#the words in the background of the second gif are words used to describe the ghosts in lyra's dreams

[moriwori]

𝓦ring 𝓽he 𝓦orld 𖹭───𖹭 西村 力

𝓦arnings: Angst, Lots of description

Mori's Note: This idea has been on my mind for the longest while and I wanted to put it to words and I think I did it! I don't think this will be a series, but I do plan on posting like one more fic relating to this. Enjoy!

𝓣he fan gently whirrs in the background while your body, slumped on the floor, your back curved as the rest of your body caves to the weight of the amount of pressure bending you into the box you've never quite found the escape from, a puddle of tears spread across the wooden floor beneath your cheekbones. Your head feels heavy, maybe because it is but it's never been that much of a problem, maybe it hasn't been addressed?

Continue...

Either way, it kind of hurts, you feel the thin delicate ropes of wood imprint their mark on your skin. It's gonna be there for a few hours, you hope Ni-ki doesn't mind it. Nowadays, he doesn't seem to mind anything. Maybe running away wasn't the best choice. Maybe he wanted to be with his sisters, mom, and his family in general before the inevitable. Maybe he pities so much that he just decided it all didn't matter as he'd be evaporate into nothing. You felt utterly pathetic, if there was a word to describe the extent of your patheti-sism you wish it could be created just this second before everyone died a very very horrible death.

The fan cranes over to your frame still on the floor with the shirt you went to sleep with last night. It's white, flimsy, and baggy with two stains on either side of your armpits. Each time you so much as to turn a certain way you feel the wet spots, now cold after marinating in the air, hit your armpit stubble which always comes as an unpleasant shock especially with it being summer.

"Y/N? I got what you wanted." He pauses, he's must've spotted you on the floor. He hates to see you like this, he understands but he yearns for romance and your usual glow he used to bask in each and every day even when the day brought failing marks or detentions, you were still there, waiting for him, to hold his hand and tell him about everything that happened that day. He leaves the two bags of groceries at the door, you hear him approaching yet you remain as you were. Still and unmoved. He steps over your body and settles himself in the way of your view of the fan.

"What's going on with you? Where have you gone?" His hands still adorn the bracelet made of daises a day ago at the park while they cup your cheek. An essence of a smile played on his face while shifting his body to lay with you pressing a kiss to your cheeks. "Awe, stop being so mopey. We're here together and I for one think that's as good ws it's gonna get—" He interjected himself regretting the way he worded "I..I didn't mean it like that. I meant that it's like kinda cool to hang out—?" Before he went on an hour long tangent about what he meant when he said what he said only moments ago which you were now forgetting, maybe because of the headache you were having at the moment.

[casualavocados]

Behind him there were other figures, even more shadowy than he was, even more silent. They seemed to be of the same company and of the same kind, but they had no faces that were visible and no voices that spoke; [...] Roger's face was different. His expression was the only one that contained hope. She said, "Why d'you look like that? Why en't you miserable, like them? Why en't you at the end of your hope?" And he said, "Because you're Lyra."

HIS DARK MATERIALS | Season 3 — THE AMBER SPYGLASS

[goldfades]

SCREAM QUEENS──NICHOLAS CHAVEZ

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for this request!

─ summary | after filming Scream with cooper and nicholas, you and nicholas develop a slow-burn romance filled with subtle tension.

─ pairing | nicholas chavez x fem!actress!reader, platonic!cooper koch x fem!actress!reader

─ warnings | sooo sweet and soft!! literally nothing except fluff and a few kisses at the end.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The red carpet glistens under the flashing lights of countless cameras, and the hum of excited voices fills the air like an electric current. The Scream premiere is your first big debut in a film of this scale, and it feels like you're stepping into another world. Your breath catches slightly as you look up at the towering poster of your character, Sydney, splashed across the theater behind you. It’s surreal.

You smooth your dress—a deep, rich burgundy that makes you feel powerful, but in a quiet way, like you're not here to scream but to be heard when it matters. A few feet away, Nicholas stands in his sleek suit, posture rigid yet calm, looking every bit like he belongs. Stoic, as always. But there’s something in the way his eyes shift toward you when he thinks no one’s watching—a softness, a quiet admiration hidden behind his mask of indifference.

Next to him, Cooper is an absolute ball of energy, talking animatedly with an interviewer, his hands gesturing wildly as he laughs, completely unrecognizable from the unnerving, cold-blooded Stu he portrayed in the movie. His warmth is contagious, and you can’t help but smile, even though you’re more used to blending into the background at events like these. Still, this is your night too.

The interviewer finally reaches you, and your stomach flutters—not from nerves, but from the anticipation of sharing this moment. "How does it feel to be a part of such an iconic horror franchise?" they ask, their microphone hovering in front of you.

You glance at Nicholas briefly, his lips curling into the tiniest of smiles as if he’s silently encouraging you to take the lead. The smallest gesture, but you catch it. You always do. You gather your thoughts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in.

"It’s… unreal," you start softly, your voice measured. "Scream changed the game, and being a part of that—it's hard to describe. It’s like stepping into a legacy, but also bringing something new."

You pause for a second, letting the weight of your words settle, and then continue. “It’s not just about stepping into Sydney’s shoes—it’s about understanding her fear, her resilience. Horror is… more than just jumpscares. It’s psychological, it’s emotional. It’s about survival, and I think that’s what makes Scream different.”

As you speak, you feel the lights and the noise around you blur into the background. Your focus is on the moment, on articulating what’s been buzzing in your mind ever since you landed the role. Sydney was never just a scream queen—she was a fighter, an anchor in the madness, and playing her was like learning how to channel that same strength in yourself.

The interviewer nods, visibly impressed, and moves on to Nicholas. You shift slightly, glancing at him as he takes a steady breath. His expression is the perfect picture of composure, but you can tell from the slight twitch of his fingers that he’s thoughtful about what to say.

“Well, Billy’s not exactly the hero,” Nicholas begins, a small chuckle escaping his lips, eyes narrowing with that subtle sharpness that made him perfect for the role. “But I think what’s interesting about him—and about the film as a whole—is the way it plays with the audience’s expectations. Horror has always been about tension, about twisting what you think you know. Scream does that, but on a deeper level. Billy’s... manipulative, sure, but there’s a layer of humanity there, buried under all that chaos. And that’s what makes him so terrifying. You don’t just hate him—you understand him.”

He doesn’t say much, but his words settle like a weight in the air, his voice low and reflective. You’ve always admired that about him, the way he can strip away all the noise and say something that matters, something you’ll still be thinking about long after the conversation ends.

And then, of course, there’s Cooper.

The moment Nicholas finishes, Cooper bounds into the spotlight, his energy bright and overwhelming, making everyone laugh before he’s even answered the question. “Oh man, playing Stu was wild,” he says, shaking his head with a grin that’s far too friendly for someone who spent the entire movie butchering people. “I had to turn off my brain to even think like him. I’m pretty much the opposite in real life, so going to that dark place took some effort.”

He laughs again, carefree, but you’ve seen it—the way he can flip a switch when the cameras roll. One moment, he’s this ball of sunshine, cracking jokes and keeping the mood light, and the next, his eyes go cold, his smile sinister. It’s what made his portrayal of Stu so chilling, so disturbingly real.

“But honestly, I think the best part was working with these two,” Cooper continues, throwing an arm around both you and Nicholas in one smooth motion. “We were like family on set. Every scene, every rehearsal, we got closer. There’s this... chemistry we developed that I think really translates on screen.”

You feel a flush of warmth at his words. Cooper’s enthusiasm has always been infectious, and you can’t help but nod in agreement, even if you’re not as loud about it as he is. The connection between the three of you—Nicholas, Cooper, and you—had been undeniable, a sort of unspoken understanding that had only grown stronger as filming went on.

The interviewer seizes on that. “It sounds like you all bonded a lot on set. Can you talk more about your dynamic? What was it like working together?”

You’re about to respond, but Cooper jumps in first, unable to help himself. “Oh, totally! It was a blast. I mean, there were some intense scenes, obviously—especially for Nick and her,” he says, nodding at you. “But between takes? We’d be laughing, hanging out, keeping it light. It’s the only way to survive a horror film without going crazy yourself, right?”

Nicholas smirks, leaning into the moment with his usual understated charm. “Yeah, Cooper’s energy definitely kept things interesting.” There’s that subtle warmth again in his tone, a softness in the way he talks about you both. “I think we balanced each other out in a lot of ways. You”—he nods toward you again—"you brought this quiet focus, and I think it rubbed off on me. It’s easy to get lost in a role like Billy, but watching you... I learned how to ground myself.”

The compliment, though wrapped in his usual casual delivery, sends a faint flush up your neck. Nicholas had never been one for big declarations, but when he did speak, it was always with meaning, as if he had chosen each word carefully, deliberately.

You find your voice again, wanting to contribute before the moment passes. “I think we each brought something different to the table,” you add softly, your gaze flicking between them. “Cooper has this incredible energy that keeps everything light, but he can flip a switch when it’s time to get serious. And Nicholas...” You pause, considering. “He’s... steady. There’s this calmness about him that keeps you anchored, even when the scenes get intense. It’s hard to explain, but it made working with him feel... safe.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something in Nicholas’s eyes—a glimmer of appreciation, though it’s fleeting, quickly hidden behind his usual cool demeanor. But you catch it. You always do.

The interviewer, sensing the dynamic between the three of you, smiles warmly. “It sounds like you all formed a pretty tight-knit group. That’s rare in an industry like this.”

Cooper nods enthusiastically. “Oh, for sure. We’re stuck with each other now,” he jokes, but the sincerity behind his words is unmistakable. “I mean, how could we not? We’ve been through the trenches together.”

You smile, unable to suppress the warmth that floods through you. He’s right. Despite the long nights, the emotionally draining scenes, and the weight of stepping into such iconic roles, the bond you’ve formed with these two has been something special—something real.

As the interview wraps up, you take a step back, letting Cooper and Nicholas finish with their final thoughts. The night isn’t over yet—the premiere still looms ahead, and there are more cameras, more questions waiting. But for a moment, in the midst of the chaos, you feel a deep sense of gratitude. For the film, for this experience, but mostly for them.

For the way Nicholas’s steady presence has become a quiet comfort, his admiration for you evident in the smallest of gestures. For the way Cooper’s energy has pulled you out of your shell, making you laugh, making the hard days bearable.

And as you glance at them both, standing under the glow of the premiere lights, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Something subtle, yet undeniable.

───

“—that is not what happened, and you know it.” Cooper sighed dramatically as he glanced your direction, a mock upset settled on his face as you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Nicholas watches the two of you, amusement clear in his expression.

You settle into the couch as you shrug, letting a small laugh escape your lips. "Okay, fine," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Maybe I don't remember it exactly the way you do, but come on, Cooper, you were the one who started it."

Cooper gasps, clutching his chest dramatically like he’s been mortally wounded. "I started it? Oh no, no. Let’s be real here. You and Nicholas were the ones conspiring against me from day one!"

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Conspiring? That’s a bit dramatic, Coop.”

The host of the podcast, a friendly guy with a genuine smile, watches all of this unfold with a look of amusement, clearly enjoying the easy chemistry between the three of you. “So wait, wait. What exactly did happen on set? I need to know who’s telling the truth here.”

You lean back into the couch, crossing your arms playfully as you glance between Cooper and Nicholas. "Oh, this is good," you say, your eyes lighting up with the memory. "You tell him, Nick. I think you’ve got the best perspective here."

Nicholas, always the picture of calm, shakes his head slightly, clearly entertained by the chaos unfolding between you and Cooper. "Alright," he says, his voice steady but with a hint of amusement. "Here’s the real story. Cooper, as usual, was trying to lighten the mood between takes. It was one of those intense scenes—you know, where Billy and Stu are supposed to be... doing their thing."

Cooper jumps in, unable to help himself. "You mean brutally stabbing people?"

Nicholas just gives him a look, unfazed. “Yes. That. Anyway, Cooper decided to improvise a little—”

“A little?” you interject with a laugh. “He completely threw the script out the window!”

Cooper grins, not remotely ashamed. "Hey, I was trying to make everyone laugh! It was a tense day, okay? I thought Billy needed to lighten up. Maybe do a TikTok dance between stabs. You know, just to mix things up."

Nicholas rolls his eyes good-naturedly, the smallest chuckle escaping him. “Needless to say, it didn’t go over well with the director.”

“Or anyone else on set,” you add, giggling at the memory of Cooper’s ridiculous, over-the-top dance moves while still in full Stu costume.

Cooper holds his hands up defensively. “Alright, fine. It was a bold choice. But you two were laughing! Don’t try to deny it. I saw you both.”

Nicholas’s expression softens, and he nods. “I’ll give you that. You definitely broke the tension.”

The host laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun on set, despite the heavy material. How do you balance that, being in such a dark, intense movie but still having this kind of dynamic off-screen?”

You exchange a look with Nicholas and Cooper, your smile softening a bit as you think back on the experience. "I think it’s because we had to," you say thoughtfully. “When you’re dealing with a film like Scream—where you’re surrounded by horror and violence every day—it’s easy to let that weight stick with you. So we found ways to break it up, to remind ourselves that we’re just playing characters, that we don’t have to carry that darkness with us.”

Cooper nods along, his usual high energy subdued for a moment as he listens to you speak. “Yeah, exactly. And it helps when you’re working with people you trust, you know? Like, we got along so well from the beginning, so it made everything easier. Even on the tough days, I knew I could look at you guys and just... snap out of it.”

Nicholas glances at you, his expression a little more serious now. “There’s a lot of trust involved, especially with a film like this. You have to trust that the people around you are going to be there, not just as actors, but as friends. And we built that over time.”

You smile at him, grateful for the sincerity in his words. He may be quiet, but when he speaks, it always feels intentional, like there’s weight behind everything he says. And in moments like this, you’re reminded of just how much you appreciate that about him.

The host shifts in his seat, leaning forward. “That’s great to hear. It really shows on screen—the chemistry, the dynamic between you three. So, what’s next? I mean, after Scream, where do you go from here?”

Cooper jumps in again, back to his usual lively self. “Well, I think we should all do a rom-com next, right? Something light, something fluffy. Get away from all the blood and guts.”

You laugh, the idea of the three of you in a rom-com so absurd it’s actually kind of appealing. “Oh yeah, I can totally see Nicholas as the romantic lead.”

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed by the suggestion. “I don’t know about that. I think I’ll stick to horror.”

“Stoic, mysterious guy,” Cooper teases, leaning forward dramatically, pretending to narrate. “He’s hiding a dark secret, but deep down, he’s just a big softie.”

You and the host burst out laughing, and even Nicholas can’t help but crack a smile. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. “Maybe one rom-com.”

The host grins, looking between the three of you. “I would definitely pay to see that.”

The interview wraps up soon after, the room filled with easy laughter and lingering energy as you stand from the couch. You, Nicholas, and Cooper thank the host, chatting amongst yourselves as the podcast crew wraps up.

As you head toward the door, Cooper slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. "Next time, we do the rom-com," he says with a wink. “We can be the love interests and... Nick can just be there. I’ll start writing the script tonight.”

Nicholas falls into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with that familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll leave that to you, Cooper.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

After the interview wraps up and the bright lights of the studio fade behind you, the three of you pile into Cooper’s car. He’s talking a mile a minute, still buzzing from the podcast, hands waving animatedly as he drives.

“Man, that was fun. Did you hear how the host lost it when we started talking about the rom-com? I think we should seriously pitch that,” he jokes, throwing you a wink in the rearview mirror.

You laugh, leaning against the window in the back seat, the city passing by in a blur of neon and headlights. “You’re never going to let this rom-com thing go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Cooper replies, grinning. “We’d crush it. But first…” He slows the car as you approach Nicholas’s place. “How about we just hang out for a bit? Relax, watch a movie or something.”

You glance at Nicholas, who’s sitting quietly in the passenger seat, his eyes focused on the road ahead. He nods slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, that sounds good. It’s been a long day.”

Cooper pulls up to the curb, parking in front of Nick’s apartment. “Alright, I’ll grab the snacks, you two go ahead. I’ll catch up in a sec.”

You and Nicholas exchange a look as you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you walk up to his place, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you.

Inside, the atmosphere feels different—quieter, more intimate than the usual chaos of set or interviews. Nicholas’s apartment is minimalistic but warm, with soft lighting and a collection of books and records scattered about, telling more about his quiet, thoughtful nature than he’d ever openly admit.

You slip off your shoes at the door, glancing around as Nicholas sets down his keys and heads to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?” he asks, his voice casual but soft, like it always is when it’s just the two of you.

“Water’s fine,” you reply, following him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he pours a glass. There's something unspoken hanging between you, an undercurrent of energy that’s been building for a while now—something neither of you has acknowledged out loud, but it lingers, making your every interaction feel just a little more charged than it used to be.

Nicholas hands you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. You feel the jolt of electricity, the way your skin warms under his touch, and you quickly look away, pretending not to notice the way your heart beats a little faster.

He leans against the counter beside you, his shoulder just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “Today was fun,” he says quietly, his voice low in the soft glow of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking up at him, your gaze catching his for a second too long. “It was. It always is when we’re all together.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just holds your gaze with those steady eyes of his, and you can feel the tension growing, thickening the air between you. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s the kind of tension that makes your skin buzz, that fills the quiet with unspoken words, words you’ve both been too careful to say.

The front door swings open, breaking the moment as Cooper strolls in with a bag of snacks. “I’m back! Got the goods!” he calls, completely unaware of the quiet, charged moment he’s just interrupted.

You and Nicholas both turn away, the spell broken, but that energy doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, hanging in the air as Cooper throws himself onto the couch, oblivious as ever. “Alright, what are we watching?” he asks, rummaging through the bag. “Something funny, I hope. Or... maybe Scream?” He shoots you both a mischievous grin.

