#that whole conversation had me sobbing audibly

[meowzerz-art]

healthy communication ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😕😕😕😕😕😕😕😕😕💔💔💔💔💔

[bunniesanddeer]

- [ ] SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! (This is a Alastor x fem! Cat! Reader)Okay so you know the scene where Alastor threatens Husk? The first part is the same thing it’s just that the reader saw the whole thing, unnoticed by neither Alastor or Husk. After it’s over, Alastor sees the reader(who totally has a crush on her), her looking right back at him with ears “pinned” to her head and a horrified look in her eyes. Since her and Husk are besties(slay💅🏻) furiously, she goes over to Husk to help him up. He assures her he’s fine and she walks away, absolutely furious with Al. He can’t help but feel a little guilty and remorseful, both feelings he’s not used to. Day after day of the reader ignoring him, he try’s to get her to forgive him but she’s a very stubborn feline. She isn’t easy to forgive after something like that. One day, after months, he finally gives up and hides in his room. He’s completely lost in thought and feels a bit upset and ashamed. He doesn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the reader is at the bar, talking with Husk. As much as he despises Alastor, he tries to encourage the reader to talk to him. She finally complies and goes to his hotel room . She hears barely audible sobs through the door but knocks anyway. At last, she is met face to face with the demon himself, failing to hide his tear stained face. She can’t help but feel a little forgiveness for him. Long story short, he opens up to her, she forgives him and happily ever after❤️

Hi, sorry this took so long. A lot has happened to me in the last two weeks. I don't think I hit everything in this ask, but I hope it is still good?

Reminder

Pairing: Alastor x Cat!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, that scene in Dad Beat Dad, sad Alastor angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2,003

There was something to be said about how easy it could be to forget who he was. Maybe it was his charisma, the way he so easily drew you in to him. Maybe it was the way he smiled at you, how he could seem so soft with you, when he was so cold and sharp with others. There was so much about him that you admired, too, and it made it all so easy to forget. He always smiled, and although there was something to be said about toxic positivity, it made you happy, made it easier to smile back. You adored the way he held himself, always so confident. It was something you strived to emulate. But sometimes, he reminded you of who he was; The Radio Demon. Sometimes that little hind-brain of yours lit up at the sight of him, and all the things you knew about him would come flooding back.

Alastor was meant to be feared. He had earned his power in Hell, and to do that he had done awful, terrifying things. It seemed you needed a reminder, because you had grown far too comfortable with him. 

You followed quietly after Husk. He had taken off after Alastor and the Morningstar’s just after Mimzy had shown up. You didn’t know much about her, but with the way your friend had looked at her, you knew she wasn’t good news. Wishing to know more, you had followed after, hoping to join whatever conversation Husk and Alastor started up.

You did not find what you had expected. Husk and Alastor seemed to be arguing, which wasn’t unusual, but the way Al responded was strange. He looked annoyed. Husk yelled at Alastor, and Alastor responded with a laugh, and then Husk said something that shocked you down to your core.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash,” Husk had whispered hoarsely. Someone owned Alastor’s soul? How? Who? What could have possibly happened to do such a thing?

Your tail swished roughly against the floor, and your ears perked forward to hear more of the conversation. Eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing, but you needed to know more. 

Alastor’s head swiveled around in a terrifying way. The hallway grew darker, and his form grew large. “Aha! What did you say?” Alastor asks rhetorically. 

A green chain wraps around Husk’s throat, and it makes your heart jump. Alastor was going to hurt him! Your body grows stiff, and you watch on in horror as Alastor grows to a gigantic height, filling the hallway. He stalks towards Husk, and he starts yelling. You can’t hear a word, though, over the pounding of your heart. Your ears pin flat against your head, and your tail tucks itself around one of your legs. 

The whole ordeal is done in just a moment, and Alastor is back to his normal size. Husk is shaking, quivering on the ground, and despite the risk, you can’t help but rush towards him.

“Husk!” Your soft hands wrap around his forearms, and you help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Your head swivels, and you keep your eyes locked on Alastor, who has stopped walking away. His brows are sharply downturned, and despite the smile still lingering on his face, he looks desperately confused. Your tail whips back and forth behind you, drawing his gaze. His brows furrow further, and he cocks his head. He calls your name, and you can only shake your head in response. 

Something sharp grows in your chest when you look back at Husk. He still looks terrified, something you’ve never seen. How could you forget yourself? How could you forget who Alastor is? The two of you were on separate planes entirely. Whatever were you thinking?

You take in a sharp breath, and continue checking over Husk. The other feline assures you he’s fine, but you know better. You sigh, and push him to head back downstairs. You ignore the prickling feeling of Alastor’s gaze on your back. You need to separate yourself from him. It was not worth the risk.

Alastor can’t begin to describe the way he had been feeling over the last several weeks. While the hotel had burst into action for Charlie’s trip, and everything that came of it, he had been dealing with something else entirely. The threat Heaven posed was nothing, not when your eyes held such disdain, such fear within their depths. It was all because of him, too. There was no one to blame but himself. 

Alastor hated the feelings that were swirling in his gut. He hated how weak they made him. He hated how much he wanted you by his side, again. There was something so wonderful and enticing about how little you cared about his station, and now it was gone. You were deeply aware of his power over others, and you had removed yourself from his side. 

He had to do those kinds of things, though! That is what bothered him most. He needed to put the souls he owned back in their place when they disobeyed, when they spoke against him. Husker was no different. He might have been one of Alastor’s favorites, but Husker only had so long of a leash to pull and tug, and he had cut it short, that day. Alastor couldn’t understand why you didn’t understand that.

His affection for you had long since weakened him. It was something that kept him awake when he rarely lied down to rest. It buzzed in his thoughts when he was meant to be focusing on anything else. And yet. There was something so intoxicating about being around you. You were warm, and your face sent flutters down his spine. He couldn’t fathom why you were different from all those before, but you were, and that was that. It was much too late to change it now, he would have to cope with all these changes in his afterlife. 

The way your ears pinned back, and your tail flicked back and forth whenever you saw him, hurt. He was used to Husker responding that way to his presence, but at least that cat-demon bothered to acknowledge him. You outright ignored him to the best of your ability. You barely looked at him, and you hadn't spoken to him in weeks. It had affected the dynamics within the hotel, something that Charlie had brought up to him.

Alastor could only respond, “I have no clue, my dear. I’m sure it will work itself out in time.” Alastor lied through his teeth, and tried not to let that angry pit in his belly from eating at him. It hurt, but he refused to admit anything out loud. He could live with this, and he could move on. Smile, smile, smile, and smile he did. Even at his own expense.

He passed by the bar, and there you were, chatting with Husker. You had a bright drink in your hand, and you were laughing. The sound was bliss for Alastor, as he had gone so long without the sweet sound. Husker was rolling his eyes, continuing to tell some story that Alastor couldn’t bother to focus on. He just watched the way you reacted, and his chest ached. Something must have alerted you to his presence, however, because you turned, your eyes just barely glancing over him, before you stiffened, and turned back around. All contentment seemed to leech from you, and Alastor’s entire body seized.

So it was like that, was it? This is what all the months you had spent together had come to? All his wasted feelings, for nothing. Alastor could feel his smile slipping, so he stalked off to his room. With a strange sound escaping from his throat, he resolved to rid himself of these horrid feelings. 

There would be no more weakness, not on Alastor’s part. What was any of it worth? What was a heart meant for, if not to be trod on? Hot, wet tears trail down his cheeks, sore at the effort of keeping up his smile. One of his hands tug at the thick locks of hair closest to his face. His ears flop back, and he lets himself go loose as he makes it to his room. He would not let it happen again.

Husk sighs, and it draws your anxious gaze to him. “I know this probably ain’t what yer wantin’ to hear, but you should probably talk to Alastor.” 

You frown. “Why would I do that? He hurt you, Husk, and he was threatening to do worse. I shouldn’t have been any form of anything with him, dude.” You sigh, and your eyes trace invisible patterns on the bar top. “I should have known better. It was a wake-up call, and I have heeded it.”

Husk grunts, and he sets down the glass he had been cleaning. “I know, but he’s been off for a while now, and I think he regrets it, even if he refuses to admit it. I was also pushing things, shouldn’t have done that. It’s how Hell is, and I made my bed with that fact, long ago.” Husk puts his hand on your shoulder, and you meet his eyes. His expression is serious. “You were happier around him, too. Don’t let this one thing stop you from that. I hate him, that’s true, but you’re a good friend. You also mellow him out, a lot. I think, if you do this right, we’d all be better for it.”

You let out a harsh breath, and glare at the end of your t ail that curls around your ankle. The thought of Alastor makes your heart pound, and you know it isn’t just fear. You wanted to let that feeling grow, but you were so afraid of all the things he could do, just because he wanted to. Was it worth the risk?

Husk seemed to know what you were thinking and just said, “You’ve got this, kid.”

With a huff, you pushed up from the stool, and hopped down. You could do this. You just needed to confront The Radio Demon. And make it out alive. And maybe confess your budding feelings. Who knows. 

There was a knock at his door. It made his head ache. Everything felt strange, but he managed to make it up from where he had been slumped against the wall, and get to the door. He pressed his head against it, and listened closely. 

“Alastor, can we talk?” He could hear your soft voice, and the slight waiver it had. His chest squeezed harshly, and he couldn’t help but swing the door wide open.

“Sweetheart!” His voice was harsh and gravelly, and his static surged at the sight of you. Oh, your sweet little cat ears twitched at every noise, and your little tail was curled around your ankles. Oh, you seemed so nervous? Whatever did he do? “You’ve come to talk to me?”

“Oh, Al…” You whispered, your face awash with pity. Alastor felt self-loathing and something heavy twist his gut. He brushed off his pants, trying to relieve himself of the feeling. “We should talk, but we should probably get you some water first. You look a mess.”

And then you were smiling at him. It was a small one, but it held so much light in it. Alastor felt some of that lightness fill him up, and he could only hope it stayed. 

One of your soft hands reached up towards his head, and he settled his cheek into it. Your thumb rubbed at his tear-stained face. 

“I’m sorry, cher,” Alastor mumbled. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but they bubbled up and out of him before he could stop them.

“I know. We’ll talk about it, don’t worry.” And those words calmed him. The two of you would figure this out. It would take time, but he was sure he’d have your affections again, even if something had to change.

Reminder that my Asks are open! It might take a minute to get to, but feel free! Also, the pinned post on my profile is my taglist. Please reply there, if you would like to be added.

Taglist: @girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastor-simp @thonethatflies620 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice

[bigswitchenergyy]

RWRB movie thoughts (SPOILER HEAVY!)

So, I watched it. Twice. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

First off, non-spoilers - I loved this movie. I loved the energy, I loved the humor, I loved the chemistry between all of the actors. Taylor and Nick in particular had phenomenal chemistry and I can't stop thinking about them and firstprince and how beautiful it all was. I miss the boys already. 😭 SPOILERS!!

I'm gonna get the (incredibly minor) gripes out of the way.

We got cornbread!! But we didn't get "cornbread knows my sins" which I was a little bummed about. But the beauty of the scene as a whole absolutely made up for it.

The lack of the emotional kiss after the fight really bugged me, because to me, that kiss is the breaking point for them both. That's the "gonna love this stubborn shithead forever" moment, and it's all of the tension and pain and heartbreak poured out into a desperate, hungry, incredibly passionate kiss. going right from "tell me to leave" to the V&A felt a little like mood whiplash, but the V&A scene is so good I can get past it pretty easily

I wish we could have had more of their emails, the phone call where Henry begins to open up about his family, and more pet names. Especially more baby, considering how much that one word affects Henry in the book.

I know why Matthew did it but fuck Miguel, I miss Rafael and Liam

WE NEEDED MORE PEZ, NORA, AND BEA

Now, for my favorite quotes/moments!!

"I'd break the sound barrier for you." when i tell you i fucking screamed into a pillow and sobbed

HISTORY HUH BEING SAID AT THE V&A, I LOVED IT SO MUCH, I SQUEALED AUDIBLY

THE CAKE SCENE, 10/10

Zahra and Amy are the absolute fucking best and were truly able to shine in a way I didn't expect, I'm so glad we got so many great scenes

"I will brexit your head from your body" I know it was in the trailer but it's SO FUCKING FUNNY

The texting scenes were done so well?? I loved hearing their voices saying the lines and I loved the way they portrayed the long distance conversations. The turkey scene in particular is fucking cinema

THE MOTHERFUCKING RED ROOM SCENE. NEED I SAY MORE.

THE SCENE RIGHT AFTER?? AND THEN THE ONE IN ALEX'S ROOM?? I'M FUCKING WEAK, MAN. THEIR CHEMISTRY IS OFF THE CHARTS

The closet scene was SO good. Watching Alex's entire perception of the man change in a matter of minutes is so well done, and Henry realizing that Alex's feelings about it all were completely valid & apologizing is so 10/10

jesus fuck, PARIS. OH MY GOD. The cafe scene, the one where they're taking a walk, and then their first time having sex. It's so beautiful and emotional and i just... I was breathless watching it. It's steamy but it's just beautiful and loving and the way alex and henry are just so enamored with each other absolutely destroyed me.

"You don't know what that's like." "I'm learning." SOBBING

the entire new year's eve sequence was wonderful. Henry's so happy when he's with Alex and Alex is just so happy he's there, and then that fucking SHOT?? The way they're just staring at each other across the crowded room?? C I N E M A

The first kiss was STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOOK and it was MAGICAL

Nora is a queen and deserved more screentime but I LOVE her scenes with Alex. I think having her not be his ex in this version is a nice change too

And, of course, the motherfucking STORMING OF KENSINGTON. The boys acted their asses off and Nick in particular broke my heart so many times over

The leak. The leaaaaak. fuck.

"Hello?" "Baby." "Alex??" when i tell you i cried so hard

the piano scene 10/10

THE SCENE WHERE THEY COME OUT TO THE CROWD. THE ENTIRE END TBH

CASEYYY!!!!!!

So, yeah. I loved this movie. I'm gonna be thinking about it for a long time, and I sincerely hope Matthew releases the extended cut & all of the deleted scenes and bloopers, because we NEED THEM.

I also hope that Matthew, Casey, Nick, and Taylor know how much we love this film and book. How thankful we are that these beautiful characters were not only written, but then able to come to life. I will forever be thankful for Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (yes, i'm using his book last name LMAO) and for their beautiful love.

[obwjam]

hmmmmm could you write a soft Jamie or Roy or Ted fic by any chance? bonus points if it's an especially skittish borrower being discovered by them

you’re so lucky that you asked this specific thing because i wrote a ted thing a while ago and was looking for an excuse to post it :) it just starts abruptly so please ignore that in favor of lots of soft ted

————————————————————————

“Don’t worry, Beard ain’t comin’ for at least another hour. I was up early, so I decided to just head on over to work. Just one of those mornings,” Ted chuckled. One of those mornings after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s okay,” Ted said softly, putting his hands up in mock surrender when you started to inch back. “I ain’t gonna hurt’cha. Just call me the BFG. Or Gulliver. He was a pretty nice guy to all those Lilliputians.”

You had absolute no clue what he was talking about.

“BFG. Big friendly giant? Roald Dahl?” Ted questioned, before remembering that the chances of you reading a novel was probably zero. “Right, right. Tiny person. You’re not a Lilliputian, are you?”

Nothing. Ted frowned. He was used to people not taking him seriously, but being scared of him? That was a first.

“I’m just… well, I’m a little confused,” Ted confessed, trying to keep the conversation going. “Believe it or not, you’re the first tiny person I’ve ever seen runnin’ across a desk. Or runnin’ anywhere, really.”

Ted’s ever-persistent smile faded when he took a moment to see just how terrified you were. You hadn’t moved since the moment he walked in, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to until he left.

If he left.

“D’you have a name, little guy?” Ted asked, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get an answer. “I’m Ted Lasso. Though you probably already know that, don’t you?”

Nothing.

“How did y’even get up on my desk, anyway? No offense, but I—”

Ted was nearly stunned silent in the middle of his sentence. As soon as he asked that, it triggered something inside you; the intense fear of being reprimanded, of being punished simply for existing, all came to a head. You broke down, sobbing into your shirt as your heartbeat grew faster and faster.

Ted shut his mouth and stared, eyes practically shaking at the sight before him. Suddenly realizing how intimidating he must look looming over you, he slowly lowered himself into his chair, his gaze not once leaving you.

“Woah, hey, c’mon now, it’s — it’s alright,” Ted said as he sat, his voice quivering slightly. In a way, he knew how you were feeling, and he was usually good at comforting people. But he was lacking in experience with four-inch-tall people. “Look, I know I must look real scary t’you right now, but I promise, I would never hurt you, and I ain’t mad. I’m just… I just wanna talk, if that’s alright.”

In your mind, you knew he was telling the truth. You had seen him here for months, and you supposed this was way better than being discovered by anyone else. But he was a human, and all humans were the same. Dangerous. Reckless. Curious.

“You can understand me, right?”

He said he wasn’t mad, but the more one-sided the conversation became, the more worried you were that he would snap. Slowly, you shook your head yes.

You were expecting some kind of audible hooray from Ted once you actually responded to him, but you were pleasantly surprised when his only reaction was a warm smile. You felt your eyes widen a bit. That smile felt… genuine.

“Can I ask how you got in here? In my office, I mean. Or the whole building, really.” Ted was cognizant to keep his sentences short. His rambling was clearly making you nervous.

You swallowed, realizing quickly that your only way out of this was with a conversation. You opened your mouth to respond, and all the words got caught in your throat. Nothing but a small whimper came out.

Ted furrowed his brow in concern. How on earth was he going to get a response out of you? Maybe it was best to just leave you alone… but then he would be thinking about you non-stop every day he walked into work, and that wasn’t going to fly.

“I… I live here.”

Ted tilted his head and tried hard to suppress a smile, but he couldn’t. Your voice was so damn cute.

“You live here? All this time, Rebecca could’ve been chargin’ rent,” he joked, mostly to himself. “Where is… here, exactly?”

You shrugged. “Here. There. Wherever is safe.” You were not about to give him more details than was absolutely necessary.

Ted nodded. “Here, there, and everywhere. I get it, you could probably burrow into anything. Gosh, you are just… so small…”

This is what you were afraid of. Ted was very, very quickly getting attached to you.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he stammered. He didn’t really intend to say that out loud. “That was inappropriate of me, wasn’t it? I’m sure you’re very aware of how small you are.” He groaned. “Dang it, I did it again.”

You didn’t mean to, but you sniffed a laugh. He was starting to sound as nervous as you were.

“I came in here to get some supplies,” you said, almost a whisper, but somehow Ted heard it.

He leaned in ever so slightly. “Supplies? You buildin’ somethin’?”

“Sort of…” you said, slowly turning your head around. Your hook was still there, dangling off the side of the desk with the paper clip stuck into the wood.

It didn’t take long for Ted’s eyes to follow your gaze. His expression brightened when he finally noticed, and he nearly reached across the desk to pluck it up before realizing that leaning over you was probably not the best idea.

“Can I see it?”

You looked up in surprise, and Ted gave a small nod as if to say it was safe for you to move. Carefully, you padded to the edge of the desk, yanked your hook up and gently placed it in front of you. You felt your breath hitch as Ted’s gigantic hand slowly descended, fingers pinching the paper clip like it was nothing to him.

He was speechless as he dangled it in front of his face, eyes moving rapidly as he tried to make sense of what he was holding. It was a tiny little hook made by a tiny little person. How did this thing actually work?

“…Wow,” was all Ted could say. “So you really swing around on this thing like some itty bitty Batman.”

You felt your face get hot. Were you blushing?

“I, uh. I need a new paper clip. That one’s old. ‘S why I’m on your desk. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Woah there, little buddy. You do not need to apologize to me, you hear? Gosh, that’s all you needed? You risked your life just so you could get one little measly paper clip? Jeeze Louise.” Ted leaned back, opened his drawer, snatched a paper clip out and plunked it on the desk in front of you. He didn’t miss the way you jumped at his movements. “If you need some post-it notes too, just tell me, I got hundreds of ‘em.”

“I…” you had no words. He barely questioned you and immediately jumped at the chance to help. What kind of giant did that?

“Go on, it’s alright,” Ted said gently, trying to coax you from the spot where you were frozen solid. “Take it. It’s yours.”

As soon as you picked up the paper clip, Ted’s heart practically melted. It was nearly as tall as you were. How could someone so small function in a world like this? It was then that he noticed just how ragged you were. Your clothes weren’t actually clothes — they were more like rags with limb-sized holes cut in them. They draped off your body like some regal gown, but Ted knew that you weren’t some kind of tiny royalty. You were frail.

“Y’know, I never had a chance to grab breakfast this morning,” Ted started, trying to gauge your reaction. You gave him nothing. “D’you — would you — I could take you with me to get somethin’, if you’d like. B-But you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to. You just — if I may, you really look like you could use somethin’ to… when was the last time you ate?”

You shrugged. “A few days ago, maybe.”

“A few days?! Well, that settles it. You’re comin’ with me.”

Almost instinctively, Ted placed his hand down on the table, dragging it back a bit once he saw how you shuddered at the movement. The top of his palm went halfway up your body, and he suddenly became nervous.

You took a few steps back, stumbling as your eyes darted from his palm up to his face and back down again. God, he was so big.

Ted flushed red. “I’m sorry, little guy, I didn’t mean it like that.” He huffed a laugh, and you were confused. “Gosh, some BFG I am. I’m not really helpin’ you, am I? I’m just scarin’ you.”

You sighed. Even watching him from afar, you couldn’t figure Ted out. You always waited for his facade to fade as soon as someone left the room; maybe a scowl, or mumbling something mean about them. But it never happened. Maybe… maybe he really was this nice. God damn it, were you actually feeling bad for him?

“I…” you started, pausing to see if Ted would hear you. He did. Of course. “I would… I would love to eat, actually.” Another pause. “Thank you.”

Ted felt his entire chest fill with warmth. He wasn’t really sure what was about to happen, but he knew one thing — he was going to keep you safe, no matter what. There was no way he could let you go now. He was determined.

“Hey, remember what I said?” Ted asked. You shook your head no. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you. And I meant it. Yeah?”

You shyly nodded, which immediately prompted Ted to smile. His eyes never left you as you gingerly climbed onto his palm, which was surprisingly still as you situated yourself.

Really, he could barely process what was happening. But he felt his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch when you made contact with him, your little tiny movements suddenly very sharp on his own hand. Boy, he thought, this is really taking having someone’s life in your hands to a whole new level.

“Are you good, little guy?” Ted finally remembered to ask.

A small nod. His heart fluttered.

“Right, I’ll keep you real close, alright? Make sure no one else sees you.”

You were waiting for that sinking feeling to hit, and while you were incredibly nervous, it never really happened. There was something about this giant… this… Ted… that you just knew was different. Call it instinct, delusion, whatever, but something inside of you felt safe.

Maybe this really was alright.

BONUS

“You really found one?” Beard asked incredulously. Frankly, he was shocked that Ted discovered a borrower before he did.

Ted nodded with an emphatic mmmhmm before an alarm bell went off in his head. “Say, how did you know that I was harborin’ a tiny person? I could have been hidin’ anything from you.”

