#tag while the show was airing and how y'all acted toward

[redwinterroses]

I’m doing my very best not to format this as a literary analysis paper but that’s basically what this is so forgive me if I slip back into those old habits at all. And I'm going to tag @betweenlands and @fluffy-papaya in this because guys look what your fic made me brainrot. XD

(This is a long one, y'all. We're talking 2k words. Sorry.)

That said:

Hey, let’s talk about the bead curtain in Dog at the Door.

That dang bead curtain, and why I’m currently fixating on it, and how I think it has symbolism that may or may not be intentional.

(At this point, I’m assuming it’s intentional. Everything about this fic is intentional. Including the pain. Heh. “The only difference between a running gag and a recurring theme is how seriously you take it,” says Solar. Cool. I’m taking it seriously.)

The curtain first shows up in chapter one. It’s one of the first things we see in the van, and the first thing we know about it is that Doc finds it obnoxious. Ugly. Revolting. Renbob loves it, obviously, but Renbob has odd tastes. Doc, on the other hand, literally uses his hatred of the curtain to motivate him to get out of bed in the morning.

The Red King, when he shows up, also has similar dislike of the thing, but his reaction is a little more measured, a little less extreme. More distaste, less disgust. He finds it “distasteful” and compares it to wearing a labcoat without a shirt (lol). But he doesn’t loath it like Doc does, and when Doc suggests (in chapter 13) that they take it down and use it for friendship bracelets, he’s as displeased with that idea as Renbob is. He has an ambivalent opinion, overall.

And then Ren. Ren actually reacts the least to the curtain—but ends up with the most dramatic interaction with it, which we’ll come back to in a second. He simply says (chapter 24) that normally he’d find the beads hideous, but that the light of Doc’s eye reflecting off it into the shadows makes it oddly peaceful.

There’s exactly one other use of the word “curtain” in this fic, and it’s this line right here:

“I haven’t done anything but possess him and lead his soul back to the controls.” RK throws his hands up in the air. “He’s put himself behind the curtain because he thinks I’m out to get him. My only crime is the original contract I made with him, doctor.”

In this instance, RK is talking about their “imperfect metaphor” of Ren being behind the curtain that separates the “driver’s seat” from the rest of the van that is Ren’s mind/soul. He’s saying that Ren has deliberately put himself in a position of defeat and surrender because he (Ren) doesn’t think there are any other options.

M’kay. Right about now, any sane person is going, “Red. Why are you so fixated on this bead curtain. It’s a running joke at best.”

And... I mean, sure. Kinda. But also definitely not.

This is the part where I really step out on a potentially-shaky limb with all the confidence in the world, because here’s what I'm seeing: the dividing line between life and death is often portrayed in literature as a curtain.

(And it’s interesting to note that the curtain is a barrier, a separation, but it’s only a curtain, and this one is made of beads at that. It’s a flimsy and fluid barrier, easy to pass through. Back and forth. Surrender and control, life and death.)

In fact, even in this fic it’s used that way: RK may be referring to the metaphorical bead curtain in their van of an explanation for how his and Ren’s relationship works, but in the story at that point Ren is convinced that he’s dead. Or is supposed to be dead. And by putting himself “behind the curtain,” he’s surrendering to that. Almost insisting on it, because that’s the truth of how he sees the world right then and he can’t process any other possibilities. He’s basically saying “I’m supposed to be dead, and this side of the curtain is death, so that’s where I’ll stay.”

So if the curtain in the metaphor represents the two sides of that, it’s really interesting to look at the various characters’ reactions to the literal bead curtain and see how it reflects their attitudes toward death—and specifically Ren’s death.

Renbob is... chill. He has an entirely comfortable relationship with the bead curtain, with life and death, with his own emotions—even with dealing with the emotions of the others he’s chauffeuring across the universe. While he isn’t immune to the grief of losing (or thinking he’s lost) Ren, he deals with it in a relatively healthy way—at least as much as we see. I think there was a possibly-canon ask at some point that said he was journaling and meditating so... yeah. Renbob’s got this. And 50 other bead curtains in storage. He’s the only character in the fic who passes in and out of the curtain regularly and without it being a big deal.

To put it simply: Renbob is on good terms with whatever happens in life, up to and including the end of it. (Renbob is arguably the equal and opposite of Grimdog. Two sides of the same coin in more ways than one.)

Contrast that now with Doc. Doc is... not a fan of the bead curtain. It represents a loss of control to him, (“freakin’ hippies”) and a separation from what he loves. In the past, he and Ren were on opposite sides of that conflict, and the beads still somewhat represent that tension (though in a mostly nostalgic, and not actively-antagonistic way.) But the language Doc’s narration uses to describe the beads is strong. “Obnoxious.” “Accursed.” “Horrendously evil.”

Nearly as scary as his best friend trying to kill him.

It’s played for laughs, obviously, and it is funny. But if we project the symbolism of “the curtain represents death” onto Doc’s reactions, it gets a bit less amusing. And it really fits with Doc’s attitude toward Ren’s death in the whole fic. It’s the worst thing he’s ever faced—to the extent that until RK’s seemingly-permanent presence forces him to, Doc doesn’t even try to process it. He goes right to work on the prosthetics, growls at anyone who tries to make him do anything he doesn't want to do, accepts RK as “New Ren,” and pretends that he’s going on with life.

He refuses to look at how weird the whole situation is, because if he does that he has to deal with Ren being gone forever. He ignores the thing that’s right under his nose and pretends it’s not there until a moment of quiet or actually having to interact with it brings it back to his attention, and then his reaction is vitriolic.

Doc hates that curtain, and he hates the concept of death, the concept of losing control. Even in his nightmares, he holds tight to what little control he can take, even if it’s just taking the initiative to sit in the snow and let it kill him faster. Hold onto that thought, because I’ve got more to it, but we have to talk about RK and Ren first.

RK holds both distaste and acceptance of the curtain. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t want it destroyed either. The distaste, notably, is when he’s with Doc, and the acceptance comes from being around Renbob. The Red King, as a blood god, is not exactly unfamiliar with death. It’s literally in his job description, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. A necessary evil, if you will.

It doesn’t hurt either that, at least up until Ren, RK has always been the one on the other side of the curtain, completely in control of the situation. He goes back and forth on his attitudes, but in the past he has been the one in control and the bringer of death. His reaction is negative, but not emphatic—the way someone who has plenty of indoor plans might react to a rainstorm.

Ren... now, Ren. Ren has, like I said, the least recorded reaction to the actual, physical bead curtain. But. But. While he normally would call it hideous, “there’s something oddly peaceful about watching light fractals spin off the walls, cutting off into the shadows.” The shadows, it’s worth noticing, are specifically implied to be RK/hiding RK in this moment. Doc’s light and RK’s shadows interacting with the curtain bring peace to Ren. He passes through it easily to find Renbob.

Ren has already accepted his death—he accepted it long before the fic even started—to an extent that he’s actively insisting on it for a large portion of the story. It’s only when he realizes that Doc is in potential danger that he starts fighting RK for control of the situation again. (“Stay away from Doc, you bastard. He wasn’t part of our bargain. Leave him alone.”)

He dislikes the bead curtain, but he doesn’t hate it, and when seen in the (literal) light of Doc’s protective, watching eye—even if he is asleep at the moment, bless—even the shadows of RK’s presence are suddenly beautiful and peaceful to him in a way that, without the “reflecting fractals” of the beads, wouldn’t be possible. Again: this is the chapter where Renbob’s influence is felt, and his peace with life and death directly affects Ren and his reactions. (“It’ll all sort itself out, eventually, and I’ll be here for you while it does.”)

And then...

And then Ren rips down the curtain altogether.

The separation is gone. For better or for worse, that divide between control and surrender, between RK and Ren, between life and death... it’s gone. It’s scattered across the floor of the van, glittering in Ren’s hair, and in the carpet. Ren has broken through that barrier, and now we just have to wait to see what the consequences of that are for him.

But... we can already see at least one consequence for Doc. Because now there is no more illusion of control and surrender for him to maintain. That division is no longer there, and we see Doc’s first real surrender in the whole story. Even in his nightmares, he was still in control: he knew it was a nightmare, and he fought against it until he “gave up”—in a way that still put him in control. He chooses to sit in the snow so it’ll kill dream-him faster.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but it’s still not that: he takes control in the only way he knows, aware that everything is only a dream and no matter what how it treats him, he’ll still wake up in the end. He looks at the nightmare and says basically “Do your worst, I dare you, but you won’t get what you want from me.”

But now—now he surrenders to Ren. He gives up. His core truth (“I’ll do anything to protect those I love,” which I talked about in this post) looks like it’s not going to be enough to save them. He can’t save Ren—from RK or from Ren himself—and that means he’s lost in the worst way possible. In this moment, it looks like Ren doesn’t even trust that Doc’s core truth—that he will do anything to save his friends—is true.

This is Doc’s lowest point: that Ren seems to think Doc’s loyalty and love have failed. And to Doc... that’s a fate worse than death.

So he gives up. He tells Ren to kill him, and he fully expects him to do so. Doc doesn’t want to die, but at this point he has completely let go of any control of his own fate. Even when facing down Ren with the Skizz blade, he held tightly to his control of the situation. He literally takes the sword in his own hand and removes it as a threat. But now—now the curtain is gone. The illusion of control is gone.

Ren is the one in control of the situation—for possibly the first time in the fic—and he chooses to remember that Doc is his friend, that he’s missed him. But Doc leaves it all to him. Even when Ren backs off, Doc stays in that surrendered state (“I can’t do anything right, unlike [Martyn.]”). He realizes that he's been in the passenger seat the whole time, and he’s now where Ren was before: no longer even trying to take back the driver’s seat.

The curtain is gone. Now we just have to wait and see who ends up on which side of it at the end.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Off to the Races | AU: Gangsters/Casino | Russel Adler x fem!reader

Summary: You were born for the stage. A natural dancer with all of your youth used for experience, you now find yourself as a showgirl in one of Vegas' top casinos, the SunDowner. Owned by, Russell Adler, a notorious gangster in the underworld who remains undercover to the public eye, business is booming. Doubly so when a mysterious promotion comes your way, launching you to the top stage...

Just when you thought your life couldn't get more interesting, just how crazy will things get when the old gangster handpicks you from one crazy life to another, to keep for himself?

Tags: Gangster Au, age difference

Warnings: This fic has no explicit smut or anything, but WILL contain some overtly sexual themes and suggestive content, strong language, and age difference bc y'all know me 😪 So reader beware!

Y'all thought I was joking with this post huh lol

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You’d be surprised how much that little mantra has gotten you through.

Tonight, it comes in handy once more.

You scurry into place on stage, surrounded by an array of women around your age in exactly similar costumes. Glittering, skin tight leotards, sky high heels to pop out some ass, sheer mesh sections to show a little skin, and long, billowing feather accents mounted on your back and head for God knows what.

It’s your first night doing a showgirl routine at the infamous SunDowner casino, right here in shiny, shimmering Sin City itself. You’re one of three acts going on at the same time, all on different floors of the building. Your performance is taking place in the middle floor stage where the least amount of people are likely to see you, just in case you turn out to be a waste of a contract.

You take a look around you. The other women seem so confident… That, or they’re damn good at pretending. Makes sense, you think to yourself, everyone and their mother is a damn actor in this town. It’s all an act... When Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage”, you doubt this is what he had in mind.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker booms, announcing the start of the show. The lights power on over head, blindingly bright as some oldie style song starts up. Something for the oldsters, no doubt. But then again… aren’t you too?

The curtains shoot to the side on the beat and you can feel yourself pulled into auto pilot. You’ve practiced this dance so many times, it’s like second nature by now. So you dance. You parade around, covered in glitter and somehow managing to not break your neck in these heels while you strut around and roll your hips and shake your ass for some drunk old men with all fourteen of the other women beside you doing exactly the same thing.

And while you preform... Somewhere, way way up on the top floor, Russell Adler, owner of this whole joint and a couple city blocks to boot, returns to his office after taking a walk through the gambling pits. He’s caught two hustlers tonight alone, both of which were dealt with… severely.

The Sundowner doesn’t take kindly to thieves, and neither does he.

He dips into a side room within the office space behind a covertly placed door into a soundproof room. Adler switches on the lights and takes a seat in front of a huge stack of tv monitors. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, and watches the live feed from his many surveillance cameras. These are to keep an eye on his dealers and pit bosses rather than the customers, contrary to what most may think.

Can’t be too careful in this line of business, after all.

The room is silent except for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the large oak desk. He’s not one for glitz and garish glamour, but he is never without his four favorite rings.

They adorn his right hand, all made of polished platinum. Three are made in the shape of a thin, wound coil with some decorative knurling along the surface in a trapezoidal pattern, getting slightly thicker in size right up to the crown piece on his index finger. The largest ring features the hissing head of a viper with inset eyes made of two black diamonds.

Each ring is easily worth several thousand dollars, and not even close to the most expensive item on his person tonight, let alone in his wardrobe.

His eyes shift from left to right, scanning each screen quickly and judiciously as he taps and sips. For a moment, he lands on the showgirl performance. The quality of entertainment and the establishment itself is every bit as important as making sure everyone else stays in line and on their side of the house rules.

Adler checks the camera marker and notes that these are the new hires. Whatever he sees, he’ll make sure to cut them some slack.

Some.

One girl stumbles a bit, right there on stage. She’s out. Another girl brushes against the one beside her. Out. Then, towards the finale, two girls jump out of sync with the rest. He shakes his head and sighs. Where the fuck are his people getting these girls from?

He takes note of the ones he wants gone, then manages to swallow his frustration and watch the wrap up. Things end to light applause and before the curtain closes he taps a key on his board of switches to pause the feed. He counts up the dancers and take notes of each girl personally.

You know… Throughout that entire shit show, if memory serves, there was only one girl who hit all the marks.

Adler rewinds the feed and focuses on you in particular. He follows your every step and leap. Watching every move, studying every turn…

He was right. Perfect, throughout the whole routine. He reaches for his red phone and calls up the man in charge of the girl shows.

“Who’s the one in position seven, middle stage show?”

There’s a moment of silence and a rustling of paper before the other man replies with your full name, a little bit of your credentials, and the date of your hiring. “Something wrong sir?”

“Yes, send positions three, ten, eight, and twelve home. We have standards, for God’s sake”

“Of course sir-”

“And as for seven… I want her performing top stage next time”

More silence, and then a tentative, “...Yes sir”

Adler clicks the phone into the receiver and takes the last sip of his drink. Hmp, lucky number seven… His gaze lingers on you and your supple body only a moment longer. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip... then goes back to the rest of his cameras.

He’ll be interested to see if you can rise to the task he’s gifted to you.

When the last of your shows ends, you and the rest of the girls head back to the dressing room one more time tonight to get changed out of these contraptions they have you wearing. A stern looking man bursts into the room unannounced, he calls out four girls and sends them packing with no explanation given. His beady eyes scan the room and land on you, nearly giving you a heart attack as you brace to be cut as well.

“And you, seven… You’re performing in the VIP lounge next week. Don’t fuck this up”

And just like that, he leaves as quickly as he came, slamming the door behind him. The other girls turn to congratulate you, some bitterly, while you’re left reeling.

Playing the top floor, the “VIP lounge” is… huge.

Some girls perform here their whole lives and never get to see it. You’ve even heard that they hire foreign professionals, just to meet up to their standards. Up there you can make tips on top of your salary. Well, only for... private dances or pole shows, but still…

You go home that night wondering how such a thing is even possible, but soon decide to shake it off. Who cares how, all that matters is that the chance has come.

And you plan to rise to the occasion.

You spend your next two days off practicing and limbering up both with the other VIP dancers and on your own. Most of the women keep to themselves and you can tell they’re a bit resentful of your presence.

There’s no question about it, you’re the youngest one here and by default the least experienced. What gives you the right to be instantly promoted like that? If only you yourself knew.

Regardless, your first performance on the top floor is here before you know it. And things go… Fairly well, to be honest.

The routine is complex, but you can tell it’s been slowed down to give you a chance. The stage is bigger, the makeup more colorful, the costumes more revealing, and the lights brighter, and yet... you feel right at home. The nervousness has worn off by now and you’re a rising star on the stage.

After a few nights of proving yourself, you’re even hired for some private dances and given a chance on the pole.

The cash pool you take home gets bigger and bigger every night, and so does your audience.

But, for all the eyes on you, there’s one strange pair that bothers you the most…

You’re working a routine with the other girls tonight. The leading girl is out with a sprained ankle, so tonight you were given the honor to dance as the Primadona, front and center on the stage. You twirl and strut up to the front, the women behind you backing you up and mirroring your moves. They continue to spin and clear space in a geometric formation to give you room as you perform the finishing stunt.

With a deep breath of air, you perform an impressive high kick on the crescendo beat that transitions into a backwards somersault and ends in a split at center stage.

A roar of applause and whistles comes from the crowd of wealthy men and women watching you.

All except one.

You lock eyes with a lone gentleman sitting front and center at a round booth table in the dimly lit room. He takes a long drag on his cigarette and even behind his dark aviators you can feel his eyes on you. As though to confirm your suspicions, he lowers the glasses to the bridge of his nose, exhaling a plume of smoke as he stares directly into your irises.

He brings his cigarette back for another hit, the small flame highlighting a horrible looking scar that goes the length of his cheek, and as the curtain falls, his creased, glowing blue eyes are the last you see of him.

The truth is… Adler’s had his eyes on you ever since that first night on the cameras. Tonight, he came down just to see your show in person. You’re just as good as you are on camera. Perhaps, even better.

No... definitely better.

He’s been reviewing your track record as of late. You took ballet lessons ever since you were just four years old. Won several awards for dances and even some state level beauty pageants. Joined the dance club at your highschool and got a scholarship from it to put you through college. You’re trained classically, but it would appear the only jobs you’ve ever gotten are clubs, bars, and casinos just like this one.

Adler smirks to himself, thinking of your pretty young face as he takes another drag. Maybe you're not as innocent as you seem.

He can work with that...

[tanyawritesstories]

Close Encounters | Kit Fisto x Reader

After 6 hours of writing I have finally completed my first request! Which you can view here. I had planned on this being short but then got carried away, I hope the anon who requested this enjoys and so does everyone else who reads it!

@venomous-ko asked me to tag them. @savagesbonergarage @blue-space-porgs I think y'all might like this too 😉

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (f receiving), handjobs, dirty talk, Master and Padawan relationship, groping, cliffhanger, sexual tension for days, kissing, biting, fingering, all the usual good stuff 😋

•••

You waited patiently in the training room for your master to arrive. You had gotten there a little early and decided to stretch while you waited for him, he had told you this morning that you would be practicing your lightsaber combat and more hand-to-hand combat training since you hadn’t gotten much of it yet.

Since you didn't have anything you had to do after this, you were wearing comfortable athletic clothes: knee length leggings, tank top, cute sports bra, and the belt that held your lightsaber. The training room was empty right now, most everyone else in different classes or occupied with important things. You were grateful for the privacy but also scared of it, you knew that same palpable tension would hang in the air the second your master walked in.

Kit Fisto was a unique Jedi. As a Jedi Master and council member he was a strong and dependable individual, he was different in that he wasn’t as serious as all the other Jedi Masters. He was capable of smiling and laughing and had a carefree and kind spirit, it made him a favorite with younglings and Jedi knights alike. Not to mention with the soldiers of his underwater unit, you’d lost track of how many men you suspected had a crush on your Master. You thought made you laugh.

Then there was your relationship with him, it was strong but recently had taken a strange turn. You noticed he was spending a lot more time with you and using nicknames like: ‘starlight’ and ‘little flower’ for you. They were endearing and cute, which was also part of your issue. The crush you had on your Master was against the Jedi code, but again, lately it has gone further. You found yourself daydreaming of your Master with you in intimate situations, thank the Maker your mind was well guarded. The flash images of you and him tangled up in the sheets, how you imagined his lips would feel on your skin, how his fingers would feel as they toyed with your clit, how his cock would feel as-

You shook your head, clearing the images away. There you go again. The dreams and the close encounters with your Master had culminated in a sexual tension between the two of you. For all you knew, you could be the only one feeling it, maybe Kit was unaffected. You were lucky that you were able to hide the fact that he affected you so much, both with your mind and by acting normal and calm.

You stood up and stretched, bending in half to touch your toes, feeling the slight pull in your calves. You took a deep breath and relaxed, making sure your muscles weren’t tight and wouldn’t cause an injury.

“Good evening, my Padawan.”

The cheery voice called out and you froze for a second before standing up and turning around. Your master wore a bright smile and positive attitude that was infectious. You smiled back and greeted him. “Evening, master.” You could have sworn you saw his eyes look you up and down before he turned around. You wondered why and then remembered that you had been bent in half with your ass facing the door. You could feel your cheeks heat up and tried to force the sensation back. Kit whisked off his shirt, leaving him in loose fitting shorts. You sucked in a breath and looked at the floor, admiring the work you had done on your painted toenails. You flinched when he put a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.

“Are you ready?” He asked. You unconsciously leaned into his touch, melting under his admiring gaze. “Yes, Master Fisto,” you answered. He smirked. “Remember, call me Kit when it’s just us, flower,” he said, tapping your hip next to your lightsaber. “Get ready.” You shook yourself out of your stupor and took your lightsaber in hand, activating it. Kit took his stance and activated his own blade.

You remembered your previous training and took a calming breath before lunging at him. Your blow was easily blocked and shoved aside, you used your momentum to land a kick to his chest with your bare foot. Kit took the kick in stride and rolled backwards perfectly, coming to a stand effortlessly. You sighed, slightly frustrated. Kit swung at you this time, you blocked the first swing easily and just barely blocked the next several. Lightsaber combat was fast and required extreme concentration, one misstep could spell catastrophe.

You exchanged blows, the heat from the weapons increasing the heat in the room. You were sweating, your tank top sticking to your body, making parts of it see through. Without his shirt, you could see the beads of sweat rolling down Kit’s chest. You tried not to notice it but you looked for a second too long and felt a spike of heat near your hip. You pulled away and looked to see your shirt had been burnt through to your skin, which was, thankfully, untouched. You heard Kit sigh lightly.

“You need to maintain focus, little one,” he gently scolded. “Yes, Kit,” you said staring at the floor. Whether or not he had seen you staring at his chest you didn’t know, but disappointing him was never something you wanted to do. “How about we get to hand-to-hand training now, huh?” He smiled reassuringly at you and you nodded. You tossed your saber, and the belt it was held on, away. “What am I learning today?” You asked curiously. “We are going to work on your takedowns,” Kit replied, pulling a cushiony landing mat over. You smiled, the idea sounded fun.

Kit brought you over and stood across from you. “The first maneuver I want you to do is when someone grabs you from behind,” he explained, “let me show you.” You barely hid the nervous gulp you took before turning around and backing up a little. Kit made a noise of affirmation before you felt his arms wrap around your middle and you jumped. “You alright?” He asked, his voice close to your ear. “Yes,” you breathed, placing your hands on his arms, “you just startled me, that’s all.” He chuckled in your ear which sent a shiver down your spine and an aching in the bottom of your stomach. “I’m sorry, starlight. It won’t happen again.”

“Alright, so if someone were to grab you like this...” Kit explained, he tightened his grip around your middle and gently pulled. You gasped at the sensation and hoped he didn’t hear you. “...I want you to swing your elbow back to try and hit my face, alright?” You nodded, your breathing getting shallow as you turned your head and saw how close his face was to yours. You pulled your arm in towards you before swinging it out fast, stopping just before it hit Kit in the head. “Like that?” You asked weakly, your elbow relaxing and you draped it over his shoulder. “Just like that,” he whispered. Fuck, his deep voice was doing things to you, the deep timbre worming its way into your ears and settling in between your legs.

“What you do next is put the same arm around my head, use my shoulder for leverage and jump over my other shoulder, make sense?” You smiled and giggled, honestly not knowing what he just explained. “No, I’m sorry, Kit,” You continued giggling, “I’m going to need you to show me.” Kit pushed a strand of hair away from your ear and chuckled with you. “That’s alright, I’ll help you. Just do as I say,” he instructed. Kit took your elbow and pulled it over his head to his other shoulder. You rested your hand against his back, his silky smooth skin warm and you could feel his muscles move under his skin. You hoped he didn’t know what he was actually doing to you.

“Ok, now push off me and use the Force to help you jump over the shoulder your hand was just on. When you do that, turn and land on your feet, I’ll be dragged onto my back and you will have the advantage. See how that works?” He further explained. You looked away, thinking and rehearsing the moves in your head. "I think I got it," you said. You turned your head to look back at him a little too quick and bumped your cheek on his nose, causing you both to laugh. He maintained eye contact with you for a few seconds longer and you saw his eyes darken in the slightest bit. "Alright, c'mon you've got this," Kit encouraged. He counted down and you moved.

You jumped up, using the one arm to push off as well as your feet. With the aid of the Force, you easily swung your body out of his grip and over his other shoulder. You both went careening backwards but you landed gracefully on your knees while Kit landed flat on his back, his fall cushioned by the mat. “Excellent!” He praised. You smiled wide and stood up, offering him your hand to get up. He took it and you pulled him to stand, you didn’t realize how much strength you had put into it until Kit was standing and still moving towards you with his momentum. You reached out to stop him from crashing on top of you.

“Sorry about that, little flower. Lost my balance,” he apologized. You both held each other’s gaze, the tension in the air was so thick it could probably be cut with a lightsaber. You broke away after a moment and that’s when you realized that your hands were placed on his bare chest. Heat rushed to your face and you promptly removed your hands, murmuring an apology under your breath. You could feel Kit’s eyes linger on you for a little longer before he began instructing you on the next takedown move.

“This one is fairly simple. I swing at you, you grab my arm, turn around, and flip me over your back.” You nodded along with his words, you’d seen this move done before and knew it wasn’t as difficult as the last one. “When I swing at you, grab my wrist, turn and pull me into your back. It has to be one smooth motion to let’s try just that a couple times,” Kit explained. You agreed and took your position.