Nicholas chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I think we’ve had enough Scream for one day.”

“Agreed,” you say, settling onto the couch next to Cooper, grateful for the distraction but still hyper-aware of Nicholas as he joins you, sitting a little closer than usual on your other side.

You all end up picking a lighthearted comedy, something easy to watch without much thought, but your mind isn’t fully on the movie. The whole time, you can feel Nicholas beside you, his presence magnetic, pulling at you without even trying. Every now and then, your knee brushes his, and even the smallest touch sends a ripple of awareness through you, as if your body is attuned to his in a way you can’t quite explain.

Cooper, true to form, falls asleep halfway through the movie, his head dropping back against the cushions as soft snores escape him. You and Nicholas exchange a glance, both trying to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Nicholas murmurs, his voice low in the darkened room. “He was the one who wanted to hang out, and he’s the first one out.”

You smile, your heart skipping a beat at how close his voice sounds, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet. “He always does this.”

Nicholas leans back, his arm stretching casually along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. The touch is light, barely there, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension building again, heavier this time, as if the universe is pushing the two of you closer, daring you to acknowledge what’s been simmering between you for months.

You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and he’s already looking at you, his expression softer, more open than usual. There’s something in his gaze, something unguarded, like he’s letting you see just how much he cares. The realization makes your breath catch.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You okay?”

You nod, but your heart is racing, and you’re not sure if it’s the quiet or the closeness, or the fact that, for once, it feels like the unspoken tension between you might finally break.

“I’m good,” you say softly, your voice catching a little, and you feel his eyes on you, searching.

For a moment, the world outside the apartment doesn’t exist. There’s just you and Nicholas, the space between you shrinking with every second, and it feels like you’re both standing at the edge of something, something that could change everything.

Nicholas doesn’t break eye contact, and neither do you. The air in the room feels thick, almost electric, as if the space between you is charged with something both of you have been too careful to admit. His arm rests casually on the back of the couch, but his fingers twitch slightly, brushing the barest edge of your shoulder. The touch is subtle, but it’s enough to send a ripple through you—a pulse of heat that spreads from where his skin meets yours.

You swallow, trying to keep your breathing steady, but you can’t ignore the way your heart races, thudding in your chest like it’s trying to communicate something your mind hasn’t fully processed yet.

Neither of you says a word, and yet, everything is being said in the silence between you. There’s a pull, an invisible string tugging you closer, and for the first time, it feels like maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so impossible to cross that line.

Nicholas shifts slightly, turning his body more toward you, and you realize just how close you are now. His leg brushes yours again, this time lingering. His eyes are darker in the low light of the room, his usual calm and controlled demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, something he’s usually so good at hiding.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carries weight, like he’s asking more than just about how you’re feeling in this moment. He’s asking if you’re ready, if you’re willing to let whatever this is between you two finally come to the surface.

You nod, your mouth dry, unable to trust your voice to respond. Your heart is pounding, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of space between your bodies—or lack thereof.

His hand moves from the back of the couch, sliding down slowly, deliberately, until his fingers are resting on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if testing the waters. You don’t pull away. In fact, you lean in just a fraction, closing the distance, and you see the shift in his expression—his guarded facade softening as his breath hitches slightly.

It’s so quiet in the room now, save for the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. You can feel the tension building, thick and palpable, wrapping around the two of you like a thread that’s been pulled tight, ready to snap at any second.

He tilts his head, just the slightest bit, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. It’s a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it feels like the ground beneath you is shifting.

You lean in, your breath catching in your throat, and for a second, everything else falls away—the interview, the movie, even Cooper snoring softly on the other side of the couch. It’s just you and Nicholas, and the space between you feels like it’s vanishing.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, his touch impossibly gentle, and you feel your breath falter as your heart skips a beat. He’s so close now that you can see the way his pupils have dilated, the soft rise and fall of his chest matching your own.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

You shake your head, barely able to manage the words, “Don’t stop.”

And with that, the tension that’s been simmering between you for months finally breaks. He closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, tentative, as if he’s still giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You lean into the kiss, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. His lips are warm and soft, and you can feel the unspoken words behind the way he holds you, the way his hand slips to the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer. There’s a gentleness to the kiss, but also a hunger—a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more intense. The world around you falls away entirely, and all that matters is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathing heavily, the room around you still thick with the weight of what just happened. You don’t say anything at first—there’s no need to. The look in his eyes says everything.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Nicholas finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your heart still racing. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of quiet between you again, but this time, it feels different—less tense, more comfortable, like something has finally clicked into place. Nicholas watches you with that same look of admiration, the one you’ve caught glimpses of before but never fully allowed yourself to acknowledge. Now, it’s out in the open, undeniable.

Slowly, he leans in again. The kiss is slow, unhurried and easy. He hums at the taste of your lips, your hands reached up for his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. You both part after a moment, opening your eyes to meet his darkened eyes.

“Knew it.” Cooper rings out, his voice groggy and tired.

You both snap your heads toward Cooper, your bodies still close, as if you’re caught in the middle of a secret you thought no one else knew. He’s sitting up, rubbing his eyes lazily, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he watches you.

“Fucking knew it,” he repeats, his voice groggy but teasing, clearly amused by the moment he’s woken up to. His eyes narrow slightly, a knowing glint in them as he looks between you and Nicholas. “You two think you’re so slick, huh?”

You feel a flush creep up your neck, the heat of embarrassment mixing with the adrenaline still pulsing through you from the kiss. Nicholas tenses beside you, his jaw tightening for a split second before he exhales, leaning back slightly but keeping an arm casually draped around you.

“Cooper…” Nicholas begins, his voice steady but with a hint of exasperation.

“What? I’m just saying,” Cooper continues, throwing up his hands defensively, but the grin never leaves his face. “It’s about time. Thought I was gonna have to give you two a nudge.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Cooper, being Cooper, doesn’t seem fazed by anything, and it’s almost a relief that he’s not taking this too seriously. You can feel the tension easing out of Nicholas, too, his posture relaxing as he shakes his head.

“Were you even asleep?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at Cooper, trying to divert the attention away from the blush still lingering on your cheeks.

Cooper snickers, leaning back into the couch like he’s settling in for a good story. “Oh, I was out. But I guess I woke up just in time for the good part.”

Nicholas groans lightly, rubbing a hand over his face, but there’s a small, amused smile playing on his lips. He glances at you, a soft look in his eyes, and even with Cooper’s teasing, you can still feel that unspoken connection between the two of you—stronger now, undeniable.

“Well, now that you're awake,” Nicholas says, standing up and stretching, his hand lingering on your back for a moment before he lets go, “you wanna order food?”

Cooper grins, sitting up straighter. “Oh, I see. Change the subject. Nice try, man. But yeah, I could eat.”

You laugh, standing up as well, the warmth of Nicholas’s earlier touch still lingering on your skin. Despite Cooper’s teasing, there’s a lightness in the room now, like something that had been building for so long has finally settled. The moment between you and Nicholas wasn’t lost—it’s just the beginning.

As you walk to the kitchen with Nicholas, Cooper still muttering something under his breath about “finally,” you exchange a quick, knowing glance with Nicholas, and the spark that lit up between you earlier remains. There’s no rush. Whatever this is, it’s yours, and it’s just getting started.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[mlm-writer]

Aftertaste (Eddie & Venom x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Eddie Brock & Venom x Gender Neutral Bottom Reader Rating: Mature for discussion of sex Words: 918 POV: Second Summary: After some kinky sex (<- click for the prequel), Eddie and Venom take care of you. Oh and Eddie experiences some mild dom drop. Note: Guess who's back? Back again? Gayden's back! Tell a friend! Tags: aftercare, dom drop, hurt & comfort, cuddling, could be read as romantic, could be read as you're fwb and reader's physical appearance is not described

A trail of cum connected the corner of your mouth with the puddle of cum on the tiles below your cheek. At the start of the evening, those tiles had been cold, but underneath you they have been warmed by your spent body. With the post-orgasm bliss fading into the background, you started noticing the soreness settling in your muscles. A warm hand gentle pushed your hair to the side and out of your eyes. In the dim light, you could see warm, concerned eyes staring down at you. “Are you with me?” Eddie spoke between laboured breaths. You licked his cum off the corner of your lips and smiled at him. “Good,” he added when he understood your non-verbal signal. He seemed relieved, smiling down at you with awe and surprise. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a towel appeared next to Eddie. However you could still spot the black tendril holding it up by a corner. Eddie took it and folded it up. He lifted your head and wiped your face with one side, before placing it under your face with the other side up. You could feel wet tendrils squeezing between your skin and all the duct tape restricting your movement. The sticky tape came off easily with Venom’s gentle wriggling, leaving no redness on your skin nor taking any hairs from your flesh. Once freed, you stretched your legs out, ending up face down on the floor. “That can’t be comfortable,” Eddie commented. 

“Let us carry you to the couch,” Venom softly mused in your ear. You hummed in reply, bracing yourself. Eddie and Venom merged into one and Eddie’s warm hands wormed their way under your body. He rolled you over and then carried you bridal style to the couch, where a blanket was already waiting for you. Venom’s tendrils wrapped the old fleece blanket around your bodies, protecting you from the chill in the apartment. “You must drink,” the symbiote commanded. He materialised another appendage to somehow make grabbing a glass of water a very perilous and loud endeavour. You thanked him when he eventually got the glass to you. You meant to sip on it, but in just a few seconds, the glass was empty. Venom put the empty glass on the coffee table for you. “Are you feeling satisfied now?” 

You chuckled at Venom’s word choice. “Very much so, Venom. Thank you.” You rested your head on Eddie’s shoulder. “What about the two of you?” Your question was met with a long pause. “Eddie?” You twisted your neck to look at his face. He was clearly thinking of something, but whatever that brain was cooking up, he was not sharing it with you at the moment. 

“Eddie, why are we feeling… guilty?” Venom’s voice was unusually small. It must be bad to affect Venom this much. You reached back, scratching gently at his scalp. Now you were paying attention, you could feel how tense Eddie’s muscles were under you. 

“Talk to me, Eddie,” you whispered as you moved underneath the blanket to straddle his lap. He avoided your eyes at first, but your hand resting at the back of his neck got him comfortable enough to really look at you. It felt like he was staring into your soul for the answers to questions he didn’t dare ask. He took a deep breath, before finally speaking up. 

“You really liked…” He waved his hand in the air as he tried to formulate words that were family-friendly enough that he could get them out of his mouth. That man fucking you within an inch of your life was nowhere to be found. “You liked us going back and forth, right? Like actually, for real?” He looked at you through his lashes. You huffed out a relieved augh and nodded eagerly. “Okay… okay good,” he huskily spoke between weighted breaths. 

You cupped his face and made him look at you. “Hey, Eddie, look at me.” You exaggerated your breathing, showing him slow, deep breaths. Eddie followed suit, following your breathing pattern. “Good boy,” you teased him once he no longer seemed like he was going to crawl out of his own skin and hide in the corner. You kissed his nose and caressed his face. “If I think too much about it, yeah the going back and forth was fucking filthy, but that kind of made it hot? And there is nothing wrong with that.” Eddie seemed to agree with you. A few deep breaths and he could nod more confidently. You leaned against his body, resting your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a while, until you thought too much about the wild sex you just had. “Ok, I am ready to brush my teeth now and gargle some mouthwash.” 

Eddie chuckled and helped free you from the fleece blanket. “Need any help?” He offered as he watched you stand up. There was dried cum on your body, your skin still glistening with sweat and your hair a wild mess. He wanted to burn that image in his mind. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and cocked up an eyebrow. “Why? Think I don’t know how a toothbrush works?” When you saw how your words pulled Eddie from his trance, you chuckled. He opened his mouth to probably tell you that was not what he meant, but your smile told him you knew. You shook your head in amusement and left Eddie on the couch. “See you space cowboy.” 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure! A comment in tags or replies can prevent writer's block, even if the work is a decade old (not that I have works on here that are that old)!

[larapeachsstuff]

"A needed Relief "

Silcoxf!reader oneshot

Warnings: smut (MDNI), 18+, sex scenes, consensual sex, established relationship.

Summary: After a shitty day and a failed experiment, Silco returns to his office to find a way to release his tension.

3k words

Silco's Pov

Shit, shit, shit. Just mere shit.

That is how Silco would have described the day that's just passed. Nothing went accordingly to the plan and the results left him with a bunch of dead bodies and more problems. The security check of the newest invention of Singed was supposed to go smoothly, the doctor did say to him that the new creature would have been mentally stable, not like the last time. As soon as the beast was released from its cage, it attacked the two guards around the doctor, killing them almost instantly and went straight to Silco. The minimal brutal force of the beast was enough to throw the man on the other side of the room, causing his back to collide with the solid rock wall. The air left his lungs after the impact, his good eye went black for a few seconds and his eyesight was totally compromised.

Silco was used to violence and finding himself in difficult situations has always been part of the routine, since he worked as a miner. His body reacted with automatic and calculated moves, grabbing the gun tied to his thigh and firing at the creature. The bullet went right trought its left eye, but the monster did stop for just a fraction of second before continuing his charge against the man. Silco grabbed the knife as a final decision, if he was going down, he wouldn't have gone without a fight. Moments before the impact, a flash passed before his eyes and an hurting memory was enough to take his feet off the floor and attack the creature with an enormous adrenaline rush. The memory was something distant but beared in his mind in an indelible way, like a large scar inside his heart. Two pair of hands suffocating him, keeping his head under velenous waters, which were already eating alive his damaged left eye. The sight of a friend's face, once so close and so brotherly loved, now transformed into something horrendous and atrocious.

The rush of adrenaline caused by the hurtful memory was the last thing needed by the man to assault the beast with the knife in one hand and the gun in the other, with a scream that contained all his hate and a primal attachment to life, Silco jumped.

The landing was unexpected, given the fact that the man found himself on the floor on the other side of the room. Looking at his left, a surprising yet appreciated vision caused a little satisfied smile to form on his face, glad to see his second in charge doing her job. "And in a wonderful way", he thought.

Sevika was on the beast and her mechanical arm was buzzing, busy with the amputation of the monster's head.

"Thank Janna, she was there..." thought Silco, before turning to Singed.

While in the background some horrendous noises were still going on, Silco kneeled down at the same level of the doctor.

"Next time, make its goddam brain at least a bit normal and manageable... or you'll end up as that mass of shimmer and shit". Singed turned his head to see Sevika, busy getting the violaceus blood off her arm. With a grin, the woman looked at the doctor and pointed her knife at him.

"Let's return to the Last Drop, Sevika. We'll see each other the next week, doctor, and I'll be waiting for better results". Slamming the door behind her, Sevika and Silco left the place.

-------------------------------------------------------

Finding himself outside his office, the man esitates a bit before opening the door, hearing some noise inside the room. Silco grabs the gun with his free hand one more time today, rethinking his life choices for once. With a big sigh, the man opens the door with a kick and points the gun ahead of him, moving his head from left to right to find the intruder.

And then, behind his desk, enlightened by the big greenish window on one side of the room, the chair turns to reveal a sight that immediately relaxes his sore shoulders and makes him drop his arms.

"Hi, why are you here?" Silco says with a tired voice, letting the gun down.

Silco leaves the spot at the door to go near the figure and, as he approach, his lungs fills with her perfume, causing his body to relax as he set his eyes on the girl sitting on the chair. He cannot resist but think how his life has changed since the two of you encountered during his research for the creation of shimmer. Singed was definitely the main author of the project and the drug, but also her contribution had been essential in the creation of the empire of Zaun.

Silco's nights were not anymore hours of interminable pain and regret, or planification for the next attack, the next drug deal, the next money exchange. During the nights in which he let himslef rest for more than a few hours, her company was like fresh air compared to the filthy and toxic one of Zaun. She was his rock, his safe harbour were he could let himself being vulnerable, even though Silco was not used to let himself go off completely, being always alert of every possible problem and danger.

"Is that the way to say that you have missed me, for not having seen me in days?" The girl say with a frown on her face and a slightly hirritated tone. "Thank you so much, Sil".

Hearing her tone and the nickname, a bit of guilt starts to hug the man's heart and with a sigh he places his arms around her chest, leaving the gun on the desk and resting his face in between her head and shoulder.

"Sorry, darling, my day was shitty as hell, and I am not in a good mood. But I am sorry for the way I talked to you." Silco was still learning to control his anger and was trying not to target it against his loved one, being her not responsible for any of his trouble. It was just the hard work of every day and the lack of sleep, probably. "How was your day? Better than mine indeed" says the man, plopping himself on the couch, finding a comfortable position for his sore back.

"Mhhh, I didn't do much today, rest day. But I helped the little Jinx with her project. She goes around and paints everything that comes in her sight. Look what she did for you!" the girl says, handing over to him his ashtray, now coloured in bright pink with blue lines.

"Looks good, darling. Come here, sit with me, please. " Doing as he asks, the obedient girl sits herself near him on the old couch of the office, letting one arm resting on her legs, while with the other one, she starts strocking his hair. "I am so grateful when you help me with the little one, a hand is always useful and I am trying to be the best for her and to teach her the way of the world, but it is not always so easy. This world is a cruel place, and if she doesn't understand her place and gains power, she'll be devoured by the city itself. The meeting today with Singed was shit and everything went wrong. I have to find a solution if the old man doesn't find one." Silco speaks with a low groan in his voice, letting his hand rest on his forehead, sensing the approaching headache that will keep him up all night.

Thanks Janna, there was Sevika saving my ass, but it was something he would never admit to anyone.

"I am sorry, Sil. Do you want me to alleviate the pain a bit?" The girl says, lifting a bit up her figure from the couch. "You know my methods always works with you".

