#they might even force you to sink just so that they could have the honor of pulling you out

[proximacentaurib]

I’ve noticed that people are very bad at seeing gray. Very, very bad. They’ll see gray and they’ll call it something else, anything but what it is

[corroded-hellfire]

A little blurb I came up with in honor of our High Lady’s birthday and the winter solstice. This is modern!eddie x reader who seem to bump heads when it comes to their respective fantasy series: Lord of the Rings & A Court of Thorns and Roses. Thank you to @big-ope-vibes and @fracturedarkness for reading this over for me 💖

Words: 733

Dustin lets himself into your apartment as he always does. One of the very first things you and Eddie learned when you’d moved in was to make sure the front door is locked if you didn’t want hordes of teenagers just busting in at all times of the day.

“I can’t believe you think that’s better!”

Dustin hears Eddie shout from your shared bedroom and the younger man sinks down into a kitchen chair with a groan. Maybe he could make an escape before either of you noticed he was there. It’s not like you could have heard him come in over the volume of your argument.

“God damn it, not this again,” Dustin mumbles to himself as he stands up.

He isn’t quick enough though. Eddie stomps out of the bedroom, you hot on his heels. You notice Dustin before your boyfriend does and throw him a quick, semi-forced smile before turning your attention back to your boyfriend. Eddie gives him a nod in greeting before your reply.

“You have no taste! Arwen sounds like the name of a hotel maintenance repair guy! My daughter will not have that name.”

Eddie scoffs and shakes his head.

“And what, your top pick is so much better?” Eddie spits out.

“Yes!”

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yet you say I’m the one with no taste?” he asks.

“Feyre is a beautiful name! What’s wrong with it?”

Eddie pulls out the old, worn blue chair that’s across the table from Dustin and plops down into it. He looks imploringly at one of his best friends, not even sure what he’s asking for. Backup? Agreement? Would either make a difference?

“What about Galadriel?” Eddie asks. “We’ll call her ‘Gal.’”

“That’s worse than Arwen!” you tell him as you walk to the fridge and grab a drink. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand before he can get the words out. “If you say ‘Éowyn’ I swear to God you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Dustin rolls his eyes as Eddie stands up again, taking a few steps closer to you.

“Éowyn sounds like that other name you suggested!” he argues.

“Amren?” you ask. Eddie nods and you shake your head. “They are entirely different names. And I think I’ve given you some great options.”

“Haven’t heard a good one yet,” Eddie says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

One hand slams your drink down before it rests on your hip while the other you hold up in front of your face so you can count off the names on your fingers.

“Morrigan, Nesta, Elain!”

“Uh, you know,” Dustin pipes up as he begins to stand, “Elain sounds pretty reasonable.”

“Gimme a second, Dustin,” Eddie says, waving a dismissive hand at his buddy. The shorter man just rolls his eyes and plops back down in his seat.

“Samwise!” Eddie hurls at you, upping his volume. “It could work for a boy or a girl! Call them Sam.”

“If we’re going with that, we might as well go with Rhysand! Call him Rhys!” you shout back.

“I see we’ve moved on to boys now…” Dustin mumbles to himself.

“Legolas!” Eddie barks.

“Cassian!” you snap back.

“Aragorn.”

“Azriel.”

“Boromir.”

“Lucien.”

Eddie smirks and you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously.

“What about Tam—”

“You shut your damn mouth,” you hiss, pointing a finger at him.

Eddie scoffs and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Dustin stands up, emanating a deep groan.

“You guys!” he yells, louder than both of you had been. It catches your attention and you and Eddie look over at him. “Will you two stop arguing over these names? Holy shit. You’re not even pregnant—you’re not having a baby! God damn it.”

Dustin shakes his head and walks towards the front door, clearly exasperated from just being in your home a few minutes.

“Maybe I’ll come back after you do have a kid and all this bullshit will be over,” he mumbles as he walks outside. The door reverberates as he slams it shut behind him.

A moment passes before you and Eddie tear your eyes from the door to meet each other’s gaze. Your boyfriend arches an eyebrow at you.

“So, the name Dustin is a no go?” he asks.

“A definite no.”

[animeyanderelover]

Request: Could you do Indra, Madara, Tobirama, Kakashi and Sasuke on their wedding night with their female s/o?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, forced marriage, Nsfw, forced sex, breeding, Kakashi being kinky

Wedding Night

Indra Otsutsuki

💜 Marriage is sacred and so is the wedding night for Indra. Claiming his darling in all ways possible is a must for him so he can find some sort of inner peace. He's been rejected by his own father which has broken something inside of him, no matter what. His s/o is the only person he has left and Indra will bind her to him. What you really want doesn't matter anymore to him, he's too caught up in his almost paranoid obsession to keep you by his side, to guarantee that you won't have the chance to betray him too. The small and lonesome traditional wedding is forced upon you yet you have to give him your vows, promise to stay with him for eternity. You know that he means it though when he gives you his vows with a feverish look, swears that you two will never be apart, not even after death. If you thought that Indra was already possessive before the wedding, he steps his game up after you've given your vows to each other only more. Indra values the vows you two have exchanged after all. Now you are forever.

💜 The wedding night won't be wasted either. Marrying you and claiming you excites Indra, showcasing just how deep his possessive needs really run. During the whole ceremony he's been rock-hard already, held himself back to honor the marriage and your vows. As soon as everything has been done though, he savors this special night. You're all but thrown onto the bed and Indra makes short work of your and his clothes, leaving you exposed to his heated gaze savoring what is now his. Indra cares enough to at least cater a bit to your own pleasure as well on this special night so he goes down on you first with his tongue to loosen you up enough for you to take him. He'll get pissed if you try to cover your moans and groans though, will bark at you with an agitated voice to not deny him your sounds of pleasure if he's already being considerate enough to spoil you like this. As soon as the pressure in your stomach snaps and you unravel for the first time in front of his eyes, the real fun starts.

💜 There is no time given for your pussy to adjust as he all but rams himself inside your walls, his hands pressing your hips down when you arch up with the sudden intrusion. His pace is brutal and fast, hips snapping against your own whilst his own hand has both of your wrists pinned above your head, allowing him total control. Harsh and sucking kisses are pressed everywhere he can reach, the sting from his teeth sinking in and biting down adds to your shame after a while to the overwhelming pleasure he provides. In time your neck and your whole chest is covered in colorful love bites, sure to remain you on this night where you were completely claimed by Indra. The final step for Indra to claim his s/o is by breeding her, providing him an heir. His thrusts are deep, his swollen tip kissing your cervix every time he buries himself inside your clenching walls with the dreadful promise of filling you up and leaving you swollen with his child. You snap a second time, your juices coating his member whilst he fucks you through your orgasm before settling deep inside of you and unloading his seeds in your womb. Your exhaustion has him smiling amused. After all you two are far from done yet.

Madara Uchiha

🌑 With the incarnation of Indra, you just have it coming for you. Madara is almost more of a possessive bastard than Indra was, only that he might have more troubles arranging the marriage than Indra. That's simply because his clan wants him to marry someone good who can provide later on a strong heir for him and have selected already a couple of women for him. Madara is relentless in his revolt to marry his sweet and snarky darling though and rudely rejects anyone else. He's set his eyes on you and it's better for the eldest to realize that they can't win against Madara and just cave in. He's so smug during the entire ceremony since he knows that you can't do anything against it. He's going to marry you, whether you want it or not. His clan is fairly big so it's a really grand marriage too, the Senju clan might attend too, at least Hashirama does. He flaunts you to everyone as soon as the vows are exchanged since you're now at last Madara's one and only precious wife. Only his.

🌑 He's been rather touchy during the whole ceremony already, undeniably thrilled to have you as utterly his in law and now the only thing left is to make you utterly his physically. A wedding night is highly held in the Uchiha clan and Madara isn't one to go against such a valued tradition in his own clan, especially since he's been looking forward to this all day. He's in a rather good mood so it would be a precarious decision to worsen him this day. It can decide on whether he's going to be nicer to you or more mean so make no mistakes. One thing that is going to be certain is that you're going to be railed in the sheets though with Madara barely able to contain this possessive thrill of watching you becoming undone by his cock and feeling your poor warm and spongy walls trying to take him in. You at least get some preparation with his rough fingers if he's feeling all good and spoiling although that sill doesn't save you from the sharp breath you let out when he pushes himself into your hole.

🌑 With the way his hands dig harshly into the flesh of your waist and the way he sucks and bites greedily every bit of skin he can reach, you're undeniably going to see the reminders of this night for weeks to come. He's the one with the dominance here, not above making fun and teasing you somewhat rudely the moment you can't even form a coherent sentence anymore with the way he launches himself into you, brushing against all the right nerves that have your toes curl. You feel him deep inside of you, his swollen member hitting your cervix relentlessly and forcing multiple orgasms out of you. He loves how he destroys you though and forces you through multiple rounds to the brink of exhaustion until you look like you're going to pass out any moment due to his sheer amount of stamina. He wants you to be fully conscious and look at him whilst he rearranges your guts and feel everything though so he always pinches you harshly in your nibble or slaps you on your bare skin to get your attention back on him. His clan wants an heir of his and Madara wants to see you bearing him a strong child too so you're put through never-ending breeding as rope after rope of potent cum is shot into your womb.

Tobirama Senju

🌊 Marrying him is unavoidable, especially with him being part of the famous Senju clan. Despite appearing to be a workaholic who wouldn't want to bother with marriage at first, Tobirama certainly holds a marriage in high regards and would value the promises exchanged. The marriage is as grand as traditional, with the whole Senju clan attending. Chances are that you might not have consented to this completely but Tobirama is far above you in position and power and for that the pressure on you is immense. He'd be quite hurt though if you were to reject his proposal since it takes a lot of time and trust for him to even ask you for your hand in marriage. After the pain comes the indignation and his damaged pride though and that's when hell comes back for you. He knows that it isn't right but he can't help his darker instincts and especially during the ceremony you're forbidden to slip up and do a mistake in front of his brother and the eldest.

🌊 He saves himself for marriage, that's just how traditional he is. With that said though, if he really forced you to marry him, Tobirama will at least be considerate enough to not make you hate him even more by ripping your honor apart even more. He seems to draw the line by forcing you to have sex with him as he can't ignore his guilt at this point. Instead he leaves you with your thoughts and feelings in shambles after you had to play all along during the wedding ceremony, terrified what the man would do to you, not to mention the clan eldest who put effort into arranging and preparing the marriage. Then there's also Hashirama who was so happy for his brother and you that it was almost too painful to watch. Assuming that you do agree with him to enjoy the wedding night, Tobirama certainly will be a bit harsher with you too. From the way he all but presses you into the mattress to the way he hammers himself into you, although he gives you some time to adjust to his impressive cock.

🌊 He lets in one single night essentially out his pent-up frustration as much as sexual tension, leaving you almost unable to do more than just take him and let out moans, especially when he rubs against that spongy spot inside of you that has you quivering. He's relentless in his pace and all you're able to hear from him are his occasional groans and low rumbles when your walls clench around him and try to suck him in even deeper than already. It's only after a few rounds where he has barely given you a break to become a bit coherent again that he finally slows down now that some of the stress and tension has been released and finally becomes a tad bit more loving and affectionate to you. You're a sweaty mess, panting desperately for air and can only groan exhausted when you feel his already hardened member sinking into your sloppy hole once again. This time he's much slower though, much sweeter with the feverish kisses he presses against your face and neck and promises that this is the last time for tonight. Despite his clan's interest, he doesn't want any children yet so he tries to pull out shortly before he comes, letting his cum splash against your dripping cunt.

Kakashi Hatake

📖Marriage does not hold the biggest meaning to Kakashi if he has to be completely honest. He would be content just keeping his darling for himself as it is although he knows that it would be a good way to tie you closer to him. As his wife, you'd certainly have to stay true to the role the law has given you, especially since he's such a respected jonin and later on even Hokage. He's going to keep it within a small circle of close friends and acqaintances though and is almost a bit casual with it. He doesn't want to make a big ruckus out of it by having too much people invited as guests and surely his possessive side speaks out of him too when he sees you in your outfit and already feels a bit salty that others got to see you in such pretty clothes. He acts very chill and laid-back but especially if this isn't completely to your agreement, there seems to be an underlying threat in the way he squeezes your hands a bit too tightly in his own and how he gives you his vow.

📖Similar to Tobirama though, he draws the line where it would have to involve him forcing himself on his darling. Sure, it could happen that he makes out passionately with you but it never escalates to the level where he forces himself inside of you. Considering that he's in general a bit pessimistic about marriage though since he's seen enough people being unfaithful even inside of one, it's probably the more likely scenario that you were the one who wanted to marry and he just agreed because it's what you wanted he knew of the advantages it would bring him. A wedding night isn't anything new for you two in that case since he's already taken you for himself multiple times before that, the books he reads can certainly leave him horny and with lots of creative ideas he'd love to try out. Then again, if it's so important for you he plans to make this one night especially special although you know what that means in his vocabulary. You know he's going to make it interesting for you.

📖He's kinky and experimental so there's no such thing such as you simply lying down and him just taking you, at least not for more than once. The man has saved himself a bit for this night simply to be able to go for even longer than he already can with his considerable amount of stamina he has. Kakashi stays true to his promise though and provides you with anything but a mundane and boring time. You go through different positions such as doggy, cowgirl lotus or you simply riding him and even the surfaces change as Kakashi certainly won't be limited to only a bed. He also brings out a box filled to the brim with things you two can try out or do again but lets you choose this time explicitly what you want to do. You're pretty much spoiled for choice with all the toys, ropes and handcuffs you find. You should make use of it as good as you can, it probably won't happen too often that Kakshi lets you do as much as you want to do with him. He uses everything he has to please you and make you squirt over and over until he has to carry you to the shower to wash you clean. Only to end up not being able to contain himself and take you once more under the shower, hopefully for the last time.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙His clan has gone extinct and so you might be tempted to think that Sasuke as a stray who wanders around wouldn't value the sacred bond of marriage. Well, you're certainly mistaken in that case as the teachings of the Uchiha clan still live on in Sasuke and do not forget that he's the second incarnation of Indra. He longs to bind his s/o to himself until death may tear both of you at old age apart as the typical Uchiha possessive attributes speak strongly out of him. You may be against it as much as you want but you won't be able to escape what he has planned for the both of you and his cold glare coupled with the harsh grip of his has you shutting up. The marriage is only between the two of you as there are absolutely no guests who are going to attend. This is meant to be a moment only between the two of you and Sasuke would hate to have it ruined by loud guests. He's firm in his decision to put you through the entire ceremony, is secretly saddened that you dislike the idea of marrying so much.

