#to this day if water tastes even a little funny i dump it immediately

[tauforged]

i’m gonna mooch off these fuckers as long as i can because SOMEONE has to pay up for the several years when they slipped medication into applesauce and water bottles all throughout elementary school instead of telling me id been diagnosed with adhd and did untold damage to my ability to trust and eat/drink around other people. and also probably my developing brain considering i don’t even know what med i was on because they stopped after it got RECALLED 😭😭

[outerbankies]

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

[skeetusmcyeetus]

I’ve making headcanons about all of my hyper fixations for a while now and just dumping them on my friends so I’m gonna also dump them here.

If you’re into All For the Game , My Hero Academia, ATLA, The Raven Cycle stay fuckn tuned my doods bc I have a loooot of stuff rattling around my empty skull.

Not all of these are 100% mine some of them are already pretty popular and I’m expanding on them or I heard something similar and edited it to my own tastes

I’ll separate them by series,,,

Theres like one canon that’s mildly nsfw

TW: drug abuse

Mha/Bnha

pro hero kirishima’s Red Riot™️ merch is insanely size inclusive bc he wants fatgum to be able to wear the hoodie that kiri’s pr team sent him but that’s not all,,

If he wasn’t super gay and in love with Bakugou he’d be very Into BBWs so again his merch is super size inclusive bc he wants everyone to be able to wear it

The company that makes the merch also takes requests for special made merch for people who’s quirks interfere with a “normal” size or dimension

ALSO ,,,,this man(kiri) is built like a fuckn MACK TRUCK OKAY he is 6’7” and cannot fit through doorways without ducking and turning a little to the side ,,, he is broad And still wears no shirt™️ ,,, this being said ,, bakugou is still around 5’8” and pretty slim don’t get me wrong he’s extremely strong and toned but he’s not huge,, it makes flying easier if he stays a little lighter ,,,,,,, the point is,, sometimes kiri will pick up bakugou with one arm and bakugou can’t even pretend to hate it anymore

Also,,,, fatgum has to use special pens and keyboards because of how big his hands are,,, he’s literally 8’2” I won’t take criticism on this

Fatgum actually loves wearing red riot and sun eater merch

Allmight and Inko start dating and one day when they’re out someone comments on how much all might “looks like a skeleton” and she absolutley lets loose on them for being so vapid and shallow and how “he’s risked his life to save people like you more times than you have ever even thought about being helpful in your life and it would serve you well to treat someone who’d die for you without even knowing you with more respect”

All might had to gently pull her away bc the guy was crying and she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him

Midnight is Asexual and aggressively pretends to be horny on main™️ because for one, it works with her quirk and two, nothing sells better than sex especially when you’re a woman.

Bakugou and kirishima use sign language to talk shit at Public events

Dabi is addicted to painkillers because he’s been on them his entire life,, he wakes up with the shakes and sometimes toga has to help him take his meds in the morning because he’s already in withdrawal

Tensei was the first one to realize that iida was autistic and immediately did copious amounts of research on ASD and how to be a good brother to him

ATLA

sokka grows his hair as long as Zuko’s (except the sides obvi) and sometimes he’ll wear his hair in the fire nation top knot and zuko loses it every time

Azula gets help and now sometimes when she wakes up with the sun after a night of fitful sleep she goes to the courtyard to have tea with iroh. They never talk, but then again they never need to.

Sometimes after a hard day sokka falls asleep in the bathtub and wakes up to zuko warming the water back up and washing his hair for him

Suki lounges in zukos throne while zuko gets worked up about stuff and paces all around the room

Mai is on the ace spectrum

When sokka and zuko visit the southern water tribe zuko will firebend for the all of the kids in the village,,, they love him so much and sometimes sokka gets a little teary eyed watching him

Sokka braids zukos hair water tribe style and it’s the hottest thing maybe ever

Zuko takes sokka on shopping sprees pretty frequently and sokka fuckn loves it

One time someone has the nerve to call sokka “the fire lords sugar baby” and sokka just flips his ponytail over his shoulder Ariana style and says “and what about it?”

The Raven cycle

Ronan has 100% killed Robert Parrish in his dreams and when he wakes up to see Adam next to him he almost immediately wants to go back to sleep and do it again for all the pain he’s caused Adam

Gansey is oblivious to the fact that he is indeed shredded,, when he gets really worked up he moves his arms a l o t like rolls up his sleeves, crosses and uncrosses his arms and The gang’s favorite is when he puts his hands on his head and subconsciously flexes,,,, literally entire gangsey will group swoon at him and he genuinely thinks they are marvelling at his passion for whatever he’s worked up about

Ronan watched broke back mountain once when he was like 16 and now all he can think about is being a gay cowboy ,,,

Adam will read people’s tarot wrong if theyre douchebags

Don’t you think it’s funny that the ganseys don’t have any straight children?

Blue has a T-shirt from each member of the gangsey (except Noah,, rip Noah) and shes created a terrible Franken-T-shirt by ripping them up and sewing them all back together in an extremely ugly patch work thing

Adam talks in Latin in his sleep and it really freaks his roommate out,, like a lot,, not to mention the fact that Adam already creeps him out to begin with bc he’s got that other vibe that comes from being tied to cabeswater and lindenmere ,, 6 out of 7 days his roommate is convinced that he’s a witch or a fairy or something

Ronan teaches opal how to bake and opal burns everything on purpose

aftg

Neil has definitely killed multiple people to survive

Neil’s mom definitely made him kill someone at least twice to make sure he could kill to survive on his own if they got separated

he probably definitely still has nightmares about each one

Matt and Dan both had a crush on Neil for like 30 seconds and absolutely talked to each other about him

Ppl always talk about how hot it is to crush a watermelon with your thighs,,,, Andrew could do it with his arms

Aarons ass is so flat and Andrew has an absolute dumptruck

Kevin started out as one of those annoying “obsessed with WWII” history guys and now he’s actually very into queer history and will rant about the lavender scare for an hour if you let him

The foxes lounge room(?) has a dart board with riko’s face on it to this day,, they literally have a drawer full of copies the same image of riko and every time one gets worn out they put a new one up. It’s more of an inside joke now but wymack still hates that little puke even though he’s dead so it stays up

Post-canon Neil gets drunk and teaches the team how to steal a car by hot wiring Matt’s truck

Matt does drag for halloween one year and Dan liked it a little too much *cough cough* she pegged him while he was still in drag

Someone once asked Renee if she was “saving herself for marriage like a good Christian girl should” and Allison knocked them out cold and stepped over the body

Neil calls Aaron ugly to his face literally any chance he gets (I feel like this one might be canon but I actually don’t know What’s real anymore)

Andrew Unironically wears a pink apron that says “kiss the cook” that Nicky got him for Christmas when he bakes

Okay I think that’s it ? For now?? Let me know if y’all want more,,,,, I’ll separate them next time I just really had to dump these and I didn’t want to make multiple posts.

I made this at 5:30 in the morning sorry if it’s riddled with typos and errors.

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 4

Chapter warnings: none.

Chapter summary: You and Lee try and hash things out but there’s more to Lee than meets the eye.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

The drive started off very awkward and completely quiet. You both cleared your throats from time to time to defuse the tension, which didn’t make a lick of a difference. It’d been years since you rode in Lee’s cruiser and the last time you sat in that very seat he’d broken up with you. Your chest heaved at the memory. You still felt the phantom tears against your cheeks when he drove you to your house. Never would you have guessed you’d be right back here at his beck and call. You thought you were stronger than that, clearly not.

You thought Lee’s hold over you had disintegrated a while after you left town, but clearly it hadn’t. He says jump and you say how high. Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of it. He looked over at you which made you look over at him. His eyes were still that piercing blue that always left you speechless. His teeth were just as white as you’d remembered as you watched him toss a piece of candy in his mouth and grin.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, girl?”

You swallowed hard, “Heard you ain’t drinkin’ much these days. That why you’re eatin’ t candy now?”

He scoffed, “How did you get from drinkin’ ta candy? I can’t just have candy for no reason or just because I like the sweet taste on my tongue?” He smirked and suck the piece of candy into his right cheek. You watched him toss it around cheek to cheek before he spoke again, “And who told you that, anyway?”

You followed your arms and turned your gaze out the passenger side window, unable to answer him while watching him seductively eat a piece of candy, “I have my sources and I don’t ever remember you keepin’ a whole fuckin’ bag of candies in your car, is’ll.”

“Fuckin’ Karl.” He mumbled under his breath, trying to stay out of ear shout but you still heard him, “I stopped by Sandy’s on my way in and she gave me the candy, happy?” He asks rhetorically with a hint of sarcasm.

“Elated.” You answer him dryly anyway, “Why’re we goin to Ruby’s when there’re plenty of diners in town and are you even allowed to take the cruiser this far outta town, Bodecker?”

He sighs, “Why so many questions? I feel like I’m being interrogated.” He asks, already knowing the answer. When you’re nervous you can’t stop anything that passes your lips. You don’t like awkward silence and you’ll do anything to not have to sit in it. He always found that kind of annoying but aslo adorable at the same time. Eventually you’d start messing with his pens and steal a piece of his candy.

“Because I don’t trust you and I sure as hell don’t believe that bullshit about us ‘talkin things out so we can live in the same town again.’”

“Well, can you believe that maybe I just wanna catch up?” He asks, becoming a little frustrated.

“Why Ruby’s?” You repeated, stealing a piece of candy as Lee predicted. He missed having you around, he just wished it were under different circumstances.

“Because it’s your favorite.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered or something, that you remember my favorite diner?”

“Okay, you win. I officially regret this.” He sighs, slapping his hand down on the steering wheel. He seems annoyed but not angry. You watch his annoyed expression fall on you as he sighs. For some unknown reason you burst out laughing, leaning against the passenger door.

He laughs, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing it’s just.. you’ve changed so much and yet not at all. I still know every look and every sigh and.. every move you’re gonna make before you even do it. It’s kinda refreshing.. but I still hate you.” You watch his face turn up into a smirk, displaying his gorgeous teeth. He almost looked pained as if he hadn’t smiled in decades.

“God, I missed you.” He admitted, immediately clearing his throat. He didn’t mean to say it aloud but it clearly wasn’t up to him anymore, his heart was speaking for him too. He watched you fiddle with the candy wrapper as you processed what he said.

You could feel his hesitance. Did he really miss you or was it just him trying to make you feel comfortable? You didn’t know how to respond, so all you said was, “Okay.”

//

Once you got to the diner, Lee rushed you to the back booth. You knew why, of course. Everyone in town seemed to be appalled with your very existence, as if you’d done something. You wondered if they actually knew why they didn’t particularly like you or if they were just following the crowd. Like if one person were to speak on your behalf and say you’re a nice girl if people would treat you differently. You just have to find that one person.

Lee sat across from you in the sparkly red, plush booth, you thought he looked kind of silly, big, professional man in a tiny glittery booth, but you kept that to yourself. The waitress came by and gave you both a menu, taking your drink orders before walking away. You scanned over the many different food items, suddenly remembering you hadn’t had anything to eat all day. It was eight in the morning and all you could think about was the pancakes.

You eyed the pancake special, becoming a bit more giddy than expected and Lee noticed.

“What’re you so happy for?” He asked with a goofy smile of his own.

“Nothing, I just haven’t had breakfast and the thought of pancakes excites me, is’ll.”

Lee chuckled, “You can get whatever you want, doll. It’s on me.”

“Damn right it’s on you. This was your idea.” You remind him just before the waitress comes by with your drinks; two waters and a coffee.

“What’re we havin’?” She asks.

“Just coffee for me and pancakes for this one.” He says with a tilt of his head towards you.

“S’at all?” She asks, both of you nod. She takes your menus and walks away again.

“So, what did you wanna talk about, Bodecker?” You ask, taking a sip of your water.

“First of all, you’re killin’ me with this ‘Bodecker’ and ‘Sheriff’ shit just say my goddamn name.”

“Hmm, remind me what it was again?” You pretend to think, tapping your index finger against your chin.

“Lee!” He’s genuinely annoyed now.

“That’s right. Um, no. I think ‘Bodecker’ and ‘Sheriff’ work just fine, more professional, if you will.” You begin to fidget with the straw in your water, twirling it around in the ice. You didn’t like how this conversation started, you felt suddenly pressured to do something you didn’t wanna do and that made you nervous.

“Why are you bein’ like this?” He asked with a confused expression on his face.

“You wanna know why?” You came on a little stronger than expected as you felt your cheeks heat up. For being the one to cause your awkward situation, you didn’t think Lee would need an explanation. You were a little applaud he’d even ask for one, especially knowing what a touchy subject it is for you.

“Well, if you’re gonna get all pissy, then no.” He put his hands out in protest, giving you a bewildered look, wouldn’t wanna upset the Sheriff, now would we..?

You sighed, “I’m sorry, it’s just- I haven’t said your name once since.. the last time we..” you trailed off.

“’The last time we’ what? What do you mean?”

“Can we just drop it? I wanna talk about how we’re gonna deal with me living in town. You gotta get people to stop ignorin’ me or actin’ like I’m some exotic animal they ain’t never seen before.”

He chuckled, “what do you mean? How they act like you’re ’some exotic animal’?”

“They stare at me in awe, mouths wide open, along with their eyes. You’d think I’m famous or somethin’.”

“Well, I guess in Knockemstiff, you might just be famous.” He grinned.

“Thanks for that. Just put on my tombstone ‘here lies the girl who got dumped by the Sheriff’... that’s my legacy.” You fade off, thinking of how tragic that actually sounded. You suddenly felt a burning in your chest. Your anger was building and you knew just who to let it out on.

“No, that’s not your lega-“

“Why me, huh?” You ask before letting him finish. “Outta all the girls to torment, why me?”

“Because I loved you.” He said with glossy eyes as if he’d wanted to say that to you in particular for so long.

“You sure as shit coulda fooled me. I’ve wasted a lot of time on you, Bodecker. I mean when we dated and after we broke up. I was a mess and the only person to make it better was you and.. and you never showed up.”

“You don’t think I wanted to?” He asked, losing his temp on you.

“No, I don’t, not because you loved me, anyway. If anything you only would’ve showed up as a way to forgive yourself.”

He scoffed, “How could you possibly think that?”

“Because.. you gave up on caring about me and my feeling the second you chose her. The second you agreed to be with her, behind my back, and dump me, is the second you lost the privilege of being my person.”

“If I could go back in time and undo what I did, I would. I’m sorry, y/n. I really am.”

“For what? For what you did or for how it turned out?”

He sighed, “Both.”

“I know you’re miserable and I know you don’t love her. So, did you really give up on us because you were power hungry? Being Sheriff meant more to you than our future together?” Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Yes, but I regretted it the second I saw the first tear you cried that day. I wanted nothin’ more than to take it back, say I was jokin’ or somethin’ but I couldn’t. The look you gave me in that moment.. I knew I’d already lost you. And yes, I think about where we’d be if I didn’t completely ruin us.” He faded off as he told you the daydreams that never leave his mind, “I picture us renovating your momma’s house, puttin’ up a white picket fence, havin’ a couple babies on your hips, my babies. Everyday I imagine it’s you I drive home to, not Laura-Jean. Sometimes I just picture you sittin’ on the porch with me on a hot day drinkin’ your momma’s famous sweet tea. And if I close my eyes I can see you laughin’ and with sun shinin’ right down on you, kissin’ your beautiful skin.”

You look around awkwardly, trying so hard not to make eye contact. If you make eye contact you’re done for, he might as well take you out of the diner that second because you’re good as fucked. You wanted to believe every word Lee said, you wanted to chop them up and eat them with your pancakes, but you can’t. He did you so wrong in the past that you just don’t think you’ll ever believe him or trust him in the future.

Lee looked at you pained but you couldn’t see it.Your eyes counted the speckled dots on the table in front of you, desperate not to look up, until. “Y/n, look at me.” And you did. Why did you look up? “You loved me in a way no one ever had and I fucked it up. I’m truly, deeply sorry for that, y/n. Whether I’m sayin’ it more for me or you, I don’t know but just know that I live with this mistake everyday of my miserable life. But, hey, at least I’m the Sheriff right?” He joke, giving you a sad smirk.

The sadness in his blue eyes made you want to crumble, get up from your seat and wrap him in your arms, but you don’t. All you can think about is how he reacted when you wore the same except look.

“Yeah, at least you got what you wanted, besides the picket fence and two healthy boys to call your own, and me. Happily married and sun kissed” You brushed it off as if his daydreams of you being married with children meant nothing to you, when really your entire body was buzzing. “And, just so you know, I’m way past needing to hear your apology. Right now I wanna eat my pancakes and work this shit out. Being gawked at like an exotic animal has gotten old. I’d like to be invisible again.”

He gave you a weak smile, “Okay.”

“Alright, here’s your pancakes and syrup. Can I get you anything else?” The waitress asked after handing you the warm plate of pancakes.

“You chocolate milkshake for the road, Doll.” He smiled up at, making you miss the loving smile he used to give you.

“Comin right up, enjoy.”

You talked, well, Lee talked while you ate and came up with a plan. Anytime he heard someone in town gossiping or spreading rumors he would interfere and steer the conversation in another direction. He said he couldn’t exactly defend you because it would look bad, especially during the campaign season and word would get back to Laura-Jean.

“Has she asked you not to talk to me yet?” You asked, stuffing your face with the last bite of pancakes.

“How’d you know?” He wondered.

“I was her best friend for 15 years, I know how she is.”

“You know about her crush on me when we was datin’?”

“Nope.”

“I can’t believe you never saw it. I knew she liked me before I knew you liked me.” He admitted.

You felt a blush creep across your cheeks, “Why not date her then? Woulda saved us a lot of heartache, don’t ya think?” You grinned but felt the pit in your stomach expand, again.

“Girl, I knew I loved you the second you said my name. That’s why I wanna hear you say it so badly. It sounds so sweet comin’ from your lips.”

You cleared your throat, desperately trying not to fall for his games, “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Sayin’ your name is like a sin to me.”

“You never minded sinnin’ a little when you were with me, what changed?”

“Check please!” You motioned for the waitress. “I’m not feeding into this, Bodecker. I’ve played your mind games and I lost. You just worry about gettin’ everyone off my back and Laura-Jean won’t ever hear of us speakin’ or seein’ each other again, because we won’t be doin’ either.”

“You’re no fun.” He frowned.

“I used to be and look where it got me; Heartbroken and alone.” The waitress brought the check and the chocolate milkshake to go, “I’ll be in the car.” You said before standing from the booth and leaving the Diner.

The car was locked when you got there, so you stood and waited, twirling the straw around in the shake. You could help but think about Lee. How could he be so nonchalant about your past relationship?

Yours and Lee’s relationship meant everything to you. He was your first serious boyfriend and the love of your life. You felt like that meant nothing to him. Like you were some chick he had on the side for those 3 years y’all dated.

You sighed, taking a sip of your milkshake. Even with how angry he makes you, your mind slips away to the daydreams he has about you. He pictured y’all being married, which was no surprise to you because you guys talked about getting married all the time when you dated.

You closed your eyes, picturing it all. Two rowdy, little boys playing in the front yard, Lee sitting next to you on the porch swing with his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his boyish life ringing in your ears.

You were so lost in the daydream you hadn’t heard Lee walk up. You didn’t even know he was near you until you smelled his familiar musk and felt his hand touch your waist. Now you knew he was close, but before you could even think to open your eyes, Lee gently pressed his lips to yours in a quick peck, resting his forehead against yours when he pulled away. You hadn’t reacted the way you thought. You thought you’d recoil, spit in his face or throw your milkshake in his face. Instead, you felt the milkshake slip from your fingers, falling to the dusty ground as you grabbed his face, bringing him in for another kiss.

This kiss was deeper. You both felt every emotion you’d had bottled up for so long. Every tear that you shed and every crack in your heart was being mended just by the feel of his lips. You missed the feel of his freshly shaved, aftershave covered skin against your hands, the feel of his lips and how ridiculously plump and pink they were, or the little grunts he makes when you scratch at the nape of his neck.

You felt his protruding belly press against yours, pinning you up against the cruiser. The kiss became deeper once his tongue entered your mouth, causing you both to moan at the familiar tastes you both shared.

“T-take me home.” You pant against his lips.

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime , @lady-loki-ren , @dime-piece-xo , @greeneyedblondie44 , @cherryblossomskye , @amelia-song-pond , @thedaughterofwandavision , @vghz82 , @vintagepigeon , @bxmaaa @steverogers123-blog , @quxxnxfhxll , @rhislean , @pinecrest , @jackiehollanderr , @girlfriday007 , @fanofalltheficsx , @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable , @krazykatkay456

Dm to be tagged :)

[neitherlightnordark]

METTATON: A SINGULAR SPOTLIGHT.

METTATON: THE ROOM IS DIM. THE AIR IS NASCENT. EYES REST ON THE STAGE IN ANTICIPATION- CAN YOU FEEL IT? TASTE IT?

METTATON: THE PINK, THE BLUE, RISING HIGH IN THE AIR?

METTATON: THE HYPE, THE LOVE?

METTATON: IT'S ALL FOR ONE PERSON.

METTATON: ONE WONNNNDERFUL GENIUS LIZARD MONSTER.

METTATON: MONSTERS OF ALL AGES, WITH ALL THE GLEE I HAVE EVER CONTAINED, I PRESENT TO YOU:

METTATON: THE GREAT

METTATON: ILLUSTRIOUS

METTATON: SUPERB

ALPHYS: [snort]

METTATON: ALLLLLLLLPHYS!!!

[Canned applause.]

ALPHYS: T-thank you!

METTATON: REFRESHMENTS ARE PROVIDED IN THE SHAPE OF HER DISTINCTIVE FACE!

ALPHYS: Mettaton, let's-

METTATON: CARDBOARD CUTOUTS OF HER WAVING ARE SCATTERED ABOUT STRATEGICALLY, FOR OPTIMUM PHOTO OPS!

ALPHYS: Mettaton!!

METTATON: HER SAYING MY NAME MAKES ME REALLY, REALLY HAPPY, I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE THAT, BUT-

ALPHYS: Mettaton, heh- oh, geez, I didn't even get to introduce you properly-

ALPHYS: Okay, come on, s-sit down!

ALPHYS: And turn on the lights! I- I can barely see our notes this way.

METTATON: WAS THAT A GOOD INTRO?

ALPHYS: (Shh, shh, we're live!!)

ALPHYS: Uh, I mean, yes! Um, that was really good!

ALPHYS: Honestly, I'm- I'm shocked at how easy that looked for you, we barely rehearsed this...

METTATON: STARDOM IS INSTINCTUAL!

[Canned laughter.]

ALPHYS: R-right...

ALPHYS: Hi, audience!

ALPHYS: This is really just a test run, so, so sorry if we do any fumb- fumbling today...

ALPHYS: The first podcast of- of the Human Fanclub!

[Canned applause.]

ALPHYS:

METTATON: I THINK IT ADDS FLAIR.

ALPHYS: Pfhehehe...

ALPHYS: Today we're going to be talking about the one thing we're both really- really knowledgeable about! And that's inventions.

ALPHYS: Humans have built so many ama- amazing things. It's really only by scavenging from what drops down here that we have things like, like WiFi, and ovens and tablets...

ALPHYS: Which!

ALPHYS: Which, isn't really a, a good thing, but...

ALPHYS: Yeah.

METTATON: ONLY BY SAMPLING FROM THE MORALLY GRAY CAN A TRULY DECADENT MEAL BE MADE.

