#was supposed to only organize the ones on the higher shelf

[aria0fgold]

I said I was gonna organize my clothing storage someday but turns out that someday is today and boi am tired. But at least I finally decreased the quantity (I can finally somewhat reached the top! Somewhat cuz I still need to go on my tiptoes) and rearranged my clothes so the ones that got stuck at the bottom is now at the top!

[lostlegendaerie]

I can't tell if you're genuinely asking for help with floor design, or if you're just venting to the void with a problem- if you're just venting please disregard this message. My parents were hoarders I was left to store their stuff in manageable ways until they slowly collected more. I had some thoughts of what I might do/have done if I were in your shoes while looking at your floorplan Making a model floorplan to move items around without Actually Moving The Items Around is brilliant and an excellent idea, honestly. You might change your mind anyway if you move furniture off of it, but you'll have a much better idea on how to work with your space and will save your arms/back 1a) If you want to just stack boxes in the "HELP" room, put it on the side guests would see less. So if they spend most of their time in the Living Room, put it against that same wall (and vice versa if they spend more time in the dining room). Then a floor lamp or other tall/thin storage unit could get put on the end they'd still see to better hide it from view in the adjacent room 1b) Depending on how much depth there is from the entry way or dining room walls to the wall of the desk+PC area, you could also make a temporary or permanent curtain fixture to hide the boxes behind. The curtain could add color to the room and you could pin art on it. It would also leave everything behind it easily accessible and guests wouldn't see the boxes at all. Maybe buying a tall shelving unit and attaching the curtain to the top level? - Bookshelves/Cubbies with Baskets. Anything that looks presentable can just sit on the shelves, and things that you'd use monthly can be put into a basket on it to still look nice. Maybe the electronics/PC parts could serve as decoration? A small lamp could then sit on top of the shelf to light the room a bit - Alternative to a bookshelf, get a dresser. If the drawers are deep enough you may be able to put boxes right in. Things you use more often in a higher drawer, things you use less often in lower drawers. With a dresser you wouldn't need to decorate any shelves, just the top of it - Vacuum cleaner can honestly just go wherever it fits. As long as it is out of the way with the chord up, and (maybe) empty, it'll look fine. I personally wouldn't have an issue if I saw a vacuum neatly out in someone's house - Depending on what and how big your tools are, they could be stored in your vehicle instead (if you have one). If you need them frequently inside this might not be a good option though. Otherwise I personally feel the same way about tools as a vacuum cleaner: as long as they can be stored out of the way safely, it'll look fine - Put things behind your furniture. If something is thin enough to fit, and you don't use it that often, it can be stored behind the sofa. Those things will be hidden, out of the way, and easily accessible when you do need them. I have my fabric cutting boards stashed there currently - Store things under furniture too. It's a chore to get things from under a bed, but for items you rarely use it gets them out of the way. I store sentimental things I can't let go of, and wrapping paper/gift stuff that I only use a few times a year - A blanket chest or a boxy bench with storage inside will also hide items if you want to add seating in "HELP" - To add lighting you might be able to get some non-christmas lights to wrap around/pin to the stair banister. If I understood correctly, the stairs are furthest from any light source (outside of anything it leads to), so it could add some brightness to "HELP" if you like that style Ultimately this is your home, the place that you're supposed to spend a majority of your life inside of. Eventually you'll be working together seamlessly, but it's not stupid or unreasonable if it's overwhelming currently <3 I wish you the best of luck figuring out a way to organize "HELP" to best suit your needs! Regardless of how you decide to design your space, I hope it becomes 100% you and brings you joy

😭😭😭

This was so kind and so thorough, thank you so much!

I've currently moved my dining room table (which I only ever used for DND) into the HELP room and am using my computer chair as a DM chair and it's working pretty good so far!!!!!

But these tips are INCREDIBLE. Put things behind the sofa!!!!! BRILLIANT!!

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance II

Character: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,149

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Idk why I’ve characterized Albedo as a slob twice now. I guess I just think he’s the kind of person to become so engrossed in his research he just, never takes care of himself or his surroundings.

Also this was supposed to be two people but I procrastinated terribly so… here we are haha. Part three tomorrow.

Albedo

It was the third time this week that you had managed to spill his lab notes all over the floor, and frankly Albedo wasn’t sure if he could deal with it any longer.

“You’ve got a lot of papers strewn around,” you said, tone light and joking as you crouched to gather all the papers up.

“You’re the one that keeps bumping into things,” Albedo mumbled, crouching next to you to make sure that you put things back in order.

Seeing that you were putting things together haphazardly he snatched up the papers, frowning slightly as he went through the papers. Honestly, how could you mess up his system so much? As much as Albedo appreciated your interest in his work you were a Knight of Favonius, not a scientist, and as such your visits seemed to cause havoc more than anything else.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” You asked, exasperation creeping into your tone.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You seem, stressed. If you want I could pick up the papers on the tables and organize.”

“Don’t!”

“Albedo?” You leaned back slightly, as if surprised. For some reason that only made the alchemist more irritated.

“If you do that, you’ll just be creating more work for me. I’m very busy right now, I don’t have time to go back and fix your mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“It’s already enough that you keep spilling things all over the ground.”

“It’s not my fault that you leave your papers everywhere without even trying to keep them organized.”

“They are organized!”

“Well they certainly don’t look organized to me.”

��You just don’t understand. Besides, I’ve managed not to knock everything over.”

“You know, you’re insufferable when you get like this.”

“I’m not any different than usual.”

“I hope you don’t really think that,” you replied, tone clipped.

Standing up you turned towards the door. Though Albedo made a half-hearted call of your name you didn’t react, simply walking out of the room and slamming the door as hard as possible behind you.

Albedo didn’t even think of you the rest of the afternoon. Anger iced over his slight worry, replacing it with a burning sense of resentment. Your sudden departure stung, and, though it was admittedly childish, Albedo found himself determined not to worry about you.

Besides, you were simply an obstacle to his research at this point. Maybe it was better if you went off to cool your head somewhere, then he could finish up his work. That was what usually happened with other people anyways. Apprentices, clients, the occasional wandering alchemist; they all fluttered around him until he couldn’t stand it and then when they inevitably got fed up he’d finish his work. His relationship with you was still new, and though he couldn’t say that you were the same as all those people in his eyes, he really had no reason to think you would react in a different way.

The sun had gone down long before Albedo finally locked up for the night. It had taken him a good forty minutes to reorganize everything that had fallen, though admittedly most of that time was spent in angry silence. Now as Albedo walked down the streets, still busy with night activity, he wondered what might happen when he got home. He certainly wasn’t ready to apologize, even if his tone was a bit curt his words weren’t wrong; but he couldn’t exactly see you apologizing either. It was bound to be a tense evening. One Albedo was certainly not looking forward too.

All the lights were off in the apartment, something that struck Albedo as odd. Walking towards the kitchen he found a piece of paper crumpled up on the kitchen floor, though when he uncrumpled the paper he was met with eraser marks. Letting out a huff of impatience Albedo went to put some water on the stove. So this is how the evening was going to pass; you presumably at a friend’s house, Albedo in stony silence.

