#sorry for being less active in the upcoming days! i’ll still keep an eye out for asks tho✨

[chuluoyi]

eeep gonna be busy this week bc i’m going on a company retreat until the weekend😭 next in my list is nanami’s happy marriage for 1k event and pls make do with this for now:

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

•When You Fall Asleep On Them w/ Oikawa, Kenma, Atsumu, Terushima, and Tendou•

warnings: a few curse words

genre: fluff

characters: oikawa, kenma, atsumu, terushima, + tendou

•Oikawa•

your exhaustion was clear on your face as you slumped down against the wall of the gym, settiling your tired body on the floor

you loved the seijoh boys to death but they really wore you out sometimes

to be fair, they weren’t so bad most days you guys had practice

but every so often they had you so drained by the end of the day you could barely keep your eyes open, like today for example

“Y/N-chan!”

you recognized the sweet voice meeting your ears but to acknowledge it would require energy you just didn’t have

oikawa slid down beside you, hair still damp after rinsing off his post practice sweat

he knew how exhausting everyone could be and honestly he was surprise that you hadn’t quit the position, but he was glad you decided to stick around for so long

an arm snaked its way around your shoulder before giving your arm a few gentle rubs,

“I think everyone worked really hard today, don’t you?”

to tired to respond, you opted for a simple nod before leaning your head on oikawa’s shoulder

he was suprised at first, not really used to this side of you, but a smile found it’s way onto his face as he felt your warmth slowly take over him

eventually, your breaths slow to a steady rhythm, signaling to oikawa that you finally stopped trying to fight the exhaustion that had plagued you

he maneuvered your figure so that you were lying in his lap, eyes fluttering ever so slightly as you subconsciously allowed yourself to adjust to the lighting change

affection was the only thing written on the boy’s face as he watched soft breaths flow in and out of your parted lips

a few moments later, the rest of the team started filing out of the gym, confusion quickly filling the air as oikawa smiled down at your sleeping form

iwaizumi seemed the most agitated with this development,

“What the hell did you do to them, shitty-kawa?”

“Hm? Me? I didn’t do anything at all. If you wanna put the blame on someone it should be on all of you, poor y/n-chan has to deal with so much.”

“Cut the crap, they have to deal with your sorry ass the most.”

a light laugh escaped his lips before he peered down at you once more, brushing stray hairs away from your forehead

“I guess you’re right, in that case i’ll lock up and walk them home when they wake up. I wanna let them rest a little while longer.”

iwaizumi sighed and reluctantly threw him the keys to the gym before leaving with the rest of the team

as soon as the door to the gym was shut, oikawa took a quick glance around to make sure there was no one remaining before leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead 

he knew that tomorrow he would never hear the end of this, but in that moment he couldn’t care less, he was happy just being there with you

•Kenma•

you loved spending saturdays playing video games with kenma, it was your favorite activity to do after such a long and stressful week

even so, by the end of the week you were drained, and sometimes you got sleepy

especially when kenma began playing a more lowkey game and his sighs of frustration and mumbled strings of curses became absent 

silence tended to fall over the room when that was the case, causing your brain to shut down faster then you wanted it to

you sat next to kenma and peered over at his switch, watching with lidded eyes as his character moved about the screen

the colors began to swirl together as you were dragged deeper into sleep

kenma was too focused on the task at hand to notice your sleepy state, let alone the way your head fell ever so gently on his shoulder

after a while he returned his character home and paused the game, handing the switch to you,

“Here Y/N, it’s your turn.”

still feeling the device heavy in his hands he peered down at your sleeping figure, just now realizing why the atmosphere seemed quieter then usual

he froze and a soft blush crept on his face before he set the switch aside

you had fallen asleep on these days before but never so close to him and now he had no idea what to do

he didnt want you to be uncomfortable but he also didnt want to risk waking you up and ruining your much needed sleep

eventually his body moved for him as he crossed one leg under the other and gently moved you so that you were lying down on his thigh

he scrolled through his phone while you slept, mindlessly running his fingers through your hair as his eyes danced along his screen

he knew when you woke there would be a string of apologize falling out of your mouth but he didn’t mind the soft snores that escaped your lips 

besides, the two of you had the rest of your lives to play video games together

all he cared about in that moment was that you were taken care of

•Atsumu•

you and atsumu had ate lunch on the roof every friday since the two of you had become friends in middle school

it was a long standing tradition, one that the two of never missed no matter the circumstances

it was peacful, no one else but your friends ever knew so the two of you were never bothered

and it was always a nice way to relax and enjoy each other’s company without having to worry about the twin’s fighting, kita lecturing you about table manners, or suna just being a plain instigator

the two of you typically spent the period laughing and conversing but that particular friday, you lacked the energy to even keep your eyes open, let alone act so lively

your exhaustion was plain to see and definitely gave atsumu some room to poke fun at you,

“Sleepy, aren’t we Y/N? I mean, I can see your under eye bags from here.”

you angrily mumbled something under your breath at the statement before rubbing your eyes in attempt to wake yourself up more

atsumu ruffled your hair and laughed at your antics, throwing a few more snarky comments at you

he returned to his lunch soon enough, continuing the story he was previously retelling before you could throw a fit from your lack of sleep

as he was reaching the end of his tale, he felt his legs being tugged at, jumping a bit at first before he realized your hand was the one attached to his ankle

“Whatcha doin there Y/N?”

you ignored his question, choosing to pull his legs until they were lying straight and settling yourself down to lie in his lap instead

“Tsumu, wake me up before we have to get to class, please.”

as you began to slip out of consciousnesses, atsumu felt his eyes begin to water

if anyone else saw him, they would’ve made fun of him but he couldn’t help himself, he felt so happy that you trusted him enough to be this vulnerable around him

he knew he could be a pain in the ass sometimes but he never felt like a bother when he was around you, you loved him for who he was

it was a miracle you had remained friends with him for so long but as long as you did, he would do his best to make sure that pretty smile always returned to your face

before he could wake you up with his cries, he cleared his throat and began to softly rub your back and he stared out among the trees,

“No problem Y/N, you can count on me.”

•Terushima•

you had practically got on your hands and knees and begged terushima to help you study for your upcoming exam

he was one of the smartest people you knew and with how awful you were with the subject the test was on, it would’ve be a crime not to ask him for help

luckily for you, when you timidly asked for his help, he agreed to take some time out of his day to tutor you this week

which is why you felt awful once your thoughts beginning to haze and your eyes began to grow heavy

you couldn't even pay attention to the anxiety that had previously been gnawing away at you, let alone whatever the hell terushima was going on about

in your defense, school was absolutely exhausting today and you didn’t expect yourself to be this out of it by the time you arrived at terushima’s house

he noticed your fatigue right away, he way your head swayed back and forth as if you were in a daze was hard to miss

his first instinct was to laugh at how adorable you were but he chose to take a more gentle approach to the situation,

“You alright there, baby? We can take a break if you need one.”

you shook your head and gripped your pencil tighter, trying your best to copy down notes without falling face first into your text book

he smirked and playfully rolled his eyes before sliding more notes in your direction, 

“Suit yourself.”

not even ten minutes after you expressed your determination to the boy, terushima felt a weight fall onto his shoulder

he let out a chuckle at your unconscious state, knowing that this was soon to come 

he wrapping an arm around your shoulder and carefully pulled you down onto the bedroom floor with him, comfortably repositioning you 

in this new position, your head was on his chest, one of his arms wrapped around your torso while the other sat comfortably behind his head

“If you were tired, you could have just told me.”

although he knew you could hear him, the words left his mouth in a whisper before pulling you close and closing his own eyes

in all honesty, he didn’t mind this series of events, just happy to have you here with him

and besides, this gave him an excuse to schedule another study date

•Tendou•

carnivals and fairs came to your town quite often and every time they did, tendou loved to bring you along

the two of you had loved to go ever since you were little kids so the memories it brought back was enough of a reason to blow your money on tickets and food

it was a chance of the two of you to forget about any worry or zees and just let yourself be kids again

and to tendou, it was always worth seeing the smile on your face as you glanced around at the scenery, eyes gleaming under the flashing lights

as much fun as they were, he knew how much they tired you out 

every time the two of you ran off to one, he always ended up taking you inside at the end of the night and helping you through your nightly routine, but he didn’t mind this in the slightest

he was happy to help and besides, you were the clingiest when you were on the brink of sleep, which he found absolutely adorable

“Y/N, did you have fun tonight, hm?”

he took a glimpse of you in the passenger seat before returning his eyes to the rode ahead, one hand on the steering wheel and the other settled comfortably on your leg

mind clouded with sleep, you took the hand that sat on your knee and held it in yours, examining the polish you had painted on them earlier that week through blurry vision,

“Mhm.”

tendou took another glance at you before grinning at your tired state,

“I’m glad, i had lots of fun too! We’ll have to bring Ushiwaka next time, he’s never been to one of those-“

before he could finish his sentence, he felt his hand being hugged to your chest

turning his head to the side once more, he realized you had curled up on the passenger seat and were now fast asleep, cuddling his arm as if it was a stuffed animal

a laugh escaped his lips at how quick you were to drift off to your dream land

as his eyes focused on the dimly lit pavement, he admired how sweet your display of affection was, feeling your love spread throughout his entire body

he slowed his speed, careful not to hit any bumps or holes on the way home in fear of waking you

once the two of you got to his house, he gently carried picked you up and carried you inside, setting you on his bed as soon as he stepped though the door

before he could grab a blanket and head to the couch, your arms found their way around his torso as you buried your face into his chest before drifting back into your deep sleep

a smile spread across his face before placed a kiss on the top of your head and carefully lying down next to you, allowing himself to close his eyes and enjoy this moment with you

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[kodzukyan]

two hearts, four broken pieces (now we’re unbreakable)

notes: happiest belated birthday to my grand king <3 lots of (long?) dialogue, long talks at the beach, kinda clunky, but i hope you enjoy :> song accompaniment recommendation: unbreakable by lauren dyson (carole & tuesday) & everything i need by skylar grey! also posted on ao3.

summary: you were there like the air when i felt like i was underwater. AU in which you have matching birthmarks on your heart as your soulmate. - oikawa/oc

wc: 6.2k

The clock ticks continually as you finish reviewing the club budget for the upcoming school year. As the last rays of the sun begin to dim into a darkening blue, the clock rings loudly, signaling the end of club activities. The other student council members routinely leave by five, and after a quick goodbye and wave, two hours pass by without you knowing. You glance at your watch, and you sigh softly as you see the shorthand reach seven.

There are still numbers that do not add up, but you suppose that has to wait. Getting up to stretch, you automatically head to the keys cabinet to see which keys are still missing. As usual, the keys to the volleyball gym have yet to be returned.

Like any other day, you sigh again. This is a rather normal occurrence as the volleyball team tends to stay as late as you do. Normally, you don't mind since it’s not a big deal - you’re usually still here to lock up after they leave. Today, however, you’re rather exhausted and would like to finish up your report and just go home. Putting on your white blazer and patting down the wrinkles of your tan skirt, you make certain you’re presentable before you head out of the room and towards the volleyball gym.

A resounding smack reverberates through the air before you even enter the gym. You knock twice on the gym doors, and when there is no answer, you open the doors soundlessly and enter the gym. The gym is unoccupied except for one lone player, making the echoes of each movement louder. 

He doesn’t notice you, and as you see him jump to hit a serve, you are in awe by the strength and impact of it as it lands. It astonishes you a little to discover the normally flirty eyes and teasing smiles with such intense concentration and seriousness. When you see a faint smile on his face as his serve lands within the lines of the court, you wonder if this is what he really is like. As he recovers another ball to try again, you clear your throat. This time, you catch his attention, somewhat.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan! You don’t have to wait for me. I’m almost done!” he calls out, eyes never leaving the court.

“Sorry, Oikawa-san. I am not Iwaizumi-san. While I do have to say I am extremely impressed with your tenacity, I am afraid it's late and time for you to go home,” you say politely with a perfectly practiced smile on your face.

The ball he tossed into the air previously drops straight down onto the floor and bounces as he hears your voice. He jerks his head towards you, and you almost want to laugh when you see his gaping mouth.

“Oh, Pres-chan! I wasn’t expecting you!” he recovers swiftly, a hand behind his head and his tongue sticking out humorously.

Ah, he’s back to his normal self.

“Apologies again,” you nod, a courteous smile never leaving your face, despite your slight disdain for your new nickname. You’ve learned it is easiest to deal with people with a perfect smile, lips upturned slightly at a 45-degree angle and eyes crinkled together lightly.

He stares at you intensely as you smile. While his eyes are analytical enough to press anyone under, it doesn’t bother you because you are used to such scrutiny.

“I’ll pack up! Pres-chan, wait for me! I’ll walk you home since it’s so late.” He finally softens in his stares and begins picking up the balls around the court.

“No need to worry about me, Oikawa-san. There are still some matters for me to finish up at the student council room,” you assure him courteously despite your mild annoyance at your stray strand of hair that fell out of your neat ponytail as you tuck it behind your ear.

“No, no! I insist! It’s so late, so it’s dangerous for cute girls like you, Pres-chan!” he protests as he continues cleaning.

You begin assisting him to pick up the balls and grab the mops to clean up the gym. The more hands there are, the faster you two get to leave. After cleaning up the gym and returning the keys to the student council room, you continue to decline his offer of walking you home. Being around him for a little less than 30 minutes has already tired you, but you find it more draining to talk him out of it so you just relent.

He accompanies you back to your house at your pace, constantly filling the silence with some sort of conversation. He seems to recognize your need for distance, so he keeps the conversation light, never diving in deeper than what you are willing to give. You respond as amiable as you could with this surface-level sort of conversation. This is comfortable, this is straightforward, this is not about who you are, so you find it easy to keep up your practiced smile and pleasantry. 

For what it’s worth, you can understand why he’s so popular. He’s attractive, and his personality is tolerable enough. But something about him is slightly unpleasant to you. You have an inkling of what it is, but you’re not ready to open the tightly sealed jar of emotions yet.

When you reach your stop and he bids you goodbye, you find yourself face to face with your cousin, who just squeals and questions you.

“Who is he?” she exclaims loudly, far too energetic for so late at night. “What if he is your soulmate?!”

You smile tersely, “He is just a classmate.”

She only looks at you in confusion. “Eh? You never know! Did you already see his mark?”

You flash her a practiced smile as you excuse yourself.

“No, I was born without one.” 

---

You like routine. This is something you’ve established for as long as you remember. If things are set in place, set in stone, then they are less likely to fall apart, to break.

So when walking home with Oikawa Tooru stays as a recurring part of your days, it makes you uneasy.

This is not part of your normal routine. But you suppose him returning the volleyball gym keys instead of you wrestling him for them is also not part of your normal routine.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re kind of dumb."

You finally look up from your papers. Your pen still in hand, eyes in disbelief, and voice laced with venom as you hiss, “Excuse me?”

“Pres-chan, even I know when to stop. It's nearly 8 in the evening. Your body needs rest so you can function as efficiently as you always want to,” he rolls his eyes as he air-quotes the word efficiently. The volleyball gym keys jingle in his hand as he does so, and the sound of it aggravates your headache.

"This is coming from the one who stays behind two hours every day after club activity ends? Stop trying to preach what you don’t practice." Your grip on your pen tightens.

"I take Mondays off," he shrugs and offers a lopsided smile. There's a serious glint in his eyes despite his casual gestures.

You know he's right because the keys to the volleyball club always hang neatly and untouched every Monday. You know he's right when you finally let yourself feel the tiredness in your body. You know he's right when your headache finally catches up to you, but you simply cannot completely let go.

Maybe he sees your sagging shoulders and weary eyes, so he doesn't press the matter anymore. He hangs the clubroom keys in the cabinet before he walks over.

"You can rest, you know?"

You do, but you can't. Not when there are so many reports to fill out and papers to file, not when the club budgeting still isn't adding up, not when you have to be the you that your father created inside his head. Your brows cease together as your head throbs. Before you could respond, you feel a gentle pat on your head that brings you out of your thoughts.

"You're doing great, Pres-chan. Take a break," he speaks softly as he strokes your head.

You close your eyes at his touch, and you relish in his gentleness. For someone with such calloused hands, his touch is surprisingly tender. His voice sounds distant, and it feels like he's speaking past you, like he's speaking to whoever he sees in place of you. You think maybe this is what you needed anyways, this is what you want to hear even if he’s speaking to himself through you.

"Take a nap. I'll wake you up in 20 minutes," he ruffles your hair, messing up your perfectly tied ponytail.

You glance at him briefly, and his stupid smile irritates you. Maybe your headache is getting the better of you, maybe you’re just too tired, but you find yourself nodding as your shoulders finally drop in defeat. "10 minutes."

He laughs as he agrees, and when you finally lay your head down and close your eyes, you briefly feel the warmth of his jersey before you drift off.

When you wake, you find that Oikawa is sitting beside you, humming a soft tune as he scrolls on his phone. It takes you a moment to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and then it occurs to you that he never woke you up. Your eyes flutter to the clock, and when you see that it's a little past 9, you panic. You shoot instantly up from your seat, and your sudden movement leaves you dizzy as the world around you rapidly spins in color. Oikawa stops mid-hum as looks up from his phone before he secures your arm to steady you.

"Holy shit, I thought I told you to wake me up in 10 minutes. The papers need to be filed so we can work on the report due next week. I need to finish the reports, so I can turn them in on Friday. The budgeting excel -."

"Pres-chan." He cuts you off as he takes his hand off your arm and pokes your forehead. "I filed the papers on your desk. They go into their respective color-coded drawers, right? And the reports are just club updates, yeah? I arranged them by club type, so you can just sort through them later. Also, I put the volleyball club on top, so get to us first, okay?" he teases lightly and sticks his tongue out mischievously. "I didn't mess with your budgeting excel because it's not my place to, but don't you think you can ask your treasurer to explain their budgeting and money management so far?"

You blink at him in silence as you take in all the information he told you. You glance over at your desk and see the piles of loose paper gone. In place are new stacks of reports clipped together with the assortment of pastel paper clips you brought last month on a whim. Your surprise overtakes you as you let out a shaky breath. 

"Oh," you whisper, breath still quivering and voice slightly trembling. "Thank you."

You make a mental note to double-check everything again in the morning, just in case. That thought almost flies out of your head when you glance over, and the smile he flashes you is so bright you almost forget how to breathe.

"You're welcome."

When he accompanies you home that night, your steps feel a little lighter and your heart soars a little higher as you catch a glimpse of his profile, eyes fixated on the stars above as he tells you stories of constellations and aliens. 

---

While you’re not an avid volleyball fan, witnessing their defeat to Karasuno in such a close match, watching the light in their eyes dim into a quiet somber crush on your heart. When the match was over and they asked for the keys to the gym, you gave it to them without hesitation although the gym is supposed to be closed for cleaning later today.

Throughout the hours, you find yourself unable to completely focus on the paperwork in front of you. Your eyes keep trailing to the empty key slot where the gym keys are supposed to be, and your ears are fixated on each tick of the clock. Fidgeting with your pen, you finally give in and let out an uneven sigh when the clock rings eight. After smoothing out your skirt and blazer and retying your neat ponytail, you make your way to the gym.

As always, you knock on the doors before coming in. Only silence greets you.

The gym is vacant, and the cheering crowds and rest of the volleyball team members have long gone home after their spontaneous practice. Volleyballs are still scattered everywhere, the net is still up, but none of that matters as your eyes focus on the lone figure lingering in this solemn, almost crushing, silence.

His eyes are downcast, but you can tell from the hitching movement of his chest and the pooling puddle in his lap that he hasn't stopped crying. There is so much you want to tell him, but no words come to you. You’re not even sure if you’re in a position to say anything, but when you see him sitting there defeated and crying silently, a split image of yourself instead of him appears for a moment. The tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve repeatedly tried to suppress opens.

"You don't have to be perfect, you know?" you tell him softly.

He doesn't look up and only clenches his fists.

You pat the creases out of your skirt as you squat down, hands gently touching his before clasping them firmly. The words burn in the back of your throat as your eyes tear because you know. You know this feeling, this absolutely crushing feeling when all you have is taken away and you’re just left with nothing. Maybe you’re projecting your failures onto him, maybe this is just what you wanted to hear, but you tell him all the same.

"You're so much more than just your losses," you whisper with gentle firmness, "This is not the end. Not for you. Not for your volleyball."

His calloused hands only grip yours tightly as his silent tears fall and roll off your skin.

"You are not your failures."

You barely detect the sound of him letting out a deep breath, but he squeezes your hands. It may not be enough, it may not be okay, but it’s a start.

As the two of you sit in silence, you can merely laugh at yourself for ever thinking Oikawa Tooru was anywhere close to perfect. He is incredibly fragile, human, and unlike a star that you thought you could never reach, he is here beside you. He sniffles every so often, and when every so often becomes more often than not, you laugh lightly and offer him a tissue.

He accepts it with a sniffle, and as he blows his nose, you could only crinkle your nose.

“Ew, you’re gross,” you lightly poke fun at him.

“I was going to say thank you, but I take it back now,” he gasps dramatically.

You roll your eyes as you offer him the rest of your tissues. “It’s fine. I don’t need your thanks. Just… feel better.”

“Thank you,” he whispers anyway as he props his head on yours.

---

You hear three knocks, two fast knocks, a pause as if it’s left for drastic effects, before the third knock, in a familiar rhythm. Instantly, the wooden doors of the student council room open, and brown hair and honey-colored eyes peek in.