ALPHYS: I don't think that's a saying... I don't think anyone says that...

METTATON: BUT IT IS A GOOD ONE, RIGHT?

ALPHYS: Yeah, actually!

[Podcast music begins playing.]

ALPHYS: Umm, so when we first fell in the Underground we didn't have much technology at all. Lots of our magic did the work for us, like- like fire magic and healing attacks...

ALPHYS: And it wasn't like the R- the old Home was a hotspot for falling human trash!

ALPHYS: One of the first things we began innovating with was, curiously enough, puzzles. We knew how to build, we knew how to do baseline, baseline surviving down there, but... I dunno, it's just really interesting to me how we immediately turned to art like it was one of the key parts of surviving down there.

ALPHYS: Which it was!! We incorporated dangers into our puzzles that a human- a human wouldn't be able to pass through, sometimes. But mostly they were just exercises for children. A way to pass- to pass the time, to stretch out t-the days a little longer...

ALPHYS: Make the walk home a little more, um, eventful...

ALPHYS: Which I can, I can understand. L-like I said, staying stimulated and enriched was really important to keeping us alive.

ALPHYS: What's curious about this is that humanity- humanity mirrored us up top!

ALPHYS: Instead of having only the b-baseline of what they needed, they had literally everything. Perfect food, perfect- perfect medicine, plenty of green spaces to visit, mental health specialists, knights defending their k-kingdoms...

ALPHYS: So they began improving upon the more... the more fr-frivolous parts of life. Their data processors began- began running games. They began sending out stories that someone could listen to, and eventually see on a screen, from all over!

ALPHYS: At- it's funny because their stories became more varied and rich...

ALPHYS: From my research, though, ours just told the- the same ones, over and over.

METTATON: ANOTHER REASON HUMANS ARE SO FASCINATING.

ALPHYS: (Shh-shh!!)

ALPHYS: It's a matter of placement.

ALPHYS: I- I'm sure that if humans were locked under here by monsters, they'd be te-telling the same stories over and over too!!

ALPHYS: ...

METTATON: ...

ALPHYS: Anyway...

ALPHYS: We advance to... current times, when we've explored all the Underground has to offer. Tech- technology has really advanced due to us discovering a few more openings to Mount Ebott's surface- namely, the big cluster of holes in Waterfall!

ALPHYS: If you're a frequenter of the garbage dump,

ALPHYS: which I am,

ALPHYS: you've probably seen things down there that humans would consider priceless! Maybe you've discovered your favorite book down there. Maybe a really pretty sculpture of a frog.

ALPHYS: My personal favorite is- is any human history that falls down! Books, comics, whatever, it's always never what you expect.

ALPHYS: And it's always really... hopeful. Also something you don't really expect...

[Inspiring music slowly gets louder in the background.]

ALPHYS: Comparing our parallel histories from a point of something we have in common, like- like innovations, and how we react to getting better- is really interesting, because it shows that maybe...

ALPHYS: That maybe- Mettaton!

METTATON: WHAT? I'M BEING SO INSPIRED, ALPHYS!

ALPHYS: O-o-oh, it's- it's really nothing!! I'm just- I'm just saying what I think, and

METTATON: YOU SHOULD DO THAT MORE OFTEN!

ALPHYS: Mettaton!!

METTATON: AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, FOLKS!

ALPHYS: Yeah, that's- whew- that's a short one for today! Just- just to see what you guys think.

ALPHYS: If you liked the podcast, uh... stick around for the next one?

ALPHYS: Thank you for everyone who tuned in!

METTATON: THIS IS METTATON AND ALPHYS, HUMAN FANCLUB, SIGNING OFF!

ALPHYS: Oh, gosh, I need some water.

[blackwidow-bby]

Right Where I Want You ch.3 - Natasha Romanoff x Evil!Reader

Oof hey guys that follow with this series, I am so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated and written anything. My brain is in a dump but I will be taking request soon to hopefully get some spark to continue writing!

Warnings: obsessive/red flag personalities, slight suggestive language, any others let me know

Taglist: @diaryoflife

———————————————————————

Natasha’s POV

It took a week for Natasha to finally get to a place where she felt safe and far away from you. The whole week, she spent thinking about you. What she had done and how she had missed very important information like you having powers. How did she miss the trap you had set her up in? It was Natasha that wanted you, how could she not see that you had done the exact same thing back to her. You were sneaky.

Your sneakiness from the abandoned den, meant that Natasha from this moment on would have to be on her toes. She’d be lying if she said the stunt you pulled back there didn’t make her want you even more. Her little baby had a dark side. Natasha felt a rush constantly thinking about how much you wanted her back, but a sour taste still remained on her tongue at being played so well by you.

Natasha would have been more okay with you wanting her had you simply allowed her to do everything she planned. Flipping the script like that on a professional and dangerous ex-assassin will certainly earn you a nice punishment, but Natasha needed to regroup. She needed to come up with something that would get you under her command. She wanted her shy, submissive little doll back. All she had hoped for to come from her plan was the perfect partner, who would do anything Nat had to say.

Natasha in all of her frustration, punched the tree closest to her. This meant it would take much longer to have you. She defeatedly meandered into one of the few save houses she knew she could go to. Running for a week to put as much distance between where she was left her caked in old sweat and dust. Her hair that had been tied in a ponytail, had been neglected. She needed a shower and some rest immediately.

Natasha placed all of her belongings she ran away with (which wasn’t much), on the small dining room table near the kitchen. Her sore legs and feet dragged her along on autopilot to the only main bathroom in the small shack. The dehydration, hunger, and sleep she missed out on was finally starting to catch up to her. She slowly with half closed eyes, peeled away her suit and rubbed at her own muscles as she removed her clothing. She reached up wincing at the feeling of her arms as she tried to let her hair down to fall at her shoulders.

She moseyed to the shower and turned on the shower head as hot as she could stand. The water did wonders to relax her aching muscles making a mental note to never go so long without another bath. She leaned forward on the wall and just allowed the water to run over her. The dirt and grime falling down her body in trails toward the drain. She let her eyes close for a second.

“What am I going to do now”

———

Y/n’s POV

This is the second time you awoke with a pounding in your head and made a mental note to stop letting this happen to you. You could feel your muscles spasm in your arms, stomach, and legs from the electric pulses of Natasha’s widow bites. Sure it wasn’t enough to kill you but god, did they hurt. You groaned out loud and slapped the ground. Immediately you beat yourself up for your guard falling on Natasha. You’d have her if you mentally focused on controlling your powers more and less on what you would have done after. It was just so easy to get caught up in her features.

Time to get up, you thought. It took about 5 minutes walking around the dark room until you found a door. Once you made your way outside, you looked back at the building she had taken you. The building was just small enough to not be seen amongst the the woods it sat. You’d really have yo come looking for it to know it was here.

Your brain felt like mush from the prior events but you did make note that it was dark outside still. You weren’t passed out for long, which made you feel better about finding Natasha again. There was a tiny open widow when it came to your powers, that left a tiny pull on whoever you used them on last. You maintained a good grip on Natasha during your altercation which hopefully was enough to follow the full for a while. Unfortunately unlike some inhumans with telekinetic powers, you aren’t able to levitate for long, meaning the majority of you trip will be spent by foot.

C’mon princess, you said to yourself, let’s put those years of camping to good use.

——

After 5 days on Natasha’s trail, your frustration had grown more. You could still feel the faint vibrations of your powers emanate off of Natasha but without actually seeing her, you had no clue how far she could really be. You doubt you could sleep in another conveniently unlocked car. The pure obsession with having Natasha and the need to find her soon really clouded your judgment. You’d never be in this situation under any other circumstances. 5 days without a shower? 5 days eating cheap crappy food? 5 days in old unchanged clothes?

What in the entire fuck had gotten into you. If you didn’t find her soon, the pull your powers have will completely dissipate soon. The rational part of your brain had shut down with your over powering need to find her. To have her in your arms, body trembling under your—ugh. You were growing angrier by the second. Both at yourself and you current predicament.

She’ll see just how much you want her yet…

——

1 1/2 days later

You had no clue how long you’ve been walking in the woods. The last pull you got from Natasha was at the tree line of a forest you have no clue where it’s located. You followed blindly the whole way.

Tears were falling down you face in anger. You came all this way for this woman who had enchanted your every thought process. Had the audacity to knock you out to trap you inside some crappy shed. Sent you on a wild goose chase unprepared. Your feet hurt, your body hurt, god forbid she pass more gas stations on her trek. But now the pull you felt completely diminished. You. Were. Livid. She’d pay for getting you lost. The only thing you could think was to walk straight forward making no curves or turns at any point. Hopefully you’ll find something.

Your knees quaked under your weight. Your eyes and hands had that slight glow of gold around them. Your emotions were getting to you big time. You just wanted to find her and hold her and scold her for making you come all this way. You walked and walked until things started looking hopeless. It was so dark outside. You had been doing this for days and finally the results looked bleak. More tears fell. You were clenching your jaw to try and keep the sobs you wanted to release at bay. You had failed and ultimately it looked like it was going to result in your death.

You kept forward until something in the distance came into view. A small orange light among the black blue darkness of the forest. It might not be what you want but maybe it will get you back home, food, a shower, something. With the last bit of strength and adrenaline left, you jogged closer to the light. It was getting bigger and brighter and closer. Fisting your hands to hold back the anger the previously was eating away at you. People won’t help you if you’re mean to them y/n.

You had stumbled so many times. The rush of getting to this cabin that was being inhabited had sparked a new amount of determination. You would live to plot capturing Natasha another day. Natasha. That saucy minx. There she goes inhabiting your mind again. She always did. Ever since you started seeing her on the news. Something about her just made you body tingle with admiration. You truly just couldn’t stay away from her could you? No matter, once you find her again, you’ll make her cry the very same way you did during your journey. Desperately and in defeat.

Your feet came to a halt once you reached the steps of the porch. It was another small cabin, similar to the building Natasha had brought you to but more homely and cozy. You peaked through the window that the light was coming from. It showed a quaint little kitchen completely open with a dining table and what must be a “living room”. Although a living room should have more furniture than a futon.

Other than the light in the home, this place looked uninhabited. Maybe they left the door unlocked. Walking silently to the door you reached to try the handle. Normally you’d have a million and one things to say about just entering a strangers home but you were desperate. At this point you’d be happy with a gun in your face if it meant they’d let you bathe first.

The handle turned….

It’s unlocked…

You carefully made your way inside the house. “Hello?” You called out “I seem to be lost, is someone home?” Not a single physical answer except the sound of…a shower.

——

Natasha’s POV

Natasha doesn’t know how long she had her eyes closed but judging by the pruning of her fingers, she had been there for a while. Funny how she managed to fall into a sleep while being in such a slippery place. No matter, time to get washed up now. She reached for the almost full bottle of shampoo that was left and barely used do you the exclusivity of this little safe house. Normally she’d rather have a more neutral smelling shampoo other than peach. It always seemed so childish and carefree to indulge in such strong feminine scents to her. It almost made her feel guilty to have a favorite smell when she spent a majority of her life killing people for a job and now getting down and dirty to right every wrong she’s ever made in the past. Maybe she shouldn’t have captured you.

Her ministrations halted at that thought. She stared blankly ahead under the water as the soap rinsed down out of her hair. Her lip quivered and her eyes slowly began to water. She really messed up. Her quick obsession had caused her to capture a secret inhuman woman to coax her into being Natasha’s ultimate sweet submissive little kitten. It had all backfired. She could have had it all along had she been upfront. You liked her back. That wasn’t something Natasha half expected. You were just as obsessed with her as she was with you. Shaking her of her thoughts, she scrambled back to getting clean. That’ll have to wait till tomorrow.

Nat had just moved on to scraping her body of all the disgust she accumulated over the week. As she was about to turn the shower off she heard a noise that made her entire body turn ghost white…

Hello?

It was you.

I seem to be lost, is someone home?

Oh no…

————————————————————————

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 8125 ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genres: secret relationship, some slice of life uni moments, FLUFF, very light angst, spice, roommates!wonhui.

✧✎ synopsis: you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✧✎ a/n: NOBODY MOVE! I WROTE A JUN BDAY FIC ;_; this is really just me projecting all my years of love onto a word doc. enjoy!!

It was midnight, and the apartment was dark, unmoving. No one had bothered to clean the blue cereal bowl left in the sink and there remained bread crumbs on the countertop from lunch. As you flicked through the strange glimpses of late-night television, yawning in an outrageous width, there was a hunger pang, accompanied by an immediate craving for some sort of sweet candy.

So, you did what seemed best: fit into your sneakers and a windbreaker and push open the door to Jun’s bedroom while he was curled up on his side watching his drama. Wonwoo would usually be occupying the adjacent bed, though he had stayed over at Joshua’s dorm to study for his next history summative. Yet he’d left his beat-up, decaying textbook on his pillow.

“Put on your slippers or something, we’re going to the convenience store.”

Jun didn’t say anything, rather he continued holding out his phone, the bedsheets pulled taunt to his nose. Looking at Jun’s desk that sat next to the door, you picked up the rubber band ball he’d been adding to since his twelfth-grade year and threw it at his shoulder.

“Ow!” He squeaked dramatically. His head then poked over his shoulder as he attempted to see where the ball rolled off to.

“Put on your slippers,” you reiterated, “I want strawberry tangs.”

Without much effort, Jun quickly gave up looking for the elastic ball and returned to watching his drama, establishing his comfort while somehow still persisting to ignore you. He was very much so a homebody, and if it weren’t for you guiding him out the apartment like a grandchild taking their elderly for an afternoon walk, then he might’ve never left his bedroom apart from his class schedule. Yet, you knew exactly how to persuade him, weaken his heart that was already soft and golden.

An immediate whine rumbled in his throat when you jumped on the bed, pulling at him until he finally rolled onto his back, at last pressing pause on his phone. You tossed a thigh over each side of his silhouette and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders, gazing unflinchingly past his black fringe and into those big, glistening eyes.

“Come with me to the store,” you weren’t sure if you were offering or demanding, “please?”

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

“Walking around alone at night? Hello? Do you have no concern for me?” Came your joking counter.

He tossed his head back, the black fringe bouncing from his lashes. His capitulating yelp of, “fine, fine, I’ll come” was satisfactory enough for you to remove yourself from the boy’s tiny waist, where you stepped on the floor and nearly sprained your ankle due to that dumb, elastic ball. At least you found it. While you returned the toy to his desk, Jun quickly threw a worn jean jacket over his black long sleeve and didn’t bother bending down to fix his sneakers, his heels jutting out the back.

At the convenience store, the only shoppers were you, Junhui, and this lady wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, though you figured she was far from the strangest of the midnight stragglers.

It was rather quiet, even with the fluorescent lights buzzing and the battery-powered fan keeping the cashier cool at the register. You grabbed the first package of strawberry tangs while Jun sorted through the other flavours very meticulously.

“What about blue raspberry?” He said. “You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know, I just really have a craving for strawberry.”

Jun detached a bright green package from the rack. “Sour apple? What about that?”

“Not tasty at all. Pass.”

He grabbed another package and quirked his eyebrow. “Sweet cherry? Come on. That sounds good.”

You lightly hit his arm with the strawberry candy, your laughter echoing over the shelves, “I just want strawberry! If you think the sweet cherry sounds good then you buy it!”

But Jun just shook the black fringe from his playful gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tangy zangys are the bottom tier of gummy candy. No way.”

“So shut up then.” The words were harsh, yet your smile was no more menacing than a butterfly.

Since it would be impossible for Jun to leave the store without stocking his snack collection, you shopped for longer than expected, filling a basket with spicy chips and hard candies and a few chocolate bars. Heading home down the nighttime street, beneath the moonlight, the infinite expanse of a blackness that felt like a cocoon, you had already ripped open your strawberry tangs while Jun tore the corner off a tiny pouch of bubblegum poprocks.

They crackled loudly on his tongue, in which he made sure to hover in close proximity to your ear, ensuring you could detect every small fizzle. Each time it warranted you to shove him away, muttering a cheap laugh about how it wasn’t required that he lean in so generously, though you couldn’t evade that one nervous thought ticking at the back of your head: you wanted to kiss him, wrap your palm around Jun’s neck and taste the electric bubblegum from his heart-shaped mouth.

“Aren’t you glad you came with me?” You asked, suckling the sugar off a red candy strip.

Jun swallowed his poprocks. “I guess you can word it like that.”

Standing at the living room fish tank, you opened the tab to the flake box and shook the food into the water, your pink guppy who you had so fittingly named, Princess Pebble, swimming toward the surface in order to nip at the flakes. Wonwoo observed you from his seat at the kitchen table, dragging his spoon through the remainder of his cereal, scooping out the last soggy pieces.

“I feel good about it,” Wonwoo hummed, referring to the history test he wrote yesterday, “I think I might’ve left out some information on the essay question.”

You closed the fish flakes and returned to the table, where you left your cup of tea.

“Eh, who cares,” you mumbled behind the rim, “you’re gonna get like a ninety-five anyways.”

The boy shrugged, pressing a fingertip to his glasses, moving them higher up his nose. He had always been diligent with his studying, though he often left the apartment to write notes at the library or a classmate’s dorm. It was difficult to accomplish much when Junhui would distract him, and rather than reading his textbook, Wonwoo would always end up playing computer games with the latter.

“Did you hear Jun come home last night?” You asked, gulping the rest of your tea.

Wonwoo set his bowl into the sink and filled it with water, smiling. It irked you somehow. You were only curious about whether or not he heard Jun return from his dance practice.

Joining him at the sink to clean your mug, you bumped his elbow. “What’s so cute over here?”

“Nothing,” he hummed dismissively, “I heard him crawl into bed, that’s pretty much it.”

“And that’s funny or something?”

“You ask about him quite frequently.” Wonwoo turned to you with a suspecting glance, one that made you subtly desire to dump a cup of water over his head. “You know that, right?”

The morning air was cool, yet your face felt immensely heated, almost prickling.

“I ask because we’re fri—”

“Friends. Yeah, yeah.” Wonwoo huffed, the omniscient smile creeping back toward his mouth, to which you could do nothing apart from gawk at your roommate despite his reiteration of a musing that wasn’t at all unfamiliar. “I’ve always loved you for your innate sense of comedy. It’s priceless.”

It’s what everyone assumed anyways. You and Jun fought tooth and nail to articulate your friendship, to paint with the colours that would lead everyone to believe it was true. Most often your explanations worked, yet there remained some who were particularly stubborn. Wonwoo was an evident case. But he was too close, too eagle-eyed, and he saw that you and Jun behaved in a manner completely beyond friendship. Despite the likewise feelings, something unbeknownst kept you apart.

“I know exactly what that means, idiot!” Echoed your shout as Wonwoo disappeared down the corridor, hoping to take refuge in his bedroom.

“I’m glad!” The depth of his voice reverberated into the kitchen, and you heard his door quickly shut.

No less than a few seconds later did Junhui reveal himself from around the corner, clean and freshened up after a steamy shower, one he desperately needed upon immediately passing out, sweat-soaked and exhausted in his bed the night before. Soonyoung definitely hadn’t taught their lesson with any degree of ease. Pretending you weren’t just quipping at Wonwoo, you smiled.

“Were you two fighting?” Jun asked, pulling out a frying pan from the cupboard. He usually whipped together an omelette for breakfast.

“No, not at all. We never fight, remember?”

Jun scoffed while opening the fridge, removing an egg carton and a plastic wrapping filled with vegetables. Still hungry, you started peeling open a tangerine from the fruit basket and stood next to him as he organized the produce onto a cutting board. Ever so faintly, you could smell the crisp scent to his aftershave. It was peculiar how a bit of foam could render your chest that cottony.

“In fact, when’s the last time you even remember an argument Wonwoo and I had?” You prodded.

“Two days ago,” Jun laughed, “when Wonwoo wanted to watch that exploration documentary on King Tut, but you changed the channel so you could finish the last season of Home Makeover.”

Pressing his rose lips together, Junhui casted you an innocent glance. “So there’s that.”

Separating a small slice of tangerine, you gently pushed the clove into the boy’s mouth. He smiled softly as he began to chew. With the gentle tang of citrus in the air, you set a hand on Jun’s shoulder and buried your face against his warm neck, whispering, “yeah, and it was definitely worth it.”

Quite frankly, neither you, Jun, Wonwoo, or Joshua were fairing optimally at the library. While Wonwoo sat on the opposite side of the table helping Joshua organize his economics presentation, you were neglecting your biology packet, instead choosing to sketch a tiny Princess Pebble in the paper’s upper corner. Jun had been tasked with reviewing his latest theatre script, yet he hadn’t even flicked through it. He was intrigued by one of the numerous mangas he’d saved to his phone.

“Take the last point off here,” Wonwoo said, peering over Joshua’s shoulder at his laptop, “there’s too much text, and this isn’t a major branch of your topic anyways.”

Joshua sighed as he made a few clicks on his keyboard. “Dude, I don’t think I can edit another word. This class is so boring.”

“Mr. Canning is just a boring professor,” Wonwoo sympathized, “it would be best if it were someone who weren’t so… dry. I guess is the right word.”

Slumping back in his chair, Joshua huffed, “he’s like a human chalk stick.”

Desperate to discuss something that wasn’t related to his lacklustre econ class, Joshua spared a glance at Jun’s unopened script. “Shouldn’t you be learning that?” He asked.

Jun didn’t look away from the phone in his lap. “I can’t do it here.”

“That means he’s going to open it for the first time at one in the morning, the day of his performance.” You chuckled, outlining the sketch of your guppy using Wonwoo’s pink gel pen.

Harshly, Jun’s hand smacked your knee under the table and you couldn’t help but laugh, garnering an over-the-shoulder glare from a student in the corner who’d been trying to focus on their colossal textbook. Wonwoo smiled at them apologetically while Joshua feigned as though he were typing something on his laptop. However, Jun’s hand didn’t leave your knee, and your laughter became an immediate drought, to which the sole thing you could feel was his palm creeping higher up your leg.

Attempting to be subtle, you turned your head slightly and looked at the boy with a bit of a warning expression, though Jun simply continued to scroll through his manga.

“I’m going to check the world history section,” Wonwoo announced, rising from the table, “anyone want to come with?”

Joshua pushed out his chair. “I’ll come just so I don’t have to stare at this shitty powerpoint.”

As soon as the boys walked beyond earshot, you pinched the edge of Jun’s ear. He finally tossed his phone onto the table, though he didn’t exactly appear compassionate, rather he was smirking, for he knew if you truly didn’t want his hand touching your leg then you would have bumped it away.

“You can’t do that.” Nonetheless, there surmounted a need to establish some insignificant boundary, one that neither of you were going to follow through. “Not when they’re so close.”

“But they didn’t see.” Jun replied, squeezing your inner thigh. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. What if Joshua saw?” At that point, Wonwoo was fairly conditioned to your lingering fingertips, grazes and stares. He usually pretended not to notice them. However, Joshua was a risk.

Jun shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry too much? I always touch your leg.”

That was the problem. People trying to convince other people that their relationship was wholly platonic didn’t linger in such an intimate way. They didn’t creep fingertips up the other’s inner thigh beneath a tablecloth, or possess a gaze that traced the other’s lips like a delectable piece of candy when they spoke. There shouldn’t be any whispers pressed quickly against the other’s ear when no one else was looking, or the dire urge to climb into the other’s lap when their legs were wide open.