“How petty,” Albedo murmured.

He didn’t expect such a show of emotions from you, having come to the conclusion that you were quite the rational sort. Really, this was all too much. He had been in the right after all, even if he had been a bit cold about it. There was no reason to react in such a way. It was this mindset that carried Albedo through the rest of the evening and off to sleep. After all, it was better than the kernel of doubt that rested in the back of his head, that told him he was the one being callous.

You didn’t show up at the apartment or the lab the next day. Albedo buckled down to work, but by midday the irritation and anger that he’d been holding over were replaced by a deep sense of unease. Hurrying home after work he felt panic shoot through him at the sight of your home empty, nothing suggesting anyone had been there in the time he was at work.

It took all of Albedo’s willpower not to run out the door and go look for you. All the anger and irritation he had felt had been thrown out the window, replaced instead with an intense feeling of worry, and of the realization that his actions might bear actual consequences.

Tossing and turning in bed Albedo stared up at the empty ceiling. He had been certain he was in the right, even this morning. You were clumsy, you had been inconsiderate of his work, you were simply stubborn and petty. Now however he replayed your argument, your fight, over and over again. The more he did so the more he became aware of how harshly he’d acted; the more he wished you would simply appear in front of him so he could apologize. He wanted to go after you, wanted to let you know that he genuinely felt bad. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so, to go after you. After all, what if you didn’t want to see him? What if he just made things worse? Once more turning in bed Albedo sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d see you again. Tomorrow he’d make things better.

There was no sight of you tomorrow either. Albedo stood in his lab in stunned silence, heart hammering in his chest as he contemplated what this could possibly mean. Was this it then? Had he messed up that badly?

Staring around him Albedo noticed all the papers scattered this way and that on the tables and the desks. Seized by a sudden urge he scooped them all up, carrying them over to where he kept his files. A part of him jeered that it was too little too late, but still the alchemist didn’t stop until everything was filed away properly. Turning around to look at his desk he collected the dirty mugs and discarded equipment, putting them in the sink before turning around to pick through the no longer needed papers that still lay sprawled around the room. He didn’t stop for lunch, nor did he go to start back up on the experiment he was currently working on. Instead he kept picking up and putting away and rearranging. It was almost a ritual of some sort, and though it brought little relief, at least it finally brought distraction.

Still that distraction was shattered the minute Albedo stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the people of Mondstadt were still wandering around, enjoy the cool summer evening. Staring at the people around him, their eyes filled either with purpose or contentment, Albedo realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t face the empty apartment again. He thought that his anger would last longer, that he might go a week before feeling as if he burning from the inside out; but now he knew that that had been an arrogant, if somewhat funny, assumption. Turning away from the familiar path home he climbed up the steps of Mondstadt. He knew where he needed to go.

Walking up to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters Albedo was met with the sight of Eula, arms firmly crossed in front of her, faced even colder than usual. Hurrying over to your higher-up Albedo felt uncertainty bloom in his chest. Someone this seemed to bode ill.

“Eula?”

“Ah, the Head Alchemist. What do you wish to say to me?”

“Have you seen my partner?” Albedo paused, somewhat unwilling to reveal what had happened. “They haven’t been home for days, and I wondered if you knew where they might be staying.”

The look on Eula’s face was one of pure disbelief. “You, you don’t know what happened?” Her face shadowed over and she seemed to pull herself up. “If I were your partner, I would declare eternal vengeance for your idiocy. I don’t know what you’ve been doing Head Alchemist, but while you were off doing whatever it is you do, your partner was languishing underground.”

Albedo froze, unsure if he’d truly heard Eula right. The Knight tended to be quite flowery after all with her words. Perhaps this was just a metaphor he couldn’t understand.

“I see that it still hasn’t gotten through your head what happened.” Eula sighed, relaxing slightly. “I sent them off to monitor a few Fatui members, as it seems a group had made their way out of Dragonspine and into Windwail. While doing so they attempted to hide in a small crack in the mountains, but there was a steep drop after that onto the next shelf. Thankfully Amber had also been ordered to scout there, or else who knows how long it might have took to realize they were stuck. I just got the report from them, thankfully there was no lasting trauma.”

“W-where are they?”

“At home I presume. Aren’t you their partner?” Eula tilted her head. “Really, perhaps she should declare a need for vengeance.” And with that the Spindrift Knight walked into the Headquarters, leaving Albedo reeling on the step, heart thudding as if he’d just run a hundred miles.

Albedo practically fell down the steps of Mondstadt, so desperate was he to find you, to make sure you were okay. Eula had said that there was no lasting trauma, but what that meant Albedo was completely unsure of. Had you broken anything? Had you been deprived of oxygen? These thoughts catapulted through Albedo’s brain, constricting his lungs and plunging him into a roil of incoherent emotions.

The sight of you standing in front of his lab cause Albedo to stop in his tracks. For a moment the alchemist was overwhelmed by his emotions, switching between dizzying euphoria, terrible guilt, and unending worry. He took a step forward, then another, walking slowly down the stairs, as if in fear that you might disappear or turn away. However instead of turning away when he reached the end of the steps and made his way towards the fountain you let out a sort of shudder, running towards him and throwing your arms around his neck. Albedo wrapped his arms around you in turn, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the sudden proximity, the sudden feeling of once more being able to feel your skin against his. Letting his head drop onto your shoulder Albedo breathed in deeply, centering himself with your presence, grounding himself in the knowledge that the agony of the previous days was finally over.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“For what?” You whispered back.

“For not listening to you, for blaming you, for being cruel.”

“I’m also sorry.”

“Why? I was in the wrong.”

“Well, I just went off without telling you where I was going. I was going to write a note, but I was so angry I erased it.” You tightened your grasp around Albedo. “I wish I could’ve seen into the future. I never would have done something like that.”

“I don’t care about that,” Albedo ran small circles around the small of your back. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No. I’m sorry for not being there, for not being able to help you; for doing nothing while you…” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Pulling back for a moment you cupped Albedo’s face in your palms, studying his expression. Finally you bent over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, breath mingling with his.

Albedo leaned into to kiss you once more, finding that his emotions were blocking out any words he might have been able to say. Everything seemed so surreal, as if he’d been stuck in some awful nightmare that only now faded away. And yet this wasn’t a nightmare, this was reality; and Albedo would have to remember that.

For now though, he only wanted to wipe all the fear and conflict away.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.4

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There is no escape but it doesn’t make staying any easier.

Note: Well, I finally got around to finish the chapter I had half done but we finally get some deliciousness.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You didn’t move as the city streets flashed by. You stayed huddled against the car door; paralyzed and petrified. You couldn’t even look at the man next to you as he kept one hand on the wheel. 

You felt his gaze at every stop and his hand lingered ominously between your seats. You touched your chin where he’d pressed the muzzle; a lump lodged firmly in your throat.

He passed through the gates of his extravagant estate that loomed before you like a pale giant. The engine hushed and his door opened and closed. As he opened yours, you nearly fell out, your seatbelt loose and forgotten. He caught you and pulled up straight.

