgeous when you were already driving him insane even when you wore sweats to school.

He found beauty in every little thing you did, feeling himself being overwhelmed with amazement even when you were just sitting there reading to how you spoke eloquently about things you were passionate about, the way you told the stories you made up despite how they leaned towards sad things. He found it attractive how you lacked complications and always gave him your honest opinions, how you tell him what was going on inside your mind without bars held.

He loved how kind and loving you are to your friends. It wasn't outward affection but he did notice the small things you did. How one word – "breathe" – would calm Satoru down, how one reassuring squeeze of the hand would pacify Ieiri and how a single look would convey your thoughts to Suguru. He would be jealous of it given any other circumstances, but you did so much more for him by just smiling and cheering him up when you sensed how tired he was from work which was often.

You were sensitive like that, appeared stronger and more resilient than you looked, but he and your friends couldn't help it but dote on you. It was kinda funny how they all referred to you as their daughter at first but when he found out they were doing that because they're the only family you had, he understood why. He understood why you tended to look at things the way you did. It only strengthened his urge to take care of you and protect you at all costs.

“Don’t give me that look,” you’ve told him then when he found out your grandfather, your only guardian and family, passed away three years ago, and you’ve only been living on the small fortune he bequeathed to you upon his death. Your parents were long dead, too, and you were basically alone in life.

He found it amazing that you could talk about the matter without being uncomfortable when he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be if he lost his mother at his age. He understood your independent nature, how you would give him funny looks whenever he volunteered to do something for you and why you were always so insistent on splitting the bill when you went out.

Still, when you said you didn't date steadily, it got him worried. Apart from the possibility that you might not stay with him for as long as he imagined – which made him afraid to breathe at times – he thought you might have issues from being alone too much; that maybe, the reason why you didn’t want to commit was because you didn’t want to open up only to be left alone again when things don’t work out. The way you spoke about the old woman at the restaurant and the way sadness crossed your features as you told him the story you’ve just made up sort of solidified his notions.

That’s exactly the reason why he was happy you weren’t pushing him away or refusing to stay with him. When you said you’ll stay the night, although he found joy in all the times you’ve been around him, he still felt unbelievably happy. Perhaps you were giving him a chance, giving whatever it is that’s between you the opportunity to blossom and just going with wherever and whatever it brings you. He liked that thought.

You came out of his room just as he was taking out the pizza he made, dressed in that oversized, white shirt he brought out for you, the collar askew on your shoulders. You walked into the kitchen running a towel on your hair, leaning on the counter. He almost dropped the pizza when he saw that you’ve forgone the sweats he’d given you, your legs bare from halfway down your thighs.

“I gave you pants, you know.”

You laughed at his words. “They’re too big for me. I returned them in your closet.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be finished here in a bit.”

You did as you were told, much to his relief but still went to the extent of getting you a blanket in case you wanted to cover up, not that he minded looking at your legs. Nevertheless, he preferred not to with all the thoughts running amok in his head. He wanted to take things slow with you even if you were proving to be his kryptonite. You thanked him for it, happily munching on the pizza he made as the movie started.

“I can’t believe that woman gave us this expensive wine,” you said as you took a sip from your glass.

“I can’t believe we’re having pizza with it,” he said as he sat at the other end of the couch. The two of you laughed at that, but then he stopped when you did, noticing how you were looking at him with a confused look on your face. “What is it?”

“Why are sitting so far away from me?” you demanded, but instead of him moving towards you, you crawled on the sofa closer to him.

Sukuna reveled in how naturally you took his arm and placed it on your shoulder, leaning against him before adjusting your position and covering the two of you with the blanket. He was glad your guard was down where he was concerned, the fact that you smelled like his shampoo and were wearing his clothes making him all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulled you closer to him, eyes trained on his massive flat screen.

“Sukuna…” you said a few moments later.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re too stiff.” You looked up at him, snickering. “I won’t steal your virtue if that’s what you’re scared of.”