Both of you were afraid. Neither of you wanted to break the question that would thrust your relationship into the light. You kept waiting for the right time, but it always seemed one step ahead.

The movie theatre was nearly empty as the longwinded credit screen continued rolling, the last few congregations throwing their soda cups and empty packages into the garbage on their way out. Still, the floor of practically every row had been scattered with butter popcorn or melted m&m’s, shiny chocolate wrappers left crinkled in the recliners like the employees were supposed to take them home as gifts. Wonwoo put his hands on the back of his head, examining the disastrous rows.

You sensed he was feeling rather lucky about not being scheduled that night. Jun forced himself from the recliner and picked up his cup of fruit punch, jammed with way too many ice cubes.

If no one else was going to comment, you might as well. “That wasn’t the worst.”

“Agreed.” Wonwoo said, pushing up his glasses. “The murderer’s ploy was difficult to follow at times. I started getting confused when he left his car in the woods.”

“What?” Jun gawked. “That’s when you got confused? I didn’t even know what was happening after the first half hour.” His eyes gleamed in astonishment.

“Same.” You admitted. “I guess you’ll have to explain in the car.”

Reaching into the cupholder, you pulled out the package of strawberry tangs with nothing but a tiny amount of the powder-like sugar left inside.

“Thank you for picking up your trash,” Wonwoo sighed, taking the lead down the stairway while the credit music still played, “I’d hate to be working tonight.”

The wide corridor was completely vacant by the time you exited the theatre. Ever so slightly you could hear the galactic sound effects from the arcade machines. That buttery scent of popcorn seemed to waft no matter where you stood in the cinema. Wonwoo announced that he was going to check the concession counter to see who was on cash, but assured he would meet you and Jun at the back exit. Jun hurriedly downed his fruit punch in a large gulp before you emerged into the night.

You were confined to the small overhang by the doorway, for a hard rain was pelting against the concrete and turned the night air considerably cooler. Not one of you had checked the forecast beforehand, and you would undoubtedly get drenched straight through to the flesh in your thin long-sleeve.

“How are we going to make it to the car?” You groaned.

Pulling up his hood, Jun only laughed. “Now is a good time to be able to teleport.” He then stuck out his hand for a moment, the raindrops hitting his palm.

“Does it feel like bullets?”

“No. It feels kind of nice actually.” He remarked.

Curious, you rolled up your sleeve and extended your arm into the downpour. Jun was right, it felt satisfactory as each of the brisk droplets splashed your skin. However, you prematurely discovered the rain wasn’t so appealing when Jun suddenly shoved you from beneath the overhang.

“Hey— what the hell?!” You squealed upon the immediate repercussions, the cold water already leaking through your top while Junhui slapped his thigh, cackling.

Wanting to erase that luminous grin of his, you attempted wrestling the lanky boy into the weather, but no more than a few harmless drops skimmed his shoulder. Yet, with another brute shove, Jun stumbled, feeling the silver needles of rain pour down from the night sky and swirl at his dampening sneakers. He was laughing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you hard against his chest before you were even cognisant that an immense wetness was soaking through your every article.

You wished it had been indignance drumming in your heart rather than affection, because it was taking every single fibre of your being not to kiss him. As the droplets beaded down his skin, he was like a springtime flower caught in the morning dew, and when he carded back the wet, black hairs plastered to his forehead, you thought it was possible to fall into him and never feel that concrete scrape your knees. Gently, his hand touched the small of your wet back, his breaths deepening.

He urged you in tighter as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting the rain.

You were shivering, frigid, though your blood was far too warm to let yourself take note. Instead, you moved your head closer, closer, Jun’s cold palm cupping your cheek and your eyes fluttering shut and your soft mouths just brushing together— until Wonwoo appeared from inside.

Instantly, you two pushed away from each other. With his eyes widening, Wonwoo stuttered.

“I-I’m… I’m going to pretend as best I can that something weird didn’t almost happen.” He stated, swallowing thickly. “Just… Why did you two have to get soaked? You’re sitting in my car, y’know!”

At last, you felt that icy shiver trickle down your spine.

“S-Sorry.” You hummed, teeth chattering.

“I guess it’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed, “I have some towels under the passenger’s seat.”

Not long after returning to the apartment, Wonwoo gathered his laptop and slipped into his pyjamas. He proceeded to flop onto the couch to edit his research paper, though it didn’t take much for his eyelids to start weighing down, his dense paragraphs blurring together on the screen. More often than not you would take advantage of Wonwoo’s midnight crashes in the living room.

After exchanging your damp, terribly cold clothes for a warm t-shirt and sweatpants, you found yourself cozied beneath Jun’s comforter for the umpteenth night. The boy’s head rested against the crook of your neck, where his slow breaths were cool to your skin, though they occasionally became heavier when your fingertips stroked at his smooth hair. He was much like a kitten who loved a thorough scratch behind the ears. You swore that he purred whenever you rubbed the right spot.

Holding out his phone, he’d been finishing an episode of his drama before bed. You tucked some of the black locks behind his ear, noting how much it’d grown over the months. Then your gaze wandered over every detail that shaped his face, as though he were a textured oil painting.

His eyes were always glimmering, seemingly innocent and curious, yet you knew just how much that earthly shade could darken when he fell into his professions. When Jun acted on stage, his gaze lost its untainted nature. It moulded into the role of the sinister characters he preferred playing. When he danced in blazing lights, those eyes were sharp enough to consume, to cut, almost like a razorblade.

But then you studied his lips, his heart-shaped cupid’s bow, the small constellation of moles that dotted his skin like kisses from past soulmates. You thought back to the mist and the rain, his hand resting against the small of your back, how close you were to tasting the flavourful, fruity mix of his drink. In fact, you wondered why you didn’t just kiss Junhui whenever you wanted. What was stopping you, in that moment, from turning his head toward you so that your lips could press to his?

Suddenly, the boy laughed at his phone screen, to which you felt the brassy reverberation erupt in his chest, his eyes glinting and his mouth stretched into a box-like smile. You pulled a few strands of hair from his forehead as he seemed to be glowing, his cheeks rosy.

Jun mewled in surprise when your fingers threaded rather tight through his black locks, feeling you tilt his head up until his gaze was burning into yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you kissed him sweet and slow.

Jun’s eyes fluttered as the pressure warmed his mouth, a small whine getting caught in his throat upon the gentle sting of your hand tugging at his tresses, his scalp tingling. His phone sunk into the bedsheets, and instead he was gripping your t-shirt, moving his head with yours as the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint, and his small whines were silky.

How on earth could you have ever shied from kissing him when it felt so relieving? Nothing else held any significance to you apart from making his pretty lips shine.

However, you needed to catch your breath. Releasing the firm grasp on his hair, you detached your mouth from his, your chest rising and falling in great lengths. The boy’s eyes couldn’t be more glazed, his lips shimmering, flushed garnet and slightly swollen. Neither of you uttered a word. The blankets fell from Jun’s shoulders as he straddled your waist eagerly. Again, his mouth slotted with yours, and your hands slid up his caramel thighs, imprinting his flesh with the curve of your fingernails.

If you kept quiet enough, then perhaps Wonwoo would remain asleep until morning.

Standing amongst the crowd in the cramped performance hall, it was inevitable that you would get bumped around like a tiny, flying pinball. After rutting into Wonwoo’s shoulder for the third time, he seemed dauntingly close to losing his indolence and snapping, though he realized it wasn’t your fault that others were pushing toward the front of the stage and bit his tongue.  

It became tradition for Soonyoung and his students to rent the downtown performance hall and host a fundraiser. The event typically lasted a few hours, with a few short interludes where the dancers would retreat backstage to catch their breath. Being Jun’s roommate, you and Wonwoo were always granted access into the small dressing room, and though you never admitted it, you loved experiencing that small flash of pride whenever the moonstruck audience watched you slip away.

The next interlude was closing in. Despite the different dancers on stage, you really, truthfully, only watched Jun. Each time he captured the centre position, you couldn’t help but cup your hands around your mouth, being one of the first to cheer overtop the deafening music as he moved so fluidly, with poise. He was a completely different person when he performed. Somehow, his tender-hearted nature would peel back and he’d emerge a domineering beacon.

As soon as the stage ended, an uproar rippled from the audience and resonated deep in your ears, to which you couldn’t help but slightly bury your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder to muffle the cacophony. Nonetheless, you were clapping, smiling, staring fondly as Jun grabbed his collar and fluffed it out, welcoming a slight gust of humid air. His skin was dewy with sweat, and yet he glowed beautifully, even when he was breathing so heavily through his nose.

Soonyoung was speaking into his microphone, but you missed half his speech, and before you knew it you were being dragged by Wonwoo through the crowd toward the backstage entrance. The room was at least big enough to accommodate the dancers. Jun was in the corner, gulping down his water.

“Only three more songs,” Wonwoo smiled, “you guys really stepped the level up this year.”

It took a moment before Jun replied, the column of his neck glittering as he completely crushed the plastic bottle in his hands.

“Yeah,” he burst out, “I’m freaking dying.”

“It’s for a good cause at least.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring how you stepped on his foot.

After Jun rolled his eyes, he was staring at you.

The air grew much too thick, and you had to clear your throat. “S-Seriously, you’ve improved so much. I can’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” Jun replied, scratching his nape, “it’s nothing special, really.”

“Uh? Nothing special?” Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t Soonyoung say you’re one of the best in the class?”

When Jun innocently flitted his gaze toward a distant spot and pressed his lips together, Wonwoo merely huffed, announcing he was going to the lobby for a drink of water. You watched him wind between the busy dancers, either wiping down their sweat or fanning themselves, until he disappeared out the door. When you faced Jun again, you looped your fingers through the satin collar of his stage outfit and kissed him quickly, knowing everyone was too occupied to take note.

He squeaked, “what happened to being careful?”

“This is your fault.” You eagerly pinned it on him. “Try being less hot.”

“That’s horrible advice. And also not possible. Which makes it worse than horrible.”

You weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to feel his mouth again or whack the side of his head with his deflated water bottle. Opting for latter, you stole another kiss, though you tensed in surprise when Jun wrapped his arm around your waist to secure your body firm against his. Hastily, you pushed at his toned stomach, your heart drilling manically as you looked over your shoulder toward the dancers. It didn’t appear as though anyone had seen and you breathed out in relief.

Suddenly, Soonyoung poked his head through the doorway.

“Ten minutes!” He shouted before disappearing.

Jun was staring at you with the most ingenious twinkle.

“That was your fault.” He purred, tapping your thigh with his water bottle. “Try being less hot.”

You did feel a small sliver of guilt. After all, Wonwoo had been waiting back at the apartment for approximately an hour, twiddling his thumbs, wondering why you and Jun required so much goddamn time just to buy some hot fudge sundaes. The molten taste of the chocolate, the vanilla ice cream, cold and sweet, was completely stolen from your lips by the boy whose lap you were occupying. Wonwoo’s sundae sat on the dashboard, dripping slowly beneath the evening sunlight.

And yet, that infinitesimal sliver was plucked straight out when Jun latched onto a sensitive patch of your neck, softly digging in his teeth and swirling his tongue. Your fingers sheathed through the black hair and pulled up at the roots, knowing how much pleasure he took from the dull sting. Button by button, Jun started to simultaneously open your shirt, to which you questioned if this was really happening, if you were really going to sort of out the complications of intercourse in his car.

The device abandoned in the passenger’s seat buzzed. You already knew the name to the text. As Jun kissed his way down to your collarbone, licking and suckling, you reached for your phone, feeling it buzz again with another impatient text. The guilt from earlier began to resurface.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] This is suspicious now. WHERE ARE YOU? >:(

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] Actually screw that. WHERE IS MY HOT FUDGE SUNDAE?

The screen blipped with yet another message.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] I know you’re reading these… Answer me or I won’t feed Princess Pebble!!

“J-Jun,” you piped up, hearing his low, husky mumble while he continued to mark your collarbone, “I think we need to go home now.”

The boy splayed a few more open-mouthed kisses against the skin before peeking up at you, his eyes wide and glimmering, lips flushed a deep magenta. With half the buttons of your shirt hanging open and your heart blazing, you had to snip the venereal longing in its bud.

“What’s wrong?” Jun hummed, pushing his fingers through the loops on your jeans. “Who’s texting?”

“Wonwoo. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, and his sundae is gonna be a puddle at this rate.”

He blinked a bit cluelessly, though still in musing. “There’s no way to be quick about this, is there?”

Rebuttoning your shirt, you shook your head and laughed. “Let’s wait before we ruin the car. I’m sure there’ll be a better time in the future.”

Jun nodded in agreement and relaxed back into the seat, a ray of sunshine that bled golden slanting through the windshield. Somehow, Wonwoo’s sundae wasn’t a complete pool sitting in the plastic cup, but that didn’t negate the fact he was still going to start his theory on responsibility and trust the moment you stepped onto the welcome mat. As you finished clasping the last buttons, something had caught Jun’s eye out the window, for he immediately panicked and tightly gripped your waist.

“Oh my god, g-get off my lap,” he grunted, to which your head bumped against the ceiling during the hurried shuffle and your knee whacked the gearstick.

“Ow! Okay, I’m going! Jeez, could you not give me a warning?”

“No,” Jun remarked, looking quickly to the rear-view mirror to straighten out his hair, “it’s Jeonghan and Soonyoung. They just came out of the store.”

When you glanced out Jun’s window, you noted the duo making their way across the parking lot, some plastic bags filled with groceries hanging from Jeonghan’s hand while Soonyoung appeared to be texting someone. To both your dismay, Soonyoung immediately recognized Jun’s car. You watched as the blonde bumped Jeonghan’s shoulder, how they took a slight detour on their way over.

“We have to talk to them?” You whined. “Are you kidding? Lock your window.”

Jun’s brow pinched together. “How is that going to help? They already saw us so just relax.”

“You’re telling me to relax? You practically threw me off your la—”

“Shht,” Jun snapped as the two boys drew nearer, “just shhhhht okay?” And with an incredibly large gulp, he plastered a happy-go-lucky smile to his mouth and let the window slide open.

“Jun?” Soonyoung called, leaning down slightly to peer inside the vehicle. “What’re you doing out here, huh? Back from shoplifting?”

Jeonghan bent down too, grinning snidely. “You looked a little frazzled or something.”

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself. “No, I’m fine. Just – we have to leave. Wonwoo is waiting.”

“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan seemed excited. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hey, tell him I’m still appreciative for writing my World History paper on the Persian Empire.”

You knew it was best to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help your slight choke. Wonwoo had come home one day saying that one of his classmates offered him seventy-five bucks if he’d write their history paper. He wasn’t going to oblige originally, but cracked after listening to his classmate type out their introduction in the library, that it was just so bad Wonwoo felt piteous and decided to pitch in.

Gaping at Jeonghan, you exclaimed, “that was you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still dropped that class. And Wonwoo definitely thinks I’m a dumbass. But I didn’t have to do a spot of work, and now I’m getting smooth nineties in English. You just have to make up some shit and do a couple fancy indents and you’re set.”

Jeonghan paused, then leaned in a little further to look you up and down. “Y’know, I’ve never seen you before. How easily do you give out your numbe—”

“We really have to go,” Jun interrupted, already clicking the button to roll up the window, “see you at practice, Soonyoung. Bye Jeonghan!”

The two boys didn’t really have any other option apart from stepping back, allowing Jun to exit the parking space and turn onto the road. Not that it would help much, you turned on the air conditioning until it felt like the wind was pure ice, hoping that you’d be able to preserve Wonwoo’s melting fudge sundae. You made sure to text him on your whereabouts, that you were heading home, and churned up a white lie about how you ran into Jun’s friends who held a persistent conversation.

It wasn’t entirely false. And yet, Wonwoo still managed to see through it.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Just say you were making out.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Btw, I fed Princess Pebble.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: I’m not a sinner. Unlike you guys.

Later that evening, after delivering Wonwoo his melted cup of chocolate ice cream, after Jun quickly threw some extra clothes into his backpack and ran to his late-night dance practice, you were standing at the fish tank with some new plants you bought for your guppy. As the bright lights of the tank reflected across your face, there was a strange feeling inside you. It seemed like turbulence, confusion, your heart experiencing one sentiment but your brain thinking another.

You hadn’t realized you were absently standing there until Wonwoo came into the dark living room, holding a crumpled tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush. Watching the pink fish swim in between her new seaweed arrangement, he asked you if there was an extra tube stored in your bedroom.

“Don’t think so. Text Jun and ask him to stop at the store when his practice ends.”

“I’ll do that…” Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, you know I already fed Princess Pebble?”

He accompanied you at the tank. For some reason, you refused to look at Wonwoo. You felt unusually vulnerable, like a fragile shell that could be cracked open even by the gentlest hands, and the more you thought into your emotions, the harder your heart started pounding.

“I-I know,” you smiled weakly, “but I got her some new plants today. I just put them in.”

Wonwoo could always tell when something was off-kilter. You almost hated how sharp his senses were, that he was able to detect with such accuracy how you were being eaten up inside. Softly, he touched your shoulder, urged you to turn toward him so he could see the honest colour in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, pushing up the bridge of his glasses.

You felt terrified, but there was no sense in pretending.

“How do I tell Jun that I’m in love with him? That I don’t want us to be a secret anymore?”

It was a weighted question, and you knew that. But it was also the truth. As much as it could be invigorating to maintain a secret relationship, you were beginning to feel the brittle side effects that came with keeping such love behind closed doors. You didn’t want Jun to push you from his lap just because his friends might’ve seen you, nor did you want to keep an eye out for whether or not you should knock his hand off your thigh in public. The secrecy had been fun, but it wasn’t enough.

Scratching the blue collar of his shirt, Wonwoo appeared uncertain.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just think you shouldn’t repress this. You need to be upfront.”

“How?” It sounded like a desperate plead. “I don’t know how, Wonwoo.”

“Stop overthinking it,” the boy advised, grabbing onto your shoulders and giving your frame a small, grounding shake, “you know Jun. You know he isn’t a rash person. You know if you tell him he’ll hear every word of it. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re all he thinks about.”

Wonwoo  brushed at the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t hurt yourself like this, okay? The next time you’re alone, just say how you feel. I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re hypothesizing.”

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Overthinking was a poison to you. It shouldn’t be that difficult to be honest, especially when you knew how attentive Jun was, the manner in which he always adapted himself to be of a comforting presence.

“Okay,” you attempted to draw together some confidence, “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” The boy grinned, still fiddling with his empty tube of toothpaste. “It really doesn’t bother me that you guys run around together. Just… please… never do anything weird in my bed.”

The next time you were alone with Jun, it was all but a desirable circumstance. Once you came home from work and heated up some leftover dinner in the microwave, you decided to feed Princess Pebble, though your jaw unhinged as you noticed something a little unorthodox about her tank: a pink blotch floating against the surface of the water. Immediately, the tears welted hot and stinging against your eyes. You had to use the small net to scoop your guppy out from the water.

Remarkably, Princess Pebble had lived a long life for a fish. You remembered walking with Jun to the pet store one summer afternoon, after you two finished your last day of eleventh grade and had just escaped a brutal chemistry exam. Rather than studying beforehand, you spent ample time researching different types of fish, and would often send Jun pictures asking him to choose which one he thought was cutest. Yet, at the end of it all, you chose a guppy with the prettiest pink scales.

“Don’t most people want a puppy? A kitten? And you choose a boring fish.”

Jun had teased, sounding awkward and a bit lisped through his braces.

Somehow, Princess Pebble had managed to live a five-year lifespan. Wonwoo told you most guppies live for two years, three years if the owner takes good care. Sitting at the kitchen table, you placed her body onto a piece of paper towel, the thick tears dripping down your cheeks while your sinuses grew wet and congested. You didn’t know if it was petulant to be your age, crying over a pet fish. In fact, you didn’t even possess the heart to rise from the table and discard her body.

It wasn’t much longer until Jun returned home after his theatre class, to which you heard his key rattling in the lock. Wonwoo was scheduled for a shift at the cinema, most likely handing out overpriced popcorn and chocolate and having to reject every person who asked for his number.

“Hey,” he called, shouldering off his backpack, “Wonwoo texted me. That weird thriller we were looking at is playing next week. We should—,”

Jun paused the moment he heard your runny sniffling. He didn’t realize that your fish was sitting on the paper towel until he took a few steps closer. You felt embarrassed Jun had to see you like this. If you were crying, it had always been over something with a little more gravity, like the time you were distraught about flunking your laboratory practical, and Wonwoo couldn’t persuade you to open your bedroom door no matter how frequently he stood outside, pleading.

Plucking at the collar of your shirt, you used the fabric to clear away the tears. Without a word, Jun grabbed another chair from the dining table and pulled it next to you, scooting in close. As soon as you felt his arm drape around your shoulders, it was like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub filled with water, to which you pressed your face against his neck and sobbed harder.

“I’m so sorry.” Jun whispered, hugging you tight to his comfortable chest. “It’s okay to be upset. I know how much she meant to you.”

He drew soothing strokes down the back of your head, and he sat with you until those wet pearls ran dry with salt. You knew it wasn’t wise to keep her body out in the air, that you would have to discard her somehow, yet the thought of having to flush her away seemed too cruel. Jun wiped the soft glisten from your cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers then tracing up and down the side of your face.

“I-I don’t want to flush her.” You blubbered.

The boy shook his head. “We won’t do that. We’ll find a good way to handle it.” His thumb brushed tenderly below the fragile skin of your eye for a moment, and he seemed to be in musing.

“Wait here.” He announced, suddenly running into his bedroom.

You could hear Jun shuffling through his closet, moving around clothing hangers and pushing aside boxes still filled with some of his old belongings from homelife in Shenzhen. When he remerged into the living room, he was holding a particular tissue box, one that you hadn’t seen since twelfth grade biology. You, Jun, and Wonwoo had painted and decorated the box as part of an optional project, to see if you could grow any plants from the packets of radish and tomato seeds your teacher had.

Nothing ever grew. Wonwoo claimed there had been some green sprouts when it was his turn to look after the makeshift garden, but that his cat snuck into his room and ate them all. Jun always kept a multitude of random things that dated back to your adolescence. As awkward and bumpy as those times were, seeing the tissue box reminded you that there had been precious moments too.

“Why do you still have that?” You laughed, even if your chest was aching.

“Because that was the first time us three did something together.” Jun said, returning to his seat beside you. “It was one of the first memories I made after moving away from home.”

You fondly looked at Jun while pulling the tissue box toward you, slathered in old, chipping acrylic paint and obnoxious, starry glitter.

Licking the dry salt off your lips, you smiled. “Princess Pebble would love this.”

“It can be her shrine. When Wonwoo comes home, we can find a good place to bury it.” Jun explained. “I know I called her boring five years ago, but I didn’t mean it. I loved her too.”

In the pensive silence, you thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo, recalling his firm grip on your shoulders as he reiterated the importance of freeing your heart, of not bogging yourself down with too many untold truths. Then, you glanced at Jun. You thought about that fluttering feeling when you kissed him, when you ran your fingers through his hair, listening to his deep-chested laughter whenever he gleefully buckled over into your lap after telling one of his hit-or-miss jokes.

The boy tensed slightly as you pulled him into a hug, though he quickly came to ease and warmth. You thanked him, because it just felt like the right thing to do for his compassion.

And then you told him something else.

“I love you.”

Without missing a heartbeat, he murmured against your hair, “I love you too.”