Kit threw a punch and stopped when his arm was outstretched. “I grab the inside of your wrist, right?” You asked, and Kit confirmed. You grabbed his wrist with both hands and turned your back to him, pulling his arm across your chest. “Alright, good. Now do that again but pull me into your back.” You reset your positioning and breathed. Kit punched again but didn’t stop his arm this time, you grabbed his wrist and turned, pulling his chest to your back.

He collided into you with more force than you thought, you could feel the bare skin of his chest against your back where your top didn’t cover, you also felt something pressing into your ass. You froze. There was no way, this couldn’t be happening, the hardness against your ass was not what you thought it was. You tried to convince yourself and breathed in shakily, you pushed back on him accidentally while trying to move your foot and his other hand gripped your hip tight.

“Shh,” you heard him whisper. You tried to move away but he held you firmly and you just ended up grinding into him more, he groaned in your ear and your suspicions were confirmed. You could feel the wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs and your breathing become shallow. How long had he been hard for? His other arm you still had clutched to your chest and you felt his hand twist slightly, giving him the perfect angle to rest his hand over your breast. He squeezed gently and you barely bit back a moan.

“Master-”

“Just finish the move,” he rasped out, releasing his grip on your hip.

You pulled away and avoided eye contact as you moved to complete the takedown all the way through. You grabbed his wrist, turned, pulled his back to your chest, ignoring the feeling of his erection pressing into your ass again. In one smooth motion you, with the help of the Force, hoisted your master up and over you, sending him sprawling onto the mat. You kept ahold of his arm and your eyes met, you felt your pussy clench around nothing as his eyes were dark as night, filled with lust. You chanced a glance further down his body and saw the prominent tent in his shorts. Your mouth fell open and your eyes flicked between his eyes and his dick.

Tension and silence filled the room until Kit made a move.

He spun around on his back to face you and tugged on your arm that was still holding him, sending you toppling down onto him. Kit cupped your face with his other hand and crushed his lips to yours in a fiery kiss. It took a few seconds for your brain to register what exactly was happening, as soon as it did, you were kissing back. Kit parted his lips and ran his tongue over your bottom lip, nibbling gently, asking for entrance. You opened and Kit’s tongue entered your mouth, your tongues swirling together. Kit pushed off the floor and rolled you both over so he was on top of you, devouring you in his kisses. You wrapped your arms around his back and pulled him closer to you, Kit was holding himself above you with his arms and he experimentally ground his clothed cock against your center.

You broke away at the sensation of him grinding against you, you let out a loud moan and looked Kit in the eyes, he stilled. “Do you want this?” He asked, breathless. “Yes,” you breathed, “more than anything.” You pulled Kit down for another blazing kiss, during which you could feel his hands slipping under your tank top and pushing it up. You broke away just for him to pull it all the way off and toss it somewhere in the room. You wrapped your legs around his waist and Kit kissed you once more before moving down to suck and bite marks into your neck.

You almost couldn’t believe this was happening, had your master really had the hots for you the entire time and you had no idea. It was something you’d have to ask him later. A sharp nip to your collarbone had you crying out again and you wove a hand through his head tendrils. “Kit….” you moaned. He broke away from your neck and chuckled. “Needy, aren’t you?” He teased. He undid your bra and pulled it over your head, throwing that away also and revealing your breasts. You heard him curse under his breath and he gently took them in his hands. “You are stunning, my dear,” he cooed. You bit your lip and whined, watching as his mouth descended on one of your nipples. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his hands and mouth. You moaned as you felt his tongue trace around your pebbled bud, finally flicking over it a few times and sucking hard.

You mewled, feeling more slick seep out of you as Kit sucked on one breast and his hand massaged the other. He switched and gave your other breast the same attention, his other hand snaking its way down your body. Your nails scratched up Kit’s back but he seemed to be enjoying it, letting out moans and grunts while kissing and sucking your tits. His wandering hand found its destination and he rubbed your heat through your leggings, finding them wet through. He pulled away and sat up on his knees.

“Look at you, soaked through your leggings. Do you need me to take care of you, little one?” He asked. You nodded rapidly. “Yes, please Kit. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you pleaded. Kit chuckled and reached for the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off in one fluid motion. His eyes widened at the sight and he could feel his dick twitch in his shorts. Kit looked up at you. “No panties?” He questioned. “My my, such a filthy little thing you are.”

You whined again, desperate for any sort of attention where you needed it most. Kit spread your legs and watched as your folds parted, he groaned at the sight and ran two fingers up and down your soaking slit. You released high pitched moans and tried to stay still as the pleasure wracked through your body. “You’re positively dripping, starlight. Is all this for me?” Kit asked in awe. “Yes, all for you Kit. You a-always make me this wet…” you said, your body jolting with pleasure. Kit swirled his fingers around your clit and you nearly shouted, he moved them lower and sunk two fingers into your dripping hole. Your eyes closed, the electric feeling coursing through your body as Kit started pumping his fingers.

He kept them at a steady pace and you were about to beg for more when you heard him ask you to open your eyes. You opened your eyes and looked down your body to see that Kit had moved to lay between your spread legs. Before you could say anything he was licking long stripes up your cunt, flicking his tongue around your clit and slurping up all your juices.

“You taste heavenly, little flower,” he purred. Kit slipped his tongue inside and curled it, practically scooping your wetness into his mouth. Your eyes closed and your head flew back, your moans and cries of his name mixing on your tongue. His tongue felt like liquid gold inside you, reaching parts of you that you didn't know you had and dragging pleasure from your body like a talented artist stroking against his pliant canvas.

Kit removed his tongue and replaced it with his fingers while his tongue gave your clit attention. His fingers pumping in and out, their pace picking up and Kit curled them, hitting that secret spot of heaven inside you. Your hands flew to the back of Kit’s head and pressed him impossibly closer, your fingers entwining in his lekku. Kit continued to drown himself in your cunt, he was hard as a rock in his shorts and wanted nothing more than to sink into your warm body and stay forever.

Kit worked on repeatedly hitting your sweet spot with his fingers, he could tell you were getting close and he wanted you a wet slippery mess before you took his cock. He sped up the pace of his fingers making sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

"K-kit," you cried, "I'm, I'm close..” He broke away from your pussy to speak to you. “I know. Cum for me, little flower, soak my fingers,” he begged. Kit returned his mouth to your clit and sucked hard, your hips bucked up and Kit quickly held them down as your orgasm flowed through you. The pleasure was blinding and you threw your head back once more, ecstasy surging through your body, you saw white and opened your mouth to scream Kit’s name.

He worked you through intense bliss, he stopped his ministrations and sat up again watching you catch your breath, your eyes still closed. While you were distracted, he removed the rest of his clothes.

You slowly came down from the mind blowing orgasm that Kit gave you, you opened your eyes and whimpered at the sight before you. Kit was finally naked and Maker he was gorgeous. Now that you were allowed to look at him you noticed his broad chest and strong, toned body. The expanse of his pretty green skin got slightly darker around his thick cock. Kit had a knowing look on his face as you said nothing, only reached out for him, he took your hand in one of his and kissed the back of it lovingly. His other hand traveled down and slowly stroked over his length, you whimpered and mewled as you watched him touch himself. Kit could almost see more of your juices pouring out of you and he smirked. He took your hand in his other one and brought it to his cock where you wanted it.

He guided your hand up and down his shaft and you twisted your wrist as you worked him. His skin was even softer and you wanted it in your mouth immediately, you smeared around the clear and sticky precum leaking out of his pointed and swollen tip. The little grunts and groans that spilled from Kit’s lips were music to your ears, but you wanted to make him moan. You tugged a little harder on his cock and Kit’s chest rose and fell faster with his breathing. He suddenly clamped his hand over yours, stopping your movements.

“Your hands feel amazing, starlight,” he gasped, “but I’m not cumming without being inside you.” You gasped and Kit draped himself over the top of you again. You grabbed the back of his neck and brought him in for another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue and lips. “I need you to fuck me, Kit, please,” you begged. “I will, are you on-” “Yes, I’m on something, pleeeaasse,” you whined. You could feel his cock resting against your stomach and needed it inside your body. “Patience, little one. I’ll give you what you want,” Kit purred in your ear. He rested his forehead against yours as he reached down and slid his cock up and down your slit, collecting your juices. He pumped himself a couple times before lining up and pushing inside you slowly.

Your breath was stolen from you and your mouth hung open. Lords he was big. His cock stretched you deliciously as he continued to sheath himself within you. “Ooohh, fuck,” Kit groaned, closing his eyes as he bottomed out. You both stared into each other’s eyes, catching your breath and getting used to the feeling of being connected. Kit lowered his lips to yours, your walls were squeezing him so tight he didn’t know how he was going to pull out much. You once again wrapped your legs around Kit’s waist and dug your nails into his back. You had expected it to hurt when he entered you, given his size, but all you felt was mind numbing pleasure that encompassed your entire being.

You nodded once you were used to him and Kit slowly started moving, pulling out halfway before slamming back in. You yelped and begged for more. “Kit, please. I want you Kit, I need you to make me cum. Fuck, please!!” You rambled. Kit chuckled and picked up his pace, knowing he wouldn’t last long with how tight you were and how close he already was. “Stars above, YN,” Kit moaned, “fuck, you’ve got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever felt.” His pace increased again and he was slamming in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping together and panting filled the empty training room.

You kissed again and Kit reached down to play with your clit. Your sweaty bodies sticking together, both of you in a new kind of euphoria previously undiscovered. “Look at you, fuck, you look so beautiful like this. You gonna cum on my cock now, flower?” Kit panted. You had no words, none could enter your mind, the only thing you could think of was how good Kit was making you feel and how you never wanted it to stop. You nodded frantically, moaning loud and pulling Kit closer to you.

He pressed hard on your clit at the same time he bit onto your neck and you were sent over the edge of ecstasy. You screamed his name and convulsed around him, your cunt clamping down on him and gushing all over his cock. Kit released your neck and growled deep in your ear as his balls tightened and, with a few more thrusts, his seed was spilling inside you. You both stilled, connected together and finally sated.

After a couple minutes you fully came down from your highs and your eyes met. You smiled and Kit smiled brightly back at you, before you both started laughing. "This isn't exactly the way I had hoped you'd find out about my feelings for you," Kit confessed. You shook your head. "Me neither, but I'm glad it happened," you said. "Me too," Kit whispered, leaning down to kiss you again. You could feel Kit start to soften inside you but he made no move to pull away from you.

You nuzzled your nose into Kit's cheek. "I love you, Kit," you whispered. Kit in turn kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle. "And I love you, Y/N," he said. "My little flower." You both smiled and connected your lips in another kiss. You both barely heard the sound of someone clearing their throat until a familiar Kel Dor voice spoke.

"Well, what do we have here?"

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[yee-fxcking-haw]

What Happens Next?

A/N: Y'ALL I FUCKIN DID IT I FINISHED THE DAMN FIC. So I definitely bit off more than I could chew by making my first fic a multipart with so much fucking emotion and such a busy plot but lol we did it! Thank you to everyone who has read the story and asked to be tagged and sent me kind words I love y'all so damn much.

Warnings/Rating: 18+ explicit content, very soft romantic smut, unprotected sex, almost a blowjob, James finishes inside the reader. A lot of fluffy love making petty much a great time.

Summary: In the sixth and final chapter of this series, James and you finally figure your shit out. You have to stop running from each other, what you have is far too brilliant...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part Five

Playlist

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part Six

Annie's Diner

"I'm a nurse! I'm a nurse, let me see him!" A soft voice calls out over your shoulder. James' head turns towards the voice, his eyes fluttering back open.

"James?" You ask urgently.

"Relax doll, I was just restin' my eyes for a second. Fightin' off assholes is hard work."

He slowly raises to brace himself on his elbows, wincing a little while he does.

The nurse comes around and drops to her knees on the other side of him. She's a pretty little thing with honey colored hair and bright brown eyes.

"Just give us one second dear, I'm certain he's alright I just need to check for a concussion."

You don't answer, you just nod and get up to turn to the small crowd that's begun to disperse, seemingly disappointed with the lack of action.

This is an opportunity for you to finally take a deep breath and process everything that's happene. Air fills your lungs, shoulders rising and tensing for a moment. You release and let your posture fall back down, letting yourself portray outwardly how drained you feel inside. You've gone from hating James and being terrified of him, to being saved by him, to understanding him to… what now? If everything he's said is true, then everything that happened between you two is just as meaningful as it was before prom. Although, misunderstanding or not, it still hurt like hell. You should be more cautious, right? You shouldn't just run back into his arms like everything's fine, even though it is.

You turn to look back at him, long legs sprawled on the pavement while the alleged nurse checks his pulse and his pupils. He's joking about something, you can tell by the way his eyebrows are sitting higher and the lopsided smile on his face. He's propped up on his elbows, strong arms straining against his shirt. The image sends you back to the afternoon that changed it all, you remember his solid body collapsing onto your lap in a dramatic display of feigned illness. Your lips twitch into a small smile at the thought. You shake your head and walk back towards them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look worried about me doll." He jests, the nurse turns to glance at you and smiles fondly.

"Your fella is just fine dear, try and keep him on a shorter leash next time." She chuckles as she stands and dusts off her pretty green skirt, James follows, wincing as he stands.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the implication that James is yours, while he wears a very satisfied smirk at the idea. You swallow thickly and give her a silent nod. James thanks her sweetly for checking him, she says something back to him but you've completely zoned out. Her comment has senr you into a state of utter confusion. Is he your fella? No, you never established that. He did call you his girl though, so that would make him your fella. On top of that, what happened on the roof after Coney Island doesn't just happen between friends, not even friends with benefits. The way he held you so tightly, the way he littered kisses down your spine. Those aren't things you share with someone that doesn't belong to you.

The nurse politely ducks away to go back into the diner with the rest of the onlookers. Leaving you and James to stand alone in the dimly lit parking lot. His jaw looks much worse for wear, the skin is so angry and red. He'll definitely have a bruise, an ugly one at that. James lets out a long sigh, staring down at you with those big blue eyes. Despite it all, the idiot is still smiling. You scowl up at him, you cross your arms and lean to one side, refusing to let him crack you.

"You mad at me?" He asks timidly, he gives you an exaggerated pout while he lifts a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear.

You don't say a word. Of course you're mad at him. He scared you half to death, all for what? Just so he could feel like the tough guy? To prove a point to you? To prove a point to himself? He must have known the fight would end with him beat or worse and he has gall to ask if you're mad?

"Hey." He breathes, his hand comes to rest under your chin so he can tilt your face up with his knuckles. The gesture makes your heart flutter wildly.

"I get it, that was stupid, could've gotten hurt much worse and all that." He says, his eyes are gentle and attentive.

You huff and blink up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

"He just- he came in there talkin' all that shit about you bein' his. It pissed me off is all, you're not his. You're not really anybody's- I mean, I'd like to make you mine- but not in the way he meant. I don't want to own you, I wanna love you, doll. I wanna keep you safe and make you laugh and get my ass beat in skee ball and do all that other cheesy crap. I know I fucked up so badly, but baby please-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his little rant, the second he calls you baby your hands fly to the sides of his face. As it always does with him, your body moves separate from your mind. You smash your lips into his and you feel his hands settle on your waist, clutching you like you're going to float away at any second. That same baffling electricity thrums through your body as your lips move against each other. The rhythm of the kiss is like an echo of the one you shared on the roof. It has the same tide like push and pull, each of you giving and taking from each other in perfect unison. His lips are soft and urgent against yours, his grip solid and grounding. His hands slide towards each other behind you so his arms can find their home around your waist. The feeling makes you sigh against his lips. After months of being without this feeling, after only having it once, all you've done is want it back and now you have it again.

The kiss only breaks so you can both breathe, foreheads still pressed together, wanting to stay as connected as possible. He smiles down at you, it's a beautiful dopey grin. The look he's giving you makes a shiver run up your spine.

"You wanna go skinny dipping?" You ask, absolutely shocked at your own words.

What the hell? Did Molly fucking possess you? He scoffs and ducks down so his eyes are level with yours.

"Do I wanna what?!" He starts cracking up, and you can't help but join him, the absurdity of it all getting to you.

You can't help but think why the hell not. After all of this, all the confusion and the hurt, you two deserve a night like you shared months ago. Maybe you're an idiot, maybe you're only acting based on an emotional response to what James has done for you tonight. But fucking hell, why not just put it all behind you and live a little? James wants to be yours, he wants you to be his. You need to just let it be and stop fighting the way you both keep hurtling towards each other. So yeah, you want to go skinny dipping. It's the most impulsive, idiotic thing you can think of, and you've always wanted to try it.

"I think you know my answer." He chuckles.

"Let go then." You say quickly, turning on your heels so you can head to the truck before you change your mind.

"Woah kid wait up." He calls out to you while he laughs as he follows.

You reach the truck and swing the door open so you can hop in, he scrambles in as you frantically shove the keys in and crank it into gear.

"Hey." His soft voice snaps you out of your manic state. Your eyes dark to his and you feel your breathing slow down some.

"How 'bout we save the skinny dipping for another time?" He asks, voice soft and steady.

You just nod, becoming aware of how hard you were trying to be light-hearted and fun to mask how overwhelmed you're feeling.

"We don't have to move so fast, doll. We did last time and it didn't go so well, I don't wanna mess up this time." He says, his silvery eyes don't leave yours for a second.

Your head moves up and down silently again, you pull some air into your lungs slowly. He's right. You're trying too hard to make everything ok again. You just want to feel like you did on the roof, you want to be free of all the shit that's happened. James has a point though, you've both learned what happens when things move too quick for you both to keep track of it all. You have to be careful with it this time. Careful and boring are often mistakingly paired together, but not with James. It's undeniable that what you have with him is irreplaceable, which makes it all the more critical that you both handle this like it's made of glass.

"So, what do you want to do?" Your voice is so small, almost unrecognizable.

"I want to dance with you." He states, making your heart soar.

"Like, back at the dance hall?" You ask, the stress evident in your voice.

"God no, we can go to my house." He says it like it's obvious.

"Won't your family mind?" The idea of meeting them now makes you extremely anxious. It would be rather awkward to show up to meet his mother for the first time while he's wearing a shiner you half gave him.

"My Ma and my sister are at my aunt's house." He explains, his voice is laced with a tentative tone.

"Oh…" You exhale gently, understanding the situation.

"Only if you want to, I promise I'll behave." His tone shifts to something slightly taunting.

You can't help but smile, he's always quite the charmer.

"What fun would that be?" You chuckle, "Take me home, Bucky."

The nickname makes him smile in the most dazzling way, it stays glued to his face almost the whole way to his house.

James' House

You pull up to the front of an adorable little white house. It's very sweet looking, very simple and quaint. As the engine dies you glance over at James, he's looking at the house with a very solemn, spaced out gaze. Instinctively, you reach out and grab his hand, sliding your fingers between his own.

"I know…" You say as gently as you can. It's his dad, you know because you wear that look far too often. James just nods slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. You don't dare speak again, you just hold his hand. You don't need to say anything, you don't ever want people to say anything when you have the same feeling. All you can do is sit and understand him. Your chest fills with a horrible ache at the sight, but you're also filled with a strange relief. You aren't alone, and he isn't either. You have each other, you know each other, you get to love each other.

He lets the air fall out of his chest, face softening as he does.

"Thank you, doll." His eyes meet yours and he offers you a weak smile.

"Let's go inside." He says. He walks around to help you out of the truck, offering his hand like a gentleman. You want to slap it away out of instinct, but tonight is different.

He helps you down then wraps his hand around yours as he leads you up the sidewalk.

Before he opens the door he presses a kiss on the side of your head. It's quick and soft, and very different from the way he's kissed you before. Every other time it's felt like he prepared for it, and you had time to brace for it. This time it feels like he's used to doing it, like it's a natural thing.

The house is exactly what you would anticipate the home of a widow to look like. Decorated with lace doilies, soft blankets draped on the couch, and delicate lamps that cast a fuzzy yellow haze over the room. The living room is right off of the front door, and the kitchen is just an extension of it. A cute little staircase is on the left wall leading up to what you can only imagine is an equally quaint upstairs.

James walks confidently into his home, straight for the record player. As he fiddles with it you wander over to the fireplace. The mantle is littered in beautiful family photos, just like at your house. His father is in many of them, kissing his mom, holding a young James on his shoulder, cradling a baby you assume must be James' sister. He was handsome like James, but their faces aren't identical, you can see where his face is a balance of the two individuals. Your chest burns with remorse, knowing that these pictures serve as the only thing they have left of the man they all loved so well.

You startle just a little when James wraps his arms around your waist from behind, but relax when he presses a kiss into the side of your neck.

"It's alright, doll." He mumbles. You don't know if he says it for you or for him, but it doesn't matter. You let yourself sink further into the comfort of being known so well by James.

The music pops into existence, a gentle rhythm fills the room. The song is made of soft trumpets and strings, it's a beautiful, romantic melody. Something you would expect old lovers to sway to in their living room. You and James have the lovers part down, you just need to grow old and have your own living room. Is that even in the cards for you two? You sure as hell hope it is. You remember your realization on the roof that night, thinking about how if love isn't like what you two have, you don't want to love at all.

The feeling suffocates you as he spins you around in his arms. His eyes see right through you as his hands find their home on your waist while your arms slide around his neck.

"I love you doll, I never stopped." He breathes with an urgent look in his eyes.

He starts to sway with you around the living room as you gaze up at him completely dumbfounded. Of course he loves you, and you love him. Yes, you have so much left to learn about each other, but my God has James stolen your heart. Ever since you two left that classroom, you've been consuming each other's thoughts. You've been willing yourselves to try and understand the electricity that sparks between you. It's been so fucking messy, but now that you're in his arms again, dancing like an old married couple, you finally understand it all.

"I love you too…" You say it so softly it's almost not heard, but James catches it.

That dazzling smile spreads across his face, it's contagious nature making your own lips split into a grin.

"Would my outstanding skills in the bedroom have anything to do with that?" He says with a sickly sweet voice.

"James!" You laugh and slap his arm. He throws his head back to let out a playful laugh, the sound sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

"I wouldn't know what your skills are like in the bedroom anyway, I only know what they're like on a roof." You joke.

"We could change that." He says, his voice taking on a much lower tone.

You both freeze and stare into each other's eyes. The air around you feels so thick and the room starts to blur a little, everything except James.

Then you're on each other. Your lips crash together and your hands snag whatever they can. You let out a whiney noise from the back of your throat, which only spurs James on more. His hand grabs at your waist and he licks at your bottom lip. His actions inspire a wonderful heat to settle in your stomach, the feeling gives you confidence you've never felt before. You slide your hands up his chest to grasp his collar, silently begging him to come closer. The two of you break for air for only a second, eyes glued to each other as you pant and try to comprehend the fire growing between you.

"What are you waiting for, Bucky?" You tease.

A wild look spreads in his eyes and a wide grin overtakes his handsome face. Before you can make another witty comment, James brings his strong hands to the backs of your thighs and hoists you up so you can wrap your legs around him. You let out a shocked giggle but gladly welcome his choice to hold you like this. Now level with his face, you throw your arms around his shoulders and place a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrinkles his face dramatically and let's out a low chuckle.

"I'm gonna drive you wild, doll." He responds with all the confidence in the world.

Of course, his words make your chest ache with desire, your thighs involuntarily squeeze him a little tighter. With the natural push and pull that you two have, his body responds to your actions without thought. He lets his hands slide up to hold your thighs dangerously close to the swell of your ass, fire spreading to your center as he does.

"That's some big talk." You mumble, blinking at him slowly.

"It sure is." His eyes wander down to your lips, not even a second passes before you're on each other again. He damn near kisses the breath out of your lungs this time, his soft, skilled lips make you head spin and all you can do is hold on tight.

"Can I take you to my room?" He asks against your lips. His voice has a gentle, begging tone to it that makes you shiver.

"Please." You sigh as you let your hands slide into the soft hair on the back of his head. He kisses you hard and walks blindly up the stairs, then he's kicking the door open to what you can only assume is his room. You feel your body falling then feel your back meet a soft mattress. Bucky settles easily between your legs and your heart races when you feel how hard he is already. His hot mouth is on your neck instantly, painting your skin with needy kisses.

"Can I take this off of you?" He mumbles while he pulls at the fabric of your dress.

You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Gettin' right into it, huh?" You say.

He brings his hand up so he can hold your face and run his thumb across your cheek bone. His eyes are soft but determined as he studies your face.

"I don't wanna waste any more time." He says simply, the phrase is loaded with months of longing. His confession dazzles you, leaving you laying there with no idea how to breathe. All you can do is nod in understanding and revel in the feeling of his wet kisses against your neck again. He gently hikes your dress up to your waist, then quickly brings his hands back down so he can run them up your thighs. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs pressing on the bones so he can pin you down slightly as he rolls his hips against your center.

Your hands instinctively claw at his broad back as a hiss leaves your lips.

"Let me get on top." You sigh, completely shocking yourself with your boldness.

You feel him smile against your collar bone before his hands glide up to hold your waist. He flips you both over with ease, granting you your wish without argument. You catch your breath as you settle on his lap, hands splayed across his chest.

"I'm all yours, doll." His eyes fall down your body sinfully, making your chest seize up and your legs squeeze around him.

You lean down to capture his lips in yours again, sighing contentedly when he moves against you like he did when you kissed for the first time on the roof.

"I missed you." You mutter against his mouth.

"Let's make up for that, yeah?" He replies quickly as he moves to pull your dress over your head. You lift your arms and let him undress you as you sit back. Soon the dress is out of the way and his warm hands are holding your waist again, thumbs brushing up and down against your skin. You become suddenly ashamed of your lackluster underwear and you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch James' eyes skate down your figure. As if he senses you unease, he sits up and snakes his arms around your waist. He presses a delicate kiss into the swell of each of your breasts as you card your fingers through his hair.