“Wanna do something fun with me, Pres-chan?” Oikawa asks, eyes brilliant and smile equally mischievous.

"... Depends on what it is," you raise an eyebrow at him as you look up from finishing some preparations for university. You've substantially given up trying to advise him to wait before barging into the student council room.

He wiggles his eyebrows before he grins. “Let’s go to the rooftop!"

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he said because while it’s not that crazy, the rooftop is off-limits to students. Subsequently, it occurs to you that out of your three years here, you've under no circumstances done anything remotely rebellious. The adrenaline hits you, so you snatch the keys to the rooftop before heading out the door.

"Alright, let's go."

He freezes before his mouth drops and gasps dramatically. "Heh, Pres-chan, looks like you really aren't that much of a good girl after all."

You roll your eyes at him, and a soft smile finds a way to your face before you walk out. "Hurry up, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Wait for me!!" You hear the scampering footsteps, and you swear you can hear his pout.

This is the first time you’ve ever been on the rooftop, you think, as you finally unlock the door and step out into the sun. It’s a little past seven, and you think the sun is going to set soon as it slowly fades behind the Miyagi skylines in bursts of orange. You close your eyes as the wind blows, almost as if it’s greeting you. You can see why people skip all the time to be up here. 

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Oikawa stands beside you as the wind tousles his hair and the sun kisses his skin. He looks radiant under the sunlight, and you merely hope he doesn’t hear the fluttering of your heart.

“Yeah,” you nod along, “I… I wish I came up here earlier.

Honey brown eyes so deep and warm, staring directly at you, and there is something that you’re terrified to name. You always thought love was something dramatic, once in a lifetime, and it just hits you like a train out of nowhere. With Oikawa Tooru, it feels more like learning to walk - steadily, one step after another, until he becomes a part of your natural routine.

You can see the longing and something akin to love in his eyes, but you know it's not love. You know when he loves, he loves with all his being. Right now, there is something, but it's not love because he sees not only you but also past you. He sees the light at the end of the tunnel, the future where he's standing on a volleyball court with his name on the back of a national team jersey. He sees the passion and the love he has for volleyball beyond you, and even when he's here in the moment, even when he likes you, he sees something greater.

Your heart clenches because you want it to be you, you want you, this to be enough. But you know he is meant for something so much greater. He is meant for the stage lights of an international court, living and thriving with so much passion and love for the sport he dedicates his life to. He is unmeant to be here, to be held back by something called love.

You try ignoring the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, try ignoring the way his eyes linger at your lips as if he wants to kiss you. You try ignoring your yearning heart when all you can hear in your head is him telling you he's going to Argentina.

“You’re going to do great in Argentina.” You swallow the lump in your throat and interlace your own fingers together to prevent yourself from reaching out and holding his hand.

He blinks, and slowly retracts his extended hand, and swallows the words he wants to tell you. “Oh, uhm,” he hesitates. “Geez, Pres-chan! Don’t make it sound like we’re never going to see each other again!” he pouts dramatically, voice creaking just ever so slightly and eyes lacking the playful glint in it. “We’ll see each other again.”

He sounds hesitant, almost as if he’s doubtful if he can uphold the words of a promise. He doesn’t deserve to be held back by a promise.

You let him go.

It’s funny because you don’t even think he is yours to let go, but you smile anyway as you catch his unfaltering eyes back on the sunset. He is the one who teaches you a little bit about being okay, the one who first opens the tightly sealed jar and lets a gale of fresh air into your world.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. Your hand finds its way to him, fingertips ghosting over his hand almost as if you didn’t just reject his moments ago.

The wind blows softly, and the blooming cherry blossoms flutter as he blinks in confusion before he smiles crookedly too. In a world where you are braver, you would have voiced the three words lingering on your mind instead of the two that came out, and your lips would have been on his instead of settling for a ghost of a touch of hands. But in this world, this is all you can do, all you can intend for.

Instead, the two of you continue to stand in silence, sharing this one last moment where he can stand on both legs without leaning to his left to accommodate for his right knee, where you can laugh in a loose smile and ruffled hair without feeling the need to fix them. It’s satisfactory, you tell yourself, this is enough.

While he may not be your soulmate, while you have no soulmate mark, it hurts all the same. Your heart still breaks as the falling sunlight fades into the deep indigo skies, as he waves goodnight, as you watch him go with the world on his shoulders and wings on his back. The hollowness in your chest aches, and you wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like.

---

“Funny, huh? Out of all the people in the world, out of all the places in the world, I end up meeting you on an Argentinian beach, thousands of miles away from home,” you stifle your laughter softly.

The hot summer wind blows into your unbound hair, bringing grains of sand and the scent of the ocean. The shore calls you, and you find yourself wiggling your toes in the clear waters. As you look to the horizon, you find that the crystalline waters contrast vividly against the soft pinks and oranges of the fading sun.  It’s so surreal, and it makes you momentarily forget that there are responsibilities, people waiting for you back at home. 

The faint rustling and the loud splash of water wake you from your trance, and you find Oikawa Tooru running into the waters carefreely. His pants are roughly rolled up just barely above the water level. His eyes are tender and his smile is wide as he holds his hand out to you.

“Come on, Pres-chan,” he gestures his hand in front of you again. “The water feels really nice!”

You take a moment to breathe because he looks beautiful with his brown eyes twinkling mischievously and lips upturned jovially and carefreely against the fleeting sunset. You smile once more, lips upturn softly instead of the traditional 45 degrees, as the last strands of your hair frees from your hair tie. 

You briefly remember being eighteen, standing on the rooftop of your high school. His hand is extended, but you were too afraid to take it, too afraid to become a burden. You blink once and think maybe this time, he should have a say in his own decisions instead of you selfishly making it for him. You take his hand, hesitantly and shyly, as you take your first steps into the water.

Time stills as your eyes meet his brown ones. He stares at you dumbfoundedly, and you are unsure if the pinks of his cheeks are from you or the sunset.

“You look happier,” he finally comments softly, “I’m glad.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him dumbfoundedly. Your hand covers a slight laugh that breaks from your lips. You take in his wind-tousled chestnut hair and eyes closed from his laughter, his muscular body that no longer tends to lean on his left side absentmindedly to protect his right knee, and you realize he is more genuine, more candid, more Oikawa Tooru than the one you’ve known since high school.

“You do too.”

”Wanna grab drinks after?” Oikawa asks nonchalantly as the two of you finally make your way out of the water and sit under the broad umbrella from the blazing sun. His long legs are stretched out as he leans back, hands propping him up.

Despite his relaxed posture and even voice, you see his fingers wiggling in the sand and the pinks peeking on his cheeks and the tip of his ears. It almost makes you laugh because you’re certain you can reckon on one hand how many times Oikawa Tooru seems so timid.

“I mean”- he continues, taking your silence as a declination, -“just as friends, to catch up, you know? How have you been? Oh! What about your cousin? Didn’t she -”

“Okay,” you laugh lightly. “I’d be happy to.”

“-Oh, now that I think about it, what did you end up doing- wait -” he pauses mid-sentence as he stares at you bewilderedly, ”-okay?”

“Yes,” you laugh again, much louder and without restraint. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats after you again.

“Yes, okay.” You nod.

The smile he gives you is so bright it outshines the sun.

---

"So, how are you?" he asks again once you're seated beside him, a beer in hand and dusk in view.

You offered a general answer earlier, and it started a train of small talk that never breaches past the surface. It reminds you of high school and leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. 

The beach in Argentina is always full of life, but it's quieter now. Maybe it's the fact that it's getting late or the fact that you're on your third beer already, all you can focus on is the man beside you.

Maybe you're more honest now too because he looks like he wants to ask more. (Like he asks “how are you?” when all his eyes are saying is “I love you.”)

"I threw my phone into the ocean and got in a screaming match with my dad," you tell him honestly.

You can feel his gaze on you as he lets out a soft hum to let you know he's listening. It used to unnerve you whenever he looks at you like that, whenever he makes you feel so transparent. Now, it makes you smile because he always makes you feel so seen.

"He told me to be all these things that I am not because he wanted me to have a good life. I know his intentions and know it makes him happy. But I was so fed up with just constantly not being enough for who he wanted me to be, so I told him I just wanted to be his daughter."

You don't realize your hands are shaking until you feel his hands on yours. He pulls the beer bottle out of your hands before he places them into his own and squeezes them.

"And what did he say?" he asks softly, recalling all the late nights and the mask you put on at school in the name of a shadow that always looms over you. He remembers the instant drop of your face whenever your father comes up, when the words duty and filial piety become a burden instead of pride on your shoulders.

"He just kinda stared at me and stopped talking. I think it didn't occur to him that this was a thought in my head. I cried a lot." You squeeze his hands back.

"Yeah, I'm glad you gave him a piece of your mind, though." His voice is gentle as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

"He cut me fruit after, so I think we're okay," you laugh awkwardly as you flash him a smile. "I think I'm okay."

He smiles too when he notices your smile is a lot freer now, that the corners of your lips are no longer locked in place and forced in front of fake pleasantries. Maybe he's freer now too, he thinks as he looks at the brightly lit skies, as he continues his volleyball journey, feeling so fulfilled despite being thousands of miles away from home. 

"I used to think I wasn't good enough," he starts honestly with a small laugh. "No matter how hard I work, I could never be enough compared to geniuses who just get it." 

“I used to think you were so put together when I initially met you, like the universe's spotlight was meant for you,” you hum. “Until I realized you were the reason why the volleyball gym keys were never returned on time.”

He laughs light-heartedly. “Hey, I had an image to keep up, okay?”

You tuck in your knees and prop your head on top of them, eyes never leaving his, hand still in his. “I think I realized you were a lot more reachable, human even, when I saw you broke down after losing to Karasuno our third year.”

“Are you deriving comfort in my pain? How rude!” He pouts. “But I somewhat get it. I used to think you were super snobby with your fake smiles and your super tight ponytail. I used to think you were going to be balding early!”

“You were the one who habitually had a hoard of fangirls around you, and nobody could get anyplace in the hallways!” You retort with a fond smile.

Memories of high school seem so long ago, and as you recall each one, you see the light in his eyes waning and waxing with the tides. The feelings you try so hard to bury, the ones you try to let go of the day he set off to Argentina bubble through your chest and flow onto your lips.

"I think I was too scared to love you," you finally whisper as the moon rises and the waves kiss the shore.

He stares at you and blinks once, twice, before he breathes a soft, “Oh.”

You finally take your eyes off him, hand finally wiggling its way out of his to encase yourself as you bury your face in your knees. “I wanted to be enough. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t for my dad, wasn’t for myself, wasn’t for you.”

He leans closer and brushes a strand of loose hair off your face. “You are always enough. For your dad, for yourself,” he pauses and smiles gently, “And you are more than enough for me.”

You peek at him through your lashes. The ocean waves drown out the sound of your heartbeat as he stares at you earnestly, eyes honest and lips so, so close.

“I didn’t want you to regret me,” you whisper, voice barely audible, “I didn’t want to be someone who holds you back from your dreams. I didn’t want to be just temporary until you find your soulmate.”

His eyes widen, but he persists steadily close. “I don’t think I could ever regret you. My dreams will always be the national court, but you being there, by my side, would be the best part of it.”

He takes a breath as he reaches for your hand, much like he did at the rooftop of your high school.

“I was born without a soulmate mark. Initially, I was so upset because I thought no one would love me unconditionally like a soulmate is supposed to. But honestly, fuck that. Fuck soulmates. Fuck some pre-destined person supposedly made for you because no one is. We are in control of our own fate, and we are in control of whom we choose to love. And I like you Pres-chan. I have since I was eighteen and dumb. I still like you now at twenty and still a little dumb. But no matter how old I am, how old I will be, it’s always you. I will always choose to love you.”

You breathe in sharply as you listen to his words, every sound and syllable clear as his eyes as he looks at you, only you. There is only truth in his words, and as your eyes wander from his to his hand and back to his eyes, the overwhelming amount of sincerity overwhelms you. 

Oikawa Tooru has always been dedicated in all that he does, and the thought that he is offering you that very same dedicated heart of his becomes a consuming warmth in your chest. The heat of your fluttering heart radiates off your cheeks, and the feeling that has been blossoming in your heart blooms into an indescribable softness and affection.

Love has perpetually been something out of reach, something you witness in movies and read in books, something you witness in your friends and cousin. But love is here now, in the form of Oikawa Tooru with his hands stretched out for you to take, with his heart bare and exposed for you to have.

“I was born without a soulmate mark too. I used to hate it because it felt like it was another thing I was lacking in. I wasn’t even enough to have a soulmate,” you breathe out, eyes on the ocean that reflects on the moonlight. The last bits of the tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve kept finally flows out.

“But if soulmates do exist, I would like to think they are made. Not in the sense that they are made for each other, because fuck destiny, but in the sense that we wake up every morning and choose who fits us and how they fit. And whatever this is we have between us, we forged it,” you start firmly as you place your hand in his, eyes meeting his. The last bit of bitterness flows into the sea, and the only thing that remains at the bottom of this jar is hope.

“I like you too, Oikawa. I have since I was eighteen and smart. I still do at twenty and moderately smarter but still trying to figure life out. And I don’t know what the future holds or even what I’m doing to do from here on, but I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you too. I can’t promise you the world or where our lives will lead from here onwards. What I can promise is I will choose you, from the moment I wake up until the moment I sleep, from now until the end of the ocean.”

A promise, his truth. While the unknown horrifies you, this is enough. You smile as you squeeze his hand. When he grins and squeezes your hand back, you think maybe love is irrevocably here to stay.

---

“What were you before you met me?” He takes one of your hands in his and uses his other in an attempt to tame your unconstrained hair against the wind. He pouts when he finds that your hair just blows wildly and gives up, but he smiles, nonetheless, when he hears your unrestrained laughter.

You shake your hair out of your face and turn to face him, hair blowing wildly and freely with the wind. You tear your eyes away from slow waves of the ocean, illuminated by the brilliant reds and oranges of the setting sun, and you find yourself more captivated by glowing brown eyes than you ever could by the dazzling colors of the horizon. 

You stare briefly at him, looking into his eyes and seeing his relentless soul, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter like they did the very first time, feeling absolutely starstruck. You hum softly as you turn back to the peaceful waves and remember the tight ponytails and painted smiles of your high school days. You remember the weight on your shoulders to become someone ideal and the heaviness on your heart to become a you that only lives to make your father proud.

“I think... I was drowning,” you answer almost inaudibly but honestly, both hands gripping his tightly as if you’re holding a lifeline.

He pauses for a moment before he squeezes your hands again. He whispers then, reluctantly and almost fearfully, “And what are you now?”

You turn to meet his eyes. You recall him at seventeen and feeling annoyed because he mirrored every bit of the pretense you put up in all the undesirable ways. But you see him now, twenty and free of the inferiority and limitations he places on himself, and you wonder if you also look older, wiser, happier because you are now the you you want to be.

You have always associated him with air because he is terrible and unpredictable, destructive and clear, focused and silent. But he is also comforting and calm, like an invisible force, who's consistently going and going, with unhindered sight. He is always persistently here and cannot be turned away, and before long, you find yourself not knowing what to do without it.

At the moment, you find the last bits of the riptides that pull you under the waters finally cease, and as you enjoy the scent of the salty ocean and hear the lull of the gentle waves, you think you can finally breathe freely and vivaciously.

Slowly, you take a hand to trace the outline of the miniature matching sun tattooed on his chest, where the soulmate mark is supposed to appear. You smile undoubtedly and wholeheartedly.

“Water.”

---

you’re what i need cause now i can breathe; you put the beat in my heart. somehow we fit together, and now we’re unbreakable. 

[grace-likes-things]

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k 

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her. 

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“ 

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves. 

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine. 

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“ 

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.” 

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down. 

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad. 

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question. 

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target. 

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible. 

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out. 

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place. 

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team. 

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings. 

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“ 

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls. 

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it. 

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard. 

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room. 

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!” 

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter. 

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.” 

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me. 

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open. 

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again, 

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until— 

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“ 

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.” 

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face. 

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet. 

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room. 

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either. 

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume. 

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel. 

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice. 

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all. 

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission. 

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

[k-llama-llama]

Madame

BTS AU: 8th member

Sumi x BTS

Despite how well they know her, Sumi still manages to surprise BTS

A/N: sorry this is so late! Check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive content. This post was available a month ago for those on my patreon.

Requests are OPEN.Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Do we have the rights to that song?” Sumi asked, leaning back in her chair.

“We’re working on it.” Namjoon told her.

“But we still have a lot of our own songs to work on in the meantime.” Yoongi pointed out. “So we don’t need to stress about it.”

“I’m not stressed. Who’s stressed?” Sumi smiled.

Namjoon turned back to the screen. They were in the middle of their big planning meeting for their upcoming album, trying to finalize the songs that were going to make the cut. Sumi hadn’t been very active in writing for the past few comebacks, so she was mostly just giving her two cents every few minutes and waiting until they moved onto the concept portion. 

“Are we going to order lunch?” Jin asked.

“Yes, please.” Jimin sighed. “I’m starving.”

“Do we want noodles?” Jin pulled out his phone.

“Salad for me, thanks.” Sumi winked. “I’m on a diet.”

“Really?” Taehyung looked her up and down. “You ate a whole pizza at movie night on Monday.”

“Your point?” Sumi rolled her eyes.

“Can we get back to the actual point of this meeting?” Namjoon asked.

“Right, sure.” Sumi gestured to the screen. “Songs. Let’s go.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?” He sighed.

“Maybe.” She glanced at the maknae. “Kookie, grape me.”

Jungkook tossed the grape with expert precision, and Sumi caught it in her mouth, giving him a wink.

“You’re being especially childish today.” Hobi shook his head.

“I learned from the best.” She grinned. “But seriously, Oppa, order lunch. Keep going with the meeting.”

She managed to keep herself mostly focused for the rest of the meeting, only breaking her concentration to catch the grapes Jungkook tossed her way behind Namjoon’s back. Even though she hadn’t participated in writing any of the songs, she was really excited for what was on the album. There were vocal parts that she was really excited about, and she was looking forward to a change in sound.

“Is that my sweater?” Taehyung asked.

Sumi glanced down at her outfit. She’d stolen the oversized cardigan from his closet when she’d visited the apartment, and paired it with a tight corduroy skirt. “Yeah? Look cute, right?”

“I think that’s a sign that we need a break.” Namjoon closed his laptop screen.

“Hyung, did you order lunch?” Jungkook asked Jin.

“It says twenty minutes until delivery.” Jin answered. “They probably had to go pick the vegetables because only a psychopath orders a salad from a noodle place.”

“You need to back off.” Sumi shook her head. “I just want to-“

A knock sounded at the door.

“Food’s early?” Hobi exclaimed.

“They wouldn’t come all the way up to this floor.” Namjoon pointed out. “Come in!”

A familiar face opened the door, hurrying right for Sumi.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting!” She exclaimed, holding out a phone. “It’s an emergency.”

“Is that one of our managers?” Jin whispered to Yoongi.

“Min-ji, Sumi’s assistant.” Yoongi replied.

“What’s wrong?” Sumi asked, sitting up in her chair.

Min-ji covered the receiver, speaking quickly. “The online retailer is saying that they’re owed 30% of the proceeds.”

“Bullshit.” Sumi exclaimed. “We signed a contract.”

“They’re saying that it wasn’t clear and so that-“

“Give me that.” Sumi snatched the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello. Who am I speaking to?”

“Lee Sumi. The CEO of the company you’re trying to scam.” She hissed into the receiver.

“Look ma’am, the contract didn’t explicitly state that –“

“It did. Do you have the contract in front of you?” She stood up.

“No, do you?”

“I’m about to.” She gestured at Namjoon’s laptop.

He slid the computer over and Min-ji started typing quickly, going through Sumi’s email.

“All we’re asking for is our fair share of-“

“You’re getting payed for your contribution to this launch, as stated on the contract we both signed. And then I’m sueing you, and then I’m never working with you again.”

“Sumi, this has been incredibly profitable for the both of us. It would be a shame to-“

“It’s about to be a lot less profitable for you, and it’s Miss Lee. We’re not friends.” She leaned close to look at the contract, and then glanced at Min-ji.

“Is this being recorded?” She mouthed.

Min-ji nodded.

Sumi smirked. “Alright. Well, I have the contract here and we’ve recorded this entire conversation where you attempted to violate our contract. You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

“Miss Lee!”

“Have a nice day.” Sumi hung up the phone.

“What a dick.” She rolled her eyes.

“They seemed sketch when we signed with them.” Min-ji sighed.

“But Bighit recommended them.” Sumi shook her head. “Start figuring out new retailers and get a statement on my desk as soon as possible. I’ll come by when I finish up here.”

“Alright, see you then.” Min-ji bowed, already holding her phone back up to her ear as she walked out of the room.

Sumi logged out of her email, closing the screen as she looked up.

The boys were all staring at her.

“What?” She asked.

“Miss Lee?” Jimin looked like he was trying not to laugh.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

“You have lawyers?” Namjoon asked.

“I’m about to.” She pulled out her phone. “That idiot should know better than to try and back out of a contract with me.”

“You’re actually going to sue him?” Jungkook asked, looking unsure.

Sumi shrugged. “If I have to. Urgh..30%, who is he kidding?”

“Is 30% a lot of money?” Yoongi asked.

“The original deal gave them 10.” Sumi explained. “Even I’m not making 30%. There’s production, marketing, I have to pay my employees…and I can’t do that if people are trying to cheat me out of my earnings.”