Being in a relatively long relationship, Silco knows what the girl is up to and the mischievous look in her eyes can mean just one thing. Anchoring his multicolored eyes to her face and watching deeply into hers, Silco answers:

"Daddy would be so proud if the little darling would help with the pain"

Without esitation, the girl lifts herself from the couch, sitting right into his lap, legs spread apart and hands on his chest to let an illusion of space between them. Silco is not surprised by the sudden action, his growing desire starts to burn into his chest and without any hesitation, one of his hands goes to rest on the lower back of the girl, while the other one goes for her hair, strocking gently the back of her head.

"Nice initiative, darling. What are you gonna do now that you find yourself in this position?" Silco wasn't so acquainted with being submissive, and the position he was in wasn't helping his frustration and will to have control over something, having just experienced a very shitty day. "I'll let you have five minutes of control, little one, just 'cause I feel generous today. Do your best with the time I give you".

The girl doesn't wait another second and starts to kiss Silco. The encounter of his mouth with hers is the final need of the man before letting it all go, allowing the relax to enter his body and with a deep sigh, he finally feels safe, with tha arms of his darling all around him. The taste of her lips is like liquid honey to him, something one would like to taste all day and all night, but the empire of Zaun won't be build in just one day and the city needs to be guarded and guided by the man. A little sense of what can be similar to sadness starts to arise from his chest, sensing some guilt for the numerous nights in which Silco must work and isn't able to fulfill his duty of boyfriend. The eternal sleepless nights, lived behind piles of papers and letters, while the girl sleeps alone in his bed, is something that hunts him in moments like that, when he can relax.

But Silco is not used to let such emotions take control of his heart, mind and body and the reaction is not late to arrive.

Wanting more from the simple kisses he is giving to her, Silco opens his mouth to let his toungue explore the insides of her mounth, without wasting time asking for the permission. The simple and intimate atmosphere of before suddenly changes and a new wave of heat flows into his body, starting from a much lower place than the chest, this time.

With the new sudden need for more contact, Silco finds a more confortable position on the couch and lets his body get in contact with the one of her, deleting all of the left space between them. The sudden contact of the centre of her spread legs with his crotch, makes him leave out a rough sigh, wanting more than just a simple contact. Without stopping from kissing her, Silco lifts the girl's shirt up, reveling her bare chest without any type of support. Interrupting the kiss just to admire what was already his, throwing her shirt on the floor, the man says:

"Your time is up darling, now Daddy decided what to do with you".

"As you want, Sil. You know I am yours." the girl responds.

Silco doesn't waste any more time and, taking off his shirt, he breaks again the distance between their bodies, melting into the feel of her body's heat against his bare chest. After that, another session of passionate kisses starts and the urging need growing in his pants becomes every minute more and more demanding. He cannot resist to her touch, he cannot resist to her body, he cannot resist to her soul. Silco arises his legs and meets the intimate part of the girl, wanting to provoke her and release a bit of his frustation at the same time. Her reaction his repentine and as soon as he comes in contact with her, the girl starts to mimic his movements, a wetness spreading onto her underwear.

"Sil, please... I can't resist for long". Silco understand the urge of the girl and with a smirk on his face, suddenly the man gets up and, lifting his loved one, goes to the other room. The bedroom is clean, tied up and doesn't seem to be used very much. Silco was using the room as a spare storage for the Last Drop, but things changed once the relationship started to become more serious, and he transformed the room into a bedroom for the girl, if ever she wanted to sleep there.

With one feet, the man opens the door and lays down the girl on the bed, big enough for the both of them. Silco senses the urging need in his pants, so, without waste of time, unbottoms his pants and throws them on the floor, before starting to undress the girl. After having taken her pants and underwear, the vision of her naked body on the bed is something that Silco has missed so much since the last time they have seen each other. Every curve of her body is in the right place, he knows every mark, every scar, every mole on that sweet and delicate skin.

"I have missed this, darling. Remind me to fuck you more often, please". Laughing at his words, the girl opens her arms to embrace him into an intimate hug, resulting in both of them on the bed. Silco embraces her into the hug and kisses her on the cheek, but for just one second before the contact of his lenght encounters her wet spot, sending a rush trought his nervous system.

"Now, let me fuck you, pretty one"

Aligning his tip with her entrance, Silco lets himself inside with a low groan, sending shivers through his spine and a hot pleasure spreads from his member. Feeling her wet, hot spot and the tight pressure on his lenght is something that drives him crazy and, bending down, he bites the girl's shoulder, leaving a visible red mark.

"Now, you are mine"

Starting with a slow piece, the man rises in order to have a complete vision of the mess his lovers is, with her hair spread all over the pillow and a redness on her face that makes her even more beautiful, ready to give all of her to the man. Ready to fulfill all of his desires. Speeding up the peace of his movements, the struggle of Silco starts to rise, looking down at his pleased darling and seeing her in such a position.

"Daddy will make you cum, little one. Don't worry, I got you"

Letting the girl moan in pleasure, Silco trusts himself into her one last time, before exiting without any warning, leaving the girl into a struggling position. Everything in the body of the man is screaming, every bone wants more, every cell wants to let out and his trobbing member reminds him of his pressing needs.

"On top now, darling" , asks the man with a demanding tone.

The girl leaves out a sigh and changes position, finding herself on the top of Silco. Admiring her from above is one of his favourite activities, but the sight of her on top of him is even better. Despite being under, Silco knows he still has the control in the situation and, with one hand on her back and the other one guiding his length, he enters just one more time. The wetness of her insides is enough to let him almost arrive at the end, but with a strong will, Silco imposes to himself and his instincts to let her cum first, being the gentleman that he is.

With a fast pace, Silco starts thrusting into her with his full length, reaching the soft spot at the top of her insides. The girl aches and the sensation given by the sudden change in her position doesn't help Silco with his mission. Feeling her wetness and tightness around him, he thrusts again, lifting his hips from the bed. One, two, three times, while the girl follows his movements.

"Sil, fuck, I cannot resist much more"

"Cum for me, darling, please" asks Silco with the little voice he can retrieve from all the moaning that was going on.

"Fuck, I am gonna cum..." the girl quickens her pace and movements of up and down, back and forth, allowing Silco to feel the rubbing of her clitoris against his lower belly. With a low moan and trembling legs, the girl orgasms and her walls reduce the already small distance with his member, causing an involontary spasm from the man.

"Little one" says Silco with a very demanding voice "resists a bit more, I cannot let you rest now" and, withous waiting for her reply, Silco grabs her hips and thrusts his waist even harder than before inside her, causing the girl to arch again. Every fibre of the man is screaming in pleasure and his throbbing member guides his mind, hastening the pace and drowning into the vision of his darling in such a position.

Feeling a growing urge arising from his lower parts, Silco lifts himself up and creates again a contact between their bodies. At the slightly touch of his chest with her bare breasts and her arms around his body, Silco cums with a low grown, sinking his hands into her hips, feeling his liquid building up and releasing inside of her.

Reducing his movements, Silco lets himself drown in the pillow, while with one hand guides the girl towards his chest, silently asking for contact, once more. Without taking his still pulsing member off, Silco feels the girl laying herself on his chest, while their irregular breathings try to find a shared rhythm.

Everything is peace now, the problems and struggles of the day seems to be something so far away in Silco's mind. The weight of his lover on the chest is a calming sensation, a feeling that the man knows to be a rare treasure he must protect with all of his strength. He is ready to do anything to protect what is under his legacy.

Releasing a sign of relief, gently strocking her hair, the man finally finds peace and, letting himself out and spooning her from behind, Silco falls asleep for once.

-------------------------------------------------------

[httpknjoon]

suspects guilty | ksj

plot | the a-listers join in a tiktok trend (ft. more the a-listers lores).

word count | 1131

genres | humor, fluff, domestic au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

Shot in the spacious backyard of their Massachusetts home, YN and Jin finally shoot their very first TikTok video. Of course, it was YN who asked the other to do it since she found the videos she watched hilarious. So, some time between breakfast and afternoon, the couple walked out to their quiet backyard to do it. All while their twins have their nap.

"So, I'll describe you with something mean and you'll do the same thing?" Jin asked, stretching his right arm over his chest.

You nod, "Yeah, we'll basically roast each other. But we'll start with the phrase: The suspect is. You know, like when cops look for their suspects."

"Okay, bub. I'm ready," he replied, this time, rolling his shoulders.

Your eyebrow raised while watching him warm up his body. A routine he usually does before working out.

"Why are you acting like you're about to run a marathon?" you scoffed.

The first one to be shown in the camera is Jin, in his favorite green hoodie, running while your voice can be heard in the background.

"Suspect claims to be a responsible drinker but posted his personal cellphone number online when he was drunk." Giggles were in between your words when you said that.

Jin stopped, "That was years ago! It was one time."

You laughed as he defended himself, remembering the time you witnessed Jin's manager stressed out the morning after Jin shared his phone number through Instagram Stories while Jin was guiltily nursing his hangover. It was around the time you two were doing press junkets for your second movie.

"Suspect had a very public crush over a co-worker when she was fourteen."

Jin grinned as you stopped from jogging. Your jaw dropped while the cringy memories of your past came running back to you.

"Oh my god! Stop bringing that up. It's embarrassing."

Everyone knew that you loved musicals, especially the movie Hairspray with Zac Efron in it. So when you were younger, you were never shy about expressing your adoration for the actor, mentioning him in interviews in teen magazines and television talk shows a handful of times. He was kind enough to surprise you one time during your appearance in Ellen. You were telling a behind-the-scenes story to the host and audience when Zac quietly walked behind you and sat next to you. Everyone laughed at your flushed reaction when you realized who was sitting beside you. Your hands were even shaking when he introduced himself to you. Up until now, you still see GIFs and memes of your reaction online being used in various contexts.

Before moving to the next clip, your husband was heard whispering under his breath, "It's cute."

"Suspect thinks he is slick every time he's shy. His red ears always give it away!"

Jin stopped and laughed at that, so hard that his hands are on his knees. You didn't stop, zooming the camera to his ears that are slowly turning crimson red.

"See! See!"

"Suspect claims to be a writer but has three thousand unfinished drafts in her computer!"

You stopped in your tracks and slowly looked back at the camera. Staring, you crossed your arms while acting really offended by that. Jin laughed at your dramatic reaction.

"That was personal, Jinnie! How could you say that?" you shook your head, feigning disappointment. "Writer's block is a worldwide issue. You know, five out of five writers get affected by it. It's a real problem."

"Suspect acts so innocent but likes to be called---"

"No! No! No!"

Jin stopped you before you could even finish your sentence. His tone seemed panicked. The camera was later focused on the ground while you two were heard whispering.

"We cannot share that online, bubba. It would generate articles."

"It's not like it's a bad kin---"

It was cut off to the next clip.

"Suspect called me the wrong name during our first and second date."

This time, it's your turn to laugh so hard that you fall on your knees on the grass. Jin was also laughing after mentioning that time.

"It was two different names!" he added, making you laugh even more.

To be fair, the names were his characters' names in two different projects he worked on. One is for his Netflix series and the other was his character's name in your second movie together. It was an honest mistake by you since you were really tired at both times it happened. Jin too. You two would just sneak in your first few dates in between your tight schedules.

"The suspect cannot tell his children apart."

Your husband was clearly taken aback by that, maybe dramatically offended. Knowing it was true, he didn't even deny it.

"That was only a few times--"

"Specifically, nine times!" you counted, trying not to laugh.

His eyebrows raised as he crossed his arms, "It was those days when they wore the same matching clothes."

"One is a boy and a girl, Jin," you told him, reminding him that your twins wear different colors of the same type of clothes.

"They are identical twins, bubba. You know that I have bad facial recognition!" he whined like a kid while you laughed.

"Suspect ghosted everyone for almost two years."

Although you stopped jogging, you just put your wrists together like you are surrendering, willing to be handcuffed. You walked back to him as you spoke,

"The suspect is guilty. She said she regrets nothing over it. She is happy with the choices she made."

Jin smiled upon hearing that. He remembered you two talking about your plans to have a hiatus in the middle of your piling projects. It was after you learned you were pregnant. As soon as you made sure that you indeed were, you immediately thought about taking a break since you already had your priorities straight. It was not just a decision you made in the spur of the moment. It was something you promised to do before you even met Jin.

As someone who grew up in a complicated family, you wanted different things when starting your own. You were willing to literally drop everything, leaving movie projects that you were dreaming of working on.

Jin wanted to do the same thing, so he could be with you. But you encouraged him to just finish his remaining commitments at the time. He was in a more tangled situation since he already started filming for those projects and couldn't afford to stress everyone with a sudden leave.

"Oh, bubba. I love you." he whispered.

He was about to lean in to give you a kiss. But you spoke,

"I love you too, si--"

"No!"

You laughed as he walked back to your house, enjoying his flushed reaction over your jokes.

note | unedited. not a comeback. this is just a random blurb in my head. sadly, I haven't written anything for months now. i feel bad leaving a lot of my works here on a cliffhanger but idk when will I update again. but thank u so much for reading and being here :)) hope ur having a great day.

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @lojocas @txtlyn @yoontaethings @zwiehe

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[reiding-writing]

I’d love to know how Spencer meeting cold!reader for the first time went! Like I’d imagine she wasn’t always as soft on him as she is now right?

GREETINGS & SALUTATIONS — SPENCER REID!

you meet spencer reid for the first time.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 0.9k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — this is super short but i wrote it to procrastinate an essay i have due in tomorrow 😭

The air is sharp with the tang of coffee and the subtle rustle of case files as you step into the BAU conference room for the first time.

You're no stranger to these environments—two years of working with the VCAC Program have hardened you to the sterile camaraderie and cautious smiles of seasoned agents. But this is a new team, a fresh start, even if you’re not entirely convinced you need it.

Agent Hotchner stands at the head of the table, his presence as steady and no-nonsense as you expected from your prior phone calls. “You’ve all been briefed on the newest addition to our team,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmur of the room. “She’s joining us after transferring from VCAC. Her experience will be invaluable here.”

You nod briefly, scanning the room. There’s a mix of polite smiles and speculative looks, each agent sizing you up in their own way.

One face catches your attention—not because he smiles, but because he doesn’t. A young man with a mop of brown hair and wide, curious eyes hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, studies you like a puzzle he’s already halfway through solving.

He looks too young to be an FBI Agent. But you can’t say much about that yourself.

—

“Your desk will be over here,” Hotch says after the short introductions, gesturing for you to follow him out of the room. You’re led to a desk directly opposite the curious-eyed man, his desk cluttered with neatly stacked books and meticulously arranged pens.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch introduces. “He joined not long before you, so I trust you two will be able to aid in each other’s adapting to working here.”

“Hi—” Spencer blurts, standing too quickly and almost knocking over a coffee mug. He’s taller than you realised, looming slightly as he tries to straighten his tie. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to shake your hand.

You nod curtly. “Hello.”

It was like looking at a perfect opposite of yourself, both in the same situation, but so utterly different in the way you conducted yourselves.

Spencer's smile falters for a fraction of a second before he launches into what can only be described as a deluge of words.

“You know, it's really great to have multiple academic doctors on the team. Statistically, the BAU has a higher concentration of advanced degrees than most FBI units, but even then, it's rare to have two people with different PhDs working in tandem. It reminds me of this study I read about cooperative dynamics in small teams—“

You tune out the rest of his rambling, nodding occasionally out of thinly-veiled politeness while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack. His voice is animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he dives into tangent after tangent.

“—and, of course, there's the entire field of developmental psychology, which is fascinating, especially when applied to criminal behaviour, though some people argue it's more of a soft science compared to neuroscience, but I disagree—“

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a neutral expression. “Sure.” Your tone is flat, your attention already shifting back to arranging your space.

Spencer stammers slightly, clearly searching for a way to salvage the conversation. If you could even call it that. “I-I mean, I guess you probably already know all that, given your background.”

“Yes, I do.” you reply simply, not offering him a lifeline.

There’s an awkward silence as Spencer shifts from one foot to the other. “Where did you complete your degree?”

You bite the urge to tell him you’re not interested in small talk. God knows you’re going to be sat across from him for who knows how long.

“Stanford.”

“Wow,” Spencer’s eyes widen just a tad, nodding. “That’s really impressive,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No—” He back tracks immediately. “Not like— I didn’t mean—” He takes in a sharp breath. “It’s a very good place for Psychology, and I’m sure learning there was a great opportunity for you— Stanford has been held to extremely high academic standards since it was founded, and so the workload has been known to overwhelm a lot of it’s students, especially PhD students, so you having graduated from there is a really impressive feat,”

“It’s a College. Who cares?”

“Right… Uh, well— Welcome to the team,” he says, retreating into the comfort of his desk chair at the dismissal in your tone. You definitely didn’t want to speak to him.

You don’t miss the way he glances at you periodically over the rest of the work day, as if trying to figure out the best way to approach you next time.

You don’t mind that as much. At least he’s not numbing your eardrums anymore.

[earthpleasures]

SIMP OF CENTURY !

Percy Jackson x fem!child of nyx!reader

Summary: Your reserved personality sparked curious thoughts in Percy's mind for years. Whenever he tried to get close to you, it backfired on him. But Hero of Olympus was never taught to give up.

Warnings: swearing, reader described as having 'night-like dark eyes'

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I haven't watched the pjo show, which means Percy's character and looks are based off the books. Louis is just a fan cast. I adore Walker, and I think he's such a good actor. So if you wish to imagine Percy as show Percy, you're free to do so! <3

dividers by: @benkeibear

"when I saw her walking down the street

she looked so fine, I just had to speak.

i asked her name but she turned away"

- mmm yeah by austin mahone, pitbull.

Everyone in the Camp Half-blood liked Percy Jackson, the most influential figure of the Second Titan War. Y/n did too, but not in the way young boy wanted. She saw him as a hero, no more of that. Which made Percy yap about her next to Annabeth's ear. Blonde could swear goddamn Seaweed Brain had no fucking dignity when it comes to Y/n. 