Beard didn’t say a word, but he raised his eyebrows and curled his mouth in such a way that made Ted realize he probably didn’t want or need to know how Beard knew.

“You shoulda seen me,” Ted said lowly, trying to make sure his conversation didn’t get picked up by anyone else on the pitch. “Made a great BFG joke.”

“I thought the whole point of the BFG is that the giants eat people.”

“Hm.” Ted thought about that for a moment before his eyes went wide. Mouth agape, he turned to Beard, who gave a simple nod. “Oh, shoot.”

“That’s a pretty big mistake right there.”

“Ohhh,” Ted chuckled. “Ohh-ho-ho. That’s a good one, coach.”

“Thank you, coach.”

“You’re mighty welcome, coach.”

A pause.

“Can I meet them?”

“No, nope,” Ted replied immediately. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

Beard bobbed his head. “I figured.”

“Maybe someday,” Ted mused, thinking of how his tiny friend was probably enjoying some alone time in the makeshift Lego house he built for them. “Maybe someday.”

[primatechnosynthpop]

If You Push Them Too Hard, They're Going To Break

Part 1

It all started with Mel.

She ran up to them on the street one day grinning like they'd never seen before, wearing a multicoloured poofy dress that looked like it belonged to a princess in a fantasy story. The whole outfit was bedazzled with dozens of shiny pink hearts. The most prominent of these hearts was a gemstone on her breast, with little wings on it and frilly white ribbon surrounding it like a valentine. In one hand she carried a giant hammer like it weighed nothing. She showed up looking like that and had the audacity to ask with a coy giggle,

"So... do you notice anything different about me?"

"...Yeah," Bret said, confused and a bit unnerved as he looked her up and down. Her getup was a lot to take in. "You've got new clothes and a big hammer."

"Sure, there's that, but anything else?" She set the hammer down and fluffed up her hair, which was decorated with a cutesy ornament, all without taking her glimmering eyes and wolfish grin off of them for a second. "Do I seem more beautiful or anything? Like maybe you're suddenly seeing me in a whole new light, having feelings you never would have anticipated...?"

"No, not really," Bret said honestly.

"I see you in the new light of having a giant hammer," Jemaine put in. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's a bit odd."

The look of shock that flashed across Mel's face was actually jarring. She froze in place with her hands still playing with her hair, and after a second that seemed to stretch on for at least five, her breath audibly quickened and her eyes began flicking back and forth between them as if searching for something that wasn't there.

"B-but you've gotta feel something towards me now, right, guys?" she asked, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. "Something you never felt before like, say, uncontrollable maddening love?"

Without thinking better of it, Bret and Jemaine made faces of disgust and shook their heads at that.

"No, not at all."

"And the rule about us not dating married fans still stands, by the way, so..."

"...Oh..."

Mel's whole body had visibly deflated, and her voice along with it, as her sigh was quiet and resigned. The fairy tale dress dissolved off her in a dull shimmer, leaving her in her usual street clothes. She muttered a reluctant goodbye to them, turned around, and trudged back to the car where Doug was waiting for her. Bret and Jemaine just watched, not sure whether to be more dumbfounded by the magically disappearing clothes and hammer or by Mel voluntarily ending an interaction with them so quickly. They weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so when she gave up and left them alone they only stood there pondering the strangeness of it all for a few seconds before shrugging and carrying on their way.

That meant they didn't hear the conversation Mel had upon climbing into the car and slamming the door. Doug turned to her to offer a sympathetic comment, but it was one of many moments where her husband may as well not have existed-- no, her attention was on the furry white alien blinking innocently at her from the backseat.

"You tricked me," she snarled through the tears that were pressing against her eyes. "You said my wish would come true, and I wished for Jemaine and Bret to fall madly in love with me, and they haven't!"

She punctuated the accusation by giving the seatbelt a sharp tug down to fasten it. Kyubey just licked its paw, unbothered.

<You didn't specify full names when making your wish,> it said. <To make Jemaine Clemaine and Bret McClegnie fall in love with you would require more magical potential than you have. However, your wish was technically granted. Somewhere in the world, a man named Jemaine and a man named Bret have developed a sudden attraction towards you.>

"But that's not what I wanted!" Mel's voice broke into a choked sob as she dug her nails into the upholstery. "It should have been obvious that I was talking about my favourite band ever, not some random guys I don't even know."

"If she wanted someone else to substitute for Bret and Jemaine, she's already got me for that," Doug put in wryly, in a poorly timed attempt to lighten the mood a little. He couldn't even see Kyubey, and would have thought his wife had finally had a complete mental break having these one-sided conversations if it wasn't for the fact that she had magic powers now.

Pointedly ignoring her husband's remark, Mel slumped back in her seat and said in a quiet voice thick with tears, "And what do you mean I don't have enough potential to make them fall in love with me? They could love me... they probably already do deep down and just-- just can't admit it..."

She trailed off, feeble words giving into a sad little hiccup. She didn't even believe what she was saying. If she really thought her idols already felt that way about her, she wouldn't have needed to make a wish. But to think she had a chance, a real chance to get everything she wanted, only to have it ripped away from her... it made her want to curse Kyubey for tricking her, curse Bret and Jemaine for not loving her, curse Doug for not being them. She wanted to curse everyone.

"Ugh, I feel terrible," she sniffed. Her hands clenched at her sides, one of them around her soul gem. "Doug, can you drive me downtown? I sensed a witch there earlier. I need to fight to blow off some steam."

Kyubey watched idly from the backseat. It said nothing about the dark blotches dancing across Mel's soul gem until they blotted out the pink. After all, she hadn't asked.

*

The next time Flight of the Conchords had a gig, Mel wasn't in attendance, which meant nobody was in attendance. The gig after that was an unwilling charity stint (Murray made it sound like they were going to get paid) at a hospital cafeteria. Mel wasn't there either. Partway through that one, a teenager with bandaged hands got up, threw a music player at them with an enraged shout, and stormed out. The sharp corner of the music player happened to hit Bret right in the eye, and he was temporarily without depth perception for the rest of the performance.

Later that evening, while Bret pressed an icepack to his eye and Jemaine turned up the volume on the tv to drown out his whining about how much it hurt, their door rattled and Eugene came in holding a squirming white catlike creature under one arm.

"I'm just doing a little animal control," the landlord said. He held the cat-ish thing up by its scruff and waved it around in their direction. "I found this roaming around the halls. Is it either of yours? You know you're not supposed to have pets here."

"No, it's not ours," Jemaine told him. "We couldn't afford to look after a pet, Bret--" He said that rather pointedly, and Bret pouted because the goldfish thing was one time. "Besides, I'm allergic to cats."

"It's really cute, though," Bret said. He straightened up from his anguished lounging position and lowered the ice pack from his eye so he could get a better look at it. "I'm not sure it is a cat, even. It looks odd. I wonder what breed it is."

Eugene shrugged, not seeming like he cared much. "Well, I've asked around, and you're the first ones who've been able to see that I'm holding anything. So, even if you say it's not yours, I think it might be yours now." He swung him arm back like he was bowling and tossed the little animal toward them. It let him do so without resistance. "Be sure to have it out of your apartment by next week, or I'm gonna have to charge you for it. Oh, and don't forget, your rent's due on Thursday."

Jemaine flinched when their landlord threw the cat. He scrambled backward across the couch to its far corner, knocking the remote to the floor and rudely jostling Bret in the process. Bret glared at him. But Jemaine's reaction was (mostly) justified-- it was a severe allergy. If cat fur got within five feet of him, his face would start to swell up and his throat would constrict. At least that's what he always said would happen. He'd made sure not to go within five feet of a cat for as long as he could remember.

Lucky for him, the creature landed neatly on all fours a good distance from the couch. It stared up at them with a pair of gleaming red eyes that sent a shiver down Jemaine's spine. Cat allergy or not-- and looking at it up close, he had the inclination that Bret was right and this wasn't a cat at all-- this thing was just creepy. It felt like it was staring right at his soul.

Bret, meanwhile, practically radiated excitement and delight. He hopped off the couch, all eye pain forgotten, and held out his hands, making little kissy noises to lure the creature over. It complied, trotting daintily to his feet and rubbing up against his ankles. Jemaine hoisted himself precariously onto the back of the couch to keep as much space between himself and the animal as possible while Bret cooed at it and scratched it behind the ears.

"We're not keeping it, Bret." Jemaine's voice held a warning tone. "It probably belongs to someone else in the building anyway. Wouldn't be right to steal a creepy mutant cat from someone."

"Aw, I know, I know," Bret said in a voice that didn't sound like he knew at all. Jemaine wasn't convinced that Bret had considered a single ramification in his life. "I wonder who you belong to," he addressed the animal, which had now rolled over onto its back for belly rubs.

To his surprise and Jemaine's abject terror, the animal responded, not out loud but with telepathy. <Your landlord was mistaken. I'm known as Kyubey, and despite my appearance, I am not a domesticated animal.>

"Woah, you talk?" Bret asked. "That's amazing. I've never met a real animal that talked before. I've only seen them in cartoons. And there's parrots, but I've never met one in real life."

<I am not any animal native to planet earth.>

"What, you're from space?" Jemaine asked warily.

<That is correct.>

"Have you met David Bowie?" Bret asked.

<I have met many notable figures in human history. In fact, many of them owe their achievements to making contracts with me.> Now that the conversation was getting serious, Kyubey stopped rolling around and sat up to face Bret. Jemaine didn't move from the top of the couch and remained tense. <Although the two of you are not the demographic I normally approach, I have been branching out more lately, and you two seem like your lives could benefit from my assistance.>

"What's a mutant space cat going to help us out with?" Jemaine muttered. "I don't suppose you're going to offer us a record deal."

<It would be well within my power to grant you such a thing. However, it would be your decision to make the wish.>

"Wait, really?" Bret asked, incredulous. His head was already spinning from the fact that this adorable ball of fur was from space and had met Bowie, and now it was saying they could actually become famous? That sounded way too good to be true.

<Yes, really. Of course, the wish comes as part of a contract. You would be granted magical power in exchange for being tasked with fighting witches.>

At this point, Jemaine slid slowly off the back of the couch and to the floor, if only because staying up there was getting uncomfortable. He edged toward Kyubey, still tense, and cringing in anticipation of an allergic reaction that never came. At this point it was obvious they weren't dealing with a cat here. But what exactly they were dealing with, he was still unsure.

"Aren't witches the ones with magical powers?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "I think you're mixing it up. If we get magical powers, then we'd become witches. Why would witches fight other witches?"

The long tendrils hanging down from Kyubey's ears pricked with what might have been alarm, only to relax again as it gave an uncannily humanlike shake of its head. <You misunderstand. Witches are not magical humans, but rather monsters born from curses and despair. They feed on humans, and only those who've made contracts with me can defeat them.>

"Ah, is that so?" Jemaine muttered. He had a hard time wrapping his head around that. "I don't know that I want to be tasked with fighting witches. We're already quite busy with our band."

"We're not really," Bret interjected. Most of what Kyubey had just said had gone in one ear and out the other for him, because he was still caught up in the novelty of having a cute talking animal offering them a wish. "We've got loads of free time."

"Yes, but we like to spend that free time doing what we like," Jemaine shot back. "Like sitting down and watching tv and sleeping. And band practice."

"What kind of wishes did you say you could grant again?" Bret asked, pointedly ignoring his bandmate.

<Anything your heart desires.>

"Wow, did you hear that? Anything our heart desires, Jemaine."

"Yes, Bret, I heard. In my head and not my ears, which is where I like to hear things."

"So you could make us rich and famous, then."

<Of course.>

"Or get us girlfriends."

<That too.>

"Or a new cup so we don't have to keep using Jemaine's roster."

While Bret carried on animatedly chatting with Kyubey, Jemaine crossed his arms with a huff and turned away. Obviously Bret wasn't going to listen to reason here. If Bret wanted to sign away his free time to hunting witches in exchange for a wish, fine. (Not fine at all, actually, but it didn't look like he'd be able to stop him at this rate.) But Jemaine refused to be dragged into it.

*

"Okay, item one... Bret, stop fiddling with that and pay attention."

"Mm?" Blinking, Bret glanced up from the egg-shaped gem he was turning over in his hands. It was a warm reddish-brown hue, and had the emblem of an ambiguous animal head at the top. "Oh, sorry, Murray."

Murray sighed in exasperation. He opened his mouth looking like he was going to chide Bret only to break off into a gasp, eyes lighting up with recognition. "Oh! Bret, is that a soul gem?"

"Yeah, it is," he said with a smile, pleasantly surprised that their manager knew what a soul gem was. He held it up so Murray could get a better look at it. "'S pretty cool, huh?"

"How do you know what a soul gem is?" Jemaine asked, leaning back in his seat warily with his arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. "Have you met Kyubey before?"

Murray's eyes darted around the office as if to check if anyone was listening in, tongue flicking anxiously around his mouth. "Well, I haven't told you this before-- we're supposed to keep it a secret from ordinary humans, so I'm told--" He leaned in towards Bret, dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. Jemaine leaned forward so he could hear too. "But I've been a magical girl for a while now."

"You have?"

"Yes, for over a month!" Murray grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. Sure enough, now that they looked, there was a ring on his finger with a dull yellow-orange gem set into it. "It's been tricky balancing that on top of my other jobs, but it's important work."

"Is that why we've had even fewer gigs than usual?" Jemaine asked. "Because you've been too busy running around hunting witches to manage us properly?"

"I just said it's important work, Jemaine!" Murray told him sternly. "Stopping innocent people from being lured into labyrinths and devoured takes priority over managing a band."

"What did you wish for?" Bret asked, leaning forward with interest.

Murray leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Well, I can't tell you that, can I? You know what they say, if you tell someone your wish it won't come true."

Just then, Kyubey trotted in from seemingly nowhere and jumped up onto Murray's desk. Bret brightened at its unexpected presence. Jemaine shuddered and pushed his chair as far from the desk as he could get until his back was pressed against the wall.

<That superstition does not apply to the wishes I grant,> it said. <And in any case, your wish was already granted, so it wouldn't make any difference.>

"Oh. Well, then, I'll tell you," Murray said. "I wished to cure Toby's hip dysplasia. He's good as new now."

Neither Bret nor Jemaine had remembered Murray somberly telling them about his dog's medical condition a couple months ago. Bret nodded like he knew what he was talking about anyway, though the vacant look in his eyes gave away that he didn't. Jemaine didn't bother with the pretense and just sulked.

"You could've wished for us to get more gigs."

Murray frowned. "Not everything is about you, Jemaine. You know how important Toby is to me, and I couldn't afford to pay for his medical bills since Shelly cut me off from the joint account again."

"You could have wished to fix your marriage, maybe," Bret suggested helpfully.

"Yes, well, what's done is done," Murray said in the brisk clipped tone of someone who realized just that morning that he could have made a wish like that and was trying very hard not to let it haunt him. "How about you, Bret?" he asked to change the subject. "What did old Kyubey do for you, eh?"

As soon as he asked, Jemaine tilted his head back and buried his face in his hands to muffle a groan of pained exasperation. Every time he remembered what Bret had wished for a few days prior, he wanted to beat either his bandmate's head or his own into a wall.

"I wished that I could breathe in outer space," Bret said proudly, like it was a really clever thing he'd come up with.

Murray's brow crinkled. "Breathe in space? What for?"

"Well, you know, Kyubey mentioned how he'd met Bowie--" Bret angled his head toward the alien in question-- "And it got me thinking, if I ever want to go out there and meet him too, I'd better take precautions in case my helmet comes off."

"I told you David Bowie doesn't actually live in outer space," Jemaine grumbled through his hands. "And even if he did, how would we get up there? We're not astronauts. We haven't got a spaceship."

"Well, maybe that could be your wish," Bret suggested. "For us to have a spaceship."

"Absolutely not. I'm not going to make a contract, for one--"

"Aw, but you should."

"I'm not, and even if I did, it wouldn't be to help you out of a problem you created."

While the band bickered, Murray took a moment to look over his schedule. He'd started putting his magical girl notes on the same pages as his band notes to conserve paper, and while he didn't have any gigs or other good news lined up for the guys, he had sensed a few witches and familiars in the area lately. Maybe he could distract them from the lack of band-related prospects by turning this band meeting into more of a magical girl meeting.

"How about this, guys?" he piped up, tapping a pen against his schedule where he'd written some info on a familiar he'd spotted roaming about recently. "We go on a witch hunt together. That would be exciting, mm?"

"I don't--" Jemaine started to say, but Murray carried on without letting him get a word in.

"Tonight, then. It's settled. Bret, we can see how powerful you are, see if maybe I can give you some veteran tips from one magical girl to another--" Bret's brow furrowed at that, because a little over a month didn't sound like much of a veteran to him, and he didn't care for being called a magical girl anyway-- "And Jemaine, maybe you'll be inspired to make a contract too. Imagine that-- a novelty band made up entirely of magical girls! That would draw in a crowd, eh, guys?"

Bret screwed his lips to the side and contemplated the idea, doubtful. Jemaine didn't bother pointing out that most people didn't know magical girls existed. Or that the term "magical girls" usually applied to girls and not adult men. Sometimes when Murray got onto something you just had to go along with it.

*

The park was cold and empty at night. The steel frames of a children's slide and swingset gave off an eerie silver glow in the moonlight. A motion-activated streetlight flickered on as the three figures making their way down the cobblestone path stepped beneath its halo. There was a missing poster taped to the streetlight, but the light it cast was too dim to make out the face, and they weren't paying attention to it anyway. No, they were paying attention to the strange entity buzzing in circles high above their heads.

"I don't think this is a witch."

Murray paused with his soul gem raised halfway up in the air, about to transform. He cast a glare over his shoulder at Jemaine, who hung several paces back with his hands in his pockets. "Honestly, Jemaine, I've about had it with you and your negative attitude today."

"He's right, though," Bret pointed out. He was standing closer to Murray, also ready to transform-- or at least he had been, but now he was having second thoughts. "It's a familiar. They feel different when you sense them compared to witches."

"You said you were going to hunt a witch," Jemaine said. "This isn't a witch. It's not going to drop a grief seed."

"Right, well... I don't suppose you realize this, but there are plenty of other magical girls in this city, and they can be very territorial," Murray told them. He didn't say as much, but he'd found that out the hard way by being repeatedly attacked by some extremely aggressive teenage girls over the last month. "They're all after the same witches. But if we hunt familiars we can still save lives without getting wrapped up in any nasty competition."

"But I won't be able to purify my soul gem," Bret said, regarding the gem in question with a pout. Its glow was only ever-so-slightly diluted since all he'd done with his magic so far was transform and detransform a few times and, much to Jemaine's chagrin, fire off some practice shots with his weapon. "We need grief seeds for that. Kyubey explained it all the other day."

"Well, Bret, if you don't want to take part in this hunt then you can go stand and watch with Jemaine over there," Murray told him with a curt wave of his head. Then, dropping into a somewhat wobbly defensive stance: "Ah, here comes the familiar now!"

Sure enough, a dull buzzing in the air grew louder and a scribbly-looking black mass swooped towards them. It was about half the size of a person, with knives and forks protruding from within it with all the pointy bits sticking out and yet dripping an inky ichor as though it had been stabbed. It gave off an odour halfway between tobacco and an ambiguous alcohol.

Jemaine took a few extra steps back at its approach, eyes widening and eyebrows raising, with a flat but emphatic "woah." Bret, who had sensed the presence of witches and familiars throughout the city since contracting but hadn't felt like getting into fights with them, had a more subdued reaction but similarly ducked out of the way. He didn't want to waste his magic on a fight that he wouldn't get anything out of.

Murray tossed his soul gem in the air, and in a shower of sparkles and ribbons his magical girl outfit took shape around him. And yes, despite none of them being girls by any measure, anyone who saw the getup had to admit that magical girl was the only term for it. The top was mottled green and looked like an army uniform aside from the cute little ribbons in place of buttons, and he had a matching cap with some feathery decals sticking out of it. On his chest, his soul gem gleamed like a medal of honour. His skirt was black and businesslike without much frill, but it was still a skirt, which was a little startling to see their manager in. Finally, a pair of knee-high army boots tied off with ribbons wound themselves around his legs, and a pirate's cutlass manifested in his hand.

With the transformation complete, he wasted no time leaping forward and jabbing his blade at the attacking familiar. Steel ground against steel as his weapon slotted neatly between two tines of one of the forks. From the sidelines, Bret frowned in concern and Jemaine shook his head in disapproval. This already wasn't looking good. But Murray, who had refused to give up on the band he was managing despite never finding much success and rarely receiving any gratitude for his efforts, certainly wasn't going to give up now. He pulled his sword back and lunged again, this time aiming for the roiling shadows that lay between the cutlery.

To his elation, he just managed to nick the familiar. It screeched and flew into the air. He tried to follow its trajectory from there, but it moved too fast.

"Murray," Jemaine called, frame tense with more anxiety over their manager's wellbeing than he would have admitted to feeling. "Look out, it's--"

Before he could finish that sentence, the familiar slammed into Murray from behind. At least a half-dozen knives and forks drove into Murray's back, sending blood spurting out and staining his uniform. Jemaine cringed and leaned even further away despite already being well out of the splash zone. Bret gasped. Almost unconsciously he transformed in a burst of sparkles. A wooden bow decorated with the animal emblem from his soul gem shimmered into existence in his hand.

Murray staggered, vision swimming and tinged with red. He took a gasping breath and it got stuck in his throat. Blood dribbled out of his mouth when he coughed and ran down his chin, staining his beard. No doubt Bret and Jemaine thought he'd go into a hysterical panic or completely shut down. Maybe they were even expecting him to keel over right then and there. And yes, alright, the first few times something like this had happened that may have been exactly how he responded. But he was the senior magical girl here. He had to be professional and set a good example for the guys.

While Murray swayed on his feet and tried to convince himself that this wasn't really so bad, Bret notched an arrow and drew back the string on his bow. He squeezed one eye shut and pursed his lips in concentration. Jemaine watched him from the corner of his eye, breathing fast and not quite believing what he was seeing. How was Bret so calm about this? He'd only been a magical girl for a few days. This was his first actual fight. And the familiar was still hovering right behind Murray, ready to strike again. There was a very good chance Bret's arrow would miss the target altogether and impale their manager. Especially since, from what he'd seen so far, Bret wasn't a very good shot.

Bret's heart pounded in his ears. He barely managed to keep his breathing deep and mostly even, though he couldn't stop it from coming in and out quicker than usual. His fingers trembled against the arrow as he lined up the shot. He'd practiced with this weapon a few times in their flat, and it hadn't gone particularly well. But Murray needed his help. He swallowed hard, and though steeling his nerves would only do so much for his accuracy, his hands grew steadier as he pulled the string back as far as it could go. He glanced at Jemaine over his shoulder in a silent message: Stand back. The last thing he wanted was Jemaine getting in the way, especially if things went wrong.

Luckily, Jemaine didn't have to be told. By this point he was so far away from the streetlight that Murray was battling under that he was almost at a completely different streetlight several metres down the path. Satisfied that his friend was a safe distance away, Bret released the string.