“Did your launch do well?” Hobi asked. “I mean…we know it was well-received, but did it do well in sales?”

Sumi nodded. “Sold out. And we’re working on a restock. And in the meantime we’re working on our next collection and some other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Jimin asked.

Sumi tilted her head. “Clothes. Perfume. Nothing’s set in stone yet but we’re looking at lots of options.”

“This is really turning into a serious company, isn’t it?” Jungkook seemed surprised.

“Of course.” Sumi slid Namjoon’s laptop back across the table. “I’m building something that’s going to last. It’s not just a spur of the moment thing.”

“Noona,” Taehyung playfully leaned his head onto her shoulder. “Can I collab with your company?”

“Don’t call me Noona.” She shoved him away. “And sure. Maybe. But no one is collabing with anyone until I get my lunch.”

“It’s a salad, it’s not lunch.” Jin shook his head. “It’s going beyond a diet, clearly I failed to raise you right if you’re eating salad by choice.”

Sumi crossed her arms. “I run my own company and I’m a global bestselling artist but you failed to raise me?”

“The food is more important.” Jin sighed. “When I come over for dinner next I’m making you something fatty and unhealthy.”

“Fine. But you get to deal with my mood swings after I eat it.”

“Nah, I leave that to your boyfriend.”

[whereisten]

ghouls just wanna have fun (A Creature Feature Story)

A Taeil fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After your date ends up being a dud, you stumbled upon an unusual movie theater and its most appealing visitor, Moon Taeil. 

Pairing: Ghost! Taeil x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, pinch of smut, drama, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: gore mention, death mention, smut: masturbation mention

(A/N: Hi! Special shoutout to the Creature Feature readers. I love you...It’s almost one year to the day that I posted Part 1 (I know: where the hell is the rest of it?). Rest assured, the series will continue in November. This Halloween series has gotten me out of my funk. I hope you enjoy this story. And to newcomers, welcome! This story can be read alone, if you'd like, but I think you’d enjoy this more if you read my Creature Feature updates! Anyways: SHOUTOUT TO MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME/WRITING KRYS. SHE CREATED ANOTHER SPECTACULAR MOODBOARD FOR ME. SHE’S MADE SEVERAL FOR ME. AND I AM SO SPOILED. HER BRILLIANT BRAIN AND VISION DESERVE ALL OF THE LOVE. SEND IT HER WAY. We hope you enjoy this installment and our upcoming posts! Thank you for all of the love in our stories so far!

___

“Jaebum, I’m not going. Let me off here,” you demanded.

Well, tonight was just fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Your date that your friends set you up with ended up being a bust. He wanted to take you to a house party so he can get high and you could be his side piece for the night. Your friends were all in committed relationships and they thought you were bummed because you felt single and bitter.

No, you were just bummed at the fact that your friends had blown you off too many times for their significant others. That was the actual problem.

But they were doing better with you, you had to admit. They spent more time with you as their honeymoon stages with their significant others had finally dwindled. The set-up was supposed to be for fun.

They even thought that this date could open doors for you.

Doors to what? Well, it ended up being to the stench of weed in the back of Jaebum’s old Sonata.

Jaebum’s car, which included his two stoner friends Jinyoung and Yugyeom, came to a halt at a red light near a plaza.

“You want to leave, y/n? Then here’s your stop,” Jaebum said.

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Jaebum shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I got places to go.” His friends muttered over how uncool you were. The least this jerk could’ve done was take you back home.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Go to hell.”

The car sped off as you stood near the plaza entrance. It was getting colder as midnight approached. So you decided to wait outside of an abandoned Spirit Halloween store so your Uber could pick you up from there. You walked towards the plaza and suddenly…

Bright lights appeared before you that you quickly shut your eyes. You blinked them open, wondering what just transpired when you realized...

There was an active movie theater there, with a giant sign surrounded by bright light bulbs. It read “Sinema”.

What the hell, you thought.

You walked closer and closer and saw people coming in and out of the theater. And then...oh, wow, you really had lost your mind. Little human-like creatures of different colors were flying around the entrance...They were fairies! Their pixie fairy dust landed on your shoulders. You picked off the dust that had fallen on the shoulder of your dress. The texture reminded you of Cheeto dust. It was hard to get off. You were certain your black dress was permanently stained.

Then, a man walked past you and transformed into a large purple dragon before your very eyes. He blew out fire within a few feet from you, you yelped. He set off for the sky and vanished. After, another group of men walked past you, flashing their vampire teeth as they laughed about something. They were all stunning but the one with wavy electric blue hair was the real showstopper. You couldn’t think that too long as people that looked bright and transparent walked towards you.

You thought they were going to bump into you so you said. “Hello? Watch where you’re going!”

But they walked right through you and kept going. Seemed like they got that kind of comment a lot.

You blinked a few times. Did that just happen? Were those...ghosts?

A young woman in her red and navy blue uniform appeared before you. She smiled. “Welcome to Sinema, the premier theater for the supernatural! My name is Haseul. You look like you have a lot of questions. Is this your first time here?”

“I...I…” You started. “Is this really happening?”

She laughed. “Yes...All supernatural creatures and their approved companions are welcome here!”

You frowned. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a supernatural creature.”

Haseul pulled out her phone. “Your name?”

“Uh...y/n y/l/n…” You said. “Wait, why did I say that?” You answered her without even thinking. It was like she compelled you to do what she asked.

She winked. “It’s a special little skill of mine. It’s a part of the job.” She scrolled through an app on her phone. “Well, you’re not a part of the approved human companions list so...You have to be supernatural!”

You gaped. “That’s funny…This is a joke, right? Some kind of Halloween event? Well, you’re a few months too late…”

Haseul shook her head. “Oh, no, this is no reenactment. This is the real deal. Allow me to escort you inside.”

You weren’t sure if that was a good idea but you were curious. You followed her inside.

The movie theater was elegant and modern. The latest video games were available at the arcade. The concession stand was huge. It had to be with the number of creatures that were lined up for snacks. The theater was three stories high. Posters for the latest movies were up. The music that played overhead consisted of songs from the 70s, 80s, and more. Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was playing.  Sinema seemed like any regular theater.

Well, except for the supernatural creatures, of course.

“What is this place?” You asked Haseul. “This can’t be real...I’ve been drugged. Jaebum got something in my system and I’m hallucinating. That has to be it.”

Haseul gave you a confused look. “This place is very real, y/n. I know it might be a hard pill to swallow but you belong here. To the supernatural world. A part of you is connected to this world. I’m not sure why it took you so long to discover that but...you’re here now.”

Haseul’s phone rang and she answered. “Yeah, boss?...Okay, I’ll stop calling you that...Oh? I see. Well, have fun with your boyfriend…” She teased. She hung up and she continued, “Well, y/n, I must be going but if you need anything, you can reach out to anyone who is wearing this uniform.” She showed off her uniform. She looked like a very casual flight attendant. The navy blue skirt was very flattering on her. Her white blouse had a red tie over it. Her name tag had her name written in her own elegant cursive.

“W-wait…” You started.

Haseul gave you a reassuring smile. “You can stay or leave, y/n. No one is keeping you here. But know that you’re always welcome here at Sinema. We hope to see you again.” She walked off to resume working, you thought.

You stood there, confused over what to do. Going to the movies hadn’t been in the cards for you tonight. Much less finding out that the supernatural existed in the same world you did.

Unless this was a parallel world, which just made your head spin even more.

Deciding to stay, you went back out to the main entrance to buy tickets. You heard growls among the chatter of people that stood in line before you. All kinds of creatures stood in front of you: werewolves, selkies, fairies, kitsunes, and more. You felt like the only outsider. For everyone else seemed to know their place…

According to Haseul, the only reason you could access this place was because you were a supernatural creature. And that...that just couldn’t be true. Sure you were adopted but you never displayed any kind of power or ability that would indicate you were a creature.

It was impossible, you thought. A striking young man with long silver hair stood behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. He was tall and muscular. You wondered what kind of creature he was or if he was actually a companion like Haseul described. You turned to him and his stare never wavered. “Can I help you?” You asked.

He blinked a few times to snap out of it. “I’m sorry...I zoned out…” He tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s your turn.”

“Miss?” The employee at the ticket stand asked. Like the young man behind you, she seemed human. However, the red tint in her eyes told you otherwise. You wondered what she could be.

“Oh, uh... A ticket to ‘Spider-Man: The New Kid’, please,” you said.

“That’ll be 12.50,” the employee replied.

Even if this was a movie theater for the supernatural, they certainly charged like a regular theater did. You paid the employee and got your ticket. The ticket stub was actually very beautiful. It was holographic so you could collect these stubs like trading cards, if you wanted.

You hung around too long so the silver-haired boy approached you.

He smiled at you. “Hello.”

You smiled, a little uneasy. “Hi…”

“First time at Sinema?” He asked. The man was stunning with his high cheekbones and dangerous dark eyes. A devil-may-care smile that must have won over a few women.

You nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“The look of horror on your face hasn’t faded,” he said, chuckling.

You sighed. “Yeah...Well, I’m still pretty stunned.”

He said, “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually. Something about you makes you belong to this world, right? Do you know what it is?” His eyes widened.

It was almost as if he knew the answer. But if you didn’t know, how could he?

You sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just a fluke.”

“Oh, I have to disagree…” He started.

A ghost materialized right beside you. He stood closer to you and stared down the silver-haired man. Even if he was a ghost, he was the most alluring man you’d ever seen. Although translucent, his features were striking and not to be ignored. His undercut that accentuated his face so well was bright red, like rubies. His ears were decorated with crescent moon studs. He wore a navy button down and black slacks, like he was dressed for a hot date. His tan skin cast an ethereal glow. “Yuta, give the girl some air. She just discovered she’s not human.”

The silver-haired man named Yuta sighed. “Do you ever stay out of people’s business?”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “Do you?”

You averted your eyes from them and looked at the concessions menu. Hmmm, the Sour Patch Bats looked promising, you thought. You started, “I’m gonna go.”

Yuta was about to call your name again but the ghost boy raised his hand to stop him. “You’re already messing around here too much. Leave her alone.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m the alpha.”

The ghost boy made faces as he imitated Yuta’s voice. “I’m the alpha. I eat the hearts of my enemies for breakfast. I’m Yuta.”

Yuta growled and it was so animalistic that you wondered if he was going to transform into the creature he most likely was. Your money was on him being a werewolf.

Yuta stormed off and returned to his posse of gorgeous and muscular people. They all watched you and you wondered what was so fascinating about you.

The ghost boy followed you as you got in line for concessions. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n...Yours?” You looked into his soulful eyes.

He smiled. “I’m Taeil. The eyes and ears of Sinema. And you’re new.”

“Yup...And I have no idea who I am or what the world is anymore…Well, it’s time for a snack.”

Taeil chuckled. “The Sour Patch bats are really popular but they sell out fast.”

An employee at the concession stand announced over the intercom. “Sorry, folks. The Sour Patch Bats are sold out.”

Everyone groaned and moaned and growled and wailed. Even you couldn’t help the tiny huff of disappointment that escaped your lips.

Taeil sighed. “Well, lucky for you y/n. I’m friends with the manager of this joint.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”

He smirked. “I know where she keeps her secret stash of Sour Patch Bats. Now she normally hides those away for her boyfriend but I’m sure she won’t miss one bag…”

Taeil led you upstairs to the manager’s office.

You frowned. “Are you sure we can be here?”

Taeil winked. “Nope. But she owes me.”

Taeil moved himself through the front door and unlocked the door from the inside. You entered the office and found a bouquet of flowers on the manager’s desk.

“How did you touch…”

He cleared his throat like he’d debated what he was going to say. “With most of my strength, y/n...Anything to impress the prettiest girl to set foot in Sinema.”

Although your concept of ghosts was completely debunked (ghosts could indeed touch inanimate objects), your face warmed up at that comment. You tried changing the subject. “Taeil, maybe this is a bad idea…”

He shook his head as he stuck his hand through the manager’s desk drawer and rummaged around before he grabbed a bag of the popular candy. He threw it over to you. You caught it.

You opened the bag and ate the bat-shaped sour gummies of lime, orange, lemon, and cherry. They were the best candy you’d ever tasted and until tonight, you’d been deprived of their existence.

Your eyes grew. “These are...Oh my God.”

Taeil smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d like them. See, the supernatural world isn’t so bad, is it?”

You were touched. He was being so kind and attentive. So quickly, too. “No, I guess not…”

His beautiful lips curved upwards as he watched you enjoy the candy.

“What movie are you going to see?” He asked.

“Well, Taeil, I thought you were the eyes and ears of this place. You should know,” you teased.

He laughed. “Well, I don’t. Is it an oldie? Sinema plays throwback movies every week to appease the masses.”

You shook your head. “I’m watching the new Spider-Man. The new actor they picked is supposed to be above all of his predecessors so I’m excited.”

Taeil asked. “Can I join you?”

You pretended to deliberate. “Well, you have supplied me with sustenance so how could I say no?”

Taeil usually kept to himself, occasionally confiding in his best friend. He really was the eyes and ears of the theater. He knew of all the romantic entanglements that transpired. The current feuds between species. And more.

Typically, he was stuck facing his demons and never quite got past the last thing he needed to overcome in order to ascend to heaven.

He’d sought justice so what was holding him back?

And at the sight of you, he felt an ease in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

___

Your first night at Sinema was the first of many where you and Taeil bonded and enjoyed each other’s company. You went to the theater every weekend and met up with him. You’d see a movie together and talk about it for hours on end. He’d even sometimes accompany you back to your dorm. And even if you could see him...no one else in the human realm could. So you would have to pretend you were on the phone when you talked to Taeil. Even as he sat closely beside you. Longing to hold your hand.

You wondered just how many creatures hid from you in plain sight. Some of them could masquerade as humans and you’d never know it. That terrified and excited you.

You loved Taeil’s sense of humor, how he showered you with free movie tickets and concessions (courtesy of his best friend’s connections), his wit, his smile, the goofy, fascinated look he gave you when you spoke.

You always wanted to push back his hair and slap his arm when he teased you. And you wondered what those soft red lips would feel like on yours.

But you couldn’t.

The most wonderful person you’d ever met.

And he was an apparition.

As for Taeil, well, he loved everything about you. Your mind. Your curiosity of the world. Your inability to shut away the unknown completely. The way you adapted to Sinema so quickly. The way you looked at him.

He was convinced that you also wanted to kiss him.

It killed you both, honestly.

You told him you were in your senior year of college. You were getting a degree as a nutritionist but you felt unsure about what you would pursue after college. You felt like nothing got your heart racing. You were just going through the motions, making your parents proud. They’d given so much to you so you didn’t want to disappoint them. So you figured getting a steady paying job was a step in the right direction and maybe one day you’d figure out your passion...and how to capitalize off of it.

Taeil could tell you were frustrated and lost and he wished you didn’t feel so down. He saw the light in your eyes. You had a whole future ahead of you. You would find your dream job someday, meet a man, settle down, have his children, and grow old together.

And him? Well, maybe at that point, he would finally have moved on.

Before meeting you, he was fixated on getting even with the man who murdered him and the woman who betrayed him and got the ball rolling.

He told you all about it...Originally, he didn’t want to because the details were too gruesome. But you’d been honest with him so it was the least he could do for you. He told you about his life in the west coast town of Luna, where he aspired to be a producer and songwriter. And he told you about how his life came to an abrupt end.

Taeil’s killer had been none other than Jung Jaehyun, the man whom his girlfriend had cheated on him with. Jaehyun was a member of one of Luna’s most notorious gangs and he detested Taeil. Taeil’s girlfriend, Lexa, didn’t know how to break up with Taeil so she could be with Jaehyun. She was frustrated because Taeil was so sweet and giving. He was so good to her that Lexa chickened out and never broke up with him. She was getting frustrated and Jaehyun was getting even angrier.

One of the nights that Lexa spent with Jaehyun, she let it slip that she wished there was a way she could get rid of Taeil. And Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige.

Jaehyun and his men cornered Taeil one night. He thought he was meeting Lexa for their 300 day anniversary. He got a text from her phone saying to meet her on the rooftop of the Nectarine Hotel because she had a surprise for him.

However, she was nowhere to be seen. Jaehyun took Taeil by surprise and pushed him off of the twenty story luxury hotel.

Jaehyun’s men lingered downstairs and made sure there were no witnesses on the scene. All evidence of Taeil’s death had been covered up. Taeil’s family and friends reported Taeil as a missing person. Lexa had also disappeared off of the face of the Earth. And many wondered if she and Taeil had disappeared to start anew.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jaehyun, Lexa, and his men disposed of Taeil’s body off underneath an overpass. They’d buried his body and washed their cleans of him.

Taeil always thought about whether or not an afterlife existed. When he hit the ground from his fall, everything went black. The roaring pain all over his body that hit him for one moment...Quickly vanished at the next.

Taeil opened his eyes again and instead of seeing Downtown Luna...Only white surrounded him. Surrounded by golden specks.

An angel appeared before him with stunning peach-colored wings. The angel shined so brightly that Taeil couldn’t make out their face. They spoke softly… “Moon Taeil...Born June 14, 1994...Died October 22, 2018.”

Taeil sobbed then. “Please, is there any way you can save me?”

The angel sighed. “My poor child...You’ve been wronged. I want to give you the opportunity to seek justice...And once you have seeked justice and found peace, you can ascend into Heaven and join us. Our Heavenly Father awaits you.”

Before Taeil could respond, he became a ghost. He manifested into another town he couldn’t recognize. It was the city of Mystic. Jaehyun lived a life of luxury and terrorized the new city with his gang. And who reigned right beside him in a God-awful bubblegum pink wig?

The woman he’d loved and planned to propose to: Lexa.

Lexa played around with the buttons on Jaehyun’s designed shirt as she quietly thanked him for killing Taeil. And Jaehyun murmured back a thank you for giving him the idea and for suggesting a good hiding place for his remains.

Taeil felt sick to his stomach. The love he felt for Lexa had quickly shifted into hatred. And Taeil wanted revenge. He wanted to take them both down. But how, he wondered.

It took him a few more months to figure out how exactly he could enact revenge on them. Haunting them for a few weeks was a thrill but he wanted Jaehyun behind bars. And Lexa? Well, Taeil just wanted her to drown in guilt.

And then, Taeil found Sinema, a supernatural hub in the seemingly typical town of Mystic. Taeil struck a deal with the vampires to help them dig up his body. They in turn compelled the police to find his remains and track down Jaehyun.

Taeil owed the vampires a few months of haunting humans who had deceived them when they were once humans. So both parties were happy.

Taeil decided to spare Lexa from prison. Instead, her family, her friends, and everyone from Luna shunned her for having a hand in Taeil’s murder. Although she was never charged, she was as good as guilty as Jaehyun and his men.

Lexa remained in Mystic in a run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. The luxuries she was able to afford before, because of Taeil and then because of Jaehyun, were no longer accessible to her so she lived a life full of resentment.

But Taeil visited her many nights to remind her that more than anything, she should’ve felt guilt and remorse for what she’d done to him.

How she convinced him that he’d found happiness in her. How she made him out to be a fool. And how she discarded him like a piece of trash.

Lexa’s mind slowly unraveled over time and the guilt slowly consumed her each time.

Taeil ate it all up. This felt like justice and he didn’t want to ascend just yet. He wanted Lexa to get on her knees and pray to God for forgiveness for what she’d done to Taeil.

But that day hadn’t come. So Taeil frequented her apartment at night...Having Lexa think she dreamed of him as she slept.

One late Saturday night...going into Sunday morning, Taeil waited with you at the bench for your Uber to arrive to take you back to your dorm. Sometimes he accompanied you to the dorm and talked to you. You’d have to pretend you were on the phone so your Uber driver didn’t think you were talking to an imaginary friend.

Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be taking you home.

You asked, “Are you going to see her now?”

Taeil froze. “What?”

You wondered aloud, “Lexa...Do you haunt her on the weekends too?”

“Not recently, actually...I’ve been seeing her less.”

You smiled. “Taeil, that’s great. It means you’re getting over her.”

Taeil glared. “I don’t need to get over her. I despise her.”

Your smile vanished. “I know that. It’s just-”

He shot back, “Just what?”

You looked down at your hands and played with your fingers. “It’s just...You’ve sought justice...Jaehyun is rotting in a jail cell...Lexa is guilty over what she’s done...And...I hate to say this...But I think if you stop going to see her...There’s a chance you can finally ascend.”

He looked taken aback at your words. “I can ascend whenever I want.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

Taeil looked even more annoyed as he sneered. “Absolutely. Excuse me for wanting to spend a little more time with you before I leave forever.”

His words infuriated you. “Taeil, you...I’m not the reason you want to stay...You’re hung up on your ex. Even if it’s not in the romantic sense...You’re fixated on terrorizing her until what? She begs for forgiveness?”

“And what the hell is wrong with that?”

“Taeil, you’re meant to find peace. You have to let her go.”

“Well, y/n, thank you for your opinion. I never asked for it but it’s certainly never stopped you...Have a safe trip back to your dorm.”

“Fine! Manifest yourself back to me when you get a grip.” You crossed your arms around your chest in anger. He was unbelievable. You were right. He just wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t give up on seeing that...that wretched bitch.

Why did you let this piss you off so much and why were you overstepping...You had no right…

Perhaps it was because you’d fallen for Taeil and seeing him jeopardize his fate over this woman infuriated you like nothing else had.

The full moon was out that night and you couldn’t help but yell in fury at the sky.