It was late, unreasonably late, the past-midnight late where the entire world falls still like an unperturbed pond. Downtown was completely hushed. Every so often the wind picked up, though it inevitably withered away in between the buildings and emerged a pitiful whistle onto the street. And yet, despite the fact you should be tucked in bed while the moon protected the silence in her silver hands, you were pushing outside the convenience shop with Jun close behind.

He took the end of a straw into his mouth and slurped at the sweet, cherry-flavoured slushie that was beginning to empty. Immediately, he crinkled his forehead and his face contorted.

“How many times have I said not to do that?” You laughed as he passed you the slippery cup.

“I don’t know. Three?” Jun replied with a grimace. “I can really feel it. Wait, I need a moment.”

You stopped next to the traffic post at the end of the street. Jun grabbed at his hair and squeezed like it was some miraculous remedy for curing a brain freeze. Directing the straw into your mouth, you sucked up the cherry syrup and crushed ice until you felt the distant ache thrum inside your head.

“Okay…” Jun concluded, brushing the long, black fringe from his eyes, “I’m good now.”

Thrusting the drink back into his hands, you couldn’t help but huff: “you’re such a baby.”

As though to prove your point, Jun started whining. “My head is so, so cold. It’s freezing.”

“So put this up or something.” You teased, reaching around the back of his neck to pull the boy’s hood over his head. Giggling slightly, you grinned at him as he shot you a questionable glance.

The streets remained quiet, and the sky was remarkably clear, no more than a few ragged and thin clouds drifting over the stars. The last time you had been on this corner, you were licking the strawberry sugar off your fingertips while Jun crumpled his last packet of popping candy. You remembered tracing the rose tint that warmed his lips, each fibre in your muscle twitching because you just wanted to wrap a hand through his locks and kiss him like he was your last breath.

You didn’t understand how you could love one person so much. Why love often fused itself into your bloodstream more than functionality. Your heart knew how to beat, yet it stumbled whenever you gazed at him. Your lungs knew how to filter the air, yet they closed up whenever you caught his eye. Your tongue knew how to articulate, yet it tied itself in a knot the moment he’d touch you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, patting his arm, “can I ask you something?”

Jun looked away from the stars, sipping at his drink again. He nodded.

The moon probably wanted to crush your heart in her hands for how loudly it was thumping.

“What if I told you that I want people to know we’re together? What would you say?”

Despite your anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you anticipated. Maybe it was because Jun didn’t immediately sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it was most important, Jun picked his words carefully.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening and the amber in his cheeks sparked with pink, “that I want people to know how I feel about you… That I’ve always been in love with you.”

You smiled wide, like a kid who just got their braces off. Unable to contain such a rapturous energy, you stepped in close to Jun and held onto his shoulders, dotting the corners of his mouth with small kisses before you pressed your lips against his. You felt him smirk, though it seemed too devious. Jun had suddenly wrapped his arms around your lower back, pushing you in chest-to-chest. You melted as he kissed you, your fingertips ghosting along the soft hairs at his nape, the moonlight on your skin.

When you arrived back at the apartment, you could hear a few of Wonwoo’s gentle snores echo from behind the bedroom door. Just before you slipped away into your own room, Jun left a goodnight kiss to the top of your head, his hand thoughtfully squeezing your hip.

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

You finally knew what you should have said.

“Because I love you.”

✧✎ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET PRINCE!! never would i have imagined that someone who’s on the opposite side of the globe could mean so much to me ;_; mr. moon has been such a healing presence, and it’s bc of him that i have found so much happiness these past five years! whenever i see him smiling and laughing and have good ol times just being himself, all my worrisome thoughts somehow fade away and i feel only joy!! 

anyways, i don’t want to ramble for too long (i could really fill a page with my cloying sentiments r.i.p) but i hope this was a wholesome fic!! the stars aligned and for once i was able to write a fic for a member’s birthday :_) 

[vintagegoddess12]

5 Times Agatha Pushed the Limits and the 1 She Shouldn’t Have (5)

A/N: We’re nearing the endgame now. Last 1 chapter for this prequel left afjhjksghklsjh

Relationship: Young!Agatha Harkness x Reader

First Time

Second Time

Third Time

Fourth Time

That One Time (Part 6)

Fifth  Time

You grew up with your mother telling you, “always follow the rules, dear.”

She says it will lead you to do good things and the right things. And you did follow most, if not all, of it. You go home before the curfew. You practice spells appropriate for your age and station. You stay away from bad people and bad magic. Rules were your guide for everything. Then there’s Agatha .

She’s the kind of person who believes rules should be challenged, pushed to their limit. She wants knowledge to be available to everyone. She’s headstrong. She’s fierce. She’s strategic. Intelligent. Funny. Adventurous. She’s um- she’s Agatha. And she makes you want to break rules for her - with her - it doesn’t really matter.

There’s a certain spark in her eyes when she gets away with breaking rules. The blues in her eyes get lighter, like the cerulean sky. The first time you saw it you knew that you wanted to see it again. So you allowed her to be naughty at times just so you can see it again. And again. And again. But you haven’t seen those eyes for a long time. Not since your announcement in the Forbidden Forest.

You stare at the crystallized pool of water in your chambers. Your reflection is an image of a bride. Innocent and pure. You took in the fabric and stitches holding the dress together. This should be the happiest day of your life. Your wedding day. You looked at your face. A frown is present where a smile should be. You tried to move your lips and make a smile, which looks more of a grimace.

Something’s wrong about all of this.

The thought ran in your head but you can’t determine why. A Mother marries. That’s the rule. And your groom, Eli, was a good guy. A powerful wizard who can make powerful offspring. You took a deep breath and told yourself everything is fine.

You heard a knock on your door and you told them to come in. An all-too-familiar figure walked in, basket in her hand. Suddenly, you feel a smile forming on your face. Unable to hide the excitement of seeing her.

Agatha walked in, expecting you to be surrounded by Maidens gushing about your special day. Instead, she sees you standing in the middle of the room in your wedding dress. Ethereal as a bride. She views your lips and your smile, silently making her melt.

She didn’t know what to tell you after your announcement. The idea of you walking down the aisle and promising forever to someone else is so foreign to her. She never imagined you being that close to someone else that isn’t her. Forever is a long time, after all. She always thought that you and she would be an inseparable pair.

“Agatha,” her name sounds so sweet in your voice. She continues walking until she reaches the table. She sets down the basket she’s holding before speaking.

“I wanted to see you before you…” the Maiden trailed off but you knew what she was meaning. “So, I brought you this.”

“A basket of apples?” You grabbed a ripe one, putting all your attention to it.

“Yes,” Agatha trained her gaze on you, wanting to remember everything about you. “It’s from that tree when we were kids.”

You looked up to her before replying, “I remember.” You let out a small chuckle as you put the ripe red fruit back in its basket. The memory of good, old times made your eyes water just a little. You were happy back then. Happy with her

Silence enveloped the room, neither witch wanted to break their stares nor the tension. Agatha glanced at your eyes then your lips. You tried to keep your breathing under control, ignoring the warm feeling spreading all over your chest. The childhood friends wished this moment could stretch out until forever ends.  

Agatha bit her lip before breaking the silence, “do you need any help?” You avert your eyes and face your boudoir.

“I uhm, need to put on the necklace so they can remove it during the ceremony,” you reached for it as you continue, “can you help me put it on?” Agatha offered a weak smile before getting the necklace from your hands. Her fingers lingered in your palm, which sent shivers down your spine.

You move your hair aside as your friend places the necklace. You can see the concentration in her face from the crystallized water. The scenery in front of you felt so right. You and her, with no space in between. Her breaths hot against your nape. Fingers lingering against your skin.

Once again, your eyes locked in your reflection in the water. Everything was still, except for the frantic beating of your heart. Agatha’s hands travel down to the ribbons in your dress. “Do you want to marry him?”

You reached inside yourself, trying to find the right response, “I don’t know how to answer that,” almost a whisper. A secret shared only by the two of you. Her hands now untying the ribbons of your dress, she pulls herself closer to you.

“Do you want me to stop? ” she whispers in your ear before she starts nibbling it. The shock was immediately replaced by pleasure. You close your eyes and drown in all the sensations she’s causing you. Not hearing an answer, she continues planting soft kisses in your nape. You bit your lip, purely feeling ecstasy when she made you face her.

In a swift motion, Agatha had you pinned against the boudoir. One hand on your hip and the other in your hair, she angled your head and planted a chaste kiss on your lips.

Heaven. This is what it must feel like.

Chaste is not enough for you, neither for her. So you pulled her closer and met her lips once more.

Hungrier.  

Harder .

Heaven.

You let out a moan that reverberated against Agatha’s spine, heat pooling down in her core. She continued removing the strings of your corset as she gave attention to your neck and any exposed skin. Wet, sloppy kisses covered your chest but you don’t care. No rules say you can’t kiss the witch you’re completely enamored with.

You feel yourself being lifted up in your boudoir, your legs wrapping around Agatha. Her hands trailing up your thighs, painfully slow. She brought her lips back to meet yours, not minding suppressing the noises you were making.

You opened your eyes to appreciate the witch in front of you when you saw the one person you shouldn’t be seeing in times like this. Evanora . She instantly transported out of the room when you saw her. Your breath hitched and you feel like cold water was dumped all over you.

“Wait,” you pushed Agatha off. “We can’t do this.”

You removed yourself under her, to give some sense of distance. Agatha’s baby blues looked at you, confusion etched in her face.

Agatha looked at you. Dress out in place. Flushed cheeks. Markings all over your chest. She can’t help but feel proud. She did that. She had that effect on you. That’s why she can’t understand why you would stop all of it.

“We can’t do this,” she heard you say, sounding more of a question rather than a statement. “I have to marry him.” She frowned at that remark, refusing to accept that there is no other choice. “Once you ascend as a Mother,” you took a breath before you continued, “you will have to marry too.”

She let the information settle in her brain before reacting. She tried to see herself as a Mother. Walking down the aisle and marrying. Suddenly, the insides of her mouth taste sour. For the first time in Agatha’s life, she knew what she wanted. She wanted none of those. “That’s not what I want.”

“Well then, what do you want?” You asked.

Without missing a beat she replied, “you.” Agatha watched as every feature on your face went soft. She thought this is it. The moment you say you feel the same thing about her. “I want the necklaces and rings. I want forever.” She lets out all in one breath because subtlety is not a characteristic she knows. Not yet. “I want all of those with you.”

Tears threaten to fall in [y/n]’s face as she replies, “we can’t.” The Maiden can hear her own heart break with those two words. They were supposed to be in sync. Together.

Agatha Harkness is a lot of things, good and bad. The headstrong can be hot-headed. The fierce can be impatient. The strategic can be sharp-tongued.

“We can,” she says sharply, “but you just won’t.”

You tried to fix yourself when you felt her walking out. Something about this scene makes it feel like it’s final.

“Why does this feel like farewell?” You asked in between tears. She faces you again, her face unreadable even to you. “Because it is.”

You stepped towards her. Close but not enough to reach for her. “It doesn’t have to be,” you try to reason - to hold on to whatever is left between the two of you, “I’m not leaving you.”

“You are!” You flinched at the sudden rise of her voice. “And There’s no reason for me to stay here.”

You took one more step closer. “Am I not,” your words breaking just as your heart is, “reason enough?”

Agatha looked at you one last time, one new feature showing on her face. Stone-cold. You whispered please, over and over again. Trying to bring her back to your side. But she just looked...and left.

Once alone, you allowed yourself to feel every emotion you’ve been trying to suppress. The realization that you don’t love your groom. The tingling sensations Agatha’s finger brought you. The fear that you already lost her - way before you knew exactly what you felt for her. The uncertainty of what all of this could do in your future. The prophecy .

You wiped the tears and fixed yourself, used your sapphire blue magic to tighten the ribbons, and touch up the rouge. You told yourself everything is fine; that rules are rules, and nothing can break your heart anymore.

Not realizing that the night has barely begun

[errorpeachy]

☾ Will He?☽ 《Bakugo and Izuku X Reader》 Pt.2

Song: Will he - Joji

Hey bitches, take some more angst since the first part did tremendously well like holy shit-

I got knots all up in my chest.

You had been staying at Izuku’s house for the past week, and your days had consisted of crying, sleeping, working, and crying some more. Sometimes, Izuku managed to make you laugh, but for the most part, you had been stuck in a depressive state. Explaining to your receptionist what was going on, she was in the process of helping you issue a public statement saying you were no longer with the number two hero.

It was difficult to accept the fact that the Bakugo you once knew wasn’t the same Bakugo anymore. You two had been together for five years, so it was only understandable that you were hurting, but there were so many other things you were feeling. You felt anger at the fact he thought you were stupid enough to allow him to get away with it. You felt scared of the public and how they’d react, as well as the press. You felt so much disgust with yourself for allowing him to kiss you while being suspicious of another woman. Most of all, however, you were disappointed. Not in him, but yourself. You had played up this act, this lie that he had continued for two months, because you were too scared of the truth. You were scared of change, because he was all you ever knew. That wasn’t who you were.

Just know, I’m trying my best

You’d been recovering since the breakup, Izuku by your side. Slowly, he helped you back onto your feet, not financially, but emotionally. You were grateful every day for what he had done for you. He helped you the night you released your official statement, hugging you close as you cried into his chest. He took you out with your friends so you’d feel a little better, and he tried his best to do little things for you. Even though he was the number 1 hero, he still managed to remember things like your favorite candy or what kind of conditioner you preferred. It shocked you, to be honest. Bakugo never seemed to remember that kind of stuff.

Slowly, you went back to normal. A month passed since your breakup, and you were no longer holing yourself up in Izuku’s guest bedroom. You started looking for an apartment, and slowly, you felt yourself getting better. You were going to miss living with Izuku, but you were searching for something close by so you could still visit him whenever you wanted.

Currently, you were waiting for Izuku to meet up with you at your favorite café. He was going to help you pick an apartment complex today, and you were excited to see him as he had been working nonstop all week.

It had been fun, living with Izuku. You enjoyed being able to crack jokes while he cooked dinner and share a bowl of popcorn while watching mean girls, his unruly hair pushed back by a headband while he had a face mask on. It was funny to see him cranky in the morning, teasing him as you handed him his morning coffee. During the month, you had felt feelings bubble up in your chest for the broccoli-headed boy. You promptly shut those thoughts down. That was Bakugo’s childhood friend, and you were not about to get dragged into a love triangle, if you could call it that.

But when you look

You raised your head as you heard the familiar chime of the café’s entrance bell. Smiling, you got up to hug Izuku and pushed your computer aside. “Hey Y/N!” He said, smiling as he patted your head. You sat down, pulling you computer to your body. “Let’s get started!”.

When you laugh

When you smile

I’ll bring you back

“And then the guy had the audacity to say he didn’t steal anything when I had watched him!” Izuku finished, his story making you cry laughing. You two had finished apartment hunting, your computer closed off to the side as you enjoyed your friend’s company. A smile stayed on your face as you sipped you drink. What you weren’t aware of, was the gaze of a certain ash-blonde male.

He scoffed, his eyes watching you as you gently leaned your head against your hand. You looked at Izuku the same way you looked at him in high school. What was so great about him anyways? He didn’t even have his own quirk. He was nobody compared to...

He watched as you smiled at Izuku with so much love, so much joy. It hurt.

And now I’m sad

And I’m a mess

He knew it was his fault. He shouldn’t have done what he did. Sleeping around with his sidekick was the last thing he thought he was going to do. He knew he could just as easily go to you to get what he want, yet he didn’t. Was he bored? No, he wasn’t- he just thought he was hot shit. He thought that because he had reached number 2 status and you were content with where you were in life that you failed to keep up with him. He thought you went back on your promise.

But you hadn’t.

And now we high

That’s why I left

He stood up, paying for his food as he walked out. You blinked as you saw someone leaving, before making eye contact with him. Katsuki.

You immediately looked at Izuku, your muscles tensing up. “He’s here.” You muttered. He sighed, a mix of sympathy and annoyance mixed on his face. “I don’t know why he’s following you. You aren’t going to go back to him... are you?” He asked, looking at you. Pausing, you sighed. “It’s complicated.” You muttered, folding your hands. “I don’t want to right now, bu-“

“Then dont.” He said. You looked at him. “What?” “Don’t go back. Actually, I have a better idea.” He said, turning away as his cheeks flushed pink. You tilted your head. “What are you talking about, Izu?” You asked.

He looked at you, a small smile on his face. “What would you say if I suggested going on a date?” He asked. You blinked, eyes going wide. “A-a what?” You asked. He immediately waved his hands, getting flustered as he tried to backtrack. “Y-you don’t have to! It hasn’t been very long and I know you’re still probably recovering- oh my god why did I suggest this-“ he said, shooting off into a ramble as you smiled. Grabbing his hand, he stopped to look at you.

“I’d like that, Izuku.”

Humming, you added the finishing touches to your outfit as you combed out your hair. Your date plans were originally to go to a hero museum, however the hero commission decided to schedule a last-minute dinner party to congratulate Izuku on his ranking. You decided to go as his plus-one, and you were currently getting ready to leave.

“Y/N, are you almost- woah...” he said, question falling short as he stared at you. You laughed, getting up and grabbing his keys. “Yeah, let’s go.” You said, handing them to him. He put them in his pocket before holding your face gently. “You look amazing.” He said, a smile gracing his delicate features as you blushed. “Thanks- um... let’s go.” You said, gently moving his hands off so he wouldn’t see how embarrassed you were. He laughed, pulling his keys out and following you.

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips?

You knew he was going to be there. It was only inevitable. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was bringing her. Akemi Futara. You felt your skin crawl as she stared at you, like she had won a prize and was showing it off to the losing player. It made you sick, thinking of how you kissed him when he had gotten home after fucking her, and she knew that.

Sighing, you leaned into Izuku’s side, causing him to glance at you before giving you a sympathetic look. “I know, I know. If you want, I-I can ask for them to lea-“ “I’m fine. I know he’s your friend. She’s just annoying.” you muttered, closing your eyes. The people that kept coming up to interact with you and Izuku were giving you a headache. You could feel Bakugo’s stare on you, causing you to feel uncomfortable. He eyed you like you were still his.

“Izuku, kiss me please.” You said, causing him to turn to you sharply. A blush exploded across his face, and his eyes went wide. “I-I- whAt?” He stuttered, causing you to sigh. “Bakugo won’t take the hint. He’s gonna try to talk to me.” You muttered. “I just need to make him understand that I’ve moved on, so kiss me. You’re a grown man, so it’s not hard.” You teased. He gulped. Leaning down, he gave you a quick peck on the cheek. You huffed. “What the hell-“ “I don’t think we should kiss out of spite. I... I want it to be special, if we do...” he muttered shyly. You paused before smiling at him. “Izu, you’re adorable.” you giggled.

Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips?

Bakugo watched as you had fun, dancing your heart out with your friends. He felt envy as he watched Izuku struggle to groove with you. He watched as you took his hands and tried your best to teach him, slowly helping him understand. To say he was mad was an understatement. No, he was angry- pissed even. You dumped him and now you’re going after the guy he’s known since childhood? How low of a blow could you deal?

Jealousy was eating away at his core. He felt the same jealousy as he watched Izuku get everything he had wanted in life. Why couldn’t he have that? Why did it need to be him? As he grew in ranks, he distanced himself from you to work better, and you were okay with that. But he wanted more. He wanted to climb and climb and go higher and higher, but you had been content right where you were. You promised him you’d keep up with his pace, but as you brought up the thoughts you had of marriage, he realized that you wanted him to settle down with you.

And he didn’t want that.

Will your lover caress you the way that I did?

He realized as Izuku gently held your hands that he was wrong about everything. He should have just settled down. You were all he wanted in someone, and yet somehow, he wanted more. He was so greedy that he failed to see that what he had was the best he could get. He never gave you what you needed, yet he thought that he needed more.

Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit?

He watched you go over to the bar and get a drink of water, chest heaving from how much dancing you had done. Getting up, he looked over to where Akemi was socializing before going over to you.

You saw him, cringing as you immediately turned your back to him. You didn’t want to deal with this tonight. It was supposed to be a night for you and Izuku, with no problems in the way. You watched as he took a seat next to you at the bar, ordering a drink before turning to you.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re okay

“How are you?” He asked quietly, causing you to scoff. How were you? Fucking great, right now, but a month ago you were a damn wreck. Rolling your eyes, you looked down at your drink. “Im great. I can tell you are too, with that Akemi girl.” You said, matter of fact. He paused before nodding, despite it being far from the truth.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re all safe

“He hasn’t hurt you, has he?” He asked. You turned to him. “If he did, I wouldn’t be here. Frankly, the only person in this room that’s hurt me is you.” You said, before turning away from him. “Please leave me alone, Katsuki. I don’t want to talk to you.” You muttered. He went quiet, his eyes staring into your back without faltering. After a bit, he closed his eyes and got up, moving away from you as he went to go talk to his friends. You sighed before feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m proud of you.” Izuku said softly, gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. You smiled. You were proud of yourself too.

Will he play you those songs just the way that I did?

Izuku fumbled as he grabbed a guitar pick, sitting crossed-legged across from you on your bed. He had picked up learning how to play in his free time, and he wanted to show you what he knew.

Rain hit the windows quietly as he started to play you your favorite song, causing you to smile. He was so thoughtful, and he had shown you as much throughout the month you and him had spent dating.

Your memories with Bakugo were forever burned into your brain, but that was in the past. You had Izuku now. And that’s all you needed.

He started to sing quietly, smiling as you joined in. You watched his calloused hand stroke the guitar with such care. It made your heart flutter, how he was so built yet so gentle.

You heard a knock at your apartment door, causing you to go quiet as you looked at him. “Did you invite Uraraka over?” He asked curiously. You shook your head, watching as he set his guitar aside on the bed carefully. “I’ll get it. He muttered, moving to get up, but you stopped him. “It’s fine, I got it. Just relax.” You said, kissing his cheek before getting up and making your way to the door. Unlocking it, you pulled it open.

“Y/N.” Bakugo said, ruby eyes meeting yours. You blinked. What the hell was he doing here? It was raining, for Christ’s sake!

You frowned. “What is it, Bakugo.” You said, using his name formally. He cringed. It was like you never knew him. “I need to talk to you. Please, let me in.” He said. You had never seen him so desperate.

Will he play you so strong just the way that I did?

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Whatever you need to tell me better be short and sweet.” You said, opening the door as he stepped inside. You stopped him before he sat down on your couch. “You can stand.” You said coldly.

Clearing his throat, he looked you in the eyes.

“I want you back Y/N.”.

Will he treat you like shit just the way that I did?

You felt yourself go numb as he started to apologize in his stereotypical way. “I was an asshole, and I’m sorry.” He said. You could hear your ears ringing as you stared at him. Who the hell did he think he was?

“It took you two months to work past your pride and apologize? Are you kidding me?” You said angrily, causing him to huff. “I never apologize for anything, so this just shows how much I care.” “No, it shows how much of a fucking asshole you are!”

Cause I don’t blame you.

Growling, he balled his hands up as he started to shout back. “Why can’t you ever just listen to me?” He said. You laughed. “You don’t deserve that after you cheated on me and then apologized two months later after I had already moved on!” You shouted. You heard Izuku come down the hallway, seeing Bakugo argue with you. He gave him a look he rarely gave anyone. It was one of anger.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re okay

“Get out.” He said coldly. Bakugo turned to him, anger evident in his eyes. “What the hell did you just say to me, Deku?” He sneered, causing you to glare at him. “I said get out. You’ve overstayed your welcome with my partner.” He responded. You watched as the realization hit Bakugo like a brick. He lost.