Being one of the children of Nyx, she was powerful. She was powerful yet in the background. He still remembered the scary ass encounter he had with her mother, Goddess of Night warning him to stay away from her daughter. 

Percy ‘impertinent’ Jackson never obeyed a word of Gods, said goddess being a primordial goddess didn't change his view of Immortals. Of course he was a little scared though, not of a goddess but of an angry and protective mother.

“To left! TO LEFT! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS FORGET ABOUT Y/N!?” Connor screamed his lungs out as Y/n ran to the red flag. Her keeping quiet for most of the game caused all other red team members to forget about the girl's presence. 

Percy took a breath as he charged towards her. His sword touched her back, threatening her to step away from the flag. “C'mon, stars. We both know how this is gonna end.” She wet her lips and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” She stepped away from the flag. Percy was about to smirk with victory when she rushed towards the flag again. 

Without thinking a second, he threw his body over hers, preventing her from grabbing handle. “What the fuck Jackson!?” Her angry voice rang through the area as they rolled on the soil together. His legs straddled her. “Looks like we ended up on top of each other again.” He said, referring to all other games. Y/n narrowed her eyes as her lower suddenly lifted from the ground and threw the boy over her body. “Arrogant bastard.”

She ran to the flag without allowing herself to catch her breath, leaving Percy behind who's groaning with pain on his back. “Damn, girl. It hurted.” He mumbled as he stood up. Last thing he saw was Y/n smirking at him with her knuckles wrapped around the handle of the red flag. She let herself fall into the shadows of the flag tower and mix into the darkness. 

She was only child of Nyx that could shadow travel properly and was allowed use it only once during game since it would be unfair to other campers and game wouldn't really have a meaning as long as she played. And of course she kept it for this moment. 

He cursed as he heard the honk announce the victors, tearing a few pieces of grass and throwing them to air. “Well, at least we had physical contact…” He pouted, trying to console himself.

“Hey, what's up, stars? Drawing the moon again? Can I see it? Please?” He spoke quickly, afraid she would disappear into darkness as usual. Girl looked up to him from her sketchbook. Sparks of little stars illuminated her night-like dark eyes, passed to her from Nyx. 

“Don't you have better things to do, Jackson? Training new kids, doing your shit as one of the ‘Counselors’? Or better, go mourn your loss and your back.” 

Her voice was bitter as ever. Y/n didn't really have any friends in camp. It wasn't that she had distaste for others, socializing wasn't her thing at all. However she never acted rude when someone reached her for help. Only ‘friends’ she had were her siblings. Being their counselor, they had to speak to their oldest sister even if they didn't want to.

He narrowed his eyes. “That's rude. You almost broke a few of my ribs.” Y/n raised her eyebrows with eraser on her hand. She spoke while getting rid of a crocked line from the white paper. 

“Sounds like a you problem, my ribs seem to be perfectly fine.”

“And also, looking at my schedule, I have all day for you.” He smiled, green eyes reflecting the sunshine. She gave him an uninterested stare. “Good for you then?” Percy knew damn well that expression on her face. She's going to disappear again. He exclaimed her name. His fingers wrapped around her wrist before she became one with shadows. 

He shadow traveled before, he knew the feeling. But it didn't relax his senses as his reflexes screamed to kick and escape. When they arrived at their destination, it was dark everywhere. His brows furrowed unintentionally. “Where are we?” Y/n looked really troubled with his presence being next to her. “What the hell is wrong with you!? Why would you stick to my wrist like a leech!?” He smirked at her distressed state. 

“Only a leech for your attention.” He winked.

“If you keep talking like a fuckboy, you will experience my affection right on your cheek in a very violent way.”  

“Yes ma'am.” 

He put his hands to his hips as he inspected their surroundings. Giant green pine trees were surrounding them, not a sound coming from the forest besides wind hitting branches. “So, back to my previous question, where are we?”

She bit her lower lip as if she didn't wanna answer the question asked. “Uh, we're kind of… on the other side of the world?” Percy's face went completely blank. “What?” 

“We're in a country where it's night right now.” He stared at the moon shining above them, the weather was clear enough to see the stars with bare eyes. “Really? That's quite exciting, which country are we in?” She thought for a second.

“Turkey.” He couldn't help but snort. She pressed her lips together at the strange choking sound he let out. “If you're going to make that immature ass joke I am gonna leave you here and never come back.” He tried to retain his serious look after hearing her not-so-fully-threat sentence. He knew she would actually leave him here with no mercy. 

“Okay, okay. Jokes aside, this forest is the definition of peace.” She looked around them, smiling at the beautiful view while inhaling the clear oxygen. “Beautiful places are always hidden by the ugliness of metropolises.” His gaze locked on her rarely seen eased-up face. “Yeah, it's beautiful…” 

“I travel to places where it's night whenever I feel the pressure of a stressful day or when I am trying to escape your boyish remarks.” Percy put a hand on his chest and fake gasped. “How dare you call them boyish? I put my whole heart into them!” She let out a low toned giggle, keeping quiet to not to disturb the rest of the animals. 

“I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Jackson. I haven't noticed that you poured your heart into wasted attempts of flirting.” Percy sat on a fallen log, tip of his foot digging into fresh soil. “They're not wasted attempts. Nothing is wasted when I do it for you.” 

For the first in their years of banters, Y/n was taken aback. “I… appreciate your efforts Percy. But I just don't get what makes me so valuable in your eyes. I am not the strongest swordsman in camp, or the most beautiful girl around. I don't return your flirts or compliments. It's strange to see you never give up on… me.” 

Percy looked into the depths of her eyes, green eyes holding more than just interest ignited in his heart. “I don't care about how beautiful or how strong you're. I care about who you are. I care about the girl who can't help but chuckle when she sees owls flying around her, I care about the girl who helps anyone in need of her, I care about the girl who makes incredible drawings.” With languid movements, he stood up from the log he was settled on. His calloused hands gently reached to her, fingers interlocking with hers.

“I always kept my efforts on you because you never said anything about me harassing you. If I ever sensed you being uncomfortable around me to the point you can't stand my presence, I would've stopped. Hope kept me going.” Her confused expression softened as his sentences progressed. She could feel her eyes watering, tears were ready to overflow and roll down on her cheeks. 

“Percy…” His finger rubbed her palm, grayness from the pencil smearing his thumb too. “I am so sorry Y/n. For making you feel distressed in a place where you should be secure from all threats. I've never been flawless and i-” 

His eyes shoot open when soft, cold lips pressed against his. Her hands clutched on his orange t-shirt, eyes closed as she let herself get lost in sensation. Soon enough, he came to his senses too, hands flying to cup her cheeks. 

When they parted he laid her forehead against hers, she let out a chuckle. “You look so red, like my rose drawings.” He embraced her, not giving an answer to her teasing. All he needed was to feel her skin against his and inhale the scent he has been longing for years. His face buried on the crook of her neck. “Y/n?” 

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yes?” 

“I think I am gonna faint cause my heart is beating abnormally fast.” 

“What- PERCY! OH MY GODS!” 

Her shock filled shriek echoed through the whole forest, six feet tall Percy Jackson collapsed on her. “Are you kidding me!?” She did the first thing that came into her mind, took him back to Camp Half-blood.

Percy opened his eyes, the ceiling of the cabin welcomed him. “Fuck, it was all a dream again.”

“Woah, you dream about me?” 

Young boy let out an almost girlish scream as he pulled his blanket over his chest like he tried to protect his pudicity. Y/n grimaced. “Goddammit Percy, roosters are amateurs next to you.” His ragged breath slowed down when he saw the very face that was the star of his ‘dream’. 

“You aren't dreaming, I kissed you, so-”

“WE'RE DATING NOW!?” 

And that was how all residents of Camp Half-blood learned about their relationship.

Upcoming days, Percy was like a limb of her. Eighty percent of his time was spent with her, the other twenty percent he was yapping about her to Grover and the rest of the Seven. 

Contrary to what she thought, days turned weeks, weeks turned months, months turned years. Percy kept torturing everyone around him about his girlfriend, his fiancée and his wife. 

And maybe they weren't Immortal, but through generations, Camp Half-blood remembered the lovesick couple of 21th century.

©2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dr-spectre]

Rambling about Marina and Relatability...

I've said in the past that i relate heavily to Marie, but as i think about it further.... I think i relate more to Marina... I just read through this incredible twitter thread by @ _CSenpai_ which i shall leave at the end, but it got me to really think... "huh... Marina is kinda me fr." (Also I'm gonna get pretty personal in this post so keep that in mind too.)

Marina has very serious special interests and clearly spends a lot of time researching and engaging in these interests. She gets VERY excited when someone mentions anything remotely about her interests and takes them seriously. Which is something i do as if someone even remotely mentions Splatoon out of the blue, my chest will go "BZZZTTTT" and i get the tingles and i wanna run around my room.

She's very into machinery, video games, music and manga/comic books. Marina stays up and overworks herself when it comes to music and her interests, which is shown in the dev diaries and chat logs in Side Order and Octo Expansion. This is something i tend to do as well as I consume my special interests way into the night and i can't go to bed because I'm so damn energized. Sometimes i become so focused that i don't even notice that time has passed by for so long and before i even realise it... It's 2pm and now i want lunch.

She corrects Pearl on wizards which reminds me of the kind of stuff i say during my rambles about Callie and her arc in Splatoon 2... I get VERY picky when it comes to people using ahem.... certain words when describing the events that took place.

In the Hero vs. Villain Splatfest, she is the only one who is taking it very seriously while everyone else is smiling or expressing anger.

She's using a god damn GAMECUBE CONTROLLER AND A HEADSET! She's literally me oh my god. When i go over for parties and celebrations and someone brings out a Switch and we play Smash Bros or Mario Kart? I take that shit seriously and i can't tone back my skill level and just have fun.

Also Marina is known to have sensitivity to certain food textures including mayo and pulp in orange juice. Now i LOVE mayo personally but i HATEEEE stuff in my drinks. I am a massive texture eater and i will avoid stuff in food that ruins the texture. When i get pumpkin soup for example, if i see vegetable bits in that shit i will actually feel sick and flick the bits off of my spoon.

Marina is also seen stimming and pacing back and forth when excited. When i tend to get overly excited by myself, i will literally violently shake for a brief moment and then squeal. I'm not joking.

Marina also tends to bottle up her emotions and often lashes out onto others when it's too much for her. Which is something i tend to do... I don't often say how i feel when someone asks how am i and i often wanna scream and break something when the anger is just too much for me to contain. I end up yelling by myself and cuss like no tomorrow. I can find solace in a character who does a similar thing i do, minus the cussing lmao.

I think one of the bigger reasons on why i relate to Marina is gonna be a weird one but... She is almost always seen with her headphones. No matter what situation she is in, she always wears her headphones.

Even when she's Marina Agitando and Overlorder has taken over her body, the Controller VM acts like headphones as it covers her ears!

Now this detail about her wearing her headphones almost often might seem minor, but to me it makes me love Marina even more. I always constantly wear headphones and it's due to various different reasons. First is because i love listening to music and enjoying background noise, second, it dampens the sounds around me as i can be pretty sensitive to certain sounds. And third... well... let's just say that i live with a uh.... loud parent who... gets pretty angry, NOT AT ME! THANKFULLY! BUT... when they scream... and swear... i put on my headphones and wait for the noise to go by. It's a comfort thing for me and helps get through those... rough periods... Marina wearing those headphones often and not being judged for it, makes me feel, happy...

...uh... yeah.

ANYWAYS! Another big thing i relate with Marina on is her want for order and balance in her life. She doesn't like massive changes in her routine and wants to maintain the balance in her life.

i do not like it when my routine suddenly changes and i get upset and angry. I have a strict routine and when it gets fucked over oh MAN OH MANNNN!!!!!!!!!!!

And that last point about feeling safe and secure, as i mentioned earlier with the third point about wearing headphones... I wanna feel safe and secure... I want to feel calm... I don't want someone to suddenly shout or get upset or for my routine to change and i can't do anything about it...

The only thing i don't relate with Marina on is well... Looks. Listen, i ain't no tall black octopus woman with a noticeable figure and a pretty face HAHAHAHA! I find it kind of funny that I'm able to relate SO MUCH to someone like her when I'm some 20 year old dude who looks nowhere NEAR like her. Except for maybe height i don't know.

However, i will say, i actually don't act this excited in person, i tend to be very shy and reserved in person compared to my online behaviour. I say words in a dry manner and i don't have the best social skills. So i guess that's where the relatability for Marie comes in as well. I'm a heavy introvert and despite my need for wanting to connect to others, i would rather stay indoors than go out and meet new people to start friendships or potentially a romantic relationship... like that's ever gonna happen anyways...................

I got two brain cells. It's them.

So anyways, that was all i wanted to say! I love Marina and she's my second favourite Idol, you can probably guess who's number 1 but i ain't talking about... her... well not today anyways.

Thanks for reading!!!

The thread that inspired this blog post: https://x.com/_CSenpai_/status/1367219374948376579

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

I. “the club within the club”

parts: next

plot: when you find yourself needing a topic for a journalism final, you seek out an interview from Gotham’s elusive vigilante: Batman. this proves even more difficult than it already sounds, and tensions rise when you discover an intimate secret—just as Bruce Wayne realizes his own.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MATURE! NSFW! canon-typical violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, forced proximity, eventual smut, mutual pining, POV alternating, Bruce Wayne needs a hug, mental health issues (psychosis, suicidality), substance use, blackmail (or is it?), serious health issues, grief, brief mention of sa, gaslighting, mild gore

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve posted to tumblr and ao3, very excited to see how people like it ✨ same user on ao3 :) comments and reblogs are so appreciated! 💖

"I haven’t turned in the assignment yet, I'm so sorry," You fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Your professor wasn't too happy with you; already a week late, this assignment was creating a piece of journalism about happenings around the city—the city was used loosely, because it was school policy not to require students be in the field for assignments. You never wanted to linger on what might have caused that rule to be enforced.

Dr. Vry was usually the picture of impatience, though she had a soft spot for you—she described you as a ‘journalistic prodigy’. You couldn’t see it, and it didn't help that you couldn't write your final piece when graduation was so near. While you’d done well in the intro courses, now that the material was more complex… you were struggling. She would say it was all in your head, and the only thing holding you back was lack of confidence in your burgeoning journalism skills, but you weren’t so sure. You had come from a sociology background but had interest in learning journalism with your last few credits, unaware how much grief this would cause you.

"Y/N, you're overthinking it.” She gently shook her head, her salt and pepper hair unmoving in the slick bun. “I'll extend it until the end of next week without point reduction. But after that it's out of my hands!" With that you thanked her, hurrying out of the class with your book tightly squeezed to your chest. Thank god, you thought. I can't fail out of a class in my last term.

That evening you holed up in your apartment per usual. You absentmindedly texted your one friend here, Margaret, but knew she was out clubbing. You’d met in a sociology course last year when you transferred. She had been the only one kind enough to show you around the city, the social butterfly she was; holding your hand as she dragged you from bar to bar, club to club. This led to a cat and mouse dynamic between you both: her always hopping to the next party albeit the occasional pit stop in your apartment and you, the reclusive homebody. You hadn’t always been so subdued, but you hadn’t always lived in the crime capital of the US.

You longed for more companionship, but focused on how you'd be leaving Gotham after graduation. The sting of loneliness here was too great, and it was no use stringing more people along. Mar had snuck her way into a crack in the first few months of your arrival. Back when you thought you might find something here. Back before you were proven wrong, and you’d given up on this godforsaken city.

Mar didn’t usually respond but tonight, she did.

Y/N, get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little to yourself at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers. No thanks, have fun!

Within a second she had disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. Ugh. You were tired from a long day of classes, and didn't want to pay to be humped by random clubgoers. Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to try and get something from a woman. Plastered all across downtown were blistered posters with a faded number to report drink tampering. You should have expected as much with the city’s reputation, but coming from a small town you were naive. You picked up your phone and her text stared back at you. The day’s exhaustion had worn on your resolve, and the longer you looked at her text, the closer you were to giving in. More inspiration... she might be right. You looked around at your empty walls and the waning light outside, the sun rapidly giving way to a dark, rainy abyss.

Fine, only for an hour.

You reluctantly walked over to your closet to pick an outfit. This was gonna be a long night.

You found yourself standing out under your apartment patio, shivering in your dress. You chose something subtle: mini, dark, with some heels to match, though you admittedly didn’t have many options. You’d hurried and only put on lashes, lipgloss, and brow gel, because you thought your driver would be on time. Staring out at the flashing headlights threatened a migraine, so you whipped out your phone and went onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social media. You didn't bother going on very often, only on the rare occasion Mar dragged you out into the city. There was a handy 'Crime' tab, which had up-to-the-minute updates. It seemed pretty empty, only some car vandalisms the past hour. Hmm. You felt uneasy, the environment unusually calm for a Friday evening. Maybe it's a good thing. Wouldn't want to go out during a crime surge. You looked up as you heard a tire tempt the curb. Your driver called out your name, and you slunk into the backseat.

The drive was quick, with clubs practically on every corner. Mar hadn't told you which one, so you weren't prepared when the car pulled up to one of the most elite clubs in the city. Your face went pale, and your voice cracked as you failed making excuses to the driver. "I'm so sorry, my friend must have given you the wrong directions—"

"No, it's correct." He was stern, and when you started taking out cash to pay, he waved a dismissive hand toward you. "Your friend already paid, Miss." Flustered, and frankly confused he hadn’t sneakily accepted double payment, you thanked him and stepped out. The line wasn't too long, so you got behind a few people who were laughing hysterically. You noticed some green tinfoil out of their pocket: Drops. You forgot all the biggest dealers hung around here every night. What was Mar thinking bringing you here?