Someone crept up behind you and with his claws, he scratched deeply into your collarbone. “Hey, what the fuck?!”

You turned around to find a werewolf before you. It was a literal wolf on two legs. His muscles protruded like that of a man’s but they were so large...You knew he could easily snap your neck with a quick movement of his hands. His tawny coat shined in the moonlight. His brown eyes watched you, expectantly.

You were about to get on your knees and beg for mercy.

You saw a group of people lingering beside the werewolf. You remembered them. They were a part of Yuta’s pack.

“Yuta?” You finally connected the dots and realized the wolf who scratched you was Yuta. You hadn’t seen him since that first time.

He had been a werewolf, after all. But why had he transformed? Why was he here? Why had he done this to you?

You winced slightly at the scrapes and monitored them as they quickly vanished. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Yuta’s fur vanished as he transformed back into his human self. He was shirtless but his pair of jeans remained on. “Y/n, I wanted to confirm something…”

You frowned. “What?”

“The scratch of the alpha is borderline lethal to any outsider of the pack...So any pack member or...descendant of that pack member can heal from his bite…”

You laughed nervously, confused. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Where the bloody hell was your Uber? “Uh...That’s interesting, I guess.”

“Can’t you see, y/n? I’m the alpha of the Nakamoto clan. You’ve healed from my scratches...Which means…”

You demanded, “What does it mean?”  

“It means you are a descendant of this clan, y/n…”

You shook your head. “No...That’s...Impossible. I’m not a werewolf…”

“You were adopted at five months, y/n...Your parents perished in a war against the vampires...Your parents led normal lives as humans for as long as they could...Much to the disappointment of my father.”

“Yuta, you don’t know what you’re saying…”

“I do, y/n. The pack and I have uncovered everything about you and your family history. You’re a werewolf. An unawakened one.”

“No…”

“Explain how your bite healed. The only way you could enter Sinema of your own accord is if you possessed supernatural blood. And werewolf blood is as supernatural as it gets.”

“Yuta, please, you’ve got the wrong person...I don’t know why you bit me and why it healed. Maybe it’s some magic trick you pulled off to please your pack...I’ve had a shitty night so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” you said, checking your phone for the arrival of your Uber. It was arriving.

“Y/n!”

The Uber pulled up and you turned to him. “Just leave me alone.”

___

You visited your parents the next day. You asked them about where they’d adopted you from. They’d always been very mum about the details.

“Someone told me something crazy the other day,” you said to them as the three of you shared dinner with your adopted younger siblings.

Your parents both looked at each other, concerned.

“He said my biological parents were werewolves!” You laughed in disbelief. “How crazy is that?”

Your parents eyed each other again.

Your mom started, “Who is this man?”

“Mom, I believe the proper response is ‘That man is crazy. Where did he get that kind of story?’”

You knew your parents were hiding something and you wanted to hear the truth from them.

Your father scratched his neck as he took off his glasses. Your younger siblings all eyed each other uncomfortably.

“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” You asked.

Your dad said, “Y/n...We hoped for you to never find out.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Dad, you’re scaring me...Find out what?”

Your parents went on to tell you about the incidents you had when you turned eleven. After you’d had your first period, you began to experience terrible mood swings and throw tantrums left and right around the time the full moon occurred. And when you turned thirteen and the first full moon following your birthday occurred…

You’d attacked a neighbor who was walking their dog.

You’d grown teeth and hair all over your body that night. You’d become a wolf, according to your parents.

Once the night had ended, you’d transformed into a human again and fallen asleep.

Your neighbors never knew that it had been you. Your parents helped your attacked neighbor get to a hospital and they reported an animal attack in the neighborhood. Your neighbor couldn’t remember anything.

But her dog never forgot and hated you.

Your parents got a hold of the adoption agency and they had no information on your birth parents besides their names. Your parents then got in touch with a psychic, who referred them to a witch. They took you to the witch and she told them you were an unawakened werewolf. You were a fledgling. Unless you received the bite of an alpha werewolf and acquired your position in the pack, you were susceptible to these monthly full moon transformations and since you hadn’t been awakened, it would be even worse and dangerous for those around you. So the witch concocted a potion that would suppress your fledgling urges but it was critical that you consumed it each month.

Which explained why your parents were always so adamant for you to come home every month for dinner. They put the potion in your dinner. So you were able to suppress your urges up until this point.

Could this be the reason why you felt so unfulfilled? Because you never explored your true nature? Your parents never gave you the choice to control it.

Your parents had good intentions but you had the option to meet the pack all of these years...And you never knew.

You’d always felt like a part of you had been missing and your trip to Sinema had done the trick to lead you to the truth.

___

Back in your dorm and without having ingested the potion your parents had given, you’d only had a few days until the full moon. You were resolved to speak to Yuta.

You’d gotten out of the shower, letting out a shaky breath from all of the bundled up nerves you carried. You were shocked to find Taeil standing in your common room that you shared with your roommates. They were all away for the day.

“Taeil!” You started as you covered your towel more tightly around you.

“I heard,” Taeil started, worry etched all over his face, “If I could kill Yuta, I would…”

“Taeil, I’m going to him,” you started.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m going to be awakened by him.”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Y/n, what are you-”

“I’m an unawakened werewolf, Taeil. My biological parents were werewolves and if I don’t receive the official bite of the alpha, I’m going to suffer by the influence of the full moon.”

“Y/n, the full moon is in two weeks!”

“I know…” You said.

Taeil sighed. “Y/n, you have a chance to be away from the supernatural world. To avoid the dangers of these creatures. I know humans are terrible, deceitful, and cruel...But the supernatural doesn’t fare better. You didn’t grow up in this world. It could consume you and spit you right back out…”

You were resolved, though. You longed to explore more of the world and to embrace the part of you that had always been neglected. “Taeil, I’ve made my decision. My family has respected it. And I hope you will, too.”

A tear escaped Taeil’s eye. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t left you alone…”

You shook your head as you wished to embrace him. “Taeil, this isn’t on you. This opened my eyes. My path is more defined now...Who knows what awaits me once I awaken? That’s for me to find out.”

Taeil extended his hand out and pretended to caress your face. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

“No,” you said, as you leaned closer to his transparent hand.

He smiled weakly. “Y/n, I’ve thought a lot about it and you were right...I’ve given up on visiting Lexa.”

You opened your mouth wide. “Really?”

Taeil avoided your stare as he stared at the potted plant by the window. “I...wanted to stay longer but...we’re both meant to part ways...And I’m not happy...Terrorizing Lexa hasn’t given me any sense of fulfillment. Temporary pleasure? Yes...But I long to find that peace.”

You cried. “Taeil, I’m so happy to hear that. And you will find that peace, I promise you.”

“In the meantime, I’ll be by your side as you head into your next chapter.”

You smiled at him and didn’t realize your towel slipped to the floor.

“Y/n…” Taeil coughed as he quickly turned red and turned around.

“What?” You frowned.

Without looking at you, he pointed to the towel on the floor.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. But then, you watched Taeil...He was blushing…

“Did it hurt that much to look at my body, Taeil?” You asked, quietly.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“It’s okay...You can look…”

Taeil turned and was shocked to see you still unclothed.

You gave him a flirty smile. “I know we can’t touch...But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”

You got onto your bed and slowly began to tease your clit and Taeil’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. He adored every inch of you as he scanned your body and worked his hardest to commit it all to memory.

You could see his member grow in his pants. He immediately gripped his gorgeous length and pleasured himself alongside you.

“I wish I could feel your heavenly cock on my clit…” You told him.

He grunted. “Heaven can wait...This is real paradise...Here with you.”

You muttered sweet nothings to each other and imagined that you made love to each other that day.

___

You and Taeil were more inseparable than before. Because you knew your days together were numbered.

The full moon arrived and Yuta had agreed that this was the ideal time for your initiation into his pack. You would be able to absorb the moon’s power as you transformed from Yuta’s bite.

Yuta invited you to his mansion in the woods not too far outside of town. His pack members were present and they’d arranged a massive bonfire at the center in honor of your awakening.

Taeil was right beside you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the pack members. But what could they do? Drag him out? When they couldn’t even lay a finger on him?

Yuta was dressed in his best tuxedo as he recited the pack’s code of conduct to you and welcomed you into their pack. He transformed into his wolf form and at the brightest the full moon had been, you’d taken on your fledgling form. You howled at the moon and became rabid. Yuta knew what he had to do.

Taeil watched you in concern but Yuta had sworn to protect you. For you would be one of his family soon enough. So Taeil had no choice but to trust him.

Yuta bit into your collarbone and your eyes shifted from their usual color and into a bright amber. You felt yourself regain consciousness and became aware of where you were.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” Yuta asked.

You nodded.

Yuta continued, “Good. You are now a fully awakened werewolf. Harness your abilities with honor and know that you have a family in the Nakamoto clan forever.”

“Hear hear!” The pack members yelled out.

You’d reverted back into your human form through your own accord. You were shocked at how quickly you could turn back.

You ran over to Taeil and he beamed at you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel...whole...Fulfilled...I have no idea what will happen next but it’s a new kind of uncertainty...And I like it.”

Taeil said, “I’m glad, y/n…”

He started to pixelate before you and his voice began to fade.

Your smile faded. “Taeil?”

“I think God wanted me to stick around for this momentous occasion...Before he summoned me…”

You couldn’t help the tears that escaped you. “Taeil, I love you.”

He cried with you. “I love you, too. I will see you up there...Soon. I’d better be the first person you look up when you ascend, you hear me?”

You wrapped your arms around him and to your shock. To everyone’s shock at the party...You could feel Taeil. He was muscular and the warmth of his body was like the fuzziest blanket wrapped around you after the worst day. He felt wonderful. And you never wanted to let him go.

Taeil longed for the day he could feel your body around his...And it was only at this time when you two had to bid farewell when he could feel you against him. You were strong but at that moment, he held you tenderly. Like you would break at any second. Because this moment was the most fragile. It was fleeting. So you both soaked in the feeling of each other’s bodies as you held each other.

Taeil kissed you and you reciprocated. His lips felt just like you’d imagined them. Soft. Perfect against yours. His kiss was the euphoria you would treasure for the rest of your life.

You released each other.

“Goodbye, Moon,” you teased. You made a play at his last name. Since you were a werewolf now, you’d be highly influenced by the activity of the moon.

He joked back. “Goodbye, Wolfie. Don’t forget to howl at me once in a while. It’s kinda hot...” The cliche of werewolves howling at the moon was actually a common practice for them.

You shook your head and laughed as he faded away. You cried hard that night, missing him already.

Yuta and his pack comforted you as you cried. They celebrated you and they mourned with you. This pack had become your family.

___

Taeil finally ascended to Heaven. It was a lot like Earth but idealistic. Paradise had everything at his disposal. He could go to the movies and have an unlimited supply of Sour Patch Bats. He finally knew what they tasted like. He could get a foot massage whenever he felt like it. He could play his music and sing to his heart’s content. God was a big fan of Moon Taeil. 

But the thing he loved most was being able to look after the loved ones he left behind.

Now that Taeil had become an angel, he would accumulate power overtime in order to send blessings to the people he loved most.

Especially to you.

____

You’d gotten a better grip on your powers but you were still a long way from being Yuta’s right hand. You’d moved into one of Yuta’s apartment complexes that he owned. You were finishing up your last year of school, as well. Since you’d stabilized your powers, you could carry on with your day-to-day activities. It’s just nighttime that would be unaccounted for.

One day, Yuta visited you.

You greeted him as you welcomed him inside your spacious apartment. He sat down on your L-shaped couch in your living room as you gave him a glass of water. “To what do I owe the pleasure, boss?”

Yuta never visited his pack member’s homes unless it was important business. Usually, he summoned them to a common area, like one of his mansions in the city.

Yuta smiled. “I see you like your new place.”

You nodded. “It beats hearing my roommates screw their boyfriends every other night, I must admit.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“What’s up? You’re not usually one for small talk...Unless you want to sleep with them...And that girl isn’t here at the moment.” You knew about Yuta’s tumultuous relationship with Sinema’s manager.

Yuta blushed then. “You...Knock it off.”

You laughed heartily, then. You two had developed an older brother little sister relationship. Yuta was able to uncover more information about your parents and your extended family. He’d been extremely helpful during this time, providing financial support not only to you but your entire family.

When Yuta said the pack was a family, he really meant it.

Yuta was mulling over his next words and he gave you a solemn look. The light, breezy mood had quickly vanished.

The power the alpha held to control the room.

He said, “Y/n, prepare your things. The war is about to begin.”

[Fin...Or is it?]

Stay tuned for the next spooky story...

[potatotrash0]

Oh? You've been into Childhood alternative universes lately?*slides Mastermind Nagito file back and pulls seperate piece of paper out* Let's work with that. *sits in the worn down swivel chair that I imagine myself keeping in this hellscape of a fictional office* Now :).

Hinata and Nagito first met when they were six. Nagito was still sick at this time, so his parents were taking him to a doctor in a different country in hopes of being able to treat him. Nagito was sitting on a street corner waiting as some of the servants packed up the car for their plane trip, when he notices a little boy with the greenest eyes and the oddest cowlick crying on the other side of the street. When he goes up to the child to ask what's wrong, he sees the big scrape on his knee, and the busted skateboard lying next to him. Nagito offers a hand to him. "Komaeda Nagito. Need some help?" He says with a smile that wasn't yet tainted with anxiety and despair. The kid crying grabs the hand, still bursting at the seams with his tears, and manages to say "H-hinata Hajime." in a shaky voice. When Hajime's taken inside for a glass of water and bandages, and is able to talk in a less shaky voice, they make a fond promise to hang out when Nagito gets back.

When Nagito gets back from the "trip", Hajime is in absolute shock. This sweet kid who helped him without hesitation had to deal with all this... terrible luck. Hajime does his best to look up ways to feel better, gets a bucket of a water and a handful of chocolates ( drinking water can help stop crying and chocolate can give ranged waves of dopamine [if I remember right]- Hajime doesn't know what dopamine means but it was on a site to help sadness and shit and he's just doin his best), and heads to Nagito's house. He's allowed in, and when he eventually finds Nagito curled up in the corner of his room, he stupidly drops the bucket and chocolates in front of him with a grin. Nagito responds by crawling over to him and crying on his shoulder for seemingly hours, and Hajime lets him.

Nagito was glad he had someone who wouldn't judge him for his "good luck" now.

( afterwards, Nagito says that it was alright, that he heard the servants talking about how it was good luck, since he inherited a large estate, and Hajime says he heard his parents say the same thing, and they both agree that it must have been good luck, since everyone else said so, despite the countless bruises and tears that it caused. Neither of them realize that their views on luck were permanently obscured since then.)

They grow closer after that, and don't seperate once, not as they grow older, not as life beats Nagito inwards which each traumatic event and curls into his beliefs of hope, despair, and talent, not as Hajime realizes he can't save Nagito from himself. Which each day, they grow closer and closer to the hip, practically seamed to each other.

That is, until Hope's Peak academy came into the picture. Nagito and Hajime immediately jumped for whatever chance they had to get in (both reasons are personal, but more tied to the character- Nagito still desires to be amongst the greatest, while Hajime still desires to be remembered [mostly by Nagito, though he doesn't entirely realize that's why].), but when they're still separated by the two courses, that's ywhere the problem lies. You see, Nagito is still an insensitive dumbfuck that doesn't realize how his words affect other people, and when he keeps actively degrading the reserve course students even in front of Hajime, it takes a toll. Hajime starts believing that Nagito hates him because of his status as a reserve course student now, and between the pressure of all the bullshit that happens to him because of his status and now this bs drama, he's willing to pay a price for his affection once again. A price that'll be much too permanent for either's liking.

This is where I add the Kamakura project in. I'm sorry for this upcoming angst shit but I always find my way back here.

When Hajime is presented the Kamakura project, he thinks about being able to join Nagito in the talent course and that Nagito won't be hate him for it anymore. He thinks of Nagito showering him with hugs and praise for finally being able to join him and his classmates. He thinks of the joy it'll bring to Nagito and his parents- but mostly Nagito. He thinks of Nagito, Nagito, Nagito as he signs his name. He didn't think he'd be shoved into a pod. He didn't think he wouldn't be able to see Nagito ever again. As he dies, he thinks about the little boy who offered his hand to him when his other friends left. Nagito, Nagito, Nagito. Izuru is born thinking of this boy, and it sticks. Nagito, Nagito, Nagito. He doesn't stop thinking of him, even when Enoshima and Ikusaba appeared with their proposition of despair (a part of him told him to not do it, let Nagito keep his hope, this man he couldn't remember), even when Chiaki dies in front of him (he feels... guilty, about her death, but not exactly sorrow. he wonders if he'd feel this way if the sheep man died.).

Nagito realizes who Izuru was when he turned around to aim at him. He saw the cold, dead eyes of this man, and for a moment he saw the boy who remembered him and brought him water and chocolate to help him feel better. The one person Nagito thought couldn't be affected by his luck was gone now. This was how Nagito fell into despair.

They generally stayed together for most of the apocalypse, still attached to the hip, although it was... different now. There were no more subconscious handholding moments as they traveled through the streets. There was no more trying to stop Servant from berating himself. There was no more helping Hinata's injuries. No more ice cream "dates". No more... love, in their presence.

Izuru tells Servant about his plan as they sit together on the boat to Jabberwock. Servant is sitting in the other's lap, stroking their hair as they speak. He responds with expressing his excitement, and Izuru feels a wave of guilt wash over him, though he drowns it out immediately.

Hajime wakes up to see his best friend standing over him. "Hey, Hajime, are you alright?" Nagito says, with a smile tainted with fear and despair as he offers his hand to help him up. Hajime briefly feels a sense of Deja vu, and grabs the offered hand.

(I keep making these too long dkckakkflakfkalfk f u c k)

sobs.........every time you get to the kamukura project i just brace myself bc it hurts like hell 100% of the time without fail......but ahhhhhhh i love this.......

for a moment i thought this was gonna be childhood friends and mastermind komaeda and i nearly had a heart attack?? mmm i’m still buzzing with the ideas but i’ll put it under the cut

just like. hajime finding comfort in having at least one person to rely on in this bizarre situation. komaeda really does ground him, he realizes, but that stability seems to crumble beneath him during that first trial. watching nagito, someone he thought he knew so well, reveal that he had been the one behind this elaborate plan to get himself or someone else killed? there’s no way hajime could okay after that, no way he could look at him the same way.

and he doesn’t, but he doesn’t look at him completely differently either. this komaeda, someone who’s unstable and actively looks forward to the next murder, is still komaeda. he’s still the same guy who goes through whole novels like they’re picture books, who pokes at his food at meal times and has to be nagged at to eat. he’s still nagito. and even if he wanted to, hajime couldn’t find it in himself to just ditch the guy he grew up with for all those years.

so, he reaches out again. gets to know his childhood friend for a second time, relearning his beliefs, his likes, his dislikes. even discovers some things he never noticed before. in a way, they were driven apart, but also brought back together again.

and that’s part of the reason it’s such a shock to see komaeda in monokuma’s place during that last trial, grinning down at them. he looks and sounds like nagito, but he couldn’t be him. someone who put them through all this couldn’t be that same boy who helped him when he fell off his skateboard all those years ago......right?

all of this information, from the world being a simulation to his childhood friend being the one to basically kill all of their classmates, it all throws him off. not to mention that he might not even exist outside of this program. choosing between staying with someone who betrayed him twice over or disappearing entirely........can he even make a decision like that?

[bytheangell]

Take Me With You

(For my @shadowhunterbingo square: Traveling | Jimon, Rated Teen, referenced alcohol but no archive warnings/other warnings) (Read on AO3) “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Simon insists. “It was one stupid letter.”

“The letter wasn’t stupid,” Jace says, already regretting his appointment to this job. “It was a death threat, by someone who’s sent multiple things to your unlisted apartment.”

“Well, no one knows where I live on the road, which is where I’ll be for the next three months,” Simon points out.

“Oh, yes, the total inability to track you from a list of cities you’re going to and the dates and times you’ll be there. You’re right, no one will ever find you that way,” Jace says, his tone dripping with sarcasm and more than a little condescending. Simon isn’t a no-name, but he isn’t famous-famous either, and Jace hoped that’d make him a little less awful to put up with than Jace’s usual high-profile assignments. So far it’s the opposite - Simon isn’t taking this seriously at all, which is somehow more frustrating than too much importance being put on minor perceived threats.

Simon sighs. “Fine.” It certainly doesn’t sound like he’s fine with it, but Jace isn’t here to argue. He’s here to do a job.

“Great,” Jace says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

---

That ends up being a complete lie. Of course, when Jace first imagined blending into the background of Simon’s tour life he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Simon drove his own van, which would just be the two of them for extended periods of time.

Jace can tell that he’s putting a damper in the way Simon normally functions during his tours, mostly because he’s quiet while they drive. Then he’ll say something, start to ramble, catch himself rambling, and fall abruptly silent again in a repeating pattern.

“Sorry if I’m cramping your style,” Jace says after one of these repetitions, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background.

“You’re not,” Simon insists.

Jace is dubious. “What would you be doing if you were alone?” Jace asks.

Simon doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “Scream-singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. It’s like, my tried-and-true road trip routine.”

“...so do it. Don’t let me stop you,” Jace says.

“My manager hates it because he’s convinced one of these days I’ll end up losing my voice before a show. It’s probably for the best I’m not,” Simon says before falling silent again.