You finally knew you were worth more than him.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re all safe.

You watched as he left quietly, shutting the door behind him. Izuku was still tense from the confrontation, and you went over to him. Touching his face gently, you gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. He turned red, immediately relaxing. “What was that for?” He asked. You smiled. “It was for defending me. Thank you for everything, Izuku.” You said softly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s my pleasure.” He said, kissing your temple.

You will always have memories of Bakugo.

But now, you had Izuku.

[chimchimsauce]

XS (V - Honesty)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Yoonji doesn't say anything as she helps YN out of her dress and YN isn't sure if she feels relieved or even more terrified. On one hand, she's grateful for the silence, not wanting to be bombarded after such a stressful encounter. But on the other hand . . . Yoonji doesn't say anything to imply that things will get better or that Taehyung - the man who is to become her husband in just a few short hours - isn't as violent and terrible as he seems.

"Yoonji," YN begins as the other woman begins to run a tub of warm water in the beautiful bathroom, "Can you be honest with me?"

Yoonji doesn't turn away immediately, instead finishing her task. When she turns to YN, her face is blank.

"Honest about what?" she asks, helping YN undress entirely.

YN wants to be embarrassed but she doesn't have the energy to.

"What is my life going to be like?" she asks, wincing as she steps into the bathwater.

Her stomach hurts like crazy and she will absolutely have an ugly bruise in a few days.

Yoonji scoops a pitcher into the milky water, pouring it over YN's head. YN coughs, choking on the unexpected water.

"Do what he says and you'll be fine," Yoonji says, unbothered by YN's coughing, "As long as you do what's expected of you, he won't hurt you . . . probably."

Yoonji dumps water over YN's head again and the woman leans forward, trying to get away from Yoonji's grasp.

"Stop moving," Yoonji says, poring some product into her hands and raking it through YN's hair.

YN wipes her face, water clinging to her eyelashes. She can't help but think that Yoonji is upset at her for some reason. Her stomach twists uncomfortably. YN had been hoping that in the very least she'd have someone who didn't terrify her to keep her company but it seems like that won't be the case.

YN sniffs, lungs hurting from all the coughing. Her eyes tear up and she can't tell if it's from pain or emotional distress. She doesn't ask any more questions as Yoonji scrubs her down with brown sugar and massages oils and cocoa butter into her skin. Yoonji dresses her in a silky nightgown and leaves her alone, closing the door with a simple "Good luck."

YN sneaks out of the bed and tries the door but to no one's surprise, it's locked. Sighing, YN crawls back into bed, grabbing one of the down pillows and cuddling it close to her. She wonders how her parents are doing. Are they okay? Were they able to clean the kitchen? Have they buried the family dog yet?

But most importantly, did Taehyung keep his word? Are they still alive?

YN's grip on the pillow tightens. She feels no peace, no ability to fall asleep. All she can do is stare at the ceiling, the hours passing by in the blink of an eye and no time at all.

Before she's ready, the lock on YN's door clicks and swings open, and a procession of women in the same simple uniform Yoonji wears file in.

"Good morning, Madam," one of the ladies says, "Master Taehyung has sent us to prepare you for your wedding."

YN just blinks at them, sighing. When it's clear that YN isn't going to move on her own, one of the other ladies moves to her bedside and pulls the cover off of her frame. Someone brings a silken robe and glides it over her skin, tying it tightly around her waist.

YN winces as the silk digs into her sore spot but no one notices. They all crowd around her, bringing her into the massive closet and sitting her down in from of a giant vanity. They buzz around her like worker bees, discussing lipstick colors and hairstyles with fervor. YN doesn't pay them any attention, doing to her mental happy place.

In her head, she's back at university, studying for her degree and blissfully unaware of just how cruel the world can be.

The women move her face side to side as they pluck and wax and moisturize before applying what feels like a pound of makeup to her face. A few of them work on a manicure and pedicure while one picks out some lacy lingerie.

"Oh, Master Taehyung picked a beautiful one," the main lady says.

"You're so lucky, Madam," a different one says, "Master Taehyung is so handsome. Money, power, and good looks? What more could a girl want?"

She is dusting eyeshadow over YN's eyelids with a featherlight touch. It would be relaxing if YN wasn't about to marry a psychopath.

"Would you like to take my place then?" YN says before she can stop herself.

Bitterness overflows as they talk about YN's upcoming marriage as if she's a princess who's fallen in love with a charming prince.

The women fall quiet and an awkward silence blankets the room. YN opens her eyes and looks into the mirror, locking eyes with a very unamused Taehyung. He's hovering in the doorframe with a deadly look on his face. He stalks deeper into the room and places a hand on YN's shoulder, his expression brightening up as he looks at his workers.

"I love YN's sense of humor," he says, chuckling, "Isn't she so funny?"

Everyone joins in with superficial laughter but YN is petrified with Taehyung's hand on her. He doesn't squeeze or dig his nails into her as she expects but she doesn't trust him whatsoever.

"Would you mind leaving me alone with my fiancee for a few moments?" Taehyung says, "I want to say a few words to her before the wedding."

Despite the pleading look in her eyes, all of the women leave the two of them alone, even going so far as to shut the closet door behind them.

Taehyung lifts YN's face to look at her, reveling in the look of terror in her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, YN," he says, "When you stupidly burst into your parents' kitchen like a fool, I just knew that I wanted you. You're going to be so fun to destroy."

His touch is deceptively gentle.

"Why are you doing this?" YN asks, unable to look away from his deep gaze.

"Because I can," he says, "Because you don't want this. Any of the women affiliated with this gang would bend over backward for the position you're about to be forced into and yet here you are, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else but here. What's life without a challenge?"

"I hate you," YN snaps, "I'll always hate you."

"That's perfectly fine by me, darling," Taehyung says, "Hate me as much as you want. Love doesn't exist here. As long as you do as I say, I don't care what you feel. As long as you know that you're mine, you can let your little heart turn black with hate."

He sinks his teeth into the lobe of her ear, causing YN to wince. He pulls away, a cocky look on his face.

"Piss me off and you know what happens. But don't worry, I'll never hurt you somewhere where other people will see."

He pushes away from the vanity and begins to walk back out of the closet.

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful in the dress I picked out, YN. I'll see you at the alter."

Taehyung is gone as quickly as he came and the annoying workers are back again, this time notably less chatty than before. They finish up her makeup and hair, smoothing away the small mistakes Taehyung had implemented and don't give her a stitch of privacy as they tie and buckle her into the most uncomfortable lingerie she's ever seen. The dress they pull out of a garment bag is not her taste whatsoever but she doesn't say anything. In a way, she's kind of glad. This wedding has nothing to do with her. All of her childhood fantasies seem a million miles away from this disaster.

The dress doesn't even fit. It's at least a size and a half too small but that doesn't stop them from shoving her into it, pulling on the laces until she can barely breathe. She can't even bend over to pull her shoes on.

Jungkook appears when they are all finished, wordless and stoic. He leads her out of the room and through what feels like a million hallways, YN's feet hurting in the incredibly tall heels she was put into. YN tries her best to memorize the map for future use (or maybe escape) but she gets so confused that she gives up. Something tells her that it's exactly what Jungkook was going for.

Surprisingly, they don't end up in some gigantic room in this mansion. Jungkook takes her to a garage, assisting her into the backseat and sitting beside her.

"Where are we going?" YN asks.

Jungkook doesn't answer.

For a moment, YN considers jumping out of the car. She knows she wouldn't even make it to the door before Jungkook snatches her. YN's eyes flick up to the front seat and she notices that the man driving is the same one as from before. She doesn't know his name but she doesn't have anything else to look at so she finds herself studying him through the rearview mirror. Unlike Jungkook who looks tough and stoic with his filled out form and dozens of tattoos, the driver looks soft - nearly pretty.

YN wonders how he ended up here. Is he just another wolf in disguise? Or maybe he's here in a similar situation to her, working off debt with labor.

As if he feels her eyes on him, the driver lifts his gaze and smiles at her ever so slightly, the very first inkling of kindness anyone has given her since this nightmare started. YN returns it, a small smile gracing her face.

The car pulls over in front of a small church, something much more subdued than she would have expected given the ridiculous place Taehyung and his family live in.

Jungkook helps her out of the car with an iron grip, preventing her from bolting. There's a small waiting room inside and a single woman in uniform is waiting for her with a beautiful bouquet that she shoves into her hands.

"Don't fuck up," Jungkook says again.

The church doors open.

Chapter Six

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[andawaywego]

Prompt for a bly manor fic: Your take on what happened during the 13 years jamie and dani were together

oh, anon. thank you for this. it killed me, but i managed. obviously i couldn’t include everything, but i tried to go all the way through. hopefully you like it.

                                           ____________________

It’s funny how the ache in her bones, the pull in her muscles, never seems to go away. When she was younger, she’d always thought of love as something that was finite—expiration date on the horizon, creeping closer with every kiss and touch. Something you grow out of rather than old with.

But it’s a different kind of ache with Dani. A pull forward but not away. Not into the empty future or the lonely present, but into Dani’s warmth and her arms and her acceptance.

Two years and here they are.

It’s more than she could have ever known to ask for.

The first morning in their new apartment—the one they found together—Jamie wakes up to the rosy pink light coming through the uncurtained windows. The only blanket they’d managed to find is loose and messy on top of her body and she sighs. Stretches her arms and legs out. That ache is there—that pull—but there’s another ache, also. A different kind.

Sore muscles. Overworked. Tender from strain or else Dani’s tight grip, her nails digging in.

She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the memories of the night before wash over her. There are boxes stacked around them in precarious towers, and she eyes them fondly—looks at DANI BOOKS and SHEETS JAIME; their names written in thick marker on the cardboard, labeling the things they’ve brought with them. But there’s something to seeing them mixed together as they are.

Dani’s things with her things and so on and so forth.

When she turns her head, Dani is there, sleeping peacefully. It’s funny how someone who spends her days frantic with a thousand different emotions for every situation can be so still. Her hair is an absolute mess, tangled and ruffled from Jamie’s hands and the friction of the mattress. Her lips are dark pink, kiss-bruised, and there’s a love bite right beneath her collarbone.

Jamie looks her over. Smiles. Takes a deep breath as her heart and stomach do this...thing.

She wants to pull Dani closer, kiss her awake, because she misses hearing her talk, laugh, seeing her smile. And love isn’t just that pull, it’s longing for the person lying in bed beside you just because she isn’t awake yet.

So she settles for carefully scooting closer and kissing the crown of Dani’s head.

A little later, Dani will wake up and hum a good morning and run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to flatten it and Jamie will be too smitten to do anything but grin.

Another day, she thinks.

And how lucky she is for it.

.

“It really isn’t hurting that bad.”

Jamie unlocks the door to their apartment and steps inside, leaving Dani to close it behind them. She doesn’t answer.

“I mean...three stitches isn’t too terrible, right?”

Their half-made dinner is lying out on the counter still, a pot of water on the stove. Jamie takes it off and dumps it in the sink, then begins cleaning up the rest of it all.

“I can still do things at the shop.” Dani comes over and stands on the other side of the island. “I’m fine.”

Jamie turns away from her, taking a cutting board of a mostly-chopped or else bloodily diced onion to the garbage bin. She tosses it out and feels it as Dani steps closer.

“Are you really trying to give me the cold shoulder?”

Finally, Jamie turns and, throwing the cutting board down on the counter, looks up to meet Dani’s eyes. “Yes,” she says, “I am. I’m angry with you, Dani. Witness me being angry.”

She puts her hands on her hips and an image of her mother in the exact same pose—back before she’d left them—comes immediately to mind. Her arms drop back to her sides.

“It was an accident,” Dani defends. “And a little one at that. The doctor said there shouldn’t be any nerve or muscle damage.”

Jamie’s jaw drops open a little in surprise. “As if that makes it all better!” she says, a petulant twinge in her voice. “You might have been seriously hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.” She’s not yelling—no never—but she’s taken on the same tone she used to use with Miles and Flora when they wouldn’t listen. Jamie resists the urge to shrink under it. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not the point,” Jamie says firmly, eyes wild with agitation. “The point is that you weren’t be careful and you hurt yourself and you don’t even care—”

“It was an accident. It’s not like I meant to do it. Look.” She holds up her left hand to show off her heavily bandaged thumb and forefinger as she wiggles them a little. “It’s not even that big a deal.”

Beneath all that wrapping, Jamie knows that the stitches are there holding together the skin that was sliced apart by the knife Dani was using earlier. Jamie had been on pasta duty and was focused on that when she heard Dani’s quiet, “Oh,” followed by the dropping of the knife and—a little more frantically— a louder, “Crap.”

When she’d turned, all she’d seen was the cutting board covered in bright red droplets and Dani pressing paper towels to her hands over the sink. There’d been a lot of blood and Jamie has never been good with blood so, yes. Fine. Maybe she’d overreacted, but after two hours in the emergency room waiting around for someone to sew her girlfriend back together, that reaction still seems justified.

Dani smiles, trying to make the mood a little lighter, but there is still a sharp edge of panic in Jamie’s chest that hasn’t gone away and it’s making it a little hard to breathe.

“I really don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal,” Dani says, and she doesn’t mean it to come out the way it does—like Jamie is being ridiculous for caring—but it stings all the same.

And that’s when Jamie starts crying.

Really crying. Loud sobs and hot tears and her face buried in her hands as she leans back against the counter and tries to catch her breath.

Almost immediately, there are arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, rocking her back and forth.

“Oh, Jamie,” Dani whispers against Jamie’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to...God, I’m such a jerk.”

She presses a kiss to Jamie’s forehead and Jamie wraps her arms around her stomach, curling into Dani’s chest. “No, you’re right. I’m being silly,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I just...When I saw ya’ standing there like that...and all that blood, I just—I just can’t help imagining what might have happened if it were worse. If…”

In all the time they’ve been together, they haven’t discussed what happened at Bly more than strictly necessary. Those concerns that plagued their every moment at the beginning have fallen to the wayside as they’ve built their life together. But Jamie remembers it—remembers Dani’s worry over how many days they’ll have—and now she can hardly think of anything else.

The next few minutes are filled with Dani’s quiet shushing. Saying, “I’m here,” and, “It’s okay,” while Jamie tries to calm down.

“I’m sorry I’m such a full-time job,” Dani says. “I can’t even...make dinner with you without grievously wounding myself.”

Jamie chuckles wetly against the fabric of Dani’s sweater. “No, you can’t, can you?” she whispers back. “Not sure how you ever got around without me, Poppins.” This gets her a full-on laugh and she grins at the sound, wishing she could hear it forever.

“Me neither,” Dani says. “But you’re here now, right? And so am I. And I’m okay. Temporarily a little less ambidextrous maybe. But okay.”

“You’re a bit of an idiot,” Jamie says without a hint of malice.

“But I’m your idiot,” Dani says and Jamie pulls back enough to tug her in for a kiss.

Dani cups a hand behind Jamie’s neck and deepens it, and Jamie can taste the salt of her own tears, but she just keeps kissing her back.

“I love you,” Dani whispers, pressing the words into Jamie’s lips like she’s trying to make them stay.

Jamie sighs. Kisses Dani again. “I love you, too.”

She’s alive. They both are. And that’s enough, isn’t it?

.

And it is. It’s enough for so long.

Four years in, Dani kisses her awake on Christmas morning saying, “Come on, I wanna give you your presents,” and Jamie is still half-asleep as she’s dragged to their Christmas tree in the living room. It’s a necklace with a lock on it—the kind they’d seen at a shop a few months back and laughed about for hours after, wondering why any man would think it was a good present for a woman. Dani has the one with the key on it and Jamie kisses her as they laugh, sliding her arms around Dani’s waist and practically pushing her onto the rug.

And then there is that golden afternoon with that silly plant Dani brings home a year later. The Claddagh ring and Dani holding her in a vise grip that Jamie won’t understand until much, much later.

After the proposal—after she says yes, that’s enough, yes yes—and she’s wearing her ring, Dani hovers over her in their bed, looking down at Jamie, one arm pressed to the mattress beside her head, the other hand slipping between her legs. Jamie presses her palms to Dani’s bare shoulder blades and sighs, and Dani smiles, her eyes catching the light of the sun peeking through their curtains.

“I love you,” Jamie tells her, pressing her knees to either side of Dani’s hips. “God, I love you so much.”

And Dani stops smiling. The sun leaves her eyes. In its place are tears. One of them slips free and drips down to land on Jamie’s sternum as Dani leans in and presses her face into Jamie’s neck.

Kisses the skin there. Silently sobbing. Her hand still moving a little.

“Dani,” Jamie whispers, clutching her tighter. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

After a moment, Dani pulls herself back up and presses their foreheads together, still crying. Jamie cups her face, rubbing the tears away with her thumbs and kissing Dani’s nose, her eyebrow, her chin. Anywhere she can reach.

And she knows the answer. Knows what it is. Feels it too.

That fear. That terror at the thought of losing one another. It’s ever-present, no matter how good Jamie has gotten at talking around it. It’s still there, and she watches as the what-ifs play in Dani’s eyes.

But Dani doesn’t say that exactly. Not at all, really.

She says: “I’m just really...really happy.”

Jamie doesn’t poke. She doesn’t prod. She just smiles, says, “I am, too,” and kisses Dani again and again.

.

But time moves ever on. It nips at their heels whenever they try to linger, pushing them ever forward.

It goes and goes and with it goes Jamie.

Things are good. They aren’t simple, but they are good.

Dani takes up her every moment, everywhere at once, larger than life with a smile like a sonnet and lips that write love letters everytime they find Jamie’s.

There are photographs around their apartment of the places they’ve gone. New York and California and Paris and Spain. Arms around one another. Grinning with the blue sky spinning over their heads.

Dani is still Dani. She is Jamie’s best friend, her partner, her wife.

They have date nights once a week, so regularly that the staff at all the local restaurants know them by name. Other days, they live domestically. Do laundry together. Cook together. Go to the movies. There are still so many weekends spent in bed, too.

But it slips. More and more each day. If she is Dani one moment, she is her Other the next. And there is still some of Dani inside her Other when this happens, yes, but it is dark and hidden, nothing but the echo of that light.

And yet—

Her smile is still a star in the night sky.

And it stays. At dinners, at New Year’s Party’s, on plane rides and train rides and everywhere they go. Dani here and Dani there and nine years before she cannot ignore the ache, the slice.

Cuts deeper each time. No avoiding it, she thinks. Not in the end.

But it is not the end.

Not yet.

Jamie wakes up in their bed a decade into loving Dani and she is not alone. Dani is lying beside her, hair mussed by fingers and friction. Love bites down her neck. Smiling in her sleep with eyelashes fluttering.

She isn’t surprised anymore by the devotion that runs through her veins, the same devotion that has gripped her all this time.

Dani will wake up soon, like she has every day so far, and there will be morning-breath kisses and breakfast plans scrapped in favor of staying in bed. They will say, “I love you,” on the same breath, at the same moment, and laugh at their timing, touching and knowing and remembering and it will be enough.

They will have that moment.

And there is still time for a hundred more like it.

..

[hazbincalifornia]

Choice

Chapter 24:  Blitzo goes back to work.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and an IMP death relating to hanging.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Welcome back, Blitzo!” Millie smiled from her seat atop Loona’s desk as Blitzo threw the door to the office open. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I’m sure it-”

“Millz, love you to death, but put a sock in it before I do it for you,” he growled, eyes narrow and fists clenched tighter than a politician’s asshole as he chucked his already-drained iced coffee cup into the trash. Loona shuffled in behind him and dropped on the couch, pointedly focusing on her phone screen.

“Geez, who whizzed in your cereal? Something happen?” Millie blinked, bouncing herself up a bit on her seat to keep at his eye level. “Can we help?”

Moxxie emerged from Blitzo's office, shuffling papers. “We’ve managed the cases so far just fine, but I need you to sign off on-”

“You can sign my-” Blitzo sucked in a deep breath, pinching his forehead before letting it out. “Fine, everything’s fine.”

Moxxie raised an eyebrow. “I take it something went wrong. That, or you’re just sex-hungover. That can happen, you know-”

Millie cut him off with a click of her tongue, and his mouth snapped shut. “Moxxie, we don’t need the honeymoon story, I think somethin’s really wrong. He looks all slumpy, like a willow-weed in the r-”

“Can both of you lay off? I don't need the tag-team act right now.” Blitzo wove around Moxxie and his pile of paperwork to enter his office- the one that Moxxie shouldn't have been gallivanting in and out of. “You two deal with the client, I just really, really want to fucking shoot something, so tell me when the deal’s done, alright?”

Millie sucked in her cheek and Moxxie glanced over to her before his eyes flicked back to Blitzo, whose fingers twitched before he slammed the door in their faces.

_______________________

Three sharp knocks on the door. “Sir? It’s time to go, unless you want us to work by ourselves again. We’re more than capable-”

“No, I’m up, I’m up.” Blitzo scrubbed at his eyes- any attempts to fall asleep at his desk and make up for the complete lack of any kind of rest last night had been thoroughly thwarted by his brain going at a hundred miles an hour. (The coffee wasn’t to blame. Probably. He’d fallen asleep on way more than the piddly single one he’d downed in the past.) Mostly, it had been wanting to throttle Stolas mixed with wanting to throttle himself, and then imagining rapidly escalating scenarios of where he might be able to chuck the kid once they popped out. (Currently, he was at ‘trying to slingshot them up to Heaven just to see what they’d do with it.’ In all likelihood, it’d be crucifix batting practice.)

“It’s one that the client said might be suicidal, but she seemed quite self-important and thought that her boyfriend wouldn’t be able to live without her anyway, so I wouldn’t trust that.” The chair creaked as Blitzo got up, but if it was because it was a couple years old and salvaged from the back of the circus’s dump or because of the deadweight around his gut that had officially turned his shirt into a crop top was anybody’s guess. 

As he entered the main room, Moxxie was rubbing a cloth over the musical note on the side of his gun, and Millie fussed with a length of rope while humming to herself.

“I’unno sugar, the client said he was kinda hefty…”

“We have other options if it breaks, and clients often exaggerate that sort of thing. Besides, it just needs to hold him long enough to snap the neck, or at least asphyxiate him. Then they’ll just assume it broke after he died.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more cleanup.”

“Well, this is the kind of rope they can usually get topside, so I say we- oh, good, you’re here.” Moxxie pointed to the paper piled up on the coffee table. “I already did all the hard bits, I just need your signature.”

“Right, right. Signature. Got it. Then we get to go kill something, right?”

Moxxie glanced over at Millie, and the look they exchanged passed way more information than Blitzo’d ever be able to parse. Must be a marriage thing. Must be nice, too. Being able to know what each other was thinking and shit. Real useful.

“Yeah, hun, then we can go kill something. Nothing like some good ol’ violence to get the blood pumping, right?” Millie smiled as Blitzo dashed off a loopy B on each of the papers. Most of them were bills, a few were paychecks that he’d probably just forgotten in the mess of the past few months since Moxxie would know better than to try and slip extras in since it would destroy the budget anyway, there was one approving the repairs for the fire, right, right, this was why he let Moxxie handle all the boring shit, at least it was easy to just sign the dotted line- there. Done.