"You're so perfect." He whispers against your skin.

"Can I take this off?" He asks, bringing his thumbs up to hook his fingers around your bra straps.

Somehow, everything about this feels even more innocent than the first time you two made love. Maybe it's the knowledge that you don't have to show off, talk dirty, or have all the hot moves in order to impress each other. You're both just enchanted by the presence of one another. Finally, you're both able to just be together. There's no fear of what people will say about you in school tomorrow, no terrifying rumor hanging over your head. Just you and James, able to lose yourselves completely in this wonderful moment you've found.

You carefully undress each other, leaving tender kisses on any newly exposed skin, whispering sweet nothings as well as declarations of devotion. You cherish every second that passes as you explore each other's bodies again. Soon you're both fully exposed to each other, your hands grasp desperately at his shoulder as soon as you feel his erect length graze your core. You think back to how his lips felt between your legs, and you immediately want to repay the favor. You slink down his body until you settle between his legs. His abs tense as you slide your palms up his muscular thighs.

You know Bucky is big, especially after last time, but being face to face with his dick makes you realize his size is genuinely intimidating. He looks beautiful like this, all flushed and hard. His tip is a pretty shade of dark pink, similar to his lips, and there's a small bead of precum leaking out of his slit. The sight makes you clench your thighs and lick your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He teases.

"I sure do." You flirt back, wasting no time in wrapping your hand around his length to give him one slow pump. He throws his head back with as you bring your lips to his tip and give it a chaste kiss.

"Tell me if I do something wrong, please." You say, the tremble in your voice revealing just how nervous you really are.

James shoots up instantly, grabbing the wrist of the hand that's around his dick while the other comes up to cup your face. His thumb slides across your cheek bone affectionately as he stares at you with his kind blue eyes.

"Doll, if you're not ready for that, don't do it." His voice is like rich hot chocolate, spreading through your body and warming every nerve.

"But, last time you- I figure I owed you…" It makes sense in your head, but by the look he gives you it doesn't make any sense to him.

"Baby," He breathes out, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Come here."

With gentle hands he pulls you into his lap so you can straddle him while he takes your face in his hands, gazing up at you with intensity.

"Anything I do for you, is because I want to. You don't owe me a damn thing. If you're ever not ready for something you tell me, and we can talk about it, ok?" His voice has a hint of urgency to it, like he can't stress the words enough.

You nod silently as you try to understand the man beneath you. Your brain desperately claws through your vocabulary to find the words to best describe the beautiful human being you've fallen for. All you can come up with is something terribly insufficient, but incredibly accurate. He's kind. He's a "heart if gold" kind of guy. Under the charm, the handsome face, the quick witted humor, James Barnes is the kindest person you've ever met.

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, following that involuntary reaction you've developed whenever you're around him. He kisses you back as fiercely as you kiss him, heavy breaths falling from his mouth as you work against one another. You can't help but whimper when you feel the hot skin of his dick slide along your drenched core.

"Make love to me, James, please-" You beg against his lips.

All he can manage is a moan against your mouth as he reaches down between you to grab himself so he can get lined up at your entrance. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's stolen from him as you inch down to slide the tip in. A beautiful, lustful sigh leaves his puffy lips as you do. It's still a harsh stretch for your walls, but this time you can anticipate it and welcome it. Slowly, you descend until he's in you completely. As soon as he's bottomed out you lean your forehead on his shoulder and let out a pitiful whine.

"You ok, doll?" He asks, nudging his nose against your jaw.

"I'm good, you're just so big…" You sigh. His grip on your waist tightens and you feel him twitch inside you.

"Careful sweetheart, don't want this ego getting any bigger." He teases, earning an airy giggle from you.

You brace yourself by holding his shoulders, rolling your hips tentatively. He kisses your neck when you do so and slides his arms around your waist, so you must be doing something right. You mimic the movement with a little more confidence this time. You can't help but bring your head up and send James a nervous glance, and he's more than willing to reassure you.

"That's good baby, that feels good." He says with a voice like honey as he skates his lips across your neck.

His praising words make your insides melt, spurring you on as you keep rolling against him. The way the soft skin of his dick moves against your soaked walls in euphoric. Your hands cling to each other, lips kiss where the can, short breaths fall from your mouth. All of it creates a truly beautiful atmosphere. It's nothing like the urgent, frantic mood you had last time. This doesn't feel like two teenagers who can't wait to see somebody naked for the first time. This feels like two people who want to be uncovered by each other.

His hands slide so he can spread his palms across your damp back and you shiver from the feather soft intimacy of the motion. Your forehead falls against his and your eyes lock.

"You're incredible." You sigh as brilliant sparks of pleasure start to build in your core.

You slowly build the pace of your hips until you're rocking against him with a rhythm that makes his nails claw at your back as he groans and pants. He's so deep inside you, reaching and rubbing against every sweet spot you have.

"Fuck- that's perfect doll- so fucking perfect." His voice has climbed in pitch slightly, he sounds almost whiney.

Your head falls to his shoulder, you shove your mouth against his collarbone in an attempt to muffle a pitiful sob as it shakes your abdomen. The feelings are all so fucking intense, your eyes screw shut as your walls start to flutter. Your chest aches as your head spins, completely incapable of comprehending all of the sensations drowning you in this moment.

"James- James I'm gonna-" Your words are cut off completely as one of his strong arms easily cradles you so he can flip you onto your back. You hit the mattress and he doesn't give you a single second to catch your breath before he's rocking his hips against yours.

"Fucking hell." You huff out as he plants his hands on either side of your head so he can bare down even more when he thrusts.

"I wanna see you, wanna see that pretty face." Both of you moan uncontrollably when you spread your legs even more to give him better access. Soon he's hitting some rapturous spot deep within you, setting off every nerve in your body.

Tears gather in your eyes and it takes every ounce of self control you have to not succumb to the desire to start crying beneath him. His body is moving so beautifully above you, every muscle working to give you everything he has. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall as you pull your bottom lip into your mouth to keep another sob caged inside you.

"Baby, don't hide anything." He says with a broken voice as he drops to his elbows so he can bring his face closer to your own.

"Cry if you need to, I got you." He punctuates his sentence with a stunning moan, and it absolutely breaks you. Your body trembles as you finally release all the emotion you've been suppressing. Your back arches and you finally let the tears cascade down the sides of your face. The sight of you falling apart beneath him, so fragile and overstimulated, it motivates him even more. His pace increases as he chants nonsense phrases of adoration to you.

He tells you how beautiful you are, how tight you feel, how good you are for him. All while your entire body quakes for him and his magnificent pace. You don't want to say his thrusts are hard, that word seems so utterly insufficient for how he's making love to you right now. His movements are committed, he fills you up with every push in and leaves you wanting so much more every time he draws back out.

"Baby you feel so good- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him as your cunt starts to pulse around him again, body edging towards that blinding release.

"No fuckin' way, I'm never gonna stop." He pants while his thick eyebrows push towards each other as his face crumples into a look of intense focus.

He braces himself on one arm so he can snake a skilled hand between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit almost immediately. It hits you immediately, almost before he even touches your sensitive bud. Your body anticipates his touch and sends itself over the edge, and my God it's fucking brilliant. Your pussy grips onto his cock as it slides in and out, your hands claw at his hot skin as his name falls from your lips. You sing him a pitiful song, made of incoherent swearing and plenty of crying.

"That's it sweet girl, give it to me- shit you're squeezin' the life outta me." You barely retain the words as he spits them out between frantic breaths as he chases his own high.

In one fluent motion, James flips your legs over each of his shoulders. He grabs the meat of your hips and lifts your pelvis off the bed as he brings his torso upright so he can settle back on his knees. If you thought you were crying before, you were fucking wrong. You scream out as tears flood your face, you can't tell if you're hurtling into another orgasm before your first has even finished, or if it's all just one long, mind numbing climax. Regardless, it's too good to be true. Every inch of you tingles and clenches as James snaps his hips into you, the angle sends fluorescent jolts of pleasure into your cunt and up your abs.

"Yeah doll, keep cumming for me, you feel so fuckin' perfect." He tosses his head back as he nearly shouts your name.

Your body starts to cool down just enough to provide some clarity. You're still twitching and tears are still rolling, but you at least have the wits to throw some praises at him. It's the least you can do when he's working so hard to make you fall apart.

"Fuck James, you made me cum so hard." Your words have an affect on him instantly, his fingertips bite at your flesh as hips tense and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"You make me feel so good baby, you drive me fuckin' crazy." He lets go of your hips and throws your legs apart so he can fall on top of you again. He presses his forehead against yours before his lips meet your own so he can kiss you like it's the last time he'll ever have the chance.

"Let me feel you cum James- fuck- do it inside me, I want you to cum inside me." Your hands are at the sides of his face, thumbs rubbing his temples affectionately as you lose your mind.

"Oh baby- shit doll- I'm gonna- oh my God- Fuck!" With that final exclamation he buries himself inside you, enchanting moans fall from his full lips as he tenses and fills you. You hold still and focus on the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you as he moans above you. His sounds are so full of relief and what must be exhaustion. Your eyes flutter open to observe him while he finishes. His eyebrows are high with his eyes shut and his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath while his orgasm fizzles out. His eyelids slowly peel apart and soon you're both watching each other. You're completely enthralled by the work of art above you, and he is entirely captured by the muse below him.

Slowly, like he doesn't want to ever leave, he inches his softening length out of you. You hate the feeling of him leaving your body, you hate how empty you feel. He presses a fond kiss to your forehead while he smooths some of your sweaty hair down.

"Don't move." He whispers. Then he's off of the bed and through his bedroom door, you assume to find something to get you both cleaned up.

Your body is still buzzing from every moment you've just shared with him, you gingerly roll to your side and pull the sheets up against your naked form. You pay little mind the mess spilling from your core, ignorant to the possible consequences it might have. You glance around his room, taking note of all the baseball cards, the toy cars, and the dirty sneakers. The room is bathed in the dull yellow streetlights, giving it a glow that seems otherworldly. It all does. Especially James.

He reappears with a washcloth and a glass of water. The sight makes your heart swell immeasurably, he's still naked but it doesn't strike you as anything to be bashful about. It's all of him, all of James and his unmatched beauty. It feels natural to be this exposed with each other, it feels right.

"Such a gentleman." You tease as he walks towards the bed so he can sit on the edge.

"For you? Of course." His smile is as dazzling as always while he hands you the glass of water. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can take the glass and sip it slowly. Thankful for the relief the cold liquid brings your exhausted throat.

"Spread those gorgeous legs." He says as he takes the glass back from you so he can set it on the nightstand.

"Round two already?" You joke.

His laugh is full and rich, it spreads through your veins and makes adoration bubble in your chest.

"Not yet, doll." He presses the cloth between your folds to clean up his mess, the sensation makes you jump a little, but he's done as quickly as he's started. The cloth joins a pile of dirty clothes in the corner after he tosses over his shoulder, then he's climbing back into bed with you. He opens his arms once he's on his back beside you. Naturally, you settle into his side and lay your head on his chest. His fingers trace along your spine as he kisses the crown of your head.

"You're a beautiful little thing." He mumbles, voice heavy with a sleepy tone.

"You're perfect, just perfect." It almost sounds like he's talking in his sleep, so you glance up to check.

He's wide awake, glacial eyes piercing your own as he gazes down at you.

"Thank you, for all of this." You say. By all of it, you mean for the love, for the spark of life, for the precious bond you've found. Somehow without saying all of it, you know he knows exactly what you mean.

"Thank you for loving an idiot like me." He says softly.

"It couldn't be anybody else." You say, completely resolute in your admittance.

You lay there like that for God knows how long, just drinking each other in. Mumbling words of praise, astounded by each other's existence. You exchange sweet little jokes, press priceless kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, and make beautiful promises.

"James?" You say as you draw figure eights on his chest with your finger tip.

"What happens next?" You question.

He takes a deep breath in as he twirls your hair between his fingers.

"Well-" He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening. You both bolt upright off the bed, clinging to the sheets. The sounds of lovely, soft laughter fills the house. One is the laugh of a woman, full and warm, the other is bright and twinkly, obviously belonging to a younger girl.

"Shit." You whisper simultaneously as you glance at each other with pounding hearts.

"James?" The woman's voice calls.

"Yeah ma?" James hollers back, hand coming to hold yours as he tries to keep his mouth straight, obviously entertained by the misfortune of the situation.

"Whose truck is that out front?" She asks, then footsteps start to echo as she climbs the stairs.

"Oh my God." You whisper.

"I guess you're meeting my mom, that's what happens next." He says quietly. Your eyes are on his immediately, every reasonable part of you says to panic, but the look on James' face is absolutely priceless. His cheeks are pink as he pulls his lips over his teeth to keep from busting out in laughter. It's ok though, you do it for him. Soon you're both doubling over with laughter, embracing the inevitable awkward encounter that you're about to have with his poor mother. It'll be ok, it'll be wonderful, anything will as long as you two stick together.

Taglist:

@b-o-n-e-daddy @lillsrecs @all-art-is-quite-useless @brownlee-22 @peace-love-hobbitness @pinknerdpanda @supernaturalwintersoldier @can-i-sin-right-now @pennyroyalcreep @jessyballet @calwitch @aurora-sweet @learisa

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Girl Group | Pepper Potts, Laura Barton, Wanda Maximoff, & Sharon Carter

Hi y'all— I was going to work on other things and then I saw this post from @imaginearyparties and got inspired to write about these women having a support group of sorts. I hope you enjoy this heal piece— I spent too long today writing it LOL

Synopsis: The story of four not so unlikely friends and how their girl group saves them.

Characters: Pepper Potts Stark, Laura Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Sharon Carter

Tags: Angst, mentions of death, funerals, toxic men, alcohol, girl friends, positive female relationships, Laura Barton being a mama bear, Pepper and Wanda and Sharon losing their shit

Word count: 3.2k

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It starts as an accident— it starts at a funeral. Three funerals, actually; Tony would have wanted to share his with the Widow and the Robot, after all.

Pepper Stark, Sharon Carter, Wanda Maximoff, and Laura Barton stand in a broken line in front of the water, all suspended with the same overarching, mixed feelings of dread and peace. For four women who look strikingly different from one another— especially Laura as she stands shadowed under Pepper’s goddess frame— they all do look quite indistinguishable. Maybe that’s just the black, though— maybe mourning blurs individuals into masses.

“I don’t think I can do it.” Pepper doesn’t cry when she admits her fears— she doesn’t have any tears left. “I don’t think I can raise her on my own.”

Laura, who’s been holding her hand for the better part of three days, squeezes it gently. “You aren’t alone, Pep. You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have a home with me.”

Laura and Pepper may be vastly different— an off the grid, stay at home mom and a business tycoon CEO— but the brunette means every word; she has since Tony introduced Pepper all those years ago.

Pepper nods. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“She’s something special,” Sharon pipes in from the other end of the line, her shoulder brushing a silent Wanda. “I could never.”

Sharon doesn’t know either of them as well as they know each other but still she stands by their sides, her own black dress just as itchy as theirs— sisters now branded together in the inevitabile uncomfort that comes with loss. She can’t stay long— she knows that— but Wanda had called her out of the blue, somehow, sounding more lost than ever, and the blonde has never been one to turn down a girl in a spiral.

Or, in this case, three.

Laura laughs lightly, sounding just as tired as she looks, and Wanda rubs her arm absentmindedly, her own voice a whisper compared to the other, stronger women. “I think I would have wanted children. Vis and I spoke about it a few times. Thinking about it now, though, it seems silly.”

Barely twenty-six and basically a widow herself, Wanda can’t feel her fingers shake as she tightens the cardigan around her shoulders. Sharon notices and acts— she’s good at that— taking her fingers and wrapping them in her own.

“It’s not silly— you would be a great mother.” She then projects her voice back to Pepper. “And you’re already a great mom, Pepper. You have a great kid.”

She’s not very good at comforting people but she has to try. Neither of the women comment back, but that’s okay. Sharon isn’t really expecting them to.

Instead, Wanda rests her head on the blonde’s shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Sharon sighs— both from the way Wanda tries to hide her disappointment and from her own disappointment that’s bubbling in her throat. Because she is— disappointed— in the world and in some of the men in their lives. How Sharon Carter always manages to surround herself with men who can save the world but can’t find a spare moment to save her, she doesn’t know, but she can’t find it in herself to feel guilty over her anger.

“Tomorrow, probably.” She says bitterly. “You’re okay with me crashing one more night on your couch, right?”

Wanda could scoff— in fact, she does— Sharon should already know the answer. “I’d be okay if you crashed the rest of your life on my couch. I’d be okay if you all did.”

There’s more silence— it’s becoming a staple in their renegade band of misfit moms and runaway fugitives— and in that silence they unknowingly take a collective step closer together. Mourning gravitating towards mourning, women gravitating towards each other— Pepper throwing her arm around Laura’s shoulders and managing to give Wanda an I hear you scratch.

Laura— soft, sweet, tired Laura— is the one who breaks the silence—

“I have two bottles of Moscatto?”

�� and for the first time in three days, Wanda laughs.

“I have a bottle of Stolichnaya— and every season of Bewitched.”

It progresses into a semi-regular thing after that— branching from funerals (and the sleepovers that follow them) into more casual, running-from-the-law type gatherings.

Wanda and Sharon stand once more in black, only this time they aren’t mourning— they’re getting ready for a party and standing around a shiny macbook air.

“What’s this function you two are going to again?” Laura’s voice— still tired but this time in a significantly less existential way— crackles through the speaker.

Her video, which is taking up half the screen, displays that of a full grown woman in a pink and darker pink striped onesie and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. In the background, just visible enough to read, her stovetop flashes 5:46. Similarly, on the other side of the screen, Pepper’s messy knot of red hair— and her significantly more adult pyjamas— are illuminated by the glow of her alarm clock. 6:46.

“It’s just an art show—” Sharon answers, smiling into the camera for a quick moment before going back to righting the studs in her ears— “You know you didn’t have to wake up so early. You should both be getting as much sleep as possible— I hear being a mom is tough work.”

Both Laura and Pepper share a laugh at that and Wanda smiles too, not missing the tinge of you’re crazy for having kids in Sharon’s voice.

Laura takes a sip from her mug, humming her agreement. “It is but you know I wouldn’t miss our calls for the world. Besides, Clint is worse. The lug woke me up at five on his way out the door to check the frost damage. Husbands are more work.”

For a moment no one says anything and none of them can tell if it’s because everyone’s in their own little world of coffee and clothing or if it’s to give the two red heads a moment to clear their throats.

“Don’t I know it.” Pepper sighs.

Laura’s eyes, even through the screen, flash with sympathy but she doesn’t retract her statement or apologize. She knows she doesn’t need to— that’s not how their little group works. There’s no use in apologizing for things you can’t fix— especially not to Pepper.

Instead, Wanda turns to her sister-in-hair and asks her outright: “How are you holding up?”

Directness is always the best approach— it always garners an honest answer.

“I feel like shit.” Pepper laughs. “Half the time I can’t sleep and the other half I can’t drag myself out of bed. If it weren’t for Morgan I don’t know what I’d do. Rot, probably.”

Wanda huffs, turning so that Sharon can zip her silk dress. It’s significantly more comfortable than the one she had worn half a year ago. Bless Sharon Carter and her affinity for designer clothing.

“Can we consider Sharon my child then? Because without her I’m pretty sure I’d be in the same boat. Making sure she doesn’t burn down the apartment when she makes dinner is the only thing keeping me going.”

“Hey!” Wanda receives a light whap for the comment but it’s landed lovingly— after all, Sharon knows she can’t cook.

“You ladies are eating enough, right? And properly?” Laura chimes in, ever the mother in a group of moms.

Sharon and Wanda share a look that has Laura groaning from her dark kitchen table— not even time zones can stop her from worrying about the youngest members. She stands quickly to refill her mug and, as she does, hears the giggled response of—

“Does red wine and leftover burgers count?”

Laura doesn’t think it can get worse until Pepper chimes in. “I see we’re all on the same diet then.”

For a moment Wanda and Sharon disappear, most likely to look through Sharon’s collection of jewelry, and in their absence Laura and Pepper share a short, but very much needed, conversation.

“You’re still off work right now, right?” Laura asks, resting her heavy head in her hand.

Pepper nods once, rooting around the top of her side table for the damn remote— it’s like Tony’s still here, misplacing all her things. “Yeah— I don’t know when I’m going to go back. It’s just— it’s too soon, you know? I don’t know if I can. I don’t— god where’s the fucking remote! I could have sworn—”

Laura cuts Pepper off as her voice begins to turn frenzied— begins to crack. “I think you and Morgan should come stay with me for a little while. Like, for a few weeks. I think it would be good for you.” She watches Pepper cringe and before she can object, adds— “and for me. Clint’s been working a lot recently. I could really use some good company.”

Laura may be the simplest woman in the group but by no means does that make her the slowest— she knows the only way to get Pepper to agree to her idea is to play to her own motherly instincts.

As she’s expecting— it works. “Are you absolutely sure we wouldn’t be putting you and Clint out in any way?”

Laura can hear the exasperated relief starting to drip into her friend’s voice and has to swallow the lump in her own throat. “Of course it wouldn’t be— you’d never be putting me out, Pep.”

Pep. She hasn’t heard that in a while. She misses it— she misses a lot of things. A lot of people. The Bartons being some of them. It’s why she caves.

“Okay.”

Just as Laura nods— and finishes the last of her second coffee— the two fugitives that have been absent come ambling back, now dripping in flashy gemstones and expensive watches. Time has passed, enough that the girls have to scramble for the finishing touches of their outfits— something which can be heard when Sharon asks Wanda where she left the lipgloss.

“It’s already in my bag— your lips are glossed to perfection, stop worrying.” The red head fluffs her mane quickly before turning to the screen with a slight pout on her lips. “I can’t believe we just started the call and now we have to hang up. I hate time zones.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Pepper coos, “you both look incredible.”

“Edible.” Laura chimes in, giggling. “Go enjoy yourselves.”

The girls echo each other’s thank you, dallying with their goodbye’s but reiterating their I’ll call you later’s.

As an afterthought, right before Sharon can hit the power button on her macbook, Laura also adds— “Make sure to drink water!”

In no time semi-regular becomes regular and soon they all have a favourite hangout spot. Unfortunately, none of their favourite spots coincide with the others.

“You know—” Laura groans as she plunks down in her seat at the high up table— “I still don’t know what a gastropub is?”

“Tough—” Pepper rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her diet coke and tutting at her friend. “We all know you would rather be at the Starbucks down the road but some of us need more than coffee to run, Mrs. Barton.”

She’s decided to lay off the rosé for a little while and, in a show of solidarity, so has everyone else. Laura hmphs into the ginger ale that had already been waiting for her on the table but can’t keep the grin from turning up her lips— after all, Pepper’s right; she does want coffee. Wanda swirls her own cherry coke, giggling at their antics. Secretly she’s thinking the same thing but it was Pepper’s choice this time and she’ll eat just about anything.

“It’s a fancy word for comfort food—” Sharon snorts, actually answering, her eyes glued to the menu between her and Wanda as they decide which appetizer they want to share— “an easy way to cheat you out of twenty-six bucks for mac n’ cheese… Hey, look at these— buffalo cauliflower bites— you wanna’ try them?”

The red head nods enthusiastically. “You know I’ll take any chance to pretend to be healthy.”

The blonde laughs, shaking her head. “You’re literally perfect, Wan— all those fancy spells have to be burning, like, what? A thousand calories an hour?” Sharon turns her eyes to the other women who’re already listening with knowing grins. “You should’ve seen the men in Madripoor— and the women! Falling all over her— it was incredible!”

“Oh says you.” Wanda giggles back, catching the other red haired woman’s attention.

Pepper reaches across the table, swatting Sharon’s hand gently and whining. “You didn’t tell me about any men! Now I feel left out.”

“Don’t—” Sharon assures her, sobering suddenly at the topic change— “there are no men. I’m done with them— they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Even the ones you think are good.”

Especially those ones, she wants to add but keeps it to herself. Everyone here already knows how she feels anyway, mostly towards a certain golden-boy super-soldier. She lost everything for him— her home, her job, years she could have spent with her family— and for what? Just so he could turn around and literally fight time itself to be with her great aunt? To think, some women get a man who will invent time travel to be with them and she had to all but beg a man to clear her name for aiding a super hero.

Yeah— she’s still bitter, even after Sam worked his Captain America card to get her off the bureau’s watch list. It sure is funny how the literal Winter Soldier got his pardon before she got hers but— hey— that’s misogyny for you. She chases the acid in her mouth with a sip of orange soda. Fuck men.

“You know you can talk about it.” Laura reminds her gently, setting her own menu down— she doesn’t really need to look at it, she orders the same thing everytime.

“What’s there to talk about? I risked my life for him and he screwed me over. I get it— he’s more of a hero than I’ll ever be— but I guess I was kind of figuring I would get saved with, you know, the rest of the world. Sue me, I guess.”

Wanda slips her fingers between Sharon’s, nodding along. “I think some people forget that he—” she avoids saying Steve’s name; it’s for the best— “was as human as the rest of us. That he could be just as selfish as the rest of us.”

“And that they can get tired, too.” Pepper adds, her mind on Tony— her mind is always on Tony.

“And that they’re just like us— even if they think they’re not allowed to be.” Always the mother, Laura frowns at Wanda because, although she’s also thinking of her husband, the ginger needs to hear it as well.

“Whatever.” Sharon grumbles as she spots their waiter approaching, her mind shifting from her fallout with America’s golden-boy to the twenty-six dollar mac n’ cheese she’s going to obliterate. “I think I hate men. I’m happy just being with you.”

As has become custom, she receives three reactions: an awe from Laura, a me too from Pepper, and a kiss to her cheek from Wanda. It’s in that moment that she knows she isn’t lying— she really is content with her small group of girls.