He just laughed but it was taking everything he had in him not to do anything when you were tempting him in the most sinful ways, but he forgot all about that when your head lolled against his chest and found you sound asleep. You looked so serene that instead of taking you to bed, he sat there, cradling your form until the movie finished, his fingers playing with your hair.

Sukuna looked down at you, feeling like his chest was about to explode as he breathed in, realizing the depth of how much he felt for you, and although you couldn’t hear it, he said, “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

***

The crisp morning air blew past the open balcony doors, into the bedroom, rustling the white sheets on his bed that momentarily served as the sanctuary of a tangle of limbs and blankets, cradled by the softness of the mattress and feather-filled pillows. Even breaths rose and fell in sync, filling the wide room. Languid fingers twined with the silkiness of long locks of hair and smooth, bare skin. The bed creaks and Sukuna’s eyes open to the brightness of daylight.

He took in his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was the pressure on his leg, his left arm just by his shoulder and his chest along with the warmth that was coming from his side. His eyes wandered down to his body to the sheets barely reaching his waist, until finally he found the source of it all.

On his left side was none other than you, pressed to his side with no quantifiable distance separating your bodies but the measly fabric of the shirt you wore. Your hair fell on the pillows and his shoulder which was cushioning your head, your leg crooked across his thighs while your hand lay on his chest in a stagnant caress that suddenly made his whole body burn from the inside. Peering down, he noticed how your brows knit together in an unconscious frown while your thick lashes cast shadows below your closed eyes. Your long, lean legs were exposed to him up to your milky thighs as his shirt which you were wearing rode up, and he could only pray that you won’t move that limb any further or else…

Cursing at himself, he diverted his gaze and realized how his left hand had been running up and down your back. The feel of your warmth against the pads of his fingers sent him to the edge while your scent intoxicated him until he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was being shallow, but he couldn’t help it either. He was still human. Still, a smile made its way across his mouth. He was only able to think of the moment and how he wished to wake up to it every single morning of his existence. He decided to stay still and hold onto it while it lasted.

“Why are you so pretty?” he whispered, then pulled you closer while he closed his eyes, meaning to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he felt you stir against him, your leg moving upwards. In the process, said limb swept higher, touching that particular spot between his legs. The weight of your leg didn’t help with the carnal thoughts that were already running amok in his mind.

You suddenly moved, groaning as you shifted, the drawn-out sound doing things to him.

Sukuna’s eyes remained shut, fearing what might come next after you discover the compromising position you were in, but it didn’t come. Instead, you just very slightly distanced yourself from him, remaining within reach, but he was startled when he suddenly felt cold fingers brush across the skin just below his lower lip.

“If I were an artists, I would have painted you,” you said quietly while your fingers travelled lower. “Just look at that jaw line.”

Sukuna felt himself shiver when your other hand began working its way from his collarbones, going all the way down to where his chiseled stomach was. The titillating sensation filled his brain and before he knew it, his eyes were half open while his hand had already grabbed you by the wrist. His other arm worked to topple you over, back to the comfort of the pillows, while he rolled on top of you, staying still while completely rendering you motionless by pinning your arm down.

The reverberation of your chest against his whilst you chuckled albeit his weight sent him to the edge, almost falling off, but he held still and stopped himself from doing anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you whispered, tapping his back slightly.

He wondered whether you liked being there with him, too, or what. “L/N Y/N…What’s with the formality?” What, indeed? The two of you were in a very intimate position and yet he addressed you that way, sounding agonized even to himself. “Don’t do that.”

You scoffed good-naturedly. “Am I giving you strange feelings?” you questioned, ridiculing him early in the morning. “I knew you were pretending to be asleep. Men just can’t say no to a woman’s touch, huh?”

He supported his weight with his arm and drew himself up, the rest of his weight pushing down lower against you. He smirked then. “So you were also awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me hold you anyway?” he murmured, his face almost closing in on yours.

You ignored the tone in which he spoke and its implications. “I was just too lazy to move. Besides, I thought you were a pillow. You’re so warm.”

“That sounds fishy, Y/N.”

“And what’s fishy about that?”

He broke into that crooked grin, feeling his evil streak resurfacing. “Hmm. The fact that you’re liking this as much as I am.”