💙The wedding night is meant to be special and even if that thought doesn't apply to you, it applies to Sasuke who plans to savor every hour of it. Whilst he knows that he might just force himself on you, it has been made rather clear that the thought of marrying you has turned him on. Throughout the whole preparations it happened more than just once that he pulled you aside only to end up making heatedly out with you, marrying you clearly thrills and excites him in his possessive needs. So the wedding night has to be used to it's fullest to solidify that sacred bond fully. You truly feel how the marriage had it's effect on him since you've rarely seen him that touching, his hand is everywhere exploring every inch of your body, his mouth not leaving yours as his tongue dominating your own. You're pressed into the mattress, unable to move as his hands and his whole body weight hinder you on escaping. If you try to resist he'll warn you with activated Sharingan to not ruin him this night.

💙His Sharingan will be used either way to memorize every facial expression as you're ruthlessly submitted to his abrasive and deep strokes, leaving you only able to gasp for air and let out whines and moans of pleasure. Sasuke doesn't let out much sounds besides a shuddering breath when your walls squeeze his cock tightly or a groan when he feels his balls tightening before emptying himself inside your warm and welcoming insides. He gets a bit sweeter as time passes on, might remove some of the sweaty hair clinging to your face and mumble some praise and encouragement in your ear. Besides fully enjoying claiming you from the outside and inside, Sasuke wants to achieve something though and you know what that is because he's tried to coax you into it already before. Bearing his children. Especially now that you two are married, he thinks it's the perfect time for children. He wants to create a new Uchiha clan with you and with every rope of cum he shoots deeply inside of you, he hopes for it to take and grow into a new life inside of you. He has reduced you after hours of nonstop breeding to a sweaty mess, something he finds mildly amusing as you barely recognize him entering your sloppy pussy once again.

[ohbo-ohno]

holy FUCKING SHIT BO YOUR BRAIN IS MASSIVE

Conquerer!Simon invades Princess!Reader’s kingdom, and when he takes over he plans to have Reader’s parents (the king and queen) executed, naturally. Reader is just desperate to save her family, and offers herself up to Simon, knowing full well what he’ll do to her, in exchange for her parents being allowed to live. Johnny, Reader’s personal knight, refuses to let her go alone, and also offers himself to Simon (he has a massive crush on Reader and can’t bear the thought of not being with her!!!!)

Reader’s parents and court are begging their beloved daughter and princess not to do this, it’s not worth her honor and spirit, but she can’t just let Simon kill her family!!!!!! He forces Johnny to take her virginity while he watches and then fucks both of them himself until they’re sobbing :(((( Reader is sooo scared of this enemy invader barbarian, but he’s also super hot and she never knew anything could feel as good as when he fucks her, so she does her best to behave even when she’s paraded through her former kingdom in chains and concubine clothes and her people nearly riot 😣😣😣

I have sooooo many ideas for this I might just have to write it

~🦋

yeah the mutual noncon of ghost forcing johnny to take the princess' virginity is really doing it for me this lovely tuesday morning. feeling sick and deranged as usual

also actively messaging ceil about this au and losing my goddamn mind

johnny's so teary, can only sob and apologize as he tries to stretch you out for him, feels so so guilty that he's even hard at the sight of your naked body but... he's been in love with you for years (something something your childhood best friend who you always wanted to marry becomes your personal guard so he can stay by your side the rest of your life bc he's not of noble blood and can't marry you) and he's finally finally finally getting his hands on you. he hates it, but it's been his greatest wish to be with you for so long

if only there weren't a conqueror guiding his every move :/

and ghost does not let them forget about his presence. he's mocking the both of them for their arousal, laughs when they choke on their own sobs.

and johnny isn't exactly good at sex. he's as much a virgin as her, he's lucky he doesn't come the second he sinks into her heat. so ghost has to show him how :( grabs him by the hips real rough, shows him how to fuck like a man, how to fuck his princess' pretty cunt, how to make her feel good

but johnny still isn't getting it :/ keeps rutting into her like an animal. so ghost slicks himself up, gives johnny a few fingers to stretch him, then sinks inside to show him how a real man fucks. holds johnny's hands over the princess' hips, thrusts his hips forward and sends johnny's forward too.

johnny's collapsed on top of you, face turned to the side, so ghost gets such a pretty visual of the two virgins he's ruining at once

[astral--horrorshow]

Around-The-Clock Shadows

Platonic Yandere ROTTMNT x Reader

Info: This will be a full-length fic including multiple ROTTMNT characters, the main storyline revolves around the Mad Dogs

Fic Summary: You sure are likeable, aren't you?

《Previous Chapter》

Chapter 3: A Room With No View

Characters: Raph, Leo, Donnie, Mikey

A/N: I'm so so so sorry for the wait!! I had a nasty case of writers block for a while!! I'm going to try to upload every thursday, but that might change if the series continues into the school year.

If you want to be added to a taglist, just say the word! If you want to draw fanart or make anything based off of this, I would be literally honored. Please don't be shy, I will love whatever you make! If you have any questions about the fic, feel free to ask!

TW: Kidnapping, toxic relationships, reader gets hit with a tranq

I do not condone any of the behaviors found or done in this fic. This story is purely for entertainment purposes. If you or someone you know is being treated like this, please contact the authorities.

Chapter Summary: The brothers finally take you home

Word Count: 1400

☆~☆~☆

Your sock-footed shuffled across the carpet in your hallway, and into the bathroom. As you scrubbed your teeth free of any plaque that had built up over the day, your thoughts wandered to your favorite jacket and the Purple Dragons. Your jacket had been ruined, somehow. It had juice all over it! You didn't even know how it happened, and now it was runied! Even when you had ran it through the wash for the gajillionth time! You huffed sadly, forcing your thoughts to turn to your friends. They were acting weird. Kendra had been even more snappish and irratable, and she took it all out on Jase, who seemed relieved about something, but you couldn't fathom what.

Putting your toothbrush back in the mug on the sink, you started to head towards your bedroom when you heard footsteps. They were gradually growing louder, though you couldn't feel them.

The footsteps stopped.

You clenched your eyes shut, hoping that whoever it was would go away.

Then suddenly, a voice broke the uncomfortable quiet.

"Should I try to hide

The way I feel inside

My heart

For you?"

You opened your eyes again, recognizing the sound of the record player. You laughed at yourself as you went to turn it off. You should've remembered that the song opened up with footsteps. You finally headed to bed, relieved. You, ignoring how the record player was even turned on in the first place, assured yourself that you were in your own home, and you were perfectly safe.

Oh, how wrong you were.

When you were walking back to your bedroom, you felt a sharp pain in your neck. It was sudden, and before you had even been able to reach up and see what it was, you fell unconscious, your face plummeting towards the floor. Leo knocked Mikey out of the way and ducked under Raph’s arm to catch you, scooping you up before you could even hit the ground. He supported your back and the underside of your knees with his arms, pulling you close to his chest and spinning around. When his spin turned him towards his brothers, they were glaring at him, clearly irretated at his antics.

Leo merely grinned in response to their narrowed eyes and crossed arms, simply strolling past them towards the front door. His brothers shook off their annoyance, and excitement and relief bubbled in them as they walked out the door and shut it behind them, marking the last time you would ever see your home again.

☆~☆~☆

You felt terrible.

That is, your body felt terrible. Your mouth was dry and you could feel the bitter taste of the air on your tongue. Your entire being felt rusty, slow, wrapped in cotton and unable to move or produce a single coherent thought other than, “I feel terrible”.

You felt weak, and your bones ached like you were 100 years old. You opened your eyes to be greeted with a dark gray ceiling in a dimly lit room. Though it was extremely difficult, you pulled yourself upright, observing the place you were in. You were in a large bed with tons of stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets adorning it, in an odd bedroom. It looked like somebody furnished an underground bunker, because the walls were made of dark gray stone, and there wasn’t a window in sight. Turning your gaze to the bedside, you silently gasped and threw your hand to your mouth, which made a loud slap echo throughout the room. The creature that made you react the way you did was a sort of humanoid turtle wearing a bright orange bandana around his head. He looked up from his sketchbook, and his gaze locked on you.

Not for long, though, as his eyes lit up and he squealed in what you could only recognize as euphoria as he dropped the sketchbook and pencil he was using to the ground launched forwards at you, capturing you in an embrace that left your ribs aching and your lungs desperate for oxygen.

You panicked internally, who was this? What was he? What were you even doing there? Questions, panic, and fear mixed into a cocktail of emotions in your head, it was all too overwhelming for you. When he finally released his grip on you, he brought his three-fingered hands to your cheeks, and began to pinch and squeeze them like he was a grandmother doting on her grandchildren.

“You’re finally awake!”

You jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, and you tried to pull away from his blue-green hands. To no avail, however, as he had an iron grip and you had a weakened body. “Where am I?” You asked him, voice scratchy from dehydration. “Oh, you poor thing,” he cooed, “Have a drink!” He grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table, and when you tried to reach out and grab it, he held it away from you. “Let me do that!” He cheerfully said, screwing the cap open and finally letting you hold it, although he kept his hands extremely close, as if afraid you might drop it. Feeling the cold, sweet water slide down your dry throat was akin to drinking nectar from the heavens. You tried to drink the entire bottle in one go, but the creature once again pulled the bottle away. “Don’t drink too fast, you’ll drown!”

Feeling much better, you asked your question again. “Where am I?” He gazed at you for a moment, before snapping back into his cheerful demeanor. “Oh, I have to call the rest of your new brothers! They’ll be so thrilled!” Before you could even wonder who the “rest of your new brothers” were, he opened the door, which you leaned forwards to try and see out of, and yelled down the hallway, his voice echoing, "HEY, GUYS, THEY'RE AWAKE!" You jumped yet again at his sudden yell, not knowing his voice could be that loud. Footsteps thundered down the hall from both directions, all sounding different. Three more of the creatures burst through the doorway, all of them different in many ways, but you could tell that they were all turtles. The giant one in a red mask held out his arms and approached slowly, like you were a small animal he was attempting to pick up.

"Hi, little buddy," he softly said, creeping ever closer. You instinctively backed up as far as you could go, frightened and confused. "What's wrong?" He asked, his arms lowering and his head tilting to the side. He actually looked confused about your discomfort.

You swallowed harshly, your widened eyes looking up at the turtles fearfully.

"I-" But before you could even get your sentence out, the one in purple spoke for you. "They're obviously confused, Raph," He said, putting a hand on his hip and frowning dissaprovingly at him. "I thought we all agreed that we were going to introduce ourselves first,"

"Raph was getting to that!" He said, his energy in the sentence leagues different than the soft demeanor he had just seconds earlier. He stood upright and cleared his throat, his head now turned away from the purple guy. He faced you again, a sweet smile on his face. "My name is Raph, little bud. These all are all of your new brothers," He said, gesturing around, "I'm the oldest!" He exaclaimed cheerfully, pointing his thumb to his chest and being the second to not elaborate on the "new brothers" part. The purple one stepped forwards, about to introduce himself, but the one in blue shoved him to the side and stepped directly in front of you. "I'm Leo, and I'm only just about the greatest ninja around these parts!" He boasted, also pointing a thumb to his chest.

"Yeah, okay, 'Nardo," the purple one said, shoving Leo in return. "Ahem. I am Donatello," it was all he had to say, and he looked down at you, as if he was studying you or something. "And I'm Mikey!" The orange one chimed in, raising an arm in the air. Once he was done speaking, they all looked down at you with something sinister in their eyes. "Okay..." You spoke with hesitation, "...Where am I?"

They all stared at you, and you froze. There was something more than sinisterness in their eyes. Raph spoke up.

"You're home, of course!"

☆~☆~☆

A/N: I'm sorry ya'll I originally tried to delete the part where Donnie is called a purple guy but i couldn't make myself. Also, chapters are probably gonna get a little longer from this point onwards!

Taglist <3: @yanteetle @ssak-i @oleander-nin @averagerottmntsimp @katswritingcorner

[xappetites]

sleep together in the stars

Rodolfo Parra x Reader | just fluffy riding this man on the couch and a bunch of praise because it's sundress season | word count: 1,696

“What?” 

It’s a sweet question, asked in the sweetest tone, with Rodolfo’s darling eyes on you.

It half takes you by surprise, mostly because you’ve been standing there in the middle of the kitchen, stuck in your head. Staring at him as he dries his hands and finally sinks into the loveseat. The last plate snug in its cupboard and table cleared. 

And you don’t really know how to answer, being honest. Not sure how to put into words the feeling that’s been eating at you for most of the dinner, turned sobremesa, turned merienda. From the moment Alejandro turned to your boyfriend, big smile and shining eyes, clapping his shoulder so hard, Rodolfo almost spilled his coffee.

“So, you got yourself a spitfire.”

It’s a compliment, you can tell even if this is your first time meeting Colonel Alejandro Vargas, shining star of the Mexican Special Forces and the most important person in your boyfriend’s life, after his mom. It should feel like an honor, how readily and completely you’re ‘approved’ of, but something in your stomach fucking flips in the most unpleasant way.

It's the story of your life. A long line of: spitfire, bossy, strong willed, bitch. Sure, you’re friendly; people like to be around you, just not for a romantic relationship. Not when you’re as vocal about what you like and don’t like as you are. No man wants to feel like they’re in the middle of a test and bombing it , you’d been told once. You can’t even take a joke.

But it was easy to dismiss, coming from men who had let you down in one way or another; who made it clear that they weren’t looking for a partner, not really. You could have a good cry about it, work through the frustration and move on.

With Rudy, it’s a terrifying thing. You like Rudy, like him for real; feel your chest swell almost painfully when he so much as looks at you, especially like this, when he makes it seem like you’re the only person in the world for him.

You don’t want him to tell you you’re impossible, don’t want him to even ever think it. Honestly, if you could, you'd love nothing more than to curl up in his arms and do whatever he wants, because you trust him with the outcome. You could leave your heart in his hands and bet money on him being careful with it. You just don’t want it to end up being a burden.

So you keep this ache to yourself; choosing instead to kick your shoes off and find your way to him, to stand between his legs, bracketed in and fucking safe.

Even this feels too much, though, the rushed way you bend in half to kiss him. And you try to soften your desperation, sweeten the way you gasp into his mouth, that turns to humming when his hand grabs a firm hold of your thigh. His solid, calloused fingers indenting the flesh over the summer dress you usually wear to impress him.

“Amor—”

“Please,” you interrupt, clinging to his neck like you’re begging, because you are. And he must see it clear on your face, since he drops it in favor of tugging you down to straddle his lap.

“Come here.”

He guides you, waits patiently as you settle. Steadies you with nothing more than a light touch over your waist and his eyes tracking the path of your skirt. Riding high, inch by inch, just enough to show him how your skin slowly meets the rough fabric of his jeans. And the roll of his hips that follows might start as an instinctive reaction, but he makes it this slow, dragging thing against you.