They even— eventually— go on vacation together.

Four girls— two gingers, one blonde, and a brunette— lounge around a deliciously quiet poolside, soaking in as much of the Grecian sunshine as they can. One of them— the youngest— soaks in a little too much. Thankfully her friends are keeping a closer eye on her than she is.

“Wanda, you’re going pink. C’mere honey.” Laura sits up on her deck chair, patting the spot next to her. “Let’s touch your sunscreen up.”

Wanda— warm with sleep and sun— doesn’t put up a fuss, slipping in front of the brunette and pulling her hair into a sloppy bun to save it from the zinc cream. She sighs into Laura’s touch, her eyes closing as the woman works her thumbs into her shoulders. Laura Barton gives quite possibly the best back rubs on the planet. Well, besides Vision— his were better.

Wanda doesn’t realize that she’s balled her hands into fists until Laura’s soft voice breaks past her barrier. “What’s on your mind, sunshine?”

Sighing, the witch answers her friend honestly. “I miss him. Vis, I mean. It’s not fair. It’s just—”

“It’s not fair.” Laura finishes for her, hearing the crack in her facade and pushing— sometimes you just need a little bit of a gentle push. “It’s not and you don’t have to pretend like it is.”

Okay— maybe it’s not as gentle as she thinks it is.

“I hate it!” Wanda snaps, her tiny hands balling once more and pounding against her thighs. “I feel like I’m dying all the time— I feel like I died when he did! And no matter what I do now I screw it up! I hate it, Laura— I hate everything!”

The small witch’s furious rage quickly fizzles into heart wrenching sobs and Laura— just as quickly— plasters herself to Wanda’s back the same way she had done with the sun cream. She trembles in Laura’s hold— a mini storm in a cage of limbs and hair— and Laura just pets her head because this has been due for too long.

“I know, sunshine— we’re alone now, though. You can cry it out. No one’s going to hold it against you.”

“I— I hate— I—” Wanda can’t even finish her sentence— she hasn’t been able to for a year now.

Soft hands land on her knees and she cracks an eye open to a more composed— but still crying— Pepper. “I hate it too, hun. I hate everything.”

Pepper’s skin— unlike Wanda’s— has gone a golden brown in the sun, her freckles emerging one by one over the week which Wanda gets a closer view of when Pepper wraps her arms around her. She smells like strawberry daiquiris and salt and Wanda cries harder, clinging to the woman who is stronger than she ever will be.

A cold, wet hand lands on the back of her neck— the cold, wet hand of Sharon Carter— and with it comes one more— “I fucking hate everything.”

And, for some reason unknown to her, Wanda laughs.

She can’t help it— life sucks. Death sucks. Men and calories and loss suck. But her friends? No, they don’t suck. Not even when they’re with her at three-in-one funerals— not even when they’re half a world away. Especially not when they’re in Greece, holding her while she cries and laughs like a complete and utter maniac.

No— their little girl group doesn’t suck at all.

“I hope you all know how much I love you.” Wanda laughs around a particularly raucous sob— “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Laura is the one who answers— the universe wouldn’t be right if she wasn’t— “We know it, honey.”

The universe also wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t Pepper who gets the last word.

“Is anyone else feeling some pizza right about now?”

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Just a Little Longer

Nam Joon x Reader

Summary: You are an idol signed by BigHit and you are very close to the boys, you've always had a crush on Nam Joon and he confesses to you that he likes someone.

Words: I don't even know, longer than my assignment for sure.

Warnings: A LOTTA FLUFF friendship fluff?????

Note: not proofread, also its been a while since I wrote I’ll get better.

MASTERLIST  PROMPTLIST

Hiii, so this is my first BTS fanfic, hope y'all like it. I think this will turn into a series, let me know what y'all think of that. Jin is my bias but Nam Joon and Yoongi are here to wreck it anytime anyday. Honestly I just want to be friends with them. I want to be in the gang. That's all.

-----

You were a female idol signed on to BigHit Entertainment around the time BTS was signed on. You and BTS were very close, army and your fans got used to it after a while. There were tons of times where you would look out for each other. You also recently became and international idol following BTS, they would look out for you at all the award shows you were both at. Taehyung would even walk you to the stage and up the stairs.

You were a part of the family. You would surprise them at their concerts, go on trips, bomb their Vlives. There were YouTube videos titled "BTS looking out for (Y/N)" online. You were a solo artist so you got grouped up with the boys often and the fans liked seeing you with them too. So they often let you tag along to shoots and even be a part of them sometimes.

You were a 94' born. So Tae, Chim and kookie called you noona. You were the closest to Yoongi, you vibed with him the best. You were the same kind. Maknae line were your babies, you pampered them a lot.

You were on your way to surprise the boys at the "BTS In the Soop" house. They thought it would be a good idea for you to make a special appearance on the show.

The boys were already there for a day. You were all packed taking in the air, you drove to the destination. You were excited, you hadn't seen the boys in a while because of a busy schedule but you were in touch via messages. Tae would send you regular updates about his life.

You pull up at the house and push the door open. Tae and Jimin were playing ping pong outside, you would see Hobi flying his glider. You smiled and got out. Jimin's attention went to the car and the ball hit his face. Tae and hobi burst out laughing, you also let out a chuckle. "(Y/N) Noona" he yells and you wave at him frantically.

As soon as he says that, all three boys turn heads to your direction. You keep waving and they rush towards you. Suddenly you are jumped at by 3 grown men almost knocking the air out of your lungs. You couldn't help but laugh. "Hi guys, miss me?" You ask. Hugging them all back. Tae nods. "I knew today would be a good day" hobi ruffles your hair. "What have you been upto, did you forget about us" you laugh to that as if you could forget your 7 best friends.

"Where's everyone else?" You ask looking around. "Yoongi Hyung should be in the Campervan, I think Jin Hyung and Jungkook are fishing and NamJoon is reading in his room." Jimin responds and Tae gets your luggage out and rolls it out. You take your luggage from Taehyung saying a quiet thank you. You roll out your luggage to the living room and walk towards the upper house, the boys go back to whatever they were doing before you came.

You walk to the upper house and spot the campervan. You open the campervan to surprise Yoongi. "Yoongi Oppa, Suprise!" You yell as soon as you open the door. He's so startled he almost three his equipment. "(Y/N) what are you doing here? I was so startled" he says holding his heart. You laugh your heart out at his reaction. "I'm sorry" you say and sit down next to him. "Whatchu working on?" You ask and he hands you one side of his earphone. It was his new project.

"How long are you here for?" He asked you. "I think until the end, no one told me anything" you say.

The door suddenly slams open. You and Yoongi jump, yoongi was holding his heart again and you were holding on to the table for dear life.

"JUNGKOOK" you yell.

"I'm going to die of a heart attack today" You hear yoongi mutter under his breath.

"(Y/N) Noona" he waves his hands at you and you slowly step out of the van to hug his big frame. "Did you grow taller in 3 months?" You ask. "I hope I did" he answers. He drags you to see Jin at the house. You see Hobi and Jin prepping something. "Jin Hyung close your eyes" Jungkook says and tries to hide you behind the door.

"What's this now?" He asks thinking it's one of Jungkooks pranks. "I have a present" he says. He does as the youngest says and closes his eyes.

You position yourself right infront of Jin. You feel his hand pat your head. "Is it a big plushie?" He asks with his eyes closed. You stiffle a chuckle.

"Open your eyes" Jungkook instructs and Jin looks at you. "(Y/N)" he squeals and hugs you. He jumps up and down with you in his arms. "I missed you" you laugh. "I've missed you too"

You smell something burn. "oh my fish" he screams and runs back to the kitchen.

Hobi Jungkook and Jin were making lunch, you always loved watching them cook. It was therapeutic. You also helped out when you could. "Is NamJoon still reading?" You ask in the air waiting for someone to answer. They all look at each other awkwardly before one of them says "You'll see him at lunch" you nod and continue eating the chips lying around.

------

You were rolling out your luggage to the floating house that's where you will be staying for the rest of the days here. The boys offered to switch but you wouldn't let them, it has to be fair. You were heading out to lunch with Taehyung who was hanging out in your room until lunch was ready and you unpacked.

"Your hair has grown out, can braid it later?"

"Only if you massage it too" he smirks and you nod. "Alright, after lunch" you salute to him playfully.

He warned you about bugs and how you'll have to gulp you food as soon as you see it or you will end up eating a bug. "I think I swallowed one yesterday" he says making a face that screamed disgusting. He makes you laugh and you smack his arm lightly.

You see Nam Joon from a distance. "Nam Joon-ah" you yell for him to hear you. You run to him to give him a hug. He puts his arms around you but loosely. It felt weird, this is not how he usually hugs you, something wrong but you let it go for now. "The boys told me you've arrived" he says pulling back. He flashes a warm smile.

You look at him, giving him an 'Are-you-okay' face and he understands it immediately and softly nods at you.

"Thank you for the food" Jimin yells in the back and you both head to the table.

"One more mouth to feed" Jin says jokingly and shakes his head. "C'mon, you know you love me" you respond that immediately left Hobi bursting out in Justin Bieber's Baby in the middle of lunch in his adorable English. You all have a big laugh.

------

You were all gathered in the living room now and Jimin was rapping??? Leaving you and Hobi laughing, you could feel your sides cramping up, gasping for breath as you laugh. "What activites did you ask for?" Taehyung asks.

"I brought my sketchpad and some books to read" you respond.

You stick your hand out to his hair and comb through, "Braid time" you say and he turns around, back facing you. Jimin hands him the mic and he sings some BTS songs while you braid his hair. "I'm so sleepy" he says, it's the effect of the head massage. He gets up from in front of you.

"I'm going to go nap" you nod. You see Jungkook already passed out in the living room. Hobi was still building blocks. You walk out of the room to the deck.

You look out to see Jin fishing, trying to Fish.

"Should I come pick you up?" He yells from afar. "It's okay" you yell back and look out in the distance. You see Jin's boat coming towards you. "Hop in" he says holding the boat still and he sticks one arm out.

"Where do you want to go, Juliet?" He asks dramatically once you've settled. "To your heart, Romeo" you play along trying not to laugh. "Extra points for playing along" he says laughing. You fake bow in the boat.

He casts his line and you wait. The scenery was beautiful. "It's so pretty out here" you talk to no one in particular. "Gets better in the night" Jin says waiting for fish.

"Jin oppa" you call to get his attention. "Is Joonie okay? He's been acting weird" you say. You were concerned about him. "He was okay yesterday, I don't know maybe if we let him be, he'll come back" Jin suggest. NamJoon always has been the type to go off on his own for a while and come back feeling better. "Maybe" you mutter and look around.

-----

You had played a bunch of games, had dinner, got drunk with the boys by the fire. It was almost cinematic, you forgot how at home and peaceful they made you feel. You still couldn't get around talking to Nam Joon and you were determined to do it. It was almost midnight. You all had turned your mic off put it away and gotten ready to get into bed. You hear some footsteps outside. You get up to check who it was.

You see a man bent over the railing of the deck looking at the river. It was almost 1am. You recognize the man. Nam Joon.

"Hey Stranger" you say sneaking up behind him. He almost jumps. "(Y/N)" he gasps. You go to stand next to him.

"Can't sleep?" You ask.

He nods playing with his finger rings. "What's wrong" you ask really concerned, hoping he'll spill and feel better.

"There's just been a lot on my mind"

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing in specific"

"Tell me anyway, I'm here to listen"

You hear him take a breathe.

"There's someone I like but telling the person or acting on it is not going to do any good for either of the parties but I don't know what to do, do I let it go?"

"woah" you were taken aback, Nam Joon doesn't open up this quickly you didn't expect it either. You expected some vague things about his career. You heart sank. You used to crush on him where you were a bit younger but you thought you outgrew that? Guess not.

"Telling her won't work?"

"No, it won't, I can't date. Not with this schedule and this kinda career but what if I let it go and I don't get a chance like this again"

"Are you scared of missing out on love?"

He slowly nods. "I guess, I mean I love my career, I love the boys I love how far we've gotten, but it's taking everything, especially my youth."

You were dumbfounded. You didn't know how to respond to all of this. You didn't even know how he felt.

"Are you sure she's the one?" You ask.

"No, how can anyone be sure about anything so early on? I'd love it if she was but we'll have to try to know and the trying can't happen in the first place"

Your always amazed by his maturity. "I think if you really like her, you should give it a go tell her how you feel, just to get it off of your chest, even if you know for a fact it's not going to work out, and if it does work out, well good for you. Right?"

He slowly nods. "Do I just tell her?" He turns to you. you can feel his eyes pierce through your soul even in the night. It's like he knows what he does to you and continues to do it.

You nod to his question. "You'll feel better"

"Okay" he nods to himself as if he's encouraging himself to do it. You had an immediate urge to hug him, you put your head on his chest and your arms around his back. He likes someone else, why does that bother you? It was a stupid crush, two years ago, what is wrong with you? You ask yourself.

"Are you okay (Y/N)" he asks. You nuzzle further into him.

"I thought you needed one" You needed one.

"You have feelings too, you robot, why do you supress them so much?" You mumbled. He chuckled. "I don't like to talk about them" he brushes your hair.

"You should"

You try to pull back but he hugs you tighter.

"Just a little longer, please" you happily oblige. He did need a hug after all.

Are you crushing on him again? Are you ready to get your heart broken?

-------

Don't ask I don't even know, I think I'll make this a series, let me know what you think of my first BTS imagine, a lot more to come, I'm obsessed with these boys.

Masterlist

Promplist

[jimmythejiver]

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

[gaylotusthatexists]

just like him

pairing: This is just Roman being sad so no pairings per se but. creativitwins is strong in this one

summary: After... certain things are said, after things go a little too far, Roman recounts his days with his brother, Remus, and wonders if he's really the purely good prince everyone says he is.

trigger warnings: crying, negative thinking, just a general mental breakdown, sad ending kinda, honestly i’m so sorry about this. also deceit and remus make an appearance 

word count: 1987

a/n: soooooo that video huh. yeah uh i'm sad. basically. but also the video was awesome and led me to think of some angst which is f u n. honestly i just wanted to explore roman's feelings regarding remus and after yesterday's video. let's just say i got some ideas. anyway, this is set directly after yesterday's video, so obvious spoilers ahead. hope y'all enjoy ^^ (tagging @theloveliestsweetspongy​ he’s some roman angst for you)

ao3

Roman bit his lip, trying to suppress the tears close to escaping from his eyes. Deceit - Janus couldn't have been telling the truth, right? Of course he wasn't, he didn't do that. He was just... trying to get a rise out of Roman. Like always. But Roman wouldn't let him, he couldn't be defeat by him.

But, deep down, Roman knew he was... no, not right, but...

God. What if he was like Remus?

He leant back, smacking his head against the wall, and closed his eyes, breathing out. He wasn't bad like Remus. He couldn't be. He was the Prince.

It had been nice at first, to have a brother. Back when the two of them first formed. With two of them, it meant that they always had someone to be with, always had someone to play with. And they didn't quite understand how or why there was now two of them, but... they weren't about to complain. They had a brother.

And Remus wasn't so bad at first. Sure, he was loud, and a little obnoxious at times, and maybe now and then he'd say things that he probably shouldn't. But Roman was the same! They were both Creativity. They could create together, share ideas - Roman's ideas were really the only ones that got through to Thomas, but Remus... tried. And Roman loved him for that. He loved how the two of them could have a laugh together, create something even if the others didn't like it. It didn't matter back then.

Until it did begin to matter. Until Roman realised what exactly was going on.

There was a gentle knock on his door. Roman threw his covers over his head and hid, ignoring the person walking into his room. Maybe if he stayed underneath the covers, they would think that he was sleeping, or something, and go away.

They didn't. Someone sat on the edge of his bed, stroking his shoulder through the blanket. Roman tried to remain as still as possible and closed his eyes, willing himself away from this.

Roman wasn't supposed to be like Remus. From the sounds of it, he wasn't even supposed to like Remus, period. He'd been told time and time again that he was the good guy, the hero, the Prince of Thomas' dreams. And he'd been told that Remus was the bad guy, the villain, that he was only trying to hurt Thomas. And, yeah, maybe Remus crossed the line every now and then - well, a lot of the time, actually - but that was fine! Thomas knew not to actually do what Remus said, if it was going to harm him. And Roman was still around to make actual contributions and... to keep Remus at bay.

Besides, Remus wasn't the only side that did that. That Anxiety fella always seemed to get Thomas down, but Morality never seemed to have a problem with that, did he? That was just Anxiety doing his job. Just like Remus was doing - how come he was bad?

Roman was good though, that much he was sure on. Thomas loved his contributions, Thomas was always happier when Roman took charge, when Roman was able to show Thomas the beauty of the world, of his world. And, sure, maybe sometimes Remus would come and ruin it, and maybe sometimes that frustrated Roman, maybe sometimes he wished that he didn't have a brother, that he was... that he was the only Creativity. Roman was all Thomas really needed, right? He never listened to Remus' suggestions, so why was Remus even here? Just to spoil Roman's fun?

Maybe that was when Roman began to see Remus as the villain. He just wanted Remus gone, so that he had the control over Thomas' imagination, but... the only way that could happen was if Remus was bad. If Thomas didn't want Remus around, then... well, Remus wouldn't be around any longer.

That had happened to Anxiety, hadn't it? When Thomas showed more signs of bravery (Roman's doing, he was sure) and didn't want to constantly fear the world around him. So... he took Anxiety away. That snake fella... what was his name? Whatever. He took Anxiety away, why couldn't he take Remus away as well?

Roman opened his eyes as he felt himself falling, just in time for him to reach out his hands and stop himself from hitting the ground head-on. He wasn't in his bed anymore. This was- This was the Imagination. He must have been thinking too much and brought himself here.

That was fine. He began to wander around the fields of the Imagination, heading away from the Palace and down into the forest, away from everyone else. He imagined - ha, imagined - that he looked like a mess right now, and, for once, he didn't particularly care. Besides, he felt like a mess, so maybe appearing like a mess wouldn't be that bad.

He walked through the forest, breathing in the fresh air. He wasn't crying anymore, at least, but...

Remus was taken away, eventually. And then it was up to Roman to keep Thomas' creativity flowing. Exactly how he wanted it, right?

Thomas loved Roman. And so did the others. Morality was always so proud of him, and Logic was... well, Logic was Logic, but he never hated Roman, not like... not like they all hated Remus.

He'd seen it happen. He'd seen Morality shut Remus down, constantly complain at him for even the smallest of suggestions, just because those suggestions weren't always 'pure' or 'innocent'. And neither were Roman's! But Morality never complained to Roman. He always encouraged Roman, so maybe... maybe the problem wasn't with Remus' ideas, but more with Remus himself.

Because Remus was the villain, and you weren't supposed to like villains. So then Roman had to become the hero. He had to be perfect, not like Remus at all, or else everyone else would hate him.

He hadn't seem Remus in a while, but Remus still plagued the back of Roman's mind. He could hardly remember that last time the two laughed together - maybe that hadn't been real, maybe Roman had been so desperate to have a good brother that he'd made it up. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that he made something up in order to make himself feel better.

No - Remus remained an image in the back of Roman's mind, the image of everything that Roman didn't want to be, that Roman couldn't be if he wanted to be listened to.

Roman saw a flash of green out the corner of his eye. And then a cackle, heading towards him. He groaned - of course, of fucking course.

"Hey, Roman," Remus said, grinning.

Roman really wasn't feeling up for this.

Remus frowned. "What's wrong? Your hair's all over the place."

"I know, asshole," Roman snapped, "you don't have to bring it up." He pushed past Remus and continuing his walk. After a moment, Remus ran up to his side and walked as well. Roman groaned. "Would you stop?"

Remus blinked. "Stop what?"

"Just... stop."

Remus hummed. "I think I'll continue, actually. Stopping everything sounds like a lot of work."

"Well, can you stop being a nuisance?" Roman said. "And just leave me alone, maybe."

Remus didn't leave. Groaning, Roman clicked his fingers, leaving the Imagination. He couldn't be dealing with this right now.

Roman was alone, after Remus had been taken away from him. Maybe he regretted his wish. Now he had nobody to play with, no one to create with, it was... it was all up to him.

That's what he wanted, of course. He wanted to have full control, for Thomas to listen to him and only him. And Thomas did, for years. Well, he listened to Morality and Logic as well, of course, but... he didn't have to listen to Remus anymore. He only took Roman's suggestions, and that was perfect.

Only... it meant that he had to be perfect as well, all the goddamn time. And sometimes something would slip out, sometimes Remus could take control for a second, and Roman would be blamed for that. Without Remus around, he had nobody to fall back on. It was all up to him. And if he continued to slip up, Thomas would hate him as well. The snake man might take him away, just like he took away Remus.

It was getting harder and harder, though. Harder to keep that innocence, that purity. That wasn't who Roman was. Morality wanted him to be like that, and Thomas expected him to be like that, but he wasn't. So he put up an act. He pretended to be all good and pure and innocent. He pretended to be the hero. Pretended to take down the villains, all of Thomas' demons. The villains being Remus, and Anxiety, and the snake man who took each of them away, who'd take Roman away as well if he acted more like... more like himself.

God. Maybe Janus was right. Roman was just like Remus, wasn't he? Roman was horrible, and dirty, and wasn't trying to protect Thomas at all - he was trying to protect himself.

It made sense. He'd constantly bullied Virgil - something that, at the time, he thought was right, because Virgil was the villain, but then he wasn't the villain anymore, and all of a sudden Roman had been in the wrong. He'd made a mistake - he couldn't make mistakes, that wasn't him, if he made mistakes he was just as bad as his brother.

"Hey, hey, calm down," a voice said besides him. Roman glanced around. This- This wasn't his room. It was too dark. And cold. And-

An arm wrapped around his shoulder. He glanced at the person besides him - Virgil. Oh. And Roman was crying again, of course he was. Perfect. Just perfect.

"What happened, Princey?" Virgil asked, seemingly alarmed.

Roman didn't want to say, but he couldn't escape this any longer, could he? "Am... Am I like Remus?"

Virgil frowned. "What?"

"I am," Roman decided for himself. "I'm exactly like Remus. Otherwise Thomas wouldn't hate me right now."

Virgil shook his head in shock. "Uh, Roman. You're nothing like Remus. You know that, right?"

"I... don't know that, actually." Roman tore himself away from Virgil's grasp. "I hurt you, just like how Remus had hurt Thomas, so... I'm basically the same as him. Just like Janus said."

Virgil blinked. "...Janus?" he repeated, and then, under his breath, "Who the fuck is Janus?"

"You hate me, Virgil, right?" Roman said.

"I, uh- no?"

"You do," Roman said, standing up and moving away from Virgil's bed. "Why wouldn't you, after all the shit I put you through?"

Virgil stood up as well, stepping towards Roman. "Uh, Roman, buddy, I don't think you're being fair to yourself here. I don't hate you. I mean, yeah, it kinda sucked when you were, y'know, treating me like a villain and stuff, but-"

"You don't have to lie to me, Virgil!" Roman shouted, to which Virgil visibly flinched. Oh. Oh no. He was doing it again, wasn't he?

Feeling the tears beginning to fall out again, Roman clicked his fingers once more, this time landing in his room. It was empty, thank God. He walked up to his door, locked it, and sank down to the floor, holding his knees. Maybe if he just stayed here, everything would be okay. Thomas could continue without him - heck, maybe Remus could take over.

Because... Remus was better than Roman, wasn't he? Remus only acting up because he wanted to be listened to. Roman acted up because he wanted control, and he hurt other people intentionally, innocent people who only wanted the best for Thomas.

Thomas was better without him. Roman was no hero.

Janus was right. Roman had to be the evil twin. Which meant it was his time to step down. Let the real heroes take charge.

[chalkboardgirl15]

-Read the signs-

Scott (Daisy)   x Female reader

Spooky Kids era

Synopsis: In the middle of summer, you and your friends are trapped in your hometown and spend time hanging out or terrorizing your neighborhood. One of so many days of mischief ends differently than the others when you and Scott discover that you both have felt the same attraction to each other for all this time.

Tags: @antichrist-super-stoned

Also i thought you would like to read this @gxth-bxby @v-crow666

______________________________________________________________

It's almost 5pm. You get to your friend Brian's house and park your car in the driveway, you can see his mother, Barbara, hanging out the washing. You get down of your car and walk towards her.

-Hi, Mrs. Warner

-Oh, hello (y / n). How are you, darling?- She says with a tender voice

-I'm fine thanks. Is Brian home?

-Oh yes. He is in his room with Scott, you can go in

-Thanks- you answer with a smile and head inside.

As you were passing the living room you could see Mr. Warner sitting on his couch, watching TV. You try to sneak to the stairs and run up to Brian's room, you know Mr. Warner's dirty jokes very well and you don't want to give him a chance to start one. So you walk really slowly, passing behind his old couch

-(y/n)!- He screams with a joyful voice (but almost fake, for some reason). 

-Fuck, how does he do that?- you say under your breath -Um, Hi, Mr. Warner. I came to see Brian

-Why don't you come and sit here with me? Those boys surely are just fooling around up there

-Well I better go stop them- You say with a nervous tone and rush up the stairs

You walk towards Brian's room, and since you know Scott is also there, you fix your hair on one of the mirrors hanging on the wall.

You stand at the door of the room, Scott is sitting on a chair and in front of him he has his 4-track recorder that his parents gave him on his birthday, Brian is sitting on his bed and holds a small microphone between his hands; they are both laughing as Brian sings a kind of rap that talks about tuna sandwiches and a girl with hairy legs.

-What the fuck are you guys doing? - You say with a laugh.

Scott looks at you and controlling his laughter he puts his finger across his lips -Shh- Brian continues with the song but he can’t contain himself and bursts out laughing. 

Scott stops recording.