The familiar launched itself into the sky as the arrow flew toward it, but the arrow was magic, so it arced upwards like a homing missile to follow the target. When it connected, a bright flash of light burst forth. The familiar screeched, a truly grating sound, and when the light cleared it looked like a chunk of it had been scooped out or dissolved. Hissing, it zeroed in on Bret. He fired another arrow, and while the familiar dodged taking another hit head-on, it did knock loose a couple of knives which skittered to the ground and then crumbled away. Bret probably could have fired off a third shot if he stood his ground, but he didn't want to risk it. He dove to the side and rolled out of the way. Jemaine, who was left standing directly in the enraged familiar's path, barked out an indignant exclamation at Bret's abandonment.

Meanwhile, Murray had managed to pull himself together. Funny thing about being a magical girl-- injuries didn't hurt as much. In fact, if you just turned part of your brain off they didn't hurt at all. He righted himself and charged towards the familiar with a battle cry that made it pause in midair before it could reach Jemaine. Jumping as high in the air as he could manage (which was much higher than it was before he made a contract) Murray clasped the scabbard of his blade with both hands and drove it into the familiar from above.

The familiar had put up a good fight for what it was, but it was only a familiar, after all, not a full witch. And Bret had already weakened it considerably. Its unstable form surged and crackled in the wake of Murray's precision strike, dribbling its drug-scented ichor onto the ground and making the pavement sizzle where it landed. Finally, it imploded. Cutlery fell in a shower, creating a clatter that drowned out the thud of Murray's boots landing him firmly on the ground.

Jemaine, who had been about three seconds away from getting eviscerated, toppled backwards onto the ground as his knees gave out. Adrenaline kicked in too late to do anything useful, leaving his heart pounding and chest heaving to catch his breath. His eyes, blown wide from stress, flickered over to the patch of grass where Bret had landed. Upon seeing his friend sitting up and picking leaves out of his hair with a pout, Jemaine relaxed. He wasn't hurt, but he was humiliated-- good on both accounts. Served him right.

"I could've gotten killed just now," he grumbled as he got to his feet. "It's a magical girl's job to protect ordinary humans, isn't it? Not jump out of the way and leave them to be run through with cutlery."

"Sorry, man," Bret said with a shrug. At the very least he actually sounded apologetic, but it wasn't enough to dispel Jemaine's annoyance or make him want to go on any more witch hunts with him anytime soon. "It was coming right at me. I got scared."

The soft woosh of magic from a few feet away caught their ears, and they turned in unison to see Murray holding his soul gem in cupped hands with his eyes shut and his face pinched in concentration. A warm orange glow surrounded him. When it faded, the strain of pain was gone from his face and his posture seemed more natural. The blood vanished from his clothes when he detransformed, but a bit remained matting his beard.

"Are you alright, Murray?" Bret asked cautiously.

"Oh, you boys don't need to worry about me," he replied cheerfully. "Healing magic is my specialty. I can fix myself up in the blink of an eye!"

Bret and Jemaine exchanged an apprehensive glance. Murray said that, but his whole body was still trembling. He must have been in shock. And the surface of his soul gem was tinted notably darker than it was when they headed out. For their first time on a witch hunt (not actually a witch hunt), this didn't bode well.

Part 2

[aissa-snapped]

The heathen and the christian part three

Word count : 2.7k words

Pairings: Ivar x OC

Summary: When Frigyth disobeyes Ivar's rules, consequences follow along, making her wish she had listened to him in the first place. 

Warnings: smut, rape, non-con

Requested by @youbloodymadgenius and others

Frigyth returned to Ivar`s chambers, sobbing uncontrollably, only thinking of what would follow next. She could only pray and hope that whatever Ivar decided to do to her, she could take it. Considering the state he was in at the current moment, - drunk from all that mead-, it meant he was not aware of his own actions. She has had enough negative experiences with drunken men in her hometown, instances in which she was almost raped.

Taking careful steps towards her tiny bed sat in the corner of the room, she took a seat, rocking back and forth in a stressful manner. It felt like centuries until she finally heard the door crack open, and a very wasted Ivar entering the room, with two other slaves helping him stand on his feet, preventing him from falling.

Standing up abruptly, she watched with careful eyes the way he was brought in by the servants, and eventually placed as softly as they could on the bed. Frigyth hoped he was knocked out, and maybe tomorrow he will have forgotten the whole situation, but it seemed this was not the case, for he waved a dismissive hand at the two fearful girls, in a ` leave now` motion.

Once the door was shut closed, there remained the two, in a deadly silence in which only his heavy breaths and her shaky ones were audible. Ivar, who had been recently sitting with his back on the bed, was now standing upright, staring at the girl shamelessly. With a low chuckle and a head shake, he rubbed his chin.

'' What you did there...'' He trailed off, creating a suspenseful moment. '' I warned you. Many times. I took your side in front of the other SERVANTS AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! YOU MADE A FOOL OUT OF ME IN FRONT OF THE OTHERS.'' Yelling with all his might, it felt as if he was sobering up quickly.

'' I- I don`t understand what I`ve done wrong. I was taken by surprise and you scared me.'' The poor girl explained herself, gesturing with shaky hands.

'' The other men who have slaves... They do whatever they want to them. If they so wish, they can fill them up right there in front of the others. ME?! I was just being nice and I suppose that was my mistake. I am tired now... But from tomorrow onwards... Oh you have no idea what I have prepared for you. '' He warned lowly, projecting fear upon the maiden.

'' TAKE THESE OFF NOW.'' He motioned to his leg braces, and in a heartbeat, Frigyth was crouching and untying the heavy pieces, placing them next to her master`s bed. Once he positioned himself nice and comfy in the bed, he fell asleep in a breath, whilst the red headed girl was struggling to stop her mind from overthinking and going over all possible scenarios of what would happen the next day.

The passing weeks have been as close to a real hell as possible. Ivar was no longer the somewhat sweet and protective boy he was the first days they`ve met, but rather became a horrific master. Frigyth had been tasked with helping around the kitchens, and the garden, so that much decency was still left inside him since he did not make her whore herself to random men -unlike Berwyn, who, as a punishment was kept as a sex slave for her master and his friends-.

Ivar did not in fact try anything with her anymore, keeping his distance from her. They would meet first thing in the morning and last night at night, when she would prepare a bath for him and remove his braces, though she never saw him naked because she was ordered to leave, which she was grateful for.

The distance the king has put between her and his slave seemed to have unlocked a new opportunity for his other brother to befriend the shy christian. Hvitserk has been taking slow steps towards approaching and eventually converse with her, without the girl backing away in shyness. Besides the language barrier, though Hvitserk did know a little of her language, they were inexplicably becoming closer and closer.

So much so that when Hvitserk was having one of his usual affairs with some servant, he came to the conclusion that he wished it was Frigyth instead. But he had to remain focused and remember that if he does one wrong move, he would lose all the progress he had made so far.

Though Ivar was not as watchful over his property as he was the first time he brought her here, that did not mean that Hvitserk`s advances went unnoticed by him. And if there was one thing the whole world knew about Ivar, especially his brothers, was that he NEVER shared.

Afraid Frigyth might end up liking Hvitserk more than him - not that she liked him now after he acted so cruel- he decided it was time to take action. So that very night when he was retiring to his chambers, with her behind him, once they were behind closed doors, he waited for her to do he routinely crouch down to free his legs from the braces, and similar to a hawk catching its prey between its sharp talons, he swiftly gripped her neck with one hand, taking her by surprise. She gasped for air, placing both her hands above his, in hopes she could get him to let go, but she stood no chance against his physical strength.

'' So. I see you have been getting close to my brother hmm?'' Eyes wide open, he was studying every inch of her face, as if ready to yell at her in case she would lie.

'' We are not cl-close. He is just n-nice to me.'' She whispered, being left breathless when he squeezed her throat and restricted the air flow.

'' Mhm. I see. How about this. You will ignore him and if I see you talking to him, I will hang you BOTH.'' He spat, eventually releasing her from his grip, and pushing her forcefully backwards, so that she ended up on her butt , supporting her weight on the palms.

Quickly standing up, she nodded at him obediently and went to bed as well.

The following days proved to be even more difficult. Ivar was watching over Frigyth every second, and whenever Hvitserk came by to chat with her, she tensed up, looking subtly at Ivar through her lashes making sure he was not marching over to them.

As for the older brother, he was confused as to what was going on. He coulnd`t get the Christian girl to talk, and even more, she would ignore him and turn her back towards him when he approached her. All this made him feel confused, sad and angry. He wanted answers.

So when in a seldom occasion he found the girl walking with a basket towards the stables, he jogged up to her and stopped her dead in her tracks.

'' Why aren`t you speaking to me anymore?'' He asked sadly, furrowing his eyebrows.

Sighing, she dropped her empty basket on the ground and crossed her arms. Looking around alarmingly, ensuring that the king was not around, she turned to look at Hvitserk for the first time in days.

'' Well... It`s... Ugh. I am scared to say it.'' She admitted nervously, fidgeting with her collar.

The young Viking placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them. The small gesture calmed her a tiny bit, but nonetheless she was unsure if she should tell him.

'' Say it. It is all right, I promise.''

'' I-... It`s I-Ivar.''

Hvitserk dropped his hands in a second, staring at her with a look of anger and she couldn`t tell if it was towards her or his brother, but she hoped for the latter.

'' Ivar told me to stop talking t-to you otherwise he will k-kill us.'' She sobbed softly, not able to contain her sadness at the restrictions she was obliged to obey.

It was as if a literal demon took possession of him and channeled its hell-like fury through the Viking as he turned red, squeezing his fists as hard as he could, but he stopped immediately once he saw how terrified the girl looked.

Gaping at him, she started shaking her head. '' I shouldn't have told you. Now we`ll both burn at the stake.'' And with that, she started weeping as if her fate has already been determined by the gods and there was no escape.

'' No no. Calm down please. PLEASE LISTEN.'' Gripping her forearms strongly, he stopped her from shaking and walking like a mad person, and assured her that he was not going to tell Ivar a thing.

'' How about this... We can`t talk when Ivar is around, but he can`t do anything to us if he doesn`t see us.'' And so Hvisterk, as desperate as he was, proposed to her that they should meet up after dark behind the sables, where it was guaranteed they were to be left alone and more importantly, hidden from Ivar`s possessive eyes.

Although it was risky, sneaking behind Ivar`s back, Frigyth had had about enough of her life as a slave as it was, and if she was going to spend her life here, she might have as well enjoyed it.

The little rendezvous turned into others and soon, they were meeting up almost every night. The first time it was really scary. Frigyth had to wait for Ivar to fall asleep so that she could escape the chambers, and it was not wasy. He was a light sleeper, so any slight movement awoke him. But she eventually made it and got used to this new routine.

'' You were so beautiful today. In that dress.'' Hvitserk complimented her, giving her a look of lust, which low-key made Frigyth feel a bit uneasy, but it was a normal occurrence to see him staring at her with those 'manly' looks.

'' Hvitserk, I wear the same dress everyday.'' She giggled softly, blushing at his compliment.

'' Of course but today ... It had something special about it. You.. Smelled different.'' He got close to her face, sniffling her hair and groaning afterwads. This action made the girl put some distance in between them, but Hvitserk clearly was not getting the message and with his hand, he started rubbing her back, tracing over places he`d been waiting weeks now to touch.

Trapping her with his strong muscular arms, he was now hovering over her, pushing her backwards into the soft grass, so that she was now laying on her back, powerless.

'' Hvitserk, what are you-'' He started kissing her neck, biting softly from place to place. Squirming and attempting to move his head away, her scrawny arms were no match for the warrior.

He was now trailing kisses down to her chest, which was only covered by the thin linen dress all slaves were wearing.

'' St- STOP'' But he was not listening. He kept going lower, and lower, in spite of the girl flailing her arms and legs hoping they would hit him and make him stop.

Hvitserk started simultaneously rubbing his clothed crotch against her still covered womanhood, grunting in pleasure.

Frigyth was mortified. As much as she wanted to make him stop, she was slowly realizing what was about to happen to her, and she froze on the spot. It felt as if she was laying on that grass lifeless, experiencing an out of body moment.

The Viking was now pulling her dress up, and with that left energy she had, she used the palm of her hand to move his head away from her, this resulting in angering him even more and with one strong hand, he gripped both her wrists pinning them down above her head.

Resuming his previous actions with only one free hand, he rode up her dress, now her private parts fully exposed to his hungry eyes. Frigyth had never felt more vulnerable or scared in her life.

Jerking when she felt contact with her sensitive skin, Hvitserk was rubbing her entrance up and down, licking his lips in excitement .

'' I have been waiting for this for so long. And finally...'' He trailed off happily.

Frigyth, with tears in her eyes, was looking at the stars, trying to distract herself from what was about to happen, though it was pretty difficult to ignore the sensation of something soft and wet touching her most intimate part of the body. Glancing down fearfully, she observed how the Viking was with his head between her thighs, toying with her using his tongue.

The feeling was inexplicable. Her body reacted to his actions, as if enjoying it, but her mind reminded her rationally that this was not a pleasurable experience.

'' Pl-please stop.'' She implored with a cracked voice, but Hvitserk had stopped paying attention to what she was saying a long time ago, for now he was taking out his penis, Jerking it quickly. Once it was well erected, he did not hesitate to enter her womanhood with a force that made her scream in pain.

It felt like nothing she had ever experienced. And for the next few minutes, he kept plunging into her over and over, ignoring her desperate cries of pain.

Frigyth returned to her chambers swiftly, stumbling upon anything, since her legs wouldn`t stop shaking. Everything hurt. Her body, her mind and her soul. She was slowly starting to comprehend what had happened, and the more she was remembering, the worse she was feeling.

Fearfully, she entered the room, stumbling upon the table, making a loud sound that had the tyrant king alert in seconds.

'' WHO`S THERE?!''

Jerking from his bed with his dagger at ready, he scanned the room for the intruder, only to find his little slave in the middle of the room, with red tear stained eyes, shaky legs, and her dress slightly coated in drops of blood.

His eyes went immediately from a bloody cruel warrior to a worried and protective stance.

'' What happened to you?'' He asked quickly, scanning her whole disheveled attire and already plotting someone's murder.

Frigyth tried speaking, but it felt as if her vocal cords were unable to reproduce the sounds. Her body was not cooperative and held her back from spilling his name.

Ivar was running out of patience, and now was starting to add the pieces together. Blood stains on the lower part of the dress, shaky body, and now that he was inspecting the girl closely he could see freshly formed bruises all over her neck, it all added up.

As the realization hit him, he knew it was about a WHO not a WHAT.

'' Who.did.this.to.you?'' He asked in a dangerously low voice, cracking her knuckles and neck, as if he was ready to attack the harasser right in the dead of the night.

Frigyth`s mind was twisted and warped. She didn`t know how Ivar would react had she told him it was Hvitserk. After all, he did forbid her from talking to him, and she disobeyed and this was her punishment from God, she was sure.

Ivar could tell the girl was too traumatized to speak at all, so for the sake of her, he dropped his dagger from his hand, and sighing, he motioned for the girl to come closer to him. She obliged, but fearfully so, the previous experience still fresh in her mind. Ivar made space for her, and wordlessly invited her to sleep next to him in bed.

Tucking herself under the heavy duvet, a sudden feeling of warmth engulfed her previously frozen and terrorized body, allowing her to relax a little. With her back towards Ivar, she moved the farthest she could go without falling on the floor, and curled her body, bringing her knees to her chest, eventually falling asleep like that.

Ivar however, was laying wide awake on his back, occasionally glancing at the girl and catching himself off guard by smiling at her when he heard her soft breaths, knowing she felt safe enough to fall asleep next to him. Not resisting the temptation, he moved his body closer to hers, just enough so that he could drop a protective arm around he torso, and rub her stomach softly.

He was going to find out eventually who touched her and when he did, he was ready to torture the man to death.

[robbinggoodfellows]

A fun little Nischa holiday fic based on that video I saw of Gus Halper singing Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

To Mischa the holiday season was a time of constant reminders from his adoptive parents that he was not wanted. Mischa's "parents" never gave him gifts, they barely gave him enough to eat or a warm bed to sleep in at night. And warmth meant a lot in Uranium, especially when the snow was blanketing the town and daring to invade Mischa's basement. So he spent the majority of this December in Noel's arms. With any moment the two had to themselves, Mischa would hold his boyfriend tighter than he felt humanly possible.

At first, this kind of affection which was far from unusual for Mischa was just sweet and endearing to Noel. He found it cute that Mischa wanted to lay directly on top of him, insisting he was Noel's blanket. But as the days leading up to Christmas crept up, Noel wondered why the two of them had not been at Mischa's house in weeks. It was normally their hangout spot because they had much more privacy than at Noel's house where his mother typically burst in to the room at the exact worst time. But as he was waiting for Mischa outside of his last class of the day before winter break, he tried to work up the courage to ask Mischa what was wrong.

Noel had the whole conversation scripted out when he realized Mischa would have normally been there by now. Noel looked around, making sure he was the only one within earshot before calling out "Mischa? Love, where are you?" His answer came in the form of sweet piano music from the choir room.

"Misch?" Noel was standing in the doorway of the room, smiling bigger than he normally did as Mischa stopped playing and looked up. "Hey." Mischa responded, his voice was adorably happy as usual, but a bit of pain found its way into his smile. "Chestnuts, huh?" Noel asked, sitting down on the piano bench next to Mischa and kissing his forehead. "Yeah, I fucked it up a bit though" Mischa laughed, and then he sighed and looked down at the keys. Noel wrapped an arm around Mischa's side, guiding Mischas right hand to the keys. He did the same with his other hand, lacing their fingers together and helping Mischa play the notes slowly.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." Noel started to sing, he waited to Mischa to continue.

"Jack Frost nipping at your nose" Mischa sang at a barely audible whisper, he was too focused on the piano.

"Yuletide carols being sung by a choir" Noel continued, "and folks dressed up like Eskimos"

Noel let go of Mischa's hands and Mischa barely noticed, he was staring so intensely at the sheet music in front of him.

"Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe," When Noel sang the word mistletoe, he paused to kiss Mischa's cheek,

"Help to make the season bright." Mischa's hand slipped and he accidentally played the wrong note. "Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. His hands were trembling and when Noel looked closer, he noticed Mischa's eyes watering. "Don't cry my darling, I'm not mad you messed up if that's what you're worried about." Noel reassured, kissing the top of Mischa's head. Mischa shook his head and rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. "Is not you, my divine poet." Mischa mumbled. Noel thought maybe this was part of why Mischa was avoiding his house.

"Are your parents being worse to you now that it's the holidays?" Noel asked and that's when Mischa broke down. He hugged Noel so tight, face pressed into his lovers shoulder, sobbing. And Noel rubbed his back and reached his free hand up to wipe the tears from Mischa's pink cheeks.

"They say money is tight." Mischa explains, once he's calmed down a bit, "They said they want to have money to buy presents for the people they love and that spending money on a son they did not wish for was useless. So the meals got smaller and when I asked for a blanket they decided to lock me out of my room for whole week because I was 'ungrateful'" Mischa looked at Noel, who was frowning, Mischa cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. "Do not be sad, love. You did not cause problems."

"I know I didn't make your parents shitheads but it still upsets me" Noel responded. "The holidays are stressful enough with all the socializing involved, I can't imagine how hard it must be for you." He added. Mischa just looked at the floor for a few seconds. "Do you think I can stay with you through holidays?" Mischa asked, to which Noel pursed his lips and nodded. "Can we go to my house first so I can get some clothes and maybe grab my backup binder just in case?" Was Mischa's next question. "We can do anything you want, love." Noel whispered.

"Remember Ocean wants us to do something with her for Hanukah so if you can find your mothers latke recipe you always talk about you should bring it!" Noel said cheerfully as Mischa broke the sliding glass door of his basement residence with a rock in order to get in. And if his parents decided not to fix the door, Mischa could make multiple cases for child endangerment from them.

Mischa and Noel went home to Noel's house, which was the only home Mischa would know in Uranium, and the two spent their night cuddled in Noels bed watching Elf. This was Mischas fist normal holiday season. He was so in love.

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (2)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: The morning after isn’t what either of them would expect, but after Reader pushes Armin away… she asks him to come right back

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Implied Smut

Armin couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to lay conscious in your presence forever. So, for a while, he laid there, savoring the feeling of your warm body cuddled up next to him. He would smile to himself whenever you shifted around a little in your sleep just to nuzzle up closer to him, to toss and turn to lay your head on his chest.

He never wanted the morning to come.

He knew the moment that you wake you’d be asking questions. You’d be asking questions or you’d know exactly what happened and you’d kick him out of your bed. You’d be startled and confused and he’d have to explain to you that you were drunk and asked him to stay with you. But then you’d ask why you asked him to stay, and he’d need to explain to you that, while you were drunk, you went on a series of confessions and admissions.

When the sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, and your head was nestled into his shoulder, Armin finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

He didn’t dream. He didn’t get the chance to sleep long enough so his brain could enter that deep state of rest that would even allow him to. He only had feelings. Feelings of contentment, euphoria, nostalgia all washed over him after he closed his eyes.

He’s so in love. He’s in love with you. His heart aches every minute of the day for you, and for this brief passing moment that he has you in his arms, he’s going to pretend that you’re his. He’s going to wish on the morning sun that after this mess passes over that he’ll still have you, and he doesn’t even care if it’s as a friend. Because if Armin can still be the one you cry to at night, he would gladly be your friend over your lover.

He was so grateful as he slept, grateful that whenever he would get that glimpse of consciousness as he turned in the bed that he could still feel your body up against him. He would smile at the little sighs that would leave your lips as you stretched a little in your sleep or when you grabbed ahold of his shirt to anchor you closer.

But Armin wasn’t grateful when you woke.

You had found yourself with your right leg swung over his waist as he lays on his back, your right arm wrapping itself around his neck, and your face nestled into the crook under his jaw. You were laying on top of a chest you didn’t know who it belonged to.

You laid there for a moment, with your eyes wide and staring into the pale flushed skin of his neck as you so desperately try and recall who is in your bed and why they’re there. You were frozen… like you were scared to see who it was.

Finally, you grew the courage to lift your head slightly to peek at their face.

It was Armin. Armin.

Your best friend Armin, that you’ve been in love with for years on end was beneath you in your bed in a position that was far too intimate for you to consider that he had just stayed the night as a friend.

His lips were slightly parted as he breathed, his pretty eyelashes resting against his cheeks that were flushed a cute little shade of pink. His hair was all ruffled and messed, pushed out of his eyes so you could see his entire face. 

You weren’t disgusted by him being in your bed… my goodness, it was far from that. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest at the revelation and all of a sudden your body was growing hot and the sheets that remained draped over you were suffocating. 

At a second realization of ‘Oh my god, Armin’s in my bed’, you jerk your entire body away from him, scramble out of the bed and stumble to the floor just as he shoots upright in his wake. Your eyes were completely blown wide, your lips were pressed into a tight line and Armin could see your arms shaking at your sides. You looked mortified.

Armin lays with his arms behind him, resting on the heels of his hand as he looks to you with an equally incredulous expression.

“What — what are you doing in my bed?” You ask, voice just above a whisper. You’re too startled to speak any louder.

“You asked me to stay,” Armin says quickly, remaining still like he’s afraid you’ll be startled by any movement.