You removed your hand from his grip and lightly slid it down his inked rib, going lower as you traced the patterns of his tattoo, your eyes remaining on him, a sultry smile swathed across your lips.

A moan nearly escaped his parted mouth, but he wasn’t able to hold back the sudden closing of his eyes and slight parting of his mouth as your hand reached halfway down. “S-stop…”

Your hand stopped where his pelvis was, but your fingers continued to draw circles on his skin. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Sukuna panted and nodded at you feeling his hot blood rushing southward.

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, your eyes widening a bit in amusement while your leg kicked faintly underneath him, feeling something stiffen against your thigh. “Something else tells me you don’t,” you purred into his ear.

Sukuna bit his lower lip, peeking at you through half-lidded eyes. He knew you felt that and he was getting embarrassed with every second he stayed there. He knew your effect on him and you were more than just aware of it. You were even going to the extent of toying with him, making him feel like a goddamn teenager with raging hormones.

“You’re baiting me,” he played along, brushing your hair off of your neck and twirling the strands with his finger.

You smirked. “Am I?” you said slowly, hand sliding on the garter of his sweats. You withdrew your hand and rolled the two of you over despite his weight, turning tables on him. You touched the tip of his nose, taking in the disappointed look on his face all to your amusement before getting off.

“You’re funny, Sukuna.”

Your leg wasn’t even halfway off of him from where you were sitting astride his torso when Sukuna decided he was going to take his chances with making you succumb to him somehow and he finalized that by stopping you. Grabbing your waist, he rolled you over once more and without second thoughts, dipped his mouth against your, just pecking you on the mouth at first to see what you would do.

Too stunned to react, you were only able to stare at him, but Sukuna didn’t just stop there. He pressed his mouth against your sensuous lips in numerous fleeting touches until he felt you respond to it in the same gentle manner. Those small gestures, along with the closing of your eyes, ignited the fire that had been coursing through him until he thought he would explode if he didn’t comfort himself with the feel of you against him.

Unable to hold back anymore, he crashed your lips together in an urgent, scorching and passionate kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. You responded in kind, possessively holding onto his taut shoulders as he lifted you both in a sitting position so you were kneeling astride his lap. Sukuna pushed his fingers into your hair, holding you against him while his mouth moved downwards to your neck, seductively biting on your collarbone, marking his trail of fire up the columns of your throat before returning to your mouth.

Opposite to his aim to escalate the heat and passion, you placed both of your hands on either side of his head, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands and pulled away slightly, still with your foreheads against each other, hands intact on his shoulders and your waist, both panting for air.

You flashed him an apologetic smile, swallowing hard as you pulled back and sat down on the bed, looking down at your hands which you were wringing. Silence fell over the room and when you came to your senses again, you met his gaze.

His eyes rounded at the realization of what he just did. “I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “Sukuna, I…I shouldn’t have…”

He smiled at you then and pulled you close, giving you a soft peck on the forehead, eventually taking you into his arms, soothing your back as he embraced you. “That’s not it, sweetheart. I can’t keep my hands to myself even when you’re not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looked at you at arm’s length. “Don’t be.” You diverted your gaze, but Sukuna lifted your head with a finger, making you look at him, holding you in his gaze “I’m willing to take it slow if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Look, I just want to be sure about how I feel. I don’t want to be doing this half-baked because I don’t want to hurt you –”

He placed a finger against your lips, still raw from his kisses. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say just yet but he smiled slowly at you. “I’m willing to give you time, and for now, I just want us to stay like this. Is that okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

You found yourselves lying in bed until the sun was high in the sky and it was just too warm to stay there. Endless talks led to teasing which eventually led to laughter. He was glad that you were back to your carefree self again, even happier that you were considering his feelings.

“Should we get something to eat?” you suggested to him.

“Are you hungry?” Sukuna asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Sukuna chuckled. “Starving.” He stood up first and pulled you with him, leading you out of the room with a happy grin on his face. “Let’s make breakfast together?”

“Sure…” You beamed at him. “I’d like that.”

-end of part 2-

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210623]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.