-I’m sorry, man. I couldn’t handle it - Brian says, trying to recover his breath

-Don’t worry, it’s a good start. But we have to record the full version someday

You walk into the room and drop onto the bed, right next to Brian

-Your father was right about you two just fooling around- you say with a sigh

-Fooling around?! We were just recording our first complete song!-  Scott is offended by your words

-No, she’s right.- Brian slides down onto the bed and sighs as he puts his hands over his face -This summer sucks!- he growls

-Sucks more than the weekend at my grandma’s- you giggle

-Oh, don’t remind me about that, a whole weekend looking only at Scott's face. At least when you are here we can pretend we are not looking at your tits

-Well I’m sorry for not having tits to entertain you with- Scott responds

-Yeah, you should be 

-Scott with tits. I would pay to see that- you and Brian snort a laugh and Scott rolls his eyes at you, then he proceeds to unplug his recorder. 

You stare at him as he gets down on one knee and tucks the wires into his bag, admiring his brown hair and round glasses. You've had a crush on him for quite some time now, and it seems to be getting stronger, but for some reason it's very difficult for you to approach him in any way other than joking. Not so with Brian, with whom you have spent some very intimate evenings, you find him attractive and the sex is incredible, but Scott has something different, he is not like the others and you love that.

Suddenly Mrs. Warner steps at the door of the room, holding her purse in her hands.

-Brian, darling, your father and I are going to run some errands. There's cereal in the pantry, be good kids

-Mom, I'm twenty- says Brian with an annoyed face

-Be a good twenty-year-old, then. I'll see y'all later- she kisses her hand waves it.

Brian stands off of the bed quickly.

-Man, I can't believe my parents leave the house more than us, it's fucking summer, we should be doing more than just staring at the wall

-We can watch tv, I think they were going to broadcast "the exorcist"- you propose

- "The exorcist" and a bowl of cereal seem like a good plan- says Scott excitedly

-But we can watch "the exorcist" and eat junk every other day. I want to do something different or I'm going to go crazy- Brian puts his hands to his head

-Then tell us your summer plan, Warner

-And I hope it's better than eating cereal or I'm going to be very pissed- Scott warns

-Ehrm, I don’t know. I can't think when I'm locked up here.

-Let's go outside then, I have the car- you show him your keys

-There we would have started, woman. Were you waiting for me to pull out my hair to tell me you have the car?

-You guys always tell me that my car is trash!

- (y / n), I am so desperate that right now your old car seems to me like the most wonderful vehicle in the world!

-Could it have nothing to do with the fact that you are not allowed to drive because you don't have a license and that my parents no longer lend me the car after I spent the night in jail for drunk driving?

-No, Scott. It has nothing to do with it. Now please shut up.- You and Scott look at eachother and laugh. He has such a beautiful smile and is not afraid to show it, he does not try to act tough like others,

-Okay, let's go then- you say as you get up from the bed

-Yes, finally some fresh air- Brian says raising his arms and going out the door

-Come on, Scott- you invite him with a smile

-I’m after you, sweetheart- you feel his words as heavy as his voice, chills run through your body and you turn your face trying not to blush

-Hurry up!- Brian shouts from outside the house

You three get in the car. Brian takes the whole  back seat for himself as usual, leaving Scott with the only option of going in the passenger seat. You always said you prefer it that way because, unlike Brian, Scott is quiet and doesn't distract you while driving, but the truth is that you like having him a few inches from you in that bench seat.

You  drove around the neighborhood for about half an hour, while Brian looked out the back window like a little boy pointing at things and people, and Scott hummed and tapped on his  thighs to the tune of the songs on the radio like "love me two times" by The doors. 

You try not to be very obvious while you turn to see him and when he realizes he just smiles at you and keeps singing. Hell, that smile could make you crash in a second.

But that's not what makes you slam on the brakes.

-Stop! - Brian shouts from the back seat -I know  what we gonna do- he says with a huge smile on his face as he points to the street name sign.

_______________________________________________________

-”Baked st”? - You say with a confused look. 

The three of you are standing in front of the sign Brian pointed out.

-Yeah! It's amazing, it would look great in my room!- says Brian

-Woah, are you suggesting we steal it? - Scott doesn't seem convinced by the idea.

-Yes! It's exactly what I'm suggesting

-That doesn't sound very legal, man.

-Yeah, Brian, there's still a lot of light, someone could see us- you point out

-Thank you, (y / n) - Scott is relieved that you're on his side

-You'll be the lookout, Scott- you say as you pat him on the shoulder 

-What?!

You and Brian laugh and bump fists.

------

-We're gonna get caught. We're gonna get caught and we will be arrested. I will spend another night in jail. We should have stayed to eat cereal and watch tv- Scott mutters in a nervous voice from inside your car. He is sitting behind the wheel with the engine running, prepared to be the escape driver.

-Do you want to shut up? No one will catch us if you do your job as a lookout

-I always end up in trouble when I'm with you, Warner!

-Calm down, will you? Smoke a cigarette or something

-No! Not smoking in my car - you shout in a demanding voice -Calm down, Scott, nothing will happen

Brian kneels and you climb on his shoulders, so when he stands up you are at the exact height of the sign and you can remove it with the help of a screwdriver that you had in the trunk of your car.

-Brian, stay still, if you drop me I'll kill you

-Sorry, but the last time I carried you on my shoulders was that night when you forgot your keys and ended up with your dog biting my balls

-Haha! That's his way of saying he loves you!

-Whatever it was, since that day I can't stand being near a dog

-Don't be a crybaby ... oh, is that a doberman?

-Oh shit, where?! - Brian staggers with fear

You laugh out loud.

-That´s not funny!

-It was for me!- you're almost tearing with laughter

Scott rolls his eyes and sighs -Can you hurry? If you guys don't get in the car on time I won't mind leaving you behind

-But it's my car!

-Well ... maybe I'll wait for you- he gives you a small smile

- * cough * Get a room

-Shut up, Brian, or I'll drop this on your huge head

-Guys, I think someone’s coming ...- says Scott worried

-Calm down, I'm almost done, there's one last screw left- you say without taking much importance

-Oh oh, cop car. Guys, cop car!- Scott shouts through the window

-What?! - Brian screams

-GET-IN-THE-CAR!

-Done!- You say with a smile of triumph and  almost fall when Brian takes you off of his shoulders. 

You both rush to get into the car and Scott speeds in the opposite direction to the cops

Brian, as always in the back seat, looks through the window to make sure you were not seen and are not being followed, then he collapses into the seat and bursts out laughing.

You and Scott look into each other's eyes and laugh a little, then join Brian in his loud laugh.

-That was incredible, I think I peed in my pants- says Brian trying to catch his breath

-You almost threw me, man! - You shout from the passenger seat

- I'm sorry, I panicked!

-Scott, are you okay? Your hands are shaking- you ask

-I'm fine. I'm fine, don't worry- Scott can't erase from his face the big smile that has appeared as a result of the feeling of being almost caught.

You stare at him and you feel your heart pumping like crazy and you're not quite sure it's still due to the thrill of your successful robbery.

_______________________________________________________

The sun has already set, it is still a warm summer night. You drive through the neighborhood with the windows down letting in the cool wind, and with stupid smiles of satisfaction on your faces, without saying a word.

You go back to Brian's house and see his parents' car at the entrance.

"Shit, they're back," says Brian, rushing to open the car door and close it behind him, he leans against the driver's window to look at you both. 

-Come tomorrow and you will see this beauty hanging on the wall of my room. - He says holding the sign and then he enters his house, leaving you alone in the car with Scott.

There is an awkward silence for a few seconds after Brian is gone.

-Well, I think I should go home now- Scott puts his hand on the door handle, turns to you and looks at you over his glasses -It was a great afternoon, it wouldn't have been if you hadn't appeared- He gives you a last half smile -Well, good night (y/n), hope to see you tomorrow- he opens the door

-No, wait ... let me take you home

-Do you want to take me home?

-Of course, I'll let you drive - you say tapping the steering wheel

-You've convinced me!

------

You really enjoy the drive to Scott's house, he just keeps making you laugh by telling you the story of the night he was arrested, making silly voices as he impersonates the cops who pulled him over.

And he takes advantage of the moment to do some other imitations of people you know, and cartoon characters. You just can't stop laughing.

When you are close to getting to Scott's house, he stops the car near an alley.

-I will stop here so my parents don't see us, if they find out that I've been driving they will kill me

-Oh yeah, no problem. That way you could also stay for a while to chat- you are really enjoying his company and you don't want to stop being by his side

-I guess I can, it's not my bedtime yet- You both laugh

-You're so funny

-"Oh, thank you, I appreciate it" -he says faking his voice like a talk show host, and you laugh again.

-Really, why have we never had these talks?

-What do you mean?

-Yes, you and I, we have never hang out together, why is that?

-Are you serious? I think the reason is pretty obvious

-It’s not so obvious for me. Why don’t you tell me?

-Well, it's because whenever we go out, I'm the first to be back home, whether you drop me or I leave so that you can, I don't know, take care of any "matter" you have

-What? What are you talking about? - You look at Scott with a confused expression

-Come on, you know what I'm talking about ... don't make me say it- he rolls his eyes and you look at him without being completely sure what he means

-You mean...?

-Um, yeah- he says raising his eyebrows. You drop your jaw

-He told you about that?!

-Of course he told me- he sighs with annoyance- you already know him

-When-when did he tell you?

-The weekend you were at your grandma's house ... I would like to say that he brought it up for conversation because he was bored and wanted us to talk about something but I know he likes to brag about those things

-I'm going to kill him- you say clenching your teeth

-No... I mean, you don’t have to, there’s no reason for you two to hide those things from me, if you feel something for each other, I..- 

-What? I don’t feel anything for Brian! It was just sex…

-”Just sex”? what does that even mean?- he chuckles and you cover your face with your hands

-I mean… Well, he’s attractive but he can also be a total asshole. And we had sex a couple of times but it’s not like… I don’t like him and I totally don’t “love” him

-It´s ok, I was just saying that if you were trying to have some kind of relationship… I'm ok with that

-Well you don’t need to ‘cause there’s no “relationship” nor will be. I only had sex with him because, well there aren't many guys available, you know? And apparently I'm too bad at letting the boys that I like know that ... I like them

-Really?- he arches his eyebrows

-Yeah, believe it or not- You say with sarcasm

-Well I think any guy you send a hint that you like him and if he doesn't get it then he's an idiot and you shouldn't be wasting your time with him

You snort a laugh 

-You think that?

-Totally. Of course.

You look at him and laugh

-What? What’s so funny?

-No, nothing- you stop laughing and look down, trying to avoid his gaze

-Really? Come on, we already discussed your stumbling  with Brian, that is surely the most embarrassing thing in your life, and now you are going to hide something from me and tell me that it's "nothing"? Come on, tell Dr. Love here

-Oh my god, don't call yourself Dr. Love! - You burst out laughing as you cover your face with your hands

-Ok, I will not. But come on, you were the one who  wanted us to talk, now talk- he bumps your shoulder

You take a long breath

-Is just that… I really don’t know how to tell you this. I got into this by myself and now I don't know how to get out- you laugh nervously

-You are scaring me. I'm not gonna let you drive me home again…

-It's that, when I was talking about the guys I like, I was ... really ... talking about you ...

Scott stares at you and is silent for a few seconds.

-I’m sorry, what?

You laugh again and avoid his gaze

- (y / n) I need you to repeat that, I think I did not hear you well

You raise your head and look at him with your eyes tearing a little

-I was talking about you, Scott. You are the guy that I like

Scott leans back and readjusts himself on the seat

-Wow, I wasn't expecting that

-Yeah, well …

You both remain silent, trying to assimilate what just happened. After a few seconds Scott takes a long breath, opens his mouth but he has trouble organizing his thoughts

-(y/n)? Can I...Can I ask you something?

-Yeah, of course

-And it’s ok if you don’t want to answer, I understand

-Okay…

-You say you like me ... but if that's the case, why have you been sleeping with Brian?

You sigh heavily

-Well, Scott, it's quite simple really. You see, it's because you are you, and I, well, I am me ...

-I'm not sure I understand that

-You're an amazing boy, Scott. You are kind, you are talented, you are intelligent, you are very funny without having to make fun of others

-And is that a bad thing?

-No! It is not at all!

-So? I don't understand

-It's that you're VERY good, Scott. So good that you deserve someone just as good as you ...

- Seriously?

-Seriously. And I deserve guys like Brian, I don't mean Brian is a bad guy but hey, you said it yourself, "we know how he is"

He throws his head back, looking at the roof of the car

-I guess I'm screwed, then ...

- Why do you say that?

He turns his head towards you, still leaning on the seat

-Because (y / n), during all this time, I have only been attracted to a one-single-girl

You notice his hand moving along the seat, getting closer and closer to yours. You can already feel it with the tips of your fingers, it's like an electric shock that runs through your entire arm. You look up and he's looking you in the eye.

-And that girl is you.

You feel your face turning completely red, your heart is racing, you are short of breath.

Time seems to move so slow.

-I think I'm having a heart attack- you say under your breath

- (y / n) Are you okay? - He gets closer and sits right next to you, his knee touches yours and he puts his hand on your shoulder. You have your eyes on the ground and your hair covers your face -I shouldn't have told you all that, I'm sorry- 

He leans in front of you and brushes your hair from your face with his fingers -It's just that we were being so sincere that I thought ... I don't know what I thought, I let myself go. Please look at me-.

You feel your body vibrating, trembling. The rhythm of your heart has not calmed down. And your mind is spinning.

You can see Scott's face out of the corner of your eye. You have never been so close, and you don’t know if this will be the only time. Your only chance.

- "Fuck it" - you say in your mind and raise your head. You both look into each other's eyes for a few seconds, you lean towards him and slowly seek his lips with yours. He doesn't move or say a word, just closes his eyes and receives the pleasing touch of your mouth.

His lips are so soft and sweet. Almost unreal.

Kissing him feels like an explosion inside your head, you can almost see the flashes. 

You take him by the back of his neck to bring him closer to you, you don't want a single space between your lips. He responds by putting his hand on your thigh, gently grabbing you, like trying to convince himself that you really are there.

The kiss begins to get more intense, you gently suck on his lips a little and you can feel the tip of his tongue touching you, but you know he is too shy to dare to do it. So you go and gently insert your tongue between his lips as you grab him by his shirt. He lets out a slight moan and reaches up to grab you firmly by the hip.

The feel of his hand grasping you feels so good that you tilt your head back and bite your lip. Scott can't take his gaze off of you, his breathing is fast, with his hand still on your hip, he pulls you towards him and makes you end up sitting on his lap.

You look him in the eye, he puts both hands on your hips and you give him a devilish smile to which he responds the same.

You run your hand over his chest. He looks at you with a smile and bites his lip. You lean over him and start kissing his neck, he raises his hands to your waist and his thumbs touch the bottom of your breasts. He moans a little and you pull back. Without taking your eyes off his, you take your hands to the end of your shirt and take it off. He stares, wordlessly, at your body, one of his hands goes up your belly and stops before touching your bra. He sees you again in the eyes and licks his lips, more than a look of desire, you can see tenderness on his face.

You put your arms behind your back and untie the clasp of the bra, gently lower the straps of each of your arms and drop it. He takes a deep breath and you bend down to kiss him again, pressing your lips firmly against his.

He moves his hands forward slowly, his fingertips running up your bare back giving you chills and making you shiver, and that's where he tucks his tongue into your mouth and gently grips your breast with one of his hands.

You moan and you can feel the warmth between his legs, so you bring one of your hands to his waist, raise his shirt with your index finger, and play a little with his belt before you unbuckle it. He rushes in and helps you take his pants down to his knees. You bite your lip and run one hand over his underwear. He is hard. 

You start moving your hand up and down over his clothing. He lets out a groan, closes his eyes, and tilts his head back.You give him a sloppy kiss while still stroking him. Scott puts his hand on your lower back while moaning. You stop kissing him and pull back. 

-You want me to…?- You say as you put your hands over the buttons of your trousers

-Please…- he says under his breath

You start unbuttoning them and he pulls them down, leaving you only in your panties.

He runs the tip of his index through the line of cloth that passes just below your belly, you take his entire hand and lead him inside.

 He gasps, he feels a little scared but much more curious to feel your body, so he works his way down with his fingers and touches you gently. You groan and start to feel more and more wet as his fingers get inside of you, you can't control it. You start pulling down his underwear and he takes his hands off of you. You take his bulge with your hand and stroke it making him close his eyes again. You take off your panties and get closer to him, sitting on his lap. He puts his arms around you, down your lower back, and kisses you.

-I guess today we will only do illegal things

-Does that bothers you?- you answer with a seductive voice

-Not at all- he smirks

You bring one of your hands behind you and between your legs, take hiss length with your fingers, positioning it just below you and slowly insert it into yourself. You push your hips down to get him fully inside.

You both moan loudly with pleasure. Scott has a huge smile drawn on his face. You put your hands on his shoulders and start moving your hips up and down, you can feel how he tightens you with his arms and he starts to thrust himself against you, faster and with more force than you were doing. You squeeze his shoulders and dig your nails into them a little. His body slams against yours, you can feel him getting  out completely and back in with ease. Your legs start shaking, you can feel that you are very close, you don't want this moment to end but you are about to, so you kiss him one last time and feel his deep breathing on your lips. You arch your back and press your lips together tightly to contain your loud moan of exasperation. Scott growls and you feel a wetness running down your thigh. 

You drop your body onto Scott's. Your head rests on his shoulder and he lovingly caresses your back. He looks at you and approaches to give you a tender kiss, at the end of which he smiles.

You remain silent for a while, for the moment you do not have much to say, the contact of your bodies shows your feelings.

Scott puts his hand on your head and brushes your hair from your face.

-You know? I feel very lucky today- he says

-Yes?

-Totally. I did a lot of things today that I never imagined ... like running away from the police

You laugh a little

-No, seriously, I feel very lucky, and I don't want to abuse that fortune, but if I don't do this I think I won't be able to forgive myself

-What happens?

- (y / n) Would you go out with me someday?

You blush and hide your face on his shoulder

-Of course I will go out with you

[curanonemu]

your hands are mine to hold | kim hongjoong

kim hongjoong x reader

summary: the five times you take Hongjoong's hand in yours, and the one time he takes yours.

tags: 5+1 trope, high school au, hand-holding, slow burn, strangers to saviours to friends to lovers :'), insecure reader, hence angst, happy ending, very happy very cute, fluff

word count: 7,750

notes: y'all be careful in labs ok? lmao,,, many thanks to my gem of a lovely friend @utopianvoices who listened to me cry about this - for real, I cried LMAO because I'm weak. The title's taken from 'Move Along' by The All-American Rejects, I love that song!! I loved writing this... I hope it's enjoyable for y'all! heartheartheart

•   •   •

「 1 」

It happens almost in slow motion.

He's walking with his friends, you're behind them all wondering why people in groups walk so slowly. Then, like an actual fool, he trips over air. A part of you thinks he deserves it, having no patience for the way he's been holding up the traffic with his friends, but as you watch on, some of that vengeful emotion ebbs away.

He yelps, and his friends all freeze for a second before they break out into laughter, no doubt waiting for the impending misfortune, and it takes a moment for you to push past your irritation and decide. You're making a move whether or not you'll be appreciated for it.

And so he careens, face almost meeting the floor in a grand show of romance while his friends howl. Almost. He stills, his hand having been grabbed by a lifeline that keeps him anchored.

Your hand.

He winces immediately, and you wince in return as you hear the telltale hiss that escapes his mouth. You curse at yourself for being so thoughtless.

You've saved him from falling flat on his face, but you pulled on his fingers too hard, and you've probably torn all the muscles in his hand and sprained his wrist too. God knows what else you've done. You're about to apologise when he straightens up, turning around to look at you. He's taller than you, you note as you lift your head slightly to meet his eyes, and you watch the sweet smile spreading across his lips as he thanks you.

The words fall from his lips, and though a large part of you is concerned you've hurt his hand beyond repair, a tiny voice in your mind says, 'He's so cute.'

You squash the voice down, of course, but you're the slightest bit disoriented and panicked at the realisation of what you were thinking, enough that no words come out and you nod at him dumbly after he says his thanks. He continues staring at you, the polite, helpful smile etched on his face, and you know his friends are looking at you too. They're quiet now, unlike how they'd initially been bursting into giggles. You tear your eyes away from his face and look at his hand once to make sure you've pulled off an entire finger or something equally horrifying, before you're hightailing it out of there without a word.

Later, as you sit in class, replaying the incident in your mind, remembering the smile that he awarded you with, the way his eyes shone from the emotion, and the way his voice sounded like honey, you realise you don't know his name.

Which is alright.

It's for the best. You don't need to know the name of every person you find cute. Granted, he's possibly the cutest one you've seen. That might also be because you saw him trip over air.

But the school is big, and you don't even know what year he's in; you didn't get a look at his tie. It's not as if you'll ever see him again.

⤐

「 2 」

Wrong, says the scheming universe, intent on proving otherwise.

You see him way too soon after that.

You're at the local store, having been sent to carry out some errands and buy groceries, and your eyes widen as you see a familiar face behind the counter. You don't want to face him, too aware of how you'd fled the scene and never even asked him if he was alright. You tap your foot anxiously as you hope to see the person behind the counter change soon, and a few minutes pass that way; you hiding and watching him, waiting for him to get up and go or magically vanish so you don't have to see him. But those hopes are dashed the moment he looks over the shelves separating you two and his eyes meet yours.

He brightens up visibly, and it makes you wonder how a person can be so lively and bright-eyed. There's no way he's brightening up because you're there, so it must be that he acts this way with everyone. That's also the reason why he gave you that smile, no?

You're taken back to the day he'd almost fallen, and how his friends had made teasing remarks to him once they thought you were far away. He'd laughed in response, saying something that you couldn't quite hear, but you imagine that's exactly what he intended, having caught on to a few of his words, telling his friends to lower their volume.

Some people are so bright and cheerful, and it genuinely surprises you how they can hold that much positivity in themselves.

Perhaps he's just one of those people, the main characters in a movie, the ones that change the world with their existence while the supporting characters merely look on from the sidelines and behold their glory.

You're a supporting character who had the fortune of being able to save this boy's face from becoming a pancake. That's quite a noble role you've been assigned. But nowhere in the script did it say that you'd have to make conversation with him.

So you stiffly reach the counter, putting your basket up for him to add up the purchase. You can feel his eyes on you as he moves, pressing some buttons that you don't know about while he hums under his breath. But you resolutely keep your eyes on the counter, on each of the items as he puts them one by one in a bag.

You reach out to take it, but-

But you end up taking his hand instead.

Jolting, you rip your hand back away from his, curled over the top of the bag he was trying to give you. You stare at his hand nervously, the emotions all too clear in your eyes as you try to make sense of what has just happened. Gulping, you reach for the bag again, focused on just holding it where his hand doesn't reach, but you get the shock of your life when he moves it forward, fingers colliding with yours momentarily before the bag is securely in your hands, and a smile is fixed on his face.

You realise he has a name-tag, but you're too flustered to look at him for more than a second, and you refuse to look at the tag and put a name to his face.

As you duck your head down and speed-walk out of the store, you can hear the smile in his words, "Thank you for shopping here!"

You should thank him for leaving you unable to think, you roll your eyes as you scold yourself mentally.

⤐

「 3 」

It becomes a routine after that.

You see him everywhere. You see him in school, standing casually with his friends in the stairwell when you need to change floors - in the library when you're looking for a book - in the cafeteria when you need food.

Sometimes, it's just a fleeting look. You find him across the sea of students and you quickly look down, not wanting him to spot you. Sometimes, you look at him long enough that he can feel your gaze, and then you're hastily looking away, hoping against hope that he hasn't caught you. Sometimes, you find him looking at you when you see him, and your eyes widen and you turn your head away. You always wonder what he's thinking, those times.

You've realised one thing about him. He gives his full attention to whatever has it at any moment. When he's paying attention to his friends, it's as if they're angels from heaven, the way he makes them all seem so important to you with just a single look, just one smile at the jokes they're cracking.

You wonder what he thinks when he gives you attention.

He's even gone as far as to smile at you, and it leaves you feeling so nervous yet so alive at the same time. It's an exhilarating feeling.

It scares you, knowing that you've already given your mind to someone whose name you don't know, someone who you've never talked to. How long will you go before you crumble and give him your heart too? You shove that thought out of your mind, but you're not sure of your resolve.

After all, you see him too much to ever have him out of your mind.

Your next embarrassing scene occurs when you're going up the stairs. You're in a hurry, having to climb up three floors just to get to the lab and you're not happy knowing that you're already late. Walking as fast as you can, you're halfway to your destination, on the second flight of stairs when you reach out with your hand to grip the banister.

And it's incredibly soft.

Your hand closes around it, the feeling registering in your brain but not quite allowing you to react, and your eyes slowly travel towards your hand. The staircase is U-shaped, and instead of gripping the banister for your flight, you've gripped the one for the next one.

Scratch that. Your hand isn't even on the banister.

Someone else is holding onto it, in the process of walking downstairs and you've boldly placed your hand on theirs.

You look up at the person to whom the hand is attached, and because the world hates you, or maybe it loves embarrassing you, it's him.

Him, with his eyes wide, mouth slightly open while his tongue pokes out as he stares at your hand, then at your face, then back down. Your heart having stopped and your feet frozen mid-step, you regard him without a word. You tear your eyes away the same moment you retract your hand, and then you're walking quickly, turning, then climbing past him as you all but stomp up the stairs, wishing they'd open up and swallow you.

As your eyes flit down one last time, you see him still on that spot, and your eyebrows furrow in frustration as you bite your lip, beyond irritated at yourself for allowing yourself to be so affected by him.

It's not even as if you can pass it off as a random incident now. You'd recognised him, and he'd recognised you, because the flicker of recognition in your eyes was mirrored in his. You know him and he knows you and you can't claim to be strangers.

All that remains to be known now is his name, and you really don't want to know that. Not when you know how soft his hand is, because knowing both the things is only going to put a name to the face that keeps haunting you and refuses to leave you alone. It's only going to make your stupid thoughts that much realer.