You’ve come to know this as something Rodolfo does from time to time, a teasing so loving and full of promise that it makes your teeth ache. He’s not riling you up just to pull away, he’s simply taking his time. A constant buildup of careful kisses, like he’s trying to coax the thought you won’t share with him out of your mouth.

He shifts again, close as he can get; forcing your stance wider, lower, until you feel his half hard cock bumping insistently against your clit. And his hand lands, encouraging, over the curve of your ass. So, you start rocking your hips, short of breath at the way he lets you taste his moan straight from the source.

“Así, amor. Steady.”

He means don’t rush, you know this too, let me feel you. It’s in his eyes, pleading, until you give him the rhythm he’s looking for. You’re rewarded with open, unashamed praise falling honeyed on your tongue.

It has you panting, straight up sobbing, mumbling his name into the silence of the living room with every word he speaks into you. To the point that the forced, controlled pace makes your thighs shake and then Rodolfo’s hands are guiding you to your feet again.

“No, Rodolfo—“

Your voice sounds almost panicked even as he moves with you, hooking both thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and nuzzling the space between your breasts as he peels the lace off you.

“I’m here,” he says, almost mouthing it against your body. Sighing a warm breath that raises goosebumps wherever it reaches.

You can feel him smiling at how easy it is to fit a finger inside you, to add another one in the second stroke.

“God, you’re so wet for me.”

“Yeah, for you. Just you, Rudy,” it’s a babble, your answer. Caught in your throat with the effort of twisting your body to kiss him, because you know it’s the only way to distract him enough to work his cock out of his pants.

He moans, loud. And your mind goes lopsided with need until you’re sinking down around him, like a fucking puzzle piece, like it was always meant to be.

You tighten inside, a spasm of muscles, and he’s sure you don’t know what you do to him; how hard it gets him to see the tension fall off the line of your shoulders at just the weight of him inside you. How your sigh has him clawing his way back from the edge. It’s a contented sound, a ‘finally back home’ sigh, and it has his heart on his throat, his pulse beating in double time at the base of his cock.

It’s why he suggested this dinner, most Vaqueros have a similar system with one another, someone who understands the implicit request in a meeting like this. The ‘in case something happens to me…’

A measure Rudy never thought he’d resort to, until you were the first thing on his mind while he crouched behind a half dilapidated car, shots ringing all around him, and he realized there’s no coming back from you. He could spend every night watching you melt against him, feeling your pretty little cunt holding him tight, and still beg for more. He’ll live his life hiding from his mom that your birria is ten times better than hers, he’ll take the crabby, pre-coffee, good morning grunt and he’ll kiss it off your lips to make you smile to start every day.

He doesn’t know if you know, but he wants you to, so he tells you. Mouths an ‘I love you’ into your collarbone in time with the rolling of your hips. Rough and sweet and useless to resist, like the tide coming into shore.

Pleasure rises from his gut, tensing his spine and driving his hands up, up, until he’s cupping your cheeks, keeping you in place so he can watch your eyebrows pinch with effort.

“I love you so fucking much,” the confession comes out out of you stumbling, mostly involuntary, pulled out of you by the fingertips that skim over the back of your neck. And you don’t notice the tears ‘till Rodolfo swipes them away with his thumbs.

“Why are you crying then, amor?”

It’s overwhelming, both the affection he graces you with and the way he thrusts up, gentle but insistent. He feels so deep, such an intrinsic part of you, that you will never be the same after this. Nothing past the panic in your gut and the humming in your clit, shoving you towards an orgasm that feels like it might undo you.

“I don’t wanna lose you, I don’t want you to get sick of me,” in the aftermath, hours later, you’ll be surprised that he made sense of the whimpers that have your shoulders heaving, but he does.

He rocks you in his arms, one hand sliding to grab your hair, not painfully, just pressure that grounds you. An unwavering hold so you can let go, coming so hard that you’d be screaming if you could.

“I’ll never get sick of you, I can’t get enough of you.”

You barely hear his words, attuned instead to the groan that warps them, putting emphasis in weird places as he fills you. But you believe him, with his heart pounding against yours. You surrender to the warmth of him all over you, taking over your world.

“You know he meant it in a good way, right?”

Rodolfo’s voice is soft, probably much softer than he needs to be once your breathing’s evened out and you’re simply slumped there against his chest.

“What?”

“When Alejandro called you a spitfire —you flinched.”

You do it again right then, a quick full-body-contraction that earns you a kiss on the crown of your head.

“It’s just, no one’s ever meant it ‘in a good way’ before.”

“He does. I do. I won’t ever say it again if you don’t like it, but I promise I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Ok,” nodding is uncomfortable in the position you’re in, hoping he understands how much you trust him.

Rodolfo promises a lot more, he thinks. Though, he knows it’s too much right now, so he keeps it quiet in his heart: he’ll show you he’s telling the truth, he’ll keep coming back to you from the worst of it. And he’ll never let you go.

[miniscule-meow]

Making Friends (Charlie and Felix)

Writing Masterpost Prologue | Next Part Word Count: ~6.5k Warnings: Language, Fearplay

---

Charlotte took her campus tour with her map in one hand and a highlighter in the other. She took note of every building she would find her classes in. She even took herself to each classroom the day before school started, just so she knew that she knew exactly where she was supposed to be going. She was one of three students to be awarded a presidential scholarship. A full ride. An honor that is rarely bestowed upon a transfer student. AKA, the only reason she could ever even dream of coming to this school. This is the first time she won't be walking in the steps of her brothers, hiding in their shadows. She's going to forge her own name for herself here, and she isn’t going to mess this up.

Charlotte takes her seat towards the front of the modestly sized classroom. The class is small enough for heads to turn when the door opens 5 minutes after the class had begun, to watch a dark-haired boy wearing all black stroll in. But the class is large enough that the professor merely nods to him, and he’s able to take his seat without much notice. His gaze snags on Charlotte before she can look away. Instead of quickly diverting her gaze, she offers a warm smile, gesturing to the seat next to her, a friendly invitation. A grin unfurls across his lips, sharp and entirely unkind. He strides past her to take a seat somewhere in the back. His footfalls are heavy on the old tiles of the classroom, entirely too confident for someone rolling into class five minutes late. Strangely enough, she feels her cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“Now this is your first assignment, so it isn’t going to be anything crazy,” Dr. Lamont says, standing behind a worn wooden podium at the front of the room. “I have assigned partners for this project. Consider this to be a built-in icebreaker for you and your new peers. Maybe you’ll make a new friend from this assignment, in which case you can thank me later. And before you all groan too loudly, don’t worry, you will have free choice of partners for all other projects in this course.” Dr. Lamont reads down a list of names, pairing students off. Charlotte ends up being paired with Felix Westwell.

Charlotte scans the classroom to find her partner, and her heart sinks when her eyes meet with Mr. Self-Important at the back of the class. He looks vaguely annoyed as he nods a greeting to her, an acknowledgment that they will indeed be partners. Great. He’s going to make this really fun. She thinks, turning back around. Dr. Lamont finishes pairing off the rest of the class before prompting everyone to move around and get started.

Charlotte turns back around, motioning once again to the seat beside her, inviting Felix to come up and sit by her. He’s leaned back in his seat, his arm draped across the back of the chair next to him. He looks like he might prop his feet up on the desk at any moment. Judging by the lethargic tilt of his head, she can tell that he has no intention of getting up and moving seats. He simply stares back at her and tilts his hand, the smallest gesture possible to invite her to join him instead.

Fine. Sure. Since it’s obviously incredibly inconvenient for him to do it, I’ll move. Why not? She thinks bitterly, quickly packing up her things and moving to the spot next to him. Thankfully, he’s at least made some space for her by removing his arm from the back of her chair, electing to cross his arms instead.

“I’m Charlotte,” she says keeping her tone polite, in an attempt to force the sour taste of her first impression of him out of her mouth. There’s no need to stoop to his level. She’s always been a believer that a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet. Just because he came in late, doesn’t seem like he cares that he’s here at all, and has an air about him that just screams I THINK I’M BETTER THAN YOU, that doesn’t mean that she’s going to get a bad grade on this project, start the semester off behind, have to work extra hard to catch up but to no avail, lose her scholarship and have to drop out of her dream school.

That’s probably not going to happen.

So, she should just be normal about this. All she can do is put her best foot forward and maybe he’ll come around. They might even become friends… or she could at least figure out where she’s seen his name before.

“Felix,” he returns evenly.

“It’s good meet you,” she says with a friendly grin. Felix’s only response is a slight quirk of his brow. His pale green eyes regard her with a look that she can only describe as ‘generally disinterested.’

They’re off to a great start.

Well, that was more than enough pleasantries for the both of them, she decides, getting out her laptop. She cracks her knuckles to try and diffuse the awkwardness she feels, before navigating the school’s website to the assignment page. “It looks like, 12 questions, each with 3 sub-sections. Each— jeez,” she adds under her breath before she reads, “each question is to be answered in a full page, double spaced, 12 point, Times New Roman font. Citations sourced in MLA Format,” she turns to Felix, who has made no move to get out his own computer and is instead looking at the assignment from over her shoulder.  “Don’t worry, the first assignment isn’t crazy,” she says, her tone jokingly mirroring Dr. Lamont’s, “It’s just a very casual 12-page research paper. I’d hate to see what a crazy assignment looks like.” She grimaces, and Felix just hums despondently, which she takes as a sign of agreement. “Alright. So, what does your schedule look like? We can meet up to work on this together a couple times throughout the week and just knock it out,” she offers.

“I’ll just take the first six questions; you take the second six. We’ll put it together in a shared doc. It doesn’t have to be a whole deal,” he says, sounding bored.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that works,” she feels her confidence dash down to the ground. So much for making a new friend today.

---

It made sense in theory. They had a full week to complete the assignment, each of them could do one question a day giving them one full day off from working on it. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Charlotte updates her questions, she’s completed four of them, Felix has done a whopping zero. She didn’t get his phone number to bug him about it. She supposes she could send him an e-mail about, but that seems… somehow that seems rude. Not that she thinks he would spare her any kind of courtesy if the situation was reversed. But still, she’ll see him tomorrow in class, they’ll be able to touch base then.

Of course, by tomorrow they will only have two days before the assignment is due, meaning that would be an extra three questions a day for her if she ends up having to pick up his slack. She hates group projects. She goes ahead and finishes up one extra question today, just in case.

It’s not like she has anything else to do. No, just five other classes. But whatever.  

Tuesday rolls around, and she takes a seat next to him. At least he was on time today. He doesn’t make any move to broach the subject of their assignment, so she supposes it’s on her to take that step.

“If you had no intention of actually doing the assignment, I wish you would have told me. Because now, I’m going to have to do everything in two days and I hardly see how that’s fair. You might not care about this class or whatever, but I read the syllabus, and the group projects are actually worth a sizable amount of our entire grade. I really can’t afford to be playing catch-up for the entire rest of the semester because you decided that you were too good for the coursework,” she says to him in a harsh whisper.

“Good morning to you too,” His nonplussed expression makes her blood boil.

“I’m serious. I don’t know what your situation is, but I’m here on a scholarship. That’s the only reason I’m at this school. Please tell me you’re actually going to participate in this project so I can figure out if I have the time to pick up your slack or not.”

“Charlie,” he says, having apparently nicknamed her. “I’m not here to sabotage your GPA.” He turns his laptop to her, showing her a document of his questions, filled out and formatted. “I just don’t like working in shared docs. I was going to put it all in there when I was done,” he shrugs, “I’m sort of here on scholarship too, so I’ve got to be on my best behavior. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Oh. Okay.” She says, all her momentum gone, “sorry.”

The class period passes by one painful second at a time. The other groups seemed to have hit it off, as the class is filled with idle chatter while everyone works on the project. Charlie and Felix sit side by side, working on their own questions in an awkwardly tense silence. After class, Felix packs up his things with incredibly speed, and he’s out the door before she can try to embarrass herself again by asking if he wants to get lunch.

Whatever. Not everyone can be your friend.

After that, the routine becomes fairly monotonous. With the assignment turned in, there’s no need to bother Felix any further, so she goes back to taking her seat towards the front of the classroom. He goes back to sauntering in late and paying her no mind.

She doesn’t see him much aside from that.

But, she certainly hears a lot about him though. He’s garnered quite a reputation in the school’s rumor mill. Apparently, someone’s bestfriend’s brother’s cousin knew him from way back when, and they claim that Felix is a Super. That in and of itself is not entirely uncommon, but it is strange that he would be going to school in this area. Bayshear is sort of known as being one of the areas still almost entirely Mundane. So, then of course the rumor began that he was exiled from all of the Super communities. A lot of talk is centered around trying to figure out what it is that he can do, and how dangerous he might be.  Charlotte is of the opinion that, either way, it’s none of her business, and though he seems pretty grumpy and standoffish, that doesn’t make him a danger to society.  Some of the rumors insist that he was sent here as a spy, claiming that his ability has something to do with mind-reading or invisibility? It’s all incredibly unlikely, and she’s learned every rumor against her will. She has been approached by a handful of classmates asking about him, since she was partnered with him. She quickly was proven to be an incredibly boring person to ask about this, as she had absolutely no information, and she wasn’t particularly keen on brainstorming the hypothetical possibilities. It seems as though any conversation she tries to have with anyone loops right back into her saying, "I don't know, we did one assignment together and we didn't really talk much." Most people are much less concerned with trying to befriend her, and more concerned with trying to get information out of her. She doesn't remember making friends being quite this challenging.

It’s a few weeks later when she sees Felix in between classes in the courtyard. There are two other guys with him. She doesn’t recognize them, and at first, she feels a pit of jealousy in her stomach. So, he does have friends. What’s so wrong with her that he’s snubbed her so many times? Then she sees one of the guys turn and give him a hard shove, and she realizes with a start that they are not friends. A smarter person would have turned and walked the other way, or maybe they would have hung back and watched like some of the other students in the courtyard. Charlotte rushes forwards.

“You think you’re so tough,” the one that shoved him jeers with a fierce smirk. He’s taller than his friend, with dark short, cropped hair.

“Come on super-boy. You’ve got the whole school talking about you anyway. Lets give ‘em something real to talk about. Or what, is the big bad wolf too chicken?” The second one sneers, obviously thinking himself to be so very clever for coming up with that one, since another favored rumor about Felix seems to claim that he is some kind of... werewolf?

The rumors are truly mostly nonsense, paranoia and brain-rot. But still, seeing this immediately stokes a righteous fire inside of her, and she shoves herself in between Felix ad his nameless bullies.

“Hey, step off. Stop acting like a bunch of stupid high schoolers, and just leave him alone! Do you even hear how idiotic you sound?” She scowls up at them.