Jace doesn’t push it, nor does he comment when Simon starts to sing to a song that comes on about half an hour later, his voice growing louder and louder until all the windows are down and he’s shouting lyrics into the cool night air.

Jace has to fight the urge to join him. Normally he doesn’t have an issue staying focused on a job but Simon has this disarming way of making Jace want to relax around him. Somehow what he thought would be his easiest job to date continues to throw surprising complications his way.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut and enjoys Simon’s singing as they continue driving into the night.

---

Watching Simon with his fans is nerve-wracking. There’s no telling who might be a threat, not when everyone seems so down-to-earth, much like Simon himself. There aren’t any obviously obsessive fangirls and normal tells like knowing too many personal details is just the norm, with multiple people casually asking Simon about how his Bubbie Helen is doing or about the cat he left at home with Clary during his tour, or the most recent book he’s been reading and chatting about online. It’s difficult to pick out a potential stalker when everyone knows what Jace would typically consider more personal details than usual about Simon.

Jace watches these pre- and post-show encounters with a feeling more like he’s observing conversations between old friends rather than a musician and his fans, signatures and photo ops aside. Simon knows some of them by name, remembers birthdays mentioned over social media or live chats, and even recalls previous conversations. It’s impressive.

Dressed in plain clothes so he blends in with the crowd, Jace grows increasingly impressed with Simon the more time he spends with him. Plenty of people claim to be humble, but few often are in practice. Not Simon. Simon is everything he told Jace when they first met. He’s the same way with his fans that he is in private with Jace, which is the same way he is with his family and friends - Simon’s just, well, Simon, honestly and earnestly and unapologetically.

It’s refreshing. It’s also just another thing for Jace to push to the back of his mind, because he doesn’t need to like the guy - he just needs to protect him. Simon looks up from the table he’s signing CDs at and shoots Jace a beaming smile, and Jace has to actively force himself not to smile back and simply nod his head in acknowledgment instead.

“It’s an assignment, Herondale. Get your shit together,” Jace mutters to himself from the corner of the room. It’s a reminder he repeats more often over the upcoming weeks than he’s comfortable admitting.

---

“Please,” Jace begs after the first two weeks of shows. “I will pay for a better hotel. Let me pay for a better hotel.”

Simon is shaking his head in response before Jace finishes the request.

“Why?!” Jace glances critically around the room. “Do you want to get murdered in a shady motel? Just because I can keep you alive doesn’t mean we have to actively test it every night when we could have a door that doesn’t look like my 11-year-old brother could kick it in.”

“You have a brother?” Simon asks, ignoring everything else Jace said as he tosses his duffel bag (because Simon doesn’t even have a proper suitcase) onto a bed Jace feels the instinctive need to run a blacklight over.

Jace hesitates to answer because this is a job and he isn’t meant to share personal information about himself with his assignment. It’s strange because normally the people he’s tasked to protect are such self-absorbed assholes they barely spare Jace a second glance, let alone casual conversation.

He’s aware that the pause he takes after what should be a simple question is way too long when Simon frowns, brows pinching together.

“Two brothers, actually. One older, one younger, and a sister,” Jace finally decides to share. It’s all he intends on saying, not wanting to be rude and not answer at all, but when Simon brings up his own sister and keeps talking, keeps asking curious, harmless questions, Jace finds himself answering without thinking.

Simon is easy to talk to - maybe a little too easy to talk to, because the next thing they know it’s 1am and they need to be up and back on the road at 6.

“Get some sleep, Lewis,” Jace says finally, taking a few extra minutes to secure the door before doing one last perimeter sweep. When he gets back he pretends he doesn’t notice Simon, still awake, hastily close his eyes and pretend to sleep the second Jace gets back in the room.

---

After the third week, Jace insists that staying at nicer hotels is a matter of security and finally convinces Simon to pull into the parking lot of a proper hotel. One with room service instead of vending machines, plus a gym and a pool. Jace tells himself it’s a matter of security as well, and not a reaction to Simon complaining about having several nights of terrible sleep and some back and neck pain from the old, cheap mattresses.

Jace certainly doesn’t correct Simon’s assumption that this is covered in the contract when in reality Jace is fronting the extra cost himself. After all, this is as much for his own benefit as it is for Simon’s, right?

That’s what he tells himself as he opens up more around Simon as well, sharing a drink or two when Simon insists (never anything enough to impair his judgment, and only ever when they’re back in a room for the remainder of the night), telling a few more personal stories, and… flirting?

Jace isn’t sure, but occasionally when Simon impulsively runs into an ice cream shop in a new city and gets a cone for each of them, or points out a storefront display with a leather jacket he thinks Jace might like, or leans his shoulder into Jace while laughing at something sarcastic Jace says… yeah, sometimes Jace gets the feeling that Simon might actually like him.

Then Jace just as quickly tells himself that it’s just Simon being nice, because Simon is nice, and because of course Simon’s going to be on good terms with the guy he’s stuck with 24/7 for two months. Jace is working for Simon, and their relationship is strictly professional, however pleasant it may also be.

It’s that hard line Jace knows they won’t cross that allows him to continue to open up more, because Simon’s safe. He’ll never see the guy again when all of this is over.

“You’re a good person, Jace,” Simon says one night after a lengthy conversation.

“...what?” Jace isn’t expecting that.

“You know that, right?” Simon’s tone is just shy of insistent, and certainly not rhetorical.

“Why do you say that?” Jace asks instead of agreeing, because… well, because he doesn’t know that. He tries, but he’s made some shitty decisions in his past, and hurt a lot of people, intentionally or not. And Simon doesn’t even know him, so Jace really doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Just… the way you talk about yourself sometimes. Like you always have something to prove, or make up for... or like you have to justify everything you say. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t think very highly of yourself even when you’re acting like God’s gift to mankind,” Simon adds with more accurate insight than Jace is comfortable with.

And now Jace really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you, a philosopher now?” Jace mutters, still avoiding any sort of direct commentary on Simon’s way-too-close-to-home observation. “Go to sleep, Simon. I don’t need you too tired to focus on the road tomorrow.”

Simon looks like he’s going to argue but doesn’t in the end, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts in the newly settling silence of the hotel room.

It feels surprisingly pleasant to hear those affirmations from Simon, and Jace considers for the briefest moment what it’d be like to just be friends with Simon outside of their circumstances, to have these discussions and delve deeper into both of their pasts, humoring more of Simon’s personal questions and--

--and everything he can’t let this turn into over the next few weeks. Fuck.

Maybe there’s some harm in opening up after all.

---

They’re a little over halfway through the three-month tour when Jace realizes that perhaps his harmless crush on Simon is stronger than he realized. Jace watches from his usual spot in the corner as Simon signs CDs and sells band t-shirts and poses for photos, which is what he always does. But with every flirtatious laugh and every arm Simon drapes over someone’s shoulder or wraps around someone’s waist, Jace feels the desire to pull Simon away... and it isn’t because he’s in danger. It’s because Jace is jealous.

Jace grows sullen at the realization, arms crossed in front of him as he forces himself to watch Simon with his fans, because this is his job. The more he watches the more he doesn’t even think Simon realizes he’s doing it. Jace knows what active, intentional flirting looks like, but this is just Simon being his natural charming self, and Jace isn’t sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse.

Because it starts to dawn on him with a bit more meaning now that the way Simon’s been with him is the way Simon is with everyone. Jace just gets to experience it more often than everyone else right now. That doesn’t make their conversations special. It doesn’t make Jace anything special to Simon. And hell, maybe it’s just been a while since Jace spent this much time with someone else, too. Maybe he should work on writing off his own motivations as easily as he’s writing off Simon’s because his feelings are far from professional right now.

When the crowd disperses and Jace goes to help Simon wrap up his gear and load it back into the van (something that’s become routine for them, though not strictly in Jace’s list of expected duties) Jace is quieter than usual.

“Everything alright?” Simon asks, catching the shift in mood.

“Yeah. Fine,” Jace says curtly.

Simon doesn’t look like he believes him but doesn’t press the topic as they toss the last of the equipment into the van and head out.

---

The nicer Simon is toward him, the more closed-off Jace gets. He’s quiet during dinners Simon insists on paying for, stops sharing so much about himself when they do talk, and when Simon gives Jace a guitar pick he fashioned into a necklace for him Jace pockets it with a muttered ‘thanks’ without putting it on. He doesn’t have the heart to totally push Simon away, but he can’t keep growing closer to him knowing it’s all going to end in three weeks.

Jace wears the necklace every day but he keeps it tucked underneath his shirts where Simon can’t see.

Simon eventually stops trying to talk to him entirely, and they spend more and more time in uncomfortable silences. Sometimes Simon insists he needs privacy to work on his music and Jace sits at the end of the hallway of their hotel room listening to the faded sounds of Simon’s strumming.

There are three weeks left in Jace’s assignment when he gets the call that the police managed to track the letters to a girl back in New York: she’s in custody and getting a restraining order put against her, and Jace can come back as soon as he arranges transportation.

Jace hangs up the phone feeling surprisingly upset. This is great news for Simon, and he should be happy for him if nothing else, but that means this is the last night he’ll have to spend with Simon.

The last night he’ll get to spend with Simon.

“Hey Simon, good news. I just got a call from Luke and they tracked down your mystery stalker. You’ll get all the details once you’re back home but they’re already putting the restraining order into place, so you’re good to go.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Simon grins automatically, but it falls back into a frown just as quickly. “Does that mean you…?” his words trail off in question.

“I’ll be able to leave in the morning,” Jace confirms.

“Guess you’ll be happy to get out of here,” Simon says, his smile entirely gone.

“I do miss New York,” Jace carefully avoids the answer he knows Simon’s fishing for. The lie he should give, but can’t bring himself to.

Simon looks Jace up and down, his gaze finally resting on Jace’s face for a long couple of seconds, searching for something there before turning away without another word.

---

Jace knows he shouldn’t go to the show, but he does. He hangs in the back, a real drink in hand now that he’s no longer on duty, and listens to Simon sing the songs Jace knows by heart now. Jace knows from experience standing by the side of the stage that there’s no way Simon can make out any faces where Jace currently sits back by the bar. He plans on leaving before the end, before the lights come on and Simon knows he was there.

He’s a few drinks in when he hears Simon break his usual format.

“How does everyone feel about me trying out a new song I’ve been working on?” Simon asks. The crowd claps and cheers, and Jace shifts in his seat to fully face the stage. “This is a song about feeling a connection with someone, and not knowing when things went wrong, only that they did. And wondering if maybe it was all in your head the whole time...”

Jace feels his throat tighten at those words. He doesn’t have to be a genius to piece together the lyrics Simon starts to sing, fitting them to their lives the past few months, the hope of getting to know someone you’re starting to like, the confusion of being shut out, the uncertainty of wondering if they ever felt the same way you did or if they were just humoring you.

Jace knows Simon well enough to know that this isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

Against his better judgment, Jace stays. He stays until the set is over and the lights come on and Simon looks out around the crowd and makes direct eye contact with him.

Because fuck it. He’s leaving in the morning, and if this is all for nothing then he’ll never see Simon again and it won’t matter. But if he’s right…

Jace hangs back, watching Simon smile and laugh and sign CDs and take photos, acutely aware of every time the musician’s eyes wander over to where Jace lingers by the bar. Outside of the fading buzz from the alcohol it almost feels normal: hanging back after the show, watching Simon and waiting for him to make his way over once the crowd disperses. Hell, even the butterflies in Jace’s stomach aren’t new.

“You’re here,” Simon says when he finally makes his way over. “I didn’t think you’d come, since… I mean…”

“I heard your new song,” Jace forces the words out before he can change his mind. “I’d say I liked it, but that seems like the wrong response from the guy who made you think you did something wrong.”

“Not everything is about you,” Simon argues, but the intent falls flat beneath the nervous tremor the words are spoken with.

“No,” Jace agrees easily. “But that song is.”

Simon hesitates, then sighs. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me, Jace. You were doing your job, that’s-”

“No. I’m sorry I was going to leave without telling you that I like you. I thought I’d leave and you’d never see me again, that it’d be pointless to get attached. I thought you were just… being nice. Because you’re a good person.” The words spill out of Jace before he can overthink them.

“You like me,” Simon repeats incredulously. “That totally makes sense with, you know, the way you completely stopped talking to me.”

Jace can hear the anger in Simon’s voice and winces slightly. Just because it’s entirely deserved doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“I figured it’d be easier to walk away once this was all over if we weren’t as friendly.” It’s still a shitty thing to have done, and Jace wouldn’t blame Simon for holding it against him. But after hearing that song he couldn’t walk away with Simon thinking it was over anything he did wrong. No matter the cost to Jace’s pride, Simon deserves that much. “And… maybe I was a little afraid that if I got much closer I’d want to cross a line I knew I couldn’t.”

“So you felt it too?” Simon’s words and expression are full of so much hope that Jace almost panics again. What if he isn’t half the person Simon thinks he is after getting to know him in this little bubble of theirs from the past few months? What if he messes this up?

...what if he doesn’t?

“I did,” Jace finally admits. “I still do. And I know I probably ruined any chance I had before, but if I haven’t fucked things up too badly, maybe once you’re back in New York we could meet up for coffee?”

Simon smiles, brighter than the house lights that fill the small venue now.

“Or… or you could stay with me for the last few shows? I wasn’t just being nice for the sake of being nice - I like you, Jace. I changed my hotel routine for you! I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I don’t know if you have to go back right away for work, or something, but if you don’t I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. Your company.”

Jace considers it for a few long moments, then nods. It’s fitting, he thinks, to drop the formalities and the professional distance in the same setting he started to fall for Simon in. The same setting in which Simon started to fall for him, despite Jace’s best efforts to dissuade him, only this time with no excuses to hold him back. And if Simon’s willing to give him an actual shot after everything, he’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you to lug all your equipment around by yourself, can I?” Jace says, smiling. “Let me check back in with the office tomorrow morning but I don’t have anything scheduled. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

There’s a pause then, the air between them filled with an almost electric buzz of anticipation. Simon takes the first step closer, bridging the gap between them. There’s no questioning what Simon’s thinking when his eyes dart down to Jace’s lips and back up to meet his gaze again before speaking.

“Can I-”

Before Simon can finish, Jace’s lips are already on his in response. It’s slow and tentative, with each of them feeling the other out, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. When they pull away after a few moments Simon can’t keep the smile off his face. “That was even better than I imagined.”

Jace quirks an eyebrow, smirking fully now. “You imagined us kissing?”

“Shut up and help me load the van.”

The familiar banter and Simon’s easy smile are such an immediate comfort for Jace that he can’t help the light laugh he gives in response. As Simon looks back at Jace it’s with an expression so soft and full of kindness that Jace knows now isn’t the same look he reserves for everyone else.

Jace knows it’s a look reserved only for him this time - and with any luck, for many more times to come.

[et-lesailes]

beard of greys

pairing: chris evans x wife!reader

word count: 1929

summary: chris is insecure about getting older. you assure him he has nothing to worry about.

themes: fluff, smut, family life

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly,  @denisemarieangelina,  @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb

notes: get early access to my oneshots on patreon! and thank you to @thewritingdoll​ for the graphic!

Chris couldn’t help but watch you with loving eyes as you got your three-year-old twin girls dressed for daycare as he held the youngest daughter of the Evans clan in his arms. “Eliana, do you want to bring your red sippy cup or your purple one to school today?” you asked, and the little brunette chirped happily, “Purple please, mama!” Kinsley perked up, tilting her head. “Can I bring my blue one?”

“I think that one’s in the dishwasher, sweetheart. What about green? That’s your second favorite color, isn’t it?” Chris smiled at his daughter, and she nodded her head happily. “Yeah, green!” He couldn’t be more fortunate to have such sweet and easygoing children, and it appeared little Nova would be the same way given her relaxed temperament; the ten-month-old only cried if she was hungry or had a soiled diaper.

You finished buttoning up Kinsley’s dress, standing up and looking down at them satisfied. “Adorable,” you cooed, chuckling softly as they started twirling around as if modeling their outfits. “Babe, can you get ‘em all in the car? I’ll go fill their cups.” Chris nodded immediately, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Of course, sweetheart. Come on, girls, don’t forget your backpacks!” He watched fondly as Eli picked up her ladybug bag and Kinsley, her bumblebee one, before they toddled out of the room and towards the front door of the house. He followed after as he bounced the little infant in his arms, making her giggle and squeal in delight.

“Bye-bye, babies! We’ll see you later!” You waved to your little ones in their classroom before going back out to the parking lot where Chris was waiting, getting back in the passenger’s seat. You glanced in the mirror to check on Nova, who was looking outside the window with wide blue eyes. “Look at her. I can’t believe we made her,” you whispered lovingly, reaching over to squeeze your husband’s hand once he pulled out of the school. He smiled, though barely tugged on his lower lip with his teeth. “I know. She’s absolutely beautiful. You all are.” 

You smiled but looked up at him curiously, tilting your head. “Something on your mind, Chris? You seem a little out of it this morning.” He sighed softly; it was both a blessing and a curse that you could read him so well. “No, nothing really,” he shrugged it off, “I was, uh, just thinking about maybe shaving today actually.”

“Huh?” You looked at him in confusion. “Is it for an audition or something?” As far as you knew, he didn’t have any upcoming projects or roles; he had been going easy with acting ever since having children, and he generally liked having his beard. “No… just figured I’d mix it up a little, ya know?” he tried, but you frowned lightly, lifting a brow. “Alright, now how about you tell me the real reason?”

He sighed again, looking somewhat guilty as he glanced over at you. “I dunno, I just… feel like it makes me look old.” You blinked, looking almost shocked. “What? What do you mean, old? Like, grandpa old? You look sexy as fu-” you paused, glancing back at your baby before correcting yourself, “You look so sexy with a beard. Why would you think you look old?” He barely chuckled but still looked a little glum as he rubbed at his facial hair. “Haven’t you seen the grey hairs growing in? I mean, I’m almost forty, babe, I think you forget sometimes that I’m not as young as you are…”

You scoffed and squeezed his hand lightly. “I forget because you’re still just as spirited, ambitious, and playful as someone as “young as I am”, okay? And, just for the record, forty is not old. Chris, look at you, you’re in amazing shape, you’re such an active father, you’re still working, and you still know how to party whenever we go out. And--” you smirk, reaching out to gently graze his beard, “I think the grey hairs look hot. It’s like… a classy, matured kind of look, you know?” 

He arched an eyebrow, glancing at you to see if you were being genuine. “You’re not only saying all of that to make me feel better, are you?” You frowned, shaking your head immediately. “Of course not, babe. I mean it, really. Why are you so insecure about it? This isn’t like you.”

“I guess I’m also just… worried we won’t be able to have any more children. I mean, what if I’m too old to? We’ve always dreamed about having a family, what if I’m the one who ruins that dream?”

He pulled into the driveway but you turn to take both of his hands once he’s parked, looking at him seriously. “Babe, there are men out there having children in their fifties. Yes, maybe if anything it’s slightly less likely in your forties, but I doubt it’ll be a problem for us. And-- even if it is, look at the wonderful kids we have now. We’re not going to die if we can’t have another one, we already have such a perfect family as it is. Right?”

He bit his lip, looking at you and forcing a smile. “Right…” 

You could still tell he wasn’t feeling particularly great, and you sighed softly. “Please, baby, don’t keep dwelling on this. You are the perfect husband and father, and I think you only get sexier each and every day, alright? That’s the honest truth. You don’t need to shave, you look perfectly fine the way you are-- you know I love your beard.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He apologized, then looked into the backseat when Nova started babbling loudly, a smile barely crossing his lips. “C’mon, we should go inside.”

You nodded and got out of the car, though you watched him as he unbuckled your youngest daughter from her carseat. He was definitely still not feeling completely better just yet, and you hated it. You hated seeing him sad or insecure, especially when he had no reason to be-- how could he not see how ridiculously handsome he was, grey hairs or not?

As nap time came around and Nova was settled into her crib fast asleep, you had an idea. Perhaps you just needed to prove to Chris just how attractive you still found him.

“Hey, baby.” You called out softly, stepping into the master bedroom. Chris was currently putting away the clothes from the dryer, his back to the door. “Hey--” he started to respond, but when he turned to look at you, his jaw practically dropped. You smirked as you let him admire your figure dressed in nothing but lacy black lingerie you had been saving for a rainy day.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured, stepping closer to him and gently running your fingers along the collar of his shirt, “that it’s about time you see just how sexy I think you are.” You caressed his beard gently with your thumb, kissing at his jawline lightly. “And I was also thinking about something else.”

“What’s… what’s that, baby?” he mumbled clearly distracted, forgetting all about the laundry as he slowly tilted his head to look down at you. “I think I’m ready for baby number four.” You whispered, rubbing his chest as you peered up at him with excited eyes. “The twins are already so independent, Nova’s beginning to walk-- and we wanted a big family, right? With our angels close in age, so they’ll hopefully get along even better?” You bit your lip, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Maybe this time we’ll have a boy…”

He barely groaned, watching as you ran your fingers over his bare chest, shrugging his shirt off himself. “A little boy… that would be… fucking perfect.” He held your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he rubbed your hips slowly and sensually. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You’re ready to do this again?” You nodded your head, never more sure of anything in your life. “I’m ovulating, Chris, it’s the perfect time. I want this… I want you. I want to be a mama of four, and I want you to make it happen. You smirked, and that was all he needed to hear; he attacked your lips roughly, kissing you with the passion and confidence you knew he had. “There’s my man,” you murmured playfully, eager to kiss him back just as fiercely as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He brought you to the bed and laid you down on your back, moving his mouth down to kiss and suck on your neck as he ran one hand over your thigh, cupping your heated sex as he growled into your skin. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he muttered huskily, nipping at your jaw with a little dark smirk; this was exactly the Chris you had been hoping to bring out. “I can’t wait to put another baby in you, sweetheart… you look so sexy when you’re pregnant, carrying my child…”

You moaned as he rubbed your entrance, his thumb teasing your clit. “You all wet for me already, baby doll? Fuck, you look so beautiful like this.” You whimpered in pleasure as he expertly moved his fingers, getting you ready for his thick shaft- you could already see the bulge forming in his pants. “Fuck me, Chris,” you begged, your voice breathless. “I want your cum inside me right now!” 