⤐

「 4 」

You're milling about in the lab with your classmates, aimlessly going from one shelf to another as you look for chemicals.

Halfway through the two hours long class, a bunch of students enter the lab, and you recognise them as your upperclassmen.

A stray thought enters your mind and you push it away angrily. Denial has always been a strong suit of yours, and your brain seems to think that if you pretend you hadn't noticed the stripes of his tie while you both had your cute staring contest, he won't be an upperclassman.

Anyway, you can't see him among the ones that have entered, so you can count on him to be in a different class.

Your teacher notices that you're mucking about without any intention of working, and you duck your head to avoid the glare that's sent your way. Busying yourself with adding things to test tubes, you pray that you're not taking your school towards a spectacular explosion.

Someone moves behind you, brushing past with an apology and you simply give a nod, engrossed for once in what you're doing.

"Can I have this?" the words eventually reach you, and you turn briefly to see an unfamiliar person pointing to a bottle next to your workspace that you no longer need.

"Ah, yeah, just put it back on that shelf after you're done." You gesture towards where you picked it up from. You should've put it back already, your teacher always says you should do so once you're done using something. But you also prefer working at your own pace.

"Where?" the person asks, and you turn around to point at the shelf properly, but the words die down. You remember the face from the first time you saw him. You're talking to one of his friends, merely an hour after that monumentally embarrassing incident and it makes your brain go slightly haywire. He can't be here, can he? You didn't see him in the crowd, there's no way he's here-

"Seonghwa!" a voice calls out, and you exhale imperceptibly, internally telling yourself to calm down.

You should've expected it.

He's an upperclassman, you're surrounded by those; of course you'd see him. Of course.

Hell, you had expected it. You'd secretly been hoping for it.

But it still makes your heart beat faster, both in nervous excitement and anxiety, and you have to will yourself to not make a fool out of yourself.

'Seonghwa' turns around to see his friend as said friend walks up to both of you, leisurely, looking for all the world totally unaffected, and you clench your fists, almost breaking a pipe in the process.

'It's okay, it's alright.' You touched his hand, but he touched yours too. If you're flustered, he should be equally so. And he did look affected, didn't he? All wide-eyed and surprised. That's enough for you to breathe a bit better.

He stops next to you, and gives you another one of his darned smiles. "Can we borrow this?" He points to the same bottle as if his friend hadn't just asked you for it, and you nod like the idiot you are.

He picks it up, ever so helpfully giving a few drops from the dropper to his friend before filling up his own test tube. Then he holds it back out to you. His friend opens his mouth, and you fail to notice the exchange between them which makes him shut his mouth, and then your tormentor is looking at you, expecting you to take the bottle off his hands.

Which you do, after a suspicious stare directed at his limbs.

And because you're a fool, which the universe has established time and time again, you end up grabbing the bottle and his hand.

Or maybe it's just your imagination from how paranoid you are.

Your eyes stray to his face, and it betrays absolutely no emotion, so you quietly go back to your work, and he turns away too, walking away with his friend. Perhaps you didn't do what you think you did.

Except the skin of your hand feels warm, and your face, warmer.

⤐

「 5 」

It's towards the end of the year that your paths cross again.

You're in the arts corridor, having just finished with drawing class, and you're lagging behind the rest of your classmates. As always, you got too frustrated with how your work was turning out, and spent most of the class correcting your mistakes rather than making any real progress. As a result, you're the last one to leave, having rushed through the sketch to at least feel a little productive.

Your eyes land on the music room. The door is shut, but some of the sound spills out. You can hear an instrument, though you can't tell what it is, but the tranquil, soft tune of it produces a similar emotion in you.

You halt, mulling over your options. Either rush to your classroom right now and apologise to the teacher, or stay here and be undeniably late for your next class, but enjoy the melody. The latter wins out, and despite your mind screaming at you to be a good student and not be late, your heart stands its ground and you lean against the wall, next to the door.

Now that you're closer, you can hear singing, and you shut your eyes, letting yourself be pulled under. Lost in the music, you don't realise that your hand has drifted over to the doorknob. You're just holding onto it, fingers curling, when a crash jolts you and you push the door open.

You stumble, having leaned too much of your weight on the hand that has pushed open the door, and you debate whether to own up like a self-respecting individual and apologise for the intrusion, or to just run away like a coward without showing your face to the occupants of the room. Which would be hard without shutting the door, because it's literally in the middle of your way back to class.

Your freedom of choice is taken away from you as someone walks over to the door and peeks out.

It's your hand-boy.

Well, he's not yours. But you might as well call him that. If he can be your tormentor, he can also be your hand-boy. The stupid train of thought is cut off when he raises his eyebrow questioningly, and the faint amusement shining in his eyes isn't lost on you.

But it's alright. You're smart.

"I heard a sound." You say, internally clapping yourself on the back as you congratulate yourself. "Did something break?"

He has talked to you thrice now, once when he thanked you for saving him, once in the store where he works, and then in the lab. But this is the first time you're speaking to him, and your voice trembles the slightest bit, throat tight. It's foolish to think this way, but you don't want him to think you're stupid, or you have a bad voice, or any of the million thoughts creeping into your head and kicking up a storm of insecurity.

"Oh, that," he rolls his eyes, eyelashes fluttering as the amusement takes over his whole face, and you want a recording of that moment, because he looks so beautiful and you replay it forever. There's equal parts mirth and exasperation dancing in those pretty, bottomless eyes of his and it makes you feel so, so warm.

"That was just my friend messing around."

"Hey, what're you saying, hy-" Song Mingi pokes his head out of the room, coming up behind your hand-boy (you curse your brain for coming up with that name for him). The words die down when he sees you, and then his face is brightening up too. "Oh, hey, y/n, didn't know you came around here!"

You were partnered up with him for a project once, and although that's the only time you had a prolonged interaction with him, you assume you're still on good terms. So you nod, and gesture to the art room behind you, not sure you'll be able to speak.

With the person called Seonghwa too, you'd felt the same way. It makes you feel too exposed to the world when you're with the hand-boy while a third person is observing you both.

"Ah, so you both know each other." Said boy cuts in. "Mingi here decided that it would be fun to play with the cymbals. Sorry if it worried you." He says, smiling amiably, but you can't help but notice the slightest playfulness that lingers, which makes the red rise in your ears, the hue hopefully sparing your face. He sounds like he knows something, and you can only hope that he doesn't know how hard he's making your heart beat.

You shake your head, both to dispel the thoughts and to answer his question. Then, eager to leave, you bring up being late to class. Mingi's eyes widen in alarm, and he rushes out an apology. It's cute how flustered he can get on someone else's behalf, and you resist the ever-present urge to ruffle his hair. He holds out his hand in a fist, expecting yours back to bump against his. Which he does get.

Everything is fine, you've evaded any embarrassing situation with your hand-boy. Except, because you're an idiot, your eyes stray to him one last time.

And the expectant look on his face says volumes. Or maybe it says nothing at all, which is what confuses you.

Like a fool, you reach forward on auto-pilot, grabbing his hand, shaking it once, twice, before you let go as if you've been scalded. Talking more to the ground than either of them, you mumble, "Take care." Sketchbook tucked safely in your arm, you all but run.

⤐

「 0 」

You're a real fool. An actual idiot. A total dimwit. But as much as you try assigning loving names to yourself, all you can come up with is 'whipped for the mysterious, nameless hand-boy.' And isn't that the funniest? You have a raging crush on someone whose name you've never even heard.

The stairs fill you with dread, the arts corridor fills you with dread, but it's not the negative sort. You always have stupid little butterflies in your stomach, making it churn while your heart thumps painfully loudly. Especially the hall where you'd first met him, saved his pretty face from being a pretty, flat face. You've made excuses to your family as to why it takes you so long to shop for groceries, because you really can't tell them you've been waiting for your crush's shift at the counter to end so you can avoid seeing him.

Are you a coward? Yes. Do you feel any shame admitting that? No. You're quite brave on that front.

But if there's one thing you really want to know, it's his name. When you wrack your brain, thinking too much of him despite pretending even to yourself that that's not what you're doing, you can almost recall the characters on his name-tag that you'd tried not to look at, and mostly succeeded.

Yes, you did think that you couldn't know his name when you knew how soft his hands were, because you didn't want to fall for him. But you're far past that stage. You know how soft his hands are, you know how prettily his eyes shine as if graced by stars, how his eyelashes flutter like the wind kissed them all. Not knowing his name now is injustice towards your poor heart.

You know a person who can tell you his name, but you also know that he can figure out why you want to know and completely ruin your life. (No, he can't; you're just dramatic.) Song Mingi teases people, even if he wouldn't have a smidge of suspicion regarding your intentions while asking him his senior's name, he's bound to crack jokes, and if any of his jokes makes your face turn scarlet and words come out stuttering, then you'll never live it down.

Hence, Mingi is out of the equation, and you're back to having no idea how to find out your mysterious hand-boy's name.

Seonghwa... The upperclassman called Seonghwa seems popular with your classmates, because you've heard his name once or twice in the conversations you happen to be close enough to hear. If you were to ask your classmates, would they tell you? How would you ask, anyway? 'Hey, can you tell me the name of that person's friend? The friend who's really cute and has a lovely laugh and a beautiful smile, with words that sound like flowers blooming in spring and eyes that just make my heart scream in frustration? And oh, those hands that I want to hold all the time. Right, I'm just slightly curious about him.' That idea sounds stupid even to you, and judging by the last few months, you've had quite a few stupid ideas.

You can only rely on yourself to find out his name, it seems. And you'll do your best to be your own wingman.

It's almost funny how easily it all falls into place.

The plan seems foolproof. The easiest way to find out would be to go to the store and ask the person who works the shift after him. So you do that. You offer to go shopping quite enthusiastically, and your parents give you a doubtful look once, before they're convinced you're just trying to be helpful and make up for your earlier behaviour. Which is exactly what you're doing; making up for the mistake of never reading his name off the tag he'd helpfully pinned to his uniform.

You're at the store, waiting outside for his shift to end, and it leaves an unexplainable feeling in you when you think of how it'd look under different circumstances; you waiting for his shift to end, then leaving together with him- okay, you need to stop thinking that.

Once you see him leave, you wait long enough for him to walk away, before slipping inside. It doesn't take long for you to buy everything. When the cashier is totalling up your purchase, you open your mouth once, twice. But the words don't come. You can't help but feel that if you asked, it'd shatter whatever you have right now. It's also too easy if you find out this way.

So you walk out glumly with your belongings, looking at the ground and wondering for the millionth time why you're so enamoured by a person who most probably doesn't even think about you.

A shriek leaves you when something grabs at your wrist, and for a moment you have to convince yourself that it's not a bug, not a snake or whatever scary thing you can think of. It's a hand belonging to another person, a very cute hand, and that makes you feel better for the duration of ten seconds before another sound leaves you, a strangled gasp.

Your hand-boy smiles at you like the cat that got the canary.

Which is probably a figment of your overactive imagination because you saw him finish his shift and leave. He can't be here ten minutes after you saw him leave.

"Hello," he coos, voice smooth and soothing, but the expression on his face is anything but, sending your thoughts scattering and nerves spiralling into chaos.

Your other hand is clutching onto the shopping bag, almost tearing into it with how tightly your fingers are digging into the material, and you focus on loosening your fist till your fingers are no longer white. Anything to keep your attention off of the boy next to you, his presence too large, invading too much of your mind and filling your brain with nothing but thoughts of him.

You didn't expect your attraction to him to be this bad, but being next to him is stopping you from thinking anything.

"H-hello," you finally respond shakily, voice barely above a whisper and you pray that he hasn't heard the stutter at the beginning. "Mingi's friend?" you add on, trying not to make it obvious that you know him by any other description.

"That's me," he says cheerfully, "You're y/n, aren't you?"

Your name off his lips is almost too much for you, ears turning red again and you pray that your hair is covering them. You can feel the telltale prickling at your face as blood rushes to it, and you can also feel your hand beading with sweat. You pray that he doesn't notice any of it.

But it's wishful thinking when he's so close to you that he could count your eyelashes, or you could count his. What you don't realise is that he's surreptitiously doing the former, while you're missing out on the latter because you just can't seem to look at him.

The traffic continues moving on the road, and you're just standing in front of the store, you holding onto your bag, and him holding onto your hand. It must look all shades of weird, but the world goes on with its business.

"Y/n?" Your name rolls off his lips again, and you realise you never answered him. You nod again, having completely lost the ability to speak. All you can think of is how smart you were to not ask his co-worker what his name is, because if he witnessed the interaction, there's no knowing how hand-boy would react.

"It's nice seeing you here after so long." He speaks again, and you turn to look at him, surprised and suddenly shy. He seems genuinely happy to see you, and the normal part of your brain appreciates that. The other part is busy crying over how amazing he is, but you ignore that.

"I come here often." You blurt out. It's not like you're lying. You've just avoided running into him.

"I know!" He responds, still sounding cheerful and you blink. "I see you when I leave, you just always look too much in a hurry for me to approach you. I decided I'll wait for you today."

Good lord.

"I- yeah. I am. In a hurry. Now." The words come out jumbled, and you hate yourself a bit when his hold on your wrist loosens and his hand slips away.

"That's alright, I should get going too." He continues with the same light-hearted tone he's kept throughout the conversation, and you're all too aware of how this is the longest you've ever talked. "I'll see you around in school, alright? Just ask around for Kim Hongjoong if you can't find me." He smiles, and he leaves just as quickly as he'd made your soul leave your body by grabbing your hand.

Kim Hongjoong.

So that's who he is.

And he said that he'd see you around in school.

You watch him leave, then slowly start walking in the direction of your home. It's only when you're in the safety and privacy of your room that you flop down on your bed and release a scream into your pillow.

You're even more whipped now.

Y/n, who? Whipped For Kim Hongjoong, that's who you are.

⤐

「 +1 」

You work up the courage to ask one of your classmates about Kim Hongjoong, and she tells you which year he's in, and what class he belongs to. But that's all you do. You don't have the courage to actually go up to him, say hello, potentially become friends or even more. All you can think of is how brightly he shines whenever you see him.

It makes you wary of approaching him. It scares you when you think of how he must have so many other people that he could possibly like. It's just a dumb crush, if you ignore it long enough, maybe it really will dissipate on its own.

He's in the year above you, and you have two more years before you graduate. So you can count on seeing him around the coming year too, when he'll be a senior and absolutely dashing in his tie with the senior stripes.

And he'll have time for your juniors too, who'll flock to him because he'll be that model senior, won't he? The one that everyone loves. You'll just be one of those people. Your classmate mentioned he's a potential candidate for the student council; doesn't that make him some sort of god?

No use crying over spilled milk, and no use pursuing someone far out of your league, you tell yourself. So you go on with your life, studying for finals, or trying to, and hoping that you don't fail and get held a year back. That'd just be worse in the grand scheme of things, what with your traitorous heart still wanting to not look like a fool if you and Kim Hongjoong ever cross paths again. Just imagining how he'd look at you if you got held back is enough to spur you into studying, but it's also irritating as anything because he's the reason why you've been so distracted throughout the year.

Finals pass by in a blur, in before you know it you've surprisingly passed and levelled up in school years.

And yes, you're still avoiding Hongjoong like your life depends on it, every time you see him in the halls, you turn away and walk off in the other direction. And yes, you're still crushing on him. You come across two more of his friends, Jung Wooyoung and Choi San, who are both in your class and sit right behind you. You pretend not to know anything about him most times, and it works, to a certain extent.

When they do bring him up, you just make one excuse after another, slowly perfecting the art of fooling people (at least, you think).

"Y/n, remember that time you saved that guy from falling on his face?" gets answered with "I've saved plenty of people from falling like that in my life, who are you talking about, again?"

Wooyoung gives a shit-eating grin and says he's sure a lot of people have fallen for you, which both amuses and slightly saddens you. Because no, you don't know how many people have fallen for you, if any at all. You've always been oblivious (read: blind), and your tendency to avoid people whenever you start developing feelings for them is a major hindrance at times.

You'd like to hear at least once that someone has a crush on you and you make their heart pound, but you've never received such a confession. And you don't think you're ever getting it from Hongjoong of all people, so it makes you even more determined to blow off any mention of him. You do become tentative friends with San and Wooyoung, and the friendship gradually gets to the point that you can actually feel comfortable laughing and joking with them about such things.

But you still never bring Hongjoong up, and neither do they, as time passes.

You sometimes still catch Hongjoong's eye through a crowd of people, and every time you find yourself stilling as time slows down too, it sends a pang of hurt through you. There's also guilt, because behind the ever-present smile you can see how his face falls, and his light dims. You're the reason for that.

Wooyoung and San are both in the dance club, with their gorgeous friend Yeosang who sometimes drops by during lunch and spends time with the three of you. He's the one who starts talking about Hongjoong again, mentioning him now and then, and that's how the floodgates open.

Before you know it, San is moaning about his crush on one of the members of the music club, and how Mingi and Hongjoong get to spend way too much time with them. "It's only natural, San," you end up commenting, "He's the club president, he's meant to interact with the members."

The boy's eyes narrow as he stares at you, and then he cracks a smile. "Club president, huh? What about Mingi?" The question makes you defensive, and you abruptly ask, "What?", to which he just shakes his head, unsettling you even more.

If that wasn't enough warning for you to never speak again about the boy who stole your heart, Wooyoung starts talking about the store where Hongjoong works, and all of a sudden he has the juiciest gossip ever regarding the customers there. Do you care? No. Does San care? Not at all. Yeosang? Couldn't care less. But both of them seem so absorbed that you start to feel like you're being too unreasonable and suspicious with the way you keep avoiding him.

There's always the chance that Hongjoong hasn't yet figured out why you avoid him, and if you continue acting the way you do, he might just find out. And that'll be even worse, now that you're friends with his friends.

So you condition yourself to relax and not freak out whenever Hongjoong is mentioned.

It results in three things. One, you stop freezing up every time your friends mention him. Two, you actually come to terms with the fact that you're completely, irrevocably, not-so-stupidly in love with him. You have to be pretty smart to be in love with such a guy, quite honestly. Three, you end up facing Hongjoong for possibly the first time in months, and you make yourself at least nod and smile at him. You receive that lovely smile from him, which makes your heart race like anything, but surprisingly, you're able to act normal. (You hope.)

Your second proper conversation with him is something along the lines of you telling him to stop teasing San, and he widens his eyes, swearing up and down that he has no idea what you're talking about, but Wooyoung tells you later that everyone already knows about San's crush anyway. So, Hongjoong can still joke around with you, despite you having given him the cold shoulder - or no shoulder, honestly - for so long.

As you continue making small-talk with him, you realise he's really easy to talk to. Putting aside the fact that you like him, he's so cute and charming and interesting and all things good that you just can't help but feel so happy when you talk to him, and it's really easy.

There's just one thing that has changed. You no longer get to hold his hand. You can't act like you're doing it in the heat of the moment, without realising, so you can't step forward and grab his hand despite how you're sometimes almost crying with laughter at the things he tells you.

Hongjoong is an idiot who finds the weirdest things funny, an absolutely beautiful, lovable idiot, and he makes you so happy you might combust. But you can't hold his hand, because that's one thing you just can't convince yourself to do. That's perhaps the only thing that'll give away your love for him now, and you can't let him find out. Not when you're finally friends.

San asks you one day, "What's the first thing you would do if you got together with someone?"

"Hold their hand," slips out almost immediately from your mouth, because that's exactly what you're daydreaming about, and you bite your tongue when you notice the smirk on his lips.

"Why?" he asks, and you shrug, making an off-handed (yes) comment about enjoying the closeness.

He'd probably ask you more, but Wooyoung bursts into the classroom, looking way too gleeful with Yeosang hot on his heels, and you watch as the long time friends argue a bit before turning to you and San. "Mingi told your crush you like them, San." says Wooyoung, just as Yeosang slaps a hand over his mouth.

You can feel the boy next to you freezing, his bottom lip quivering before he lets out a laugh that's way too loud, and says he's not afraid. He sounds like you did when you stayed up late at night, convincing yourself that you didn't like Hongjoong, back when you didn't even know his name.

So you pat his arm, and offer, "I'll go scold him if you need." He gives you a slightly panicked smile, but shakes his head, before he gets up and says he'll talk to Mingi himself. You watch him leave, then turn to the other two boys and ask Yeosang why he didn't want San to know.

He gives you a disbelieving stare, before shaking his head and muttering something, which makes Wooyoung burst into laughter. You let out an annoyed sigh, before getting up from your seat and walking out of class.

Hearing about crushes only makes you think of Hongjoong, as sappy as that sounds, and you're also slightly mad at Mingi for throwing his friend under the bus so easily. You could never face Hongjoong again if someone told him, especially one of your close friends. San is a lot more sensitive than he seems, and you can only hope Mingi had a legitimate reason for doing what he did.

You're wandering aimlessly when someone calls out, "What're you doing out here?"

You whirl around, eyes meeting Hongjoong's, and your mouth opens wordlessly, then closes. "Mingi." You say, hoping that one word explains everything. It doesn't, and you sigh before everything pours out, how you know San would be hurt if things didn't go well, how Mingi shouldn't have been the one to tell them anything.

"So you're going in there for backup?" He asks, and you frown. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just walking around because I didn't want to stay in class with Yeosang and that loser." You feel bad for calling Wooyoung a loser, but you don't like how elated he looked when he broke the news.

Hongjoong laughs at that, shoulders shaking slightly, which you totally don't admire. You don't, because you're too busy trying not to blush at the sound, nails digging into your palms as you ball your fists.

"Good, don't go." He says at length, and you look at him questioningly. "I'm getting to see you alone after so long, without all those kids breathing down your neck. Stay with me?"

"Well, it's not my fault you're such a busy senior, with your club and studying and even work and everything." You say, rolling your eyes and grinning to let him know you're joking. He pouts at that, but you follow him anyway as he walks over to the stairs.

As you climb them, walking behind him, you remember how you'd seen him a year ago on these stairs, grabbed onto his hand like an idiot. The you from that time would never believe you'd actually ever get to walk next to this amazing being, and even call him a friend.

"Mingi actually told San's crush because it got tiring for everyone to hear his moaning." He offers as you both come to a stop once the flight of stairs ends and you reach the platform before the next one.

"But that's not for him to decide," you argue, "No one should have to be outed like that, especially by their friends."

"But do you think San would do anything otherwise?" Hongjoong asks, and you don't have an answer. He exhales, before he turns further towards you, and you shoot him a surprised look. "I don't know about him, but I realised something. San still has another year here. I don't. And if I don't confess my feelings to the person that I like now, then I'll not have another chance."

Your heart sinks.

You'd always pushed the thought out of your head. But here it is. Hongjoong likes someone. He likes someone and-

And you almost miss his next sentence.

"That's why I asked you to come with me, instead of seeking out San and trying to do damage control."

Your eyes flit over to his. Your face says nothing, but your eyes say it all. He gives a soft smile, "It's you, y/n."

A beat passes.

"I'm telling you now because there won't ever be a better time. It's also because I don't want someone else to steal the light, or even you, but yeah, I'd like if you heard from me that I like you. Which I do. A lot."

Your hands are trembling, and you clench your fists harder than before, nails digging into your skin that much harder as you try to make sense of the words. "Are you joking?" the question finally slips out, and you hate that you can't even say it as a statement, because you don't want it to be a joke.

"I'm not, I promise." He says it with such determination and assurance that you can't help but believe him. "I really do like you, I have for quite a while."

You're silent for a bit, and he gives you that much, knowing you're thinking a million things that need straightening out. He always knows. It's why he's Hongjoong, the boy who cares so much about people.

"How long?" You ask after a while.

"The day I almost fell face first on the floor, you stopped me from doing so. But I did fall. I fell for you when you took my hand and saved my life."

You laugh, but you can also feel your eyes watering, and it ends up making you look more than a little shaken. He's exaggerating, and from the grin on his face, he knows it too. But he's not lying, because you do have eyes and you can see that he's blushing, and he keeps clenching his hands shut into fists, then unclenching them.

He steps forward suddenly, and you have no warning before he grabs one of your hands in his. His palm is slightly moist, though it's still warm, and with a start, you realise that he's actually nervous.

"I really care for you. Have always, ever since then. Since the beginning. And I know you came to the store a lot. You'd go in right after I left, and all my co-workers had too much fun telling me that. They all said it was because you knew I had a thing for you."

Fingers weaving in between yours as he curls them over the back of your hand, he continues, "These hands, I want to hold them all the time. I want to hold you too, of course, but..."

"But you just want me for my hands." You say.

He laughs, a beautiful sound in the silence surrounding you, your own little world on the stairs, away from everyone else. "Not just your hands, but maybe they matter a lot more to me than you think. These hands are mine. Mine to hold, mine to love."

The way he calls your hands his makes you tear your eyes away from his, flushing as your eyes settle on your hands joined together.

"Won't you give me a chance?" he asks, and his thumb is still stroking your hand, his palm warm against yours as he holds your hand like it's the most delicate flower on the planet. Safe. it makes you feel cared for.

As you blink back your tears, you nod.

He smiles, then closes the remaining distance between the two of you. After a year and a half of knowing this boy, he's kissing you, hand in yours with that sweet smile of his against your lips.

•   •   •

[moon-light-jukebox]

What could have been: the original plot for “all you have to do is ask”

So, for some context, initially Reid was the one who was injured. And the angst was all because Reader couldn’t let herself be with him at all. They were never going to have “sex” until chapter 10. 

Obviously all of that is different now, but, here are some snippets of what might have been, copied and pasted directly from my computer as a sort of apology for what I put you through today. 

Notes

Chapter 7. “Don’t,” I whispered against his mouth. “Just be with me. Please? Spencer, just be with me now.”