You take your eyes off him for a moment to scan them across the ground as you think over what could have possibly happened. They flit from side to side, jerking in their sockets as you look over the hardwood floor.

“Did — did we…?” You begin, your chest beginning to visibly heave as you suck in deep breaths. 

You don’t know whether you want him to answer that question with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. But some sick twisted part of you was aroused by the possibility that the answer could be ‘yes’.

“No! No — you — you were drunk, I didn’t — we didn’t.” He stammers, pulling the sheets off of him and cautiously getting off the bed.

As horrible as it sounds, Armin was relieved to see that you’d forgotten everything that happened. Although he would have to work to pull that confession out of you again, it was much better than you avoiding him out of embarrassment and regret.

But as you think over what he’s said to you in regards to the night’s events, it slowly comes back to you. It’s all blurry, and for a moment you think you could be mistaking it for a dream, but you can make out the brief image of him in your doorway, then between your legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, and then on top of you on your bed.

And then you remember the conversation that had gone along with it.

“I… I asked you to stay…” You murmur to yourself, bringing your head back up to him as he finally stands on the other side of the bed, “Oh my god.”

You bring one arm around your waist and one clasps over your mouth, and for a moment, Armin’s scared you’re going to be sick. But between your fingers, he can hear you whisper a series of expletives over and over.

“Fuck, fuck — you need to go. Fuck! Armin, I’m sorry.” You exclaim, voice wavering as you take your hand from your mouth to point at your bedroom door.

Armin’s heart sinks into his stomach as he realizes that you have remembered every last thing you’d said to him. Maybe he’s the one who’s going to be sick because the terrified and regretful look on your face as his stomach churning in all the wrong ways.

“Out! Now! Oh my God!” You shout, enunciating with another point to the door. Your voice begins to tremble and��

God, please don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

Armin shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes on you as he blindly crosses your room to get to your door. He swallows hard before pausing once he gets to the door.

“y/n —”

“Get out!” You cover your eyes with your spare hand as you feel tears beginning to prick your vision.

You’ve cried in front of Armin before, both happy and sad cries. But you’ve never cried because of him, or something you’ve done to him; and never out of frustration in front of him. And you didn’t want to start now.

Armin flinches at your volume and sheepishly exits your room. You follow him, but only to close the door behind him. You swear you could hear him gasp as it slams.

It hurts your heart to see him cowering away from you, and you add that to the things that cause the tears to finally flow over. Not only did you completely humiliate yourself in front of him last night, but you admit something to him you promised yourself you’d never admit… and on top of that, you had just yelled at him.

Fuck, you yelled at him. He didn’t deserve that.

He came over to your house in the middle of the night, worried about your wellbeing because you didn’t have the nerve to tell him you were just drunk. He babied you and cared for you while you were in his way the whole time, and even though it’s the bare minimum, he didn’t have sex with you even though you begged him to.

He was too good, he didn’t deserve that.

You rest your back to the door, sliding down it until your butt hits the floor as your breathing gets choked up and you threaten to audibly sob. You let out a noise of frustration as you cross your arms over your knees and shove your face into the crook of your right elbow.

You can hear your front door shut as he leaves and it only causes you to let out another shaky groan.

The energy towards crying and groaning does no help to the painful pressure that’s already building in your head. You can feel it ache behind your eyes, throbbing along with your heartbeat and sending jolts of sharp pain through your skull when you blink.

You felt disgusting. You were covered in sweat and tears and your fingers and lips were still sticky with remnants of alcohol. You could still taste it on your tongue; the food and the alcohol. But the medicinal taste of the vodka strongly outweighs the warming remains of the melted butter.

It’s like it was telling you that your mistakes outweighed Armin’s kindness.

You didn’t exactly know why you were crying, you only knew that it came from frustration. It was all just churning around in a pot of distress. It was a vile potion of embarrassment, regret, shame, and humiliation that was being force-fed to you as you sat there on the floor.

Even though you heard Armin’s own confession, you still were overwhelmed with regret. His words were still a little blurry, you were still trying to get a grasp on the weight of them.

I’ve always wanted you too.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of it. You were satisfied with the friendship between the two of you, you never wanted it to change. It was platonic, emotionally intimate at times, but it was platonic. You were twin flames, and you didn’t want your internal desire to rip that away from you.

Being friends, best friends, with Armin was a healthy relationship. You could handle the occasional jealousy and lack of physical intimacy if it saved your friendship. You liked it that way. And now that the barriers were broken, and you had forced Armin to leave, you were terrified of losing him at the cost.

Keeping quiet about your romantic love for him was so easy when you had him in the palm of your hand and knew that he would never leave you, especially since you now know that he shared that feeling back. You both were content with the relationship you had. You both knew that neither of you was going anywhere.

It’s not that you planned to never tell him, you knew that you would eventually. But you were planning for years in the future, or maybe you were hoping to grow out of it. You would be able to sit down with him and bring it on easy, give yourself a choice in how you tell him.

But the premature and impulsive reveal of your truth had startled you and you pushed him away in the process.

So, in a way, you didn’t necessarily regret telling him… it was the way you did it.

And you weren’t the only one freaking out about the ways of your confession. Armin was an absolute mess.

In your mind, you were worried that he was taking your words as the truth, but Armin was doing the exact opposite. His thoughts were flying around like hummingbirds, wings flapping at hundreds of beats a minute. He was stuck between hitting the steering wheel out of frustration or just breaking down crying in his car.

Because in Armin’s head, you remembered exactly what you said and you had caught yourself in a lie. You had recognized that it was the alcohol talking and you didn’t mean a single thing you said; you only said it because you were lonely and needy. 

And then, you had also recalled the exact words he had said to you in response. The words that were full of honesty. You had remembered the way he said it and the way he had looked at you, and you had been disgusted by it.

In your drunken lies, he had revealed his truth.

And you were regretful of your alcohol-fueled words because they led him to speak on his true desire.

Now, in his head, you were repulsed by him.

He hits the steering wheel hard, hard enough so that he’s gripping his fist with his other hand and gritting his teeth at the pain that shoots through his arm afterward. And then those tears swell in his eyes, stinging them and blurring his vision as he tries to blink them away.

He’s sucking in breaths through his teeth as he finally pulls out of your complex lot. He wipes at his eyes as he drives home as if he believes he’s not actually crying if the tears don’t fall down his cheeks.

You both were embarrassed; at what you did and what you’re doing. Both of you sniffling pathetically as you keep replaying this morning in your heads. Both of you hating yourselves; you for yelling at Armin, and Armin for what he thinks your yelling was for.

You sat on the floor for a while, eventually bringing your legs away from your chest to cross them under each other. You still sat with your head in your hands and your elbows resting on your knees as you steady your breathing before trying to continue with your day.

You wipe at your face in hopes to push the tears away, but you only spread your flaking mascara around and mix it with the sweat and oil that’s accumulated on your face. It was a gross feeling, and it was the thing that finally convinced you to get up.

Water joined your tears in wetting your face as you splash it on from the tap of your bathroom sink. You scrub a little too hard after you rub your face wash in, almost scratching at your skin to get last night’s both physical and mental remnants off your face and out of your head. The water refreshes your skin as you do a final splash to get the suds off, but it does no help to your headache. It only throbs in your head harder from leaning over the sink.

As you lift your head from spitting toothpaste into the drain, another wave of throbbing pain pulses behind your eyes. And as you stare into the mirror, you decide to prioritize getting pain medicine before continuing to refresh yourself. The cup Armin had got for you last night was still sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, and as you pick it up you let out an audible, melancholic sigh. You watch the remainder of the water swish around at the bottom of the cup as you make your way to the kitchen.

You find the pain medicine already sitting on the counter. You bite at the inside of your cheek upon the realization that he most likely placed it there last night insight of the morning. 

You hate him, hate him for the way he cares for you and the way he’s so goddamn selfless. Everything about him had your heart twisting in on itself and chest tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

That only started a few years ago, junior year of high school. You still vividly remember looking into his deep blue eyes, getting lost in their ocean as you hold his sweet face in your hands. It was after your high school had sent out emails regarding the college admission process. Both of you were unsettled with the idea of leaving.

Armin promised you, over and over, that he’d call and visit and drive to however far you go whenever you need it. And then you had grabbed his face in your hands and said to him, ‘now, don’t go replacing me’. That made him giggle a little, his cheeks heating up under your palms before he said

‘I wouldn’t dare’

That was it for you. And after he had gone home you had sat on your bed… just sitting there, wondering why your heart was feeling the way it did.

It’s been like that since. Every last time you saw him it made your whole soul ache. You fell in love with him; his voice, his touch, his mind. You were absolutely drowning in his ocean and he was holding your head underwater, but all this time you were doing the same to him.

You didn’t make breakfast. The state of the kitchen from your drunken antics was a turn-off, and the alcohol that was still swimming around in your stomach had you feeling a little too nauseous for food just yet.

Deciding to clean up the kitchen was probably the safest option for you right now. You were debating between doing as so, or returning to bed and sleeping the day away. But since Armin still lingered within your sheets, kitchen chores were decided on as you already began to shuffle away measuring spoons to their respective drawers.

As you cleaned, you allowed yourself to think forward, accepting the situation and moving on to figuring out how to deal with it. You haven’t checked your phone to see if Armin had messaged you, but you bet your chances that he hasn’t. You probably scared him, for God’s sake.

The guilt and denial were still simmering as the acceptance was poured into the pot. You knew you needed to apologize for a multitude of things that have occurred within the past twelve-ish hours, starting with the fact that you called him in the middle of the night in the first place. Armin already knows you’re sorry, he can read you like a book, but you need to say it to him. You need to call him or something.

You were at a crossroads once more; did you allow the tension to settle a little while longer, or do you apologize as soon as possible? You had to apologize before he did, because you know damn well he will eventually, even though this situation that wasn’t his fault.

When the bowl with the dry baking goods clashes with the counter and clatters to the floor, spilling its contents all around your feet, you get your answer for you. In an overflow of emotions and frustrated curses, you leave the mess on the floor and blindly search through the house for your phone. When it’s found, you call him again, sniffling and letting yourself cry in defeat.

Armin got your call not even an hour after he had arrived home. He’d ignored his grandparents as they welcomed him home, even though he knew he would regret it later, and dragged himself straight up the stairs to his bedroom to just take a seat on the edge of his bed. He had his head in his hands, heels of his palms pressing into his temples.

And he just sat. Armin sat with his teeth piercing his bottom lip and his mind telling him that he’s never going to be able to be with you the way he was before.

He looked at his phone for a few moments, watching it buzz, face-up on his nightstand. It took him a few moments to register that it was you calling him and not a spam number.

He couldn’t stop himself from picking up.

‘Armin? Armin, I’m sorry — I’m sorry for yelling, just please — please come back,’

It was safe to assume that you were crying. He could hear your hiccuping and sniffling through the phone. All sort of self-respect he had gone out the door once he heard your distress. As much as you hated him for being so kind, he hated you for having him wrapped around your finger.

“What happened?” He asks.

‘I — I need to talk to you and I spilled — spilled shit all over the kitchen. I’m just so fucking — God, Armin I’m sorry!’

The lack of communication was truly hindering both of you severely. Both of your executions were fucked and both of your receptions were equally so because of poor wording. Now, Armin didn’t know what you were mad at and you didn’t know if he was upset in return.

“Can I come help?” He says, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible.

‘Please,’ You beg, and he can still you rustling around on the other end.

Armin relaxes, but only a little, because at least he knew you weren’t mad at him. Or maybe you were, but your own guilt was outweighing it. He had a feeling you were reflecting your self-frustration onto him, he always has a feeling. He knows you too well not to.

It was almost funny how you greet him at the door you had just recently slammed in his face. You had tears running down your cheeks and you were sniffling and coughing as you tried to sputter out a string of explanations. For a moment, Armin could only stand there and watch; watch you speak nonsense while gesturing with your hands.

After a minute or so, Armin realizes that you’ve stopped. He couldn’t make out a single thing you had said, only getting an ear of something that sounded like an apology. But no matter what you had said to him, he outstretches his arms to pull your shaking body against him. And as he holds you close, as your arms wrap around his torso, you can’t stop another wave of tears that drip down your cheeks.

Armin just holds you, like he did last night when he was in your bed. Your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling into the crook of his jaw, and hands grabbing at the fabric at the back of his tee-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to — mean to scare you or — or anything,”

His attempt to comfort you only crumbles you down more because he didn’t need to apologize, he doesn’t have to apologize.

“No, no, no Armin,” You stutter, pushing at his chest to distance yourself enough to look at his face. He lets his hands fall to your waist, keeping a tight enough grip on you to not let you escape. You look up to him for a moment before looking down to his chest, hitting against it softly out of frustration, “Don't — don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize,”

“I want to,” He tilts his head down slightly.

“Don’t! Please. This — this is my fault. I never — I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to see you last night. I wanted to see you because I love you. I love you, like, more than I should, and I didn’t mean to tell you last night. I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry,” You grab at his shirt again, tugging on it and stretching it out.

“y/n —” He begins.

“And I scared myself because — because I didn’t mean to say it then and — and I didn’t think you were going to say it back. I just — I don’t know,” You take in a shaky exhale before letting it out.

Armin feels like he can breathe again. You were sincere last night, you were telling the truth, and you weren’t disgusted with him. Armin could breathe again because he knew the feeling was mutual.

You let yourself bring your cheek back to his chest, bending your elbows to bring yourself close to him. Armin lets his arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him again to hopefully convey that ‘this is okay’

“I embarrassed myself… and I yelled at you because of it and — and you don’t deserve that.” You mumble a little softer, into the soft skin of his neck.

You can feel his chest shift around beneath your cheek as he breathes, and you can hear his heart beating quickly but steadily under your ear. You don’t want to leave him this time, you don’t want to jerk away from his touch. But you’re also scared of what will happen when you do have to pull away from him.

So you let yourself stay like this for a while, and Armin doesn’t protest. He continues to caress the skin of your back through that skimpy tanktop you’re still wearing and rests his cheek against the top of your head. He could stay like this forever, the same way he could have when he was in your bed last night.

“I meant what I said,” Armin says, stilling his hands until only his thumb gently circles over your shirt, “That I’ve always… wanted you — and loved you,”

With your body still pressed against him you say, “All this time… it — it was always you. I just didn’t know how to say it and I didn’t want to scare you away,”

“You could never,”

“And I was worried about what would happen after I told you. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same way. I couldn’t lose this.” Your voice has shrunk down to an almost whisper, and you’ve shut your eye and let yourself sink deeper into his skin.

“God, y/n,” Armin can’t stop the breathy laugh that leaves his lips, “You — you have no idea,” He pushes on your shoulders gently to look at your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You look up to him, a little confused and concerned look on your face.

“I’m not. I just — you have no fucking idea how — how crazy I am for you,” Armin grabs ahold of your face hard enough so your cheeks get smushed slightly beneath his palms. Your own hands come up to his forearms, just grazing them.

“I don’t know how you didn’t see it,” He whispers, looking into your wide eyes with admiration.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you hope that Armin can feel your cheeks heat up beneath his hands. He was so close, he was right there, he was looking down to you with his nose an inch away from yours.

“Do you — do you remember what I said last night?” You breathe, leaning forward ever so slightly.

God, how could he forget?

“Which… which part?” Armin could barely think. You were rising on your toes, your breath fanning over his lips. He could feel your body trembling as you brought yourself closer to him.

“When I said that I want you,” You mumble, looking to his lips for a brief moment. Armin catches the flit of your eyes and he can feel his stomach twist, “that I need you,”

“Yeah,” Armin can’t stop his voice from shaking, “What — what do you need from me?”

And he knows the answer, he knows the answer, he just needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear your sweet voice speak words so lewd that he’ll feel like his knees have turned to jelly. 

“I want you to fuck me, just like you promised. I’m sober this time, I slept it off.” Your breathing is so shaky, your voice is all strained to the point where it could pass for a whimper.

Armin can feel your words flow straight south, swimming below his navel and hardening his cock. He looks over you, over your face and your body that’s still exposed by your revealing clothes. He wants to tear them off.

“We can talk more later. I need you, so bad.” You bring your hands to his chest again, taking the stretched fabric in your fingers and tugging him closer.

“Yeah?” Armin nods in confirmation, he would tease you if he had the courage to.

“Yeah,” You nod, biting down on your bottom lip. You rise on your toes again, bringing your body flush against his. You can feel his cock hard in his sweats against your stomach, can feel his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Can — can I have you, please.” You slide one hand down his chest, shivering at the way the lean muscles in his abdomen divet under your fingertips. When you reach his waistband, you stop, toying with the strings with your right hand.

Armin answers you by grabbing ahold of the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his. They’re soft and warm, and they make your insides go all fuzzy and you practically whimper at the sensation. Your legs were already shaking due to the close proximity but now you’re deathly afraid of your knees buckling.

He felt so right up against you, with his hands holding you close and his tongue licking at the seam of your lips. He had you melting so quickly that you cannot believe you forced yourself to wait this long to tell him.

Even though your body was all tense, something inside you relaxed. Armin was here with you, he wasn’t leaving.

[lebenspurpur]

Can i request a one-shot of otis driftwood jealous railing the reader in the back of his truck after seeing them check out some one else briefly?

Pairing: Otis Driftwood x reader with a vulva

Summary: Otis Driftwood jealously railing the reader in the back of his truck after seeing them check out someone else briefly.

Warnings: smut, the reader has a vulva, degrading, dirty talk, spanking, outdoor sex, unprotected sex

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

You'd love to say that this wasn't what you planned. That you only talked to that cashier because he was friendly and you missed normal human interaction. That he was a nice, young man and your conversation was purely basic small-talk.

Unfortunately, you knew what would happen from the second you laid eyes on the poor man selling you groceries.

You had smiled at him, thankful for his service and he'd smiled back. His smile was attractive but basic. He was one of those people you found attractive yet wouldn't go out with. They just seemed to not have anything special about them.

He had winked at you when you left and in that second, you knew it was over.

You could see it on your lover's face.

His eyebrow was cocked up and he was smirking, yet you knew that he wasn't happy, not at all.

Otis was fuming.

You could tell from the way his fists clenched around the paper bag, how he opened the door to his truck with more force than usual and how his steps were just a hint too dominant.

You gulped as you got into the truck, not knowing what to do with your hands so you just awkwardly put them in your lap and waited for Otis' arrival. The spot between your legs was aching and you sat up straight.

Trying to get your unhealthy excitement for later out of the way, you stared out of the window.

It was quiet on the way back. Otis didn't even turn on the radio like he usually did.

"So you gonna apologize?", Otis asked after a few minutes, masked anger and jealousy audible in his voice.

You quickly followed his request yet your words didn't seem to soothe him. Excitement bubbled in your stomach. Otis would absolutely destroy you later. And you'd love it.

Everything about this, from his anger to the throbbing in-between your legs just aroused you more and you did your best not to whimper as he kept talking.

"You know what?", Otis started, gripping the steering wheel tighter, "I bet you fuckin' liked that. I bet you liked gettin' all flirty with that asshole back there."

His knuckles turned white.

"Such a fucking little slut you are. Of course, you liked it. Gettin' everyone's attention with that horny attitude of yours, hmm?"

You whined softly, pressing your thighs together as you felt your arousal stain your panties.

"Getting off on this, are you? Pathetic little whore."

"I'm sorry, Otis.", you whined, desperate for some friction.

He scoffed, "Of course you are. Look at you fucking drooling all over my car."

You could already see the tent forming in his pants and you moaned softly, imagining what his dick could do to you right now.

The aching between your legs was unbearable and you moved your hips, trying really hard to rub your sex on the car seat.

"Stop moving slut.", Otis slapped your thigh hard enough to leave a handprint and you whined again.

"I am going to fucking punish you for this.", he murmured and sped up.

"Please punish me. I've been bad Otis." you whined softly and Otis groaned loudly before slowing the car abruptly.

He drove to the side of the small road and stopped the car.

Otis opened the door and turned around.

"Get the fuck outta this car.", he demanded and you followed his demand, quickly sliding out of the truck, thighs wet with arousal.

He rushed to the back of the truck and quickly opened the lid. He tried his best to not seem fazed but you could see his hands shaking as he motioned for you to come over to the opened lid.

"Torso on there now.", he rasped and you obliged.

As soon as your body hit the cold metal, Otis' pulled your pants down and pressed his crotch against your ass.

He groaned as you pushed back onto his body and his fingers gripped your hips tight enough to leave marks.

"See what you're fucking doing to me?", he groaned and quickly started to remove your panties as well.

It struck your mind that every one that came down this road could see you and you tried to explain it to your lover but it was too late.

His slender, cold fingers had found your wetness and you moaned shamelessly as he pushed two fingers inside your aching hole.

He talentedly thrust inside your inner walls and his thumb found your clit. You whined as he started massaging the little bud of nerves.

His other palm suddenly made contact with your asscheek and you sucked in a breath. You could feel the red, hot spot forming on your skin.

"You're not supposed to enjoy this, you fucking whore.", Otis scolded and started thrusting his finger more roughly in and out of you.

"But I guess a slut like you will really enjoy anything." he answered himself and slapped your ass again, making the meat jingle with the intensity of his hit.

"Otis.. please- I need-" you gasped out as you felt the knot inside your stomach tightening.

The wet, sopping sounds of his fingers penetrating your cunt made the whole thing so incredibly dirty, you moaned out shamelessly at that thought.

The knot tightened itself even more and Otis seems to notice it since he removed his fingers from your clenching hole that was now clenching on nothing.

He licked his fingers clean, groaning as your juices hit his tongue.

"Please, I'm sorry- I- Otis-", you sobbed incoherently and Otis slapped your ass again.

"A slut like you is not fucking allowed to tell me what to do.", he chuckled and then pushed his jeans down his hips.

You could feel the heat radiating off his dick and the excitement of his cock inside your throbbing, dripping cunt made you moan again.

You cried out as he thrust inside of you with one quick snap of his hips.

His rhythm was fast and rough, bruising your insides but you didn't complain.

"Fucking.. dirty little slut..", Otis groaned out and you could tell that he wouldn't be able to last long either.

His thrusts grew more intense and you screamed when he hit that spot inside of you that made your leg shake in arousal.

Your thighs were trembling hard at this point. Your face was pressed into the cold and rusty surface of the old truck while Otis railed you better than ever before.

His fingers found your clit and he toyed with it, making you cry out. Tears formed in your eyes as your pussy clenched around his cock.

Otis' arm wrapped around your upper body and he lifted you up, making his cock hit an even deeper spot inside of you.

"Otis- I-", you mewled out, tongue drooling spit all over your chin.

You were his personal fucktoy in his arms, too delirious to move or even think.

The only thing important enough was Otis. How great his cock felt inside of you. How bruising his grip on your waist was. How he fucked you so good, tears escaped your eyes.

You were sobbing now, hot tears escaping your eyes as he rubbed your clit more rapidly, clearly chasing his own release.

His thrusts got even more brutal, the tip of his cock hit that spot inside of you every single time.

Your legs started shaking and trembling like crazy and you screamed out.

The knot inside you tightened and tightened and finally, with one last brutal slam of his hips, it exploded.