“Oh, look here. super-boy’s got himself a girlfriend,” the first boy laughs, it’s a cruel sound. On one hand, she’s succeeded in diffusing the situation between the bullies and Felix. But now, she’s placed herself right in front of the firing line. In hindsight, this might have been a bad idea. People are certainly going to talk about this. She doesn’t really care what people say about her, but still, is sacrificing her own social life really worth it for someone who obviously doesn’t even like her? This was probably something she should have thought about before she just went and acted on her gut instinct.

“Babe, one night with me and you’ll forget all about this loser,” the ‘clever’ one gives her a wink and tweaks her chin with his thumb. Charlotte slaps his hand away, her gut twisting with dread. That’s all she has time to do before Felix grabs her shoulder, pulling her back and roughly shoving her behind him. She stumbles to regain her balance, and when she looks up again, punches are already being thrown.

She takes a stagger step back as they tussle. The passive onlookers have become an active crowd around the scene. Everything is a blur of bodies, elbows, fists, voices. Until suddenly Felix shoves himself out of the circle and just takes off running. The bullies don’t pursue him, they shout after him and laugh over their victory. It seemed apparent that no superhuman abilities were utilized in that fight. Some people seem disappointed, they wanted a better show. Of course, Charlotte imagines that in a couple days the story will be so blown out of proportion, it’ll just be more unintelligible garbage.

She can hear it now, no, no dude I swear, I saw him shoot lasers from his eyes.

It was the craziest thing, he totally had super strength. He was just trying to hide it.

Blah Blah Blah.

Charlotte decides to run after Felix before anyone can turn their attention back to her.

He had run into the woods by the school. He got quite the head start, but as she’s moving through the forest, she can see the leaves and bushes ahead swaying, recently disturbed. Her lungs burn by the time the path opens up into a clearing, Felix stands in the center of it, gasping for breath himself. He whirls around as she bursts out into the open after him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turns on her viciously, his eyes hold an all-devouring malice.

“Gah, hold on. I had to run like a mile to get here,” she huffs between breaths.

“No one made you follow me,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Do you always put yourself in the middle of fist fights, or is that just something new you wanted to try out today?”

“Those guys were jerks. I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she says a defensive air rooting in her words.

“Oh, how noble of you,” he says sarcastically. “Why should you care? At this point I honestly don’t know if you know this, but we are not friends,” he paces the clearing with a shake of his head.

“I don’t know that you need to be someone’s friend to not want them to get beaten up,” she frowns, looking at him.

With a frustrated huff he rakes a hand through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face. They fall back again when he removes his hand. “Sure, fine. Whatever. Why are you here now? You want to bring back more dirt for the fucking gossip column you’re running?”

“Absolutely not. I haven’t said shit about you,” she fires back defensively. “I just,” she hesitates, her reason feeling incredibly lame now. “I wanted to make sure that you’re alright?” She tears her eyes away from him, not wanting to catch the cruel glint in his eyes.

He barks a laugh, it’s a sound that is more made of frustration than any kind of amusement. “Oh, yeah,” he scoffs, “I’m doing great. There, mission accomplished. You can go now.” She brings her gaze back to his face, his eyes flash with that familiar danger, it seems to be mounting by the second now though. He’s obviously not doing great. His cheek is bleeding, and his eye is probably going to bruise. He waves a hand flippantly her way, dismissing her.

Her embarrassment and dejection are quickly shoved aside by something new. A fierce rage ignites inside her, bubbling out in her words. “Why are you so determined to be such a pompous ass?!” His brow flicks up at her outburst.

“That’s just how I am. Sorry it doesn’t match whatever you imagined me to be like in your daydreams,” that suspicious glint returns to his gaze as he regards her.

“Is it really so hard for you to believe that someone might just genuinely want to be friends with you?”

“Yes,” he responds simply, “It is actually. There is nothing keeping me from believe that you aren’t just here chasing all the rumors.” He takes on a mocking tone, “oh he’s a monster? No, I bet he’s just sad and misunderstood. He’s broken and I can fix him with the power of friendship.” Felix sneers with another roll of his eyes.

“You are so delusional,” she shakes her head, balling her hands into fists by her side. “I don’t think you need to be fixed. I just wanted—”

Before she can finish that thought, he’s crossed the clearing in just a few long strides. Her words die on her tongue as his hands clamp down over her shoulders. It very suddenly occurs to her that they are completely alone out here. Perhaps he’s every bit as dangerous as everyone would suggest. If that’s the case, maybe she shouldn’t have blindly followed him out in the middle of the woods. She really needs to start thinking these things through.

“You are impossible,” he grumbles, his voice low. He simply looms over her, he’s so close and so tall that she needs to look up for a chance to see his scowling face above her. Her body tenses as she looks at him, fear fluttering in her chest. The sense of danger is tangible now, and it causes her mind to spin, reevaluating all of the bad choices she made to bring herself here.

But something isn’t right.

She really didn’t think he was this tall. Mostly, she’s just seen him sitting, but she thought they were more equally matched where height was concerned. Obviously, she couldn’t have been more wrong because he’s standing over her now, and he’s easily two heads taller than her. Standing at 5’8”, she isn’t a short girl. So, for him to be this much taller than her, he would need to be nearly 7 feet tall. She certainly would have noticed that about him before now, right? The strangeness of this revelation twists in her gut. She notices he’s trembling fiercely, but whether that’s from anger, adrenaline, or exhaustion, she can’t say.

“I’m sure there is someone out there that would love to make friendship bracelets and bake cookies with you,” his voice takes on a saccharine tone, it’s patronizing. The tone is dropped as quickly as it was adopted, “You should go find them, because it’s not going to be me.” He turns her around and ushers her to the tree line, “This has been a lovely chat and all, but I really need you to leave. Right now.” She stumbles to a stop at the edge of the clearing and casts a curious glance over her shoulder. Why does he seem so suddenly alarmed? “Can you stop being so fucking stubborn, and just go?” The trembling in his hands has evolved to a full body tremor. There is desperation in his voice. He wants her to leave. He’s always wanted her to leave, how is this any different?

“Maybe I like being stubborn,” she says slowly, antagonizing. She leans against a tree, in no hurry to leave. She knows it’s another bad decision, but she’s made so many at this point, what’s the harm in one more. Besides, she can’t help but feel a little spiteful towards him right now.

A guttural sound escapes Felix’s throat. He glares down at her, a sheen of sweat beading on his forehead like he’s somehow undergoing a lot of physical effort. She doesn’t know if she should be curious or concerned, but she finds herself plagued with both.

“Fine,” he grits his teeth. “Give me your phone and- actually, just everything you have on you.” He holds out a shaking hand, a dreadful resolve is spread across his face.

“What? I’m not gonna just—”

“Please.” He spits the word out like it’s almost foreign to him, like it’s his last resort. “I’ll give it back to you. But it you want to stay I need—” he sucks in a gasp, his tremors are growing violent now, wracking his body, his muscles twitching.

“Alright! Alright, fine! Here,” She tosses her phone into her backpack and hands the whole thing over to him. He snatches it close to his chest and takes several steps back into the clearing. “Are you alright?” Concern breaks through her frustration, “What’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to stay back there.” It’s all the warning she gets before everything explodes.

The movement is so quick, he becomes a blur. She watches with a mix of awe and horror as he transforms right before her eyes. All of the rumors she’s heard about him flood back to her in an instant. The word werewolf springs to the forefront of her mind. For a split second her mind races trying to remember the phase of the moon. But it’s midday, that shouldn’t matter. – No that’s ridiculous. She knows exactly what’s going on. He really is a Super. One point to the rumor mill- well, half a point.

He remains human, in appearance at least. He doesn’t grow fangs or claws or sprout fur everywhere. It’s his size that changes. In the blink of an eye, he’s stretched up to taller than the surrounding trees. The sudden movement disturbs all of the surrounding birds from their perches. How tall is he? 60 feet? 80? All she knows is that from his perspective she wouldn’t be much more than doll sized. Her jaw goes slack as she looks up at him.

He is a Super after all.

Then he moves. His impossible form moves. The earth shakes in response to him, and it jars her from her thoughts.  He lowers himself down slowly, his eyes trained on her. She feels the oppressive weight of his gaze smothering her, and she refuses to meet his eyes. Her mind is left spinning as she watches him drop her backpack into his shirt pocket for safe keeping. His shirt pocket. His clothes grew in size with him, transmutating from a regular garment into what must be miles of fabric.

Impossible.

He settles back against the rocky bluff that makes up the far edge of the clearing. His pale green eyes scan over her now, comparatively, miniscule form. His brow quirks up as he observes her.

“There,” he says finally, his voice a low, displeased whisper. It feels very intentional, like he knows how much louder he is at this size, and he’s choosing to be quiet. “Happy now?”

“I- You’re. Felix you… you’re…” All her words are lost, she’s trying to rationalize what she’s seeing. She’s seen Supers before, she’s no stranger to the vast myriad of powers they can manifest. But she’s never seen anything like this before. He’s truly massive.

“I know. Big surprise the rumors are true. I’m a freak. A monster. Go ahead and run. I’ll drop your things off at the lost and found for you. Go on. Off you go.” He shifts, dislodging a spray of rocks from the cliff behind him, he brushes them off his shoulder like he’s brushing away dust instead of boulders. When he looks back it’s obvious that he’s surprised she’s still there. “Aren’t you going to run?” All she can do is shake her head in response. “Aren’t you scared?” His eyes narrow, studying her as he leans forward ever so slightly.

“Of you?” She scoffs, “of course not.”  She lifts her chin, crossing her arms confidently over her chest. Or at least, she hopes it appears confident. Maybe at this size, he can’t see her body trembling.

“Wow. You’re a horrible liar,” he regards her, as unamused as ever.

“Yeah?” A challenge sparks through her tone. Instead of making any kind of rational decision, she foolheartedly presses forward. Though she’s yet to bring her eyes to his, though her bones feel as though they’re made of gelatine, she forces one shaky step forward.

Then another.

She feels like she can’t help it, something about him makes her feel particularly vindictive. It bolsters her confidence and tosses her caution to the wind.

In one swift movement Felix leans forward, his hand smashing into the ground next to her, and crunching a fallen log in half beneath his palm. The vibrations are enough to topple her from her feet. His other hand comes to rest next to her other side. His forearms form thick pillars beside her. His fingers are as thick as tree trunks, they dig into the earth, rooting himself there around her.  From her back on the forest floor, she finally meets his eyes. His face fills her sky, his brow is quirked in a nonplussed challenge to her.

He’s calling her bluff.

“It’s not too late to run,” he offers coolly. His eyes flicking to the edge of the trees, then back down to her. It’s more than a suggestion, and for a second, she considers it. But the thought of him watching her pick herself up off the ground and scurry away like a frightened mouse, it’s more than enough to stoke the fire of her own stubbornness.

“Why would I,” she says, finally catching her breath. “This is like, the first time you’ve said more than one thing to me since I’ve met you.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says lifting one of his massive hands. Her breath hitches in her throat as the hand descends, pinning her against the forest floor with a single finger. The digit rests heavily against her chest, and her hands fly up to meet it. She braces against his finger, as if that would actually do anything to stop him if he decided to squish her into the dirt right now. She finds herself instantly mesmerized by how miniscule her hands look pressed against the tip of his finger.

The tip of his finger, she realizes, her insides lurching again.

She’s seen many strange things before, but this is something that her mind is simply unwilling to process.

“Your little heart is beating so fast,” he murmurs in observation, the gentle vibrations of his voice dredging her up from her spiraling thoughts. “You’re obviously terrified. Just do yourself a favor and go,” his finger lifts from her chest, “we can pretend this never happened, alright?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she asserts, propping herself up on an elbow, pulling a leaf from her hair.

“You’re ridiculous,” his face contorts into an incredulous expression above her.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she doubles down, gritting her teeth and shooting a challenging glare to the giant filling her sky.

“Yeah?” His expression sharpens, “You want to play, then? Let’s go. Come ‘ere.” With that, his massive hand swoops in once more.

Her whole body is scooped up, and she’s whisked off the ground as though she weighed nothing. The movement is so fast, she feels as though a part of her has been left behind on the forest floor. She can’t stifle the shriek as it escapes her. One moment she was safe on solid ground, and one blink later, she finds herself dangling from his fingers. She scrambles to find some kind of secure purchase, but there’s nothing, it’s just empty sky around her and a long, long way down.

“Felix!” He has her hoisted up above him, dangling above his head.

“Oh, come on. You just said you weren’t afraid of anything,” His shit-eating grin would typically irritate her, but she’s too busy looking at the ground below, her vision swimming.

“I- It’s- I just—” words escape her, thought escapes her.

“Wow. I haven’t even done anything yet. Just admit you’re scared, and we can be done here.”

“Never,” she manages to spit the word out. Her stubbornness roots inside her like talons. A horrible, mischievous grin spreads across his face.

"Hmm. Careful with how you’re squirming like that. You wouldn’t want to slip,” his tone is teasing.

“Felix, that’s- that’s really not funny.”

“Oh? What’s that? Are you afraid I’ll drop you?”

“No. You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t,” She tears her gaze from the ground to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t know shit,” he says simply. And with that, his fingers release from around her and she plummets towards the ground. She only freefalls for a moment, before his other hand appears under her. She quickly rights herself into a sitting position, held in his palm. It doesn’t feel terribly secure, but it’s better than where she was before. She gasps for air, quickly drawing her knees in close, and placing a hand against her chest, as if trying to control her racing heart.

She can’t catch her breath. She knows she’s panicking. Her heart is hammering so fast, it’s like it’s trying to just break from her ribcage and leave her alone with all of the consequences of her own actions. She sucks in uneven, stuttered breathes, all too aware of the massive scowl hanging over her, the scrutinous eyes taking her in. There is nowhere for her to hide from him. He is everywhere around her. She blinks rapidly, praying the tears in her eyes won’t fall.

She couldn’t possibly embarrass herself any more.

“If that really wasn’t enough for you—” He starts, his hand beginning to shift around her once more.

“No! No, wait! Okay, I’m scared, alright? Please stop!” Her voice breaks pathetically. The motion around her pauses as he blinks down at her for a second. Then, she’s moving again. Much, much too fast for her liking. She bites back another yelp as his palm drops, lowering her back to the ground. She’s tipped from his palm, and before she can even really register what’s happening, Felix is standing in front of her, back to his regular height, looking particularly smug, knowing he's won.

“Fuck, dude,” she breathes shakily, composing herself, and quickly wiping her eyes.

“You’re fine,” He mumbles as he drops her backpack down next to her.

“I think you enjoyed that way too much,” she collects her things, and rises on quivering legs.

“Yeah. Probably,” he shrugs and steps away from her, heading towards the edge of the clearing with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“H-hey! Wait!” She quickly trots after him.

He sighs heavily, “Charlotte. Why are you so insistent on befriending the local resident monster?”

“Easy. I don’t think you’re a monster,” she scrunches her nose up at the word.