Chapter 8. I had expected him to try and reach out to me. I hadn’t expected him to show up at my front door in the middle of the night. “Spencer,” my voice was thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/n, you can’t keep doing this.” He looked wild, his hair sticking up in different directions, his eyes rimmed with red. “I can’t keep watching you do this.”

“Doing what, Reid? What am I doing?”

He rushed forward, his hands cupping my jaw, his eyes staring into mine with a sorrow that stole my breath. “You’re shutting me out. I know it’s hurting you the way it’s hurting me.” I shook my head, but he would not be silenced. “It is hurting you, y/n. I can see it. I’m so sorry that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him. It was wrong. He was wrong.”

It felt wrong to have any words about my ex in Spencer’s mouth. Spencer was pure and light and warm. He was everything I had ever wanted.

“I want to be there for you,” he was so desperate. “But you won’t let me!”

His volume was still low but his words were laced with so much passion. “Spencer…I’m not- I’m not what you want.” My voice was thick with the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.

“No, no, baby. No. You are everything I want.”

He looked so earnest during his declaration that the dam cracked inside me, a few tears slipping down my cheeks.

“You have to let someone care about you, y/n,” his thumbs brushed my tears away. “I care about you. Please, please let me care about you.”

But, how could I? That was my only thought when his lips pressed to mine. If I let him care about me…I’ll have to admit how much I care about him

Chapter 8.

“Y/l/n,” Hotch’s voice carried through the fog that was surrounding my head. “Go home. The doctors said he’ll be fine. We just have to wait for him to wake up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” My voice was raspy, broken; I barely even recognized. “I won’t leave him Hotch.”

“Y/n,” he began again.

“I said no Aaron.”

That gave him pause. That made his eyes take in the scene before him in a totally different way. I wasn’t looking at him, my eyes were focused on my beautiful boy, this amazing man that wasn’t even mine. Because I wasn’t looking, I missed the way Hotch’s face softened, the way his brows dropped, and his mouth seemed to relax into something that was almost a smile. His hand clapped over my shoulder. “Call us when he wakes up.”

All I could offer him was a tight nod.

-

Chapter 9

I’m not sure how much time had passed while I sat with Spencer; the shifting of the sun’s shadow in the room was the only indication that the world was continuing on for everyone else. My world had long stopped moving.

I held his hand in mine, brushing my thumb over the dry skin on the back of his hand. “You know, I was afraid to touch you for so long.” I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I had to tell him. “I thought that I would make you uncomfortable.” I gave a bitter chuckle. “I wasted so much time, Spencer. Not just with you. I wasted so much of my life being so blind.” A sob hiccupped in my chest while I rubbed the tears on my face away. “I let this one man, this one stupid mother fucker control so much of my life. For so long.”

I clung to his hand, unsure of how long I sat there before I spoke again. It felt like years and it felt like seconds “I…I had you, Spencer. You were right fucking there in front of me, And I let you go. You came to my door in the middle of the night like some hero out of a fairytale begging me to let you care about me.” My voice shook. Even if he could hear my words, I don’t know that he’d understand them. “But I do care about you.” I looked at his face, so still. I would have given anything in that moment to see him blush again. “The doctors say you’re going to be fine, they’re just waiting for you to wake up,” I rushed on. “I promise I’ll tell you again when you wake up. I swear it Spencer.”

The words I was so afraid of tumbled out of me. “You’re the most wonderful person in the entire world. And I…I love you, Spence. I’m not even sure when I started loving you; I feel like this love has always been a part of me.” My words were just whispered that sat in the air. “I love you so goddamn much. And I’m afraid. I’m so afraid. You have to wake up. Please. Spencer, I can’t do this without you. I can’t do any of this without you.”

--

Chapter 10

Reid had been released from the hospital earlier that day. I pretended that it didn’t hurt that he asked Morgan to drive him home. I acted like it was fine that Penelope sat with him for the first 24 hours to watch over him.

He’s alive, I told myself. Even if I can’t have him. He’s alive. That’s enough.

--

“I heard you.”

My brows drew together. “What?”

“In the hospital,” he said simply. “I heard you. At first I thought I had dreamed it, because it was all I dreamed of since I’ve known you.”

My heart stopped; my breath froze in my lungs. Fuck. “Oh.”

He walked towards me, his steps purposeful and slow.

“I meant it, Doc.” I kept my eyes on him; he deserved that. “I meant every word.”

When I dreamed of this moment, I dreamed of passion. I dreamed of Spencer Reid pulling me into his arms and kissing me so hard; like I was the air he needed to breathe.

Reality was so much better. I don’t think Spencer Reid knew how to kiss without holding his partner’s face. Those soft, soft hands came up to cup my face. One of my many favorite things about this man was that he was never afraid to be himself. I’m sure he didn’t give the tears that were in his eyes a second thought, they didn’t mean that much to him; but those tears, that emotion meant so much to me. “You don’t have to be afraid, y/n,” he whispered. “If you’ll let me, I want to love you so much that you never have to be afraid again.”

--

I really hope y'all like my new ending better then this one...or I might cry. The epilogue has been, and will always be, the same. 

tagging the folks that asked for this: @rachelxwayne @imjusthereformggcontent @cielo1984 @exbest-friend

[modestlyabsurd]

Survival Pt. 3 (Loki x Reader)

So far, a few things have been discovered through your Asgardian-Jötun defense training: for one, Loki is literally a soldier. Well actually, a warrior. He's a goddamn fighting machine. For some odd reason that has never crossed your mind. With the privilege of guns and bows and knives, exactly how skilled he is in hand-to-hand combat has never really come into play.

The second thing you've learned is just how unskilled you are in hand-to-hand combat.

It's embarrassing when you think about it. Of course, thinking about it is what got you knocked down with a blade to your throat probably eight out of ten times. Oh yeah, Loki wasn't fucking around. He showed you a few things. Without any weapons, you're shit.

You shudder to think what you'd be without him. Dead? No, probably worse. In a lot of ways.

He lay, after finally giving in to slumber a few hours ago, under a pink mildewy comforter on the mattress. He'd trained you all night and well into the morning. Gone was the bright springy sun from yesterday, and in its place was a grayish blue sky covered in fish-scale clouds. That's always a sign of a cold front, but damn, how could it get any colder? Surely some sort of solar collapse would take place if it did. Regardless, that meant problems.

The physical training had not been the best thing for Loki to do. He won't admit it because he's as stubborn as a jackass. But he's hungry.

Despite feeling the effects of not sleeping much after taking the Advil, you got up at daybreak when the light came in the kitchen window and reviewed your stocks. You already know it's bad but that doesn't matter; Loki's gonna eat today even if you have to force feed him.

Not that you could possibly restrain him long enough to do so. Not that you could restrain him at all ... God, you're sore from training with a famished person. It was nice, though.

Loki had already replaced the food into your backpacks, but he left the notepad open on the counter with them. At first you struggle to read his ridiculously pretty, loopy cursive handwriting. It's prettier than your grandma's.

18.2.2020

x1 tinned pineapple

x2 tinned tuna fish (cat food)

x1 handisnacks cheese and crackers (what?)

x1 smashed cereal bar

a bit of peanut butter.

We MUST find more.

~L

"Well no shit, Sherlock," you mumble.

The logical option is obvious. You dig into your backpack and find the cans of tuna, as Loki begins to stir in his sleep. Green eyes shine from across the room and long arms emerge from the blanket like butterfly wings. You can't help but grin a little.

He groans upon seeing you. "Good morning."

"Morning. Nice hair."

"Mm, yes. The morning after look suits you nicely as well," he murmurs. Damn your burning face.

"You wish."

Loki sits upright and slowly stands up, looking around the heart of this small house. As if it didn't look bad enough, it became sparring grounds last night. Everything was fine - until he decided to reverse the roles and let you practice a bit. Scattered glass from broken artwork, a dented kitchen cabinet, and now one of the floor boards is bowing up. Loki smiles, remembering that last take-down of yours and feeling something come loose beneath him.

You'd thought you broke one of his bones, and he let you think it. His muscles cramping from laughter and nearly getting punched in the face established the end of your first training session.

The floors creak even louder now as he approaches you by the kitchen sink. He places a hand on your shoulder with pride. "You did well last night."

You scoff, "Tell that to my ass that got kicked."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," he encouraged, his voice not fully awake. "I'm no easy teacher. But you learn quickly. You just need a bit of patience, grasshopper." He booped your nose.

"Yeah, whatever," you try not to smile. "Oh, by the way, this is not cat food. It's real tuna and you're gonna eat it."

Loki visibly gets on the defense. "Are you ordering me?"

You notice the jab but remain composed. "Yeah, Mr. Prince of Asgard, I am."

"And if I refuse?"

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

He shrugs. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are! Would you stop lying?!" the slam of the can rings through the walls and makes Loki jump.

"I don't need - "

"What did we agree on?" you demand.

He purses his lips solemnly. "No lies. No lies between us."

"And you've been lying about this for a minute."

"I haven't!" he hisses. "I don't know what you're so worried about but it's senseless! I can take care of myself, my body is not the same as yours - I'm not human!" The harshness of his eyes, so literally and figuratively transparent, along with the gauntness of his cheeks unnerved a distant part of your mind.

"I think you're the one that's worried."

His slightly agape mouth sighs and his eyes blink in disbelief. The harshness melts away. He looks anywhere but in your face. You're so bloody perceptive. Normally it's quite helpful, and it's one of the things he likes about you. But not when you read him like a cheap, paperback novel.

"Loki, I don't wanna be mad. I don't want us to yell and scream at each other. Just ... be a good cat and eat the fucking tuna." You slide the can over to him, "For me."

He picks up the can with pale, deft fingers, looking it over deep in his thoughts. The only other person who knew him so well was Frigga. His hidden feelings. The right things to say. The code to crack his walls. How, especially in such a tumultuous world, does someone else know the same things? A human nonetheless. Of course, he knows if he thought about it too much he'd eventually figure out the answer.

He's not sure he wants to know the answer. At least for now. Maybe even for eternity.

Having gathered the will to look you in the eye, he notices your face painted with dirt. Your hair, growing over your eyes and nearing your shoulders. The rip at your jacket collar. The healing cut on your lip.

"It seems you possess patience already. What you lack is the ability to harness it."

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. "Was this a test?!"

"It was," Loki chirps while opening the tuna can, "and you passed with excellence."

~

More training filled the rest of the morning easily. Amidst the physicality of sparring in life-and-death scenarios, Loki assessed your mentality as well. He sharpened your strengths, which grew the fastest in your fighting, and honed in on your weaknesses. Most, if not all, stemming from your emotions.

He went so far as to create illusions to test you. Only, you didn't realize they were illusions.

Whilst showing you one of the many ways to escape someone's grip without the help of a weapon, he mounted you with his knees pinning your shoulders. Your arms useless, your neck exposed to his silver dagger. The coldness of the blade was paralyzing.

"This feeling means you're not dead and you have time to act."

"Fuck, your breath reeks."

Loki nearly loses it all. "Focus, you sausage! You have to act fast!"

You try to move what little you can when suddenly the weight holding you down is thrown to the floor. A man has Loki down and connects with a few punches before you can launch to your feet. The dagger was dropped in the struggle so you grab it and drive it through the stranger's neck, only to lose balance and nearly fall. Your hand went through air.

The man was air?!

Someone seizes your mishap from behind and wraps their arms around your throat. You distantly hear Loki scream your name before the feeling of cold, hard metal presses against your skull.

"Whatever you've got, give it!"

Once your vision focuses you see Loki, his hands above his head, begging. "Let her go. Please."

"Now!"

"We don't have anything!"

"The backpacks! Get 'em! Empty everything out!"

Loki keeps looking at you, as if he's begging you to do something. Then you remember the dagger you're clutching in your hand.

You swing toward the stranger's head. Again, your arm goes through air, but at last you're free. Frantically you look around to find where the air people are coming in. Before you pass Loki, he haults you.

"Come on! We gotta stop them - "

"Easy, darling, easy," he coos, "it's alright. There's no one here."

"But they, they are! They were here ... "

"Shhh," he grips your shoulders down to your triceps, looking deeply into your eyes. Instantly calming you down. "It's alright, darling. It was all an illusion. We're safe."

"Wh... Illusion..?" you ask breathlessly. The house is quiet. The wind howls outside. Everything begins to play out in your head again; how your hand kept going through the robbers. They weren't real. In one hand, you want to melt into Loki's embrace due to the draining withdrawal from raw fear.

But in the other hand is the dagger.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you swing wildly, not aiming at anything but definitely aiming for something. Loki disarms you before you poke an eye out.

Many, many obscenities later and you're sitting on the mattress together discussing your strengths and weaknesses while cleaning your weapons.

"Your reflexes are a bit slow, but they're improving. Just when the fear is about to consume you beyond return, you recover, and you recover well. Your strikes are deadly. But that bit of time when your emotions dare to take over ... it could be enough time for anything to happen."

"Yeah, yeah. What's my grade?" you wipe the barrel of your rifle.

Loki laughs. "You've graduated from grasshopper to novice. Well done."

You smile at him.

Then, you hear it.

Far off, but approaching.

Your eyes dart toward the sound, then drift back to Loki staring back at you.

A herd.

Loki frowns, his brows furrowing above sorrowful green eyes.

"We have to move."

~

i aint fuckin around no more y'all. this is a motherfuckin Last of Us AU

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

[stardust-22]

WHAT IF THIS HAPPENED (AU) CH.6 Part 1/?

A/N: This was intense and stressful to write but I'm so satisfied on how this chapter turned out. I thank Sami @xxspacequeennxx​ for helping me with this bad boy! Sorry for the delay and I hope y'all will enjoy this :)

Tagging @totalfictionprincess @elizaglad @turtlesandalpacas @kanakalala458 @justconfusedperiod @aesthetically-feisty @apocalypticdetention @scriberated @bluecandy91 @calibansprincessx @perfect-ginger-maniac @xxspacequeennxx @calibanswhore​ 

CAUSE SQUAD XX

THIS IS PART 1, WILL POST PART 2 AFTER THIS.

SUMMARY: Sabrina is crowned Queen of Hell. Then she reveals a shocking surprise to everyone.

CHAPTER 6: THE CORONATION

CHAPTER 1| CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6 PART 2|

SABRINA POV

“Lilith in your last act as regent, will you prepare our young queen?” I looked at Lucifer as he ordered Lilith.

She gave him a slight nod and obeyed. Lilith took me to my royal chambers to help me get ready for my coronation. My hair was curled and put into a chignon bun. I was dressed in a black bodysuit with a corset that had golden lining around the top of the bodice. Afterwards, my handmaidens put the petticoat over me.

Lilith walked back into the room and kneeled before me. She started giving me a speech.

“Every queen must be made battle-ready. Every girl must prepare for war.”

I held onto the handmaidens’ hands as Lilith helped me put on these black sparkling stilettos on my feet.

“Lilith, can you be a dear and fetch me something to calm down my nerves. And handmaidens, I might need some refreshments. Thank you.”

Lilith and the handmaidens bowed and left the room to get the stuff that I needed. Finally, I can text Cousin Ambrose that I won the final regalia. I’m still surprised that there’s even wifi here in hell.

Even though I wasn’t thinking of him, Caliban appeared in my room.

“Hello, my Queen. Isn’t it a lovely day for a coronation?” He said this as he was walking up to me.

“Caliban, why aren’t you hiding in your glamour. You could have been seen by someone!” I’m so frustrated with him.

“Relax Princess. I made sure to remain unseen and I had a feeling you were thinking about me.” He came up right in front of me and had a look in his eyes.

“Well you certainly came in a bad time. But my cousin Ambrose said to be prepared for the havoc that I’m going to cause for us soon.”

“The plan is after you get crowned then you will make the announcement about us and we go from there?” Caliban wanted to make sure that this was the plan.

“Yes. We could change your glamour to be one of my handmaidens since they’ll have to stand by me anyways. But change into it now before they come back here.”

“Before I do that, I wanted to give you something to calm down your nerves or so I’ve heard. In order to do that I need you to close your eyes since it’s a surprise.”

“Okay but no funny business.” I gave him a serious look.

“Princess, I will always ask for your consent and I think you would like this gift.” He told me cheekily.

I closed my eyes and felt something slipped onto my neck.

“Okay, open your eyes and tell me what you think of it.”

I opened my eyes and it was a shape of a teardrop that’s amethyst and copper wire wrapping around the amethyst like branches connected all over each other as one (wiring is shaped like a tree). I didn’t expect a necklace but everything looked cared for and homemade.

“Thank you..” As I was going to thank Caliban, we heard some scuffling by the door and I motioned my arm and mouthing to him to glamour himself. He changed into a handmaiden immediately, while in walked Lilith and my other two handmaidens.

“My Queen, I have something for you that you can take to calm your nerves. Here are essential oils with a pietersite, that’ll help soothe your nerves.”

The pietersite looked like a red brown color that’s slabbed with black on the crystal. According to Lilith, it’ll help with motivation and going forward in life. Including achieving goals, tasks like a powerful leader while keeping yourself grounded physically and spiritually to the earth’s energy. Healing properties said to help with blood flow.

After that, Lilith hands me the items while my handmaidens provided me with refreshments as I was parched from getting ready.

After that little detour, Lilith and co helped me finish getting ready for the coronation. After my gown was placed over my bodysuit & petticoat, I looked at the mirror to see what it looked like. The gown is a metal black colour with a sweetheart neckline outlined with pale lilac roses flowing down the bodice of the dress. That is also shown throughout the chiffon skirt and includes sheer long sleeves & golden rhinestones.

___________________________________________________________________

While Sabrina was preparing for her coronation, back at the Spellman household, Ambrose and Aunt Hilda had a conversation.

“We brought Dr. Cee’s cocoon back from the store. He’s downstairs ready for you to say goodbye.” Ambrose tells Aunt Hilda.

Aunt Hilda then goes downstairs on the verge of tears. The moment she goes downstairs and looks to the side, there appears Dr. Cee sitting upright like he had woken up. Aunt Hilda was holding his memorial picture frame and dropped it in shock when she saw him there. She rushes up to him saying, “Dr. Cee, I thought I murdered you.”

He responds with, “Almost but not quite nearly my love.” They’re laughing and joking around with each other.

“I must have been saving you to eat later.” Aunt Hilda jokes to him. They both hugged afterwards.

____________________________________________________________

Going back to Sabrina and Lilith who was helping her tighten her dress.

“Gird your loins. Let nothing touch you. Let no man hold power over you.”

____________________________________________________________

Back to Zelda and Mambo Marie, who were having a conversation at the academy’s office.

“What are you now if not the Church of Night?” Mambo Marie asked Zelda.

“The Order of Hecate. Worshipping the three in one.” Zelda responded back to her.

“Zelda…. There’s an even darker evil force on the horizon, I fear. A sense of Sa Ki Mal lingers in the air. We must harness your covers, maternal pouvoir for protection and prepare them for war.”

“Am I to take it that means you’ll be staying on?”

“Only if I am welcome, ma cherie.” Mambo and Zelda then kiss.

________________________________________________________

One of the handmaidens (Caliban in disguised tho) hands Lilith a pair of the earrings she chose for Sabrina.

“And when they cry out for mercy, the Morningstar must show them none.” After Lilith helped put the earrings on for me, I grabbed my necklace that Caliban gave to me and looked at Lilith questionably. Almost as saying that we’ll talk later.

Lilith starts to prepare for my makeup. I looked in the mirror and felt so in shock on how different I looked compared to my wedding attire that I had.

While Lilith applies my makeup, she says to me: “Your crown and throne awaits you. First Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows. Behold the Queen.. Sabrina Morningstar.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Well, I’ll get started on something. Let’s… I mean, let’s have a lovely family dinner, favorite dishes only?” Hilda said.

“It won't be the same without Sabrina, will it?” Zelda piped in.

Ambrose looks up, “Actually we have a celebration to go to.. More of a ceremony than a celebration really.”

“And where is this celebration being held?” Aunt Zelda questioned him.

Before Ambrose was going to respond back to her, Minion suddenly appeared in front of them.

Minion announces, “Before anyone threatens to kill me. I was sent here by Sabrina to invite you all to her coronation. You are all needed to attend and we must go now, immediately.”

They all look in shock towards Minion.

“Come now, you are late. We must go to Dorian’s Gray Room. Everyone is waiting.”, Minion continues.

“And who is everybody?”, Hilda questions.

___________________________________________________________________

Once Minion had teleported the remaining Spellmans and the addition of Dr.Cee to Dorian’s Gray Room, all the invites were completed. Those who were invited include The Fright Club (plus Robin now), Prudence, Nick, Dorcas and Dorian.

After everyone was about to settle in the room, Minion had to interrupt them.

“No time for talking or any questions, we must hurry. The coronation is about to start. Everything will be answered in due time.”

Minion then teleports everyone in the room to the main floor of Pandemonium. Lucifer sees them but gives no attention as Sabrina walks through the golden doors with her handmaidens behind her.

The doors went wide open for me as I was going inside. Everyone around me started to kneel as reverent music played in the background. As I looked through the crowd, Caliban who unglamoured himself, snuck in and disguised himself with a mask on his face right next to the many elite demons. While walking through, one of the she-demons sniffed my coronation mantle after I passed by them. After all this, while I was gliding up the stairway towards Lucifer, Caliban was walking through the crowd with more confidence in his stature. He looks towards me and soon, but not now he will make his entrance.

Everyone was clapping in applause as I soon neared Lilith and Lucifer at the top of the stairway.

Lucifer held out his hand towards me which I accepted. He guided me to the front of the throne.

As the fire roared behind me, I held out my hands as a show of strength.

_____________________________________________________________

“It is time to crown the new Queen of Hell”, Lucifer announced to everyone in the audience.  The demons responded back with a roar to his announcement.

“The First Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows. Behold the Queen.. Sabrina Morningstar. Give her the respect she has won and deserved through her trials” Lilith commanded everyone as she placed the royal crown on my head.

As the audience settled down in the crowd, I decided to give a surprise announcement.

“As Queen, I have a very special declaration, that the Infernal Kings might consider as a gift.

You see, I did not win the trials alone. I had helped from a very close companion that some of you might consider an outsider to the Morningstars. They call this place home but to some, they have no place in the kingdom. Longest seen as my enemy, can any of you guess whom this may be? My companion, my friend and now my husband. I’d like to introduce you all to your King, my husband King Caliban.”

Stage right from behind Lucifer, was Caliban who was sliding the mask off his face. Caliban walked past Lucifer and went to stand beside me.

Everyone’s reactions in the crowd were shocked except for Ambrose who was happy for his cousin. Everyone’s reactions were mixed.While Aunt Hilda was giddy to have a nephew in law, Aunt Zelda was still processing that I was married. Dr. Cee looked frightened to be here & was in disbelief. The Fright Club was even worse for wear. Harvey was pissed off, Roz felt betrayed I didn’t say anything to her, Theo was indifferent and Robin looked surreal that he was in hell (lol).

Prudence had a proud look on her face (approval #3 behind Ambrose & Aunt Hilda), Dorcas looked jealous, Nick was seething with anger and jealousy and Dorian looked happy to be in the drama.

Lilith looked appalled and processed everything going on as Lucifer could not believe the betrayal of his own daughter after he so warned her.

The Infernal Kings were in glee happily due to the revelation that Caliban was King Consort to the throne and married to me.

Caliban took my left hand and then murmured a spell to unglamoured our wedding rings.

The room stayed silent for the next couple minutes still reeling in shock until joy spread around the demons. They all collectively cheer but also sighed in relief that Lucifer has no claim to the throne because of me.

While Caliban and I were sharing a moment, relieved that we were no longer hiding our marriage from anyone, Lucifer began to usher out everyone in the room wanting to have a private conversation with me perhaps. The Infernal Kings look jeered at this, saying there is more work to be done in Hell now since we became their leaders. But they all leave for a few anyways, to give us time to sit.

I looked towards my family and plus, “Please follow Lilith to our drawing room while the Dark Lord along with myself and Caliban discussed a few things. We’ll be there no sooner than half past 4 at the latest.”

Everyone in my circle was about to give an argument, especially Nick who was reething mad but decided to go along with my request. All alone left in the room now, was Lucifer, Caliban and myself.

Lucifer looked at me with a mean glare and said, “Sabrina why did you not stick with the plan that we had?”

“Because I knew you had some other trick up your sleeve and please Father. You also kept a hidden secret from me! You and Lilith are pregnant and are having a son. You think I wouldn’t have heard about that didn’t you?” I gave him a menacing stare and Cal squeezed my hand in comfort and reassurance.

“Yes but in my perspective, I’ve already told you beforehand. I am crossed with you for hiding this marriage and the fact that you’re married to this Prince of Clay at all.” Lucifer retaliated back at me.

Caliban then stands right in front of me as he faced Lucifer.

“You might be Sabrina’s father but I’m King of Hell now. I won’t let you argue and degrade my beloved’s choices, even to the person to whom she has chosen to marry. Now I suggest to you to leave and get out before I unleashed all of Hell’s power upon you.” Caliban said to Lucifer as he defended myself on my behalf.

I felt a stirring inside me that began to bloom inside my heart. Caliban’s argument to my Father, gave me a different side of him. Instead of his usual, laid back and cheeky demeanor; he looked centered, a leader and a protector. He is also my husband and other half for eternity. After we deal with my Father, we can finally continue on where we left off from our earlier conversation.

Lucifer looked back at me and left the room seething in silence, already beginning his plans to try and take back the throne. After Lucifer left, me and Caliban were finally alone together with each other.

“We have made quite an impression on everyone, haven’t we Princess?” Caliban gave me a smouldering stare as we walked back near the right side of the stairway.

“There were some reactions I thought they would be happy for me except they weren’t unfortunately.” I gave a huge sigh and looked away from his gaze.

Caliban placed his left hand on the left side of my face as I closed my eyes. Whenever I feel his touch, I melt like a puddle. His presence is soothing but I can’t fall back to my old habits.

After I opened my eyes, Caliban had a soft gaze on his face while he looked at me in awe.