The line moved fast so you didn't have time to find an excuse to leave. You held out your ID to the burly, tall bouncer who gave you a once-over and a smirk. You stifled a groan, hating being looked at like a meal. Living in Gotham meant always feeling eyes on the back of your neck. The bouncer grinned and handed back your card, holding out another hand for the club fee. Shit. You fumbled in your bag and realized you didn't know the amount. Sheepishly, you looked over from your bag and scanned the wall behind him as quickly as possible. $50. Jesus. You managed to find three twenties crumpled at the bottom of your bag, and begrudgingly handed them over. He smiled and opened the door for you. "No change."

Well, guess I'm eating ramen this week.

Your ears began ringing the second you entered the booming club. People were packed in like sardines, and before you could even muster a thought you were grabbed fast from behind. You suppressed a scream.

"Y/N!!!" Mar wrapped you in a hug and you grabbed her to steady yourself. "Shit, Mar,"

"You look SO good! Fuck yeah!" She smiled and smacked your butt as she took your hand and led you towards the stairs. You hadn’t gotten much of a look, but her eyes looked bleary, red. "I met some guys that got us a lounge!" She was giggling but you pulled back, wincing. You'd already been sufficiently creeped on by the bouncer.

You rolled your eyes. "I thought this was a girl's night,"

She shook her head, grinning. "C'mon Y/N, get loose!" As she turned back to step up the stairs, a circle of green tinfoil fell from her pocket. You yanked your hand back, frustrated. No fuckin’ wonder. She was wasted. "MAR." You bent down to pick up the litter just as a man came up behind you, grinding against your ass. A bit of his drink spilled on your side, and you spun around to shove him back. Mar stepped up, always a willing wingman. "Hey, don't fuck with a woman like that, bitch!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM. Popping noises that sounded like gunshots rang out from the far corner of the bar. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You grabbed for the railing to head for the exit when people running from downstairs rammed into you. After a few seconds desperately straining your vision to look for Mar, you covered your head with your arms while you ducked. The gunshots inched closer and closer, egging on your heart rate, curdling your thoughts sour. I shouldn't have come. I don't want to die. I shouldn't be here. What the fuck am I doing here? I shouldn't have come. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm going to fucking die.

You heard a rapid increase in gunfire and then a total ceasing. You wanted to look up, but it was too terrifying. Sweat beaded on your entire body as it became electrified with adrenaline—you had known how unsafe Gotham was, you just hadn't seen yourself in the crossfire… until now. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing yourself hard against the side of the stair to try and make your body as small as possible. You wondered if everyone else had been killed, and they were looking for any survivors… The rough concrete texture burrowed itself into your arm as you jammed it even harder, forcing yourself to be compact. I could be dead with just one bullet.

Before more morbid thoughts could form, you yelped as you felt your body being lifted and slung over someone's shoulder. Something was hard and slick against your stomach, and you opened your eyes manically to see the world whizzing around you. The arm that held you was strong, so strong you couldn't slip out if you tried. You ducked your head as the person ran you both toward the back exit with total ease. Panic started to set in. It's so dark. Who is this? Is he gonna have his way with me?

As soon as you were brought an alley down, fully away from the chaos, you began fighting against the stranger. The streets were so dark you still could hardly see, but it felt like the person was armored. You’d heard some small grunts from them on the short sprint here, or maybe you’d imagined them? Regardless, you couldn’t place the voice while your ears were still bright with tinnitus. You shouted, trying with all your might to shove them off of you, to no avail. "Let me GO!"

"Stop fighting." A low, gravelly voice spoke right next to your ear. You continued struggling to the point you felt a bruise forming on your bottom ribs. It was as if the entire world had zoomed in, and nothing mattered more than escaping. You drew a quick breath, tensing your body to fight. This motherfucker isn't gonna let me go, is he?

Without warning he relinquished his grasp and you slid off the man, landing squarely in a puddle. You looked up and through the darkness saw a masked man clad in deepest black... the Batman.

"Thanks, uh," You immediately broke eye contact, feeling awkward. The tornado of panic in your chest relaxed ever so slightly. You felt bad for fighting so hard against him, but you hadn’t known any better. Before you could fully realize the gravity of what had just happened, how Vengeance himself was standing before you, he noticed something glint behind your ear.

"Turn around." The voice was low and gravelly still, and you spun around instantaneously. You'd heard good things about the Batman in your year and a half here. A few of your classmates had direct experience with him, having been saved on one occasion or another. "He never stuck around, he was always gone as quickly as he came." It seemed almost instinctual to trust him. And, his voice brooked no argument.

Suddenly the back of your head lit up in flaming pain.

"You need stitches." He stepped back and through the deadened night you saw a screen light up on his arm. "Victim with head wound on Feller and Kelley." You heard a faint 'Roger' before the screen went black. Fear shot through you the same time as relief. You were safe, but you had to get a needle snaked through your scalp. The thought made you physically ill.

To your surprise, he was already halfway down the alleyway when you looked back; just as he turned out of view, police lights illuminated the alleyway. Holy fuck, you'd just met the Batman.

And you hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

[astroboots]

period sex with soft marc☹️☹️🥺🥺 him being so sweet n praising you😭😭😭😭 hed take such good care of you<3 i need him

Take Care of Me

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Content: explicit as fuck. Period sex, Marc's competence in overdrive.

Word count: 3k words

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS' MASTERLIST |MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

Painful is an understatement.

If you had to describe what your period felt like to an alien who had no understanding of human biology this is how you might describe it:

Imagine a battalion of tiny sumo wrestlers duking it out inside your uterus.

Imagine a never-ending game of tag between a horde of stomp-happy elephants using your stomach as the running ground.

Imagine the two allegories combined, but multiple it with three, and imagine having it every month from the time you're a young adolescent until (if you're lucky and god is merciful) it will end when you're in your fifties.

As you lie in your bed, curled up with a hot water bottle tucked to your lower belly, and whine into your pillow, you are convinced that this is some kind of divine punishment. You must have been bathing in virgin's blood to retain youth in a past life. Because you don't know what else you could've done to deserve this. And if you weren't, then if there is a god in heaven, they had better beg for your forgiveness when you get there.

"Want me to make you a cuppa love?"

You drag your face from where it's buried in the pillow to peek up at Steven's worried face.

Big brown eyes gaze down at you with so much concern, he must think you are on your death bed. He's been taking care of you all day. Pampering, coddling, and fussing over you.

He's been refilling your tea before you have time to even empty the cup. Reheating the hot water bottle every twenty minutes before it even has a chance to drop in temperature.

It's incredibly sweet. But you're so tea-ed out at the moment, you think 90% of your body composition is tea at this point.

"'m good."

He frowns, biting down on his lip, and you can sense his worry from bed. "If you don't want tea maybe some hot chocolate? I can even toast some marshmallows on top and I have a packet of biscuits."

You consider his generous proposal for a second or two.

In all honesty, you feel too sick even for chocolate, but you have a feeling that turning down chocolate will truly make Steven think you're dying and try to call the ambulance. So instead you answer, "that sounds lovely Steven."

His whole face brightens up, and he leaps to his feet and darts towards the kitchen.

You close your eyes to the raucous sound of pots and pans being pulled out. In the background, the sound of something crashing clanks out from the direction of the kitchen. It's followed by Steven's familiar comforting voice cursing "bugger" and "oh no," but you're too tired to check for yourself what's going on, as you drift off to sleep.

In your dream, you're wrapped in a comforting warmth. There's a gentle pressure on your stomach and limbs that takes all the pain away. Strong and tender, all at once, you want to linger in this sensation forever.

It's not forever, of course. But your nap lasts long enough that you get a bit of respite from the pain. When you wake again, it's to the distinct smell of burnt sugar lingering in the air.

Strong hands traverse over your hips and stomach, kneading at your sore and aching muscles with a perfect pressure that feels like heaven.

He's sitting at the foot of your bed, with a posture so upright, it's almost militant. The man doesn't need to open his mouth with his Chicagoan accent for you to know it's Marc who's sitting next to you right now.

"Where's Steven?" you ask.

"Put him on a time out. Nearly burnt down the place, trying to torch some marshmallows."

You smile at the image Marc is painting for you. That explains the burnt smell.

"How are you feeling," Marc asks. His hand roams from your stomach to the plane of your thighs. It has everything tingle pleasantly inside of you.

"Better," you tell him. "It feels really good when you do that."

His hand stills for a second, eyes drifting to his own hands. "Want me to keep going?"

You barely have to nod before he starts up again. Large hands covering the insides of your thighs as he presses down with just the right amount of strength.

The sensation spikes across your nerves and rides up your spine until the tense knot in your stomach that has been terrorizing you all day unfurls.

You gasp at the sensation, back arching into his touch for more. "There, there, don't stop."

It's maddening how good it feels. Marc knows your body like a map of a continent that he's explored every corner of. His hand drifts ever so slightly, fine-tuning his touch that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It's the relief you've been begging for all day. Each press of his hand erasing the blunt ache that's been digging into your flesh since you woke up this morning.

That large hand of his, smooths over your bare stomach. The sweet warmth of it soothing any leftover pain that is still there until he cups over the soft fabric of your underwear and replaces it with an altogether different ache that has you squirming and squeezing your legs together.

His hand stills. "You want me to stop?"

"No!" you shout, louder than you intended or expected.

You clutch at his wrists to keep them on you. You're pretty sure that if Marc stopped touching you, you'd combust and die from frustration on the spot. Pretty sure that whatever the equivalent of blue balls is for ovaries is about to descend upon you.

"No, I just..." you flounder for a minute, not entirely sure what to say. Face warm as you say try to find the words. You don't know why the thought is so mortifying to you.

"I'm on my period." You manage to mutter out.

Marc cocks his head to the side, one eyebrow raised. He looks genuinely puzzled at what you've just told him. "I know...so?"

"It'll make a mess," you tell him, and you don't know how he's so casual about this. God knows your neat-freak of a boyfriend hates a mess. "I don't want to ick you out".

Ick him out? Why do you sound like a kid on the playground talking about cooties?

There's no worry in Marc's eyes as he observes you. None of the big round doe-like eyes of Steven. His eyes are narrowed, honed in on your face.

"Fuck the mess," he says.

There's a simmering heat in his voice as he says it that makes everything between your legs slick and achy as he leans even closer to you. "I want to make you feel better. You okay with that?"

You nod and the tip of his fingers skirts the edge of your panties before slipping inside. Despite your earlier embarrassment at the idea, your breath stutters with anticipation.

You're so fucking wet. Slick and hot, as his thumb presses down and has sharp electricity crackle down your spine. You find yourself spreading your legs wider for him, and Marc is more than happy to take it as an invitation.

Two fingers slide inside you, filling you perfectly, until you realize you feel a slickness trickle down the heel of Marc's hand.

"Fuck, Marc-- wait, it's--" you squeak in alarm as you feel it drip between your legs. "It's gonna get on the bed."

He doesn't stop, fingers continuing its languid pace on your clit, as he keeps stroking it to the pace of his liking. His mouth is on your neck, hot and humid as he murmurs into your skin.

"You really think a little blood is gonna keep me out of that pretty little pussy? Open up for me baby, let me take care of you."

And god...

You do. Of course you do, you'd do anything Marc asks and wants from you when he speaks to you in that tone and register. Your legs spread even further, tilting into his doting touch as he slides his fingers deeper.

Heat simmer all along the length of your spine, brandishing it with pleasure that has you struggling for breath.

His other hand comes to cup your face, while his fingers are still busy circling and gently strumming at your clit. He makes it seem so effortless as he does it.

There's no hesitation in his movements, two fingers bracketing your clit and he gently slides and teases you there that has that all familiar warmth already furling in your lower abdomen. Insistent and never rushed, you feel his fingers everywhere, until he brushes over something devastatingly good that has your vision go white for a brief moment.

"That's it baby, you're alright. So good for me, you don't have to think about anything else. All I need is for you to feel good. Come on my hand," his voice rasps in your ear.

Smooth and calming. Loving and commanding.

You don't stand a chance.

It's all it takes.

You drown in it, your climax claiming your limbs as the sensation streaks down your legs and wraps around your bones. You shake and jolt in his arms but he holds you there to him, not letting you pull away as you squirm away from the overstimulation and makes you ride the high against the palm of his reassuring hand.

He comforts you through it. All gentle caresses and soothing hushes as he presses his soft lips on your forehead.

"That's my good fucking girl."

Through the haze of your bliss, you reach for him. One finger hooking onto his belt to drag him closer.

You're too out of it to fully register what you're doing or properly express what you want. All you know is you want more of him. More of Marc. More of his sturdy firm weight on you. The warmth of his skin pressed against you. Of him, inside you.

"Want my cock baby?"

You nod, and much like before, Marc immediately complies.

He always does. Never does deny you of anything.

One hand comes to the front of his jeans, and you don't have to wait long for him as he pulls himself free of his jeans. Cock hard, and jutting up proudly that has you salivating at the sight of it.

Gripping his cock in one hand, Marc kneels over you, notching the fat tip against your entrance. The moment you feel him, you forget about any shred of hesitation you had just moments earlier about making a mess.

Because right now you don't care if you ruin Steven's sheets and leave a crime scene behind you. Every single thought in your mind has been replaced by the overarching need to have this man inside you.

He leans over, arms bracketing you in as he presses into you, stretching you, inch by perfect, beautiful, fucking, inch that has you seeing stars even in the daylight.

You feel him everywhere, every slow thrust and cant of his hips pressed so deeply into you, you're not sure you can breathe. You cling to every inch of him, legs wrapped around his waist, not wanting to let go but not sure you can take more of him either.

Full, you feel so fucking full.

"Too much?" Marc asks, eyes examining you, making sure you're alright.

You don't know how to answer him. It is a lot. So much, with all of him, every perfect inch of him filling you to capacity. It's too much and yet you want all of it and more. Want more and want him to never stop. So you tell him exactly that.

"No. Don't stop, don't stop," you beg. "Keep fucking me, please."

One big, warm hand settles low on your stomach, before it wanders, brushing teasingly through your folds and oh-so-gently over and around your clit until you think you might scream.

You bite down on your lip, worried that if you actually do scream, he'll stop out of worry. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, trying to calm yourself but it only makes it all the more intense.

Behind closed eyes, the pleasure surges through your chest, and you can feel every careful and calculated movement that Marc makes as he slowly drags his cock out of you, until only the fat head rests inside you. Then he pushes back inside again, just as slow and it has tears stinging your eyes.

Slow and thorough. Deep and controlled. He's murmuring in your ear the whole time, his voice low and rough.

"Relax for me baby," he tells you, "I'm gonna take care of you like I always do. Fill your pretty pussy with my cock until you feel all better, okay?"

Better doesn't begin to describe it. You feel good. Feel so good you're overripe with pleasure that seems to be bursting along the seam of your skin.

The hand on your stomach, presses and holds you in place as you start to squirm against him to goad his fingers to where you need them.

But even when he complies, giving you what you like he always does, zeroing in on your clit, his caresses stay light and gentle. His thumb barely brushes over you, as he keeps the pace agonizingly slow and soft that have you shivering and shaking in his arms.

The taunting pleasure builds ever so slowly in your core. The light and teasing touches too much and not enough all at once, and your oversensitive, overwrought cunt clenches and flex endlessly, squeezing down around the thickness Marc’s cock.

You can feel his body jerk over yours each time, and you revel in the soft grunts and gasps you’re driving from him, because surely, surely now he’ll let go and fuck you fast and hard until you're crying.

But he still doesn’t. Doesn't lose control. Just presses gentle kisses to your shoulder, murmuring over and over again. "It’s okay, I got you, Going to make you feel so good".

He says it like a promise. As if he isn't already doing exactly that. He's making you feel so fucking good. So good that you can hardly stand it. So good that you're writhing in his arms, clutching and clawing at his arm and hand and wrist, not sure if you're trying to push him away or pull him closer. But it doesn't matter, he might as well be a stone statue for all the hope you have of moving him anywhere he doesn't want to you be yet.

You can feel the all too familiar tension in his body. Those strong thick thighs as hard as iron between yours. You swear you can feel the furious pounding of his heart where you're pressed back against his chest. Or maybe that's your own pulse pounding loud and frantic in your ears, but it doesn't matter, because you know he's close too.

"Fuck you feel so good," he murmurs into your skin and if you didn't know better you'd think he sounded shaky.

The pleasure builds, streaking up your torso in little lightning bolt pulses that tighten your nipples to achingly hard little points and steal the breath from your lungs.

The heat of Marc's body against you is unbearable, his hot breath and lips sliding over your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your jaw, and all the while, his fingers, those clever, competent fingers keep up their slow, ruinous circling, driving you higher inch by devastating inch.

You can't breathe anymore, can't see, can't think to the point you're pretty sure you can't feel your feet. Do you even have feet anymore? The only thing that's grounding you is the security of Marc's arms wrapped around you, the quiet cadence of his voice, whispering low and soft and still oh so sweet in your ear.

It's too much. Everything in you winding higher and tighter, filling you so full of pleasure that you swear you'll burst, but somehow still you don't. Can't. You need–

You clutch at Marc, gasp out a garbled sound that might be his name. You want to tell him that you can't stand it, that you need more, need all of him, everything that he has to give, but you've lost the ability to speak.

Instead, your body tells him for you, your cunt squeezing down around him, and refusing to let go. All of you drawn tight, tighter, tightest.

There's a breathless, "Oh. Baby. Fuck." in your ear, and Marc's hips jerk against you. Just once, the tiniest upward hitch. But it's enough. It's more than enough.

The unbearable, blissful tension holding your body hostage shatters, and wave after wave of unparalleled rapture roll though you, sharp and sweet and endless. The breath you didn't think you had left leaves you in a loud keening cry, that's echoed by a low, pained groan, and you can feel Marc's cock swell and pulse as he spills inside you, unable to resist the calling of your body's climax.