Blitzo cracked his knuckles, tail snapping in mid-air. “Right! Let’s go fuck somebody up!”

“There we go!” Millie gave a little laugh, punching his arm as Moxxie picked up the Grimoire and opened to the right page before drawing the circle with his free hand. Loona was still settled on the couch behind him, nursing a sports drink from the fridge and half-watching the three of them, head tilted slightly.

Moxxie nodded to the portal, setting the book down on the desk. “Right behind you, sir.”

____________________

The guy didn’t even fight back when they woke him up and strung him up. What a wuss. Hangings were usually fun since they squirmed and made funny noises while trying to break free if the neck didn't snap when the chair dropped, but it wasn’t nearly bloody enough for Blitzo’s taste today. Oh, sure, he’d clawed at the rope that had manufactured nylon sharp enough to carve out blood from under his nails, but his face was purpling at a rapid rate, so they probably didn’t have to do anything other than let gravity finish the job for them, especially considering his kicks were starting to slow anyway.

“You want to go watch some wrestling death-matches when we get back home? I heard they’re bringing the Big Boar in, he’s some sinner who was a lucador back in life. That’ll get some of that killer instinct out.” Millie gave a playful growl as she rummaged around in the target’s belongings. Blitzo watched her hips waggle for a moment before she made a little ‘hmmph’ at a pin-up cowgirl calendar.

“Hmm… tempting, Millz, tempting.”

“Pride wrestling’s more like good ol’ fashioned blood sport, especially when they get the guys that can regenerate limbs!” She ground her fist into her palm with an intense look. Moxxie rolled his eyes as Blitzo leaned against the wall.

“Pl-ease… sa...ve..” the human wheezed out before Moxxie poked at his stomach, and he coughed up blood directly on the little imp before falling limp. Moxxie grimaced, using the man’s somewhat-sweaty bedsheet nearby to clean himself off.

“Perhaps you could invite his highness? I remember him saying something about-”

“Nope,”  Blitzo snapped out immediately. “Not gonna fuckin’ happen.”

Moxxie raised an eyebrow, dropping the sheets. “It was just a suggestion, sir. Had too much of him over the past few days?”

“You could say that,” Blitzo muttered, a hand resting on his stomach, and Millie's eyes softened.

“Aw, you could have said something. He ride you too hard?”

The fingers curled inwards, claws dragging above the surface and lighting it up red, forcing him away from his own skin. “Something along those lines, yeah. You two can drop this anytime, you know.”

“Well, at least the little one will be out of your hair soon,” Moxxie said. “Just a few more months, then I would imagine it’s just visitations now and then. You said that you’d already discussed things with him about custody, right?”

Blitzo swallowed, the hand raising up from his belly to rub at the back of his neck. “So, er, about that-”

The wood groaned as Moxxie took a step forward. “No. You didn’t.”

“Come on, Moxx, he was drooling over it, how the fuck was I supposed to know he wanted me to-”

Moxxie threw up his hands. “What have I told you? To think about what you’re doing! What do you do? Throw yourself-”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?”

“Of course it’s your fault!” Moxxie folded his arms. “What did I say when you were considering keeping it? That it was going to be a big responsibility! You barely can call Loona civilized and she’s somehow a legal adult, what in the seven rings would you fuck up if you had to raise an actual child?”

“Exactly! I don’t fucking want to!” Blitzo spat out with enough venom to make Moxxie’s fingers tighten on his arms. “That’s the point, I thought this was just going to be for a couple of months and then yeah, maybe getting to see them now and then wouldn't suck the worst ass if they turn out cool, but I’ve got other shit to do! I’m a busy guy, and I’d definitely fuck it-”

“Blitzo…” Millie reached out a hand before curling it into a loose fist in midair. “Hun, I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Thank you, Millie.”

“Although…” She gnawed on her lip for a moment, and he groaned.

“Don’t you start-”

“Why did you adopt Loona then? I’m genuinely wonderin’, that’s all. You love her to bits, why’s this different? If you hadn’t done that I wouldn’t be askin’, but… you like being a dad.”

“I…” He trailed off. There was a scuttering in the wall behind him, like a roach or some other grimy-grody pest, and a chill drilled down the vertebrae of his spine as a shiver ran through his bones. Why was the sweat dripping down his side cold, like condensation on the side of a frozen water bottle? Damned drafty house. “I wanted to be there for somebody, somebody that I chose to be, and that won't-" He cleared his throat, shaking his head to start over. "Anyway, she’s a good kid who's figuring her shit out and I like hanging out with her. I'm glad to be her dad. That's different."

“Why would this be so bad, then?” Millie repeated. 

Blitzo scoffed. “ ‘Cause I got Loona when she was older and I had to go through a buncha bullshit to sign the papers instead of just getting nutted in and having it sprung on me? That was an active effort, and teenagers are basically an entirely different species from babies, I’ve only had to clean up her shit a couple of times-”

“Did not need to know that,” Moxxie muttered.

“-Shut up Moxxie, but anyway, point is, Loonie was already walking and talking and has her own tastes and shit, most babies are just worthless little parasites until they’re, like, ten. I was a fuckin’ miserable little thing to deal with according to literally fucking everybody, so why the fuck would I want to inflict that on myself when I can help somebody that’s already gotten through most of the annoying phase? Plus, her sense of fashion kicks ass. Babies can't pick you out dope outfits." His tail snaked up and tapped his shoulder. "Point to me, excellent reasoning.”

“She’s still your daughter, and you still have to deal with a lot from-” Millie tried to continue, but Blitzo held up a hand.

“Look, it’s just different, okay? The apartment’s crowded enough. I’ll figure this out somehow.”

“...If you’re sure,” Millie said, shifting her weight on the creaky floorboards. “How did the prince take it?”

“Ugh, you really think I want to get deep into his little wah-wah I-thought-you-knew bullshittery?” Blitzo snorted. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks, he should have been upfront about the fact that I was going to be ruining both me and the squirt’s life instead of just being a fuckin’ incubator for cash. End of story.”

There was a nudge from inside of him that was much sharper than usual, and Blitzo’s eyes snapped down.

“Did you just fuckin’ bite me?”

[iforgotmypreviousaccountlol]

Starting Line

Happy Holidays, @carson-asmo-lover 

This is your Secret Santa gift. I hope you like it!

AU: Asmo is a uni student who just moved into a new apartment unit, Solomon is living next door learning how to bake. Every day, Asmo would smell the sweet aroma of baked goods from his room and in the hallways. One day, after a hectic day from uni, he stops in front of the door trying to guess which baked good is being made for that day. The door opens, cue awkward silence, Solomon invites Asmo into his apartment, and into his life.

ASMO

There, there it is again. Asmodeus glanced at his wall clock. Right on time: 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The sweet smell of sugar and pastry permeated his room. His next-door neighbour is baking again. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to take a guess which pastry his neighbour decided to make today. It has been a good past-time for whenever he found himself bored on some days when he doesn’t have uni classes. Not that he had nothing better to do, he had to catch up on a lot of schoolworks but he isn’t in the mood to do them right now.

He moved in just a few months ago so he could be closer to school, but now that he enjoyed the new-found freedom that is living alone, he realized he missed the constant presence of his brothers. Sure, having his own place meant that Lucifer wasn’t around to nag him when he goes out to party most nights, or if he brings people back to his place for some night escapades (He never did bring someone over though. Maybe he should.) He made a mental note to go home for the weekend if the workload permits.

“Cinnamon rolls,” he finally said, propping up from the couch. The sweet smell of the cinnamon powder that contrasted with the slightly sour cream cheese made Asmo’s mouth water. He groaned. “If you’re gonna make pastries, at least offer some to your neighbours so we don’t get hungry from the smell.”

Now he has no choice but to go down and buy something sweet to satisfy his craving. He put on a peach sweater and wrapped a white scarf around his neck. He stared at his reflection for a moment. His champagne-colored hair was longer on one side, stylishly swept to frame his face. His diamond stud earring reflected light when he turned his face in a certain angle. “Alright, enough. I look stunning, as always.”

He wrinkled his nose at his neighbour’s door when he passed on his way out, the smell of cinnamon is much stronger in the hallway. He hadn’t even met the mysterious baker, given that he’s almost always out to some party when he isn’t in class, it’s strange that they never even once bumped into each other in the lobby or the elevator. He shrugged and went on his way to hunt for some cinnamon rolls.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Asmo was almost dragging himself back to his condo unit after a hectic morning. He had a 3-hour lecture for Fashion Marketing and he had to pass a 10-page essay on Fashion Theory (which of course, he crammed last night. He even skipped a campus party!) and he’s just about ready to pass out and is determined to take a long nap for the whole afternoon. That would have been a solid plan, except it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and the scent of baked sweets wafted from his neighbour’s room and into the hallway.

He stopped on his tracks and inhaled the scent, his brain immediately fell to its routine, trying to discern which ingredients are being used to create what pastry. “Milk, definitely. What else? Eggs? And oh—”

The door suddenly opened. Asmo jerked back in surprise, his hand latched to the strap of his sling bag. He blinked once, twice.

A tall man with silvery-white hair with stunning blue-gray eyes, wearing a black turtleneck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and white apron, came out of the room carrying a small trash bag. Asmo was never one to be at a loss for words, especially not in front of attractive people, but his tongue refused to make an audible sound.

“Oh, hello. I suppose you’re my neighbour? I believe this is the first time we’re meeting each other?” The man continued, “I’m Solomon.”

Asmo shook off his surprise and cleared his throat. He wore his usual disarming smile and nodded at him. “Asmodeus. I just came back from school, I was just, uh,” he said while gesturing to his unit’s door.

“I see.”

Awkward silence filled the space between and around them. Asmo noticed a faint sprinkle of flour on Solomon’s right cheek, he clamped down the urge to reach in and dust it off.

The fire alarm started beeping causing the two to jolt in surprise. Solomon raced to the trash chute, dumped the trash bag and raced back inside his room to turn off the oven. Asmo stood unmoving to the doorway. He wondered if he should offer help.

Thick smoke came out of the oven when Solomon opened it, he fanned the oven with a mitt. The fire alarm hasn’t stopped beeping so Asmo mindlessly stepped inside and grabbed the nearest flat object (which happened to be a pan of piped cream puff dough) to fan the alarm component on the ceiling. He honestly had no idea what he’s doing. The piped dough from the baking pan fell and scattered on the floor, one even hitting him right on the cheek.

“Oh. It stopped,” he commented, the pan still raised over his head.

Asmo glanced at Solomon who was still kneeling in front of the oven and saw that a bunch of dough pieces is now strewn around the kitchen floor. A solitary piece of dough stuck on the baking sheet finally gave up and dropped on Asmo’s forehead. He blinked slowly, unsure on how to react.

Solomon snorted, obviously trying but miserably failing to hold back a laugh. Asmo flicked away the dough which earned a chuckle from Solomon, which in turn triggered Asmo to burst into laughter.

“Sorry, that was… not funny.” Solomon said in between laughs.

Asmo doubled over. He wiped a tear that escaped his eye from laughing and said, “It kinda was.”

“Listen, why don’t you sit and clean yourself up. I’ll just tidy up for a bit and we could enjoy the successful batch I made earlier. Think of it as a welcoming present.”

Asmo considered it for a moment. Sleep or… this? “Sure.”

Solomon smiled, and started cleaning up the mess.

Asmo pulled out a chair and sat. His rose and gold eyes followed Solomon’s movement. It mesmerized him; the grace in his movements, certain and self-assured. He stared so hard he didn’t even notice that Solomon was already standing in front of him asking something.

He shook his head a tiny bit. “I’m sorry, come again?”

Solomon chuckled. His chuckle sent a shiver down Asmo’s spine.

“I asked if you would like tea or coffee. To pair with the cream puffs.”

“Tea, please. With milk.”

Solomon nodded and proceeded to the kitchen counter to make the tea. Asmo wanted to face palm and cringe. Why is he acting this way?

“So… tell me about yourself,” Solomon said.

Asmo paused. In any other instances, he would’ve already started talking about himself without even needing to be prompted. Why is it that he can’t think of something interesting to tell this guy?

“Why don’t we talk about you first?” Asmo deflected the question.

That earned another smile from the fair-haired man. He brought the cooling rack containing the cream puffs and a tray of tea and cups.

“What do you want to know?”

Everything, Asmo thought. Instead he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Chemistry. You?”

Huh, that surprisingly fits him. “Fashion design. Why are you always baking?”

Solomon sipped his tea. “I promised my little brother Luke I would teach him how to bake. You see, a friend of mine, Barbatos went overseas for a job. He was the one who was supposed to teach Luke. But since he can’t, I decided to give it a go.”

“That’s incredibly nice of you.”

“Thank you. For now I still need to watch videos and study the recipe but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. Well, except for the incident earlier.”

Asmo nodded. The cream puffs looked so good he wanted to pull out his phone and post it on his Instagram but he stopped himself. He reached for one and popped it into his mouth.

The milky taste and the slight crisp of the puff blended well, it tasted divine—Asmo’s thoughts stopped at the same time he stopped chewing. WHAT IS THAT? It’s bitter and spicy and sour, flavor after flavor assaulted his taste buds faster than his brain can process the actual taste of the pastry.

He looked at Solomon, the latter clearly expecting a comment or reaction from him. Good thing he quickly managed his expression. He smiled, the cream puff still stuck on the roof of his mouth.

He was saved by the ringing of Solomon’s phone. When Solomon turned his back to reach for his phone, he quickly spit out the pastry on his handkerchief and stowed it on his bag’s pocket.

Solomon’s eyes widened slightly at him when he saw him gulped down his tea as a desperate attempt to wash out the aftertaste. “You sure are thirsty. More tea?” Solomon offered.

“I am. Yes, please.” Asmo nodded vigorously.

“So, what can you say about the cream puffs? It’s my first time so I can understand if they didn’t turn out perfect.”

That would be the understatement of the year, Asmo thought. He also dreaded the question. To tell or not to tell? “Do you have any more of the strawberry tart you made the other day?”

“How did you know I made some?”

“Please. Everyone on this floor probably knows what you’re baking every day.”

Solomon chuckled and proceeded to get a strawberry tart from his fridge.

Asmo swallowed, bracing himself. Just a small bite. A chaos of flavors.

He placed his palms flat on the table for 10 seconds then rushed to the sink to spit out the tart and gargle water. “What the hell was that?”

Solomon raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean? It tastes normal to me.”

Asmo’s jaw fell when he saw Solomon eating his tart with no problem, enjoying it even. He can’t believe he spent his days craving for sweets his neighbour baked when in reality they taste this atrocious.

“That’s it, Solomon. You’re not allowed to bake anymore,” Asmo said, shaking his head.

“Huh? I thought I was doing fine. I really need to learn though, I can’t disappoint Luke.”

Asmo bit his lip, considering. He sighed. “Fine. You can bake all you want, but never without me. I’ll oversee whatever you’re doing to make sure you never end up making those… those unidentifiable monstrosities again!”

Solomon smiled; in his grey-blue eyes, Asmo saw wonders, and potential, and… a future. “Deal.”

SOLOMON

Solomon checked his watch. It’s Friday and Asmo will be coming over in a minute or two. It’s already been more than a month since they started their “baking lessons.” Granted, it’s not every day; it’s only twice a week, thrice when their schedule permits. But would it be a stretch if he admitted to himself that the highlight of his weeks are the days when Asmodeus comes over to watch him work?

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He should just give Asmo a spare key, he thought while walking towards the door.

“You’ll never guess what happened in class today! So see, I crammed a paper again last night so I almost came late for class. Our professor for that class was Professor Simeon, you know? He’s wonderful but can be very strict so I didn’t want to be late and be scolded but then, on the way to the classroom…”

Solomon’s lips tugged at the corner as he watched Asmo lament about his tiring day at school. His strawberry champagne bangs swept stylishly, slightly messed up by the wind. His gold and ruby eyes sparkling along with his words and gestures. Asmo always looked alive to him. No, not the usual alive as in living. Really alive. Maybe that’s what happens when you know to find love in everything.

“Anyway, what are we making today?” Asmo finished, hanging his white coat on the rack near the door.

We. It shouldn’t have sounded as nice as it did. “We,” he said the word with maybe a bit more excitement than warranted, “are making red velvet cake.”

“All right! That’s great. I love red velvet.”

“I already prepared—”

He stopped because of the irritation that flashed in Asmo’s eyes. He bit his lower lip to suppress a smile.

“Throw it out.”

“That would be a waste. At least try out the batter before rejecting it.”

Asmo put both his hands on Solomon’s shoulders and looked at him seriously, emphasizing his words, “Solomon, I know for a fact that you are an amazing and smart chemist, but you’re hopeless in the kitchen.”

Solomon laughed which earned a chuckle from Asmo. “No, no, I didn’t add any suspicious ingredients this time. I swear. I followed the instructions word for word.”

Asmo begrudgingly took a spoon and tasted the batter.

“Good?”

He shrugged. “Surprisingly.”

It was two weeks ago when Asmo finally figured out what he was doing wrong all this time. Solomon had a bad habit of experimenting with ingredients, most likely because of his chemistry experiments. But even after figuring out what’s the problem, Asmo continued supervising his baking. Not that he’s complaining, and not that he would ever ask the arrangement to be over. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked having Asmodeus over.

Solomon started whipping the frosting with a hand mixer while Asmo stayed close to watch him. It took a lot to focus and not glance on his side.

Asmo said, “Hey, you got a little something—”

His eyes met Asmo’s in time as Asmo’s fingers dusted something from his cheek. They stayed frozen in time for a moment; staring at each other, Asmo’s fingers barely grazing Solomon’s cheek.

The moment would’ve lasted longer if the mixer’s whisk attachment hit the side of the bowl in a wrong angle and sprayed both of them with frosting. They blinked at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Kitchen blunders for the nth time,” Solomon joked.

Asmo pulled out his phone and suggested they take a picture, Solomon let Asmo take their “selfie.” After Asmo was satisfied with the pictures, Solomon reached for a paper towel to wipe frosting from Asmo’s usual immaculately beautiful face.

After the cake cooled, Asmo helped design the frosting. He also took pictures to post on his Instagram. Solomon made an account last week just to look at the pictures occasionally. The photo of the cake earned hundreds of likes and comments in minutes. Well, that can’t be helped, Asmo is a popular guy. Solomon would be too if he actually bothered to socialize, but he found it rather exhausting to deal with people he’s not interested in.

“Hey, could you send me our picture from earlier?” Sol said.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Asmo fiddled with his phone. “…And sent.”

“Thank you,” Solomon replied.

They settled down on the table to eat the cake they made and have some tea. They talked about their days and their upcoming exams. Eventually, the sun started setting. Its golden rays streaming from the window, dyeing the room in a soft orange hue.

“I think you’re okay now, Solomon. Remember to just always follow the instructions and don’t add any unnecessary ingredients to whatever you’re cooking or baking, and it’ll turn out fine.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. He pushed away the idea that Asmo will now stop coming over because they already eliminated the cause of the weird taste (which isn’t actually weird for him).

“It's a force of habit. I’m always curious so I can’t stop myself from experimenting with things.”

“I guess…”

“Why, am I eating up too much of your time?” He asked.

“Of course not. I like spending time with you, Solomon.” Asmo’s cheeks flushed a bit.

Solomon sipped his tea.

Asmo took the small window of silence to change the topic. “Anyway, I got a call from Mammon the other day and guess what? He’s appearing in a mag—”

“Me too,” he interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“I like spending time with you too.”

Asmo was caught off-guard but eventually smiled. He reached for his bag and pulled out a silver box with a champagne-colored ribbon. “By the way, here.”

Solomon’s brows wrinkled. “What’s this?”

“Happy Birthday, Solomon.”

“How did you—”

Asmo winked at him. “Information comes easily when you have a lot of friends.” Asmo laughed and continued, “Kidding. I’m in the same class as Meph, he works in the registrar’s office as an assistant so I asked him. I had to do him some favours, but eh, it’s worth it.”

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.”

Asmo’s phone beeped, he looked at his notifications. His eyes widened a fraction.

Solomon smiled. He had an idea why Asmo was surprised. He glanced on his own phone, notifications pouring in fast. He clicked on a post, his first one ever.

It’s a photo Asmo took of them earlier. Asmo, lively as always, was throwing a peace sign while winking, his ruby and gold eyes full of wonder; Solomon, his blue-grey eyes a pool of mystery, was smiling a bit, looking at him contentedly. The caption? Best birthday with ‘that special someone.’

His phone chimed, a notification appeared on top of his screen: Asmodeus liked your photo.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @azothel donated $50, and requested ‘jealous Sam with implied Dean/John.’ Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Summer in Arizona. Sam thinks it might actually be hell. He’s laying spread eagle on his bed, stripped down to t-shirt and boxers, and this absolute dump of a motel only has an evaporative cooler and so the whole place smells like wet dust. He’s got his eyes closed, concentrated on not moving, and if he doesn’t move then he can pretend like it’s damp instead of sticky--cool, instead of muggy--but unfortunately it doesn’t stop his ears from working, because Dean’s on the phone with Dad. Again.

“Yessir,” Dean says, quiet. Corded phone up near the door and he’s got it pulled all the way over by the mini-fridge. Like if he’s far enough away somehow Sam won’t notice. “Yeah, we got it taken care of. When do you think you’ll--”

Be back, cut off. That’s what Dean always wants--Dad, back, the three of them faking at happy families. Sam opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling fan, slow its only speed. They aren’t exactly a Norman Rockwell painting. Sam doesn’t know why Dean pretends otherwise.

“Yeah,” Dean says, soft, and it’s nasty the way Sam’s gut immediately takes a downward turn. He draws up on his elbows, looking past the screen into the tiny kitchenette. Dean, leaning against the wall with his shoulders hunched in, the cord tangled in his fingers. Chick from a movie talking to her crush, Sam thinks, and his second thought is--worse. “Yeah, Dad. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs. When he turns around he’s surprised for some reason, seeing Sam watching him. “Dad’s gonna be another week,” Dean says, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. He’s still wearing jeans, and that Ozzy tour t-shirt they found at the thrift mart. Overdressed, to Sam’s mind. Dean flaps his shirt, his white belly showing. “How do people live here. It’s so frickin’ hot, man.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, sounding braindead. How do they live.

They weren’t supposed to be here. California, Dad had promised, and Dean lit up with talking about going to the beach, cool breezes and girls in bikinis. Of course, when they stalled out here with five hundred miles to go, because Dad caught wind of weird deaths in the Chiricahua Mountains, Dean didn’t complain a peep. He went out with Dad one night--left Sam alone, in this same dumpy motel, to stew and worry--and then he came back by himself the next morning, fretful but loyal. Told Sam, Dad’s got it covered, don’t worry. Like that was what Sam was worried about. Dean had a bruise, on his shoulder, when he came back. Sam laid awake, wondering--knowing. Knowing. He’s always known.

The motel has a pool, if you can call it that. A crappy small kidney bean with no shade, carved out of bleached-white kool deck. It gets locked up at night but they figured out pretty quick that the motel manager’s a drunk and doesn’t give a damn what they do, and so it’s something to occupy them at night--a padlock Sam could’ve picked when he was nine, a six pack of beer they share because Dean can actually get it legally, now. “Not as fun that way,” Dean says, shrugging. Sam rolls his eyes and shoves water at his face, which makes Dean splutter predictable as ever--which makes him dive for Sam, predictable as ever--which means they wrestle, trying to dunk each other, and Sam’s got new height but Dean’s got more experience, and Sam wants to win but--but Dean’s skin is slick-silk, even in the over-chlorinated water, and he’s warm and weightless, and whoever wins Sam’s held right up close against his body and has Dean laughing and right here, right here, with him and nowhere else.