“On your feet, princess,” he lulled and slung his arm around your shoulders. “You got lots of time to get ready for dinner. I just gotta talk to my chef.” 

He led you up the steps and a man in a dark suit moved to open the door. Peter nodded at him and carried on inside. 

“Any problems, my security is always here to help…” he ushered you towards the stairs, “and I can keep an eye out myself.”

His gaze ventured above you and you turned to follow his attention. You squinted and the nearly imperceptible lens gleamed back at you. The camera was set into the wall sconce and was only obvious if one were looking for it. Your imagination stormed as you wondered how many were scattered throughout the mansion.

“Go,” he nudged you back to him, “upstairs. Our room.” He caressed your chin. “I was saving the surprise but the closet just to the left of the bed. Put on something nice.” He leaned in and pecked your lips. “I’ll expect you in about…” he drew away and checked his watch, “One hour, princess.”

Your eyes began to water as you stared back at him. You nodded and turned away slowly. You grabbed the railing and lifted your foot. You climbed in dread and at the top, you looked back to find Peter still watching you. You shivered and turned down the hallway.

You retraced the steps you’d taken the day before. The bedroom decked in black and white greeted you on the other side of the door. You shut it carefully and hesitated as you faced the room. You crossed to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony and looked out across the vast yard. You’d never felt so empty.

After a moment, you turned back and went to the closet. It was a whole other room hidden behind the bedroom. You stepped inside and looked around at the array of dark suit jackets, pressed pants, and steamed shirts. A shelf of carefully folded socks and ties over a set of six narrow drawers. A bench ran below the higher shelves with polished shoes lined up across them and you sat as brighter colours caught your eyes.

A dozen dresses in varying shades of pink, red, purple, and black, made of sequins, prints, velvets. Below, another cubby with at least six sets of heels and to the right, a glass cabinet of jewelry. You sat forward and held your head in your hands. It was some dystopian romance; twisted and terrifying.

When you found the strength to sit up, you were still trembling. The adrenaline remained as hot as ever. You closed your eyes and saw the gun, heard that awful click. You stood before you lost your will entirely. You took the black velvet dress with the tiny gems set like stars into the fabric.

You changed in silence. The dress was snug and hugged your form perfectly. You took a pair of black heels and bent to shove your toes into the pointed shoes. You stood and considered the diamond necklaces, studded cuffs, and dangling earrings. You didn’t touch any of them as you went back into the bedroom.

You swept into the bathroom and startled yourself in the mirror. You saw the fear, the desperation in your feature. Your face felt brittle. You fixed your hair as best you could. There was a finely organized kit of make-up and accessories nestled on the broad counter beside an electric razor and leather zip-up bag.

You thought of keeping your face bare. You thought of Peter and the rage in his eyes as you came out of the station. If he was disappointed, he would let you know. Appease him, that was all you could do. You reached for the mascara and blinked away your terror.

You weren’t certain of the time when you finished. You went back to the bedroom and looked out again onto the green grass. The gates were closed. A dead end. You couldn’t turn back, you couldn’t bypass it, you had to face it. There was no choice. Peter would get whatever he wanted and it would be easier if you just gave it to him.

You winced as the door opened behind you and you turned to face Peter. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he saw you and he raised a brow. He waved you to him and licked his lips.

“Gorgeous, princess,” he said, “dinner’s waiting for us.”

You tried to smile but your face was stiff and your lips quivered. As you neared him, Peter took your hand and pulled you close. He swayed you against him as he looked you in the eyes. His gaze flicked down to your mouth. He kissed you and purred.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it through dinner,” he whispered as he drew away. “you look delicious.”

You swallowed as you searched for your voice. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He winked and parted, keeping a hold on your hand as he tugged you through the door. Down the hallway and the stairs, across the foyer then through to the dining room. The lights were low and the table was set for two. You sat across from Peter and a man in all black offered you wine.

You shifted awkwardly as you waited for your glass to be poured and then Peter’s. He watched you as the man told him that dinner would be served shortly. You took the cloth napkin and spread it over your lap to keep from fidgeting.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said and you glanced at him. “the staff. Usually just a maid to keep things tidy and the chef for mealtimes. Some hired hands occasionally for the garden and the pool…” He squared his shoulders. “You’ll never have to lift a finger… well, in some contexts.”

You pressed your lips together. You were speechless. How had you gone from the certain doom of the alleyway to the luxury of this ridiculous house?

“You okay, princess?” He asked.

“I…” Your lips parts but you stopped as you heard another enter. 

You waited patiently as covered plates were set down and uncovered with some explanation of the meal you didn’t hear. The server left and you stared at the chicken breast drizzled with some fancy sauce. You raised your eyes cautiously.

“You were going to shoot me. Am I supposed to be okay?” You asked.

He laughed, a soft roll in his throat. “I’ve done a lot worse to others for less.”

“So what? I should thank you?” You gripped the edge of your seat and tried not to show how afraid you truly were.

“Princess, I’ve treated you kindly. Dressed you up, taken you out, made you cum.” He winked and looked you over vulgarly, “all I’m asking is for your loyalty.”

You picked up your fork and looked at your plate. There was no arguing; no choice. Only what he wanted.

“Fine.” You muttered.

“Look, princess, let’s not get into all this right now. Let’s enjoy our dinner,” he said, “As far I’m concerned, the slate is clean. I’ve forgiven, but I won’t forget.”

You speared a green bean and took a bite. You nodded and chewed. Whatever kept him happy, kept you alive.

✨

Your skin was covered in goosebumps as you entered the bedroom. Peter’s hand lingered on your low back and grazed your ass as he shut the door and passed you. You stood, frozen, and watched him move around. He shed his jacket and loosened his tie. His eyes found you with a glimmer.

“Ah, princess, I forgot.” He said as he pulled his tie off completely, “I’m still working on your side of the closet.” He unbuttoned his shirt casually, “You can grab one of my shirts to sleep in… unless you’d rather nothing?”

You shook your head and carefully slipped your heels off. You picked them up and went to the closet. Peter followed you inside as you replaced the shoes in their cubby. 

“Thanks,” you said quietly as you went to the row of shirts and looked them over. 

He came up behind you and ran his hands over your shoulder, sliding the straps down your arms. As they fell limp, he reached out and took a plain white shirt from the bunch. He pressed the hanger to your chest and leaned close. “That should fit you nicely.”

You took the hanger and parted from him. You felt him watching you as you shimmied out of the dress and turned your back to him. You unhooked your bra and quickly buttoned up the shirt over your panties. 

You heard his soft footsteps as he closed in on you. His fingers tickled along the hem of the shirt and delved beneath. He grabbed the side of your panties and tore them down your legs. You flinched and stepped out of them. He gathered up your clothes, one piece at a time, admiring the warmth of your body still radiating from the fabric as he did.

He left you and slowly, you crossed the closet. He dumped the heap into the hamper and turned back as he took off his shirt. He dropped it into the basket without looking and continued to undress. You lowered your head and paced listlessly around the room.