“I’m going to stay here by your side and make sure that you aren’t alone by yourself. We had a hunch that some of their reactions weren’t positive. But I am your husband and you don’t have to face everyone else alone head on. And look on the bright side, we have a couple people cheering for us.” He gave me his usual cheeky smirk and grabbed my hand in reassurance.

“You think I would be used to everyone’s reactions whenever I don’t think through my plans. But at least this time, out of all the decisions I’ve made, I’m glad that I have you by my side now and we’ll be able to get through this together.”

After I told Caliban this, I went up to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. He looked surprised but had a hint of blush on his cheeks since I initiated the kiss first. I stepped back afterwards but I forgot we were still holding hands. He then leaned down sweetly, pressing his lips onto my forehead.

I felt the redness on my cheeks go down to my neck. Caliban smiled at me and chuckled.

“That was a pleasant kiss Princess and something I’d like to savor even more. And I know you wanted to continue our earlier conversation before the final regalia but I fear that it must still have to wait. But do not worry, we will be able to continue much more intimately soon.”

I was still in a daze from what happened between us that I completely forgot about the elephant in the other room. That everyone was waiting for us in the drawing room with Lilith.

“Thanks for reminding me Cal. I completely, almost had forgotten about the others waiting in the drawing room. Hopefully, this won’t turn into a screaming match but who knows with them.

And I can’t wait for our conversation later.”

I gave him a cheeky smile as I led us out of the main throne room. We began to walk towards the drawing room that I told Lilith to bring everyone to.

“Anytime, my Princess. I think speaking with them won’t turn out in that direction. But, if it does happen, I’m here by your side and will stand my ground. I’m also looking forward to our conversation later among other things.” Caliban chuckled at me as he saw my mind went to the gutter. It’s definitely not going that way but this clay boy here likes to tease me mercifully. Stupid, cheeky, hot jerk.

“Before this conversation turns into something else. Let’s take care of this situation first and then have our talk since we’re now in front of the drawing room.”

“As you wish, my wife.” Caliban replied back to me, as he let his hand linger besides mine while I opened the door to the drawing room.

[zult-of-zephyr]

Layers

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Hey y'all! So, while I'm working on Curious, I'm also going to be working on a series of Not Snape For Work fics taking place in the same au as Curious, but will be tagged as #Kurious.

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Curious is a Severus Snape x self-ship/x reader/x oc fanfiction. While it can be read as an x reader/x oc fanfiction, and I encourage y'all to do so, it is written first and foremost as a self indulgent fic for me. That being said, it tends to take inspiration from many aspects of my life, such as, but not limited to, my C-PTSD, my personal traumas, my personal Snape headcanons, my interests, etc. This is just a general warning for all chapters of Curious or Kurious, in case this would make any potential readers uncomfortable.

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Layers

Word Count: 2,123

Rating: E for explicit sexual content! Do not read/interact with if you are under 18, and I check every account that interacts with any of my posts.

Short Synopsis: Simone gets dressed with the help of our beloved Severus. This is a very subby sev with a much more dominant reader. Very heated and tender moments happen.

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Winter had always been your favourite season, but since moving to England, fall had replaced that spot in your heart. How it got to be so perfectly chilly. How you got to see the earth start it's slumber. How you actually got to layer your clothes for the chill.

Layering was always a habit of yours, just to regulate temperatures and help you feel safe. It gave you a sense of putting on armour. Literally placing protective charms on your clothes as you put them on, just to have a first line of defense. Your long skirts and slips bundling you up in a warm, comfortable pod, keeping you snug and cozy. Making you feel that safety you long for. But not many got to see the process. Severus, however, was one of those lucky few. One of the few you allowed to strip you of your armour, both literally and figuratively. But he'd yet to actually see you dress yourself.

After pulling an all-nighter of grading papers and potions with your help, you both decided to just stay the night in your cottage rather than have him worry about sleepy apparation nor making the trek up to the castle and then down to his quarters.

You always wake up early, seeing the sun not quite up just yet. Knowing that the night terrors and bad memories that often plauged your mind had led to you waking up long before anyone else once again. But it never failed to work you up, shaking as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. After calming down, you got up, deciding to start your day sooner rather than never. Going through the motions of bathroom basics, brushing your hair, teeth, among other things, you finally started the process of getting dressed. But you hadn't realized someone was watching you. That someone had been watching you since your shaky exit from the bed, longing to reach out and hold you, but feared upsetting you more than you already were.

You pulled out your outfit for the day, stacking your clothes in the order in which you needed. Stripping down, assuming you were still the only one awake, you started to get dressed. As you slipped on a fresh set of lace panties, you could feel eyes on you. Knowing they belonged to a certain potions master, you bit your lip as you thought, Might as well give him a show.

You grabbed the first layer of your outfit; a simple pair of black stockings. You slowly pulled on your black tights, up, up, up your body, feeling every curve get enveloped in a sheer blackness. You wiggled your plush ass and thighs into the tight fabric, hearing a sharp gasp from behind you as you pulled the stockings all the way up and into place. However, you didn't look over. You liked teasing him.

Pulling out the second layer, a garter belt, you slipped it on. You smoothed it out over your curves, pulling the garter clips and letting them smack back into place, hitting against the sheer inkiness of your backside. You hear a groan sound from behind you, and you finally look over your shoulder coyly. And it was a sight to behold.

His hair was still disheveled from sleep, his face flushed pink from the scene unfolding in front of him. He was taking deep breaths, slow and steady, but it was merely an act to control himself. But his eyes gave away everything. Oh god, his eyes. They were so intense, staring at every part of you, drinking in your form, the hazy glow of the birth of dawn just barely silhouetting your body. They were dark and beautiful and hungry. And you planned to give him the meal of a lifetime.

"You know, Severus," You purred, finally turning towards him fully, hands covering your nipples,

" People are usually much more excited to see me take off my clothes." You continued, seeing a swathe of red overtake his face and the tips of his ears. His head snapped up, meeting your gaze, and guilt was now added to the mix of emotions swirling around in his eyes. Now that won't do.

You let your breasts free, walking towards him with the rest of your layers in your arms, folding them just so so that they propped up your breasts. He seemed shocked, looking at you, to your breasts, then to anywhere but you. As you got closer to him, he made a motion as if to speak, but stopped when you bent close to his ear. You could feel him shiver from your breath on him.

"Would you like to help me?" You asked, pulling away to make eye contact with him. He seemed shocked, mouth open and gave you a weak nod.

"You'll need to speak up if you want to help."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but after gulping, he managed a shaky, "Y-yes."

"Yes, what?" You teased. God how you loved to tease him.

"Y-yes, I would like to help you dress." He said, looking away from you. You pulled his chin up with a free hand, grazing his neck not-so-accidently. His breath hitched as you gave him a smile and a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away to meet his eyes again.

"Thank you, Severus." You said lovingly. Straightening up, you placed your clothes onto his lap, caressing up his outer thigh as you did so, and smirking when he shuddered at your touch. Yes, teasing him was your absolute favourite thing to do.

Sliding onto the bed, you swiveled your legs to either side of him, propping yourself on your elbows as you laid back. He seemed really flustered now, looking at the clothes, red as can be.

"Socks would be next, Sev. They should be on top." You instructed, loving how you get him worked up like this.

"Ah, yes, let me just-" He started, hands hovering over your leg, as if unsure you if you actually wanted him to touch you or not. As if you ever wanted him not to touch you.

"You can touch me, Sev," you say, placing your right foot into his hovering hand," I won't bite. Yet."

His eyebrows shot up, but he simply shook his head, taking the sock and placing it onto your foot and slowly rolling it up your calf. He caressed your curves and looked at you, that love and hunger returning to his eyes, all guilt having vanished from them. Now that's much better.

After rolling your sock to your calf, he gives you the same treatment to your left leg, placing it down gently. As he does so, you raise yourself up to your knees, leaning over and holding onto his neck. Stradling him, you leaned into the crook of his neck and spoke against his skin.

"Well go on, Severus." You started to kiss him, lightly, only to nibble on his collar bone. He whimpered. Music to your ears.

"Finish what you started."

"R-right!" He barked, starting to roll up your socks completely, groping your soft thighs with happy abandon, moaning now and again when you kissed the rights spots along his neck here and there. He palmed your ass as he grabbed the garter clips kissing your shoulder lightly, lovingly, as he clipped your socks into place. You pulled back, resting yourself on his lap.

He rested his hands on your hips, just staring out you.

"Why did you wake up so early?" He asked nonchalantly, but softly, making sure you met his gaze.

Shit. I'm busted.

"Nightmares... it's normal for me. I'm sorry, I-" You start to ramble, starting pull away, to close up. You hated having to explain, to have to get so wrapped back up in those thoughts and images. To relive something that wasn't even real.

"Do you really think you need to explain nightmares to me, Simone?" Severus cut you off, pulling you back to him, in more ways than one. His sarcastic tone and smirk would've hurt anyone else, but you saw that worry in his eyes, clear as crystal. Worry for you.

"No, I suppose I don't, Severus." You met his gaze with an equally arched brow and sarcasm, but you hoped he could see the graditude in your eyes, see what his touch and his words mean to you. Looking into his eyes, you cupped his cheek and closed the space between you, kissing him as tenderly as you could. He kissed back with a hunger, deeping the tender kiss into something more passionate. You both broke the kiss for air, panting. You could feel he was as hot as you, but you weren't done with your teasing yet. It never gets old.

"My bra, Severus, next is my bra." You panted out, resting back onto his lap. He blinks at your words, still drunk off of the kiss. God, I love him.

"Hmm? Oh yes, yes..." He said, catching his breath as he picked up the black, lacey bra on top of the now crumpled pile of clothes. You moved the pile out of the way, eyeing the erection that tented his boxers. As he slipped the bra onto your shoulders he kissed at your breasts, burying himself inbetween them as he latched your bra into place, moaning as you freed his cock, grazing it lightly with your nails, precum already starting to flow.

Smearing it over his head with your thumb, you felt him inhale sharply against your tits. You gave him a few slow, tortuous pumps before pulling your hand away.

"S-simone, please-" Severus pleaded, thrusting up into the space where your hand was.

"My shirt, Sev. That comes next." You simply said, knowing he'd listen to your every word. He always did.

He quickly pulled out your button up, sliding it over your shoulders. He started buttoning your blouse, fumbling here and there, cursing them. Serves him right, you thought, for all the buttons I have to deal with.

After he gets half way through, you take his cock in your hand again, pumping and twisting your wrist oh so deliciously slowing, pulling another moan from him.

"Now, Sev, you keep on buttoning me up. You wouldn't want me to stop, would you?" You said matter-of-factly, loving the games you played.

"N-no! I-don't stop, please..."

He moans as you pick up pace a little bit more. He starts buttoning up your blouse as fast as he can, little moans and groans emanating from his throat as you slow and quicken your hand's pace with his fumbles. It was delightful to see such skilled hands stumble. All because of you.

As the he fastened the last button, you let go of him, but just as Severus started to beg, you leaned down and licked his shaft from the base to the tip, eliciting a long moan from him. Perfect.

You took his head into your mouth as one of his hands found your hair, entangling itself in your long curls. Humming, you took him into your mouth, hands pressing down on his thighs to keep him from thrusting too hard. He grunted, feeling your vibrating tounge press against his shaft as you hollowed your cheeks, creating sunction as you started to bob your head slowly. He grunts again, thrusting a little as you start to go faster, pulling your hair just right, causing you to moan harder against him. You start to move your head quickly, flicking your tounge along the underside of his shaft in time to his small thrusts.

You can feel his cock pulse in your mouth as he calls out your name with a strangled cry. You pull off of him, letting him cum onto your blouse. You catch his glazed stare, his panting hard and quick.

"Oh, Simone, your shirt, I-" You cut him off by unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it off somewhere in the room.

"How was that?" You asked Severus, hugging onto his neck.

"That? That was-that was wonderful." He responded with a chuckle, draping one arm around you.

"You are wonderful." He finished, placing a lazy kiss on your head.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, whispering a soft thank you against his collar bone. You really did love him. He was so impossibly kind to you.

Suddenly, a mischievous thought crossed your mind as you realized it was Sunday. His off day. Oh, he is not leaving this bed today. You sat up, a glint in your eyes as his quizzical brow shot back up.

"Really? Well, if you thought that was wonderful, how'd you like to help me undress?"

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Wooo, I wrote this in the span of like, four hours, and I think it's actually pretty decent! Be sure to let me know what y'all think, I'd love to from y'all about it!!♡

[nneefa]

fic: the way you do the things you do

fandom: xiaolin showdown

characters: kimiko/raimundo, omi, clay

summary: there was something unsettling about the bruise on raimundo's face, considering it was meant for her.

notes: i struggled really hard with this, though i had a lot of fun with it. deep, introspective writing is not my forte. regardless, i hope y'all enjoy this. dedicated to @writing-saved-my-life

♡

It was funny how things could still manage to be so lively around the temple, considering what had just transpired not even 24 hours ago.

Living and fighting through two, insanely alternate timelines was certainly one thing, but to turn around and battle against the ‘Unwelcomed Mob of Evil’ - as Dojo had so eloquently phrased it - a second time not even ten minutes after coming out of them was just too much, even for Wudai Warriors. Master Fung, thankfully, had the right mind to give them the rest of the day off. He even dismissed them from their chores, of course, putting it off for the following day. According to him, they’d earned it on account of everything they’d been through. It also helped that they’d sustained more injuries on top of what they already had, but none of them dared complain.

Instead, they fell right back into the swing of things. That was, everyone except for Kimiko.

From her position at the infirmary sink, Kimiko watched Omi flit about Raimundo’s cot with the energy of a four-year-old with a sugar rush. Despite his injuries - a knot the size of a ping pong ball on his head, a split bottom lip, and several scrapes and bruises peppered along his knuckles and arms - Omi still found a way to be energetic.

It almost got on her nerves how easily he seemed to bounce back from all of the madness, especially when she couldn’t find it in herself to do the same, but Kimiko decided not to let it bother her too much. She’d almost forgotten what it looked like to see Omi act like an obnoxious little brother to Raimundo, considering his year-long stint spent antagonizing the older boy and all. Thankfully, Raimundo never took the bait, even when Omi seemed overbearingly harsh, and if he’d felt some type of way about it, he hardly let it show. Knowing him, he probably endured it without a second thought towards the consequences. For the sake of reestablishing trust with his friend. For Omi’s sake.

That was something Kimiko could honestly say got on her nerves: not Raimundo and Omi’s endless back-and-forth banter or the time it took to repair their brotherly relationship, but Raimundo’s ability to dive in head first, regardless of the consequences. To be unconditionally kind to and for others, with no concern for himself, was something Kimiko could not, for the life of her, understand.

Like their tag team showdown against the Forces of Evil.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy with their victory or anything. She’d been just as ecstatic as the rest of the team when Omi rescued Dojo, even finding a way to jump for joy despite the sharp pain in her back. But, now that the high was over and in seeing Raimundo’s condition - the bruise under his eye, his fractured hand, the torn flesh on his arm and back, the seared skin on his chest - Kimiko was finding it increasingly difficult to be grateful about anything. A part of her was moved, touched even, that he’d jumped in on her behalf; however, another part of her was angry with him, furious. Especially when it should’ve been her.

“Oh, pleeease, Raimundo, won’t you tell me what it feels like to be Shoku Warrior?” Omi droned for what ought to be the billionth time in the last hour, snapping Kimiko from her train of thought. “I want to be mooost prepared for when I make my transition from Wudai Warrior!”

Raimundo watched him bounce up and down in front of his bed with mild amusement. “How should I know when it hasn’t even been a day yet?”

But it was as if what he said went in one ear and out the other as Omi continued his rant, holding on to the edge of Raimundo’s bed while he bounced on his toes. "Does power surge from your very body? Can you manipulate the wind, at ease, without the use of your Elemental Shen Gong Wu? Can you break the sound barrier? Can you-

“Omi, slow down!” Raimundo cut him off with a shout.

“Yeah, partner. Breathe,” Clay added, rubbing antiseptic into the grooves of his knuckles. He’d scratched his hand trying to fend off Katnappe, Cyclops and the Chameleon Bot, the first of whom he went out of his way not to harm.

Omi did as he was told and took a deep breath. Only to continue rambling again. Raimundo quickly clamped his good hand over Omi’s mouth and answered him with a grin before he could start. “Honestly, minus the robes, it still feels like I’m a Wudai Warrior, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. No, yes, and maybe…, I don’t know yet. Now, are you done?”

Omi nodded his head vigorously and pulled Raimundo’s hand from his mouth. “Ooooh,” he chirped excitedly, clamping his hands over his cheeks, careful to avoid the bump on his head. “I cannot wait for my chance to become a Shoku Warrior! I’ll be all this and a box of cookies.”

“Uh, that’s ‘all that and a bag of chips,’ Omi,” Kimiko finally said, maneuvering away from the sink and towards Raimundo’s bed where the shorter boy stood to hand him an ice cap. “And no offense, but I think you should focus a little less on being a Shoku Warrior and more on your injuries.”

“Yeah,” Raimundo agreed with a snicker. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were sprouting a second head.”

“Well, at least I am not bound to my mattress,” Omi jeered with a flush of his cheeks, hiding his knot beneath his ice pack.

“That’s ‘bedbound,’ knucklehead,” Raimundo guffawed, unable to contain himself anymore, causing Omi to go from pink to red.

Before Clay could stop himself, he burst into laughter too. “Now, Rai,” he managed to say between gasps of air, “that was a low blow. Even for you.”

Kimiko tried and failed to hide her own laughter with a strain of her cheeks, knowing that Omi didn’t enjoy being the butt of anyone’s jokes, especially when it came to his head. “Yeah, Raimundo,” she said, coughing in a feeble attempt to mask her giggles. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Sorry, Omi,” Raimundo immediately apologized, still laughing, though not quite as hard. “I couldn’t resist. I was holding that one in for a minute. No hard feelings, right?”

“None at all, my friend,” Omi huffed, sourly pulling his ice cap away from his head to reveal his bump. The action only made Raimundo erupt into laughter again. Omi looked to Clay with a sharp turn of his head, frowning as he pointedly ignored their newly elected leader. “Come, Clay. I believe it is time for supper.”

“Hoowee! Ain’t that the truth!” the cowboy yipped, slipping off his medical bed to stretch and rub his belly. “I dunno ‘bout y’all, but all this time travelin’ business then done worked up a fella’s appetite. I could eat a horse, I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah, dude that’s gross, but hey, while you’re at it, grab me a plate too,” Raimundo piped in with a wide smile, his amusement finally dying down. “After a long day of kicking evil’s butt, I could use a bite to eat.”

Omi paused just before exiting the infirmary, his hand posted on the threshold of the door, and turned to grace Raimundo with a smirk, a mischievous gleam in his little, brown eyes. “Perhaps, my second head and I will think it over. While we eat.”

Raimundo’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Clay’s hand flew to his mouth as if he’d just heard someone utter a swear word, mirth clear in his blue eye, and he looked, back and forth, between Raimundo’s crestfallen expression and Omi, who’d disappeared down the hall with a smile.

“But- but I’m your leader!” the Shoku Warrior whined.

“In name only!” Omi yelled down the hall playfully.

Raimundo blew out a puff of air, leaning back on his cot with a mock frown. “Ay, you think you know a guy.”

“Sorry, Rai,” Clay chuckled, his apology not even the least bit sincere, though all in good humor. “You got no one to blame but yourself for that one. You comin’, Kimiko?”

Kimiko, who’d been staring at Raimundo’s bandages since the boys’ little exchange, looked up to see Clay watching her. Although his smile appeared relax, even she could see the concern laced in his eye. She bit the inside of her cheek before a sigh could escape her lips, a tinge annoyed at having been caught moping, and graced him with a smile of her own. She wouldn’t put it past Raimundo if he’d noticed her mood either.

“Nah, you go on ahead,” Kimiko told him with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I’ll join you and Omi in a sec. Just need to tidy up a bit.”

Clay looked from Kimiko to Raimundo for a split second, the barest hint of a smile on his face, before tilting his hat down at them. Kimiko didn’t bother trying to interpret what that meant, as she was sure it’d only make her angry. “Okie dokie. I’ll leave you kind folks to it, then,” he said cryptically and, without another word, left the infirmary.

Raimundo barely allowed a second to pass before he spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Alright, girl, out with it.”

Kimiko bristled at his demand, her frown immediate as she turned from where Clay had stood to face Raimundo, who looked nothing short of confused, if not concerned. The urge to ball her fists was fierce, but she held herself back, not wanting to risk reopening the wound on her palm.

“Excuse me?”

Raimundo rolled his eyes, wincing as he sat upright in his bed. “Come on, Kimiko,” he urged, his face softening. “You look worse than Jack after he loses a showdown. You don’t think I noticed the way you’ve been looking at me?”

Heat rose to her cheeks before she could stop herself. Angrily, she asked, “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, girl. You know exactly what I mean,” Raimundo responded exasperately, despite his own blush. “You’ve been looking at me like I died or something. What’s the deal?”

“It’s just that…, well,” Kimiko stumbled, fighting to find the right words to say. She had no intention of beating around the bush with this conversation, but she was finding it very difficult to verbalize her feelings: anger, guilt, worry, gratitude. She’d never felt so many mixed emotions at one time before. In the end, she deflated, gesturing weakly at his condition with a twist of her hand, and softly said, “Look at yourself, Rai.”

He relaxed a little, and gave himself a once over before looking back at Kimiko, his smile as easygoing as ever. “It’s just injuries,” he replied with a shrug, rubbing his wrapped hand. “No big deal. S’not like I haven’t had worse, y’know. Is that why you’re upset?”

Kimiko flared up again, exhaling deeply when she slammed her hands on the guardrail of his bed, startling him. She was pretty sure she just reopened her wound, as her hand throbbed like crazy, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment. “Don’t tell me it’s not a ‘big deal!’ How can you smile like that when you’re stuck in a hospital bed?”

“Whoa, Kim, easy,” he said good-naturedly, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “I just smile. You should try it sometime.”

“This isn’t funny, Raimundo,” Kimiko snapped, glaring at him. His easygoing nonchalance was really starting to grate her nerves. “I’m being serious.”

“I never said it was,” he countered with a glare of his own, though his wasn’t quite as fierce as hers. “So what if I got a few bumps and bruises? At least we won. You’re acting like that’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing when you almost die doing it!” she blurted, wincing when she finally pulled her hand away from his bed rail. It was bleeding. As if on autopilot, Raimundo reached towards her, green eyes filled with concern, and Kimiko jerked back, clutching her hand to her chest like a lifeline. “Don’t, Rai! Just... don't, okay?! I didn’t ask for your help!”

Raimundo blinked at her, wide-eyed, hand frozen in midair. He watched her carefully with a furrowed brow, eventually letting his hand drop in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Kimiko took it as a sign to continue.

“I- I could’ve taken them myself. I could’ve taken all four of them, if I wanted,” she repeated matter-of-factly. Her eyes burned, but whether it was from anger or tears, she didn’t know; however, she decided she didn’t care. All she knew was that if she didn’t get the words out now, she never would. “But then you had to go and play hero, and now look at you. You got hurt because of me. Did you do it because you took pity on me? Huh, is that it? Or was it because I’m a girl?”

“Where do you even get this stuff from?” Raimundo sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Earth to Kimiko. Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to see you get hurt? Hannibal and his goons crowded you. I wasn’t gonna sit there and watch it happen, not without doing something about it. So, I jumped in.”

Kimiko opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off, the look in his eye firm, but gentle. Her heart beat just a little bit faster than normal, but she decided to ignore it.

“And I would’ve done the same thing, no matter who it was, whether it was you, Clay, or Omi. You guys are my friends.” He paused to flash her a toothy grin. “And I don’t regret it either. That’s just the kinda person I am, Kim.”

Raimundo’s smile was so infectious that Kimiko found herself returning it. She took a deep breath, the guilt she’d been feeling since earlier easing away like a dying flame. “You do know there’s a difference between being kind and reckless, right, Raimundo? One of these days, you’re going to get yourself killed over it.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Raimundo protested in a lighthearted tone. “Master Fung said the same thing. Sooo, what?" he asked after a beat, offering her a smile. "We cool?”

Kimiko wanted so much to punch his arm, to elbow him or something, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate, considering he was injured. So, she did the next best thing.

She hesitated at first, but she sat on the edge of his bed and reached out to him, ignoring the strange, fluttering sensation in her stomach, and wrapped her arms around him, careful to avoid his injured back. She felt Raimundo go ramrod straight beneath her, but he relaxed almost instantly, returning her hug with a squeeze of his own.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” she answered, but then she pulled back to fix him with a stern look, her hands resting on his shoulders. “But don’t you ever do anything like that again.” She jammed a finger against his collar bone with every word to emphasize her point.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Raimundo said with a grin.

Kimiko knew that it was hot air. He’d do it, without hesitance, every single time. That was just the kind of person he was, no matter how much he tried to hide it. It was his finest quality, after all.

She nodded her head, quickly sliding off his bed before things could get anymore awkward. There was something about the look in his eye that made her feel weird. “Good. ’Cause next time, I’ll kick your butt myself if you do.”

Raimundo made a noise at that. “Whatever. Just go take care of your hand already.”

“Don’t push it, Rai,” Kimiko threatened him as she made her way to the medical supply cabinet for the first aid kit. “Oh, and Raimundo?”

“Yeah, Kim?”

She faced him fully, med kit clenched tight in her hands. She seemed to look everywhere but at him, hiding behind the kit before she took a deep breath, cheeks dusted a light pink. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Y’know, for jumping in and all.” She grit her teeth, embarrassed, before looking him square in the eye. “It might not mean that much to you, but what you did, well, it really means a lot. So, thanks.”

With that, she hurriedly left the infirmary for the dining hall. Had she stayed just a little bit longer, she'd have seen Raimundo bury his face in his knees, face gone red.