Your sight turned white and you screamed his name while you clenched down on his cock, still moving inside of you.

"Fuck.", Otis groaned but you couldn't focus on him, not when your legs were trashing and your eyes turning back into your skull.

Otis kept his rhythm and right when you wanted to kick him off of you because it got too much, his hot seed filled your throbbing cunt.

Your lover groaned loudly again, the sound incredibly attractive to your hazy mind.

You moaned at the warm fluid spreading inside your pussy as your walls kept clenching down on him.

Otis laughed, completely spent, and rested his forehead on your back.

"You should flirt with other fucking assholes more often sugar."

BONUS:

You giggled as you cleaned the cum oozing out of your hole, the overstimulation a ticklish sensation against the irritated flesh.

The sound of a car speeding down the road rapidly ripped you out of your imagination.

Before you could even react, the silver car sped past you.

Upon spotting the situation you were in, the driver hit the car horn two times.

Otis' laugh poured out from behind the truck.

[huenjin]

don't wanna be friends.

pairing: hyunjin x reader | bff2l!au, pornstar!au

word count: 3.705 words

tw: pornstar!hyunjin, nsfw content — dick piercing!hyunjin, multiple orgasms, breast play, breath play, fingering, cunnilingus, marking, penetration, unprotected sex, dumbification, slight overstimulation, creampie, mentions of reader masturbating to hyunjin's porn and the porn explained in detail.

music rec: damage is done | devin hoffman.

note: this was an nsfw ask originally but it got way past the limit, so tada, made it into a oneshot. if anyone was wondering why it's in this format/theme. unedited, like every other work of mine.

you gulp down the next shot under hyunjin's watchful supervision. you've lost count of the shots you have taken and hyunjin has lost count of how many times he has told you to stop, that you are drinking too much.

"he told me that i can't fuck right. that i should at least pretend to fake it to satiate him," you scoff, another tear rolling down from the brim of your eyes and hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling into him to comfort you. "i can't— jinnie, i just don't come when he fucks me. i— maybe something is wrong with me. maybe i just can't orgasm when someone—"

"hush," hyunjin slowly taps your back to keep your thoughts shut. "there's nothing wrong with you, minion. you're fine." he pushes your big round spectacles up, calling you by the name he's always teased you with.

you slam the shot glass down, eyes groggy and head woozy from all the drinks you've gulped down. you lean forward, eyes wide open, glasses sliding down as you look closely at your best friend.

hwang hyunjin is attractive. you've always known your best friend is attractive. his bright eyes that light up at the sight of his dog, kkami, running to him right after you cuddled kkami forever. or the way his face morphs into one of disgust when you threaten to put eggplants into his plate. or the way he'd cuddle you when the weather gets too cold. hyunjin is attractive, both in looks and behaviour.

beyond this, your best friend, hwang hyunjin, is insatiable in the eyes of many women and men, including yours. a pornstar by profession, he knows the ways around women, having them come undone in his hold in minutes — you refuse to believe it's orchestrated. you know how he is in bed or at least what the biz wants him to exhibit and that alone has you trembling.

and to make matters worse in your end, you've orgasmed only once your whole life and that was during the time when you played with yourself while stumbling upon his porn (you were randomly searching for one and the temptation to watch your best friend just exceeded everything).

you knew his profession for so long — hyunjin told it to you over a glass of wine that you spat onto his white shirt the minute he told you about it. the conversation was never spoken about after that.

until today.

"what are you doing, minion? damn," he chuckles, "you really look like a minion with those glasses."

you still once you close in on hyunjin. hands on his chest, eyes fixated on his, you lick your lips and hyunjin's eyes widen, eyes unknowingly trailing downwards till he has to tear his gaze away, reminding himself that it's you, that it's his best friend.

"do you want to fuck me?" liquid courage, indeed.

"you must be kidding me?"

"why? you do this regularly."

hyunjin shoves you away, pushing you back against the couch. his eyes narrows on your figure and you fold your arms. he huffs, eyes glaring at you before looking away. he stretches his arm to take a glass and pour himself a drink, gulping it down and feeling the much needed burn in his throat.

"why?" you whine. "jinnie, that's your job. fuck me. you don't mind it. i'll just be one of those girls."

"i do mind it," he raises his voice. "you're not just one of those girls. fuck, y/n, you're the only constant in my life. why would i fuck that up?"

you bite your lower lip, eyes watering at the rejection suddenly. your drunkenness is what stirs the emotional side in you and your heart is heavy. you just want to be able to fuck like everyone else, just want to feel the bliss your friends talk about, the euphoria they reach.

"wait, are you going to cry?"

"no," you bite your tongue from letting out the sob. "i won't cry. you're not the first guy to reject me. this is normal. no one wants to—"

"y/n."

"—fuck me. who would want to fuck the girl that can't orgasm, let alone fake one?" you let out a fake laugh, tears finally rolling down your eyes.

"oh goodness," hyunjin sighs. he pulls you into him for a hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "you're my best friend, y/n. i shouldn't—"

"i want you to," you look up at him. hyunjin heaves in a huge breath. it catches in his throat as he looks down at you. god, he loves you. he has loved you for years now but who would want to be in a relationship with a guy who fucks girls for a living? not anyone sane. you deserve better. fuck, you deserved so much better than him.

yet, his heart won't stay still. his mind won't stop racing with thoughts he shouldn't normally have about his best friend. heavens, you have hyunjin wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it.

"y/n, don't—"

hyunjin loses his last bit of control over your proposition the minute you place your lips over his. it's exactly as he has envisioned. soft, delicate and everything that kept him away from breaking. you capture his bottom lip, kissing him softly, hands trailing under his sweater. hyunjin feels the goosebumps rising up, your warmth seeping into his. it takes everything in hyunjin to keep his hands away.

you pull away, catching your lower lip with your teeth before letting go and looking away, "you won't even kiss me back. am i that worse? do i kiss bad? jinnie, i just want to be—"

hyunjin has his hands on your face, turning it for you to look at him before he has his lips crashing down on yours, taking your breath away. you heave, breath hitching and you gasp.

hyunjin is aphrodite. the very reincarnation of sin. he creeps into you just as you expected, crawling into your mind and captivating every single sense of yours. your hands are in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body. his hand sprawls over your neck and his thumb presses into the neck, rubbing slow circles. he kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his sweater and you are moaning into his mouth.

you pull away for a second, fingers digging into his clothes, tugging at it to be thrown away and hyunjin obliges. helping you out of yours too, the two of you face each other stark naked. you take him in for the divinity he is in your head, eyes trailing down to his slightly erect dick and you gasp.

it's true. the videos don't lie. he is bigger than you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. it shines under the lighting, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly and heavens, hyunjin can't take his eyes away from you either. was this what he was missing out all this while in the name of friendship?

his lips are back on yours, your breasts firm against his chest as his cock rubs against your inner thigh. it's messy, heavy and has you panting for breath, chasing after his tongue, wrapped around yours like they never want to let go.

quicksand. this is quicksand. you're falling in too quick; falling into everything hyunjin has to offer way too quickly. and you love it. your mind is rid of thoughts. just hyunjin, hyunjin, hwang hyunjin. he pushes back, still kissing you heavily, till your back hits the soft covers of the couch and he's hovering over you.

hyunjin's tongue licks your lower lip, causing you to moan and he's groaning at the sensation, pulling apart for air few minutes later. he cups your face, thumb brushing the side and you lean into his palm.

"i— we should—"

"no, please don't stop," you beg. "not now. please. we're in too deep to stop."

"but y/n—"

"please fuck me, jinnie. fuck me like you fucked soojin."

hyunjin's eyes widens and he pulls away from you. looking at you as if he's staring into your soul, he gulps. "how did you—" his cheeks redden. "wait—" you bite your lower lip. hyunjin pulls the rubber band that holds his hair up, causing the silver strands to fall forward. he runs his finger through it, pushing it back as he holds it tightly to focus. "you watched my porn."

you gulp, lips drying up and you nod, running your mouth quickly to justify yourself. "i did. it was supposed to be a one time thing but—" you look away. "—i touched myself to that. i fingered myself to you fucking soojin and it's the only time i came."

if hyunjin has been just losing it all this while, now, he has lost it completely. his eyes darken, a light growl leaving his lips as he holds your legs and pulls you closer into his kneeling self. you groan slightly in his grip.

"you want me to fuck you like i fucked soojin?"

"yes—"

"want me to fuck you like some doll, huh?" he bends forward, kissing your neck, sucking at the skin till they stain purple to his pleasure. hyunjin marks you all the way to your breasts, covering your skin with both dark and light marks as you repeatedly confirm, "yes, yes, yes."

hyunjin pulls away, staring at you almost tauntingly, licking his lips and running his hand through his hair. he drops the words like they are heavy. "tell me then. tell me what i did and i'll do the same to you, just like you wished."

"you fuck—"

"no," he shakes his head. "in detail. from the very first scene. you'll get only what you ask for. nothing more. nothing less. so, go on, doll. tell me."

the power you hold is insane. you do not know how to use it, however. having never been given this much power, you look at your best friend for a while before slowly telling him. the words seem foreign to you but if this is how it is going to be, and if this helps you come, you're doing it.

"y-you kissed her first." your voice is barely audible. like you're telling hyunjin a secret. hyunjin catches your lips yet again, tongue presses against your lower lip before he slips it in, tangling it with yours as he kisses you. you moan, eyes closing as your hand wrap around his axle, hands pressed on his back. your fingers plays with the few strands of his silver dyed hair at the nape. he pulls back, waiting for you to continue.

with a little more confidence and the huge amount of liquid courage in you, you demand, "you marked her up like you just did to me. i hate that you marked her up. i hated it so much but turned me on."

hyunjin sucks a hickey right above your breast, speaking into your skin, "you hated it, doll?"

"yes. wanted it to be me." hyunjin's teeth grazes your skin and you moan, "fuck." your fingers pull his hair lightly and hyunjin grunts, teeth biting into your skin, making a dark mark that has you arch your back and your thigh to rub against his cock.

"what else did you see me do, doll?" his mouth trails further down to your breast and you gasp.

"you sucked on her breasts. played with it harshly." hyunjin abides by it, sucking on your breasts, tongue lapping around your nipples and drawing out circles by it. "yes, yes— fuck, jinnie, oh my—" hyunjin finds it seductive as fuck that you never complete your sentences as you moan. and he wants you like that — barely being able to say words besides his name. that's all he needed to hear.

"you played with soojin's other breast at the same time like—" his hand is already on your right breast. it pinched the nipple, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. the pain shoots up and it clouds your senses, causing you to grind on his cock. your arousal leaks through you, and you feel yourself grow wetter with every single flick of hyunjin's tongue.

his right hand is still on your breast, his lips trail downward. your breath hitches in your throat and you let out a shortened sigh as he breathes lowly against your skin, kissing it before landing right in front of your core, wet with want for the man before you.

"so fucking wet and what for, doll?"

"your cock, oh my god. jinnie, want your cock in me. please." you beg, writhing in his hold as he grabs your breast, fondling it in his hold.

"that's not what i did in that video. go on, continue." it's stern with command and has you spitting out the next in sequence instantly.

"you—" hyunjin is playing with your nipples as he waits for you to speak. his finger twist and turn your nipples and you're squeezing your thighs together in this intense pleasure. "fuck, can't think, jinnie. i don't know. i—"

"no, no," he hushes. kissing your pubic mound and licking small stripes, he mumbles, "you have to remember the only porno that had you come, right?"

"you—" you feel his warm breath all over your core and a gush of arousal oozes out. "you had your mouth on her pussy. you ate her out till she came, oh my god. you ate her out—"

"well done, doll." and his lips are on your wet ones. he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. it's merciless. and if you thought his porn was intense, you forgot all about how hyunjin himself was a walking pornography. the way his tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening.

the room is filled with lewd noises and your moans, resonating through the whole area for you to hear it out in the silence. it's pornographic. the voices you make resemble those that you heard. hyunjin licks another stripe up your sodden lips before wrapping the plump pair around your clit and sucking on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly.

his teeth grazes over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. it's a vortex forming deep within and from the one time experience you have, you know. it's coming. you're so close. hyunjin rubs your clit furiously, mouth moving back your lip as he eats you out. he pulls apart right when he knows you're soon to come and in a second, two of his fingers are deep within you, rubbing against your inner walls and you're crying out his name just like he wanted.

it's hyunjin, hyunjin, hyunjin. that's all he can hear — his name dripping in saccharine from your mouth, topped with all those insatiable moans that leave your lips and hyunjin quickens his pace. the two fingers thrust in and out of you, finding the spot and rubbing at the walls to elicit a particular reaction — hyunjin is searching. searching for that one spot that will have you ruined for him.

"fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what—"

the minute he touches a particularly soft area, he has you grinding down on him, chanting his name like a mantra and he knows — hyunjin's found your spot. he rubs it as he curves his fingers, having you arch further into him. he sucks on your clit, fingers thrusting in you relentlessly.

and you come undone so easily that it's a surprise how your ex couldn't do this for you. you see the white under your eyelids as you come undone. hyunjin helps you ride it out. he removes his fingers and licks you clean, taking in every single drop of your orgasm.

"told you that you were perfect," he says, looking at you and smiling. he kisses your mound as he lifts your hips up. "you're the most perfect human being ever. so how in the world could anything be wrong with you?" he wipes away the tears rolling down your eyes, as an effect from the intensity of the orgasm you went through. "so, doll, now tell me what else did i do?"

your mind is blank. you can't think of anything. your mind is filled with just the man before you in all his naked glory and how you just want him. "want you, jinnie. please. i want your dick. please want that."

"that's not the answer to my question," he huffs. "did i not lift her legs up like this?" he lifts your legs and places it over his shoulders. his erect cock is angled right and he rubs the head all over your wetness. you hitch and whine, stuttering how much you want him. "did i fuck my doll dumb? did i fuck out all your brains, baby? oh no. should i fuck you more? can you answer that, doll?"

you nod, lips parting. "want jinnie's dick. want it. want it in me."

"as you wish, doll," and he inserts it into you, pushing your walls apart with his fingers till he thrusts completely into you. his piercing underneath his shaft drags against your walls, the cold metal adding the extra sensation that tingles your nerves. his large hands hold your hips up, your ankles hitting his back bone everytime he thrusts into you. he uses his one hand to hold your wrists together above you as he hits your spot over and over again. the friction of his big cock and the frenum piercing is all too much right after one orgasm. the stimulation is over bearing and you know why the girl in the video has her eyes roll up, tongue out and lips swollen.

hyunjin plunges into you and you gush all over his cock, coating almost all of his length with your arousal. hyunjin is barely in but he is already hitting your spot, hot tip brushing against it vicariously and the frenum piercing cold against it. the friction is enough to have the knot tighten so fast and hard that you know this is going to overpower you. hyunjin lets go of you wrists but you hold them above you obediently. his hand trails to hold your breast, squeezing it and fondling with it; the other holding your legs up securely.

with every thrust, his piercing drags against your walls and his balls slap against your cheeks. tears spill down your face as you scream loudly, "jin-ah, fuck. jinnie, jinnie, jinnie. it's too much, oh my god. i can feel it. oh—"

"you're taking it like a good, good doll for me. you can take more. i know you can." he takes his cock out. he wraps his fingers around it and dragging it across your slit and your core, the frenum piercing rubbing against it and you're ready to snap again.

and without any warning, he enters into you again, this time harshly and with a quicker pace. it is fast and hard and has you gripping onto him for the life of yours, your hands moving to hold his biceps, fingers digging into it. hyunjin fucks you like he wants to take you to heaven and back. like he wants to show you everything you are missing out and that there's nothing wrong with you. it's the men. always the men.

"going to fuck you and show you how you should be fucked. how you should be getting it. going to fuck you dumb, doll and have you be mine."

he doesn't stop. hyunjin is grunting and huffing as he thrusts repeatedly in you, his pubic bone hitting your clit and causing short sorts of heightened sensations.

"jinnie! i'm coming. i'm coming. oh fuck, i'm—"

second one in a span of few hours. if you could think properly, you would be surprised at how you came twice. it's surprising that you've come thrice so far in your whole life and all three times were to be credited to hwang hyunjin, your best friend.

you come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you are weeping. you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain as you clench tightly on his cock. hyunjin doesn't stop however, as he chases after his own high, thrusting even faster if it were possible and overstimulating you. in a few minutes, hyunjin is coming in you. hot white spurts of his cum coating your insides as he thrusts his orgasm out, only to pull it out eventually and have his white come and yours poze out and stain the couch.

your eyes are shut and you are panting heavily, chests rising and hyunjin brushes your hair away from your face, wiping the sweat that has accumulated by your forehead. he places your legs down and mumbles, "you okay, minion?"

"hm," you respond. that's all you can say. you were too fucked out to think or do anything. hyunjin chuckles and slowly getting off the couch, he carefully lifts you up into his arms. you snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "where are we going?"

hyunjin barely hears you question with how soft it was. you repeat and it is the second time that he hears it perfectly.

"going to clean you up and rest you in bed. you need to sleep well now." you nod, snuggling further into his chest as he carries you into his bedroom.

hyunjin's wrong, though. when he wondered how in the world anything could be wrong with you, he clearly knew there is something wrong with you.

you are too dense to ever realise how deep his feelings are for you.

[mc-lukanette]

GOD Furious Fu genuinely pissed me off SO MUCH so hopefully you don’t mind me coming over here to ask for some kinda Lukanette fix it for that train wreck??? Like, not even anything super detailed, if you don’t feel like it, maybe just “Marinette caves, gives the Miracle Box to Su-Han, gets spotty memories and Luka (+ Kitty Section and Kagami, maybe) help her out and worry over her.” Maybe Tikki even realizes she screwed up. If not it’s fine but Lukanette makes everything better so I had to ask.

Warning: it’s gonna be a ride.

—————

Luka looked over as his phone started ringing, brows raising at the sight of Marinette's icon popping up on the screen. It'd been rare for her to call him after all the complications that came with them dating, so he was surprised to say the least.

Nevertheless, he rested an arm on his guitar and reached across his bed with his other to pick up the phone, answering the call and moving the device to his ear. "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey, Luka..."

His heart sank at the sound of her voice. It was a whole mix of emotions, but above all else, she sounded tired. He wondered what she'd gone through for her voice to play those sorts of notes.

"Did anything happen?"

"No," she answered almost instantaneously. She paused, then let out a small whine. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so used to lying, but—I guess I don't have to do that anymore."

He stayed silent, allowing her to continue.

"I—" Marinette took an audible breath, then let it out, her voice lowering to a whisper as if she were scared of someone else hearing.

"I'm...I'm Ladybug, Luka."

Luka's first reaction was shock, though he couldn't be sure if it was the identity bomb she dropped or just the fact that she told him at all. Then, once the surprise died down, the idea that Marinette was Ladybug wasn't that surprising in itself. and he couldn't imagine who else it could've been otherwise.

Smart, talented, caring, selfless... it all added up.

But that also made it all the more painful when he realized what it meant. Immediately, all the dates that she'd missed and all the things he'd been concerned about made sense, and it hurt.

That was the secret she couldn't share with him, no matter how badly she might've wanted to.

The last thought in particular was odd to him, and he couldn't help voicing it, "I... thank you for telling me, Marinette, but... why now?"

She took another breath, more unsteady this time, like she were a guitar with something jammed inside the base. "Because—I'm about to forget it, and now I can't stop thinking about everything I might forget; how I want someone to know. You were the first - the only - person I thought of." Then, hesitantly, she asked, "Is that okay?"

Luka swallowed, feeling the whiplash of another dropped bomb right before the kind of casual compliment that made his heart race. "Of...of course it is."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He tried to keep quiet, but couldn't hold back from questioning, "You said 'forget'..."

"Yeah, because I'm guardian now. There was someone else before and they gave me the ladybug miraculous, but—" She paused, as if considering something, then seemed to shift the conversation. "See, I didn't know anything about being a hero at the start, and... I screwed up." Before Luka could ask or recall the event, she continued, "I let the first ever akuma go, and it let Hawk Moth spread his butterflies everywhere when Ivan got akumatized again. I fixed it, but it was still my mistake that started it."

"Marinette—"

"—and I always tried. I tried my best no matter what I did. I tried to be a good Ladybug, a good student, a good daughter, a good friend... and I tried to get Adrien's attention." She groaned, though the sound seemed muffled, perhaps by her hand. Her voice cracked as she went on, "That's where everything went so wrong, Luka. I knew I had bad luck, but no matter how hard I tried, things would go bad. It was humiliating, and I kept thinking that maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. My parents had such a happy relationship and I wanted that, but I was just wasting my time. He was barely in my life but he got put into everything I did, and I made so many mistakes from him. There's a liar in school who wants to turn everyone against me, and Alya thinks I'm just jealous because of Adrien. Chloe convinced me to do things I'm not proud of, and it took a while for me to be Kagami's friend. I didn't listen to my kwami and used my miraculous for my own gain, and..."

"What's wrong with that?" he questioned, voice pained. "What's wrong with using your miraculous for you? You save Paris every other day—"

"—because bad things happen, Luka," she stressed as if it were something urgent. "Bad things happen when I... feel."

There was a pit in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't ask - knew he wouldn't like the answer - but he hoped for better regardless. "Feel... what?"

"Anything."

He hunched forward, not strumming his guitar but running his fingers along the strings, desperate for something to busy himself with. His shoulders were stiff and his chest felt tight, unable to fathom what she'd been going through compared to what he'd merely seen on the surface.

"No matter what I did, no matter what I felt... it was wrong, Luka. I embarrassed Chloe in front of the whole class and she wanted to move to New York. She'd bullied me for years and I was so happy." She sounded conflicted, like instruments that didn't go together. "Adrien told me it was terrible. He didn't know why I could celebrate it. I felt awful, so I gave her a chance; I gave her a miraculous."

Luka anxiously rubbed one of the strings between his thumb and index finger, torn between seething and trying to reassure her despite knowing that she'd cut him off.

"She got it in her head that she deserved it, but with Mayura around, it wasn't safe to let her keep having it. I had to tell her 'no,' and..." She let out a defeated noise. "Do you remember that day? At the park?"

She didn't need to specify, and his voice lost all life at the memory. "Yeah..."

"Adrien and Kagami were together. I let them go. They seemed so happy together and it was the right thing to do, but..."

She paused, and he braced himself.

"When I was going to see the guardian to get a miraculous, I saw them. I got distracted and I forgot to de-transform. Because of me, Hawk Moth found the guardian, and he got the miraculouses from him. By the time I realized what happened, it was too late, and Chloe got akumatized again to ruin me. Those bees you saw—they were hers. They mind-controlled everyone, and that's why your identities were compromised. The guardian had to give up the box with all the miraculouses in it to me - ladybug me - because Hawk Moth was probably about to kill him and become the next guardian." She let out a sob. "Giving up the box... it takes your memory with it."

Luka gripped the string he'd been rubbing.

"I don't know how much he lost, but... anything about the miraculouses was gone. He didn't recognize me. He didn't even recognize the love of his life. He had... feelings, but that was it. All because of me."

"Marinette—" he desperately tried to interject.