“Lay down, princess,” he said as he came around the bed, “you’ll need your sleep.”

You stopped and peeked up at him. You wordlessly approached the bed from the other side and climbed up after him. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your head against his chest as he leaned against the plush pillows. You shivered and his hand glossed over the curve of your body.

“I already took care of Halle. As far as she’s concerned, you’re spending the night. Not a lie, is it?” He said coolly as his hand moved up and down your back, “and tomorrow, you’ll forget about your work. Call whoever you need but you won’t have time for all that. Not for a while.”

“I… can’t do that,” you breathed.

“You work from home.” He said evenly.”

“How… yeah but that doesn’t mean I don’t have deadlines.”

“Find someone else to pick up the slack. You’ll have time to do so before we arrive.” He said sternly. “You’re clever, you’ll figure it out.”

“Peter, I-- where--”

“Shhh,” he slid his arm out from under you and rolled over to shut off the lamp. He nestled against you again as he turned onto his side. “It’s taking everything I got not to keep you up all night.”

You let him embrace you and closed your eyes. You found it hard to relax as your body remained rigid and your nerves skittered through you. You let out a shaky breath and grasped for sleep. It was your only escape but it seemed just as unlikely as any other.

✨

Peter drove as you held your phone to your ear and listened to Selene rant from the other end. You rubbed your eye socket and yawned as you nodded along with her complaints. She was right, you were leaving her in the lurch and you would owe her, however your debt to the man beside you was more pressing.

“Look, I’m so sorry and I know I’m asking a lot. I promise, I’ll take care of everything else but I just need you to take the rest of my assignments for the week. Yeah, I talked to Melinda, she’s not happy either. And it’s extra pay, please?”

“This is really short notice,” Selene sighed and you heard the tapping of keys.

“Yes, it is, but so was your spring vacay and I covered you, didn’t I?” you pleaded. You felt bad for bringing up the favour but a work relationship hardly mattered against the steel hidden beneath Peter’s jacket.

“Fine, fine, I guess I owe you,” she resigned, “I’ll let Melinda know.”

“Thanks,” the line died abruptly as Selene grumbled again and you swiped away the window.

“Sorted?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly and crossed your legs, leaning heavily on the door as you watched the scenery without, “I still have to get some things done myself, I can’t just drop everything.”

“You’ll find the time,” he slithered and reached over to squeeze your thigh then slipped his fingers over your phone. He took it and dropped it in the cupholder, “just relax.”

“You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“You know, princess, you ask a lot of questions,” he said, “that could get you in a lot of trouble and I think we’ve had enough of that.”

You took his warning and pressed your lips together. You tickled your cheek with your fingertips as you sank into silence. He was headed upstate, you knew that much, but you didn’t know much beyond the stinking city.

You closed your eyes and stifled a yawn behind your fist. He had you up early but you hadn’t really slept at all. After the few hours you managed, you woke up to his hand under your shirt, nestled along your vee. He let you go without venturing further but promised you more by the end of the day.

He packed a bag for you from the spacious closet and as you descended, he was presented with several shopping bags from which he picked a few more pieces to add to the haul. He drove you to your apartment to grab your toiletries and allowed you your tablet for work purposes. 

You explained to Halle you were going away and she listened with envious curiosity as she watched Peter. She slipped in an “I told you so” and you withheld your bitterness. It was all her fault and you could at least be glad that you’d be away from her.

You mind lingered as you wished to be anywhere but in that car. You looked over at your keeper as he drove, his brown eyes distant as he watched the road. He didn’t wear his usual tailored suit, instead a button-up with a few buttons undone and a pair of pale slacks with some expensive loafers. A gold chain peeked out around his neck and his large gold ring caught the sunlight.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were uncomfortable in the short lilac skirt, the flare of it had it slipping up often. Your top was pure white and nearly see-through over the bubblegum coloured bra. It wasn’t your style but Peter had been meticulous in his selection. The chunky heels were better suited to someone at least a decade older but he insisted they suited the look. 

You wrinkled your forehead as you pondered on his eye for detail; likely he only went for what showed the most skin. You hated that. Even when you were a care-free co-ed, you never had the courage to flaunt your thighs so openly. You planted an elbow against the door and the seat belt strained across you.

“Tired?” he asked above the low hum of the radio, “I think a nice glass of wine will help when we get there.”

“Just a little,” you murmured and stayed as you were. He had to keep reminding you he was there, that you were trapped with him.

“Another hour,” he said, “then we can settle in and relax.”

You nodded and his hand trailed along the hem of your skirt again. He squeezed your leg and growled. His hand remained even as you shifted and he pulled your legs down from over the other. His fingertips tapped along your inner thigh and traced circles along your skin. You trembled and he chuckled.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I’m having a hard time waiting too.”

✨

The beach house stood above the shoreline, a short deck stretched over the water and a balcony opened up to a sparkling pool at the rear. It was unlike anywhere you’d ever been before, even that cottage you’d stayed at for your sister’s bachelorette. It was the type of lifestyle porn you saw in magazines or in those reality shows about wealthy old wasps.

Just like his house near the city, there was a staff ready and willing to tend to your every desire. You wanted little but that you knew you couldn’t have. Peter kept his arm around you as he showed you around the exorbitant interior and ended the tour in the bedroom. Your bags were already waiting on the bed.

“How about a swim?” he said as he unzipped the Louis Vuitton duffle and pulled out a red one piece and laid it out on the mattress, “I’ve been waiting to see this on you.”

You reluctantly neared and flipped it over. There was no ass, only a thin strip that would have your skin burning with embarrassment. You picked it up by the thong and squinted.

“You don’t have anything… with a bit more fabric?”

“You’ve got a nice ass, you should show it off,” he purred as he pulled you to him and stretched his fingers across your skirt, “princess, I like a little… bite but I thought we came to an understanding.”

You gulped as you stared into his eyes. The naturally warm brown had turned dark and foreboding. His jaw squared as he held you against him.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds and all that,” he lowered his voice and his breath tickled your lips just as he drew you in for a hungry kiss, “let’s not have this conversation again.”

He parted and left you to stare at the red bathing suit. He rolled his shoulders as he went to the door, “I’ll meet you by the pool, I gotta make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Sure,” you muttered and lowered your chin.

He left and closed the door lightly. You undressed and laid out the disposed clothing on the bed. You shimmied into the scanty bathing suit. You felt almost naked as there was almost no back at all and the high vee threatened to show more than you wanted. You checked yourself in the slatted mirrors that hung along the wall and cringed. He would be able to see everything you tried to hide.

You took a towel from inside the attached bathroom and wrapped it around you. You ventured out through the hallways and found your way to the sliding doors that opened onto the mosaic patio. You inched over to one of the sunbathers and sat on the edge as you picked at the top of the towel.

You flinched as a shadow appeared in the open door. A man in a pale blue shirt and white cotton slacks greeted you with a tall cocktail with fruit bubbling from the bottom.

“Miss,” he set it down on the table, “compliments of Mr. Parker, he would like me to inform you he will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly and gave a weak smile.