Nobody comes out this way. Not this time of year. There’s a tired hispanic family that checks in, one night, and they have a pretty daughter maybe Sam’s age--who smiles at Dean, shy but interested, and Dean grins at her, blows her a kiss, until her dad sees and she gets berated in a quiet barrage of Spanish. “Dude, I am an international man of mystery,” Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes and says, “Okay, Austin Powers,” and that was--shit, a mistake, because he knows that instantly Dean’s going to do his terrible Mike Myers impression--but then the phone rings in their room, and Dean’s face changes instantly, and he disappears inside while Sam bangs his head back against the stucco. He doesn’t need to hear to know Dean’s saying, obedient, yessir. Sam looks out at the fire-colored sunset and wonders, bitter, if Dean’s dick gets hard every time he does.

Sick. Not that Sam has room to throw stones. When they finally drag themselves out of the pool--one a.m., four beers under Dean’s belt and two under Sam’s--half the time Dean’ll just change right there, in the kitchenette on, making a puddle on the linoleum. “Dude,” Sam will always say, throwing up hands like it’s gross--because he knows he’s supposed to find it gross--and Dean always says, “Like you don’t love it,” smug. They hardly go out in the day, too damn hot, and so he’s pale, pale, everywhere, his back and the pretty curve of his ass and his legs, bowed out at the knee where Sam knows he’d fit, where he’d slide his hips between them and it’d feel--right. Cowboy legs, Dad called ‘em once, kind of drunk, and Dean had immediately darted a look at Sam and his ears had gone bright red--and Sam had looked away, thinking, yeah. Made for riding.

Seriously, sick. Sicker that he bets he wasn’t the only one in the room having that thought. Sicker, that when Dean tugs up dry boxers and turns around, Sam doesn’t look away fast enough, and Dean sees him and his face does--some strange thing, something Sam doesn’t know how to interpret. His amulet swings in the middle of his pale chest and Sam wants to get up, grab him by it, pull him in. Ask him--why not Sam? Why, if it was going to be anyone--

“Dude, earth to Samuel,” Dean says, and Sam blinks and refocuses. Dean frowns at him, kinda smiling-kinda not. “You gonna sleep in your wet trunks? Get a move on, weirdo.”

“You’re weird,” Sam says, automatic and dumb, and Dean rolls his eyes, throws himself back onto his own bed. Sam looks at him--his knees, spread--his nipples getting hard in the damp cool air--and then looks away. He has to, because if he doesn’t then he has to do something, and he just doesn’t know what to do.

Dad swings by--middle of the night, the next night. Sam’s asleep until the door opens, and then his eyes slam open at the wall away from the door, listening to the low conversation happening behind his back. Everything okay? Yeah, kiddo. Just needed a resupply. Salt and a few other things. Gotta head back into the mountains but I think I’ve about got it cleaned out. Can I help? No--this is a stealth mission, can’t risk it. I’m just taking a shower before I head out. Wanted to stop by and make sure you boys were okay. We’re okay, Dad. Do you...

The bathroom door closes, very quietly. Sam breathes, twice, and sits up, and the room’s empty. He looks at the bathroom door, and the water rushes on, and he can’t hear talking--it’s not Dean sitting on the toilet giving a debrief while Dad cleans up blood and guts, not like they’ve done before--and it takes Sam a minute to realize that he’s chubbing up, his mouth dry because he’s just staring at the pale pink paintjob, and he’s imagining--cowboy legs. Fuck.

They don’t try to wake Sam up, before Dad leaves. The room door closes and Dean fixes up the locks again, and when Sam turns over he’s got his forehead pressed against the paint, his hair still wet and his boxers barely tugged on, and Sam--jesus, how’s he supposed to take it? There’s an engine sound--the peel-out of tires on gravel. Dad’s gone, again. “Good visit?” Sam says, and Dean jumps, looks at Sam over his shoulder.

“Shit, dude, nearly gave me a heart attack,” Dean says. Frowns, after a second. “You woke up?”

“I’ve been here the whole time, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean’s frown gets deeper before his eyes go wide. It’d be kind of funny if Sam weren’t pissed. “Like--I’m not deaf, you know?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Sam gets up, crosses the room, and Dean doesn’t say anything still until Sam’s right in front of him--both of them in their bare feet and Sam’s got half an inch on him, even if he’s still trying to get the muscle--and Dean says finally, “Sammy, what--” but it’s a little late because Sam’s got his hands on Dean’s arms--damp, warm--and presses him back, against the door.

This close, Sam can see a red mark--a circle, on Dean’s shoulder where normally it’d be covered by a t-shirt--and he thinks, sudden sick certainty, that soon it’ll turn into a bruise. “You let him,” Sam says, and Dean looks--actually panicked. Sam squeezes his arms, rocks him a little against the door. “You let him.”

He does. Eager, like a puppy thrilled that its master came home. Dean stares back and forth between Sam’s eyes, mouth half-open waiting for an excuse to come--but there’s no excuse, they both know it, because Sam’s not deaf and he’s not blind and Dean was just in the shower, too, and there’s a mark on his shoulder, and Sam leans forward in raw stupid hope and kisses Dean. Clumsy--too much force, and their teeth clack--but he pushes in, pins their hips together, holds Dean tight, and realigns their mouths right and licks in. Dean breathes shock, doesn’t participate, and Sam tastes inside--beer, but--whiskey, too--and they haven’t had whiskey, not for weeks, and that means--that means--

Dean flinches--licks at him, too--gets his hands up and pushes at Sam’s ribs and breaks their mouths apart. Sam pants at him, an inch away. Dean’s eyes are bright, wide, his lips wet. “Sammy, what are you doing?” he says, like that’s not fucking obvious.

Sam licks his lips, tastes that phantom flavor. He lets Dean’s arms go and slides down his sides, to his hips, and presses forward until his knee’s between Dean’s knees--that open space. Space that’s maybe already been filled tonight, and the thought makes Sam’s gut lurch. Sloppy seconds. “You gonna let me, too?” he says. Dean’s hand splays against his stomach, holding, while his face goes slowly and deeply red. Sam ducks in, kisses his mouth soft and brief. Dean inhales sharp and his face, when Sam pulls back again, looks somehow dazed. Like soft isn’t what he expected. “We’re supposed to take care of each other. You and me.”

“Sam,” Dean says, rougher, and Sam cups his face in both hands and kisses him, soft, and again, and on the third Dean makes a weird small noise and holds Sam’s waist, fingers digging in, clutching and desperate. Yes, Sam thinks, groaning--yes, Dean touching him--yes, he thinks, at the car driving off into the night--because he’s Dean’s but Dean is his, and maybe with this, finally, he won’t be anyone else’s.

[teacup-crow]

The Diplomats, Part One

Part 3 of my Carena-in-the-future series is out now! This is the first of two chapters because it got too long. Check out the rest of the series here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019146

Carena is sent on a mission with sworn Fort Canton enemy, Joe. ZRS4 spoilers, very minor S5-6 spoilers. CW childhood trauma, explosions

“Wye aye! It’s “Just Caz”! Or should I say, Princess Carena Skeet herself?”

Joe Garron, Fort Canton’s Runner Thirty-Seven, was clearly equipped for a long expedition. There was no mistaking his stupid freckled face or grating accent, and she’d unashamedly attempted to kick those big gerbil-like teeth in before in a scrum that had got so bad Janine had banned inter-settlement rugby for the foreseeable future. Ever since their first meeting, there had been a mutual distrust, and they’d spent every training exercise since trying to one-up each other, usually egged on by his crowd of leering mates.

“Oh, fuck no,” Caz said, and turned on her heel. “This was not the deal.”

“This was absolutely the deal,” Dr Myers reminded her over comms. “You and a Fort Canton representative are going together to the conference and doing some reconnaissance on the way.”

She remembered the conversation, of course she did. Her foster father was in work boots and a duffle coat, mismatched with the nice tablecloth they’d got out for the King, hands held out to her, saying:

“I could have asked any of my kids. I’m askin’ you because you’re just like me, Caz.”

Years ago that might have pacified her, but now she was adamant. “You can’t expect me to go away for a whole month with people I don’t even know! I’ve got a life here!”

“Thought you always wanted to ‘get out of this dump’.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not a kid anymore. And it’s… it’s… Abel’s not so bad.”

She’d stood up to refill her mug of tea from the pot. He suddenly seemed quite small and old to her, although he couldn’t be more than forty. When had that happened?

“I can’t make you -” he’d broken off. “Well, technically I probably can make you, but I won’t do that. I’ll be honest, I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but it’s about the symbolism of the whole thing apparently. Princess and that. And you’ll get to see the country, make somethin’ of yourself.”

“If the job’s about talkin’ to people, you could send Naveen, or Lilly, or even Jade-”

“They’re not Runners. You’re the one with trainin’, and the most likely person that Fort Canton would approve being out with in the field. And again, it’s more about the… other mission, than the conference.”

“So you don’t want me to go because I’m most like you, then?”

“Caz,” Jamie had sounded tired. “I’ll say again: you don’t have to do this. I can ask Naveen, and Janine will send a Runner with him. But Christ, it would make our lives easier, and I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

In the present, Joe winked at her.

“I’m not going with him!” She hissed into the mic. “He’s a knob !”

“Joe is the Runner Fort Canton has chosen, and they clearly trust him, just like we trust you. There’s a huge amount of responsibility on your shoulders now, Carena. The King and Abel need you. Are you going to let us down?”

Carena growled, and stomped towards him. “If you can’t manage to call me Caz, Runner Ten will do.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, your royal highness,” he bowed. Carena’s first act of diplomacy was not punching him right then and there. “Should we get going? It’s only 10K to the first rest point.”

She immediately began to run, not checking to see if he was keeping in step. To her irritation, he saw that coming.

***

The diplomats were tasked with visiting several key settlements on the route to the conference in London, “meeting with young community representatives to work out their priorities in rebuilding Britain, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah”. Carena had accidentally zoned out during most of Janine’s brief.

Their other mission was to gather information on a new, particularly nasty fringe group who’d been undermining the uneasy truces Abel and Canton had formed, dragging up muck from years gone and causing chaos all over southern England. Most reports said the group members were young - younger than Carena, too young to even remember a life before zoms. “Oh, you’ve never heard of Lord of the Flies, have you? Well, imagine if Peter Pan and the Lost Boys were, ah, cannibalistic”, Janine had put it. Carena was definitely listening at that point.

On the upside, the mission was a chance to really see the country. On the downside, this involved a lot of walking. And talking, at least on Joe’s behalf. He never seemed to stop, telling her meandering stories about his fiance Emily and long pieces of Fort Canton gossip Carena couldn’t care less about, even as they wandered through the woods they’d been warned about the most.

“Keep it down, will you? And keep an eye out for traps. God knows what they’ve got.”

“I know what I’m doing! Unlike you lot, we actually train our Runners properly.”

Carena couldn’t help but laugh at that, incredulous. “Abel are the heroes of the apocalypse, your lot are just two-bit second-rate cowards.”

“Oooooh, feisty! But you’re not so heroic now, are you? The whole town bowing to everything your dad and his government says?”

The goading alongside the days of nonstop talking was too much, and Carena snapped, a particularly nasty snippet of hearsay coming to the forefront of her mind. It was rolling out of her mouth even as Dr Cohen scolded her for it in her head. Gossip is a sin for a reason.

“Well, what about your mum? Think you’re so much better than me and my dad, but where’s she?”

“Ten, I’d shut it if I were you.” All the laughter dropped from Joe’s face now, replaced with a seriousness she’d never seen from him before.

“Because I’ve heard all sorts of stuff about her. Fort Canton people all have big mouths. I heard she’s crazy . Lives with Kytan in the madhouse, don’t she?”

“Don’t you fucking talk about me mam!” Joe raised his fists and stepped towards her to the click of an IED.

The two of them paused for just a moment, the boy’s face paling before he screamed: “RUN!”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted, and he dived after her for a few seconds before the explosion threw them to the ground, ears ringing, shrapnel splintering through the air towards them.

***

Carena woke up. Her head sang out. Everything was fuzzy, slightly unreal, drifting in and out of reality. There was a heavy blanket on top of her. Oh. She must have the flu again, Dr Cohen piling on the duvets. Hopefully, someone would bring her a glass of water soon, because her mouth tasted dusty, bloody. Bloody?

She’d bit her tongue. Her headset whistled static - the explosion must have knocked the frequency. Explosion?

Suddenly, she was thrown into the present. Not a blanket on top of her, but big Joe bloody Garron. Joe bloody… lifesaving Garron. Joe, her only shield from the piercing rain of nuts and bolts and screws.

“Thirty-Seven? Thirty-Seven! Joe!”

To her relief, he groaned, and rolled to one side. She crawled out from underneath him.

His backpack had protected his head and neck somewhat, but his legs where he’d rolled up his walking trousers were peppered with wounds and shards of scrap metal. He whimpered as he breathed, conscious despite his best wishes.

“Joe, we have to move. If they can set one trap like that, this whole thing is a trap. We’re both in our uniforms. If they hate Abel and Fort Canton, who knows what they’ll do with us!”

“I know,” he hissed. “I just, I dunno how far I can get.” He began to unbuckle his rucksack. “Take my bag. At least they won’t get any supplies out of it.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“You can’t.... you can’t carry me, I’m two stone heavier than you… and the mission - we need info on these little bastards…”

“ Fuck the mission, Runner Thirty-Seven! They’re cannibals! Get up. Now .”

“Got my gun. I’ll take a few of them out.”

“Come on, please!”

His tone and resolve barely wavered as the voices of approaching people began to echo through the woods. “Was an honour to serve with you.”

Carena grabbed his bag and held her hand out to pull him up. The voices were growing more distinct, and chilling. They were very childish, but the words were not.

“What are you gonna do with ‘em, boss?”

“Going to cut them into little pieces, see ‘ow they work.”

“Gonna cook ‘em!”

“Gonna do it slow, find out if they know anythin’ interesting, first.”

“Look, if you won’t get up for me, get up for Emily. She don’t deserve to lose you.”

Whether it’s this, or the savagery of the talk of the approaching kids, it was hard to know for sure, but Joe nodded, and through gritted teeth, got to his feet with a cry.

“Hold my hand. Don’t let go. Just put one foot in front of another. You can die when I’ve got us to safety.”

***

The campfire crackled and spat. Joe poked at it absently, the only evidence of Carena dabbing antiseptic on the last of his cuts the slight tightening of his jaw. Dr Cohen had been offering medical instructions over her headset from the minute they got to a secure building - Joe’s headset was unfortunately busted for good.

“Dr Cohen said to try and clean you up but not to take any of it out. We need to get you to a friendly settlement where they can do it properly. Abel’s identified one only eight miles or so off course. Barton Mound. They’re small, but they have a doctor, and maybe somethin’ stronger for the pain than two paracetamol and this shitty campfire tea.”

The boy smiled weakly. She started on the bandages.

“She must be important to you, this Emily.”

“Well, she’s the girl I’m gonna mar… oh no you don’t!” Joe stopped abruptly, dropping his stick and warming his hands over the flames.

“Oh no I don’t what ?”

“I’m savvy now, see.” Carena stared up at him. “Look, if you get me talking about me girl back home, ten minutes later I’ll wind up dead in your arms. It’s a tale as old as time, but I’m no redshirt.”

“Oh, you’re funny ,” she rolled her eyes, pretending she knew what a redshirt was.

“I do my best. But aye, my Emily’s a gem. She’s so smart. An engineer, you know. She designed this new way of harnessing solar power to heat - OW, TEN! What was that for?”

Carena had pulled the bandage a little too tight. “Talkin’ about your girl back home,” she said, mock-sweetly. “Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?”

“Maybe not,” he laughed, and rubbed at his mouth. “Least I’m too pathetic for you to punch me right now. Never forgot you have a mean right hook.”

“Well, I do a lot of fightin’.”

“You got a girl? Or, uh, guy?”

Carena snorted. “Nope. You tryin’ to get me killed now, Thirty-Seven?”

“Someday, Ten. Someday.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are. Shut up and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be hard going.”

Half the time in Abel, she was desperately trying to find peace and quiet. Now, it was almost too silent. She tried to focus on the crackling of the fire, Joe shifting as he stoked the flames, and was almost relieved when he started chattering again.

“I’m sorry for takin’ the piss out of your title. I was thinkin’, how’s it even gonna work, anyway? Succession and all? With sixteen of you?”

“Lots of games of Rock, Paper, Scissors?” Carena sighed. “We don’t really know. People like havin’ a figurehead, but there’s no precedent for any of this. Hopefully Parliament will just abolish the monarchy or sommat.”

“Don’t fancy it?”

“You seen all Jamie’s had to put up with?”

“Fair point. You know, I’d quite fancy meself as a King. Think I’d suit a crown?”

“Your head’s too big to fit one.”

“Ouch, Ten! I’m wounded !”

“Yeah. Which is why you should be asleep.”

“You have a horrible bedside manner.”

“That’s why I’m a Runner, not a Medic,” she snarked back. “Funny, though. My Molly’s great in a crisis; she would be a much better help to you right now. Even little Sara’s probably picked up more about doctorin’ than I have.”

“Molly your girl?”

“No!”

“Huh. You said her name like she might be, ‘s all.”

“You’re about to feel my right hook again, injured or not. Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Shutting up, ma’am. Going to sleep now, ma’am.”

He did drift off shortly, sleeping in fits and starts when he woke from the pain. Carena sat with her back to him, a baseball bat in her hands, watching the night. Finally, she let herself cry.

***

The next morning, Joe looked paler. She made another cup of tea and crumbled more of their painkillers into it, hands and knees itching from her own grazes, her skin burning where the straps of her rucksack rubbed.

“Mornin’, Caz.” He managed a bit of his stupid grin. “Think we can justify eatin’ the jelly cubes yet?”

The nicest rations were tucked in the top of her pack. Without a word to the contrary, she pulled them out and unwrapped the foil, breaking off some strawberry jelly and handing it to him.

“The water don’t run in this house any more, unfortunately. We’ve got a couple litres left. Just got to hope this settlement is happy to see us.”

“Who wouldn’t be happy to be treated to the sight of us two?”

“People with eyes, brains and limited medical supplies of their own, prob’ly.”

His laugh was dry. “Ever the optimist, you.”

“Look, about yesterday. I’m sorry for what I said about your mum. My own big mouth got us into this.”

“‘S okay. It’s true. She is… she isn’t right in the head. Moonchild syndrome, a really bad case of it. Doesn’t remember me half the time. Not so great when she does.” He swallowed, and began to stamp out the last embers of the fire - they’d both slept with their shoes on, ready to go, and the pain of it seemed to be some distraction. “I was ten when she disappeared, and when she came back, she didn’t remember Dad, or baby Rosie either. They’d both died in the outbreak, it was always just us, and she was on the verge of madness for that but… that woman pushed her over the edge.”

“Joe…”

The boy continued, almost robotically, checking his gun without looking up at her.

“She was so confused, and it made her angry, and she used to take… well, I was right there, so... it’s not like anyone was paying much attention...” he trailed off, bit his lip in embarrassment. “Eventually she got convinced I’d gone grey too, tried to strangle me the same way she strangled Rosie. Skipping rope. God knows how she got hold of one, the sight of them always upset her... They wanted to kick her out of the town, let her fend for herself, but I… I begged them not to. So they locked her up instead, hid her from the Ministry till Kytan started helping people with Moonchild syndrome and they could palm her off on him.”

“Mate,” Carena said, buckling her pack, feeling her cheeks redden. “I dunno what to say.”

“C’mon, let’s move. You talk, for once. I need to think about something that’s not me legs.”

At least on the open road, traps were easier to spot. Carena racked her brain for a happy story, some way to brighten the mood.

“Okay, so… one time, me and my siblings tried to bake Dad a cake...”

They’d been really little, still living at the fire station. Archie was alive - she can remember the swish of the woman’s blonde hair against her cheek as she picked her up for a cuddle, how her voice sounded, all light and sing-song. “Now children, I am going upstairs for only ten minutes, just to have a shower. Be very good and we can go to the lake later! If you see zombies, ring the fire bell. ”

Jamie had gone mental at her later for even leaving them that long, but he was out picking up supplies from a military copter drop. In ten minutes, Naveen and Lilly had managed to coat themselves and half of the other children in flour. Jasper, somehow, had egg in his hair. Carena was sitting on the counter, decadently eating butter with a spoon and directing the scene. Archie had just laughed, and sprayed them all down with one of the hoses, and the cake-making fiasco turned into a giant water fight.

“Even the dog got involved!”

Joe grinned. “Sounds like a nice day.”

“It was,” Carena said, her voice a little softer than usual. “When I think back to that year, it’s all sunlight. Wasn’t perfect, ‘course. Archie died a few weeks after, and Jasper got turned. And… well, when Dad found out he was King he went to London for good.”

“That must’ve been hard. Him leaving like that, after you lost so many people.”

“He didn’t have much of a choice. But I didn’t always understand that, like.”

She’d been inconsolable for hours, and decided that night in her bunk that if she wasn’t good enough to make anyone stay, she would never trust them to.

“North-east, this settlement, aye?”

“Lead on.”

***

Barton Mound was a settlement of a few scraggly hilltop farmhouses, ten or eleven families surrounded on all sides by a barbed wire fence and only one gun turret. Joe and Carena both glanced at each other in distaste - it was hardly secure. Still, they had a medic and a well, and that wasn’t nothing.

Joe had got very quiet the last few miles, and Carena snuck worried looks at him as he slowed from an almost-jog to a walk to little more than a shuffle. If they were ambushed now by humans or zoms - which were unlikely but not impossible - they’d be in for it.

As they approached the makeshift gate, a woman holding a broom like a lance peered down at them.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“You should have had word of us in advance? Caz, Abel Runner Ten. This is Canton Thirty-Seven.”

Joe waved, and slumped down against the gatepost.

“He’s been better. It’s his legs, they’re full of shrapnel, and-”

The woman tightened her grip on the broom, a mild note of panic in her voice. “Kids, was it?”

“Yeah…”

“You’d best get in, quickly. Can you walk a bit farther?”

Joe grimaced, and nodded, following after her.

“Dr Renwick should be able to help him. Then you’ll have to get out of here.”

“‘Scuse me?” Carena bristled.

“Listen, those kids… it sounds ridiculous, but they’re savage. They… they won’t be happy you got away from them. They don’t like to leave the woods, but they’ll look for you.”

“Did they take one of your people?”

The woman ignored Joe’s question, but added: “We’re just trying to live in peace with everyone, all right? We don’t want to draw them on us, and we don’t want to anger your leaders either ‘cause… well, if Abel Township wanted us dead, they’d stop at nothing to do it.”

“That’s not the sort of thing we do-“ Carena began, then realised the woman didn’t care, and wouldn’t believe them even if she did.

Dr Renwick was a tall, imposing person with a serious, strict demeanour. They sighed at the state of Carena’s attempt at field dressings, and shooed her out of the hospital (really, a converted downstairs bedroom of an old family home) with a wave of a bony hand. So the girl sat on the bottom of the staircase and rummaged through her pack, finding a few tins of rice pudding and fruit to offer in gratitude to the residents who watched her with interest and fear, surveying her like a curiosity. She scowled.