You ride out your orgasms together, your hips grinding needily into his, his fingers gripped harshly into your flesh, until the seemingly endless pleasure finally releases you both from its grip and you collapse back against Marc's solid bulk.

The arms around you relax, his clean hand smoothing over your belly and thighs. His voice hoarse and low, but still so, so syrupy sweet and gentle as he reassures you that you're okay, that he's got you, that he'll always be there when you need him.

You're boneless against him. Arms lying limply by your side on the damp mattress. Every bit of tension wrung out of you, like an old flannel that been wetted and twisted dry one too may times; worn out, but warm and cozy and relaxed.

"Feeling any better?" Marc asks eventually, arms tightening ever-so-subtly around you.

You don't have it in you to answer him with words, but you manage a small, contented giggle, snuggling back further into his embrace and tilting your head back to nuzzle his jaw.

That seems to be enough for him. He cranes his neck to press a soft kiss to your lips, then settles back, and the two of you stay there, cuddled together, warm and content and sated.

Content... just so fucking content, except...

Content is an understatement to what you're feeling wrapped in Marc's arms like this.

If you had to describe what this moment felt like to an alien who had no understanding of human emotions this is how you might describe it:

Imagine snow falling outside and you are wrapped up safely in a heavy blanket around your tired limbs.

Imagine the smell of freshly made pancakes and coffee brewing (just the way you like it) in the morning after a hangover.

Imagine all of that combined and it still wouldn't even begin to do it any justice.

A/N: Thank you nonny for this ask, literally when you sent it I was having the period from actual hell and was in tears and wailing and crying in bed. This was a really nice escape to write this oneshot with TWP.

[karasu4life]

Pic creds: floreaii on Pinterest

Sae Itoshi x Spanish reader, I guess... It's kinda short, not a full story but more like a little self indulgent

I can do a second part hehehehehehehbwhehedbd if y'all like slowburn

Not proofread... At all... 1.3k (eugh I need a word counter instead of a character counter)

First post

Sae was finally getting comfortable in this new country, after being alone for so long. Without his parents, his little brother, or anyone to keep him company during the endless stretches of free time that had slowly dwindled into nothing. Sae dedicated his entire life to football. Football, and only football. To be the best... Striker? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He should know. He was Japan's prodigy, after all.

Every day was a relentless pursuit of improvement, every second accounted for. So the fact that studying was mandatory in Spain—something he couldn't escape—was like a thorn in his side.

He had arrived at thirteen, just in time to be thrust into "primero de la ESO," the first year of high school. Now, at fifteen, he was in tercero. The years blurred together, marked only by training and the occasional match. Classes? They were background noise.

Sae glanced at his grades, printed neatly on the paper he held. Around him, his classmates were a cacophony of shouts—some celebrating, others wailing in despair.

Ah. PE.

It was the only subject where his scores shone. The rest? A mix of pity passes and resigned teachers. He folded the paper, tucked it into his backpack, and waited for the bell. Recess, or recreo, meant thirty minutes of freedom. Normally, he would spend it playing football, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted into chaos. Chairs screeched, voices overlapped, and footsteps thundered toward the door. Everyone scattered, eager for their break—everyone except one person.

You.

You were fumbling with your backpack, struggling to fix your hair while trying to retrieve your lunch. Sae watched as you sighed, frustration evident on your face.

"Me han gastado la misma broma… otra vez." Your voice was quiet, resigned.

You stood up, leaving your things behind. It wasn’t the first time Sae had seen this. The so-called friends you surrounded yourself with were more like hyenas, always pulling these "jokes." Was that considered bullying or just friendly bantering? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to label it. All he knew was that you didn’t deserve it at all.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, moving towards you. His body acted on instinct, though his mind questioned why. Sae wasn’t one to meddle. He didn’t really care for people. Yet here he was, holding out his lunchbox in your direction.

You blinked, startled, your eyes flicking from the lunchbox to his face.

"Eh?"

"Yo puedo quedarme con… contigo en el, how do you say it, recreo." His Spanish was stilted, awkward, and the furrow in his brow deepened as he stumbled over the words.

A giggle unintentionally escaped your lips before you could stop it. His frown deepened even more, and you quickly cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

"Ah, ¡claro! Uh, I mean… I'll put my English classes to good use. Of course you can stay with me! Or, eh, I can stay with you…"

Sae gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. You scrambled to grab your things, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t mind.

You never found the perfect wave of words to describe this boy, man, guy, dude, whatever. He was someone admirable to say less. You would always go to his matches, sneaking out of your group of friends just to see him play. You could call them your comfort space, a place where there was no one except you, your thoughts and Sae. The fact that he was someone cold attracted you, making you too curious for your own good. You wanted to get to know him without being brushed off like the rest of people who tried to talk with him.

Qué sorpresa.

Sae found the perfect wave of words to describe you. Someone annoying, very much talkative, sometimes wanting to look cool but failing miserably to the point where you don't even try anymore and just start being yourself. The fact that you took the time to try to fit in, even if you were from this same country, made him want to know more about you. Why would you do that? He couldn’t understand why you bothered pretending to do so when you were clearly better off alone. But maybe that’s what made you different from him. Maybe you weren't afraid of trying, even if it meant failing. Sae didn't try. He didn't let himself fail. He wanted to know why you did.

How surprising.

You found a spot under the shade of a tree, just far enough from the chaos of the football field. The moment you sat down, a ball went flying towards your head.

You saw your whole life flash by in 5 seconds, which was how long it took Sae to react by stopping the ball with his foot and sending it back into the field, startling the group of boys who had sent it flying in the first place.

"¿Seriously?" Sae muttered, his tone dripping with irritation as he sat down and opened his lunchbox.

You stared at him, still processing what had just happened.

"Do you attract bad luck, by any chance?" he asked, his gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing on his food.

"As far as I know… no?" You frowned, though his question made you think. Were you really a magnet for bad luck? Then something caught your eye: his lunch.

"You didn’t bring un bocata!"

Sae looked up, confused. “Un what?”

"¡Bocata!" you repeated.

"…Bocado?"

"No, bocata. Like… sandwich? Bocadillo?" You gestured dramatically, as if miming the shape of a sandwich would help him understand.

"Ah. Right. That." He looked down at his neatly packed lunch—rice, chicken, and vegetables arranged with military precision. "No."

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest as if he had offended the entire nation.

"¿Cómo que no?"

"¿Cómo que sí?" he shot back, his tone flat but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"—you retorted—"Do you do anything else except playing football?"

"Do you do anything else except watching people playing football?" Your jaw dropped. So, he had noticed. All those times you thought you’d been sneaky, hiding in the bleachers or at the edge of the field—he’d known.

Maybe you were too bored, didn't you have a home?

You were startled. Shutting up and fixing your hair again, uselessly putting some strands behind your ear that decided to go to their initial position. You struggled opening your backpack, Sae was interested.

What was today's prank?

"They put glue on the, this," you pointed at the zipper with a slight frown "the cremallera. Eh, zip-zip."

"Maybe you should do something about it." the boy in front of you took the backpack, forcing it open. It broke the zipper but at least you had your maravilloso bocata.

"Gracias! Eh, ah, quiero decir, no, wait, I mean thank you!"

You both smiled, even though his was almost unnoticeable... Heh... You could say you were special.

It didn't last a bit, too.

Sae had noticed many stupid habits you had. Fixing your hair when you were nervous, hiding every time the teacher asked something because you didn't like being picked, how you only put effort into the things that interested you... That's something both of you had in common.

But, the stupidest one by far was how you didn't face your so-called friends when they did things like this.

"You should report them." said the redhead, bringing a munch of rice to his mouth. "Are these really just jokes?"

"Bueno... I mean, well. It's not that bad. The worst thing they've done to me is when I decided to get too silly in a call where they took 12 screenshots to make them stickers."

You took a big bite off your bocata, looking at Sae. Sae stared back.

...

"I want to feel sorry for you but you make it impossible."

Pspspsps is it ooc

[dulceackles]

Ambivalent Part one - The town

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, sex, violence, enemies to lovers, alcohol, all that. Mention of dead body, a little bit of horror. English is not my first language, so sorry for typos. Also, it is a Y/N, but I've created a background story and a fictional place around it for creative and storytelling reasons. Will not be describing exterior characteristics, tho!

Summary: Dean used to be really important to Y/N but ever since he suddenly left her without telling her why, she's been avoiding even mentioning him. Now, after years, he's back in town, but not because of her. There's a case. The only things she's certain is that she doesn't like him being back.

Word count: 1k

The town of Dimdale was exactly what it sounded like; small, rather boring, and they saved electricity by switching streets lights off by midnight. Not too fancy, huh? Still, it was Y/N's hometown and even tho she sometimes had dreamed of leaving, she'd never actually wanted to pack her bags.

Oily mugs the coffee house, don't ask about the name, was the town's tourist attraction if so you could say. It had been in business since the 60s, owned by the same family, and served the world's best blueberry pie. Y/N had been working there 6 years now and, you guessed it, she loved the simple job she had.

"One black coffee, please, darling!" An old man with a gray beard ordered over the counter.

"Sure, coming up. It'd be 2.50 dollars, thank you," Y/N smiled. She was just pouring the coffee when she heard the bell on the front door ring, notifying her that a new customer had entered the café. She lifted her eyes from the coffee mug to greet the new customers, but her smile dropped the second her eyes locked with a familiar pair of green ones.

How dare he even walk in here? She thought. Dean Winchester, an asshole, liar, toxic jackass, a traitor even. To be honest, she hated him with all her heart and with all the rage she had left in her, but she didn't want to talk about it, or him, or think about it or anything... And behind him in walked Sam. About him Y/N had no ill thoughts about, but she still hated him too simply because he was related to the smallest man who ever lived, Dean. Someone could have described her as unfair, she just called herself a simple girl.

"Hey y...." Sam tried to greet her behind the counter but was quickly cut off by her.

"What would you like?" She gave them her best fake smile that also very clearly said fuck you to both of them. She handed the earlier customer his coffee, accidentally spilling some of the hot liquid into her hand. That made her hiss out of annoyance. That and the two men sitting in bar stools to be exact.

"I… Umm, I’ll take a sandwich, and he'll..." Sam stuttered, clearly taken back by her passive-aggressive character. He knew things between her and Dean had not ended well, but he hadn't thought they had ended so bad it was enough to make a grown woman act like a high school bully behind the counter.

"I'll take the sandwich too." Dean said, saving his brother from the trouble. "Soo... you still work here."

"Clearly." Y/N spat while solving the sandwiches into a paper bag. She had made the decision for them that they'd be eating on the go.

"Oh, actually, we're eating..." Sam tried to put in again, but again, he was interrupted.

"On the go. I'm sure y'all busy, I know he was last time." She gave them the same fake smile she had mastered and reached out to give them the paper bag. Dean grasped it in her hands and got up from his seat.

"It's okay, we are busy actually," He said and tapped Sam's shoulder. "Let's go."

Y/N watched as Sam got up and looked almost upset. For a second, Y/N nearly felt bad, like he had ever been nothing but sweet to her. But then she remembered that he was his brother, and that was enough reasons to hate him.

"And by the way, if you spat on it, just know I won't mind, darling." Dean smirked and then winked at her. Before turning his back, he watched, just a second, how her face turned red. He knew it wasn't a blush but a rage, and he thought a couple other customers might have clocked it too. He walked towards the door with his brother.

"Well, I'm surprised a kitchen knife hasn't flown into your back yet," Sam whispered and Dean laughed and shook his head as they get in the impala. Dean knew Y/N, and he knew that the only bullet she shoots were the bullets coming from her mouth. Well, to be fair, sometimes he had wished she would have just rather picked up a machine gun or something. Still, he thought she was adorable, even if angry. But Dean had promised himself before even stepping his foot over the boarder of this god forgotten town that he'd never drag her into his life again. Even tho they had quite a history, Dean had never told her about his real job because he didn't want to see him and real world ruin her too. No matter how cute, sweet, absolutely choleric, tempting, beautiful or enraged she was, he'd leave her be. 

She deserves better than to be dragged into this life, Dean thought. Besides, there was a case for them to battle.

"Soo.. 25-year-old woman, Sandra Rittenwell, last seen walking home from a night shift at a bar. Couple days later a body is found and well… See for yourself." Sam stretched out to show Dean the crime scene pictures he'd stolen.

"Well, that's a sight." Dean scrunched his nose in disgust. The pictures were cruel to say at least.

"Tell me about it. Surprisingly there were witnesses tho." Sam blurred out, "Victor Hills, called the police at 4am and claimed he saw a "faceless monster" take Sandra. Apparently he had been walking behind her. The police didn't take his claims seriously at first, but after the discovery of the body, they checked the nearby surveillance cameras and no "monster" had been caught in any of them. Police has no suspects as we speak, but they have had a sketch artist draw a portrait of the thing Victor saw."

"Hmm, interesting. Never seen this before;" Dean thought.

"Yup. Did some research and similar incident has happened before. In 1947 a woman disappeared, the body was never found, but locals said few had seen a similar creature in a couple of previous days, leading to the disappearance. One thing is sure, the monster has a type," Sam Said.

"Yeah, and what's that?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together.

"Women, walking home at night." Sam sigh.

"Of course," Dean shook his head for the second time that day.

// Hope you liked it, I love a feedback and hopefully I wasn't rusty. I haven't written other than school stuff in a long time. xx

Next part (x)

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[casualavocados]

im gonna break down my last gifset: the second half of the ep12 intimacy scene, because nat and louis are such good actors ive been rendered slightly braindead more than once due to how well they SOLD this scene and SOLD ai di and chen yi's love for each other through their physicality.

WARNING: if you read this and then use the words top or bottom to describe anything going on here, i will deadass block you. ♥️ don't even think about it. ♥️

this is gonna be unhinged but the mix of horny and pure adoring each other is an ever-crisscrossing line that is simply underappreciated from what ive seen in previous posts of this particular part.

so they've been making out for a while with ai di in chen yi's lap and chen yi decides to push them over… i did not cut a single frame of this btw.

starting with the first two gifs:

i love the way ai di's hand comes to rest perfectly at the nape of chen yi's neck during the impact. then there's a brief "are we gonna kiss?" half of a second before chen yi goes for ai di's neck. and ai di responds appreciatively: with his head tilted back, his hand in chen yi's hair… you see in the second gif his fingers curling a little, to gently trail his nails down chen yi's neck, wordlessly telling chen yi to keep going. and he does, moving from ai di's neck to his chest.

and here we get a moment of ai di going oh. his mouth literally opens a little wider—

—and he lifts up his head as if to check that that's really chen yi doing this to him. all the while his hand has moved from chen yi's neck/hair to rubbing chen yi's shoulder. again in a reassuring "yes that's good" way, and also, i imagine, just for the sake of touching chen yi too.

he looks at chen yi and then full body relaxes into feeling it, while still rubbing chen yi's shoulder. i cant get over ai di's face here, i can't. the whole shot is art, with chen yi kissing just below his ribs.

bc chen yi is so focused on adoring him, on pouring all this love he has for ai di into these gentle kisses and the way he's touching him, too: sliding his hand up ai di's chest to grip his shoulder in return. (also notice ai di's sweatshirt from four years ago hanging up in the background. chen yi has been waiting so long for this too and needs to show it.)

and then— WELL. then ai di slides his hand back up into chen yi's hair…

and chen yi responds to the feeling of it immediately. it's almost like ai di is saying yes, that's good, now come here, and you see chen yi's eyes open and his body immediately follow that cue. perfect wordless communication. ai di's hand is literally pulling him closer (with barely any pressure) and chen yi instinctively responds to it by making his way back up with another soft kiss.

and ai di is watching him, waiting for him. chen yi's hand is sliding along ai di's chest again… you even see ai di's legs open a little at the end of the gif to make room for chen yi to take that space again.

and chen yi does. he really does:

and he does that on purpose. (it's like he's responding to ai di's satisfaction by saying, "let me make it feel even better". while also saying "i love you this much".)

and ai di responds by intentionally adjusting himself to feel more of it:

chen yi moves back from the neck kiss and ai di really said with his body: no, don't you dare take that pressure away.

there is so much going on in those two gifs. starting with the former: you can see ai di leaning back for the neck kiss, and then his hand moves down to chen yi's hip the instant he feels the pressure between his legs, in such a perfectly instinctive movement you can literally see his fingers tighten in chen yi's hair and his toes curl at the edge of the gif. he is completely 100% feeling it. he lifts his head to look.

—& i can't get over the way ai di is always trying to see, to watch chen yi doing this to him. it's chen yi. he has to make sure it's real. he has waited for and wanted this for so long and he isnt dreaming anymore.

and then in the latter: ai di tilts his head back again a little before his shift. his very intentional shifting of hips that physically lifts his back from the bed a little to align them more comfortably and to keep the friction. this movement stops chen yi from kissing ai di's neck again, bringing him to his mouth instead— but not until after ai di's hand on the back of chen yi's neck slides down to cup his cheek. (as if this whole gif says, not only "yes, that feels good, don't stop", but also, "i need you to know i love you".)

they kiss like that: pressed together, looking at each other, ai di cradling chen yi's face with one of his hands. you can see his thumb holding the base of chen yi's jaw in the next gif:

while chen yi in turn pulls his arm out from underneath ai di to prop (only) his chest up a bit higher for the express purpose of just looking at ai di. feeling ai di touching him like this, too. both of them gentle and needy, adoring and eager; all of that fully communicated through their body language.

there is not an inch of them that isnt feeling this moment and isnt completely tuned in to both themselves and the other. it's so intimate and vulnerable and so intentional. and the fact that they are taking their time, always looking at each other, is what makes it so loving and sweet and is also exactly what makes it so hot.

it's chen yi's turn now to check that this is real. to soak this all in and breathe. that's ai di beneath him. against him. loving him.

and it takes a full gif but ai di allows maybe 2 seconds more of looking at each other before reaching up and pulling chen yi into a deeper kiss. he's waited for this for so long—

although first you see ai di's eyes flick down and back up. and let me tell you— he's not looking at chen yi's lips.

chen yi's hand perfectly supports the back of ai di's head and neck as ai di surges up to wrap chen yi in his arms—cup the nape of chen yi's neck in his fingers—pulling himself up and chen yi closer in the same movement.

and this is when and why the camera pans away. because those kisses are getting deeper. they are locked in, they're attached, they are feeling all of it, everything is intentional and loving and very clear about where this scene will be going next.

i just— this is a lot, for me. because it is so intensely loving. and also so intensely horny. like, i've seen some good sex scenes, but it takes some really incredible acting to pull off seeming so fully, devotedly, in love, and be able to show that alongside and through attraction. personally? i haven't seen any bl actors do it better than nat and louis in this scene right here. please notice, as well, that all thirteen of these gifs are of one, continuous, shot.

simply put, it's a very. very. well done scene. AND I NEED TO CHEW DRYWALL.