The man left and you reached for the glass. You smelled the sweet alcohol and sipped. It made your cheek twitch and you stirred the concoction with the little plastic stick that twisted at the top.

“Princess,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked up. You set aside the drink as he strode through the door, a silky black robe hung open over tight swimming briefs.

His stomach was tightly muscled and as he shed the extra layer, his arms were thick but wiry. He was in good shape, much better shape than you, and you tried not to stare so obviously as he tossed the robe over another chair and turned to you.

“So, you just gonna watch the water or… you gonna have some fun?” 

He neared and took your hand. He pulled you up and tugged the towel down so that it fell to your feet. He eyed you as he backed away and took you with him, turning you to check out the back. He slapped your as and laughed as you squeaked and reached back to shoo him away.

“Please,” you turned to face him, “it’s a bit…” you looked down at yourself, “it’s not much.”

“I’d rather nothing but the staff is still here,” he clung to your wrist and urged you towards the pool, “maybe later.”

You followed him down the curved steps that led under the water if only to hide your bareness beneath the surface. He guided you deeper and spun you against the wall of the pool. The tile was cool as the water swayed around you. He kept you trapped against him and brushed your nose with his.

“You really do look amazing, princess,” his hand dipped under the water and he felt along the vee of the suit, “last night…” he exhaled and pecked your lips, “it was so hard to… I was so hard.”

“Peter,” you pressed your palms to his chest.

“I wanted to wait but seeing you like this,” his fingers slid under the suit, “I can’t…”

He shoved his hand under the fabric and cupped your cunt. He held two fingers against your cunt and swirled them. You gasped and clawed at his chest. His eyes were smoky and his touch determined. He kissed you again, this time longer as his fingers slickened along your folds.

He pushed his legs between your and spread them wide as he pushed along your entrance. You clenched as he poked around and slid his finger into you. You pulled back and bit your lip. He bent his head and his mouth explored throat. You trembled and whispered a soft, ‘please…’ but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

He slipped in another finger and kept his thumb firm against your clit. The swimsuit crumpled to one side and he rocked his hand as he grinded against your body. He nibbled the flesh along your neck and purred as you tensed around him.

“Princess,” he murmured and nipped at you, “you’re perfect.”

He curled his fingers and squeezed, the pressure building between his thumb and his index. He pushed the heel of his hand against your bud as he lifted you off the pool floor. He sped up as quiet mewls flew from your lips. As much as you didn’t want it, you couldn’t stop him and your will to resist dwindled as he plucked at your core.

Your hands crawled up over his shoulders and you gripped him tightly as you felt an orgasm blooming. You bent your legs and arched your feet as your eyes rolled back and you pushed your head back into the tile. His deep groans made you quiver and as the water moved vigorously between your bodies, the tension snapped.

You cried out as you came and your walls rippled around him. He tickled your neck with his nose as he eased you through the afterglow and you winced as he lingered in your cunt. He lifted his head and slowly slipped his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth roughly. The sloppy noises set you alight as he pressed against you and his other hand crept along his bottoms. He wiggled as he pushed down the elastic and you felt his warm tip poke against you. 

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you higher and his tip glided along your wet folds. You went rigid and tried to turn your head away. He grasped your chin and eased you down onto him. He growled into your mouth as he sank into you. Your lashes fluttered, your eyes damp as you were all too aware of your body’s betrayal.

“Oh, princess,” he dragged his lips over your cheek, “you’re so precious.”

He began to move against you, slowly as the water rippled with each tilt of his hips. His breaths were long and ragged. Your chest burned as your heart pattered and he pulled down the straps of your swimsuit and freed your arms. He bent to bite at the top of your breasts as he played with your nipple.

You whimpered as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and the flames licked at your thighs. Your arms fell over him as you hugged his head desperately and his motion grew more frantic. His breaths turned shallow and humid against your chest and he lifted his head again to kiss along your chin and throat.

“See how good I can be to you,” he hummed, “all you have to do is be good, princess. So good.”

He fucked you until you were witless and wild-eyed. Another climax crashed down over you but he gave you little time to recover as he kept writhing against you. You reached back and gripped the edge of the pool and he took a step back, holding you at an angle from the wall as he pounded into you, the water stirring around you.

He stared down at the water and watched how he slid in and out of you. He snarled and sped up as he covered your clit with his thumb. You moaned, a steady drone as he forced another orgasm from you and shivered as you clenched around him.

He bared his teeth and gritted them as his eyes roved up your body and clung to your dazed face. He didn’t look away as the muscles in his neck tensed and he grunted through his own climax. He growled as he emptied himself into you, a warm deluge amidst the cool water.

He pulled you down onto him entirely as he drew you away from the wall. He threw your arms over his shoulders and hugged you against him as he carried you through the pool. You felt fuzzy and fiery as he stayed inside of you and spun slowly. His breaths steadied and he cradled your face as he jerked his hips. He smirked as you gasped and your walls twitched.

“You understand now?” he rasped, “what I can do for you, princess?”

Your head lolled and you nodded dumbly. You hunched forward and rested your head on your arm as it hung over his shoulder. His hands ran up and down your back and he nuzzled your hair.

He walked you back into the wall. He thrust and slapped his hand against the tile and you felt him growing hard again, “I can make you my queen.”

[loving-all-for-loki]

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

-

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

-

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

-

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

-

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

[pendragyn]

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They)

an excerpt of my fic set during/after the church scene...

[...]

“Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?” Crowley had to make themself walk away after the jolt they’d felt from their hands brushing. They didn’t let themself look back, stalking away and wondering if Aziraphale would accept the offer. Almost hoped the angel wouldn’t, knowing they themself didn’t have the willpower to stay away, not when the angel looked at them the way they had as they’d accepted the books. As though it was a real courting gift, as though something lasting could come of it. As though Aziraphale had ever felt as Crowley had and still did.

Aziraphale looked down at the bag and up at Crowley’s retreating back, and inwardly at their own jumble of feelings and those that had come through with their first physical contact in centuries. Love. Their heart soared with terror and hope. They love me. They love me! As much as I love them! The euphoria was gone in an instant. In love, with a demon. A demon strong enough to walk on consecrated ground. How can this be anything but a trap? Aziraphale’s eyes drifted back down to the books, at war with themself, but called out, “Wait!”

Crowley stopped at the verge of the church’s property, at war with themself, but turned to face Aziraphale as they scrambled cautiously over the wreckage. “Their car should be around here somewhere.”

“Oh, I, I suppose so,” Aziraphale agreed, putting their hat back on and falling into step with Crowley. “It’s not that far to walk. Did it on the way here.”

“Might be another pass tonight. Might be they had friends. Rather be able to get out fast,” said Crowley, relieved to spot an undamaged car down the road a ways. Crowley snarled silently at the lingering scent of demon in the vehicle, but it was too faint to identify. “To the bookstore? I mean, if you’re still in the same building,” they covered when Aziraphale gave them a startled look.