“Really?” He stops, and turns to face her, “after all that? You were literally crying two seconds ago.”

She just shrugs, “it could have been worse.”

“You are impossibly stubborn,” he rolls his eyes, and tuns to walk off again.

“Well, so are you! Why are you so insistent on being a total loner?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you! Is that so hard for you to believe?” He says with a huff.

“You don’t even know me!” She shouts back at him.

“And you don’t know me. We should keep it that way!” He raises his voice to match her energy.

“Alright! Fine. Whatever. Just live in your ‘woe is me, the world is out to get me’ delusions then! All I’ve done is try to be nice to you, and you just have the most frustrating attitude! Why did you even come to this school. There are plenty of schools out there for Supers. You picked one that’s like, entirely Mundane. This place is like a ghost town. I’m pretty sure most people that go here have never even met a C-tier Super before, nevermind someone like you!”

He stops so quickly, she almost stumbles right into him, “oh, and what, you’re some kind of expert on Supers?”

“Ooh, sorry,” she lets go of a frustrated laugh, “I can’t answer that, that would involve us learning something about one another!”

They lock eyes. Stuck in a stalemate of stubbornness.

“You’re being so dramatic,” he grumbles.

“Maybe I am!” She knows he’s curious, but she’s not going to give him any more information. She tries to step around him, but he blocks her path.

“Charlie,” his tone is clipped. She realizes with a start that he’s standing a head taller than her. She scowls up at him.

“Oh, sure Felix. Get all big and intimidating! What are you going to do, become gigantic and force me to talk?”

“I- no!” He says frustrated, she gets the impression that he didn’t really intend to grow just then. His emotions must have a pretty strong effect on his abilities. “No,” he takes a breath to calm himself down, “Look. You seem to have some kind of experience with supers. I at least want to know that much about you.”

“Apologize to me then,” she huffs.

“What?” He blinks, taken aback by this.

“You were really mean, and I want you to say that you’re sorry.”

“Oh my god. Fine. Charlotte, I’m sorry, alright. I’m a total jerk, and I’m sorry.” He says, waiting for her to go ahead and tell him what he wants to know. She looks at him for a moment before speaking.

“I think you should answer some of my questions first, and then I will forgive you.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s only fair.”

“Alright, whatever. What do you want, my life story?” He says with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

“It can be the abridged version,” she gives him a self-satisfied grin.

He groans, stomping over to a large rock that’s off the path, taking a seat on it. He gestures beside him, obviously annoyed. She takes a seat next to him.

“I’ve had my ability since like, the third grade. I was an only child, and my parents are Mundane. They didn’t know what to do with me, so they just sent me off to a boarding school for Supers. They had another kid after that and he’s normal, or whatever. I haven’t seen much of any of them since, like, middle school.”

“Oh my gosh? That’s –”

“Oh! My brothers go to Rosehill,” She says, and Felix’s eyes widen. “Would they know you?” she asks curiously.

“I don’t want your pity,” he continues without missing a beat, “Anyway, my ability was really lame the entire time I was there. Like my max height was, I don’t know, like, a generous ten feet? So, they recommended I just go to college with the Mundanes. I went to Lynwell for like one semester, and surprise, surprise, my ability suddenly developed into, well, you saw. So, that got flagged and, well, I…. I was at Rosehill, and my ability was incredibly sporadic. I could never actually get that big on purpose. So, I was ranked really low and everything sucked because a lot of the high-tiers were assholes about it. Then one day, I just sort of, snapped into my powers and figured it out. I shot up the ranks and after that... well...” he hesitates, furrowing his brow, “Long story short, I decided to just transfer here because,” he pauses again before shaking his head, “I don’t know. I’m here now. Life story over, the end.” He finishes quickly, obviously unwilling to tell her any more than that. “Your turn.”

“I… I really hope not. Your brothers are Supers then?” Some of the color has drained from his face, he looks much more tentative now. She makes a mental note of this. She’ll have to ask her brothers about him.

“Yeah. I’ve got four older brothers, and all of them are Supers. We’re from East Springs,” Felix quirks his brow in recognition. Everyone’s heard of East Springs, it’s one of the ‘Big Five,’ cities that are major hubs for Super activity.

“Oh. And you...?” He trails off, leaving her to finish the thought for him.

“Nope,” she answers, “But, I went to Super schools until my sophomore year. After that, it became obvious that I wasn’t going to develop any abilities, so I got transferred to a small Mundane school. Now I’m here.”

“Why here?”

“Well. Mostly the scholarships, but the science program here is actually really top notch.  Oh and, my family thought it would be better for me to hang out with other Mundanes for once… jokes on them, I guess. Anyway. Thank you for humoring me. I forgive you for being a total jerk, I'll try to just stay out of your way in the future.”

“I really am sorry, about… everything," he says, his voice taking on a more genuine tone.

“Don’t worry about it,” she grins, as carefree as ever. “Oh. I won't tell anyone about your abilities, by the way.”

“I don’t care. Just another rumor to add to the pile.”

“Okay, well I care,” She frowns. The rumors are just clinging to the assumption that Felix is a Super. A correct assumption, but still. She can imagine all of the same crazy things being said about her brothers too. It just rubs her the wrong way. “Anyway, we don’t have to be friends, but I’m not here to sabotage your social life. You seem to be doing a perfectly fine job of that on your own,” her mouth pulls into a teasing smirk. Felix rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” He adds after a pause, “I’ll see you around, Charlie.”

She blinks at him for just a second, before nodding and walking down the trail back to the campus on her own.

[bisayawa]

the caretaker's side ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― sickfic, hurt/comfort, fluff, tiniest bit of angst

― reader is fem, regarded as sampaguita (a fragrant flower native to tropical asia), she/her pronouns used

warning: icky sickness stuff, vomiting, coughing, pills, capsules, crying.

note: i don't think this is anything, just recalling what i've experienced when skipping meals (gastritis? i think it's called? i try to explain it somewhat here.) reader & al are in a situationship of some kind. idk i didn't think this through. not proofread.

"good to see you back, alejandro!"

the afternoon was noisy with chatter & song. his cousins were frantic to meet with him once they arrived, shouting praise & honor with each grin they wore. his mother, his father hugged him so tight they might as well have been one. his sisters, his brother ― nearly crying when they saw his scruffy face. his little nephews & nieces ― excited in the way they walked & talked & held his hand all the way through the day.

but there was one person, amidst all the laughter & noise of the day, he found himself thinking of.

"so... mama," he tried to broach, though he knew in his heart his questions wouldn't get past her. his mother is perceptive as she is loving.

"yes?"

"sampaguita still lives down the street, no?"

she smiles, the lines of her face squinching up. it masks her suspicion.

"yes, she does," his mother says. "still the same house, still working in the same clinic. if i recall, she's trying to visit her family for the holidays ― in november maybe."

"...and her father?"

"he's travelling, cariño, but last i heard ― just as he left, she went down with a terrible sickness. she took leave about half a day ago." his mother's voice had taken a curious quality, soft & cheeky.

alejandro's face falls at the sickness of his friend.

"oh," he intones. "is she alright then? did she go to a hospital?"

"oh, no, cariño." her voice is honey, chokingly so ― too sweet to not be a scheme.

"she wanted to take care of herself in her own home. we tried to help but ―" she shrugs. "she refused, felt herself a burden, poor girl."

the sentence did its job. the seed was planted. alejandro would visit his friend come morning.

―

"alejandro? you're back!" is what you say when you open the door, eyes bleary & grey-faced in the wake of the sun.

"yes, that i am, sampaguita,"

the lines of his grin still make you warm in the chest. your friend, as always, was as handsome as could be.

"i'd invite you inside but," your hoarse voice tapers down. you see your buckets & dropcloths by the sink, the sheets of pills & capsules, a gatorade going warm on the floor. "it's a mess in here."

"that's exactly why i'm going inside, sampaga."

"what?"

"i heard you were sick. you need someone to help."

"wha ― no, alejandro, you don't need to ―"

"i've already made up my mind."

"you ― you shouldn't waste your leave on something like this!"

"with you, it's not a waste." he says, no violent rejection ― just the gentle strength of words & care. "please, let me in."

you grumble. your matted hair is wiry, curling along your shoulders. you feel like a mess, sweaty from trying to break your fever, unable to take a bath because of said fever. your clothes were from the day before yesterday, most likely with drops of regurgitated food, smelling of stomach acid.

"sampaga," he meets your eyes. "i won't take no for an answer."

you wilt, shrugging into yourself.

"you won't be disgusted?"

"mi cariño, i work in the special forces. i believe i've seen worse."

you always thought that there were times he's had to use that exact grin for his job ― to reassure families, children of the safety he'd give. you just didn't think you'd be one of the people receiving it.

you welcome him inside, closing the door with a click & locking it in place.

his eyes rove from wall to wall, corner to corner. he sees the buckets, the dropcloths, the pills, the capsules, even the gatorade going warm on the hardwood floor.

he finds your face, and smiles, tight-lipped, sincere. it was meant to comfort & it did exactly that.

"come on," he says. "let's get you to bed."

entering the bedroom brings more mess. there was porridge on your nightstand, half eaten & cold. a bottle of water stood by, three quarters of the way full. your sheets were a mess. the blanket was running down the side of the bed. a pillow was sitting on the floor.

without a word from you, he sets out to fix the bed sheets.

you had half a mind to protest before deciding you wouldn't win that conversation. you choose to carry the bowl of porridge to the kitchen sink, watering it down before going back to bed.

he holds your hand when you settle down, sitting by your legs when your head finds the pillow.

"how'd you get sick?" is what he asks, kneading the cloth where your knees billow the blankets up.

"i skipped a meal."

"well, there you go," he chuckles, and so do you.

you recline to your side, ruffling up the sheets even further.

"i had an early breakfast the other day & by the time 11 o'clock happened, i was already hungry. i couldn't find the time to eat ― i had forgotten because we had a fire safety seminar."

your hair is curling up & around, looking like a crown.

he sees you yawn & his eyes go softer.

"it's interesting though," you say. your hand is now on his.

"what is?"

"this isn't from bacteria, you know? or a virus or any infectious agent. it's just... my body doing its job because i didn't take care of it."

"see? even your body is telling you to take care of yourself. ah, so stubborn, never listening to anyone."

at that, you laugh with him. the corners of your lips pushing your cheek further into the pillow.

"i'll listen from now on, i promise."

he faintly feels your fingertips kneading circles into his knuckles.

"wait, if you skipped a meal, how come the...?" he recalls the buckets & cloths strewn around the house.

"skipping a meal means the acid in the stomach ―" you cough into your elbow, rough, forceful. "the acid in the stomach has no food to digest. it sits there long enough, it eats into the stomach lining."

"so... the stomach,"

"the stomach gets irritated, inflammed. some people bleed, too. the irritation means you can't keep the food down, or at least, a lot of it." you clear your throat. "antacid helps. painkillers, too."

he cards his fingers through your hair & kisses your brow. he holds your cheek in his hand. it's warm against his palm.

"you stay here, okay?" he asks. "i'll clean up, and then i'll make you some soup."

"alejandro ―"

"whatever you say won't stop me." his grin is smug but genuine. he wants to take care of you, you realize belatedly.

"thank you. you don't have to do this."

he chuckles. "i'd do it ten times over if i have to. you're never getting rid of me, sampaguita."

―

the first bout of emesis he witnesses happens late at night.

he had taken to using the guest room after insisting you needed to be monitored even in sleep. you lost that conversation fighting, he admits, but still, you lost.

the room was close to the bathroom, where he heard your footfalls echo into the dead of night.

he opens the door & finds a sliver of light carving the hallway in half.

he sees you, then, on the floor, with your hair in your hands. the force of your stomach clenching makes you jump from your seat. it looks painful, especially with the way you're hunched over.

he sits with you, taking your hair & rubbing circles into your back. the corrosive smell did not ward him away. the line of spittle & half-digested food did not scare him.

he hears you cough, a detonation of fireworks in the muscles of your throat. it catches in your esophagus. you're tearing up, and when you spit it out, it comes streaked with blood.

it's there that alejandro flinches. seeing that bright red, seeing it come from you, you who was in pain, who was tired, who had your sleep interrupted by bouts of nausea.

he couldn't help it. he hugged you tighter.

―

he found a cloth somewhere in your room. he didn't remember.

all he recalled was drying the tears that ran down your face, wiping the corners of your lips.

"i can do it myself, alejandro," your voice was rough, like stone grating on iron. it sounded like the color red, raw & bleeding. agony in a breath.

alejandro couldn't reply. what would he say? that he couldn't do anything else but bring you medicine & food? that the sickness in your body can only be fought by you? that if he could fight your hurts rather than nurse them, he would?

illness was an invisible enemy. no strategy, no surprise. just waiting & watching for results until it all becomes better again.

he didn't know illness could hurt from the caretaker's side, too.

"you coughed until you drew blood,"

"so? it's not the first time."

your words startle him. how could you say that so cavaleirly? so carelessly?

"that's not... cariño, that's not the p―"

"it's not that serious ―"

"to me, it is, cariño! listen!"

he raised his voice. he begged the earth would swallow him whole.

"i didn't mean to shout... at you. it's ― you're..."

his irises meet yours & he feels himself grow small.

you were crying. big fat droplets were running down your cheeks, reaching the bunched up sheets inside your clenched hands. you swallow, come back to your senses.

the water registers & you're frantic to wipe away every last tear.

"no..." your voice was breaking like glass. "alejandro, just get out, please, this isn't your fault. i'm sorry. i'm not crying because of you."

the words are blurred together, coiling & writhing in a symphony of your hoarse, broken tenor.

alejandro feels a lump in his throat. he's caused you more pain, and you were apologizing. he doesn't want to cry, too. no, he shouldn't.

his hands have gone limp on the blankets, unsure, hesitant.

"samp ― may i hold you, please?" there's a crack when he says please.

you eyes are filling with tears again. they run along their course & meet the corners of your lips.

"yes..." your voice ― a stained glass window stoned to splinters. "please."

and so he does, planting his hands on your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. your hair tickles the underside of his chin, catching on the scruff.

there's a low groan wheedling out your esophagus, bringing with it an uneven breath.

then another.

and another.

you're hiccupping. your whole chest is trembling under him. your lungs under his fingertips stretch with each inhale, trying to accommodate air that shouldn't be there.

"deep breaths, cariño, deep breaths."

he has to remind himself not to hold you too tight, else you get smothered. with no other avenue to reassure you, he does what he can. he rubs your back & kisses your forehead.

"i'm sorry." he says into your temple.

"you ―" two erratic inhales. "you shouldn't be sorry."

the pitch of your voice rises & falls. the muscles in your throat spasm in tune with the inhales.