(final note: a reminder of my warning at the start of this post bc i am serious. there are too many infinitesimal things happening in this scene for these characters to be reduced to stereotypes that, frankly, do not matter in real life. ♥️ no need to respond to this warning either… feel free to focus on what the post is saying instead.)

and that's why chen yi and ai di are better and more real than every other bl couple in existence. ok bye.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable Part 3-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: AAAH, thank you for all the support on this. I didn't think it'd be a series but I can't stop writing.

Warnings: toxic parents, body shaming, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and swearing

Words: 7.7k

Series Masterlist

 “…and that’s how I knew that I was meant to do charity work,” the nasal redhead concluded.

That afternoon, the Si Chi house was packed with pledges in floral or puffy Selkie and Miss Selfridge sun dresses. A handful of servers circulated the foyer with trays of orange juice and mimosas. The combination of Prada Candy and Viktor Rolfe Flowerbomb made my head spin but I smiled through it as I nodded at different pledges’ stories. All of them were desperately trying to toe the line between interesting and bragging because one could never act too important for a potential house.

“That’s great news,” I glanced at her name tag, “Brenda since Si Chi regularly engages in philanthropic work.”

 Brenda smiled widely, making the hot pink blush on her cheeks even more prominent. “I know, that’s why I’m so interested in joining this---your house.”

“Well, we are glad that you took the time to visit us. Would you excuse me?”

As I weaved my way through the foyer, I plucked a mimosa from a passing server and started sipping. Exactly five seconds passed until I was surrounded by a new crop of bright-eyed freshmen.

“Oh my gosh, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a willowy brunette asked.

“Guilty, and you are?”

“She’s Justine,” a shorter brunette interrupted.

Justine narrowed her eyes and thinly covered the glare with a smile. “I can introduce myself, thanks, Renee.”

Renee shrunk a little in her oversized light blue sundress and I glanced at Justine.

“So, why are you interested in our house?” I asked.

Justine straightened up and smiled like a pageant girl. “Well, I’m perfectly aligned with all the values of Si Chi: Sisterhood, respect, and intelligence. I am all about women empowerment and I respect people from all backgrounds----I’m exposed to a bunch of different people as an actress, anyway.”

“What about intelligence?”

“Well, I think there’s many different kinds of intelligence and, as an actress, I’m emotionally intelligent to the point where I’m exhausted by everyone else’s energy.”

“She really has to prioritize self-care,” Renee added.

“It’s great that you’re aware of that for yourself.”

She had to be one of the least self-aware people I ever encountered and that was a difficult fete. However, her socials had decent numbers and she had been in a few Vought Plus movies, which would help her win Sydney and Lydia, the vice president, over. The next two years with her and her friend would be irritating.

A softer expression slipped across Justine’s face, and she took a step towards me. “I just want to say that I think it’s so brave that you’ve been participating in all the rush events despite your traumatic experience. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see Luke,” she paused and placed a hand on her chest, “kill himself.”

Though it had been a week since, it still felt like a bomb rolled off Justine’s tongue when she said it. The wave of emotions that I experienced in that time was hard to describe; Shetty said that grief was a rollercoaster, and the influx of emotions was normal.

“As impossible as it may seem, one day you will come to accept what happened,” she’d advised. “You may experience more anxiety but, with your network, I am sure you will be able to cope.”

The network she referred to was strained at best and destroyed at worst. My “sisters” were as supportive as they could be: Alina gave me a Lush self-care kit, Sasha was not nearly as antagonizing as usual, Lydia gave me grief book recommendations, and Sydney let me pick what workout classes we attended. Emma and Cate were the only non-Si Chi people I spoke to since it was way too difficult to speak to the others.

Justine placed her hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can count on me.”

“Thank you for the thought,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“You must be so grateful that Marie was there to stop him,” Renee quipped.

I sipped some more juice to keep the confusing feelings from bubbling up. Nothing could have prepared me for Marie and Andre being propped as the Guardians of Godolkin, which was arguably the dumbest name Vought could give them. The less I wanted to see them, the more I saw their promos and videos. It was horrible that the last time we spoke we had a fight but every time I saw her, I felt a weird wrench in my chest.

At the very least, Emma seemed happy for her.

Then, Coco Allen, a Si Chi junior, appeared from the crowd and squeezed between the freshmen. “There you are, Y/N, I have a crim freshman with a water manipulation ability who wants to pick your brain.”

“Sure. Will you excuse me?”

“Bye!” Renee called as Coco pulled me through the crowd.

When we got to the less populated living room, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. Then, I turned to the beaming Coco.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You know I hate entitled freshmen,” Coco mused.

Coco was the only other black girl in Si Chi and happened to be the first one to talk to me when I visited the house last year. She was a little shorter than me with deep mahogany skin that always glowed. She always wore her waist-length jet-black hair in tight curls and accessorized solely with gold jewelry. That day, she wore a fitted white sundress with espadrilles.

“Were there this many last year?” I asked.

Coco shook her head. “But there are a few more black girls so it’s promising.”

“That’s great! I hope I can find them before the event’s over.”

“That would be great.” Coco eyed me. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, the mimosas don’t hurt though.”

“They never do. You didn’t have to come today, you know, you could have taken more time, get out of here for a minute.”

I shook my head. “I needed this, it’s a nice distraction or, it has been. Besides, what would it look like if the secretary didn’t attend?”

Coco nodded slowly but I could tell that the gears in her head were turning too much for her to be convinced. “You’re already Sydney and Lydia’s favorite and they might have let it slide.”

I cocked my head at her and she immediately started chuckling half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The hoops they make us jump through are ridiculous,” Coco reflected.

“It makes sense why you didn’t want to be an officer even though you’re poli sci,” I commented.

Coco grinned. “Hey, I’m making decent connections just by being in this house. This is just a steppingstone on my path to become the first black woman supe president.”

Even though the title was long, if anyone could do it, it was Coco. One time last year I sat in on one of her debates in class and she had a senior in tears and their debate partner ready to put their laser eyes to good use.

“Well, don’t forget little ole me when you’re a big shot,” I teased.

Coco frowned. “What do you mean ‘little’? You have done too much to talk like that.”

I shrugged. “Not that they’re not as important but my four-year plan is less impressive than yours.”

“Oh yeah, the plan where you basically end up a trophy wife? No shade but, I think you’d be way too bored in that role.”

“Hey, I would have a city contract too. Plus, it’s what I want and what I see for myself every time I look into the future. Every step I have taken up until this point puts me closer to that.”

My voice was much stronger than I thought it would be but Coco was always pushing me. Some days it was motivating and on others, it was infuriating.

“Like I said, I’m not trying to crush your dreams or your plan but is that really all you want for yourself? Especially thinking about all the good you’re already doing with your powers?” Coco questioned.

Her words plagued me for the rest of the event and bugged me when we gave our ratings of the pledges to Sydney and Lydia.

“Oh, and Y/N, don’t forget to send me that compilation with all the pledges’ socials,” Sydney requested as I was on my way out of the foyer.

“Of course, you’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Everything was much quieter underwater, except for my thoughts, but those were much clearer. Every time I thought about where I would be in five years, it was the same: smiling at a city event on the arm of some suit. I never saw the man’s face but I knew he had to be somewhat attractive. My eyes fluttered closed at the bottom of the pool and I focused on my future.

It was the same image, complete with flashing cameras and I was wearing a gorgeous rose pink Oscar de la Renta gown. My hair was piled on top of my head in Senegalese twists, and I was smiling widely. However, when I tried to look at whose arm I was on, it was like I could not turn my head. The harder I tried, the sorer the side of my neck got.

After a few more seconds of trying, I pushed myself up to the surface and sucked in the air. The sky was a mix of orange, purple, and blue. Sydney was blasting “My Head, My Heart”, which signaled that she was getting ready to go out with Eric Landon, the president of Sigma Kappa. It would be nice to be asked on a date, a proper one without the expectations of sex later.

My face warmed at the fact that I had never actually been asked out. People constantly told me how good looking I was but that did not translate into boys falling all over themselves for me. There were the occasional fun nights out but it would always end in that same venue. I didn’t think I asked for too much: flowers, good morning and good night texts, respect, intelligence, and ambition. Emma told me I watched too many movies once and while that could have been true, I also thought that it wasn’t too much to ask a guy to hold a door open.

It also did not help that Jordan was the last person I ever got close to being intimate with. I groaned at the thought and dove underwater, making my way to the other side of the pool.

An almost-kiss should mean absolutely nothing but I could not stop thinking about it, just like I could not stop thinking about how Jordan would throw me under the bus to save themselves. I would never do that to anyone, especially not someone I cared about.

But you already did, the voice in my head hissed.

Marie didn’t count, I didn’t mean to do that; Andre, Luke, Cate, and Jordan decided for me. I would have stayed if it was my choice but that didn’t matter to Marie or any of them.

I pushed myself from the side of the pool and butterfly stroked my way to the other side. Thankfully, the water was heated and soothed my aching muscles. As I was about to resurface, I noted a blurry tall blonde figure standing above me. When I pushed up, Cate stood over me, her eyes worried.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi, can we talk?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, I was wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing across from Cate. Her eyes shifted around for a moment before she suggested we headed inside. When we got to my room, she immediately closed the door behind us.

“Is there any way someone would have listening devices in here?” Cate asked.

“No,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure? There’s shit out now where they put it in the tiniest crevices and you would never know,” Cate argued.

“I would have seen it or had a hint about it. What’s going on?”

Cate finally sat on my bed, and I opted to stand across from her. “Andre and I found some stuff that makes Luke and Brink’s deaths way more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, they totally cleared out his room the day after he died and I mean everything.”

My eyes widened. “Even the…special drawer?”

“Yes, and at first, I thought it was protocol but what would they do with all those----”

“I get it, Cate, what else did you and Andre find?”

As Cate continued to speak, I could feel my stomach sink further and further, until I was sure it was somewhere in the house basement. Nothing Cate said meant anything positive for anyone. If there was some kind of lab under us, that meant anyone could become a part of it.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

Cate huffed and leaned back on my bed. “Well, Jordan’s been spiraling about Marie and the rankings, so I can’t get a word in about anything else.”

“They’re spiraling?” I asked.

“You haven’t talked to them since Luke died?” Cate asked.

When she said it like that, it sounded like I committed a cardinal sin. After that day, there was nothing else for me to say to them. Even though I saw them in class occasionally, I never spoke to them and desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

“They could have reached out too,” I muttered.

“You’re such a younger sibling,” Cate commented.

“It’s true!” I whined.

“Well, they’ve been freaking out about the rankings since they fell down to number five and Andre’s number one.”

Being in the Top Five was like Jordan’s lifeline. They’d always shared a friendly rivalry with Luke but I knew they wanted to be number one eventually. They spent almost all their time making sure they stayed in a high position and to drop to bottom of the Top Five must have been devastating.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and your new best friend cracked the Top 100 and is Jordan’s new nemesis,” Cate added.

 I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a chocolate brown loungewear set. “Neither of them are my friends.”

Cate frowned. “Seriously, what is going on with you? The other night, you and Marie were inseparable, and you and Jordan were bantering. What happened?”

It must have been the fact that I was holding all my thoughts and feelings in because I burst.

“Marie and I can’t be friends since she thinks I’m a shallow bitch who would sacrifice her to save myself because I hang out with people who do. The funny part is that Jordan admitted they would backstab me if they could get ahead, which is definitely not something I would do to a friend or anyone I almost kissed!”

I was panting by the end and my chest felt a lot lighter. However, my nerves began to build when I noticed Cate’s mischievous grin.

“Who did you almost kiss?” Cate asked.

“That’s not the point,” I mumbled.

Cate stared at me for a second before lighting up. “It was Jordan, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You hesitated which means I’m right. It could have easily been Marie though since you were all over her.”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was being nice!”

Cate held up her hands in a relaxed defense. “Chill, Y/N, it’s okay to like more than one person at once.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“At all?” Cate quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” I pouted.

Cate looked unimpressed and I felt even more unimpressed since I knew that I liked Marie and Jordan platonically.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later but, I don’t think Jordan would tell you that they would backstab you and they would not think about it. They would do it to other people, but not you.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re your friend and you weren’t there.”

Cate cocked her head to the side. “Think, Y/N, did Jordan really say, ‘I would backstab you if it would save my ass’?”

As I recalled the memory, I slowly rocked back and forth on my heels. “They didn’t say that but, they didn’t answer me when I asked if they would.” “You probably caught them off guard,” Cate reasoned. “I’m sure if you talked to them, things would go okay.”

I hesitated and set my clothes on my bed. “Let’s say that I decided to speak to them, I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, my class tomorrow isn’t with them.

“You’re not going to the Think Brink gala tomorrow night?” Cate asked.

Earlier that day, Mom mentioned something about a gala on the phone but I was only half-listening. In my defense, there was only so much complaining about her clients and Dad that I could stand. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and “Go to Brink gala” was in bright letters on my calendar.

“I guess I am,” I concluded.

“Then, you have some time to figure it out. You might get lucky and not even have to say anything.” I nodded and messed with the charm on my phone. “But what about Marie?”

“You’ll figure that out too. Indira’s taking her to the gala so, you can get both your ‘friends’ back,” Cate said, putting “friends” in air quotes.

“Why did you do it like that? Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean I am. Think about it, would you be this freaked out if we had a fight?”

The “yes” should have come immediately but it didn’t; it died in my throat, and I couldn’t look at Cate. Why were things different with Marie and Jordan? Why did I stress out about them when I tried to stop thinking about them?

“Can you just make me say the right thing?” I asked.

Cate mulled it over for a moment. “I think it’s best if you do it yourself. If you don’t have a vision about it, something will come to you.”

“Thanks, Cate. If you and Andre need any help snooping----”

“You will be the first person I text,” Cate assured.

“I was going to say that I’ll probably know before you.”

I narrowly avoided the pillow Cate tossed at me and laughed at her effort.

“Maybe you are getting a little too cocky, Y/N.” She stood and walked over to me. “And for the record, I would never betray you in any way, neither would Andre or Jordan. If either of them did, they would have to deal with me.”

“Thanks, I would hug you but I’m still soaking wet.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. I know this might be useless but try not to worry about everything.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You’re taking the meds from Indira?”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“Just trying to help.”

Strangely, that was the first night since Luke’s death that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The trend was that I would strain myself to have premonitions until I was exhausted and tried again in the morning. For once, sleep found me quickly.

After sitting through a two-hour lecture on trauma’s impact on villains and heroes, I was more than happy to wander back to the Si Chi house and decompress. In a few hours, Talia, Mom’s assistant, would arrive with options for the gala. Then, the glam team would arrive and do their best to ignore Mom while they did their jobs.

I needed all the relaxation I could get.

 As I was mentally reviewing which movies I could watch, my phone kept buzzing in my back pocket. I thought it was another flurry of comments on the TikTok Coco and I made yesterday but it was from a strange number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Y/N, pls come 2 my dorm, it’s an emergency.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Im srry we haven’t talked in a while but it’s important.

I frowned and typed back, ????

XXX-XXX-XXXX: It’s Marie. Emma’s in trouble.

My stomach dropped and I replied, B there soon.

As I raced around other people on campus, my thoughts moved faster at the possibility of what could have been going on with Emma. The last time I had spoken to her was two days ago and she was okay then. If anything, she may have been tense because Marie and I were not speaking but she had not said anything else.

I was halfway to their dorm when I ran into something solid.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Maverick sneered.

“If you put on some clothes, maybe I’d see you,” I shot back as I continued down the hall.

When I finally got to their dorm, I was panting and could barely knock. Marie pulled the door open, pulled me in, and closed the door behind me.

“Did you sprint here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You said…it was…an….emergency…Emma.”

In the middle of me grabbing my bearings, I noticed something tiny next to one of the supports on Emma’s bed. Slowly, I slid to my knees and crawled over to it. When I realized who it was, a choked gasp escaped my mouth.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. She was like that when I got here and I didn’t know what to do so I called you since you’ve known her the longest,” Marie rambled.

Her words barely registered in my brain as I went to one of Emma’s drawers, grabbed a small set of clothes, wrapped her in it, and carefully set her on her bed. Emma was barely breathing and was ghostly pale.

“Emma, I know you’re probably not going to like this but, you’re going to need to eat something.”

She didn’t reply and for a second, I wondered if she could.

I started rifling through all her stuff until I found a box of crackers. My hands trembled as I broke them into small pieces and kneeled in front of Emma. She never looked at me as she nibbled on each crumb I fed her.

Eventually, she grew back to her normal size. As soon as she was, she pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” she muttered.

Slowly, I sat next to her and it was almost the same way zookeepers treated wild animals. If one moved calmly enough, they would not get attacked. Marie sat on her bed.

“It’s okay, I’m glad we were able to help,” I replied. “What happened?”