“I am,” Aziraphale admitted, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, clinging desperately to the books as Crowley started the engine and zoomed away. They wondered, at how much Crowley might have forgotten in the years they had been apart. Did they remember anything of their friendship before the fall, or just their infrequent times together after? It was probably too much to hope they’d bothered to remember much, after removing themself so completely from Aziraphale’s life, but, but, for Aziraphale to be able to sense their love, after so long apart… It had to be more than just nostalgia, more than just a fondness for an old friend, didn’t it?

It was a blessedly short trip and when Crowley stopped at the darkened book store, Aziraphale found themself saying, “Would you like a drink? I owe you at least that.”

Crowley stared at them for a long moment, still fighting themself over doing what was best and doing what they so desperately wanted, and finally gave a mute nod of agreement, following Aziraphale inside. It was dusty, in a way that surprised Crowley, with the books stacked haphazardly and covered in cobwebs, and a faint smell of mildew and rot that was too real to be an illusion. “Let it go a bit,” Crowley blurted, following Aziraphale into the back where their little apartment was set up. It wasn’t much, a little kitchenette, a table with a few chairs piled high with books, a dusty wardrobe in a corner and a couch that had seen better days. It had all seen better days and when Aziraphale cautiously lit a little oil lamp by the stove Crowley realized that even the angel was looking the worse for wear around the edges.

“Oh, yes, some,” said Aziraphale, carefully pulling the books from the bag and returning them to their spots on the only shelf that had been dusted with any regularity. “Didn’t seem much point in opening since the war started.” They frowned to see Crowley still standing and hastily shuffled books off the table and chairs.

“No, I suppose not,” Crowley murmured, taking a seat. It was bittersweet being back there, the first time since Paris, remembering Aziraphale’s excitement as they talked about how they were going to organize the shop and what they were going to do to keep customers to a minimum.

Aziraphale also sat but bounced back up, twisting their ring nervously as they chattered and went to dig out something to drink. “I, er, I made a deal with a farmer, for them to keep my more valuable things on their farm so I’m afraid the best I can offer you is cider—”

“It’s fine, angel,” Crowley soothed, reaching out but quickly withdrawing before Aziraphale could notice the gesture. “You don’t have to give me anything in return. For old time’s sake.”

“I’ll never drink it alone,” Aziraphale told the cabinet truthfully, afraid to turn around and see pity on Crowley’s face. Drinking alone made them remember, made them think of all the things they’d lost. Who they’d lost. “Be a favor to me, really, if you help me get rid of it.”

Crowley knew they should go, but Aziraphale had been their friend, had been their only friend, their best friend, for years on end, and they couldn’t leave, not without a little more stolen time in their company. Not hearing that desperately lonely note in their voice that they could feel like a stab to the heart and knew they’d hear in their own voice if they let it. Maybe there’d be a chance to make them laugh at some silly joke, a chance to once more see the laugh lines crinkle around their eyes as they pretended to scold for some thing or another. “Well, be a shame to let it go to waste.”

∞

What was at first hesitant and stilted conversation eventually eased as they kept to safe topics, mostly complaining about their bosses, which soon eased even further into shared memories of days long gone. The night wore on and as the supply of very strong, specially made and definitely not blessed, more like the opposite of blessed cider diminished, so did their inhibitions and higher thought processes.

The demon was on a rambling monologue about spies and double agents that Aziraphale had zoned out of an hour earlier, and they were instead just watching Crowley as they got up to pour themself another drink; taking in every movement and gesture, the curve of their cheek, the gleam of lamplight on their fiery hair. When they turned and looked over the top of their glasses to give Aziraphale an inviting grin, the angel lost their breath at the emotions that seized around their heart like a fist. I love them. I love them so much.

Aziraphale couldn’t hear anything but their heart pounding in their ears as they sank back onto the couch and unfurled their wings and their auras just so, a plea and an offering, holding out their hands, their throat too full of emotion to say anything but, “Crowley.”

Crowley’s empty glass slipped from their fingers and bounced away, and their glasses soon followed as they were drawn across the space by the absolutely radiant love pouring from Aziraphale’s eyes. “Aziraphale,” they breathed, unfurling their own wings, gasping as their outer auras met and meshed, and then their lips were on Aziraphale’s and their hands were sinking into blond curls and shimmering feathers, holding on for dear life as Aziraphale kissed them back. “Aziraphale!” It was an oath and a prayer as their inner auras brushed, and mingled and meshed and they moaned against each other’s lips. “Yes!”

“Yes!” A mindlessly jubilant euphoria blazed within Aziraphale like a wildfire at the contact, searing away all caution. They didn’t even consider the superficial, and therefore safe, unions afforded by physical or auraic touch, instead surrendering to the soul-deep yearning that had simmered unacknowledged for millennia, murmuring, “For you, Crowley, anything for you—”

Crowley was seized by a senselessly fierce exultant joy that jolted through them like lightning when the angel said those words, and they threw caution to the wind when the radiance of Aziraphale’s firmament brushed their outer aura, bringing them only a thought away from reciprocating when a bell, a church-bell, deep and sonorous and painfully loud rang out and continued to ring with a sense of desperation.

Crowley wretched themself out of Aziraphale’s embrace, pressing their hands over their ears, gasping for breath, horrified at what they’d almost done. They’d been a heartbeat away from turning their best friend into a demon, from dragging Aziraphale down to hell by selfishly taking advantage of their generous and caring nature. Had been moments from destroying the one thing in the entire universe they cared about more than life itself. Saved them from a betrayal only to be the one to almost cause their fall instead. What kind of monster does that? Unforgivable.

“Crowley?” What had just a moment earlier been euphoria crashed and burned beneath the disgust in Crowley’s eyes and the reality of what they had almost done. Crowley had put themself in harm’s way to help a friend, and their so-called friend had almost doomed them in return with their pathetic neediness. What kind of pathetic fool mistakes physical desire for a courting overture? If Crowley hadn’t recoiled, the mingling of their firmaments would have marked Crowley as a traitor to hell and they would have been destroyed for it, and it would have been entirely Aziraphale’s fault. “Crowley, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please—”

“No, no,” Crowley murmured as they backed away and when Aziraphale reached out, they fled. And worse than the still ringing church bell was the sound of Aziraphale’s pleading sobs echoing in Crowley’s mind, begging the unforgivable for forgiveness.

∞

Read the entire tragic fic on AO3

[witchsheartbooks]

hello, this is the first time that I make a "request" on an imagine haha, in the end I question if they could make a squad of demons reaction to their first kiss with their s/o, thank you and I like your work, good luck guys

Charlotte:

The two of you are organizing Charlotte’s plush collection.

She tries to reach to put one up on a higher shelf, not feeling the energy to float up there right now.

You’re taller than her so you gingerly take the small bear, place a kiss on her cheek before placing it on the shelf she was reaching for.

She was quiet for a moment, eyes boring into you, questions written over her face.

“What was that?” She had settled on asking you.

“Hm? A kiss? You were really cute trying to strain your height to reach the shelf that I just had to.”

“That was a kiss? I’ve read differently about them. Aren’t they supposed to go more like this?”

You didn’t have a chance to answer, she had floated up, cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your lips.