He groaned simply from hearing you, hastily reaching down to unzip his pants. Pumping himself, he guided his length to your entrance and pressed against you, blue eyes focused on your facial expression as he tugged on his lower lip with his teeth. “Oh, you’re going to get it, baby,” he breathed out, his voice low and guttural, “you don’t have to worry about that.” 

He thrust himself inside you, a hoarse groan escaping his throat as he began bucking his hips. You moaned in delight as you tilted your head back, moving your hands to grip his shoulder blades upon his well defined back muscle, rocking your own hips back up against his. “Chris! Mm, fuck that’s so good, you’re so big!” He smirked weakly as he continued pounding into you, staring down into your eyes in pure awe and lust. “You always feel so good around my cock baby… god I love you so fucking much!” You had to physically restrain yourself from being too loud so that little Nova wouldn’t wake up, even resorting to biting on the bedsheet; though Chris simply grunted and pushed it aside, leaning down to muffle your moans with his lips as he kissed you passionately. 

You nearly bit his lip when you felt your orgasm tear through you, back lifting off the mattress and toes curling tight as you let out breathless moans and gasps into his mouth. He groaned and moved to bury his head in your neck, kissing and sucking all over as he jerked his hips forward, hissing as he kept them pressed against yours once he came, ensuring he filled you up just as promised. His body soon relaxed once he was done, though he stayed inside you as he leaned down to kiss you softly. “That was amazing, as usual,” he muttered lowly against your lips, and you smiled as you touched his beard lightly, eyes gazing at it with love. 

And you think you’re too old,” you scoffed softly, shaking your head. “Trust me, Daddy, you have nothing to worry about.”

[spookysmujer]

Cherry, O.Diaz

Summary: Oscar and Y/N have been casually hooking up for sometime now and when feelings get too involved, true colors come to show.

warnings: mentions of sex, angst

word count: 2.9k

A/N: sorry for the delay of content! Twin and I have been really cracking on an upcoming project she is working on. Y’all don’t even know the investment we have into it 🤣 This idea came to me, I’m emo for this angst shit + Spooky, strayed from my original plan but oh well. I notice y’all like the cute fluff fic with him, would you like to see more fluff with Oscar? Let me know! I’ll be getting to the Sad Eyes request soon 😘

If someone had told you you would be doing hook-ups with Spooky, you’d laugh at them. The two of you had known each other growing up in Freeridge, not close but also not strangers. He definitely flirted with you a lot. But nothing ever ensued, especially not after he was sent to Corcoran for 4 years.

It wasn’t until a few months after he got out that the two of you bumped into each other at the little corner liquor store. The devilishly handsome look he had on his face began the little thing you two have going on. No strings, just sex. And it’s gotten you two awfully close.

The clock on the nightstand blares 5:32am as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes, not that you got much anyways with recent activities. “Always running away before the sun comes up.” You hear the deep voice of the tattooed man next to you. A smirk creeps on your face as you stand to get dressed. You only get your undergarments on when he pulls you back down and lazily climbs on top of you.

“Com’n I’ve gotta go, I open today.”

You tell him as he kisses your neck, which always makes you weak. He ignores you for a bit but eventually rolls off of you, licking his lips with satisfaction.

He lays back and watches you put on your clothes, bummed that the weekend came and went by so quickly. Oscar likes having this little ruse between the two of you. It allows him to be satisfied and not have to deal with all the relationship shit, hynas be trippin’ and clingy as fuck with him.

“Come back tonight.” He calls out to you as you pull your hair into the bun and walk out of his room. You shake your head and laugh to yourself.

Friday and Saturday nights are usually designated for the tootin’ and bootin’ as Oscar likes to put it. It was good for you too. The stress of trying to keep up with bills and student loans has you working doubles almost 3 times a week. You definitely needed some kind of hobby, turns out sex is a great one.

“Fun night?” Your co-worker tells you as you two go through a 10 hour shift. You roll your eyes which are focused on the screen in front of you. But she doesn’t stop staring at you, waiting for an answer. After only being about to take so much daggers, you twist your chair to her and pull down your top a bit to show the hickies that scatter over your chest. Her cheeks tighten with a large smile. “Oh yeah, fun night.”

It wasn’t a secret that you and Oscar are sleeping together. Like everyone else’s business in Freeridge, people were aware the two of you shacking it up. “Man can’t keep his hands off ya!”

“He definitely likes to mark his territory for sure.” You reply as she has a giddy moment.

The work day goes by quickly thanks to working with your favorite co-worker. It’s open to close day for you and when the familiar red impala pulls into the parking lot, your body had a natural reaction to tingle. “Look what the cat dragged in and you telling me that y’all aren’t a thing? I don’t know what booty call comes to his booty calls work place to pick her up, I know I wouldn’t be doing all that just to get some.”

Oscar showing up definitely makes it look like it’s more than just casual sex, he says it’s because he’s a gentlemen at the very least. The same guy who will spank your ass raw and tell you keep your mouth shut.

After closing and walking your co-worker to her car and waving her by, you get into the car where a tank-top dressed Santo drags on a blunt. He puffs out the smoke before flicking it out of the window. You set your things at your feet, “Wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“It’s how I know you’d come back tonight.” He puts his arm on the seat behind you. The look he gives you, a look with absolutely no effort, makes you shift in your seat. “What?”

He shakes his head, licking his lips and tilting his head for you to move closer. With a sigh, you scoot over right next to him. His other arm leans across him and settles his hand on your thigh. Oscar tilts his head down and plants an open mouth kiss on your neck, instinctively your head moves to the side. With his hand caressing your thigh, you totally forget you are in a public area. And you’re getting aroused quickly. When his hand starts to creep closer to your heat, you grab it and scoot away slightly. He looks up at you with a bothered face.

“We really gonna do it here?”

Oscar only shrugs and pushes you back to him with his arm draped on the seat. It’s like your body has no control to his touch. His lips press against yours, slow at first then more needy soon after. His free hand pulls your farther thigh to get you pressed more against him. And at this point, you’re horny and well, no one is around.

You release from the kiss to straddle his lap and pull off your top. He bites his lips seeing all the marks he had left on you from the weekend. A low moan sounds from him as he pushes his face into your chest, pressing hot kisses to the bruised skin. His teeth scrapes against your covered breast, while you unhook your bra.

“Hmmm, fine ass hyna. Nothin’ new.”

-

After the scandalous public car sex Oscar tells you he hopes to hear from you soon. With your flustered state, you drive home in a haze. Once you get home, you lean against your front door, still feeling the numbness on your lips from all the kissing. You didn’t know how you got to this point. The careless sex and the amount of it you’re having. You didn’t think how much further it could go.

“I’m telling you. He has claimed you and soon enough, without even knowing it? You’re his girlfriend and living in the Santo Trap house!”

Your younger sister tells you as the two of eat breakfast the next morning. She is constantly getting at you about how your friends with benefits situation will evolve to something more. More serious and more dangerous.

“For the last time, we agreed on just sex. Nothing more, nothing less.” You explain her to which she only rolls her eyes at you. “He leads the Santos. You think I wanna date someone like that?”

She scoffs, “But you fucking him? Spends the night? Picks you up? What about that time he dropped off your glasses? Hm? He knew you were going back to his place yet he drove and took his personal time to bring them to you. Keep lying to yourself but at this point, one of you is feeling something.”

She stands from the table and leaves you to finish up. You play around with your food and try to shake any ‘whatifs’ from your mind. Oscar didn’t seem like the type to care about the relationship part, just the sex.

As another work week had gone by, and multiple texts from Oscar asking if you were free to stop by but you kindly denied because of how tired you were. It’s Friday night and you’re contemplating whether to go over to his place or take the time to recuperate. You didn’t have much time to thoroughly think when your phone rings and Oscars name pops up.

“Well well well the devil himself.”

He chuckles into the speaker, “Hola Mami, whatchu doing?”

“Hm, trying to think if I have enough stamina to come over.” You roll over on your bed, “I could use some convincing.”

You can practically hear the smile in his voice, “The temptation mamas. How about we get some 40s and drive around for a bit?”

“Sure, I’ll be ready in 10.”

You didn’t think much of it, but some free drinks convinced you enough to go with.

Oscar picks you up soon after you change. You weren’t paying enough attention to notice the warmth of his cheeks along with his signature side smile as you get in. A brown paper bag sitting between you that carry the 40s and you’re off out of Freeridge. You have no idea where you’re headed but the scenery is nice as the dark night passes by.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking lot that sits in front of a beach. The moon shines against the water that looks like its out of a movie, he pulls out the drinks and hands one to you.

“How was work this week?”

“Long as hell.”

He wipes his chin, trying to loosen the restrain of his smile, “Had to be, dodged me all week long.” You look over to him, your smile forming as your shake your head at his comment.

“Well, I did say I could be convinced to go over you your place tonight but you wanted to come out here like we’re 18 or something.” Taking a long gulp from the bottle, you lick your lips.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute before striking up another conversation. To which leads you two talking for a while not even noticing the time go by. When you finally become aware at how much you’ve been talking, you look at the time on his stereo, 3AM blinks. You sigh as you set the empty bottle by your feet.

Oscar leads against the car door, watching you as you stretch and look out at the water.

You finally look over at him,“What?”

He looks away and smiles to himself, “I’m just trying to figure it out, that’s all.” You look at him confused considering there was no prior conversation.

“How you got me to take you here. I don’t take anyone here, I only brought mi hermano out here once. Y’know, deep convos and shit. Special place and all. So I’m tryna figure it out.”

As you pay attention to how he tells you this, your mind instantly goes back to the conversation you had with your sister that morning. How you told her that this thing is nothing but an itch to scratch. But now? You hear your sister saying, one of you is feeling something.

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter in your seat. “Um, maybe it’s on your bucketlist to get a hyna to have sex on the beach?” A chuckle escaping you but Oscar doesn’t react much to the joke.

He didn’t know where he was going with this. Hell, he never had a problem with the ladies, ever. Not in high school before he became the leader of the Santos and certainly not after. But most of the hynas he been with truly were a ‘toot it and boot it’ situation. And for the last few weeks, that’s all it had been with you. But as the week had passed by and you weren’t there, he started to think. To think about the what if’s: you not needing to sneak out for work or having real conversations about things like hopes and shit. Oscar realized that maybe he wanted more than just sex with you.

“Nah, sand gets everywhere. Y/N... this thing we got. I’ve been here before, sorry to say but a lot times and usually, they come and go but nena.. you really got me thinking about shit other than just sex.”

Usually, the confession of love for you would give you butterflies. But because of the life he led, it terrified you, “Oscar.. the thing we have, it’s good. It works for us both, I mean granted we lead two different lives... it fits in well. You were the one who dominantly established this was going to be no strings. Sounds like you are saying that’s what you want... strings?”

“What could be so wrong with that? Is it hard to believe a man like me could want that?”

You let of a breath, turning your body to him, “You lead a gang. A group of people who try to rid the streets of violence... with violence. Do you see how that’s fighting fire with fire?”

Oscar kisses his teeth and his body language changes in a snap. He is constantly being looked at like a big bad guy, when really he truly did care for his community. His way of life is a tricky one, sure. But people always looked at how he handled things rather than the fact that he handled them. And now with you using that as a reason for how a guy like him could want something like a real relationship, Spooky is peaking.

“Anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” His voice snappy and dripping with venom. Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting like he just dissed you at prom or something.

“I usually don’t, but when the cover got bullet holes? I know it’s not the Bible I’m reading.” You snap back, not liking how he suddenly changed his demeanor. How he went from sappy to snappy in an moment. Typical Spooky, you thought.

Oscar only wipes his face, straightening in his seat and turning the key in the ignition. The impala roars to life and he switches the gear to reverse. Much like the ride to the beach, it’s quiet going back to the familiar hood. The atmosphere is cold and chilling. You have your arms crossed over your chest. This definitely not how you foresaw this night going.

As he pulls in front of your house, he still doesn’t say anything. You sit there for a moment and watch him, he grows impatient, waiting for you to get out, “Need me to open the door for you or something?”

The snap in his voice makes you scoff, “A gentlemen at the least would do it. You really gonna be like this? Because I don’t feel comfortable to make it more than what it is.”

Again no answer. With that NOT being said, you fly the door open and close it. You weren’t even given another second before he speeds off and away from your residence. With an audible groan, you march back into your house, cursing to yourself for getting involved with him.

-

The next couple of days went by as normal. You worked your shifts, went to the gym, spent a night out with your sister to whom you didn’t mention anything about the blow up between you and Oscar, dinner and repeat. But in the back of your mind, it gnawed. When you lay in bed getting ready to sleep and the little doors begin to open. What will I eat for lunch tomorrow? When is the electric bill due again? What is Oscar doing? That one comes up more than your usual wonders. There were a few times where you stare at your phone, finger hovering over his contact name but nothing.

As another weekend approached you thought about it again, you even made the effort to see him but when you drove by his place, seeing that his car wasn’t, you kept on driving.

“The fuck are you doing, Y/N?” You tell yourself as you sit in the parking lot of the beach you were at with him nearly a week ago. It’s a sad attempt to go crawling back, really. But when those thoughts crept up to you, you replayed the words you said to him. You spoke to him with such judgement, something you hate about others doing to yourself. Because you weren’t some random hyna. You do know him and truthfully he isn’t a bad person even labeled the elicit Spooky, gang leader of the Santos.

A sigh escapes you, the ring in your ear as you wait for him to pick up. Maybe after your failed attempts to make contact, he’d answer. But to avail.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. It’s been a week and we haven’t really talked or seen each other. I, uh, drove pass your place and you weren’t home and I wanted to call but figured you might have been busy,” You roll your eyes at yourself. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how I said things. Though I stand by what I said I could have been kinder with my words. I don’t like when people use my image to assume who I am. You aren’t the big bad wolf who blows the houses down, matter of fact you’re probably the one who picks up the houses after... um, so I’m sorry. With how I look at you, I thought being with him would be a mistake waiting to happen but if you think there could be something worth trying... maybe you can convince me. Call me back.”

Oscar listens to the voicemail as soon as he gets notified of it. He sits at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. The cold air hitting his bare back, he sighs.

He feels hands rub over his shoulders and onto his chest, a hot breath on his neck. “What’s the point of being in Sin City, if we aren’t constantly sinning?” Leti’s voice in his ear as she reaches to take his phone, tossing it aside. She scoots off the bed and pushes him back, climbing to straddle him.

Oscar begins to regret making this trip to Vegas as a means to get over you.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01​ @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

[xbeautifulunseenx]

The NYADA Vegans Club

Summary: A cute guy catches Blaine’s eye and draws him to a meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club. Except Blaine is very, definitely not a vegan.

Read on AO3

"This meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club is now in session!"

Blaine jumped as the sound of a gavel hitting wood cracked through the air. The NYADA Vegans Club? Had he heard that right?

When he had followed that hot freshman guy into the room, he'd hoped it would be a meeting for something much more in line with his interests. He couldn't honestly sit through a meeting of a club that actively promoted not eating cheese for a guy he knew nothing about. Could he?

"I see many new faces this year, so let's go around and introduce ourselves. I'm Jay, the president of the NYADA Vegans. I've been a vegan for six years. And you?" Jay gestured to where Blaine stood half in and half out the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

Blaine saw the hot guy give a small laugh at his expense as he tried to decide whether he was coming or going.

Coming, he decided upon making eye contact with his new crush.

"I'm Blaine and being vegan is something I've dedicated my life to."

He didn't know where the lie came from, but there was no taking it back once it was out. He watched as the guy's friend —a cute, small, brunette — poked his arm and made no secret of winking pointedly in Blaine's direction.

Introductions continued around the room until Blaine learned that the hot guy was named Kurt, a baby vegan of just 6 months, and his friend was named Rachel, a fellow lifelong vegan.

Blaine hadn't given much consideration to what might happen at a vegan club meeting, so he couldn't say he was surprised when anti-animal product PSAs began playing on a large screen in the room. Shortly after the videos ended, they were instructed to break, and when the meeting resumed, they would be writing letters to local restaurants encouraging the use of more vegan products.

With the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs, Blaine walked over to where Kurt and Rachel were helping themselves to cups of almond milk and dairy-free cookies.

"There he is!" he heard Rachel whisper loudly to Kurt. "Say hi!"

"Oh my god, Rachel, way to be discreet. Hi," Kurt said, extending his hand toward Blaine. "I'm Kurt, and this is Rachel, who has yet to master the art of subtlety."

Kurt's hand felt warm and perfect in his. "Blaine."

"We remember. The lifelong vegan. Impressive."

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the lie. "Thanks. So are you two freshmen? I think I recognize you from orientation."

"Oh phew," Kurt pretended to wipe his brow. "I thought I recognized you from orientation, too, but I didn't want to be the first creep to admit it."

Blaine blushed and looked at his feet, trying to figure out how to run from the room and never see Kurt again without looking like too much of a loser.

"Relax, Blaine." Kurt laughed and put a reassuring hand on his bare forearm. "I was kidding."

"Oh thank god, I thought I was going to have to switch schools."

They all laughed at Blaine's dramatics and continued on with a light conversation. Blaine was thrilled to notice that Kurt's eyes lingered on him as they spoke, and that he laughed the loudest at Blaine's jokes.

They chatted through the letter writing activity and stayed long past the end of the meeting, discussing their histories with show choir and their favorite musicals and what their upcoming college career could hold in store.

When they finally parted to go home to apartments on opposite sides of the city, Blaine couldn't deny that following Kurt into that meeting was the best dumb choice he'd ever made.

Blaine went back for the next meeting, and then the next. The subject matter may have been less than stimulating, but the scenery was gorgeous and the conversation wasn't bad either. He and Kurt were having a great time getting to know each other, but neither came right out and flirted openly or made plans outside of Vegan Club. Instead, they sent each other looks with dopey smiles on their faces when they thought nobody was paying attention, and blushed bashfully when they were caught.

When it became clear that neither of them would be making any moves, Rachel took it upon herself to intervene. She invited Blaine over for a five course vegan meal at her and Kurt's loft, and he accepted immediately.

While Blaine saw the merits of vegan products, and had even thoroughly enjoyed some of the snacks offered at Vegan Club, he couldn't say he was looking forward to an entirely vegan meal. But he was one to try anything, and since Kurt — who somehow got more attractive every time they saw each other — was involved, he would definitely be trying Rachel's feast.

"Blaine's here!" he heard Rachel yell from the other side of the door. He tightened his already too-tight grasp on the wine he'd had his roommate buy for him and waited for someone to answer his knock.

The heavy door slid open, and Blaine couldn't decide if he should stare at Kurt or the apartment. Kurt, as usual, won out.

"You look amazing," he said as he pulled a surprised, but flattered, Kurt into a hug.

"Thank you, so do you."

"Your apartment is incredible," Blaine gushed, looking around. "It's giving me chic RENT vibes."

"Kurt decorated most of it," Rachel told him from her spot by the stove. She lifted the spoon she was holding. "Broccoli vegan cheddar soup! Are you ready to eat?"

It turned out that vegan cheddar was not exactly Blaine's preferred cheese. And that meatless meatloaf wasn't his preferred entrée. There was a little hope for the vegan strawberry cheesecake. At least, it looked mouthwatering.

"Kurt made this one," Rachel announced as she set the plates in front of them. "He worked on it all last night, so I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Blaine took a bite and closed his eyes with the overwhelming deliciousness of the cake.

"Wow, Kurt, I've never had a vegan dessert so good. You've got to share the recipe with me!"

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, secret family recipe."

"Oh well, guess you'll just have to keep making it for me, then," Blaine teased. He stood and headed to the kitchen. "Shall I get the new bottle of wine from the fridge?"

"No!" Kurt said, a little too loudly, pushing back from the table and beating Blaine to the fridge, standing in front of it. "You're our guest. Please sit and I'll get it."

Blaine returned to the table to find Rachel trying her best to hide a laugh, but he didn't ask.

After the dessert plates were cleared, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. At first, Blaine had thought Rachel was acting as Kurt's wingman by asking him to their apartment for dinner and a movie, and that she'd do the classic "I'm going to bed" and slip away to leave the two men alone, but she never did. She stayed the entire movie, curled up on the other side of Kurt. Blaine rested his hand on the couch next to him, inching his way toward where Kurt's hand lay, brushing their fingers together every so often and sending a jolt of excitement though his arm. He wanted to chance putting an arm around Kurt, but with Rachel so close, it would have been awkward.

By the time he hugged the two roommates goodnight and left, Blaine knew he couldn't waste any more time. He was going to ask Kurt out.

———

After enduring another excruciatingly boring Vegan Club meeting, Blaine finally asked Kurt on a date. His heart soared when Kurt said yes without hesitation.