Emma sniffed. “I opened up to this girl in my class. We’re scene partners for a project and we were talking, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to tell her about how I get small. I thought it was just between us, but she posted this…this video on YouTube telling the whole world about it.”

“Who’s the girl?” Marie asked.

“How do you get small?” I uttered at the same time.

Emma froze for a moment and looked away from me. “I make myself…sick.”

When she said it, I suddenly remembered all those times she would go to the bathroom and then come out a miniature version of herself. However, all those times, it was for different commercials or other work-related events. Then again, there had to be times when she did it at home or at my house.

How did I never notice? “Emma, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” I said.

Emma turned to me with a glare in her eyes. “Really? How would I work that into a conversation? ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but, I make myself throw up to get small’?”.

“We’re friends, friends tell each other this kind of thing,” I insisted.

Emma scoffed. “Please, like you would get it if I told you. You’re perfect, you always have been. Your face, your hair, your body, your eyes, your life!”

“That’s not fair.”

“Emma, I think you need to get help,” Marie interrupted.

Emma’s gaze flickered to hers and I thought she might set Marie on fire. “I need to get help, that’s rich coming from you. You act like no one can see your scars.”

Marie flinched and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do that for my powers, that’s different.”

Emma laughed callously. “Please, at least be honest. How about this: I’ll go to therapy when you admit to cutting.”

Emma’s voice had no tone and every word she said was like a hammer slamming into my chest. She wasn’t in the right headspace for any conversation and I kept reminding myself as I stood.

“We should talk later when we’ve all calmed down,” I suggested.

“I don’t want to speak to either of you again,” she hissed.

It took more effort than usual to swallow the lump in my throat as I let myself out of their dorm. Just as I was about to lean against the door and wallow, Marie slipped out behind me and shut the door. I took a step back, barely avoiding a pair of girls rushing past.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s fine.”

Silence filled the space for a moment, and I had no idea how to fill it. Cate said I would know what to say but I was at a loss.

“I’m sorry about what I said…that day,” Marie delivered gently.

My eyes snapped up at her. “Oh.”

She sighed. “I was just angry, and I thought you were a part of it but, Emma kept saying that you would never do something like that. I just didn’t know how to reach out or say anything.”

I know the feeling.

“I accept your apology but I’m also sorry that no one came back for you. I guess it worked out, though?”

Marie sighed and leaned against her door. “Sort of. The perks are nice and I’m in crim now but I feel like everyone’s looking at me and expects something from me; almost like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

“Really? They had me convinced you’d be the black Starlight,” I teased.

Marie laughed half-heartedly. “I still want to be a hero, though, someone like her people can look up to.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Marie hesitated. “My little sister. We were both obsessed with heroes when we were younger, but I was the one who got Compound V. She always looked up to me and I want to be someone who would make her proud.”

“That’s a really admirable goal,” I complimented.

She smiled softly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be my competition to be the black Starlight?”

My expression faltered and I looked down at my French acrylics. “No, I don’t think I have the showmanship you do. Besides, my goal isn’t to be in the Seven.”

“Really? What do you want to do?” Marie asked.

“So, I have this four year plan and if I follow the steps I am on to a T, I will graduate with a city contract and be engaged to an eligible supe.”

Usually, when I told someone my four year plan, my chest swelled and my shoulders rolled back unconsciously. This time, it felt like I was a toddler showing my mom a drawing I made in school.

“Is that it?” Marie asked.

“I know it’s more traditional and maybe even a little lame but, it’s what I want,” I maintained.

Marie nodded slowly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just imagined you doing something in, like, criminal AI or stopping criminals from re-offending.”

“Both are great, they’re just not me.”

“Which is fine,” Marie insisted.

She sounded a little too eager but I let it go as we started walking down the hallway.

“What should we do about Emma?” Marie asked.

“I’ve never seen her like that before but she’ll need time to cool off.”

“Sounds good, I just have nowhere to go until the gala tonight.”

“You could come to Si Chi for a bit. I can’t promise they won’t try to initiate you, though.”

Marie laughed. “Me, in a sorority?”

“Hey, we’re getting more black girls this year so you never know!”

“Whatever but, yeah, I’d like to hang out with you…at your house.”

Even though Marie rushed the last part, a smile quirked on the corners of my mouth. It would be nice to have a new friend over and it was even nicer that there was no more tension between us.

“You know, Emma never told us the name of that girl,” Marie pondered once we got outside.

“Oh, that’s easy.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right one.

Shelby answered on the first ring. “Y/N, hi!” “Hey, are you on your way to class?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I’m late one more time, Professor Elix is going to make me do an improv one-woman show!” she panted.

“Well, I don’t want to slow you down but, you have class with Emma Meyer, right?”

“Oh yeah, Intro to Stage, why?”

“Cool. She told me her stage partner has an incredible Insta aesthetic, but she never told me her name and I need new inspo.”

“Oh, that’s Justine. I don’t know her last name but I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Shelby. Have fun in class.”

“Thanks!”

I hung up and turned to Marie, whose eyebrows were raised. “What?”

“What was that voice?” Marie asked.

“It was my voice. Haven’t you heard of code-switching?”

“Fine. Did you get the name?”

“Yes, Justine and I’ve met her.”

“What? How?”

“She’s rushing Si Chi.” I couldn’t keep the devilish smile from working its way into my mouth.

“What does that look mean?” Marie asked.

“It means that there are many more perks to being in a top house besides living in it.”

For some reason, everyone thinks that white girls have a monopoly on passive aggression and relational aggression. That was not the case at all; black girls simply are more inclined towards active aggression but we’re capable of both. I proved as much during Brink’s gala.

The ballroom was packed with board members, trustees, alumni, and the wealthiest GOD U students, the latter being my target of interest. They were all easy to approach since I had met them at some function or another.

“Y/N,” Bianca Peterson gushed as she hugged me.

Her Gucci Guilty perfume tickled my nose and I willed myself not to sneeze as I politely pulled away from her. “Bianca, it’s been too long. I think the last time I saw you was at Beta Ro’s Brunch for Boy Scouts.”

Bianca nodded, light auburn curls bouncing around her sculpted features. “Yes, we bonded over jewelry.”

“And you still have fantastic taste,” I mentioned, gesturing to the gold buckle around her wrist.

“Thank you, it was a present from Theo but I gave him a few hints,” she bragged lightly.

“How is rush going?” I asked.

“Pretty well, our pledges are shaping up nicely this year, not that they don’t every year,” she quickly added the last part.

“Of course. Do you have a lot of girls from Counting?”

“We’re interested in a couple, why? Are you trying to poach?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, I just wasn’t sure if you heard what Layla from Zeta Nu discovered.”

Bianca raised a microbladed brow. “No, I don’t think I have.”

I took a deep inhale and slowly shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, well, I should let it come from her then.”

A moment later, Bianca glanced across the room at Layla Ruthers, the president of Zeta Nu, who was smiling politely at a pair of hunched-over old men.

“In case I don’t have a chance to talk to her, what happened?” Bianca asked.

I glanced around us for a moment before leaning closer. “Apparently, a freshman posted a video about another girl’s eating disorder.”

“Really?” Bianca’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “Layla was insulted for the other girl and banned the pledge from rushing Zeta Nu. She even said that no respectable house would accept someone so low-class.”

“Oh,” Bianca uttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up all your time. I should go mingle.”

I made it about two steps before Bianca gently grabbed one of my arms.

“Wait, Y/N. Did Layla say the name of the pledge?”

My eyes wandered around the twinkling lights of the room for a second. “Justine something, I think.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure!”

The rest of my conversations followed that pattern. Each girl I spoke to was shocked and horrified by my words. Plus, none of them would dare speak to the other; that would mean another house had better information than them. My final target was easily the most important one: Sydney.

In her ice-blue mermaid dress and intricate updo, she looked more like Cinderella than a gala attendee. She was standing at a table, nodding her head at something a shorter guy was saying.

“Excuse me,” I politely interrupted, “I need to borrow Sydney for a second.”

The guy deflated slightly. “Sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Sydney huffed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot. “Thank you, I don’t know what he was even talking about.”

“Anytime,” I replied.

She snatched a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it. “I can’t wait for this night to be over.”

I nodded. “It is morbid despite their attempt to dress it up.”

“Yeah, and my parents won’t stop bugging me about my future. I can only apply to so many internships and not everyone is looking for a telekinetic,” she griped. “Sorry, how are you?”

“I’m alright. Ironically, I think he’d hate the name they picked but I didn’t know him super well,” I admitted.

“Right.”

Here it goes.

“So, I think the event the other day was a success,” I commented.

“Definitely. The house was packed. It’s too bad we can’t accept them all.”

Sydney smiled as she spoke.

“I know. It’s great that there’s so much interest.” I paused for a second. “But, I wanted to tell you that something came up with one of the pledges.”

Sydney gestured for me to continue.

“Even though my social media deep dive on the pledges was thorough, something came up today that I thought you should know when considering the pledges,” I explained.

“Okay.”

“Today, Justine posted a video exposing another girl’s eating disorder. Several of the girls were upset when they saw it.”

“That’s awful,” Sydney responded.

“It’s also so disappointing since I met Justine during that event, and she was saying how women empowerment is important to her. I know that women empowerment is a huge passion for you and a foundation for Si Chi and to imagine a pledge so willing to tear down another woman infiltrating the safe space you building is horrifying.”

Despite the liquor, I could tell Sydney was processing my words quicker than any computer. Her expression shifted from shock to anger to coldness. Then, she finished the last of her champagne and set it on the table closest to us. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

As she walked away, I grinned widely at the response. Bid Day was going to be even more fun and interesting than last year. To celebrate, I grabbed myself a flute of champagne and sipped it as I started to wander the room.

“Y/N!”

My body froze at the masculine voice and my mind raced with what to say or do. Finally, I decided to face Jordan. They were in their masculine form and standing at a table by themselves. Though they looked fantastic in their navy suit, they looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello.”

I practically sang it and prayed for someone to make the floor swallow me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I walked closer to their table and rested my forearms on it.

 “It’s good to see you,” he started. “Outside of class, I mean.”

“You too.”

Jordan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s good.” He paused. “I’m sorry about everything.”

I looked up from tapping my nails on the tablecloth. “Wh---”

“Please, let me finish. That day…I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you that I wouldn’t throw you under the bus but I wouldn’t even think about it. How could I do that to my little freshman?”

For the first time ever, my chest warmed at the nickname. However, I tried to bite back the smile that was worming its way onto my face.

I glanced away for a moment, crossing my arms over my purple sleeveless satin gown. “Well, I guess I forgive you,” I playfully grumbled before turning back to him. “But you still did it pretty easily to Marie.”

Jordan’s expression faltered and he sipped some champagne. “Don’t mention her.”

“Why not? She’s my friend and we did a very mean thing,” I argued.

“Look, I protected myself and you that night, I won’t apologize for that. Besides, she’s still here and she’s doing great,” he spat.

“I know you’re pissed about the rankings but, those can change, especially with how hard you work and how powerful you are.”

Jordan scoffed. “That’s how it should work but no one wants to back a bigender Asian.”

His words made me stop for a second. In all the time I knew them, Jordan seemed invincible to punches, laser beams, electric shocks, and words. They made succeeding at Godolkin look so easy but it must have been anything but. Plus, Luke and Brink’s death must have impacted everything else.

“We’ll see about that,” I challenged. “There’s about thirty trustees and every board member in this room. There will have to be a few who will like you.”

Jordan hesitated. “I’m not really in the mood to promote myself.”

“Then let me talk,” I offered.

He eyed me for a while before crossing over to my side of the table and looping one of his arms with mine. “Don’t make me look bad, freshie.”

“I think that’s impossible.”

The first target was easy: a thirtysomething white guy with floppy light brown hair and an oversized gray suit. I focused on him for a moment, gathering as much information as I could.

“Trevor Emerson, GOD U alum and old money beneficiary,” I muttered to Jordan.

“Isn’t he supposed to hate me?” Jordan hissed back.

“He’s overcome by white guilt since his recent discovery that all the black and brown people who built and managed his family’s manor were not salaried employees,” I explained. “He’s dying to look as much of an ally as possible.”

Jordan straightened up. “Good job, freshie.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” I painted a polite smile on my face. “Mr. Emerson, it’s so nice to meet you, can we bother you for a moment?”

Two guilty and three haughty donors later, Jordan and I found ourselves at a different table. It was the first time that I saw him smile that night.

“You were amazing out there,” Jordan exclaimed.

“Thank you but you also made my job a little easier being talented and whatever,” I joked.

“Seriously.” Jordan grabbed my hand. “You might have saved my ass.”

I tried to ignore the tingle that shot up from my hand into the side of my neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.”

When they announced that the video was about to start Jordan sulked again. “I can’t believe they’re making us sit through this shit.”

“Me neither.” I rest my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner but, are you okay?”

Jordan laughed humorlessly. “No but schmoozing with you did help a little. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

When we parted our separate ways, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress skirt and approached my table. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had not burned down the ballroom with their arguing. In fact, when I got to their table, Mom was on her phone and Dad was rhythmically tapping his fingers against the tablecloth, looking anywhere but her.

“Hi, were you bored with me gone?” I asked, giving Dad a side hug.

“Not at all. I met a few board members and sold a few pictures,” he responded.

I nodded and slowly took the middle seat between them. The video was equal parts patronizing and infuriating. However, my parents’ whispers kept me from focusing too much on the video.

“Y/M/N, can you get off the phone for one second? They’re playing the video,” Dad hissed.

“I am about to cut the biggest deal of this quarter. They can send it,” Mom hissed back, waving a manicured hand for emphasis.

“Mom, people are starting to stare,” I quietly interjected.

“Let them stare. This is what’s paying for you to be here.”

“Don’t act like I don’t contribute!” Their words used to make me flinch but I forced myself to sit up straighter and breathe.

“I’m grateful for it, for both of you, really. You both paid to be here and I thought you would not want to miss the man they’re honoring,” I whispered.

Those words made Mom slowly mutter something into the phone before placing it face down on the table and leaning forward. At that same time, they flashed a picture of Brink and me across the screen. He had been meeting with my small group when the photographer appeared.

Dad squeezed an arm around my shoulder and I softly leaned into his touch.

“Thank God you lost that baby fat,” Mom commented.

“Y/M/N,” Dad said quietly.

“You know it’s true, Y/D/N,” Mom hissed back.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm felt like a boa constrictor, and I gracefully slipped out of its grasp. When the video ended, I drank a fresh flute of champagne. The bubbles instantly went to my head as I giggled at Dean Shetty introducing Marie.

She looked really pretty even though she was nervous.

“Do you know her?” Mom asked over the applause.

“We’re friends,” I replied.

“So why is she a guardian and not you?”

“She was more involved in stopping Luke than me,” I lied.

 When Dean Shetty cued everyone to return to socializing, Mom turned to me.

“Your grades are fantastic and your standing in your house is good,” Mom began. “But eligible bachelors will not notice you unless you stand out like her.”

“Y/M/N, leave her alone. Anyone who doesn’t notice Y/N isn’t worthy of being in our family anyway,” Dad defended.

Mom ignored him. “That girl, Marie Moreau, is not your friend, she is your competition. You are in the prime setting to have everything you’ve ever wanted but she could snatch it from you. You’re supposed to be able to see things like this coming, Y/N.”

“I do see things coming and I know Marie wouldn’t do that to me,” I quipped.

At that moment, Mom’s eyes bore so deep into me that I didn’t think that anyone could claw them out. Her eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head at any moment and I could feel my breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” I promised.

It felt like forever until she leaned back in her seat and grabbed her phone.

“Make sure it doesn’t ‘slip out’ again. Now go socialize.”

“I need a minute, Mom, I’ve been socializing since we got here.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“What?”

“Y/M/N, please.”

“No, no, Y/D/N, she is constantly using, what, anxiety to get out of speaking to people. You are always too soft on her and make me look like the bad guy. I’m the one helping her be normal,” Mom snapped. “Anxiety didn’t exist when we were her age, we just did what we had to do, and look where we are now.”

I wondered if Emma ever felt as small as I did in that moment. Then, I wondered if she ever made herself small to hide from people, even her mom. Wordlessly, I left the table and tried to avoid any cameras as the tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my trembling chest and keep my throat busy. My chest shifted from trembling to heavy and I started looking around the room.

“I hear one piano…feel two fingers…smell three different alcohols…and see---”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cate’s voice broke me out of my rhythm and I glanced to see her sitting with Marie and Jordan, who was in their feminine form.

My chest felt much lighter and I quickly wiped away my tears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan called gently.

Cate pulled me into a hug and had me sit between her and Marie. “What happened?”

“My parents, well, my mom mostly. I guess I got too anxious for her, and she yelled at me,” I rambled.

Cate smiled softly. “Then you came at the perfect time. We were just talking about our horrible parents.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

“Well, mine are dead,” Marie commented.

I turned to her and placed my hands on top of hers. “What? I’m so sorry. How did it…”

“I accidentally killed them with my powers,” Marie explained.

“That must have been horrible.”

Marie barely nodded and I squeezed her hands. “I just told my little brother to go away during a camping trip. He never came back and my mom pretty much locked me away,” Cate confessed. “I was seven.”

 “What?” I whispered.

“I killed my grandpa with my powers,” Jordan interjected.

We all turned to her and I cocked my head to the side.

“No, you didn’t,” Cate countered.

Jordan smiled. “You’re right, I was feeling left out.”

I didn’t think that I could laugh the way I did but it felt so nice. At least I had friends again.

When I started sipping on the whiskey Cate stole, I saw a brief image flash before my eyes. There was a guy with curly brown hair covered in dirt running away from several bloody bodies. He paused for a moment and opened his hand, revealing a tiny sleeping Emma. When the vision left, Andre was standing in front of us.

“Seriously?” I complained before he even spoke.