She cut him off, as he'd feared, "I'm just fixing my own mistakes. People think I'm a good Ladybug because they don't get that. They don't get that I'm just going in circles. My friends don't believe in me, my parents think I'm too clumsy to carry a tray, and... it always feels like someone - somewhere - is laughing at me, with every screw-up." She whimpered. "What good is a ladybug who gets people akumatized? Who gets her own boyfriend akumatized?"

"I don't blame you for that!" he shouted, intentionally raising his voice to talk over her.

He heard a small noise in response, though he couldn't tell if it was another whimper or a giggle.

"I'm sorry," she said, though what she was apologizing for seemed vague, "and thank you, for always being there for me. I'm glad I have time to talk to you before he gets back."

Luka had to calm himself down to ask worriedly, "He...?"

"The guardian; the one that came before the one I knew. He showed up in my room today and saw how I had all the kwami outside of the box; I guess you're not supposed to do that, and he wasn't happy. He told me about all these rules I broke and how I had to give everything back. I took him to meet Chat Noir, but Chat ran for it when he realized that I'd forget about him. The guardian is chasing him down now and I'm just here, with the box, waiting for him to get back."

Luka leaned back and stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the rush of information she'd thrown at him all at once. He hadn't even been the one to experience any of it and he still felt worn down as if he had.

"I—" He paused, not liking how his voice shook. "I wish I could've helped you, Marinette. I wish you hadn't had to do all of that alone. I know you feel like it's your fault, but even the best musicians miss notes and mess up. Please don't blame yourself."

She let out a non-committal noise and he knew then that nothing he said would help her. He was sure that she believed him, but words could only do so much, and unlearning what apparent months of suffering had taught her would be difficult.

Though, he supposed it wouldn't matter. "Will you forget... everything?"

"I don't know, but at least everything about Ladybug or the miraculouses will go." She let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess it was all for nothing in the end."

"It wasn't," Luka replied. "Marinette, no matter how many times you feel like you screwed up, you were still an amazing ladybug. Everything you said didn't change my mind about that." After a moment of thought, he added, "And that other guardian... how is he?"

He heard her take a breath, as if to give an automatic answer, but she stopped herself. "...He's away from Paris, living with the love of his life."

"See? That sounds better than being the guardian, in Paris, where Hawk Moth is," he pointed out. "Maybe he forgot more than he would've wanted, but—"

"Luka," she interrupted, as if something had just occurred to her.

He considered finishing what he was saying, but stopped himself in favor of wanting to hear her out. "Yeah?"

"A-ah... mm." She struggled briefly while trying to get the words out. "If—if I forget too much... if I forget you... would you still visit me?"

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility, but it hadn't been on the forefront of his mind either, mostly for the sake of keeping himself grounded.

After having an internal debate with himself, he settled for asking, "Would you want me to?"

"Don't say it like that," she pleaded. "Don't leave it all up to me. I...I'd understand if you decide you don't want to see me again. I wouldn't blame you, I just—" Her voice lowered to something both shy and fond. "—I'm my best self when I'm with you, Luka. We didn't date for that long, and maybe it would've been better for you if we never met, but I..."

The pause she made had him holding his breath, his grip on the phone tightening. He couldn't believe she would dare to imply that he wouldn't do it all over again; meeting her, writing songs about her, dating her...

Marinette let out a breath, and Luka noted that it sounded so... final, like this was really the end.

"I love you, Luka."

His heart hammered in his chest. "Marinette."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," she whispered. After going quiet for a few seconds, her tone suddenly shifted as she said, "I have to go now. He's on his way."

Luka took a sharp intake of breath, but the click of the call came before he could speak. He could only stare down at the phone, Marinette's contact image staring back as an emptiness washed over him.

Then, he was on his feet, guitar tossed aside, and he'd never moved so fast before in his life.

—————

Marinette gazed at Luka's picture for a few more seconds, as if doing so would permanently imprint it into her memory, then sighed and tossed it onto her chaise lounge. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tiredness and unshed tears, unable to help wondering if Fu falling unconscious after his memory loss was something peaceful for him.

When she uncovered her eyes, she noticed the kwami, all distancing themselves from her but staring at her like she was a corpse in a coffin.

"What...?" she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

They all exchanged glances, like they were debating telepathically, then Wayzz flew forward.

"I - we - we're so sorry, Marinette," he said. Bowing in respect, he added, "We got so excited, and we only caused you more problems."

Marinette shrugged, only able to offer a defeated smile. "There's nothing we can do now. It's too late to change anything."

Tikki approached, her body hunched over and making her look even smaller than she already was. "I-I should've said something. I let him talk to you like that and I didn't do anything to stop him."

Marinette reached over, tempted to pet or touch her kwami in some way to help reassure her, but pulled back at the last moment, too conflicted about it.

The sound of something landing on the balcony followed, and Marinette stared up at it like she could see through her ceiling.

"...He's here," she stated. After giving one last look at all of her kwami, she focused specifically on Tikki and said, "Spots on."

Su-Han descended into her room, Ladybug standing in the center and wanting nothing more but to get things over with. He approached her, raising his fist and then opening it to show her the ring inside; Chat Noir's ring. Plagg, meanwhile, hovered aimlessly around the room, not meeting anyone's eyes and probably sensing the tension.

"That crybaby was even more of a fool than I'd thought," Su-Han commented, "giving a miraculous to a boy whose face is all over this village."

"What?" Ladybug blurted out. A boy whose face was all over—but that meant—"Adrien?"

Su-Han raised a brow. "A friend of yours?" He promptly scoffed. "That makes him even more foolish."

She couldn't even find it in herself to respond, too busy grappling with so casually being told something she'd intended to never learn about if she could help it.

Adrien was Chat Noir? It explained a little bit of everything and made her feel a lot of everything at the same time, like the two personalities meshed together to create something both shocking yet profoundly upsetting. She saw her memories with Adrien in place of Chat Noir and vice versa, unable to separate the two and pursing her lips as she recognized that, perhaps if things had been a little different...

"Young lady," Su-Han called strictly, pulling her out of her trance. "I don't have time to waste here. Relinquish the Miracle Box to me, at once."

"A-ah..." Ladybug could only nod, still dazed but at least focused enough to respond. She stared down at her hands, staring at the red and single black spot on the back of each, then sighed and closed her eyes, accepting that it was the last time she'd see them.

"I, Ladybug, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box..."

The last feeling she'd remember as Ladybug was a deep, unrelenting regret; regret for all the things she did do, didn't do, and the things that weren't even in her control.

Then, as her mind was fogging and she was slipping into darkness, she felt something else.

She felt free.

—————

Luka didn't bother saying a word to Tom or Sabine when he charged inside the bakery, both of them letting out various shouts of concern as he bolted past them and ran up the stairs. He nearly tripped multiple times, but he never stopped moving. He dashed up each flight until his eyes locked on the door to Marinette's living room.

He opened the door in a hurry, ignoring the sound of it slamming against the wall, and headed right for the stairs to Marinette's room. He threw caution to the wind and pushed open the trap door in the same fashion, his eyes scanning the place in a panic.

Then, his gaze fell upon Marinette, lying there on the floor, earrings gone, and he realized that he was too late. If he were honest, he hadn't known exactly what he'd rushed there to do - try and prevent the memory loss? tell her how wrong she'd been during their call? call out the guardian for treating his beloved so cruelly? - but now that he was there, all he could think about was being there for her.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then approached and knelt down next to her. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her up and brought her over to her chaise lounge, wanting to at least get her off the floor. Her phone had been resting on the chaise’s cushion, but he simply moved it to the table after setting her down.

He paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair and ruffling it. His mind was still racing, as was his heart, and his running had nothing to do with either. He knew that, whether Marinette had her memory or not, she was the song in his head, and any pain that would come with her not knowing him couldn't compare to the pain of not seeing her again. She wasn't a burden, and no matter how many excuses he might have to come up with, he wasn't going to let her be alone, especially not when she trusted him with a secret that she'd only let him hear.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the slight shuffling noise, though the sound of Marinette stirring was what made him fully turn around to look at her. While she laid there, her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, darting aimlessly around the room as if in search of something.

"Marinette," he whispered, rushing over to her. Bending over the chaise lounge, barely thinking, he asked gently, "Are you okay?"

"Mm..." Her eyes found his, and she blinked a few times before she actually seemed awake enough to answer him. "Luka?"

His breath, his words, his very sound, all caught in his throat. If he were a guitar, his strings would've snapped from the sudden release of tension.

"Y-you... know who I am?" he asked in a small voice.

She tilted her head at him, confused by the question. "Of course I do? You're my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. She said boyfriend. She didn't just remember him, she remembered her feelings for him.

He got misty-eyed from the realization, and Marinette's eyes widened in alarm.

"L-luka?" she called, brows furrowed with concern. She reached up with a hand, sliding it along his cheek. "What's wrong—what happened? I swear I'm okay, I—"

He shook his head, gently holding onto her wrist and feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse to ground himself. "Nothing, Marinette. Nothing happened. You—you just had a bad fall."

"O-oh. I...I'm sorry." She pushed herself up with her free hand. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to worry—"

He couldn't wait any longer. He hugged her, squeezing her with every ounce of love that'd been accumulating since they'd originally broken up. Marinette didn't seem to understand the intensity of his actions, but didn't hesitate to hug him back either, even humming with content and burying her face into his shoulder.

Her song sang freely to him. It wasn't torn or twisted up, playing openly instead of staying locked in a music box. He couldn't have been happier after she'd given him such a scare before, and any remaining questions could come later.

For that moment, he just let their duet play free-er than it'd ever been able to before.

—————

"Luka~" Marinette called from the kitchen. When he looked over to her, she raised two different bottles of iced tea, waving them a bit for emphasis. "Which one do you want?"

He hummed, then pointed to the one in her left hand. She nodded at the decision, then put the other bottle back in the fridge, retrieving a bottled drink of her own before leaving the kitchen to join him on the couch.

The last few weeks had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but not necessarily in a bad way. He'd had to deal with Marinette's memory loss and simultaneously piece together how exactly it'd all worked out, but all in all, it was good for her.

Most of Marinette's memories outside of being Ladybug were in tact, and Luka had realized soon after she'd woken up from her memory loss that the reason she’d forgotten about their break up was exactly because it'd been related to her being Ladybug. He'd tried vaguely to explain it to her as if he hadn't known that she was Ladybug, wondering if those negative feelings still lingered, but they both still wanted to date each other and thus concluded that not dating after all that would've been silly. He knew full well that she wasn't going to be stressed or strapped for time anymore, so it wasn't a subject worth debating over, especially if it meant that they could move back into dating without issue.

She'd initially cried when he assured her that he was happy to continue dating her. She couldn’t comprehend why and he'd merely hugged her in reassurance, imagining that he was also hugging the Marinette of the past who didn't believe he'd want to date her again.

Outside of that, there were additional gaps in Marinette's memory that she couldn't explain, and Luka was certain that they were either Ladybug or guardian-related. Her parents had been particularly concerned by the losses, but Luka noted to himself that the lost memories were for the best. It was as if all of the memories that had caused her stress had evaporated, leaving only good ones behind.

Adrien was the big one, as she hadn't been able to remember him at all. At best, she was uncomfortable around him, and Luka did her the favor of removing any pictures of the guy from her cork board and phone. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he put together that Adrien was Chat Noir, things fell into place. Marinette had explained during their phone call that the previous guardian had lost his memory of the love of his life, but Luka imagined that she might've been his confidant for so long that thinking of her as anything else was impossible. Factor in that Marinette had also explained that her crush on Adrien had seeped into her being Ladybug, and it all added up; so long as the connection between the person and the miraculouses was unavoidable, they were forgotten.

And Marinette seemed all the happier for it. To some degree, it was tragic that Paris didn't have Ladybug anymore, but as far as Luka was concerned, Marinette needed to be rid of Ladybug more than Paris needed her, and Marinette's health took priority over all else.

The new ladybug holder was no replacement from the original, but Luka had expected that. Despite them being an adult and having access to as many lucky charms as they desired, no one could substitute Ladybug's instinct and ability to think on her feet.

But that wasn't Luka's problem, and he wholly intended to make sure that it wasn't Marinette's either. She'd heard that there was a previous ladybug, but had no interest in anything relating to the heroes nor their miraculouses. The most she'd said about them was one time where she'd idly commented that her homeroom and PE teachers had been "busier than she remembered," though she'd brushed it off as being related to her mild memory loss.

He'd giggled at that. He had been prepared to have to fall in love with a slightly different Marinette, but she honestly hadn't changed much; still caring, still generous, and still the adorable mess that he loved so much. She could afford to work on her confidence, sure, but he didn't fall for her due to what Ladybug had given her.

"Luka?"

He blinked, then looked down to her; her and her bright, happy eyes, the darkness underneath having faded long ago. She smiled at him, oblivious to his thoughts and a brow raised in amusement.

"Were you daydreaming?" she asked curiously, her hand covering his and giving it a casual squeeze.

Luka still couldn't quite believe that he was hers and she was his. He recalled Desperada, that fateful day where she - Ladybug at the time - had given him the snake miraculous, presumably after she'd tried to give it to Adrien. He wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but there was a pride in being able to do something that Adrien couldn't. He'd never forgotten her words either, knowing now that they were Marinette's.

"You were the right choice, Luka."

He sighed blissfully, bending down to press his forehead against hers and replying, "I'm just happy."

She let out a small whine at the sudden and sweet gesture, but still pressed back in return. "Me too."

They stayed in that moment until a sudden thumping noise brought them out of it, Luka jerking his head up to stare at where it'd come from: Marinette's room. Immediately recognizing what was happening, he groaned and rubbed his face in irritation.

As expected, the man Luka had come to know as Su-Han emerged, descending the stairs and locking eyes with Marinette. She recoiled, her hands clutching Luka's sleeve as she murmured, "Not you again..."

Luka gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then got up from the couch and walked around to face Su-Han himself.

The man huffed. "I'm not here for—"

"Marinette wants nothing to do with you," Luka said lowly. He went for the living room door, opening it and gesturing outside. Su-Han followed with an air of self-importance and Luka closed the door behind them, leaving Marinette safely out of the conversation.

"The former ladybug had not even informed me of what she'd done," Su-Han explained. "Therefore, it's time she take responsibility and—"

Luka snapped, "You don't get to blame anything on Marinette. She did everything you asked her to and you made her give up her memories." He purposefully left out the fact that she was better off without said memories. "You're the one who insulted her song before you even got to hear it."

Su-Han squinted, the phrase clearly going over his head. "...What?"

At that point, the sound of footsteps came from downstairs, Luka glancing past the railing to see Tom coming up, perhaps having heard the voices even if he didn't hear any specific words.

The moment he saw Su-Han, Tom glared.

"Honey! That man bothering our daughter is back!" he shouted.

More footsteps followed, this time from Sabine and simultaneously much faster than Tom’s. Su-Han clearly caught on that this would be a repeat of "last time" (one of Luka's fonder memories of seeing the man be dealt with) and quickly fled back into the other room to return to Marinette's balcony and escape.

Once Luka had confirmed that everything was okay, he returned to the couch to sit at Marinette's side again. She tilted her head at him, but didn't ask any questions, Su-Han having become something on a "frequent but harmless weirdo" who she didn't understand.

Luka held an arm out invitingly, then wrapped it around Marinette when she snuggled against him. He used his free hand to open the bottle of iced tea - finding it difficult but also not worth leaving their cuddle to allow for both hands - then tipped the drink to his mouth to take a sip.

"Hey, Luka?" Marinette called, slightly shy in her delivery.

Luka met her gaze, setting the drink back on the table so he could give her his full attention. "Hm?"

"Could we... go on a date tomorrow?" she asked, one of her hands idly fiddling with the fabric of his pant leg. "I was thinking we could go buy a movie to watch? The one with Jagged Stone?"

He didn't know if the request had anything to do with the failed date that she may or may not recall anymore, but regardless, he was grinning like a fool. He pulled her closer, his free hand falling upon one of hers as he nuzzled her. "I'd love that."

He silently looked forward to the day where all the new memories he made with her outmatched the time lost from her old ones.

[fruitcoops]

hi <3 i hope you’re well and having a beautiful day so far. i was wondering if you could write a fic about sirius or logan’s brother like relationship to adele - for example, how they would approach her when she’s having a bad day or when she needs advice about something or maybe even after a disagreement with her parents. no worries if you can’t, i just thought it would be a wholesome interaction 💕

Oh, for sure! Katie and Logan get so much attention (for good reason--they're adorable), but I like to think of Sirius and Adele as the blueprint. Hope you enjoy! Combined with asks for Logan and Loops friendship, Papa Dumo (for @ jinxedjaz), Sirius coming back from visiting his parents while living with the Dumais, and Sirius-learning-to-people from this hc list. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

I

A little hand tugged on the hem of Dumo’s sweater. “Papa?”

He glanced up from his crossword and smiled, turning to lift Adele into his lap. “Bonjour, mon papillon. Do you want to help me?”

“Is Sirius okay?”

Dumo paused. His first instinct was to lie—how could he even begin to explain the complexity of the situation to a seven-year-old?—but the brightness in Adele’s big eyes told him she already knew the answer. She was a smart kid. She deserved to know at least some of the truth. “He’s having a tough day,” Dumo said quietly as dishes clinked in the other room. No matter what he and Celeste tried, Sirius insisted on washing up. “He’ll be alright.”

A little furrow appeared between Adele’s eyebrows. “Is it because of us? Because he misses his family now?”

“No, sweetheart, not at all. He just…” The words were impossible to find. “He just doesn’t like holidays very much.”

She worried her lower lip for a moment before wiggling free of his arms. “I’m going to make him feel better.”

“Adele—” Dumo made a grab for her, but she had already scampered out of reach and around the corner to the kitchen. In the three days since Sirius had come back from Thanksgiving, he had already reverted back to his shut-down ghost of a self.

“Excuse me, please,” Adele announced. The sink shut off. “Are you sad?”

That’s certainly one way to do it. Dumo craned his neck to watch their reflections in the glass of the back door without revealing his position. Sirius was always more comfortable around the kids than himself and Celeste. “Quoi?” Sirius asked, turning to face her.

“Are you sad? You’ve been frowny.”

Silence fell for a few seconds. “Ouais, a little,” he said at last. “But I’m not sad because of you.”

“That’s good. Papa said so, too. He says you don’t like holidays, but that’s so silly, because we were just talking about Christmas last week.”

“I like some holidays,” Sirius said haltingly. There was a rustling noise; Dumo saw him pick Adele up and settle her on his hip with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “I’m very excited to spend Christmas with you.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“Good. I want you to spend all the holidays with us. Will you be frowny on Christmas, too?”

“I don’t think so.” Dumo could practically hear Sirius’ smile. “See? I’m already better.”

“Will you open presents with me? Marc and Louis always open theirs together, and Mama and Papa, but Katie’s too little to do it with me. I like playing Santa, but it means I hafta go last.”

In the glass, Dumo saw Sirius press a raspberry kiss to her cheek until she burst into giggles; his grin lit up the whole kitchen. “Of course I will.”

II

“You have to smile,” Adele groaned. “You’re scaring off all my customers.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

She turned a big, sunshine grin on him, pressing her fingers into her dimples to exaggerate it. “Big smiles! You like being here! These are the best cookies you’ve ever had! Everyone should try them!”

“They should!” Sirius agreed. “I don’t know why you’re upset!”

She heaved a sigh and clonked her forehead on his stomach, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. “You look scary when you don’t smile.”

“I do not.”

“You do! You’re built like a brick wall and when you’re thinking, you get frowny!” She adjusted her Girl Scout vest and straightened up. “You have to be perky and fun and the cutest little kid on the block.”

“…I might have a problem with the last part.”

“Then I’ll be the cutest little kid on the block,” she said, exasperated.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you think I’m scary?”

“No,” she snorted. “But other people do.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Mama looks surprised when her face relaxes, but you’re, like, looming.”

“So…you’re upset with how my face looks?” he teased, dodging her attempt to poke his ribs.

“No, I just don’t need a bodyguard to sell cookies!”

“That’s literally what I’m here for,” he laughed, tugging one of her pigtails until she stuck her tongue out at him. “Alright, madame, I’ll try to be ‘perky’ and ‘fun’.”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” she informed him with great gravity, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she turned back to the people walking across the street. “Hey, lady, do you want cookies?”

III

“So,” Logan began, then shoved another handful of pretzel sticks into his mouth. “Dating the captain. What’s that like?”

Sirius looked up from his phone and glared. “I am sitting right next to you.”

“Shush. Loops?”

Remus sighed and let his head fall toward Logan’s armchair; he was starting to get lightheaded from laying upside-down for so long, but it was doing wonders for his lower back and sore feet. “Dating the captain? Pretty cool, to be honest.”

Logan made a noise of disagreement. “I don’t believe that for a second. Does he make you run drills in the basement, or is it just a cuddle party all the time? ‘cause there’s no in-between.”

“Tabarnak,” Sirius muttered, flicking Logan’s ear as he headed out of the room. “You two gossip like middle-schoolers.”

“It’s really not bad,” Remus mused as he stretched one leg toward the curtains. “I’m the one who likes running drills, so he’ll usually watch tape while I do that for a bit. Cuddles aren’t as frequent as you might think. We’re boring.”

“Mmm, with some wild nights in there, eh?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows and Remus chucked a pillow at him, though it did not seem to deter him. “I seem to remember hearing a certain conversation about a new bedframe?”

“A headboard,” Remus corrected, pulling a face at him. “And it was already almost ten years old. You’re just jealous.”

“Ugh, for him? Nah. Peanut might have carried a torch—”

“You’re kidding. Did he really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan snorted, as if it was obvious. “But he has better taste now. Honestly, though, I’m glad you two are together. And that you’re happy in your boring domesticity, even if you’re breaking beds left and right.”

“Headboard, and it was one time.”

“Did I ever tell you about—”

The front door slammed open; both of them jumped as something heavy hit the ground with a thud. “Sweetheart?” Celeste asked from the living room, audibly concerned. Remus’ heart dropped and he shared a worried look with Logan, who was already on his feet. “Adele, what’s wrong?”

“Adele?” Logan called, his voice laced with worry. Remus’ heartbeat picked up as Adele appeared in the doorway to the living room with tears streaming down her cheeks, only to throw herself into Logan’s arms with a harsh sob. “Woah, hey, qu’est—”

“Boys are so stupid!” she half-shouted, half-wailed. “And I hate them!”

Remus stood there, useless, as she tore away and sprinted for the backyard, yanking the door shut with a bang before tearing across the grass. “Logan?” he asked after a moment. There was no protocol for this. He had absolutely zero experience with preteen breakdowns, and the Dumais kids always fell into Logan and Sirius’ territory. He could count on one hand the number of actual conversations he had had with Adele.

Logan’s nose twitched; he opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat when Sirius came through the doorway and made a beeline for the yard without a single glance to either of them. “She’ll be okay,” Logan murmured as Sirius walked slowly to the swings, where Adele was sitting on the bench seat with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

“She seems pretty upset.”

Logan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the pair. “I’ve got Katie, he’s got Adele.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, surprised. Logan and Katie were famous for their bond, two peas in a pod. As far as he knew, Sirius was equally close with all the Dumais kids.