"no, i am. i'm sorry that i ―"

"stop apologizing, please." you bury yourself further into him, weave your arms around his torso. "stop it, stop it, please."

it's barely a whisper but he follows, blindly, as if your words were gospel.

―

the day goes on after dawn.

your head was splitting after your sobbing session. you take a paracetamol sooner than the prescribed four hours.

alejandro was busy cooking you something. soup, you guessed, or maybe more porridge. you couldn't tell from the smell. both your nostrils were blocked.

you'd been restrained to sitting or lying down on the bed as per alejandro's reprimands. he had listed reason after reason to not let you walk out nor even stand up to do anything in your room.

"you've just vomited all your food." he had said. "your stomach is empty. your source of energy is gone. get some rest, sampaguita. drink something."

you took to staring at the sunrise in the far corner of the room. the window was ajar, not even open all the way. you see the rays of light pass behind the curtain, pointing up to the walls & the ceiling.

there's wind somewhere outside, making the drapes fly up. bird were singing, faintly.

the door opens & alejandro brings in a tray full of food, water, medicine & a small basin, presumably for future instances of nausea.

despite the aches of your head, throat, chest & nose, you grin whe he sets it down, beckoning him closer to your seat at the bed.

"thank you," you're pensive for a while. then you take his hand & you give it a small peck.

"you don't need to thank me every time i do something, sampaga. it's alright."

"& are you gonna stop me?"

there it is, a face so joyous & radiant that it lights up like a full moon. the squinch of your nose, the arch of your eyelids, a golden dream of a person. alejandro could kiss you. he almost did.

but he did something better. he gave you the bowl of hot soup & a bottle of warm water. he helped you take the medicine when you finished your meal & he tucked you in when you felt drowsy.

he'll take care of you, he promises.

[persephonewritessometimes]

Moon Song / part six: punisher

Summary: A peek into Y/N's and Hotch's relationship three years later.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 2445

Warnings: proposal, pregnancy, wedding, happy and in love!hotch&reader, brief mention of sex

Playlist: Link

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! I have a little surprise that will be going up sometime soon (bonus chapter lmao because I can't get enough of moon song!hotch) Thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs, I see them all and I'm so grateful. <3

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Three years. Three years of therapy. Three years of working cases together. Three years of Hotch trying not to burst a blood vessel when officers attempted to ask me out, and I politely shut them down. Three years of co-parenting. And three years of learning how to communicate and love each other in a healthy way. It wasn’t easy, not one part of it, but it was worth it. Because we’re okay. Better than okay, actually. We made it out. Together. With minor casualties of course, but we fucking made it.

         Haley married Todd two years ago, and they welcomed a little girl named Emma about a year ago. Haley and I have become friends, she helped me learn what it’s like to be a mom and I go to her when I have questions about Jack and how to handle certain situations. She lets me babysit Emma too, and I’m obsessed with that little girl. It makes me wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t had a miscarriage.

         I’m getting ready to go out for dinner, and since JJ had hinted that I might want to look nice I slipped into a pretty sky-blue dress. Aaron is downstairs putting away the dishes, I can tell that because it’s louder than all get out. He tries to be gentle, but I think he just hates putting the dishes away, so he rushes to get them done as fast as possible. Since he’s preoccupied, I dig around in the under-the-sink cabinet, reaching for a box in the back. I rip open the pregnancy test, pee in a cup, and wait. I’d been feeling off lately, my period was a few days late, and I just wanted to make sure. A couple of minutes pass and I turn the test over.

         “AaRON?” My voice cracks as I shout his name.

         “Coming!” He shouts back and I hear him jog up the stairs. He pushes the door open and sees my hands shaking. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” I can hear the panic in his voice.

         “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, picking up the positive test on the counter and showing him. I watch him closely, as several emotions flash over his face and he’s trying to hold back a grin, always waiting for my reaction.

         “And how do you want me to feel about that? Whatever you want to do, I’m on board with you one hundred percent.”

         “I want this baby so fucking bad,” I say, starting to cry. “After the first one, I felt so lost. I thought I would never get pregnant again.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.

         “I was going to wait to do this until we got to dinner, but I think the universe is telling me to do it now.” I watch as he gets down on one knee, fishing a small box out of his pocket. I start to cry even harder.

         “Oh my god, you are not – what – I – “

         “Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor of my life? Will you marry me?”

         “Yes! Oh my god yes, of course!” He slides the ring on my finger, gets up, and kisses me deeply, not seeming to mind that I can’t stop crying and my nose is running. We break apart and he rests his forehead on mine, a hand on my stomach.

         “Whatever happens, no matter what, I will be here for you, always. I’m never leaving. You are my heart; you are my home. I love you.”

         “I love you too,” I whisper thickly. He kisses my forehead, then bends down and kisses my abdomen. I laugh and the smile he shoots me is so bright I almost feel like I could fall over from the force of it.

         “Okay, so you have two options. The dinner we originally planned where there may be some familiar faces.” He winks at me, and I laugh again. “Or, we can call it a night, have some steamy sex, and watch a movie?”

         “Wow, that’s a hard choice.” I pause, then say, “Let’s go see our friends.” I take a step back to wipe my tears and blow my nose. “But I’m still expecting steamy sex later, regardless.” He laughs loudly and promises that he’ll live up to my request. I smooth my dress down as he dials someone on his phone.

         “JJ, change of plans. I may have already proposed so no need to be incognito.” He says, smiling at me.

         “Dammit!” We hear Reid shout in the background.

         “Oh, thank god, Reid’s insistence on a fake mustache has made him insufferable,” JJ says, chuckling.

         “We’re leaving in a few, see you then.” He says, hanging up the phone. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking me over.

         “Yeah, just a lot of big things at once,” I say with a soft smile.

         “Need a moment alone? I can get the car ready.”

         “If you wouldn’t mind,” I say.

         “Of course, pretty girl. I’ll be downstairs. I love you!” He retreats, softly closing the door behind him. I look at myself in the mirror, I look down at my stomach, there’s no visible difference, but I feel different.

         “What if I told you I feel like I know you, but we’ve never met?” I whisper down to my belly, smoothing my hands over it. I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, happy tears, and I put my shoes on before joining Aaron in the garage.

We drive to my favorite Italian place around the corner. “You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He says, squeezing my knee.

“Oh my god, you are so sappy!” I say, resting my hand over his.

“I can’t help it; you make me weak in the knees.” We pull up at the restaurant, and he parks the car. We walk inside to the team yelling “CONGRATULATIONS!” I laugh and show off my ring, Aaron’s hand resting on the small of my back.

“Can we please eat for the love of god? You guys took forever to get here.” Morgan groans.

“Watch how you talk about my fiancé, Morgan,” Hotch says, glaring at him. Morgan holds his hands up in mock defeat and we all take a seat at the table that had been prepared for us. Hotch is seated to my right, and JJ is to my left. I lean over to say something in JJ’s ear while the rest of the team talks loudly.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, loud enough so she can hear me but no one else can. Her head whips around so fast, eyes wide. I laugh and nod, and she grabs my hand.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” She says in my ear. I beam at her.

“Who knew that it would turn out this way three years ago?” I say, and she gives me a sly smile but says nothing. I wonder what she has up her sleeve.

-7 months later-

         The wedding is beautiful – everything I wanted it to be and more. It’s a pretty small wedding, we only wanted our closest friends and family there. My sister and her husband came, as well as my parents even though they were traveling abroad at the time. Haley and Todd came, and they kept an eye on Jack during the ceremony. I’m in love with the dress I picked out – it’s an off-white color and is loose in the belly – something I knew I would need. I’m waiting for my cue to walk down the aisle, and I smooth my hands over my bump, resting my hands underneath it.

         “You’re glowing,” JJ says. I asked her to be my Matron of Honor, needing someone with a level head to keep me from freaking out. “You have your vows?” I nod, pulling a piece of paper out from the bust area of my dress. She takes it from me, vowing to keep it safe until I need it. Reid walks in and says,

         “Beautiful as ever, Y/N. JJ they’re ready for us to walk down the aisle.” Spencer winks at me, and I smile, mouth suddenly dry. This is really happening. They walk down the aisle, and then my dad is there, offering me his arm and a smile.

         “Breathe. It’s going to be fine; I promise.” He whispers to me, right before we round the corner and walk down the aisle. I take a deep breath and look up, locking eyes with Aaron and he’s crying. I start silently crying, emotional both from the day and the pregnancy hormones coursing through my body. My dad shakes his hand and hands me over. Aaron kisses my forehead, then my belly, and takes my hand. When we get to the vows, Aaron goes first.

         “My beautiful, Y/N. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see this day. I am not the same person I was three and a half years ago. You have changed me irrevocably and for the better. I close my eyes every night and I dream that I can hold you.” He winks at me, a callback to the letter he sent me, and I laugh. “I never thought that I would get to hold you forever. I promise to always love you, to always put you first, and to always take a bullet for you.” Another wink. “I didn’t think I would get another chance with you, but time and time again, you have surprised me and taught me how to love myself. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I love you.” He wipes my tears, and JJ hands me my vows. My shaking hands unfold the paper, and now it’s my turn.

         “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say in my vows, as you already know how I feel about you. Then I was afraid I would say too much, and then I wouldn’t know where to start, wouldn’t know when to stop. Everyone knows you’re the way to my heart. I hope that when people look at me, they see the love I have for you, the love I have for our family, and the love I have because of you. I loved you from the first moment we met, and I have loved you every moment since. I promise to never stop loving you, even when you insist on making dinner and burn something, even when you put the dishes away too fast and it sounds like a bull in a china shop, and even when you take a bullet for me. I love you so much that I didn’t even know how to put everything in words.” I fold my paper back up and look up at him, wiping his tears, and he kisses the back of my hand when he’s done. Rossi, who got ordained just for this moment, pronounces us husband and wife, and Aaron’s lips are on mine before Rossi can even finish his sentence. Everyone hollers as Hotch kisses me like we have no audience and when he finally pulls away, I'm breathless.

         The reception starts after we take pictures, and everyone cheers when we walk in. We share our first dance, then take a seat at our private table because I’m starving and could probably eat the whole buffet table at this point. Aaron gets us both a plate, my belly weighing heavy from being on my feet for a while, and I subtly slip my feet out of the flats I was wearing.

         “Eat slowly,” Aaron says, raising his eyebrows at me when he sets my plate down in front of me. I glare at him, but oblige him, nonetheless. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I watch the room as we eat, everyone is laughing and having fun, and I’m smiling watching them.

         “I can feel you staring at me, you know,” I say after a few minutes, turning to face Aaron.

         “What, can I not admire my beautiful wife?” I blush, suddenly shy. He leans in to kiss me and I go,

         “Oh my god you can’t kiss me, you’re married!” He pulls away and hisses,

         “Y/N that is not funny! I married to you now, dumbass.”

         “Yeah, I know, but it was funny to me,” I say grinning.

         “You’re evil.”

         “Oh, definitely,” I say, leaning in and kissing him.

         JJ gets up and taps a knife on her cup to get everyone’s attention.

         “Hello everyone, thank you for coming. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m JJ, one of Y/N’s and Hotch’s friends, and I just wanted to give a short speech. When you work with profilers all the time, you start to pick up on things. When Y/N first joined our team, we welcomed her with open arms, and she fit right in. Two weeks into Y/N being at the BAU, our dear friend Spencer Reid, made a one-off comment about Hotch’s body language whenever Y/N is in the room. Hotch, for being section chief, we expected you to be able to keep a secret a lot better.” He laughs, and she continues. “When we in turn looked at Y/N’s body language, the attraction between them was obvious. At that moment, we placed bets on if they would last or not and seeing as we’re at their wedding, I’m pleased to announce I won that bet. Not even our resident genius was certain that Y/N and Hotch would make it out together. I may not be a betting woman, but I’ll always bet on you, Y/N.” She winks at me, and I laugh. “Needless to say, I bought you guys a really nice gift with the money I won, so, you’re welcome!” Aaron and I both laugh at that. “All that being said, I’m thrilled that you two have each other. Everyone who looks at you sees the love you two share, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. Even if it’s hard to work with two people who are constantly swooning over each other. I love you guys.” She nods, and I get up and hug her.

         “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear, “For everything. We wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t stuck by my side and supported me.” She just squeezes me tight.

         We dance the night away before my eyes start to shut for more than a split second. Aaron calls it a night, and everyone sends us off. He helps me into the car before getting into the driver’s seat.

         “Well, you’re stuck with me forever now, Mr. Hotchner.”

         “And I couldn’t be happier, Mrs. Hotchner.”

---

bonus chapter!

---

TAG LIST (want to be added? click here!): @helmihotchner @hausofwhores @stxlemate @heidss @justjoyceme @bxtchopolis @art-and-thoughts @morgthemagpie @rousethemouse @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-aaron-hotchner @sebastiansstanswhore

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: Shuntarō Chishiya, fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff

• Warnings: reader is hurt, mentions of blood

Trust me

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

„Fuck fuck fuck“, you hiss as you drag yourself through the halls of the beach, leaving a small trail of blood behind you. Towards the end of the game you just come from you stepped in a trap. Luckily you did manage to release yourself on your own, but still you need to clean the wound as soon as possible, otherwise it will end ugly.

When you arrive your door, you feel like you’re already walking for hours and the pain is increasing with every breath you take. Just as you pull out your keys for your room a familiar voice suddenly sounds right beside you. „Need help?“

You wince, almost dropping your key. „Chishiya“, you cuss. „You need to stop sneaking around. I might get a heart attack one day!“

„Before that happens you might die from a septic shock“, he replies and points to your leg, voice monotonous. „You got anything you could clean that with?“

You unlock your door and shrug with your shoulders. „Water and soap.“ A sigh leaves the mans lips. „You will get yourself killed. Wait here.“ That said he turns around and walks off.

You do as told. Complaining needs energy and you have no idea where the fuck you could take that energy from now.

A minute later Chishiya is back with disinfectant and bandages. „Come on“, he commands and you follow him into your room. He closes the door behind you and points to your bed, obviously wanting you to sit down. Slowly you sink down on your bed, eyes not leaving the blonde man that now kneels before you.

„This will burn“, he warns and without giving you time to prepare he pours the disinfectant on your leg. You hiss and clench your fists as hard as you can. Then he uses the disinfectant on his hands, opens up a small see through package and takes the bandage into his hand. With skillful hands he wraps the white fabric over your wound, then another one.

„I don’t have any gauze bandages but this will do it too“, he speaks after he finished wrapping up your leg. „Thank you“, you whisper. Chishiya stands up, just to sit down again on the bed right beside you. „Does anything else hurts?“ You shake your head no, then you feel the back of his hands laying on your forehead and your cheek. „You have a flashlight? I want to make sure your not having a concussion.“

Without waiting for an answer he stands up and scans your room. „I’m fine“ Your tries to convince him have no use. It almost seems like he’s worried or something like that. It makes a smile creep on your face. The imagination of someone caring for you was a nice change in your day.