That Saturday evening, Blaine and Kurt met in front of the student center on campus. After overtly admiring each other for a few seconds, Kurt spoke up.

"I'm really glad you had the balls to ask me out. I put on a good show of confidence, but when it comes to boys, that's all it is — a show. If you hadn't asked, we'd probably still be staring at each other all cutesy and pretending we only like each other as friends two years down the road."

"I'm glad too, then. I'm not afraid to make big moves. They almost always backfire on me somehow, but…" he shrugged. "Can't win if you never play the game!"

Kurt gave a laugh-snort. "You're like a walking motivational poster."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him seriously. "You've gotta risk it to get the biscuit."

Their laughter carried them all the way to the restaurant, a small bistro tucked away from most of the nearby foot traffic.

Cozied up in the round, plush booth where they were directed, the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order.

"I'll have the house salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a cup of the vegan minestrone soup, please," Blaine said, longing for something more substantial, but selecting the only vegan options on the menu.

Kurt gave him a weird look, then ordered for himself. "I would like the filet mignon."

Blaine's smile faltered. "What? Kurt! Are you falling off the wagon?"

"I need to tell you something." Kurt turned to Blaine, their waiter temporarily forgotten. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, vegan. I was only at Vegan Club that night because I promised Rachel I would go with her to the first meeting. Then I couldn't stop going because of...well, you."

Kurt's face looked terrified, like he was worried Blaine might up and leave the date due to his confession. Instead, Blaine laughed.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Kurt seemed confused yet relieved.

"I've never been vegan a day in my life either. I'd noticed you from day one of orientation and I thought you were the cutest guy I'd ever seen. So I followed you into Vegan Club without knowing it was Vegan Club, because I thought you'd be more likely to go out with me if we shared interests."

"Oh my god. You can't be serious." Kurt was wheeze-laughing so hard he collapsed into Blaine's chest. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and pulled him closer before remembering the waiter who was slowly backing away from their table with an amused expression.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "I'd like to change my order to the six cheese pizza, if that's okay."

That only made Kurt lose it even further. "I can't believe this." He settled down enough that he straightened out and looked into Blaine's eyes. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Blaine responded.

"And we're perfect together," they sang the Wicked line at the same time.

The magic of the moment led them into a tender first kiss that knocked them sideways until Blaine pulled back just enough to whisper, "That amazing cheesecake you made last week wasn't really vegan, was it?"

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Three: Hold Me Up

Summary: Sebastian filled Y/N in on the upcoming custody issues.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2065 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

Photo Credit

After dinner, they gathered together in the family room to watch The Little Mermaid, at Milena’s request. They popped popcorn and had root beer floats — they were all full to the brim by bedtime. Milena wanted to watch another movie, so they started Despicable Me, but the family was asleep before the movie was half over. Anthony and Georgeta took Milena to bed with them, leaving Y/N and Sebastian to clean up from the snacks and shut the house down. 

Y/N shouldered her bag and switched from one foot to the other, nervous for some reason. She waited for Sebastian to be done in the kitchen, then asked if she should stay in the guest room. 

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine, or you could — you could stay with me. If you want to. You don’t have to.”

“I mean, I don’t — if you want to be alone, I don’t want to …” She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, then chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I feel nervous about this. We’ve slept in the same bed before, no problem. Maybe because it’s your parents’ house.”

Sebastian smirked. He loved the traditional, old-fashioned parts of her upbringing that would randomly show up in conversation or shine through in her preferences. He pulled his head in the direction of the room that would always be his in the house. 

“C’mon, Bright Eyes, let’s get some sleep.” 

Y/N smiled, grateful that he made the decision for her. She used the main bathroom in the hallway to wash her face and brush her teeth, and change from her jeans and t-shirt to a cotton nightgown. She packed her toiletries back into her bag and tiptoed back to Sebastian’s room. He was sitting up in bed, checking messages on his phone. 

“Who in the world would be messaging you this late with everything going on?” Y/N asked, dropping her bag next to the dresser before climbing into the big, comfy bed. She fluffed the pillow a couple of times, then lay on her side, facing Sebastian. 

He shook his head. “No one, I’m just catching up on some things I missed. Mostly people checking in, asking how the service went. Hey, do you wanna go have a coffee with me in the morning?”

“You don’t want to have breakfast with your parents and Milena?”

“I’m sure they’re all going to sleep late. Thought it might be nice to get out for just a little bit.”

Y/N nodded. “Sure, whatever sounds good to you.”

Sebastian plugged his phone into the charger then, and turned off the bedside lamp. He leaned over to kiss her forehead, thanking her again for being there with him. 

“I’m always gonna be here, Seb, whenever you need me,” she assured him through a yawn. “Wake me when you’re ready for coffee in the morning, if I’m not up already.”

Before Sebastian could reply, she was asleep. Smiling to himself, he pulled the covers a little tighter around him and tried to get some rest. 

After a night of restless sleep Y/N woke far earlier than she would have liked the next morning. After half an hour of more tossing and turning trying to go back to sleep, she got up and changed to the running shorts she had packed just in case, her t-shirt from the day before, then slipped into her favorite pair of running shoes — also packed just in case. Careful not to wake anyone else, she downed a glass of water to get some hydration in her system, then let herself out through the front door. 

As she ran through the neighborhood where Georgeta and Anthony lived, she breathed deep, enjoying the fresh air filling her lungs first thing in the morning. Her flight schedule the day before, followed by the immediate activity of the funeral, had left her feeling tired and weighed down. Oh, she wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world, but if she was going to be a support to her friend, she wanted to be refreshed and alert in the coming days. 

How heavy her heart felt for Sebastian; a heaviness that no run could shake off. He had been so close with his sister, so proud of her. Despite their age difference and the fact that she was, in actuality, his half-sister, Y/N had never known Sebastian to treat Irina as anything less than a sister he had grown up with his entire life. When he had called to tell Y/N about the car accident, to ask her to come for the service, his voice had been thick with tears. She had helped him through break-ups and things before, but this was one heartbreak she didn’t know if anyone could help him heal from. 

After a couple miles, she returned to the house. She found towels easily enough and showered in the main bathroom. Once she was dressed, she dealt with her hair and patted some moisturizer on her face. Upon opening the door, she saw a sleepy little girl standing in the hallway, still in Anthony’s t-shirt, her pigtails lopsided, and one chubby hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Well, good morning, princess,” Y/N greeted, quiet but with a smile. “How are you today?”

Milena only nodded and stretched her hands up to be held. Y/N obliged her immediately, taking the girl to the family room for some morning cartoons. Milena sat in Y/N’s lap, curled up and leaning against her chest. Y/N took the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered the both of them with it while they watched. 

Georgeta found them an hour or so later, greeting both girls with a kiss on the cheek. She offered breakfast, which Milena eagerly accepted — especially when she was given the opportunity to help make pancakes — but Y/N informed the other woman of Sebastian’s request that they go for coffee that morning. 

“Maybe I’ll go see if he’s ready to wake up,” she mused, folding the blanket before laying it on the back of the couch where it had been. 

He was facing away from the door, his breathing deep and even. His hair was mussed from quite a bit of tossing and turning himself, and Y/N contemplated if she should wake him or not. Biting her bottom lip, she seated herself on the side of the bed where she had slept the night before. Balancing herself on one arm, she leaned over to run her hands through Sebastian’s thick, brown hair. 

“Mmm.” The sound was scratchy and low in his throat. Y/N smiled and kept doing what she was doing, until he took a deep breath and reached up to catch her hand in his. “That was a really great wake-up call but if you keep doing that, I’m going to fall back asleep real quick.”

She chuckled. “Your mom and Milena are making pancakes. Do you want to eat with them or do you still want to go for coffee?”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. Rolling to his back, he looked up at her and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Yeah, let’s go for coffee, if you don’t mind. I’ll make you more pancakes when we come back, if there aren’t any left.”

Y/N scooted off the bed to give him some privacy while he got ready for them to go out. She joined Georgeta and Milena in the kitchen while she waited, but she didn’t have to wait long. Sebastian had donned a t-shirt and jeans, plopped a baseball cap on his head, found some shoes, and called it good. Y/N wished she could get ready that quickly and that easily. 

“We’re gonna go for coffee, but I don’t think we’ll be gone too long,” Sebastian informed his mother. “Is it all right if I take your car?”

“Sure,” Georgeta agreed. She accepted his kiss to her cheek and smiled when he hugged Milena so tight, the little girl giggled and tried to push out of the hug. 

“I wanna go!” Milena pleaded, dancing around the kitchen. 

Sebastian sighed. “This one’s just for me and Y/N, okay, munchkin? I promise, I’ll take you out, just you and me, soon.”

With her grandmother beginning to flip pancakes, Milena didn’t need much more convincing to stay behind. She climbed up on the footstool she had been using to see what was going on at the counter, her uncle and his friend forgotten for the time being. 

The ride to the coffee shop was quiet. They found a parking spot not too far from the cafe, and Sebastian held tight to Y/N’s hand as they crossed the street. He held the door open for her, paid for their coffees, and then sat across from her at a table with good sunlight but not right next to the window. 

“You sleep okay last night?” he asked. 

Y/N shrugged, savoring the warm feeling of the coffee as she sipped at it. “Tossed and turned a little this morning, so I got up for a run. I’m not too tired right now, though.”

“Good. When we get back, we can hang out for a little bit, then if you need to nap or anything, you should.” He blew on his coffee before taking a drink of the black brew. “So, I know that you know something’s up. After the heated discussion with Alice yesterday, and I’m sure things seemed a little tense when you came back with the food.”

She shrugged. “Yes, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t think much of it.”

He ran a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh. After another drink of his coffee, he plunged into it. “Apparently, Irina told Mom that if anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to take custody of Milena. I don’t know why, and there’s nothing on paper because …”

“Because she was in her mid-twenties and why would she worry that something would happen to her now,” Y/N supplied. 

“Exactly. The Hills — Milena’s other grandparents — want joint custody of her. It just seems like so much back and forth. Obviously, we want to keep whatever pieces of Irina that we can, but we also want to handle things the way she would have wanted them to be handled. They’ve already got a lawyer working on things, apparently, and I’m going to see my lawyer this afternoon. That’s really who I was messaging when we went to bed last night.”

Y/N reached over to squeeze his hand. “Sebastian, you know you’re gonna be great for her, right? Milena loves you — she thinks the world of you. If that’s what your sister wanted, it had to be for good reason.”

“But am I ready for this? Really? A little girl, in my care, who I’m responsible for? Why does that suddenly seem like the most daunting task I’ll ever take on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “The Hills think joint custody with my parents would be better because of my schedule, my job. They know I can provide for her, but they’re concerned she won’t get the attention she deserves.”

“So you’re worried about it, too,” Y/N surmised. “First of all, no one’s ever ready to become a parent. Even with all the preparation in the world, a lot of unexpected things are going to happen. Second, as far as work and giving Milena attention, that’s something you can balance. You can find help. I’ve been reading a few scripts, but I’m otherwise between things right now. My next movie doesn’t premiere for another six months. I can help you.”

“I can’t ask you to put your life on hold, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. And even if I wasn’t offering, yes, you can ask. That’s what friends are for.”

He licked his lips and thought it over. The thought that had seeded in his mind the day before sprouted up again; he dismissed it quickly. 

“Maybe we start with you going to the lawyer with me this afternoon, go from there.”

“I think that’s a good plan,” she agreed, taking another drink of her coffee. “But my offer stands, Sebastian. Whatever you need from me, I’m happy to help.”

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​

[aelaer]

Re: Blood in Your Veins

Hey so uh.

As anyone who’s been following me for a while knows, I started the serial “The Blood In Your Veins” about this time last year (it used to be ‘my veins’ but retitled it on its move to AO3 because execution of prompt had changed a bit over writing). It’s a prompt that I couldn’t stop thinking about and just dabbled in slowly to see where it went. Then 2020 fully hit and my writing came to almost a complete stop until about October, which is when I began again on Illuminating the Shadows, which was finished and posted in December.

Anyway, I’ve been poking and prodding fairly continuously at The Blood in Your Veins. The first four parts that I posted originally here on tumblr are now all on AO3, and once part 5′s up I’ll link it here and link everyone who wanted alerts to the updates then so they can see the new part. Then all future parts will be linked here as well.

(Cut because why the *hell* did I write this much about this?)

I’ve been slow in posting because I, against better judgement but why not, decided to post it as a WIP. But that means I keep on making edits to older parts because I think of something new that should be addressed earlier in the story. Like uh, when I was writing part 9, I realized I needed to go back to part 5 and add an addendum. When I was writing part 12, I realized I totally forgot a part that I ended up adding in part 8, because I needed it for a future connection. This happens all the time in my writing and makes posting WIPs almost dangerous because my thinking is rarely linear if the story takes place over a course of more than a couple days. Thus the very slow posting.

So this silly little prompt thing that I was just prodding and poking at to see where it went? The farking doc passed 50k words tonight. Yup.

Granted, like 10k of that is probably outlining, personal notes, and A/Ns filled to the brim with meta, medical science, fake science, and technical/computer engineering because I love talking about it and giving people info to access easily for their own knowledge. I figure I can’t be the only one who finds this stuff super fascinating and fanfic makes it unique in that it’s not a book where the research is irrelevant, you can show off all the interesting stuff right here and talk about it with people! I love that about fanfic, so much. Sometimes the A/Ns are just as interesting as the story in some stories.

So it’s gonna be a bit slow for however long, but I finished 11 parts (with 10 betaed), have the 12th largely written out (though I’m not 100% sure about it yet so I want to poke at it more), and parts uh, 13 to 17ish outlined. But considering I was like “yeah this is 8 parts at most” like, at the beginning of this, that number is bound to change because characters keep saying things and doing things (including the supporting OCs, who are demanding to be fully fleshed out within the bounds of supporting character roles).

And yeah, this is just a ramble of what I’ve been mostly doing as I haven’t been super active on tumblr this month as this has consumed most of my free time. I haven’t read a lot of works either, and once this is completed I hope to remedy that, before I go into my next two big projects (which were meant to be what I was working on *now*, but then this took over and what will you do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to complete three novel-length fics in the course of the year, but I’ll see what I can do. I really want to tell these stories).

Uh, this was really long. Sorry, I’m super verbose and don’t know how to be like, succinct. My old boss, two bosses ago now, used to quote Twain about brevity being a sign of wit, but if it is, call me 100% unwitty because I like to ramble. And then I always feel a little bit guilty for writing *so much* about my bullshit, so I feel like if you read this far, you 100% deserve to read a preview of an upcoming section. Especially since you pressed the Read More button! So here you go, thanks for reading my rambles. This is a section from the longest part so far, part 8. It’s a long little bit!

---

"How high's the toxicity now?" Tony asked as he stepped off the scale.

"Yesterday's blood sample came back at 0.45 milligrams per kilogram of your weight," Stephen replied. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

Tony offered his arm for the blood draw. "And if 3 milligrams is the magic number for fatality, that'd put my current blood toxicity at 15%."

Stephen inserted the needle at the crook of Tony's elbow and watched the tube fill up. "That's not quite how it works."

"It makes sense to me."

"That's still not how it works." He removed the needle and capped the tube, and as he put everything away, explained, "Saying that your blood toxicity is at 15% implies that you're talking about the whole volume of blood in your body. You're probably at about 5,500 milliliters with your weight, and with the density of blood equaling about 1.06 grams per milliliter, it is like you're saying—"

"That 874.5 grams of my blood is toxic, yeah, yeah, I know," Tony interrupted. By now he was setting up the table for their breakfast.

"I was getting there."

"You were going too slow," he shot back easily. Stephen gave the engineer a look at the comment, but Tony ignored it. "Yeah, I know it's not my whole body's blood volume. Obviously. But putting a percentage on how long until I reach the point that I'm dead makes sense to me. I'm not measuring the whole volume of my blood, I'm measuring how much more can I handle until I'm dead."

Stephen shot him a frown. "It doesn't make sense to call it 'blood toxicity' then."

"Maybe not to you, but it does to me. And I'd design such a measuring tool for me."

The statement caught him off guard. "Design?" He finished packing up the kit and joined Tony at the table.

"Well, if I wasn't stuck in here, I'd design something to automatically read a blood sample, like how glucose meters read blood sugar levels. Wouldn't be hard to engineer something like that. And I'd have it give me the amount of toxicity as a percentage relating to how far along it was until the amount was lethal. Sure, I could memorize the numbers, but the percentage would be more concrete in my head."

Stephen smeared butter over a piece of bread as he listened. He shook his head at the end of Tony's explanation. "Wouldn't work for the consumer market; there's too much room for interpretation as to what the percentage means."

Tony huffed. "Well, like I said, it'd be for me. Not the consumer market."

His brow furrowed. "You're telling me that you can make a blood test as simple as the one used for testing blood sugar levels for something as rare as palladium poisoning?"

He narrowed his eyes. "... yes…"

"You can make it portable like the glucose meters?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And affordable to most hospitals?"

Tony looked up in thought. "I don't usually factor in the costs of materials and manufacturing in personal projects, and others do the number crunching to see if my ideas are viable for production in company projects. If they aren't, but I really want them to be, I'll tinker a bit more, sure."

Stephen couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you realize the amount of money you could save for both hospitals and patients across the country with such technology? Specialized blood tests—like for many metal poisonings, for instance—aren't offered at every hospital. It may not be available even in every state. Those types of lab results can take weeks to get back to a doctor and the patient. And you're saying that you can not only potentially create this type of technology, but that you may be able to make it affordable if you really want them to be?"

"Well yeah, sure. I've done it a few times with other things. I could probably do that with a blood meter thing. I doubt the tech's that complicated."

His mouth was partially hanging open, Stephen realized this, but he couldn't bother at the moment. He was flabbergasted. The first thought that came to mind went to his mouth, unfiltered. "And you spent the last two decades building weapons."

"Don't." The word was sharp and filled with an overabundance of emotion.

Stephen fell silent. He crossed a boundary he had yet to see before now, and he was not so callous as to push against it. Instead he turned to his meal and focused on eating. He avoided looking at the other man.

A couple minutes later, Tony spoke again. It was low, pensive. Thoughtful. "There was a good reason I shut down weapons manufacturing after I got back from Afghanistan, you know. If the department ever comes back, it will be with major restrictions and modifications. Likely more defensive than offensive. More shields, less missiles. But in the meantime I've been restructuring. Expanded in commercial aerospace and industry. We entered the energy market properly. Consumer products is coming soon—end of the year, probably." A pause. "Don't see why we can't look into medical tech, either. Certainly wouldn't hurt to try."

He could only nod and say, "It certainly wouldn't."

[kaioken16]

Just a One time thing

Mallek Week 2021 - Day 4

Day 4: Fashion  Word count: 2130 Rating: Teens and Up Character(s): Mallek Adalov, MSPA Reader, Original character, Bronya Ursama, Remele Namaaq, Lanque Bombyx, Dammek

AO3 link

A/N: It was hard to figure out what to write, as this prompt would better for a drawn piece. But I managed to come up with something. This was inspired by many offices and fashion company-themed AUs. 

sidenote: MSPA Reader will be referred to as 'Sam' as I have a few headcanon names for them that are nonbinary. 

Summary: A day in the office turns upside down by a series of events, Mallek Adalov, graphic designer and production assistant at a fashion company finds himself temporary modeling for a day.

Mallek was working at his computer, he was roaming through many documents, his eyes were beginning to feel heavy as he had to occasionally remove his glasses to rub his eyes. He had been at this for hours, but nothing he couldn’t help. He worked in the marketing and production department for one of the most successful fashion companies all over Prospit city. Not the kind of place that Mallek would work initially, if you had told him back when he was a teenager that he would be working in a company like this, he would’ve laughed and said that was a funny joke.

But that several years ago and he was now fresh out of university and needed a way to pay the bills for his home, his equipment, and his hobbies. So after a few applications and phone calls and a quick interview, he found himself working here. It was new territory, but the work mostly entailed computer-related stuff, from ordering products and material, going over the programs that the designers used, making sure there were no issues. But it paid really well, the hours were agreeable and the people he worked with were nice.

Mallek had been working in the department for over two months now. And today started off as a normal day, a quiet morning there only a few of them in the office, so he could relax while he worked, as he types away an email for the head office, an empty coffee Starbucks cup was on his right side, along with a half-eaten cinnamon raisin bagel.

Suddenly he hears a loud bang which disrupts the silence, making him stand up from his desk, he then hears wails and a loud voice screaming. Was someone hurt?

He rushes over to the location of the screams to find the scene, four people, pieces of paper all over the place, some just hitting the ground. Your good friend Sam, who was carrying the paperwork, and was probably overlooked due to his short height. Remele, one of the designers who was the one screaming, and Bronya who had an annoyed look on her face, Lanque was also on the ground too, rubbing the back of his head.

“Is everything okay?” Mallek speaks, as it was clearly not okay.

“This is a disaster! Oh no, no, no.”  Remele proclaims.

Lanque chuckles awkwardly “Oh no, it’s okay, I think I’m okay-”

“Not you, you piece of meat! My outfit, it’s been stained.” her gaze is fixed on the stains on the suit he was wearing, as it had been stained with either coffee or water.

Sam immediately goes to try and help Lanque. “I am SO sorry about that, I didn’t see you and I was losing my grip on the papers…”

“NO! Don’t touch my creation before you ruin even more!” Remele shouts which make the tiny individual flinch. She was only a few inches taller than them but still very scary.

“Hey, they’re just to help, and you need to chill.” Bronya snaps back, her tone was firm but not yelling as she goes to help Lanque.