Your face was read and you glanced away from her, “Well- yea that’s a kiss too just-“

“Yes?”

“Nevermind- let’s finish with the shelves.”

Charlotte gently smiled in your direction, pink suited you.

Lime:

The two of you were arguing or well Lime was making it into another argument.

Finally fed up and finding no other solution in cutting this short, you snatched her wrist and shut her up with a kiss.

Through the stunned silence she didn’t move.

Two beats passed before she yanked her wrist from you, flames lighting her eyes.

“Don’t do that again-“

She teleported away leaving you both confused and worried.

Lime needed time to process this.

She’d seen the scene in story books but had no inkling that it was something humans would actually do.

It left her confused.

Zizel:

You had finished making sweets for her, bringing them on a tray with freshly brewed lavender tea.

You set the tray down infront of her and she nodded a thank you.

But before you could take your own seat she asked, “Tell me, Y/N. Demon etiquette is quite different from that of humans and haters. Especially with that of relationships you explained to me before. So enlighten me, why have we not kissed yet.”

You had been about to take a sip of your own tea but nearly choked at the question.

Setting the cup and saucer down rather fast, you averted your gaze from her.

Catching your breath, you exhaled before addressing her again. “Well. I was under the impression that Purebreds were too high in standing to want to share in human affections.”

Zizel grinned behind her teacup. “Oh, what nonsense. If I didn’t revere you as close to my equal we wouldn’t be dating, as you put it.”

You hesitate for a moment before shifting your weight onto a different foot. “So, did you want one then?”

Zizel sighed, “ I don’t believe I would have breeched the topic if I was not curious enough to partake in this with you.”

You weigh a thought for a moment before pushing it aside, striding the distance and taking her face in both your hands.

Your kiss was gentle but fierce.

You wanted to show Zizel through actions what she had meant to you and how grateful you were to her.

Upon parting she only smiled, “And this is one of many reasons why I find humans so very interesting. Don’t restrain yourself with such trivialities again, yes?”

Rouge:

You had no idea how you became your partner.

Perhaps it was all the roses and diamonds you tirelessly sought out and had gifted to her.

While Rouge was stubborn, she loved to be praised and adored.

From the start you had made her the center of attention.

“You clearly have something on your mind. Out with it already.”

The harshness and impatience in her tone had jarred you from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Rose I just. Was wondering of other ways I could show my feelings for you.”

She raised a brow, “Other than gifts? Hm… I’m listening.”

Panic snatched your heart and you could swear if you weren’t blushing as hard as you were that you’d be pale as a sheet from shock.

“Yes well, Darling Rose. Other than terms of endearment and gifts. Humans have ways of showing physical affections without words. It’s another way to show what we perceive as love through action.”

She squints harshly at you, not seemingly familiar with what you were talking about. “Go on.”

“I…I have permission to then?”

She rolled her eyes and stamped her foot twice, “Well frankly now that you’ve brought it up I want to know what you’re on about so let’s see it then, shall we?”

Nerves clutched your heart as you leaned some to match her height, “As you wish, Lady Rouge.”

Her expression softened from your closeness, she was stiff at first when you placed a hand to her cheek.

Though she readily relaxed just as quickly, your lips finding hers and a muffled sigh escaped her lips.

As surprised as you were with her reaction, you went with it.

Her fingers threaded through the back of your hair to keep you there until she was well and ready to be finished.

You blinked finding your footing again and she had the back of her hand to her lips, averting her gaze from you.

“Tell no one of this, You hear me Y/N?”

You nod silently and she snaps her fingers, “Pour us some wine. It seems you have more to tell me of human relationships after all.”

“Yes, Darling Rose, of course.”

[adam-memeleri]

Rainbow

Rosie’s always liked rainbows. Liked the beauty, the wonder, the ethereal, indescribable nature of the array of colours painted on the sky and clouds. She’s always liked the possibilities held within those colours, always liked what they meant, always liked the way the world seems to stand still when you find one after a storm, frozen for something so magical.

Hope reminds Rosie of rainbows.

-

okay so i actually really like this one and i think it shows. also thank you @bubblelaureno for proofing and fixing my feeble attempt at past tense you are so very lovely

tagging - @bubblelaureno @lookingforsomethingcuzimbored

if you wanna be tagged

Masterlists shameless self promotion lmao

T Rating (its mostly fluff, but there's sick if youre not cool with that)

Hope x MC (Rosie) or rope if youre chichi

~7k words this took an alarming amount of time to finally fucking finish, so take it for what it is

-

Like the sweater that blocked Rosie’s view of a lecture one morning, red. Like the tapping nails she couldn’t stop watching, red. Like the sensation of being mesmerized, hypnotized more deeply than when watching the sun slowly creep higher above the horizon, red.

Her eyes roved over the carefully organised materials - pens, notebook, laptop - all set in a specific place. She watched the nails halt their tapping, scribbling out notes in what she could only assume was perfect handwriting. She couldn’t imagine this girl doing anything less than perfect, less than meticulously planned, less than plain stunning.

Although her face was obscured, Rosie could picture the expression painted across it. Could picture a focus that could knock you down and heal your bruises all at once. And it intrigued her, left her wanting to see it for herself, and she angled her head to glimpse as much as she could.

The red sweater rose abruptly, just as Rosie was about to peek, and Rosie knew she should as well, knew that the drone of the professor had disappeared and she had another lecture not too soon, but she couldn’t manage it. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, her stupid desire to see if she was right about this girl.

The red sweater rose abruptly, just as Rosie was about to peek, and Rosie knew she should as well, knew that the drone of the professor had disappeared and she had another lecture not too soon, but she couldn’t manage it. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, her stupid desire to see if she was right about this girl.

She turned, her eyes landing on Rosie’s, and Rosie could have sworn her heart stopped. She was surprised more than anything, to find eyes boring into her own so fiercely, her eyebrows knitted together in momentary confusion. Before she whisked herself away, with a bag thrown over her shoulder and Rosie left behind, simply gawking after her.

After all coherent thought had left her mind, Rosie jumped to her feet and scrambled to collect her belongings, haphazardly she shoved them in her own bag and scooped them in her arms before darting out the room. She found that red sweater as it exited the building, nearly lost in the sea of students.

Elbowing her way through the crowd, Rosie managed to nearly catch up, stumbling a little ways behind as she called out, “Hey, wait up!”

The girl’s eyes searched over her shoulder before she slowed, peering over at Rosie curiously as she fell into step beside her.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Rosie fumbled over her words, gesturing awkwardly as she sought to clear the air, a blush staining her face. “I didn’t - That wasn’t - I wasn’t staring.”

The girl side-eyed Rosie, lips quirked in a tiny bemused smile at her feeble attempt. Her fingers toyed with a ring, spinning it around one finger in a steady rhythm as her free hand held the strap of her bag.

“Really! I wasn’t!” Rosie insisted uselessly.

Her grin grew as she hummed teasingly, “Mmhmm.”

“Look, just -” Rosie’s shoulders sank in a sigh, shaking her head in exasperation, but with a smile of her own. “I’m Rosie.” She tried, her voice having steadied.