“I won’t be long,” she’d promised Molly in the kitchens, the day before she left. “A month, tops. I’ll be back well before Sara’s ninth.”

“That is long, ” her best friend had replied, hands tightening on the scrubbing brush. “How do those cooks manage to burn the stew onto every pan?”

“Stop changin’ the subject, Moll. I know you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you-”

“You are. You volunteered for kitchen duty to try and avoid my last night. And you’re actually not smilin’ at me for once.”

Molly snorted, and splashed her with soap suds. “Not like you to notice. Will you get on and dry these dishes? I’m running out of surface space.”

“I don’t want to go. Dad and Janine, they…”

“I don’t care, Caz. You have to do your duty, I get it. I just… I’m going to miss you. I know you know what it’s like, being left.”

“Yeah. Someone left me to starve in a town full of twisted soldiers.”

The younger girl swang round in a swirl of indignant blonde curls. “Carena, I was a child-“

“So was I. So was I, Molly!” The glasses clinked as she dried them too fiercely; she felt her breath get sharp and hot, like she was losing control of the conversation, losing control of the situation. She took another, and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know there was nothing you could do. But I swear, I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll talk to you on comms whenever I can.”

All she wanted was to talk with her right now, to not be surrounded by suspicious faces, to be thinking about anything except the pain in Joe’s eyes.

***

The settlement couldn’t spare antibiotics, but they did have codeine, and that had already helped bring the cheer back to Joe’s face. “Just please keep the wounds clean,” the doctor grumbled. “I’d advise you to stick to the roads.”

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to pick you up, Thirty-Seven?” Joe’s operator was at the Abel comms desk, and Carena was relaying all of her messages through a bad impression of her accent.

“And miss out on all the fun? Not a chance! Give me that headset, Caz.” He snatched it. “Nadia, I am fine. Tell Emily I’m fine!”

“How much metal did you get out of his legs?” Carena asked out of curiosity as Joe regaled the operator with tales of his heroism.

“Let’s just say an airport scanner would have had a field day,” Renwick smirked, and then at the girl’s blank expression: “Twelve larger pieces. The rest are parts too miniscule to risk removing. He’s pocketed the shards as ‘souvenirs of the time he saved a Princess’. Which you didn’t tell us, by the way.”

“Oh does he ever stop,” Carena growled, and pulled her fellow Runner’s bag straps. “Come on, let’s go if we’re going.”

“Onward! Thanks for the assistance, Doc!”

“If you tell anyone else I’m a Princess I’m puttin’ all that shrapnel back ,” she threatened.

“Oooh, I’m quaking!”

It was only when they got outside the house that Carena realised the day was too quiet. The residents had stopped milling about, leaving various jobs around the farmstead half-abandoned. And there, clinging onto the gates-

Children. Filthy, hissing, angry children, armed with a nasty assortment of blades.

“Dr Renwick-“

The doctor had already slammed the door. She looked around desperately for the woman who’d brought them in, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“They’ve sold us out,” she cried. Joe swore.

“We’re surrounded, the way out is blocked. Any ideas, Nadia, Sam?”

One of the kids rattled the gates, lisp-singing through gap teeth. “Foxy-Loxy get out of den before I count to ten!”

“Not a bleeding chance,” Joe muttered. “Okay. Sam sees an exit on the other side of the settlement, but we’ll have to be quick. Nadia’s suggesting… oh, no way, I’m with Sam, I’m not throwing a grenade at the little shits, Nadi! Yes, I know they tried to kill me, but there’s a line!”

“Fort Canton, noble as ever,” Carena quipped.

“Shut up, you’d be the first to try and blow them up.”

She doesn’t bother denying it. “Okay. That exit.”

“He says it’s risky, but there’s a gap in their fence. Behind the toolshed. Run for it in three, two, one, NOW!”

For the second time in as many days, she ran for her life, the sound of childish war cries in her ears as Joe dragged her through the gap. Over the hill, rounding a corner, trying to find their way onto a trail.

“Barton Mound just cut their CCTV! Sam’s camera feed’s gone!”

“Check your four O’clock!”

He turned and fired, aiming to miss, to warn. “Behind you!” She did the same at her six.

“Ha-ha, you can’t get us, you can’t get us!”

“We’re going to get you!”

“That grenade is fast becomin’ a better option!” Carena yelled.

“An option neither of us will be able to live with! DUCK!”

A knife clipped her ear as it whizzed past. “Thirty-Seven, this is mental!”

“I’m on a lot of painkillers right now, Ten, and even I’m aware!”

“The two of us are the fastest Runners they got,” she reminded him as well as herself. “We can do this.”

They’d reached the bottom of the hill, and met a twisting country road with a few burnt-out cars. The pavement pushed back harder than the grass, giving her purchase, just like the track at home. Okay. She leant forward. Faster, faster, faster.

Then her lungs decided to freeze.

“Did we lose ‘em?” She asked, not daring to look behind her.

“Think we lost ‘em. There’s a back of a truck here where we can… Caz, your lips are blue. Caz?”

***

Someone pushed her inhaler into her mouth. She took a grateful puff of medicine.

“How many is it of the brown one, Dr Myers?” The boy said distantly. “Okay, got it.”

She found herself propped up in the back of a large truck, lit up by torchbeam. Above her, Joe’s moon-like face looked frightened. She’d never seen that expression on him before. Another puff.

“That’s it, Caz. Just keep breathing.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Think you forgot how for a minute there.”

She reached out for his hand and squeezed his fingers, her own tinged with blue. Thank you.

“We’re only a few days out from London now, Dr Myers, it’s closer than home. We may as well finish the journey and head back in the convoy. Oh, Caz, she wants to know what you think. Can you talk?”

Carena nodded, taking a few more grateful gulps of air and finally grabbing her headset back.

“Dr Myers… Sam?”

“We’re both here,” Dr Myers replied, her tone flooded with relief. “How are you doing, Carena?”

“I’ve… been better. But Joe is right. We’ve visited… four out of the six settlements… and we know more about the militants now.”

“You’ve more than done enough,” Sam said gently. “Those children are better armed and more… persistent than we anticipated. We could send reinforcements-”

“It’s… faster for us to keep going... we’ll rest in London for a while. We can do it. We’re a good team, Joe and me. And two people can hide better.”

“If you’re sure. Joe’s injuries are susceptible to infection, and your asthma-”

“We can do this,” she said, determined not to wheeze. “We’re not going to let you down ‘cause of some kids.”

Sam sighed. “Cannibalistic kids! Sometimes, Maxie, I miss the zoms. Don’t you?”

“Can I... talk to Molly?” Carena asked over the sound of Dr Myers’ incredulous splutter.

“I’ll get her after school,” Sam promised. Carena closed her eyes. “She misses you.”

“I know.” The tight-closed truck, the pervading sweat and damp, the thought of the snarls on those faces. It’s all such a contrast to the homely atmosphere of Abel, fields and understanding and space to scream. A lump comes to her throat. “I miss her too.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

Reduced Sentence

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Rating: Teen and Up 

Word count: 3.5K

Part I, Part II

This is the unexpected Part II of Kitten from Hell. Can be read as a standalone fic, but it’s more fun to read Part I before this... 

Summary: The Kitten from Hell returns to torment him, and Loki's partner doesn't believe that he has the ability to communicate with animals.

Warnings: Swearing, a little smut (but no sex)

A/N: I was texting @deckerstar-trash​ about how wonderful it would be to talk to our pets and this happened...

She was drifting in and out of sleep, conscious one minute to her dreamlands the next. Next to her was the pup that took Loki’s place in his absence. She was afraid of sleeping in the living room all alone. They had tried to train her, but she regressed when Loki was called on an urgent mission to an unknown, secretive part of Asgard. The moonlight illuminated the pup, highlighting every detail of her soft fur. She absentmindedly caressed her fur and proceeded to slip back out of consciousness with a loving hand on the creature. 

They were the perfect picture of tranquility until a loud thud jerked her awake. It was followed by a whispered string of swear words. Still laying on her stomach, she moved herself to the edge of the bed, feeling for the baseball bat she always kept there. In her sleepy daze, however, she forgot to ensure Wiggle’s safety. He had somehow gotten out of the bed with his tiny, helpless, puppy legs and ran straight to the living room where the intruder was. She no longer had the option to wait for the right time to take the intruder by surprise. 

“Wiggle, hey! Did I wake you up, buddy?” 

The joyous barks, if not for the familiar voice, informed her that she had nothing to worry about. She huffed in annoyance at being woken up, abandoned the baseball bat and returned her limbs back under the warmth of her duvet. If he had woken up her last night in a similar fashion, she would have definitely used the weapon on him. Luckily for him, she had finally gotten some rest that day and hence not in a bad enough shape to destroy anyone who disrupted her beauty sleep. 

“Shh, shh! We must not wake her up,” Loki whispered, immediately quieting down the excited dog. 

It took a while for the two to come to bed. It warmed her heart when she noticed how careful Loki was to not wake her up as he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into his side of the bed. Her schedule was pretty erratic and he was always considerate to not disturb her when she rested. He took her hand that laid in between them and played with her fingers. For a man of enormous strength, he was incredibly gentle when he touched her. Loki’s comportment conveyed his yearning for her at having been deprived of her touch for so long, yet it somehow managed to show his considerate side as he restrained himself from inconveniencing her. Already tired of having let her fingers be still all this while, she reciprocated by entwining his with her own. Fingers interlocked with hers instinctively even before realisation struck him. 

“Hey,” she breathed in her still sleepy daze, continuing playing with his hand. Like being sprayed on with water, she was rudely brought to full attention by the God who pulled her to his side of their large bed. He crawled under the duvet and let his fingers slowly creep from her shoulder right to her hand. The tip of his pointed nose along with his warm breath on her neck combined to send a shiver down her spine when he nuzzled her. Early on in their relationship, his blatant breathing in of her scent made her shyly bury her face in her palms, but they were way past all that now. 

“You’re awake,” he said, his lips close enough to her skin for her to feel them on her as he spoke. 

“Barely…” 

“Did His Highness Wiggle Wagglesworth wake you up?” 

She laughed softly, still finding their Corgi’s name too funny. “No, it was you who woke me up, Your Highness Loki Odinson, Prince of throwing things loudly to awaken his girlfriend.” 

“My apologies, dear… Is forgiveness on the table?” 

“No way.” 

“Not even if I told you what was in the suitcase that woke you up? Not even if contains my armour that you found ‘hot as fuck’ when you went through old paintings of me? Hmm?” 

Her breathing quickened with memories of seeing him in an old armour that he didn’t use anymore- apparently it had gone out of fashion two decades ago. But, she desperately wanted to see him wear it just for her eyes. It was in no condition for him to wear when she asked him to and she had forgotten about it until now. 

He nipped her neck and she yelped before she involuntarily attempted to elbow him. It was unsuccessfully, as he was still holding her hand. 

“You could persuade me for a reduced sentence,” she said softly, employing a sultry tone. It made her cringe a little and she was anxious that he might laugh in her face, but his response conveyed otherwise. 

“I could…” 

She reverted to a normal, non-sexual tone to burst his bubble. “Yeah, tomorrow. With the armour on.” 

Tired from bifrsot travel, he gave in to her and their cozy duvet.

The next morning, Loki had singlehandedly completed all their chores and enthusiastically dressed himself in the old armour that managed to attract his partner’s attention. He didn’t know what she saw in it- or him, really- but he decided that whatever she wanted, she shall have. The day she showed interest in it and disappointment when he revealed that he no longer wore it, he rushed to his staff and ordered for it to be recreated to fit him with his changed dimensions. Initially, he waned to save it for a special occasion like a birthday or an anniversary, but then he was separated from her for a month, and decided that there was no occasion more special than when they were both unbelievably horny for each other. 

Clipping the cape on, he turned around to check himself out on the mirror. Goddamn, he looked good in it. His woman had great taste.

She stepped out of the bathroom, clad in his silk robes, when their doorbell rang. 

“I’ll get it,” he announced as he more or less stomped his way to their door. The robes could scare unsuspecting Midgardians, but he would rather a bunch of fools be frightened by him than see his woman look the way she did in his robes. Behind the door was not a poor unsuspecting Midgardian, but two.

Steve and Bucky stood with Fuzzy von Fluffykins and his luggage in hand. 

“I was not aware that he was coming over, today,” he said pointedly at the kitten who was encased in a sock. 

“We are so sorry, Loki. Our surrogate went into labor and Fuzzy’s sitter isn’t picking up our calls. I’m sorry to impose, but could you please, please take care of her until we come back,”  Bucky rambled. 

He should slam the door in the couple’s face. He did not like it one bit that they were taking advantage of his partner’s kindness and dumping their responsibilities on her. If they knew they could not handle caring for an animal, especially one so horrid, they should never have adopted one. But, they genuinely seemed to be in a tough predicament this time. So, he rolled his eyes and held his arms out for the creature as he prepared himself emotionally to deal with the insolent little thing. The men apologised again, thanked him, asked him to thank her and left in a hurry. 

He wasn’t exactly the ‘sex on legs’ she described him to be in the armour when she finally saw him in it. Who would be, when holding Fuzzy and his worn out bag of toys and cat food? The ties of her robe was undone, revealing her lingerie, and she was ready for their much anticipated activities. Her smile dropped in confusion when she saw Fuzzy with him. She definitely had a lot of questions, but it seemed she was not interested in any of them. 

“Okay, you’re going to set him down on that cushion and get your cute ass to the bedroom real quick.” 

“Oh, good!” He breathed in relief as he did what he was told and followed her into their room. It was an ego booster to know that she was attracted to him even after seeing him holding the dumpster cat.

He locked the door behind him as Wiggle had the bad habit of walking into the room whenever they were about to do it. It was as though she knew what they were going to do and stopped them intentionally. Maybe, she felt that they were trying to make a baby and it would result in reduced love and attention for her. So, she would follow them inside and stare at them. Loki had seen horrible things in his life that other hadn’t, but he had to confess that there was nothing creepier than staring into the eyes of you puppy when you’re having sex. 

“I have missed you so much…” he whispered, inching closer to her and backing her up against the wall. She reached out a hand, running her fingers over the bends and curves of the design on his armour. She traced her index finger on one such curve, inching slowly to his collar yet not touching him. As she was taking in the novelty of the armour, he moved her robe out of the way as he let his fingers slither to her back. Her breath hitched when he unclasped her bra, but it did not stop her from her admiration of him. 

She cupped his cheek and he hummed in satisfaction as he relaxed into her touch, his eyes closed on their own accord as his touch-starved body greedily lapped up her affections. He was finally home.

“You’re so beautiful, Loki.” 

Earlier, he believed that someday his heart would stop melting when she so openly appreciated him, but it was not today. It felt just as wonderful as the first time she ever told him that.

She saw the effect her words had on him, even when his eyes were closed. A whole beautiful God stood in front of her, wearing outdated clothes just because she asked for it, and he was all hers. He pulled against his body, and she pressed herself closer to him, the metal of his armour cold against her barely there lingerie. 

She looped an arm around his neck and stood on her tip toes to reach his lips while he carefully bent down to do the same. He was so gentle with her, so mindful of himself to not hurt her with his helmet. When their lips finally connected, it was bliss. 

Their long time apart had escalated their need for each other. Slow, soft pecks quickly turned into more as they pushed against each other in a desperate attempt to get closer to each other than they already were. Her robes lay forgotten and she might have even stepped on it a few times. Loki was awfully protective over his Asgardian silk clothing, but even he paid it no heed. Her hands hungrily roamed his body as she looked for a clasp or button or whatever the fuck she needed to undo to get to his body. She yanked his helmet off and threw it at the bed, grinning as she threaded her fingers through his soft hair and pulled, making him grit his teeth. In turn, she expect him to be more rough with her, but he ceased his ministrations abruptly. His grip on her loosened and he listened intently to something. 

His eyebrows furrowed and he focused on something intently. “Did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” 

“The cat,” he said, untangling himself from her body. 

“No! Why are you ever listening to the cat now?” She asked, panting between breaths. 

“He said something!” 

“Oh, who cares what he meows-“ 

“Shhhh!” He said, raising his index finger. 

“What the fuck, dude!?” She whispered, confused by his sudden unusual behaviour. 

He gasped as though she said something to offend him, but with a delay of several seconds. It was almost as though it was a response to something said by someone else.

“That is it! He’s crossed the line!” Loki exclaimed before he angrily stormed out of the bedroom. Losing all hope of getting any, she hooked her bra, put the robe back on and followed him out to see what the fuss was all about. She found him in an intense stare down contest with Fuzzy von Fluffykins who tried to look more imposing than a squishy kitty could ever hope to be. 

“What did you say to Wiggle?” 

Meow

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear, you little demon!” 

Meow

“You are in my home and I will not have you, a useless miniature tiger, mock her under my roof.” 

Meow

“Oh, is that how it is now?” 

This time, the kitten meowed louder and Loki lost his shit. 

“How dare you!?” 

“Okay, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on right now, I’ll- I’ll-” She clearly hadn’t thought through this threat. “Tell me!” 

“He has been taunting and mocking Wiggle. He said she was a poor excuse for a dog, a failure in her basic function to humans due to her inability to protect us!” 

Meow

“It is not like you are of any use to humans! Wiggle here, provides companionship, plays games, fetches the newspaper every morning and she is younger than you are! You, however, are not just a waste of space, but a menace to society!” 

“Loki, that’s so mean! Stop it!” 

“I am not going to stand by and watch our as our puppy is bullied.” As though glad for the empathy, Wiggle cuddled up to his legs and Loki, being the caring pet owner he was picked him up and held him in his arms. The dog whimpered and Loki whispered words of reassurance as he cradled her. 

It seemed that all the non-humans in the room were in on something while she was completely out of the loop. It was exactly how she felt when they were around Thor and the two spoke of life experiences she was not a part of- those that happened before her great grandparents were born- and hence couldn’t understand. 

“He was just meowing! How did you get all that from meowing?” 

“His sounds are just meows to you, but I can understand them.” 

She raised her eyebrows in skepticism. What did he understand?

“Allspeak,” he said, waving his arm dismissively. 

“Wow, Oh My God. Really?” She knew that he could understand the millions of languages of the universe owing to Allspeak, but didn’t know that communicating with other creatures was a part of it.

“Yes,” he said, very casually as though he didn’t just confirm that he could Talk. To. Animals. Forget teleportation and cloning! This was his best ability. She began dreaming of all the things she could do with this special ability of his- she would finally know what dogs were thinking! She could tell everyone what dogs say when they were barking! It would be a blessing to humanity to finally understand what Man’s Best Friend really thought of them. She could- no, wait! 

He was messing with her! It was April Fool’s Day and he was feeding her shit about how he could communicate with animals. Last year, he told Thor that Crocs with socks and all denim outfits were the pinnacle of human fashion . The poor man walked around with no clue about why he was being stared at- more than usual, at least. 

“Okay, ha ha. You fooled me. Now, drop the act and come to bed.” 

“Act? Our puppy is hurt, honey.” He cuddled Wiggle closer to him as though she was out to get their puppy.

She pinched the bridge of the nose and let of a frustrated sigh. “I usually enjoy you April Fool’s Day pranks, but not when it involves you abandoning me after making me all hot and bothered.” 

“You think this is my prank?” He scoffed mockingly, “Oh, please! I have something big planned for tonight- involving mayonnaise and duct tape. Moreover, why would I fake a conversation with that abominable creature when I could choose the obviously favourable alternative of not talking to him.” 

“This is all shady,” She said, shaking her head. There was something going on. The kitten wasn’t even supposed to be here. “Why is Fuzzy even here? Bucky didn’t tell me anything about dropping him off. You set this up!” 

“Once again, woman, why would I intentionally put myself in close quarters with Fuzzy? I let him stay only because James and Steven dropped by with the creature and basically begged me to take care him. Their surrogate called and they had to leave town immediately.” 

“She’s giving birth?” She vaguely recalled Steve saying that the baby was due this month, but had forgotten about it completely.

“I do not recall. I was too focused on getting back to you to think about babies.” 

“I’m going to call them and check.” 

“You don’t trust me?” 

When she didn’t respond, and proceeded to text Bucky, Loki grew disappointed. 

“I’m taking Wiggle on a walk.” He mumbled before he left, still carrying the dog. He didn’t even bother to take Wiggle’s leash. 

After he left, she got the confirmation that Buck and Steve’s surrogate was indeed in labor. She congratulated the couple, changed into comfortable pyjamas and sulked on the couch with the kitten chewing on his toys next to her. She felt bad for not believing Loki when he told her about the baby and texted him her apology, hoping he would come back. She was however met with the ding of his phone which sat on the dining table. He didn’t have the habit of taking his phone with him when he went outside. It was understandable as he was not human and found no need for it, but annoying in situations such as this. 

The doorbell rang and she excitedly ran up to it, but was disappointed to find the wrong Odinson brother. 

“Hello, sister! Is Loki here?” 

“No, he just left, actually. Took Wiggle on a walk.” 

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. 

“Is it something important?” 

“Yes. I came to collect my things. Long back, he stored my gifts for Jane in his pocket dimension. I forgot to get them from him and it’s her birthday next week.” 

“You could wait for him,” she said, gesturing to the sofa. He gave her his usual wide smile and headed to the sofa before he stopped in his tracks. He shrieked a very manly shriek and dragged her, putting her between himself and the sofa.

“Odin’s beard! Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” 

“Oh, Fuzzy? Loki and I are just taking care of him for a while until Steve and Bucky come back.” 

“I have to go, sister!” 

That was so silly! It was like the Odinsons had something against adorable, fluffy kittens. Were cats antagonised in their culture? Did they have a bad shared experience with one? She grabbed him by his wrist and stopped him from leaving. She had to know what this was about.

“It’s okay, Thor! He’s just a lil’ kitty. He won’t hurt you,” she reassured, but the tall, muscley God refused to forsake her as a human shield. She could feel his fear from the tight grip he had on her shoulders.

“He called me a big, dumb idiot with an empty skull the last time I met him!” 

“What? Did Loki put you up to this?” She asked, suspicious of his behaviour. Last year, she was in on Loki’s prank on Thor. So, it was possible that they were pranking her together. 

“No, why would he do that?” 

“Okay, be truthful. Can you actually communicate with animals?” 

“Yes, of course. Allspeak was a compulsory class for us, growing up.” As far as she knew, Thor was not capable of putting up an act for so long without breaking into laughter. He really was telling the truth…

“Shit! I have to go!” 

Thor tried to stop her and said something about being too afraid to be left alone with the creature, but she had no time to listen to him as she hurried out with her phone and purse. 

Thankfully, they had fitted Wiggle with a GPS collar, worried that he might get lost what with his habit of wandering off. So, she didn’t have to look for them everywhere. When she reached the park, she spotted Loki who was now wearing a black shirt and pants- his default when he got changed using magic. He was sat on a park bench while a couple of children played with Wiggle who was having the time of her life with all the attention being directed towards her. Loki constantly had his eyes on the pup, probably anxious that the children might hurt his precious creature. 

She was the first to speak as she sat by him. 

“I’m sorry. I really thought you were pranking me.” 

He turned to look at her, but said nothing. He was still mad at her, but let her loop her arm around his and lean on him with her head on his shoulder, so all wasn’t lost. The physical contact must’ve softened him because he suddenly looked at her and smiled his sweet, boyish smile that others rarely saw. 

“You could persuade me for a reduced sentence.”