„Chishiya, please sit down. You’re driving me crazy!“ He stops for a second, then he turns around and walks back to you. „Sorry. Force of habit“, he sighs as sinks down next to you again.

„Force of habit? You’re a doctor or something?“ You want to tease him a bit, but when he actually answers with a yes you are too stunned to speak.

„Back in the real world I was in fact a doctor. At least almost. An intern in the last year“, he continues. You tilt your head slightly and suddenly you think about the thing Arisu told you about his friend and how he desperately searched for a doctor. „Why didn’t you help Arisus friend?“, you ask, actually interested. He helped you without batting an eyelash.

But Chishiya only shrugs. „I think because I didn’t care about that guy. He wouldn’t have been any use for me anyways.“

Even though you already know Chishiya well enough that statements like this don’t shock you anymore, you still are surprised. He kind of admitted that he cares about you. Now it isn’t a speculation of your mind and desires anymore, it’s an actual fact. You can not help but to smile. It was a teasing and knowing smile but at the same time an honored and happy smile.

„So you think I am useful? For what?“ Mocking people is in your nature and now is one of the moments where you notice that you just can’t help it. It’s way too much fun. Despite the heat on his cheeks, Chishiya doesn’t let his guard down and keeps acting cool. He turns his head to you again and you clearly feel the tension between you two. „I don’t know“, he breathes. „I just have the feeling you will be.“ His face was only a few inches away from yours and his eyes seem to study your whole face. „Therefore you can’t just die. It’s giving and taking. I give you my hand and you take it.“

A giggle left your throat. „Why should I trust you?“, you continue your teasing. „Thats on you“, he replies. „But it might be positive for both of us if you did.“

If your smile could get any wider, it would, but your face muscles are already at their limit. „So you want me to trust you?“, you whisper.

„Yeah“, Chishiya whispers back, his eyes now looking into yours, instead of scanning your face.

Everything in you screams. Everything in you wants to press your lips onto his, but still you hesitate. What if he doesn’t want it? You two just gotten closer and the last thing you want is to ruin it. But being so close to him is so seductive. The feeling of his breath, his skin on yours, those dark eyes burning into your own. Chishiya is beyond handsome; he’s beautiful.

„May I?“ His voice calls you out of your dreaming back into reality and as you notice that his eyes flicker down to your lips you can’t hold yourself anymore and crash your lips on his.

Slowly your lips move against each others and you feel yourself falling back in a trance, drunk from his kisses.

„Guess now I have to trust you“ you whisper against his lips, not waiting for an answer before you start to kiss him again.

[dartlekey]

Let me in your ocean, swim

Written for @strangerthingsocweek | mature | 1517 words | cw implied parental abuse, internalized homophobia, cursing, brief sexual content

A/N: Originally I was only gonna post on introduction day, but the reception has been so good I decided to drop another piece of Kicks' story, and I might even end up putting the entire thing up on ao3 once it's complete (I mean, at this point I'm almost at a total of 10k words already, so might as well...?)

Feel free to send me an ask if you wanna know more about Kicks and their place in the Stranger Things Universe!

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The thing is, Kicks looks like an enigma from the outside, but she's not really. Meeting with her so regularly, once a week for movie night with Robin and twice more for swim practice, gives Steve ample opportunity to figure out what makes her tick. It's in the small things - how she loves sharing food but will never be the first person to admit they're hungry, how she's loose with her wallet but careful with her compliments. How she's startlingly attentive about habits and things left unsaid, but will sometimes space out in the middle of a conversation, and get really embarrassed if Steve points it out. (Naturally, he does so at every given opportunity.)

It's in the bigger things too - how she never minds answering questions about her siblings, an older sister and a younger brother, but clams up if he or Robin ask about her parents. How pressing will get an answer, but a clipped, almost aggressive one - but a careful prompt or an offer of an own uncomfortable story will get her to open up about what Steve quickly realizes, between ambivalent wording and careful implications, is a story of a broken home, and her running away from it. 

There are things, too, that change over time. At first, she always startles at casual touches but frowns when he and Robin consequently pull back, like she enjoys being touched but isn't used to it, and doesn't know how to ask. Steve and Robin never actually have a discussion about it, but they don't need to - one movie night Robin just looks at Steve, and Steve looks at Robin, and when they settle on the couch it's not in the usual Robin - Steve - Kicks order. Instead, it's the two of them on each side of Kicks, and Steve tossing his legs over her lap, and Robin putting her head on Kicks’ shoulder, and Kicks freezes but then sinks into the sofa with an overwhelmed little snuffle, and that's that. 

Steve knows Robin is just as glad for it as Kicks is. She's told him how she never was comfortable sharing the easy hugs and elaborate grooming rituals of the other girls, how it made her feel too predatory and gross to consider anything but shying away until the girls stopped initiating, leaving her even more isolated. How casual touches with male friends weren't even an option, too easily misconstrued as intentions she never could force herself to have. Steve's the first person she's let close like that since kindergarten, and he takes that very seriously, honors it with a mixture of the soft hugs and head scritches he'd share with dates, and the rough-housing and shoulder claps regularly exchanged with his teammates. 

Robin and Kicks end up sharing just the girl touches, both clumsy with lack of practice in a way that makes Steve's heart squeeze. He himself tries to stick just to the boys’ touches with Kicks in return - it seems fitting, with him and Robin two halves of the same whole, but there's also the fact that those close, soft touches would tempt him, in a way that they wouldn't with Robin. 

Steve isn't blind, is the thing, and at least a little bit self-aware, thank you very much. He knows his eyes linger on Kicks when they swim together. She wears a sports bra and board shorts to the pool, and he's always been more of a tits than an ass man but she has the perfect goddamn handful of both, startlingly there under the wet, clinging fabric, where her usual clothes completely conceal her body's shape. 

Or maybe not conceal, more… re-emphasize. She's naturally flat, for a - for - well, she's got a straight waist and a toned stomach, narrow hips and strong arms and legs. She tells him she used to dance ballet, which makes sense because so did Nancy, who has a similar build - but Nancy would shave from head to toe when Steve dated her, most likely still does, and while Kicks isn't exactly hairy it's clear that she doesn't shave anything, and she wears her body more like a gay man than a straight woman, and it's - 

Well. It's scary. Steve feels like he's attracted to all the wrong things about her, or the right things but in the wrong way. To both things he knows he likes, and things he didn't know he did, and really he's not supposed to be attracted to her at all because she's his friend and he is done fucking up his life because he keeps fumbling his relationships like he's fourteen. He doesn't even know if she likes men - okay, so he thinks she might, because he’s noticed her staring too, at his jaw and his thighs and his chest, but maybe that's just envy? Because they both keep catching each other watching, but he can't make the first move and she doesn't, so it's probably all in his head anyway - 

It's just a bad idea all around. He's never been good with hypotheticals anyway, so he keeps it as platonic as he can and fuels his pent-up energy in his actual dating life, which is - well, honestly, it's so fantastic he doesn't even have reason to complain, not really. He never meets The One, but he enjoys the dating just for itself - he's always loved meeting new people, enjoys even that fumbling excitement of the talking stage, of learning the shape of someone's mouth. 

And of their other bits, of course. Sex is something that's gotten better with age and experience, and he earns himself a bit of a reputation for a skilled tongue and stamina enough to provide multiple orgasms. It gets to a point where it's unusual for him not to end a Friday night buried in some girl’s twitching cunt, which doesn't just feel fantastic physically but is also great for his ego. 

Now if only his brain wouldn't keep snagging on stupid shit. He doesn't need to think about how Kicks has taken to making sexual innuendos at him and teasingly patting his head, he doesn't need to think about how Eddie fucking Munson is buttering up to his entire social circle, he doesn't need to think about the cold, empty space in his bed when he wakes up from another monster-filled nightmare, he doesn't need - 

He doesn't need to let all his emotions get mixed up, to let those little things eat at him until the frustration bubbles over and makes him do something insane like, say, flirt so blatantly with Munson that even Dustin takes notice. He does so anyway, which solves exactly nothing, and leaves him with the additional weight of now knowing that he's also into boys. 

Into men? Shit, should he be calling the girls he dates women? 

God, this is all so fucking stupid. 

It's not like he even does anything about it - well, nothing significant. He keeps flirting with Munson, who is startlingly and infuriatingly charming, but he only does that after Hellfire, when they're forced to interact by virtue of Steve picking up the kids to ferry home, and doesn't waste any more thought on him. 

… Except on those three or so dates with Annie Brown, where he always takes her from behind because her dark, curly hair is similar enough to forgive the lack of tattoos, and when that doesn't work out, he fucks his way through three busty blonde chicks whose names he can't even remember in an effort to pretend he doesn't have a type. 

(And then there's that one catastrophic date with Carrie Mistrel, who practically begs him for anal because she enjoys it so much. Which turns out not to be an exaggeration because she actually comes from him fingering her in preparation; that part is not the catastrophe, to be fair. That honor is reserved for the part where he's two pumps inside her and suddenly it occurs to him that this is how two men do it, and suddenly he's imagining Munson spearing him open from behind and immediately cums his brains out - ) 

His life isn't only about dating, anyway. He works fun shifts with Robin and boring ones without her, he ferries the kids around and does brunch with the Hendersons on Sundays. He keeps up swim training with Kicks, compliments her on her diligence and her fast progress; she's a strong enough swimmer at this point that he can teach her Marco Polo, and they spend an entire session just goofing off, playing the game with increasingly ridiculous and profane callbacks. At some point he laughs so hard he gets water up his nose, which makes her laugh so hard she has to get out of the water so she doesn't sink, and as she sits on the edge of the pool kicking water at him with a mean cackle he knows she picked up from Munson, he realizes he cannot date her, because if he has to swap this for meaningless oneliners and pretentious movie dates and 2.8 nights of sex before an awkward, “You're just not what I'm looking for, sorry,” he might as well call up the Russians and ask them to finish the job.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[loosingmoreletters]

Tags/Warnings: Past Mutual Non-Con, underage prostitution, Fem!Meng Yao, Xiyao

Kidnapping whump anon, this is for you. Out of curiosity, could you tell me why you prompted me this? I’ve never written xiyao, mostly because I don’t care for this ship tbh, so I’d love to know what made you think of me for this. Anyway, here you go!

The awful, horrible truth is this: Meng Yao thinks Lan Xichen might be more broken hearted about their forced union than her. It is a consequence of their lives and all the torment Lan Xichen was never forced to endure. He is a sweet boy and has given Men Yao little inclination to believe all the world’s fortune wasn’t fed to him by a silver spoon.

He is kind to her when they live together, insists she takes the pitiful attempts of a bed as he sleeps on the ground, injured. He asks to be shown how to launder and to cook and while most of his attempts only make Meng Yao’s job more difficult, it’s endearing that he asks.

His kind smiles, his worries for her position in life – unmarried, without any family to care for her – are that of a sheltered boy. She thought he’d turn out like all the other sheltered boys that are ushered into brothels by their peers, sweet and shy until they learn that the right amount of coin gains them all the might they want, the closest they come to the taste of the Emperor’s power. But he remains sweet even when they are discovered by the Wen soldiers, defends her honor when the Wen jeer, when their eyes darken and they get the look of men who learned to use their power.

Lan Xichen is kind, defending a honor Meng Yao has lost a while ago.

Her mother sent her away afterward. Removed from the brothel, no amount of coin could sway the madam to sell Meng Yao one more time, and Meng Yao didn’t have to watch her mother die.

She was young enough then, is young still, that Meng Shi had believed Jin Guangshan might believe any lie told to him.

Lan Xichen is kind and sweet and utterly naïve. He begs for forgiveness when Meng Yao takes the lead in their performance, hides his face so the Wen won’t see him crying, acts more like a tarnished maiden than Meng Yao. She knows how to fake it, growing up in a brothel means watching the same pretty young woman lose her virginity at least five times before it grows unbelievable.

It’s just sex, the most common power-play since the birth of the world, and Meng Yao’s never been the kind of girl who dreams of being swept off her feet by a gentleman, who loves her kind and true enough to resist until the wedding night.

Lan Xichen, she considers, might have been. But the Wen robbed him of that chance and Meng Yao regrets that. It makes it easier to sink her knife in the neck of the captain when they are done.

The Wen would’ve done worse once they got bored. Like this, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen could keep this a secret—

���I’ll marry you,” Lan Xichen says in the dead of night. He has his ribbon wrapped around his wrist and keeps wrapping and unwrapping it, likely to keep his hands from shaking. Shuoyue is wrapped in bandages at Meng Yao’s back. She cannot wield it longer than a second, but he cannot wield it at all after being raped at its sword point. His own weapon used against him like that – it must feel like betrayal.

“You don’t have to,” says Meng Yao, surprising herself. She should be demanding he marry her, play up the robbed virginity, ensure that she will be safe and sound after the war and—ah. Is this her own guilt?

“How can you say that?” Lan Xichen very nearly cries. “After what I did—I have to do right by you.”

“You did, you killed the soldiers.” Meng Yao lacks the words, a situation that comes to her so seldom, she startles. “Lan Xichen, this was done to us, you did nothing to me.” Not the truth, not entirely, but it is the best she can tell him. “Besides, what will your uncle say to you bringing the daughter of a prostitute to be your wife, the spouse of the Sect Leader? He will not agree.”

“He will,” Lan Xichen insists. “If he knows—”

“And do you want to tell him what was done to us? Lan Xichen, it is best if we stay quiet. Besides…”

Menh Yao looks like her mother, she knows she does. Everyone commented on it, even Jin Guangshan, who cast her aside as a hysteric for claiming to be blood.

“What do I know about being anyone’s wife? And my father, he will insist on reparations. Jin Guangshan will rob the Cloud Recesses in the middle of a war he refuses to engage in.”

He’d care about Meng Yao then. How strange to thing she wanted his acceptance now, the security that would come with the station. Surely, surely, no one would attempt to take from a sect leader’s daughter as they would from a whore’s.

But Jin Guangshan is just like every other man, all he does is take.

“Would it be so bad to marry me?” Lan Xichen finally asks. “We wouldn’t even have to—you could live separated from me. You wouldn’t need to share a home with me.”

Lan Xichen is kind and sweet and so very dear. He doesn’t love her, doesn’t think beyond the brutality that rests between them and the amends he thinks he owes. There are implications he isn’t considering, acknowledgments to be made and Meng Yao—

She tried to protest, didn’t she? She could do worse than Lan Xichen, who will look at her with guilt for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agrees. “If we make it to the Cloud Recesses, I’ll marry you.”

Lan Xichen smiles, soft and small, and Meng Yao resigns herself to becoming his sweet and kind wife.