“Apparently, they bonded from day one,” Logan said with the flicker of a smile. Outside, Adele laid her head on Sirius’ shoulder and pulled his arm around her back, burrowing into the softness of his hoodie as he gently rocked the swing with his foot and gave her a light squeeze. “They’re both quieter. Oldest children and all that. You really didn’t know?”

“I…” Remus trailed off and shook his head. “You and Katie are much louder about it, but that makes sense. He talks about all of you all the time., I guess I just assumed it was different since he was so closed off at first.”

Logan hummed. “Ask about it sometime. Dumo always likes talking about them.”

Sirius and Adele walked back after a few more minutes, still attached at the hip as Sirius jostled her lightly and pulled half a smile from her; they entered the house in relative quiet and Adele wrapped her arms around him one more time. “Love you,” she said, voice muffled in his sweater. Sirius rubbed her back in slow circles until she pulled away and padded down the hall to the bathroom

“Children are so mean,” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Then I’m glad she has you.” Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ shoulder and felt him relax beneath his touch. “Is she alright?”

“Some little asshole told her nobody would want to date her because she plays hockey.”

Remus’ heart panged. “How can we help?”

“Teach her how to throw a right hook,” Logan suggested. In a rare turn of events, Remus couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not; from the look on his face, it seemed to be the latter.

“She’ll be okay, baby,” Remus said. Sirius didn’t look away from the closed door. “Kids have always been mean, but the best thing you can do is be there for her, which you just did. It’s hard and it sucks but as long as she knows you love her, that’s enough.”

“Does she?” Sirius asked, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Remus looped an arm around his waist and kissed the top of his shoulder. “She does,” he promised. Without a doubt.

IV

Sirius drummed his hands on the steering wheel with a wide smile. “I’m so excited,” he said for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

“I can tell,” Remus said, still reading through his missed messages. The cell service in customs had been abysmal, and for some godforsaken reason his dad desperately needed to send paragraph updates on his hunt for the perfect holiday lights. Some days, Remus wondered whether he was happiest with his family or in Home Depot.

“I missed them.”

“Yep.”

“And I can’t let Logan get there first.”

“Sure thing, honey. Speed limit.”

“Three weeks is a long time, did you know that?”

“Mhmm. Sirius, speed limit.”

“How do you manage being away from Jules for that long?”

“Very poorly,” Remus said as he typed out a quick response to his dad’s latest text. His mother would end him if he allowed their house to be decorated with anything green—in all honesty, he was starting to think she had a personal rivalry with the Snakes. They turned onto Dumo’s street and he felt the excitement radiating off Sirius kick up several notches. “Deep breaths, love.”

“Ah, fuck me, the cubs are right behind us,” he muttered, pulling over to the curb and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Sirius!” Remus spluttered.

“What?”

“Turn the fucking car off before you get out!”

Sirius heaved a sigh and pulled the key out, then took off toward the house at a jog; Logan went sprinting past the passenger window half a second later, and Remus heard Finn shouting after him from the still-running car to no avail. They reached the front steps at the exact same time, shouldering each other in an attempt to reach the doorbell first.

“—want to push it!” Logan insisted, kicking Sirius lightly on the shin as Remus headed up the walkway.

“You did it last time!” Sirius argued.

“I’m the youngest, so I get to do it!”

“That’s not how it works!”

The door swung open just as Logan tried to bodily shove Sirius out of the way, only to be put in a scrambling headlock. Dumo regarded them with an exhausted look on his face. “Bonjour, Loops.”

“Hey, Dumo,” Remus called from the base of the steps. “Nice night, eh?”

He shrugged, ignoring the two grown men roughhousing on his welcome mat. “Not bad.”

“Are les enfants here?” Logan panted, trying to heave Sirius into the nearest hedge.

Dumo rolled his eyes and opened the door the rest of the way. “Kids, we have visitors!”

Thundering footsteps echoed off the walls; Logan and Sirius tripped over each other in their haste to get inside. “Tremzy!” Katie shrieked, launching herself into his arms with a beaming smile.

Sirius hoisted Adele straight off her feet and shook her back and forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “You were gone forever!” she laughed. “We missed you!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Logan teased as he set Katie down and opened his arms for a hug of his own. Marc and Louis slammed into him, nearly toppling him in the entryway.

“No, no, no!” Katie giggled as Sirius blew a raspberry kiss on her stomach, only to mimic it on his cheek a moment later. “You’re all scratchy.”

“Tough for kisses,” Remus agreed. “You should tell him to shave, Katie-bird.”

Katie squished his cheeks in her hands with a solemn frown. “No more porcupines.”

“You got it,” Sirius confirmed. “What do you think, Adele?”

She pulled a face and they all dissolved into laughter, exhausted from the long roadie and unable to contain their happiness. It was a tradition Remus was coming to know as he spent more time with the team—Logan and Sirius just couldn’t resist swinging by the Dumais house after a long trip, no matter how drained and battered they were. It was a combination of a competition and a family reunion, and the kids loved it every time.

“Are you staying the night?” Marc asked, lazily tying Sirius’ shoelaces together.

“Not tonight, no.”

“But it would be fun,” Louis said from his place hoisted under Logan’s arm, legs dangling.

“They’re tired, boys, be nice.” Celeste winked at Sirius as he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek before moving to Logan to do the same. “We watched all your games. You were wonderful.”

“Merci, Celeste.” The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled, and Remus saw Finn and Leo share a smile behind him.

Sirius craned his neck to look back. “Oh, she wasn’t talking to you.”

Logan stuck his tongue out as the kids laughed, still clinging to them both. Remus happily accepted a quick hug and a hair-ruffle from Celeste before she moved on to Finn and Leo, and settled in for a cozy evening at home.

[wyattjohnston]

put your arms around me - nolan patrick

note: this is a sequel to say that we'll be together and is set in november 2020 after Gin agrees to move to Philly.

word count: 2,056

warnings: this depicts depression. it's not glamourous but it's also not horrible, but there are descriptions of depressive episodes and conversations about them.

summary: a new city and a whole new life is even harder than she had imagined. feeling lonely doesn't always mean you're alone.

It was a lovely day outside—the sun was out, not a single cloud in the sky and there was a lovely warm breeze to combat the overnight chill that hadn’t quite left. Virginia only knew as much from the blinds and window that had been open since Nolan woke up two days earlier.

She had barely moved since he left on his short road trip. All she’d really done was use the bathroom, eat a handful of crackers, and cried to her mum on the phone—her usual activities when Nolan was away.

She was barely awake when the door to their bedroom opened, and she heard Nolan’s heavy footsteps. The major difference between that and every other road trip was that Virginia was normally able to get out of bed before he got home.

“Big night?” he asked, laughter in his voice because he was never sympathetic to a self-inflicted hangover.

Virginia tried to laugh, she really did, except the sound that came out was a sob—loud, wet, and right from her chest.

Something hit the ground with a loud thud, Virginia sobbed again, and then Nolan was underneath the covers, pressing up behind her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. “What happened?”

Virginia didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to bring him into her emotions but when he squeezed her to assure her that he was there, she said, broken, “I’m so lonely.”

Silence consumed them, only their breathing and the outside world could be heard. Nolan wrapped her up tighter and draped his leg over hers to be certain he was holding her as close as possible.

Sobs continued to wrack Virginia’s body despite Nolan’s hold. She’d been crying so much that her entire body ached, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Is—was this just a few bad days or--?” Nolan asked, evidently afraid of what her answer might be.

She really did not want to tell him the truth, but he deserved to know, even if it would break him, too.

“Every time.”

Somehow, Nolan managed to hold her even tighter, a breath being punched out of him. Virginia sobbed again. The world continued to move outside with some cars honking, someone yelling, Kev’s moments downstairs, but Virginia and Nolan laid in silence despite it all.

Nolan’s hand reached over to brush her hair from her face; he kissed her cheek and said, “We’ll get you a plane ticket home, okay? This weekend.”

She didn’t think it was possible but the ache in her chest worsened at the thought of getting out of bed, of leaving Nolan, of boarding a plane and leaving him for good. If she couldn’t bear him leaving for a few days, how would she survive leaving him permanently?

“You don’t want me here?” Virginia asked, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.

Nolan sighed, his breath brushing against her cheek. “I want you here, Gin, but I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“I can’t be here every day.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yeah, I am,” he breathed, kissing the back of her head. “Do you reckon you could take a shower?”

“Will you come with me?”

Nolan’s answer was yes, and Virginia was relieved even though she truly hadn’t expected him to say anything else. Getting out of the bed was hard, just as it had been every day since he left, but it was a little easier with Nolan there to guide her.

She let herself be undressed, her limbs heavy and unhelpful. If there was less fog filling her brain, maybe she’d have been concerned that it was the least sexy she’d ever been, that Nolan had never seen her in such a state, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Virginia waited, leaning against the counter, as Nolan turned on the shower and let the water warm up while he stripped out of his own clothes.

It was nice under the water, feeling days of sadness wash off of her, Nolan wrapped around her and angling them so that the water was running over her hair and body but not streaming down her face.

“I love you,” she whispered into his chest when he was running soap down her back. “I want to stay with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

Virginia was sitting on bed, her laptop on her knees, searching for any job that would possibly take her without anything but a high school diploma and experience at a tiny hardware store in Manitoba. She’d applied to every job she thought she had a shot at and was going to keep doing that until there was no job she hadn’t looked at.

The bedroom door opened, and Virginia looked up, expecting Nolan to come back upstairs with her coffee, only the person in her doorway was much shorter and much blonder.

“Hello,” Amy said cheerily. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Virginia asked in a panic. “Go where?”

“Girls night at Ryanne’s. Attendance is sort of mandatory.”

“Uh… no,” Virginia said, her eyebrows pulling together, and settling herself further into the mattress.

Amy raised her own eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest, “Why not?”

“I’m not going with no warning to hang out with a bunch of women I have nothing in common with.”

“How could you possibly know you have nothing in common with them when you’ve never spent time with them outside of games?”

“Because they’re not like me.”

Amy froze, one perfect eyebrow raised towards her hairline.

“If this is some Not Like The Other Girls—”

“I’m from a town with less than 300 people. I have no money and no job—”

“Virginia,” Amy said, in a way that Virginia had only ever heard from her grandmother, “I work at a zoo. I’m not even a zookeeper; I give tours to snotty elementary school kids. It’s not a great paying job.”

“Amelia—you can do that because you have a trust fund and a grandfather who tops up your bank account every month,” Virginia snapped, her own bank account figure shooting through her mind along with the stress of what to do now that it was dwindling.

“I still thought we were friends despite that,” Amy said, shocked but reserved. “You don’t have to come but you need friends and not all of them grew up like I did—I’m probably the outlier here. Some of them might even like to fish but you won’t know unless you come and talk to them.”

“Nolan said something, didn’t he?”

“Yes. This may or may not have been thrown together in half an hour after he called me this morning.”

“What do I wear?”

Amy checked out Virginia’s outfit, her yoga pants and very large #19 Flyers hoodie causing a shrug. “Literally what you’re wearing now. I’m not getting changed.”

Virginia didn’t quite buy that what she was wearing was acceptable, because Amy was at least wearing her own clothes even it was athletic attire. As she stood up, after putting her laptop aside, and pulled Nolan’s hoodie over her head—it smelt a bit ripe, anyway, so changing out of it wouldn’t hurt her.

Amy was still standing in the doorway, waiting, and watching as Virginia grabbed her shoes and put on the absolute bare minimum of makeup. She also made sure her hair looked at least semi-brushed. Any other day she would have recoiled at the thought of the other WAGs seeing her in anything less than she would wear to a game.

“I’m sorry for implying we weren’t friends. We are,” Virginia said sheepishly, standing in front of Amy.

“Call me next time you’re feeling down then, okay?” she said without any hostility. “You don’t have to be alone in this city.”

They made their way downstairs, coming across Nolan, Kev and Teeks in the kitchen laughing raucously. Virginia walked straight to Nolan, placed her hand on his upper back and then pushed it to his neck so she could tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. When he looked at her, she smiled at him; it wasn’t big or showy, just something to let him know that she knew what he’d done and that she appreciated the effort he’d gone to.

Exhaustion was taking over Virginia by the time Amy drove her back home, collected Teeks and left. Kev had long since hidden away in his room, so it was just Virginia and Nolan on the couch. Nolan stretched out on the couch, Virginia settling easily on top of him her ear to his chest listening to his steady heartbeat. One of his hands settled on the back of her neck, making her feel small and safe.

“You had to get Amy involved,” she mumbled, trying not to succumb to her need for sleep. “It couldn’t have been Sofia?”

“Sofia wouldn’t have been able to bring together everyone’s wives and girlfriends—I have no clue what she and Kev are doing but she’s not sitting in the family box. What’s wrong with Amy? I thought you liked Amy.”

Virginia sighed. “I do like Amy. She’s just very persistent.”

“That’s why I called her. Would you have preferred Ryanne? Get the Captain’s wife to drag you outside?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have put up a fight and accidentally implied that we weren’t friends.”

Nolan’s chest stilled beneath her for the briefest moment before it vibrated with his low laugh. He said, incredulous and amused, “You didn’t.”

“I did, after I had a Not Like The Other Girls moment.”

“You’re not like the other girls, though.”

“Choose what you say next very carefully.”

“Because you’re mine.”

She raised her head to kiss him. It was brief and soft and there was nothing else she could have asked for. The smile it brought to his face, discrete and oh-so Nolan, brought one to hers, too.

She repositioned herself so that her chin was on his sternum, so she was talking directly to him while she recounted what had actually happened. He told her he didn’t need to know, that she was allowed to just spend time with the girls and not report back with everything, but she continued—she wanted to share stories of what she’d done with people she was beginning to think of as friends.

Her eyes widened as she remembered a particular moment, Nolan widened his back in gently mocking anticipation.

“They tried to hand me a baby,” she breathed dramatically. “Nol, there were so many babies. What if they think I’ll babysit?”

He scoffed, another laugh sneaking out, “Nobody is going to ask you to babysit.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand that had been on the back on the back of her neck moved down her back until it was resting on her ass, a favourite place for it to just be. One of her own hands was underneath his t-shirt, pressed against the warm skin of his abs.

Nolan, still laughing, said, “I bet you flinched when they tried to hand you the baby. I know you flinched.”

“Yes—”

“Everyone has babysitters and, if they don’t have babysitters, they have Amy.”

“She’s so good with kids,” Virginia sulked. “It never looks like she’s going to hurt them.”

He patted her ass lightly, barely any pressure, and managed to shake his head. Effortlessly, his hands on her waist, he pulled her further up his body so that they were face to face. He kissed her nose and then her mouth.

“Thank you for going,” he whispered, his voice low and his breath brushing over her lips. “I didn’t know how to get you to go without just throwing Amy at you.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Virginia admitted freely. “Thank you for asking for help. I’m going to—get help. For myself. I just need you to know that it’s not you.”

It was clear that Nolan didn’t believe her, his mouth pulling in small and his eyes squeezing shut. Virginia pushed herself between him and the back of the couch so she could comfortably put her head on his shoulder and cuddle in close.

“It might be. And that’s not… bad. I just want to know how to help properly.”

“I don’t regret being here, Nol.”

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

note: there's also another fic that i have to rework because i fully expected Patty to end up in Seattle.

[bibliocratic]

45 or 10 from the kiss prompt for JonMartin? :)

Thank you!! :D Number 10 Already posted - > Number 19, Number 26, Number 38

Broad spoilers for S5 up to 194. Content warnings in the tags

MARTIN … and that’ll be all outside, and y-you’ll be able to see them, through the glass doors at the back. […] [muzzy] Jon?

[…]

[slightly more urgent] Jon.

JON [woozy, coming to] Hmm?

MARTIN Just. [obviously relieved] Just checking.

Thought you’d lost me?

MARTIN … a bit. Yeah.

JON I’m still here. [a shifting sound of unstable brickwork] I think one of my arms has gone to sleep.

MARTIN ‘s what happens when you bring the whole building down on us. JON [mock affronted] It was a team effort, thank you. MARTIN [a small quirking laugh, trailing off into a wet-sounding cough] My mistake.

… Jon?

JON … sorry, it’s – hard. To stay awake, now the Eye’s… [a self-deprecating sound] I didn’t realise how much I needed it.

MARTIN [trying to reassure] I know. It’s… it’s OK.  [a gasping wince] Fuuuck. Jesus.

JON Try not to move too much.

MARTIN [through gritted teeth] Fantastic advice. [another grunt of pain] N-not like there’s…  [shuddering inhale] … anywhere I can go.

[the silence is sober, a conversation already had and ran dry]

JON I think I can… give me a…

MARTIN W’ are you doing?

JON I can... if I just…

[the sound of a dead-weight dragging, laboured panting, several moments of this]

[the movement stops]

Argh. That’s… that’s better.

MARTIN [pushing for light-hearted] Any – huh – any excuse for a cuddle. You’re getting dust all over me. JON You weren’t going to be moving to me, so. It’s not exactly my fault you’re more comfortable to lie on than the floor.

MARTIN High praise there, don’t – heh [wincing gasp] use up all your compliments at once.

JON [tentative] It doesn’t hurt when I…?

MARTIN No. Well, yes, but no more than the rest of it anyway.

JON I can…

MARTIN Stay. Please, Jon. I’d… I’d like you to.

JON …

Think anyone’s noticed all this mess yet?

MARTIN I mean, my guess is that Hill Top Road’ll just look like a construction site  to anyone walking past. If it worked… if everything went… went back.

JON It worked. It has to have.

MARTIN [quiet] No one is coming then.

JON No. No, it’s just us.

MARTIN Right. Right. Suppose that’s not the worst conclusion.

JON [trying to keep himself together] No. It isn’t.

[silence for a few moments.]

JON Go – go on then. What’s next?

MARTIN What’s that?

JON Before. You were talking about the house.

MARTIN Oh. Thought you’d tuned out, to be honest.

JON I was listening.

MARTIN Any changes you’d make then?

JON Bigger garden. [a shifting creak of fabric – Martin gasps, and Jon apologises] Maybe a patio area.

MARTIN [winded, recovering with effort] Very fancy.

JON All that walking we did… think we – huh – deserve to be able to sit down in some deck chairs.

MARTIN Too right. [struggling, pushing the words out harsher] Your… your go then, lazybones.

JON What do you want me to say?

MARTIN Just… Tell me about a day we’d have. Any day.

JON [soft, tragically fond and heartbroken] Alright.

[clears throat] Right. So I’m… er, I’m in the kitchen. Um, cooking I guess?

MARTIN Heh, that’s a stretch – I’ve seen your kitchen skills.

[there’s muttering, and a tired chuckle] Ha, OK, sorry, sorry – spoiling the momentum. Carry on.

JON [affectedly prim] Thank you. Right, so I’m cooking. Pasta, o-or stir fry or – something easy, quick, not too much effort. It’s been a long day at work, and I left later than usual. It’s… yes, it’s dark outside, sometime in Autumn maybe, and I’ve put the heating on full blast. You’re… you’re usually home by now, but you… [trailing off]… you… um….

MARTIN [prompting] I’m caught in traffic?

JON [pulling himself back] Y-yes. You text me earlier, t-to tell me you’d got caught at the road works coming out of town, so you’re running late.

MARTIN Silly of me not to have taken the long way round to avoid it.

JON I’ve told you that. You haven’t replied but I know you’ve read it.

MARTIN I’m too proud to tell you you’re right.

JON Heh. Yeah. [a ripped-up out sound]

MARTIN What next then?

JON Give… give me a minute. I-I, er…

MARTIN It’s alright. No rush.

JON [recovering from whatever episode has passed] OK. I’ve… I’ve got the radio on. I’m listening to some sort of talk show, and they’re going on about a political scandal of some sort.

MARTIN Tories at it again?

JON Of course. [warming to the thought] I know the commentators irritate you, so I only put it on when you’re not at home or if I know you’re working upstairs. And I – um… I’ve fed the cats, but they’re hovering around my legs hoping I drop something.

MARTIN [gently teasing] Cats plural, then? We had only had the one before.

JON They’ve multiplied.

MARTIN Hm. Our squadron of cats know you’re a soft touch, and that you’ll accidentally-on-purpose drop something.

JON I would never.

MARTIN Liar.

JON True.

The cats are hovering. And I’m thinking about… well, nothing special. The day, things I want to get done tomorrow. I’ve got a pile of marking to do, but I’m going to leave it, because it’s Friday, and you’re always telling me I need to set healthier work-life boundaries.

MARTIN I’m being listened to? A true miracle.

JON Hush. Anyway, the food… it’s a pasta bake, and it’s in the oven. And I’m tidying up because the kitchen’s messy, and then I hear your key. You’re kind of muttering loudly and I can hear you through the glass in the front door. The lock sticks sometimes, but only ever when you use it.

MARTIN [pained, words pushed through teeth] S-so we’ve a cursed door. N-nice touch.

JON …

MARTIN A-and then…?

JON You… [groaning] Christ, I’m… I’m getting really dizzy.

MARTIN Shh. I-It’s alright, it’s ok. Close your eyes, deep breaths.

JON [a series of stuttering breaths] Y-you come in. Your bag slumps heavy on the floor, I’m always telling you it’ll give you a bad back, the weight you put in that’s making the straps fray. You kick off your shoes, b-but then you set them neatly by the door, right alongside mine. And then you greet the cats and stroke them behind the ears and you fuss and coo in a silly little voice at them.

And then you – you kiss me on the cheek. Without thinking. Not – not that it doesn’t mean anything. Like you’ve… [huff] you’ve done it so many times now it’s a habit, that we’ve had the chance to make over all the years we’ve had together…

…

Martin?

MARTIN [drowsy, words slurring] K-keep going love. I’m… ‘m listening.

JON [it is audibly harder for the words to come to him, but pushing on almost desperate, voice thick] … and I kiss you back, and ask you how your day was… you have a bit of a moan. Y-you’ve wrapped your hands around me now, and you’re freezing and I tell you if you don’t let go, the dinner’s going to burn, and you tell me the tea will be just fine for another minute, and I tease and ask if you’re speaking Northern again, l-like it’s a running joke of ours – and, huh – you pretend to be offended…

And while we eat, we talk. About… about so many little nothings we’ve made into somethings, a-and…

[drained, lost] I-I can’t think of anything else.

…

Martin?

[fracturing] Martin?

[a trembling swallowed sob] Alright. ‘s alright, you rest, I-I’ll keep going. Jus’ give me a minute to catch my breath…

[harsh inhale, exhale]

[inhale, exhale]

[inhale, exhale]

[stop]

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.1

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 3700

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly. 

This is not a beginning of a steamy story; given the reason you’re hanging out in the dark, even a make-out session is honestly the last thing you want to fantasize about right now.

But that doesn’t mean that the nice stranger cannot make your day much better. 

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, attempt at humour, language

You were on the verge of screaming – or crying, you honestly weren't sure anymore. But you knew you were done. You had worked your fingers to a bone just to get here; to become a little bee in the most famous hive in Manhattan. Stark Industries. The Stark/Avengers Tower. The beacon of the New York skyline. The dream coming true.

Yeah, not so much.

You hadn't expected super-important assignments – after all, you were just an assistant to the head of one of too many departments – but God, you had not expected to be handling coffee so often. To be running ridiculous errands. Your degree from MIT should actually mean something here! If nothing else than that you were not just some pretty face and that you fucking didn’t deserve the treatment you were receiving.