“Here lemme help ya their buddy.” Mallek helps Sam gather up their papers.

Just as Lanque is helped back to his feet when he suddenly hisses out in pain. “Ah!”

“What’s wrong?” Bronya asks him, concerned as she can see the pained look on his face.

“I think... I twisted my ankle.” He says as the pressure on his leg sends pain through his limb.

“What?!” Remele’s eyes widened with shock, she then glared at Sam. “So you damaged my outfit and my model?!” She balls her fists, gritting her teeth causing Sam to hide behind Mallek.

“Whoa, take it easy.” Mallek holds his hands up attempting to diffuse the situation.

“Remele, you need to calm down. We will sort this out, I’ll let Rhakei know what’s happened and we’ll deal with it.” Broyna adds.

“Are you kidding me?! She’ll flip and if he can’t walk, how’s gonna do the shoot? We don’t have to get another model here in time.” Remele argues back as their head designer and studio manager ‘Rhakei Nadzas’ was in charge of the shows and was a no-nonsense woman.

“She’ll understand. We have a spare for this outfit, and we’ll get this one cleaned, but first things first we need to get him some first aid.” Broyna’s first priority was to make sure their model was okay.

Remele was still losing it, putting her hands in her hair. “But where are we gonna find someone 6 foot, and can fit into this outfit within the hour…”

Sam’s eyes were shifting between everyone as they argued, it’s then their eyes shifted up to Mallek. He was over 6ft, and his build was similar to Lanque, and without his glasses and a bit of touch up…

“Uh…” They raise their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Bit of a long shot but Mallek here could do it.”

“What?” Mallek, Broyna, and Remele say in unison at this suggestion.

Mallek chuckles nervously. “Oh no, no… I’m not a model I couldn’t possibly-”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Lanque says which was even more surprising to hear.

“Seriously? I just work here in the office, I don’t think I could-” Mallek is cut off as Remele suddenly approaches him, and pulls off his glasses, he blinks a few times adjusting, she then examines him cupping his chin and moving his head around.

“Long shot, but we don’t have much time.” Remele says. “Okay, I’ll take him to hair and makeup and get him fitted.” she says without letting Mallek get a word in, she pulls him along out of the office.

The next thing Mallek knew he was brought before Ms. Nadzas by Remele who gives her the rundown and after being ‘examined’ by her as well she gives it all clear. Mallek felt like he can’t say no in this situation and wanted to lend a hand since he could tell that Remele was both desperate and would want Sam’s head on a platter, and he wasn’t mad at his friend for suggesting him. He just wanted to be helpful and do whatever he could to make the situation easier for the company. They needed to get these photos done for the shoot by the end of the day, and only had an hour to get ready as other departments would need the camera and get to the photo ready. Plus it was just gonna be a one time thing after all...

…

How on earth did you feel yourself in this situation? That was the thought that was racing through your head. What chain of events led to you here. One minute you came into work, to handle some server issues, and sort out some files and orders for an upcoming show. Now here you are dressed in an all black suit, tight-fitted like you could see everything more or less. You had been given a touch up on makeup, and your hair had been slicked back. You were standing backstage, waiting for the shoot to begin. Yes, a fashion shoot.

You had to keep reminding yourself of that as this was really happening right now. To say that you were nervous would be a major understatement. This was a very extroverted activity you were about to engage in, which didn’t match with your introverted tendencies.

But it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

Just then you hear footsteps approaching from behind, you look behind you to see Rhakei, the tall jadeblood wearing a simple long dress, high heeled shoes, on her right arm was a wristband which flowers sewed into, and under her left arm was a clipboard with a bunch of documents, her hair is tied back into a ponytail. Before you can say anything she invades your personal space, and reaches up to your hair, fixing something by the expression on her.

Then she walks around you, you can feel her touch on your clothing, followed by the sound of her pen writing short notes on her clipboard. “Hmm. Very nice.” She says but you weren’t so sure if she was complimenting you or the material of the outfit, there was no in-between with her.

“You also clean up very well.” Okay, now you know that she was talking about the suit earlier.

“Thanks…”

“Alright, nothing too serious just a few photos in our three outfits along with the other model and that’s it.” She explains to you in a quick tone, as this was the first of three new outfits that you would be modeling for.

“O-okay. I understand…”

She must’ve caught the nervous tone in your voice because she looked at you directly but only for a moment her eyes returned to her clipboard. “Deep breaths, relax, this is just an only time thing. And no pressure we would be jumping down your throat or being hostile. You’re doing us a favor on the short notice and we appreciate it.” That was a very kind thing to come from her, considering that you had heard on many occasions her arguing with the head designer in his office, between raised voices and literal objects being thrown around.

Guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“You’ll be fine Mallek, just relax, and if you feel stuck or uncomfortable just let or the others know. And you won’t be alone out there either.” She reminds you as there would another model right beside you, and it was only gonna be a handful of people so it wouldn’t be too embarrassing.

“You ready?” Rhakei asks as you just nod.

She smiles faintly and leads out to the photoshoot. They're waiting for you was another troll, a bronze with antler horns, his eyes were shielded by sunglasses, he was wearing a completely different outfit. While you were in a suit, he was wearing a leather jacket, a long sleeved shirt, jeans and boots, and a pair of spiked cuffs.

“Alright boys, we’ll be doing a few photos for each outfit, a few poses, shouldn’t take too long.”

“Dammek, this is Mallek, he works in one of our offices and will be filling in for Lanque just for today. There was an incident earlier.” Rhakei casually explains to the other model, naming him ‘Dammek’.

“Alright, that’s fine. I’m cool with this.” Dammek responds in a nonchalant manner, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Great, then let’s get started.” She says as the camera and lighting team sets up for the shoot…

“Okay, here we go…” You whisper to yourself under your breath.

…

Later on, after the photoshoot, Mallek is back in his normal clothes back at the office, he was a little exhausted leaning back into his chair. That was… Something. Miss Nadzas said that he was a real natural, he did well and even Dammek complimented him, it really boosted his confidence, and he ended up having fun with it too. It was very straightforward, the only hectic part was sudden outfit changes and his questions regarding how he should pose, and many other questions. But other than that, it went really well, Remele was happy that the outfit looked good in the photos, Lanque was grateful for his help, and both Broyna and Sam said he did a great job.

“Hey, dude!” He looks over to see Sam smiling, holding what was probably a peace offering, some fresh coffee, and something that smells really good.

“Just thought I would drop these off.” They place the items at your desk.

“Thanks.” Mallek smiles as he was in need of some fuel, opening the bag to see the contents, some slices of pizza.

“Sorry again for throwing ya under the bus like that, I hope you didn’t mind plus the photos looked really great.” Sam rubs the back of their head, it just happened.

“Don’t worry about it. At least this way you wouldn’t get murdered by Remele for the accident.” Mallek jokes at his friend’s expense as this would be a new thing to joke about.

Sam chuckles. “Y-yeah, she said that we’re even so that means I’m off her kill list. Just gotta be more careful in the future.”

“So whaddya think, you could definitely be a model on a regular basis, maybe do a fashion show.” Sam retorts as they had a new topic to tease Mallek with as well.

Mallek laughs. “Ha! Nope. My modeling career began and ended today, this was a one-time thing so Remele wouldn’t murder you and they could get the photos for the designs ready for the magazine.”

“If you say so dude, but you did look great out there.” Sam adds which does make Mallek smile.

[dettiot]

Fic: late-night interruption 5/?

late-night interruption Author: dettiot Rating: G (for now) Summary: When Obi-Wan receives a late-night comm from Sabé, he’s not sure what to expect. But what he learns will change many lives . . . and the fate of the Republic.

Also available on AO3!

XXX

There was a disturbance in the Force. 

Most beings would stand in the office of the Supreme Chancellor and, if their attention was not held by being in the presence of the most powerful man in the galaxy, be entirely focused on the view through the transparisteel windows. No matter the hour, traffic surged around Coruscant’s buildings, moving its two trillion citizens to workplaces or home or recreation sites. 

But for Darth Sidious, Coruscant was only a drop of water in the ocean when it came to his interests. In truth, the entirety of the known galaxy was simply where he would start--but with the vast unexplored regions, there were so many beings, unaffiliated with the Republic yet, that he would bring under his control one day.

That would be his glorious future. Whenever he considered it, the Force swirled in a dark, soothing mass around him. In the present moment, however, he could sense something changing. Something that felt wrong.  

Reaching out, Sidious focused on the change. It seemed to be coalesced around certain people, and his lips twisted into a snarl as he realized just who the Force was working upon.  

Senator Padmé Amidala. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. And most troubling of all: Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. 

If it was simply the matter of Amidala’s brat being born soon, he would understand this stirring. Anakin’s offspring would be powerful in the Force. And when his child came without its father being present, Anakin would blame the Jedi Order. It would be another wedge between his future apprentice and the Jedi High Council.  

But it wasn’t just the “happy couple” at the center of the Force’s gyrations. What did the Force care about Kenobi in this moment? 

Before he could begin to explore the disturbance further, his comm chimed and he had to take a moment to smooth his face into something suitable for Chancellor Palpatine. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to keep up the pretense. To wait for his destiny. Especially with the Force’s newfound movement, being more active than it had been in decades. It was practically dancing.  

Tapping his finger on the button, he accepted the comm and growled, “Yes?” 

“Good evening, Chancellor,” Mas Amedda said, his voice dripping with deferential courtesy. “There is action in the Senate on another clone rights bill--”

“Another bill which will go nowhere,” Sidious ordered. “There are no clone rights.”

Amedda bowed, but his sense hummed with a subtle resentment. “I am attempting to do as you wish, Chancellor, however, I have received word that the Kaminoans supporting this latest bill.”

“They have no Senate seat,” he sniffed. “Clearly, this is a ploy, in preparation for our upcoming negotiations.” 

“Yes, Chancellor,” Amedda said. 

The lack of initiative in Amedda was becoming more and more of a problem. But on the other hand, his loyalty was unquestioning. Any servant’s gifts came with tradeoffs, Sidious acknowledged to himself. 

“I will speak to the Kaminoans. Keep the Senate in line and kill the very idea of clone rights,” Sidious said.

Amedda inclined his head. “Yes, Chancellor. Have a good evening.” 

Without any further words, Sidious ended the comm and looked out at the view once again. He reached for the Force but found his insight was . . . blocked. All he could feel was a disgusting light. He grimaced and turned back to his desk. 

These infernal petty problems--clone rights, war strategy, the Senate’s bickering--soon, none of them would matter. Soon, the galaxy would answer to him. 

And so would the Force. 

XXX

Although most of Naboo’s population wasn’t overtly religious, Sabé had been brought up in a family that was less spiritual than most. She had always focused on the here and now, on her own actions, instead of thinking about what came after death. And she had been satisfied with her life and what she would accomplish before she died, without the assistance of any gods or goddesses. 

Yet she had begun to reconsider her perspective. Because seeing her best friend in such pain made her wish she could call upon a deity for help. 

“Don’t push, Senator,” Gahan urged her as Sabé held her hand. “Not quite yet.” 

Padmé nodded, her teeth gritted. The contraction passed and she slumped back on the bed, breathing hard. 

Sabé lifted a damp cloth and sponged Padmé’s forehead. “You’re doing so well, Padmé,” she soothed her. “Just a little longer.” 

Nodding a little, Padmé closed her eyes. “Where’s Anakin? Is he here yet?” 

“Soon--he’ll get here soon,” Sabé promised. “Master Kenobi messaged me when they entered orbit around Coruscant.” 

“Master Kenobi?” Padmé said, blinking. “Obi-Wan is coming?” 

With a shrug of her shoulders, Sabé said, “Yes?” 

Padmé still looked confused, but then she smiled weakly. “That’s--that’s good. I’m glad. Anakin--Anakin is scared for me--he’ll need Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin wasn’t the only one who was scared, Sabé thought. She glanced at Healer Gahan, who remained as calm and steady as a pond. But it seemed to her that the healer’s calm was very practiced. Like she was pretending for Padmé’s sake. 

“Sabé . . . could I please have some juice?” 

Before Sabé could reply, the healer said smoothly, “I’m afraid that’s not wise, Senator. But you may have some ice chips.” 

“I’ll get them for you, Padmé,” Sabé said, giving her forehead another quick wipe before heading to the kitchen. 

The healer followed her, which was fine with Sabé. As soon as they were out of earshot, she whirled around and pinned the Mon Cal with her glare. “What’s wrong with Padmé?” 

“Nothing more than she is in labor,” Gahan said, her large, glassy eyes blinking. “The Senator is a small woman; she will need to be fully dilated to deliver safely. There is also her anxiety about her husband being here. That is unfortunately increasing her pain, too. I’m sure as soon as her husband arrives, the Senator will have an easier time of it.” 

Sabé breathed out, feeling her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.” 

“You are a good friend to the Senator,” the healer said politely. “I have one more scan to run on the Senator--I do find the Senator’s condition concerning, but I believe with this final scan, we will be well-prepared for the delivery.” 

“All right,” Sabé said. “I’ll get the ice chips for Padmé. Thank you, Healer Gahan.” 

“You’re welcome,” the healer said with a nod of her head before returning to Padmé’s room. 

Something still seemed not quite right to Sabé, but then, she had never been part of something like this before. She didn’t have older sisters and Padmé was the first of her friends to become pregnant. And she never had any thought of having children herself. 

All of this was as new to her as it was to Padmé. And Padmé needed her right now. 

That meant she shouldn’t stand around worrying. She should get those ice chips and get back to Padmé. 

With a shake of her head, Sabé did what was needed. With a large glass brimming with ice, she walked back into the bedroom, just in time to hear Padmé say, in a loud voice, “What?!?”

“What is it, Padmé?” Sabé asked, stepping over towards her. 

Padmé looked up at Sabé, her eyes wide and dark and, for the first time ever, full of fear for her life. 

XXX

He knew what he should be focusing on. The idea that the Chancellor was a Sith Lord . . . it was horrifying, terrifying. Not just for what it could mean for the galaxy, but because how could the Jedi not realize this? How had Palpatine hidden his power, to the extent that he read as a non-Force-sensitive? 

Yet all Obi-Wan could think about was Satine. 

The Satine in the meditation he had shared with Anakin . . . he had never seen her like that. Her hair loose around her face, but shorter than he had ever seen it. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but there were new lines around her eyes, hinting at age--or pain. And her jumpsuit, dirty and faded, was a far cry from her regal gowns. Not even during their year on the run had she allowed herself to look so bedraggled.

It all pointed towards a Force vision, a glimpse into the future. But . . . how could it be true? How could Satine be alive? 

Meditation usually calmed him, gave him answers to the questions he sought. But this time, all he had were questions. And given the current situation, it would be up to him to find the answers.

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin, who was gripping the speeder controls so hard, his knuckles were white. 

Yes, definitely up to him. 

Not that he could fault Anakin for his distraction. Not with his worries for Padmé. And Anakin could never focus on anything else if someone he cared about was in trouble. It was a quality which had provoked Obi-Wan to exasperation at times--but also to gratitude, since otherwise, he might not be alive. 

Obi-Wan took a breath and sought for Padmé’s presence amid the trillions of souls on the surface of Coruscant. Once he found her, he winced at the pain radiating off her. But the strength underneath that pain gave him hope. 

Looking over at Anakin, Obi-Wan spoke in a raised tone, to be heard over the wind whipping past the speeder’s canopy. “Padmé seems to be handling her pain well.” 

If anything, his attempt at reassurance backfired, because Anakin sped up. “She shouldn’t ever be in pain,” he said, his jaw tight. 

“Some pain is unavoidable, Anakin--you know this,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice gentle. 

He shook his head, his distress plain to see. Obi-Wan reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know I should be worrying about what we saw,” Anakin said slowly, his eyes focused on the view through the windshield. “About the Chancellor . . . and about Satine. But all I can think about is Padmé. About my dreams.” 

“I understand, Anakin, I do,” Obi-Wan said. “But I saw Padmé holding a baby in our vision. We both saw that. It seems the Force itself says her future is not what you saw in your dreams.”

“Then what do my dreams mean? They felt so real, Obi-Wan . . .” 

Anakin’s voice sounded miserable. He was flying without his usual smooth fluidity, jerking the steering column to get around obstacles in their path. 

“Crashing the speeder won’t help Padmé or solve the question of what will happen,” Obi-Wan said crisply. “And Padmé is going to need you to be calm and supportive.” 

His former Padawan gave him a look dripping with frustration, but at least he slowed the speeder and took a few deep breaths. Obi-Wan sent him a gentle swell of peace and hope, which helped reduce a little of the fear in Anakin’s presence. Enough that his face smoothed and his thoughts seemed to untangle. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said after a moment.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. 

Glancing at Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself thinking. No matter how much Obi-Wan had taught him to avoid attachment, Anakin seemed completely unable to do so. And it troubled Obi-Wan, seeing Anakin be so fearful of loss. Not simply because of the danger of giving in to that fear . . . but also, how did such a reaction impact the people that Anakin cared about? 

Over the years, Obi-Wan had observed Anakin being wildly overprotective of Padmé, even though she was very capable of defending herself. What if, at some point in the future, Anakin’s worry came into conflict with Padmé’s sense of independence? How would Anakin handle that--and how would Padmé?

It made him think of that year with Satine. How Qui-Gon had taught him to respect Satine’s autonomy. To not take over tasks simply because he was a Jedi--to let her learn so she could help herself. 

“If we give someone a fish, they eat today,” Master Qui-Gon would tell him. “But if we teach someone to fish, they will eat every day for the rest of their lives.” 

That approach always seemed to be successful, even though it conflicted with his sense of personal responsibility. When had he stopped believing in teaching people and begun taking over? Was it the war--the lives he felt responsible for? Or was it a flaw within himself?

Perhaps he had failed Anakin, by simply taking a black-and-white approach to attachment, instead of teaching him all the shades of gray that came from having relationships. And perhaps Anakin had taken the wrong message from his stance on avoiding attachments. 

Given what he knew about Obi-Wan’s own feelings for Satine . . . it was quite likely Anakin saw him as a hypocrite. Which would explain why Anakin had never told Obi-Wan about his marriage.

It was something to consider going forward, Obi-Wan acknowledged. Something he would want to talk to Anakin about, after the baby had arrived and Anakin saw that Padmé would be all right. 

The Jedi had always believed that Padawan and Master learned from each other. Somewhere along the way, though, he had stopped learning, and it had cost both of them. But at least now that he could see his failings, he could work to correct them. He could help Anakin. 

The speeder coming to a stop snapped Obi-Wan out of his thoughts and he looked around. Anakin had docked the speeder at the private landing platform by Padmé’s apartment, but . . . he wasn’t moving. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. “We’re here.” 

“I--I know,” he said, his hands clasped together tightly in his lap. 

This was odd. Obi-Wan frowned and gently touched Anakin’s shoulder. Under his fingertips, Anakin’s muscles felt like rocks. 

His Force presence reminded Obi-Wan of a bantha on the verge of stampeding. Terrified, uncertain, wanting to move yet wanting to stay still . . . 

He opened his mouth to prod Anakin, to remind him of Padmé, only to stop and shake his head. Of course Anakin didn’t need a reminder of Padmé in this moment. 

“I promise you, Anakin, Padmé is not going to die.” 

“You--you can’t--you can’t promise that, Master,” Anakin said, his voice hitching. 

“Yes, I can,” Obi-Wan said, his voice equal parts gentle and firm. “Because Padmé is strong and loves you very much. And I’m sure she loves your child just as much. She is not about to leave you both behind.” 

Anakin’s blue eyes were full of tears when he looked at Obi-Wan. “You--you think so?” 

Obi-Wan smiled, putting all his reassurance and confidence into his voice and his presence. “I know so. Now, come along. I wouldn’t want to tell Padmé that I had to drag you to her side.” 

“Ohhhh, I’d be in so much trouble,” Anakin said. He sprang to his feet and somersaulted over Obi-Wan’s head, landing lightly and taking off for the entrance to the apartment from the landing platform.

With only a pause to chuckle, Obi-Wan hurried after Anakin, following him to what must be Padmé’s bedroom--to their bedroom. 

The moment he stepped into the room, Obi-Wan felt like he was intruding. Anakin paused on his way to Padmé only to give Obi-Wan a look that told him not to leave. And then Anakin was kneeling on the bed and taking Padmé’s hand, smiling at her. 

“Hi, angel,” he said softly, his voice filled with so much love. It made Obi-Wan swallow as he realized just how much Anakin loved Padmé. 

“Ani,” she breathed out, looking up at him. The Senator’s face was flushed, her hair sticking to her temples from the sweat trickling down her forehead. “Ani, you’re here.” 

There was something strange in Padmé’s presence, Obi-Wan thought. A trace of fear, a few flickers of uncertainty, just underneath a wave of joy.

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

“Mr. Naberrie, I presume,” the Mon Cal healer said from the foot of the bed, where she was doing something between Padmé’s spread and bent legs. 

Obi-Wan quickly looked away, catching Anakin’s wide-eyed, pleased smile. Anakin didn’t correct the healer when he spoke. “Yes--how is she doing?” 

“Very well, other than a little surprise,” the healer said in an unruffled voice. 

Sabé, holding Padmé’s other hand, snorted and Anakin frowned. 

“A surprise?” he asked, looking over at Obi-Wan with a worried expression before looking back at Padmé.

Padmé nodded and gripped Anakin’s hand, a wide smile lighting up her tired face. “Oh, Ani--it’s twins!”

End, Chapter 5