-

This probably only hits one of the beats you expected anon but look, I just think that a fem!Meng Yao would outwardly handle this so much better than Lan Xichen, even when repressing a lot. She’s grown up with the concept of rape being pretty much a given standard expectation, so this wasn’t the worst her imagination could do. Lan Xichen, meanwhile, at best, never thought of himself in this situation beyond some vague fear/context of becoming his father.

[zipegs]

alana & chilton  // 905 words, g, past hannibloom //  ao3 written for day 5 of fad’s au challenge: hanahaki

The first flower petal Alana coughs up is a bright yellow tansy. She fishes it out of her mouth with trembling fingers and stares at its wet, fragile form. Hostility, she thinks dumbly. A declaration of war.

A small, desperate part of her wonders whether Hannibal, wherever he is, might be suffering the same. Her affliction has taken root because the man she loved was never anything more than a facade.

But his... If he fell ill, Alana wonders, what flowers would bloom first in his fertile lungs? Lavender, perhaps. Or yellow carnation.

She crushes the tansy in her fist and holds her hand out over the edge of her hospital bed.

Hannibal doesn't love you, she tells herself. No version of him ever did.

Maybe one day, it will start to sink in.

She opens her palm and lets the petal fall.

---

It's not long before the medical staff notices. Alana expected as much, but she hates how they've begun to look at her, with the same pity and gentleness one would show an injured stray.

She starts coughing one morning while a nurse is taking her vitals and can't seem to stop, props herself up on one elbow despite the pain that blossoms in her hips and chokes on a purple sliver of bittersweet.

The nurse tuts when she sees it catch on Alana's lip and lifts it carefully away, turns it over in front of her as though by doing so it might take on some different form.

"My aunt dealt with these," the nurse says, shaking her head. "Truth." She huffs out a humorless laugh. "She couldn't understand why she kept getting them until she found her husband's credit card receipts."

If only it were as simple as adultery, Alana thinks darkly. The nurse pats her shoulder consolingly, and Alana forces a tight-lipped smile. She wonders what truth the bittersweet is meant to call to mind. There are so many lies to untangle that it's nearly impossible to start.

Alana closes her eyes and clears her scratchy throat. She's been dreaming about her residency again, a world where all she knew of Hannibal was that he was beautiful and brilliant and kind. She'd go back there, if she could. Even if just for a single moment.

Alana has treated victims of relationship trauma before, distraught young lovers who sob on her small purple couch. They say they can't understand how this happened, that this person who hurts them is a stranger wearing their partner's skin.

You think it's a nightmare, she tells them sometimes, but this was always what was hidden beneath their facade. You've woken up—you've emerged from that perfect dream. I know that it's hard. But there is no going back. It's gone.

Alana stares at the empty white ceiling and wonders if every therapist has trouble reconciling their own advice.

---

Chilton lets himself into Alana's room just as she's hacking up the petals of two delicate pink crabapple blossoms, and he doesn't do her the graciousness of letting it go.

He lifts his bouquet in greeting, and the butcher paper and cellophane crinkle with laughter.

"I brought you flowers," Chilton drawls, the good side of his face tugging up in an amused smile, "but it seems I shouldn't have bothered. You've already got your own."

Alana settles back against her pillows and stares up at the ceiling again, refusing to give Chilton the honor of seeing her unsettled. "They come in pieces," she says drily, with a nonchalance she doesn't feel. "It'll be nice to have some in their undamaged form."

Chilton strolls over to the side of Alana's bed and sets the flowers on her bedside table, then gestures at the petals lying on her stark white sheets. "May I?" he asks, already hovering his fingers over their vibrant form.

"Go ahead."

He picks them up at one end and lifts them with evident distaste and curiosity, like a child showing off a decapitated worm. "Hmmm," he muses, "Crabapple blossoms. Rather pedestrian for someone in your circumstance; wouldn't you say?"

"There's a relief to be found in the expected," Alana says. "I've grown tired of surprises. Haven't you?"

Chilton hums and brushes off his fingers, letting the petals flutter to the floor. "How long until you start retching up full blossoms?"

Alana shrugs. "Difficult to say. Eager to be rid of me so soon?"

"Not exactly." Chilton fingers the silver head of his cane. "You got yourself to this garden, Dr. Bloom, but there are ways to... uproot it, so to speak."

Alana turns her head to look at him, attentive for the first time since he stepped foot in her hospital room. "You don't strike me as the charitable type," she says, uncertain of his aim.

Chilton shrugs a shoulder, and his lips twitch into a grin. "The enemy of my enemy..." He taps his cane lightly on the linoleum. "How long, do you think," he asks, "until Will Graham has reentered Hannibal's orbit?"

Alana lifts an eyebrow, and her own lips curl into a hint of a smile. "Not long. And with a little manipulation..."

Chilton hums. They watch each other for a moment, and then Chilton sniffs and makes his way to the door. "Once you're released from medical care," he says, "you know where to find me."

When he leaves, Alana's breath catches, and she coughs again.

This time, she spits out a purple columbine.

[journeyofthemoonprophet]

Yawa is, in fact, quite cross with you running off before sunrise. She does admittedly relent a bit when you explain the prophecy (even if you do exaggerate a tiny bit on how urgent they usually are), but she’s still upset about coming down from the loft to find you missing. You haven’t been scolded like this since your own grandmother caught you trying to climb a counter twice your height.

Apparently she’s mostly worried about the rest you’re getting... or, perhaps, the rest you’re not getting. Even when you do manage to sleep through the night, she doubts there’s terribly much rest behind it. You want to argue with her that even before this, you never slept as long of stretches at a time to begin with, but you still apologize for worrying her.

“Just be easy on yourself, dear,” she sighs, reaching up to ruffle your hair. “And maybe take a nap at some point.”

.

As you promised Akemi, she shows you through the parts of Wep’keer you missed yesterday. To your surprise, a few of the people from yesterday ask after you, seemingly pleased to hear you’re doing better today. You suspect they’re used enough to this with Kuki, especially with Akemi sitting on your head.

You still can’t tell how most of the villagers quite feel about you on their own. More than likely they just think you’re utterly strange, but in a way that makes them curious. The ones brave enough to talk to you seem especially drawn to your face, but in a menagerie of masks with the neighbors being small silhouettes, you suppose it’s a rare commodity.

“Maybe they find you handsome,” Akemi whispers, and you can’t tell if she’s making a joke or an actual suggestion.

.

“Can I ask about...?” You shift your lunch bowl to one hand, loosely gesturing with the other to Yawa’s mask.

“I’m surprised you haven’t earlier,” she muses, settling next to the hearth with her own meal. “It’s how we stay close to the spirits, protected from the evil ones and connected to the good. Wear them since we reach five years old, when we’re gifted our first. You’ve probably noticed the children with them.”

Five? You knew from the gods that mortals in Nippon live much shorter lives than those of the moon, but it still strikes you as incredibly young. “How do the gifters know what to pick for them?”

Yawa offers a casual shrug. “The same way a parent knows what to name their child, I suppose.” That could mean so many things, and yet at the same time, you think you understand.

.

You doubt it'll work, but you do try to honor Yawa’s suggestion for a nap in the afternoon. Even if you don't end up getting any sleep, it might at least do some good to sink your chin in your hand and rest your eyes for a bit. Especially with how rough your nights have been lately...

At some point in the stillness, you hear Yawa chuckle to herself. There’s quiet footsteps behind you, and you force yourself not to react as she settles a quilt around your shoulders. You never do fully doze off, but you're content to sit by the hearth and let your mind drift to the crackle of the fire and the shuffle of chores.

.

“Be honest with me,” you ask Akemi one evening, studying her from her perch upon your knuckles. “The first night... did you really come to see Kuki, or were you following me?”

Akemi hems and haws as she sways back and forth. “Well, you said all of your friends were...” She can’t finish the sentence, making a noncommittal noise as she forces herself to move on. “... which meant you were all alone. And you seemed like you could really use a friend here, too.” There’s a beat, then she adds one more thought: “Especially since you thought the Oina were going to kill you.”

Leave it to a child to bruise a man’s pride on top of the rest of his wounds. Maybe it’s good that said pride is no longer too numb to actually feel that particular punch. “Thanks Akemi.”

.

You are working the knots out of your hair when Kuki finally emerges from the loft. She glances away when you reflexively look up, hugging whatever she has close to her chest. This time, though, she’s braving peeks out the corner of her eye.

“Duck your head a bit?”

An odd request, but you comply, even shutting your eyes for good measure. Kuki nestles something on your head, and you blink your eyes open when you feel something settle over your shoulders and down your back. She takes a step back as you reach behind you, pulling around a length of cloth with the ends cut and dyed into feathers like a great wing. Actually it’s not one wing but two, draping around you like a veil.

“If the demons are going to hunt you,” Kuki says, “then you are going to need a way to hide.” Wait, did she...? You go to reach for whatever’s holding it on top of your head for a better look--“Yours is not for your face.”--and immediately put your hands back down. She stoops to hand you a bundle, and you do your best not to look her in the eye as she places it into your arms. “We asked the spirits for their blessing, as with any mask, but I don’t know what they’ll do for someone who’s already close to the gods.”

The bundle is your actual clothing, good as new. Seriously, you can’t even find where they had originally been torn. She’s even replaced the straps on your geta. Kuki fidgets when you get to your feet, but calms when you offer her a grateful bow. “Thank you, Kuki. Truly.”

Kuki’s words have left her, but she does offer you a little bow back. Only when she disappears back up the ladder again do you dare investigate. Your hands feel the shape of a beak, and when you pull the entire thing from your head, you find yourself staring into the carved face of an eagle.

[superblysubpar]

UGGGGHHHHHH LEEEIGGGHHHAANNNEEE

I'm still so in awe of how you've told this story, and the attention and care and love you've poured into the entire thing but especially these last two chapters. This is a story about steve and reader, but you don't dismiss his pain or past love, you honor it. You're navigating very real and hard emotions with so much grace and it was beautiful to get to read Steve and reader have this important conversation 💛

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

This actually punched the air out of my lungs. Like wow, the way you describe readers thoughts and feelings for the entire situation is so real and you do it so well!!

The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

UM?! POETRY. STRAIGHT POETRY.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

I'm fine...I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

SERIOUSLY WHO CAN WRITE ABOUT HOLDING HANDS LIKE THAT? LIKE IT'S POETRY. MY GOD.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

...hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain.

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him. 

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked. 

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that. 

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.  

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk? 

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily. 

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again. 

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place. 

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.  

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward. 

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him. 

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you. 

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.” 

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?” 

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question. 

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.” 

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad. 

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more. 

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath. 

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead. 

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

[twst-drabbles]

Grim 1

Summary: This is the beginning of how you and Grim meet, sorta. The difference? The world you were born was not void of monsters. In fact… You are one.

(I have a big love for cosmic horror and eldritch beings and just decided, fuck it, Eldritch Prefect AU. Well, half-eldritch Prefect. Eh, might make it into a full fledged fanfiction one day considering the amount of ideas I have in mind, but for now, I’m just gonna write out small snippets of it since nothing is cohesive yet.. Mind you, this AU will be taken in a serious light, as that is my preferred method)

Stupid college, stupid carriage. There is untapped greatness within Grim, he can feel it, he knows it! But if everyone is too stupid to even stop for a second to notice it, he’ll make people see it and bow down to it. Everyone deserves to witness him as he becomes the most powerful magician in the world!

But first, he needs a robe. Sure, he doesn’t have much of a need for them, but a great magician in training like him needs one. He must look his best.

…that and he knows he’ll get kicked out of here, but he’d rather not give that feeling any words so he pushed that down.

With amazing grace that only he is capable of, Grim managed to sneak past that weird man in the crow mask and he spots a coffin that’s a bit more isolated than all the others floating in the air. “Gates,” they were, or so that weird man uttered, dismayed at how many of them there were.

Well, one student wouldn’t be missed. He’d be taking their place after all! This person should be honored that they’re the first stepping stone to his road of fame. Still though…Grim can’t help but wonder this gate was so far away from the others.

Oh well, no use on wondering on that. He’s got a robe to get before the ceremony starts! He can’t be late for his debut.

Grim approaches the gate, getting his little paws under whatever gap there was, and pulled. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. The lid was too heavy, refused to give way from his prize. Then he heard footsteps echoing in this large chamber of a room.

Well, if this gate refuses to open up to him, he’ll just have to make it.

With his perfectly mastered magic, Grim let the flames from his breath consume the lid. Hehehe, nothing can truly resist his fire! Grim couldn’t help but twirl in the air, kicking out his feet at his own skills.

“Fire?” A sleepy voice, almost yawning out the word, sounded out from beneath the gate’s lid. Like an infection, it grabbed at Grim, seeking to sink deeper into his head with its multiple layers.

Grim’s bones went cold. Wasn’t the student inside supposed to be asleep? And isn’t there only supposed to be only one student in each gate? But Grim shook his head. He came here to become a magician, and if there is more than one person inside, well that’s just more chances for him to grab a uniform. He just needs to be sneaky about it. Nab one and go.

Grim shoved his paws under the lid once more, grinning as the lid started to move even though the skin underneath his fur started to shiver harder and harder. The coffin finally gave a small crack into it’s dark depths. He could see the pretty gold designs on the sleeve winking at him, taunting him to take it and wear as it own.

But before he could shove the lid open the rest of the way, a powerful force bashed the lid for him, nearly taking his claws with it. Grim gave a shrill yell, but nothing more as his eyes were forced to focus on the five large black tendrils that punched the gate open, pulsing with shifting blue-white veins as they retracted.

Grim wouldn’t know how to explain it. It seemed as though the very air around this area started to eat at the lights. The weight of that lid was nothing compared to the fear that weighted his lungs down. His ears refused to take in the confused voices of the other students, seeming nothing more than static to him.

Something grabbed the edge of the gate. He wanted to say it was a hand, it had the sleeve, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want to acknowledge it as a limb. A limb implies just one. Grim felt like he was watching multiple little ones. Fingers felt more correct, but also not.

The being in there sat up. The colors weren’t right, rippling about in a vague shape of a person, shifting the robes in such a hypnotizing pattern that Grim could only watch as it swiftly jumped out.

Only then did you look human.

Normal skin, normal hair, normal amount of limbs.

“Where am I?”

And a normal voice.

“H-ha—” Grim found his voice, feeling the need to say something, but when your head twitched in his direction, Grim flung himself right behind the flaming coffin. He can’t look into your eyes. He knows he can’t.

And you ran out the door just as other people started to pile in trying to see what made such a loud boom. They would only find a burnt coffin and a lid split in half.

Grim could only wait. When they too were gone, Grim suddenly gave a yowl so loud it shook his whole body.

“I forgot my uniform!”

Fear? He doesn’t know them. If he let’s himself be scared by someone like you, he’ll never be able to reach his dreams!