And that was the root of trouble, really. You could handle making your way up, it would be tiring but not surprising, it was pretty much what you had assigned for.

But you had not assigned for the sexist comments, disgusting innuendo and for the grabby hands of your sleazy boss. Thomas Gregory was a fucking nightmare of a man and you swore that you were quitting if he called you a ‘Dollface’ or slapped your ass one more time.

And that was how you had got here, into this very moment; hiding in a dark supply closet like a creep with two cups of overpriced coffee in a cup holder and a piece of organic carob-nut muffin.

You weren't about to come out any time soon, because you simply knew your boss still would be a pig and give you yet another reason to hand in your notice and you had fucking wanted this job for so long, worked for it so hard and sacrificed too much that you just couldn't make yourself to quit no matter how much your skin cringed and your stomach rolled over every time Thomas Gregory touched you. It was so frustrating you wanted to scream.

Or cry, you still couldn't solve the dilemma. Maybe both.

You barely registered the hurried footsteps – and then the door was yanked open, you glimpsed a tall blond male figure and suddenly there was dark again. Except there was one more body in the very limited room of the closet, making you press your back onto the shelf.

Something rattled with your movement and the newcomer hissed a barely audible ‘Be quiet’ as two columns of muscles that were probably his arms framed your head leaning onto the very same shelf, so you could both fit in here.

The little order leaving his lips broke the last seal inside you. You were tired, frustrated and were receiving enough humiliation as it was, you did not need some random guy invading your hideout, barking orders.

“Look, mister, if you have any problem with me trying to make a little space for you in this tiny-ass closet, I recommend you to-”  

“Shh!” he hushed you and you thought you had never heard someone whisper so urgently; at least it sounded less bossy than before. It did not mollify you though, because this guy actually had enough impudence to-

“Don't you dare to shush me-!”

A hand went to cover your mouth and you let out an exasperated mumble of curses, while his voice continued.

“Please, just— I'm sorry, please, don't make a sound, my friend is trying to set me up and-”

Your eyes went wide and he suddenly fell silent. Before you could question his methods of shutting you up, his exclaim or the pause, and ask him to be so kind to find another closet, another male voice sounded somewhere behind the door.

“Come on, Steeeve. Man, don't be such a prude. Lillian is a great chic, okay?”

The man – the friend, you assumed – seemed annoyed and you couldn't believe that Steve had not been kidding you. He was actually hiding for the very reason he had offered you. You nodded as you heard the stranger behind the door move and the hand covering your mouth hesitantly disappeared.

“It's just a lip piercing, don't be such a tight-ass. It can actually be quite fun, you wouldn't believe what a girl can do with such thing…”

“Gross,” you commented soundlessly and you could feel your companion’s eyes burning a hole into your head in silent agreement.

“Goddammit, Steve!”

The voice and the footsteps slowly disappeared in the distance and you… you were face to face with a stranger named Steve in a limited space of a dark supply closet, his breath tickling your scalp, his cologne very much assaulting your nose; at least it was a pleasant assault.

“I'm sorry for being so rude. And thank you,” his voice caressed your hairline gently and hearing his suddenly polite tone and evaluating this whole situation, you could barely hold back a giggle all of sudden.

“You're welcome, Steve. How long has this been going on?”

“Two days-” That didn't sound too bad, he could probably take a lot more- “-at this level. With Lillian. It was Emily before that and Angelina before that. In smaller scale, it's been happening for about four months,” he recited dutifully as if he was reporting a status to his boss and this time you couldn’t help it – you giggled.

When you could feel the wounded gaze he gave you, you obediently made a sympathetic noise.

“Aww, poor you, your friend supplying you with no doubt great relationship material…”

“That’s what he said! But I don't want a relationship material. I don't want any material, not even his… one-night stand material. What does that mean anyway? These are women he's talking about, not a material-”

You let out a tiny pleased sound at his exasperation, which shut him up. You wondered if it was your turn to speak – it was hard to tell, supply-closet conversations weren't exactly your area of expertise.

“Kudos for that thinking,” you noted after short silence and the darker shadow of his figure tilted his head. “Did you try to tell him that you weren't interested…? Of course you did, why am I asking, that was a stupid question…”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, I got a little… carried away. It just… it's like talking to a brick wall.”

You hummed in sympathy again and the room fell into silence once more.

It was ridiculous how much your mind started working over hundred percent, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. The best you could do was:

“Hey, you want a cup of overpriced organic coffee? I happen to have two.”

The needy noise that let his lips was downright pornographic. Or maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, the strange environment finally getting to you.

“I knew I smelled coffee here! I thought I went completely insane.”

You couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, you knew the feeling all too well.

“Nope, your senses were not playing tricks on you. Help yourself. It should be around your left hand.” A rustling of a paper bag. “Oh. That's a carob-nut muffin – with carob instead of cocoa. You can have that too, I won't need that.”

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why are you hiding in a supply closet, with a muffin and two cups of expensive coffee nonetheless? And may I hand you one?”

“Such a gentleman. Thanks,” you murmured and accepted the cup. You weren't lying about not needing it – you wouldn't. Because you were about to quit; it was inevitable.

You sipped the warm liquid, its taste as bitter as the reason behind your actions.

“So?”

“I'm hiding from my boss.”

Your voice must have sounded terrible, because his own softened at the confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because if I bring him his coffee and muffin, he'll probably call me his good girl and— and slap my butt and-”

“I beg your pardon?” he growled, like honest to God growled, the strange sound warming your scalp.

And it was the righteous outrage in the sound he let out, the reaction that you needed, someone agreeing with you – a stranger, who wouldn’t feel obliged to do so just it was a duty of being a good friend to you – that made the levee break. Suddenly tears were streaming down your face, anger and humiliation, and your breath was hitching in embarrassing hiccups and the dark space felt so anonymous and safe at the same time that you didn't even care anymore.

“And if he does that I’ll have to– to quit, because I-I'm so fucking fed up with his dis-disgusting hands and si-sickening voice voicing his lizard thoughts a-and I ca-can't quit goddammit, I worked so fucking hard to-to get a job h-here and-”

You didn't realise your hands started trembling until the cup disappeared from them, placed back on the shelf, and a pair of much bigger and warmer hands gently enveloped yours, his body shifting just a little closer as he lost the support that had been keeping some distance between you.

“Hey, hey, shh, it's gonna be okay…” his voice washed over you soothingly, sounding almost at your ear.

Still, there was space between your bodies, a respectable distance – as respectable as possible in the limited space. It was as if he acknowledged it could make you uncomfortable – which probably wasn't exactly hard to figure out, given what you just told him.

“I'm sorry,” you sobbed and cleared your throat afterwards in attempt to compose yourself. “I didn't mean to load that on you, my problems are none of your concern-”

“Like hell they aren't. Sexual harassment on a workplace is everyone's concern, or it should be,” he grunted. His hands tightened their grip, not uncomfortably – reassuring. “This okay?”

You smiled through your tears. This Steve guy was really sweet to you. You almost forgot what it was like to be treated with respect.

“Y-yeah. Thank you for-- for asking. That was really nice.”

He huffed. “It should be a normal human decency. And I did grab you before that, sorry.”

“Something tells me you would let go if I said no more vehemently.”

“Of course I would.”

You gave him a watery smile he couldn't see and tried to calm your breathing completely. His thumb caressing your wrist helped. You wondered which department he was from; if his skills in comforting came with a job description or if he was a natural.

“Have you… have you tried to fill in a report?” he asked hesitantly, making your heart stop.

Oh yeah, you had. It had ended up in a shredder machine, because Thomas had spotted it. He had made you do it yourself, standing over you and watching, claiming the complaint had been baseless and it would pointless to hand it anyway, because he would explain the HR how it truly was. That you had made a move and he, the good father and husband he had been, politely turned you down, which turned you vengeful.

You whispered the story to Steve, your voice trembling, more tears escaping and you could immediately tell he believed you – because his grip grew steely strong, his teeth grinding.

“This is wrong. You should have never been forced to work for a man like him– objectifying you, touching you, threatening you, that's just--- you should talk to Tony,” he blurted out in the end and you frowned.

“Who's Tony?”

You had checked the whole HR department via their website when doing your research. You couldn't recall any Tony.

There was a short pause, broken by Steve's confused voice. “Stark.”

You blinked, wondering if Steve was joking. He didn't sound like he was joking, which was strange, because so far, he had seemed to be a smart and reasonable man.

“There's no way I'm scoring a meeting with Mr. Stark. And it's not like he’s dealing with things like that.”

“...Talk to Pepper then. I doubt she has bigger than zero tolerance for harassment,” he exclaimed confidently as if talking to Pepper Potts (this time you assumed whom he was talking about – did he call all of the big bosses their first name…?) was an option for a regular human being like you. Realizing that all over again though, that was tough.

“While I believe that’s her policy, it's not like I can just walk into her office.”

Steve seemed to consider that, while his thumb was still drawing patterns on your skin, almost subconsciously.

“I think you could. But if you're worried it might take a while and you’re scared to go back to your office now, let me walk you. I can explain him that every employee deserves to be treated with respect,” he offered finally, deadly serious, yet still sounding kind.

Your heart swelled. A guy you just met (in a supply closet, a good story to be narrated at parties, you supposed), suggested to help you out, no hesitation. God, wasn't he just too pure for this world?

“I… thank you, Steve. But… while you do have an impressive frame, I think it would only get worse. I think I'll just enjoy this extremely hipster coffee, which I'll later have to pay for no doubt and… and go face my boss to hand him my resignation. There are plenty jobs, right? I can as well serve coffee in a café,” you said with a sad smile, letting your hands slip from his comfortable hold.

“That's not right. Especially if you worked hard to– not to mention it's a matter of principle. You run away once and… running is a very hard habit to break,” he whispered, as if a secret, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip when the truth of his words washed over you, along with the way he spoke; with such a strong believe in principles that should stand a standard. It… he made you forgot your own trouble for a second as you let yourself get lost in him. In the way he treated you, the protector's persona, yet not forced. He had suggested you to ‘let him come with you’, not even a note of command in his approach. This was not a man seeing an opportunity to be a hero when spotting the damsel in distress; this was a man who believed in what was right and wanted to fix things that were apparently broken. You wished there were more men like him, selfishly wanting one of them to be your boss.

“And men like these – they need to be put in line,” he added darkly, snapping you from your daydreaming of a better world. “Let me come with you. I'll—I’ll help you fill in the forms, walk you to HR. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

For all the comfort the dark had offered you so far, you wished for a little bit more light now, enough to see his face, his eyes. You knew they would be burning with honesty, you were sure of it, maybe a little rage aimed at a man who dared to treat another human being the way he did.

The offer was so tempting. But just imagining the security escorting Steve from the building for wanting to help you was enough to put out the fiery need to accept. It was ridiculous to care so much about his well-being after what could be minutes of knowing him, but no one could call you out on it. And if they did, you could always play it cool with ‘matter of principles’; good people only deserved good things.

You carefully reached out, hoping to find his hand again. Your heart skipped a beat when you brushed his thigh instead, but at least his hand was right next to it. He released a surprised breath when you took it into yours, way smaller one. You bit your lip when leaning in a little, blindly trying to meet his gaze.

“You’re a good man, Steve. I’m sorry your friend is giving you a hard time, you don't deserve that – even though I'm sure he means well. If you ever want to get him off your back...” you wavered at the ridiculous idea, but hey, why the hell not, he had offered to help you out first, “you can say you're seeing someone. Give him my card. I'll confirm we're together – he seems like a kind of a guy who would check.”

Shocked breathless laugh erupted from his chest and you assumed you hit the nail on the head. You fished out one of your business cards, handing it to him and releasing his hand then.

It was time to leave and face your fate, but Steve didn't make any attempt at moving out of the closet.

In fact, he seemed to examine the card for a while and then he quietly read out your name. You gasped in surprise. How the hell could he see anything? You could barely make out his silhouette!

“How-”

“I'm used to working in dark spaces,” he muttered absently. “Would you really do that?”

Slightly taken aback he was considering your offer, you nodded, only to realize he couldn't see it--- actually, he probably could.

“I would. Hell, I think I could handle one uncomfortable dinner with your friend vetting me,” you added, slightly amused at the idea. When you could hear his shocked exhale and wanted to take it back. “I didn't mean to-”

“Let me come with you to your office,” he repeated like a broken record and you frowned at the sudden change of topic.

“What-”

“It could throw your boss off your back for long enough for you to deal with the complaint. If you would be comfortable enough to play my girlfriend for a dinner time, why not now?”

Your eyes went wide and you almost choked on air.

“I-what? I told you it would probably only make it worse-”

“It will work.”

“How can you be so-”

The door yanked open and your eyes were hit by an unpleasantly sharp light, making you squint.

“Holy-” a ridiculously familiar voice you couldn’t place breathed out. “Wilson! I found him! You’ve gotta see this!”

You wanted to see the owner of the voice, but your view was completely blocked by the broad chest of your companion.

So you at least raised your head to meet Steve face to face so to speak. You couldn’t see much, your eyes still adjusting; with the light shining from behind him, playing a mysterious game with his blond locks, framing his impressive figure, he looked like a freaking angel, beautiful and righteous, bringing justice, yet wrapped in an aura of peace and serenity. You barely kept your jaw from falling on the floor.

You kept staring, focusing on his face, and slowly started realizing that his features too, were familiar. Mortification was creeping up your back as the puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating a horrifying picture, making you wish for the Earth to swallow you.

The voice from behind Steve’s back resolved the last doubts you had about your temporary mysterious roommate.

“Wouldn’t peg you as a get-freaky-in-a-closet kind of guy, Capsicle.”

You wanted to immediately protest that you had definitely not been getting freaky in the closet, but your brain was still frozen because of the big revelation – that you had just been comforted, hell, that you had just offered to be a fake date to Captain America.

You simply stared at him, unbeing able to hold your jaw from falling anymore. Because– because-- oh god.

Now it made perfect sense that he thought Thomas Gregory would be intimidated… by the idea of harassing Captain America’s girlfriend. You couldn’t really blame Steve for being sure it would work. Also, it kinda explained why he called Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts their first names – they were on the first name basis.

Which really was the least relevant thing right now.

A bashful smile appeared on Steve’s lips, a little guilty perhaps, and you just… giggled at the absurdity. You couldn’t help it. You had just spent minutes in a supply closet with Steve Rogers without having a single clue about it and while you didn’t do anything heated as someone would assume, it was one of the most amazing minutes of your life.

You must have looked like an idiot or something, because he chuckled too, completely ignoring another male voice growing in volume as the newcomer approached.

“Holy hell, man! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”

At those words, Steve tentatively took your hand with an encouraging smile and led you out to the hall. You were met with two pairs of curious eyes examining you from head to toe. You lowered your gaze, now fully aware of the fact they belonged to Tony Stark – the Iron Man – and Samuel Wilson – the Falcon.

Well. Now the ‘party story’ finally got the right juice.

“Then don’t, Sam, because it’s not what it looks like,” Steve replied to his match-maker friend and took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tighter. “Tony, this woman would like to report harassment on her workplace.”

Your head snapped to Steve’s face with panicked gaze. What the hell was he doing?!

Tony Stark made a noise of disapproval.

“Couldn’t you try harder so she wouldn’t complain about you?”

“Tony,” Steve addressed him, his voice solemn just like his expression, which clearly surprised the billionaire. “I’m serious. It’s not about me. Her boss is the reason why she was hiding here.”

Without commenting any further, Steve handed him your business card and Mr. Stark hummed. You weren’t brave enough to look up. Was he going to wave it off? Was he going to fire you?

He said your name, making you gulp in fright. You had to look up now and you really didn’t wanna, too afraid of what you’d see. You were shocked to meet with a searching gaze, but not a mean one.

“It is true? Is your boss giving you trouble? Making sexist comments? Worse?”

You felt tears in your eyes, utterly taken aback by his sensitive tone, the inviting light in his eyes. It was too much to bear and you wanted to escape the kind gaze; and he wouldn’t let you. You only managed to nod when you felt Steve’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

Mr. Stark sighed, adding a dark ‘goddammit’, and returned Steve the business card.

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

Part 2

I know, I know, Steve is a little bit of Knight-In-Shining-Armour here, but it made sense to me O:-)

Happy weekend!

Thank you for reading!

[harriescherriess]

leaving like a father, running like water….

in which harry does the one thing he promised never to do…

switch from 1st person to 2nd person to 3rd person a lot so sorry if it’s confusing i don’t have a degree in this shit

inspo/recommend by @hrryfics

———————————————————————

“please don’t leave me” betty whispered as she curled up to harry, basking under the starlight, celebrating a whole year a whole year on earth together. in love. and happy. but no matter how much harry promised her he would always stay, she still muttered those four words that always had a way at breaking his heart. hurting for his sweet girl and whispering sweet nothings, hoping he could make her fears go away.

betty had a good childhood. at least that’s what she told herself. her definition of ‘childhood’ was always just the first 12 years of her life. before she had to realize what life really meant. before she had to realize the one man she was always supposed to trust, to love, to ask advice from, was far from the man she ever thought he was. and that was the day her childhood ended and the cruelty of life started.

———————————————————————

“please don’t leave me” she said in his ear at the party her bestfriend inez dragged her to. she didn’t wanna come, therefor she dragged harry there. he looked at her with confusion in his eyes but complied, leaving a gentle kiss on her temple and tightening his grip on her, not too hard but not too soft, reminding her that he was there. a silent promise that he would never leave.

he always did, promise not to leave. always. never once did he not reassure, out loud or in a way only they could understand. but he did it, and it was the one thing she held onto.

———————————————————————

“please don’t leave me” she pouted as he was leaving for London to shoot a new movie, she was beyond proud, no doubt about that. her lovie was not only a pop sensation, but a movie star, and also a world class cuddler who she did not want to let go off for a whole four weeks.

“i have to go my love, but i’promise i’ll be back, and i’ll even bring’ya those sweet cookies ya’like so much” she blushed and held him tighter, but not missing that fact that he did was he always did. he promised. just like he always did. all her fears washed away as she dropped him off at the airport. and as always, she said in the car under the dim streetlight, listening to his music until is plane was in the air

———————————————————————

she awoke from her sleep with a thin layer of sweat cast over her chest and face, breathing heavily and sporadically. the nightmares always seem to fade into existence when harry’s gone. each day away from his they get worse and worse. only making her fears grow.

harry immediately picked up, but his breathing matched her, heavy, as if he was out of breath. she pushed it aside as she was just happy to hear his voice. “yes?” he said as if he wanted to get the conversation over with. “h-harry?” she whispered out, barely audible. “fuck baby whats wrongs” he sounded concerned, i could hear shuffling around the room. “i-i h-had a dream about h-him” she. could braelyn finish a sentence until a sob broke loose. “i-i’m really sorry harry, fuck it m-must be l-late i’ll go. just promise y-you won’t l-leave me, okay?”

“i love you baby okay? it’s my call time i gotta go i’ll call you later. promise me you’ll be okay?”

“i’ll be okay i promise” then the call ended.

she was a smart girl. and she knew a lot of things, yea maybe she wasn’t an actor, but she knew that they don’t have call times at 4am. and she also knew that he didn’t promise her. he always promised her. but he didn’t. not this time.

when you’re young, they assume you know nothing, but betty? she knew everything.

———————————————————————

“please don’t hurt her” she yelled at her father, she had walked in on him hitting her. not just a single slap, not just a push. a punch, then a kick, then a push, then another kick, and when he went in for the last kick is when she screamed. not understanding what was going in. her parents loved each other. yea they argued sometimes but they loved each other.

“go” her mother mouthed to her “please” she mouthed again and again until betty walked out, went into her room and sank to the floor. “please don’t hurt her” she said over and over. not realizing she was shaking in the process.

———————————————————————

over the course of three weeks they barely talked. he left a couple of ‘love you’s’ but that was it.

that’s exactly what her father did. he left. never once explained him self, it’s not like she wanted to hear the explanation. but all he ever did was send a few cards here and there. each and everyone of them read “love you.” every. single. one. he thought that was enough. but it wasn’t.

———————————————————————

when inez came up to her and showed her the news article she couldn’t believe it. they were kissing. they kissed each other. and it didn’t look like acting. speaking as he was dressed in his clothes and wearing the jewelry you bought him.

you didn’t wanna believe it. you couldn’t. he promised. almost every damn day he promised. and it was harry. and you were his sweet girl. you knew he couldn’t do that. but maybe they were right when they said she knew nothing.

harry called an hour later. inez had left after trying to calm you down. you were crying hysterically. shaking and whispering “he promised. he won’t leave me he promised.”

inez couldn’t knock any sense into her. so she gave up. but betty wouldn’t never forget the rumors she heard from inez. she could barely comprehend what she had said. but deep down a part of her knew it was true.

when harry called you couldn’t answer it. you didn’t answer it. you ignored it. but you listened to the voice mail an hour later.

“some pictures got out my love. they were for a scene in the movie i promise. i love you and i’ll be back with you soon, promise”

———————————————————————

four weeks had past. the “love yous” and “miss yous” became a daily routine. she had gotten over the call. not wanting to seem crazy. not wanting to break something she longed for her whole life. but now she was at the airport. waiting for harry to come back. waiting for him to hold her, to come back to her as he promised. as she knew he would always do. but when he walked off that he wasn’t alone. he was laughing with her. and she was a little bit too handsy.

but when harry looked at her and smiled. all her thoughts and fears faded away and she ran and jumped onto, her body filled with love and eyes filled with tears. “i missed you” she whispered. “i missed your more love” he said back.

but when she looked over she saw her. standing there with a sad expression in her face. but what really broke betty was the site of her favorite sweet cookies in here hand, which prompted her to ask, “lovie did you get my cookies?”

normally it was the four word questions that broke him. but this six word one was what put it all in perspective. what he did. what he did with her. and what he had done to the one thing that he promised himself to never hurt.

“she got hungry on the plane and they were in my carry on, i’m really sorry lovie, i’ll make it up to’ya how does that sound” he said with a wink, hoping it would fix everything. but that look she gave him told him that it didn’t. and that he majorly fucked up.

“it’s okay” you murmured, not wanting to upset him or cause a scene, you slowly let go of him and faced towards her. “i don’t think we’ve met yet, i’m betty, and you’re?”

“augustine” she said sadly. betty couldn’t understand why she was possibly sad as she was eating the best cookies ever but she pushed away the thought. “nice to meet you, do you need a ride as well?”

“no” was all she said. you couldn’t sworn you saw a tear fall but you ignored it, as she immediately walked away. and after that harry really knew he fucked up.

———————————————————————

“are you leaving me” you murmured, not even bothering to hide the tears. those four words broke him more then she would ever know. but he couldn’t stay with someone when he knew he loved her more. at least he thought.

“i’m sorry” he said. “i’m leaving you and i’m sorry” and then he was gone.

he broke his promise. and he was gone.

should i make a part 2???????? well see *evil laugh* also didn’t proofread or edit and i’m sorry for all the changes in POV and narrator shit i realized half way through and didn’t feel like re-writing

edit- part 2 out nowwwww