The girl smiled invitingly, in the type of way that drew Rosie in, left her wanting more as dazzling eyes crinkled enticingly. “Hope,” her sweet voice rang, with all the power of a declaration but none of the demand.

Rosie nodded mutely, her braids shifting with each shake of her head. She opened her mouth to say smoothing, but, at a loss, she clamped her jaw shut.

Hope didn’t seem to mind, her eyes adjusting forward as they walked side by side, the gap between them like a canyon to Rosie. She swallowed, fixing the book under her arm, “So, uh, have you always been in that class?”

“Yes,” Hope nodded coolly, “Someone stole my usual seat today, though.”

“That… That sucks.” Rosie’s lips purse to the side as she nods along.

“Actually,” Hope’s voice drawled as she peered up at Rosie out of the corner of her eye. “I seem to recall there was an open seat beside you.”

“Oh! Yeah, I keep it open for a special someone,” Rosie’s lips quirked in a crooked grin, her typical playfulness finding its way back to her.

“And who would that be?”

Bolstered by Hope’s own teasing, she winked, her cheeks dimpled from her smile. “I’m hoping I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Maybe you will.” The pair fell into a companionable silence as they walked, neither a word exchanged or a beat of awkwardness filling the space. Rosie’s eyes roved distractedly, sneaking glances at Hope every chance she got and darting away when she got caught.

And every time Hope smiled to herself, and every time Rosie’s cheeks heated just a little more. It was quickly becoming a game, to see how long it took for Rosie to get caught, and with each glance she found herself hoping they'd continue the game on a later date.

Hope paused in her tracks suddenly, turning to face Rosie more fully as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “This is my stop,” she gestured to the lecture hall they were standing outside of, students filing inside. “It was nice to meet you, Rosie,” she grinned, stretching her hand out in offering.

Rosie’s own eagerly clasped it, shaking the offered hand perhaps too forcefully. “You too!” She promptly dropped Hope’s hand, a flush on the back of her neck as she shifted from foot to foot, gaze dropping to stare at the floor. “Um, see you next week?” she tried, glancing up from beneath her lashes.

“As long as you keep my seat available,” Hope teased easily, as if this was a common occurrence in her daily life. And Rosie supposed it may be, that maybe there’s always someone following her around with wide eyes like a lost puppy.

In response, Rosie nodded vehemently, mouth curved in a barely suppressed grin as Hope laughed lightly, already turning away. She stalked inside, head held high and shoulders thrown back with a confidence that can’t help but catch your eye and one that Rosie couldn’t tear her gaze away from.

Like the sweater that disappeared into the hall, red. Like the heart that berated Rosie’s ribcage, red. Like the lips pulled into an impossibly wide smile, as much as she fought it, red.

Orange

Like the socks that covered kicking feet, orange. Like the setting sun outside, the watercolour of clouds, orange. Like the pen that scrawled on paper, jotting down notes and doodling when the words wouldn’t come, orange.

“Pop quiz!” Hope announced, flourishing a card and adjusting upright. Open textbooks, loose papers, a discarded laptop, and a dozen markers litter the bedspread around her.

Rosie groaned, faceplanting into her notes and sending a multitude of colourful pens scattering. “You’re incorrigible!” she whined into the paper, her hand that had been previously writing limp by the notebook.

“You asked to study! I’m studying!” Hope defended with a slight laugh, motioning with the brightly coloured flashcards in her hands.

Rosie’s head flopped to the side, cheek pressed into still-damp orange inked scribbles. “Clearly by study I meant halfarse rereading notes so we had an excuse to hang out.”

Hope paused for a beat, scrutinising Rosie from across the bed. “You needed an excuse to hang out with me?”

“Would you have agreed otherwise?”

“No,” she slowly answered. “But that’s just because I needed to study.”

“There is not a doubt in my mind that you were the most extreme teacher’s pet,” Rosie teased, pushing upright just to slump backwards, elbows positioned to support her weight. “I can picture it now, little Hope avoiding recess to do menial tasks.”

With a wistful sigh, Hope abandoned her flashcards, leaning back herself. “Oh, those were the good ol’ days.”

“Nerd.”

Hope clicked her tongue, fond exasperation etched in her face and soaked into her posture. “Well,” she drawled, climbing off the bed and popping to her feet. “Since we’re already taking an impromptu break, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared out the door, leaving it wide open and lightly swinging on its hinges. A heavy sigh melts Rosie’s muscles as she stretched out on the bed in her absence, legs nudging the multitude of study supplies surrounding her.

She glanced about, eyes bouncing around curiously at the array of objects held in Hope’s bedroom. From the vanity, to the assortment of bottles and items splayed atop the dresser, to the meticulously organized bookshelf of textbooks and fiction, it was as if Rosie was getting a glimpse into the girl.

And somehow she felt there was more to uncover than ever before. From the tattered jacket full of memories draped over a chair, to the photo frames littering every available surface, to the picture book given prime shelf space, there’s so much life in the room that she’d never even heard about.

Hope stepped back into the room before her imagination could run truly wild, juggling a water bottle dotted in flower stickers and a few oranges. She dumps them all on the bed, tossing one of the small oranges to Rosie.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, catching it lightly.

“Mmhmm,” Hope hummed out of reflex as she jumped up to the bed, kicking her legs over the edge and toying with the lid of her water bottle. “You know, I don’t get why you of all people are a business major,” she commented, glancing up as she takes a drink.

Rosie chuckled, picking at the stubborn peel and pulling off chunks. “What makes you say that?”

“You just seem… not… businesslike? I don’t know,” she groaned, dipping her head to hide her face as Rosie laughed beside her.

“I think I’m plenty businesslike.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s cheeto dust on the edge of your notes.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Rosie waggled her index finger, “Cheetos are made by a business, therefore, they are businesslike.”

Hope’s mouth curved in a grin, lips pressed together to try and stop it’s spread. “You should be an attorney instead.”

“Nah, it just wouldn’t be fair to the other lawyers,” Rosie’s tone was casual as she popped an orange slice in her mouth, speaking through it. “Like a pro athlete playing with a kiddie team.”

Hope snorted, her hand clapped up to her mouth as she fought a loud laugh. “You'd be a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, I’m sure.”

“I’m telling you, I’d be unstoppable. Just sue everyone else before they can sue me!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Well, you’re not a lawyer, are you?”

Hope’s hands raised placatingly, but the smile on her face was evident of her amusement. “Alright, alright you win.”

“What’s my prize?”

Hope’s face scrunched up as she considered, one nail rising to tap at her chin. “What do you want?” she finally responded.

“To not study.”

“Alright, I get it.” She closed the textbook she had been reading from and tossed it onto a nearby desk chair, sitting straight and peering about for a distraction. “You want to watch something instead?”

“Yes! No books! No words! No unreadable handwriting!” Rosie cheered, shoving her own notebooks and laptop across the bedspread in a dramatic show.

“That’s your handwriting that you can’t read.”

“Exactly!” her hands waved, eyes wild before her palms slapped down onto the duvet, “Do you see how mad this has driven me?”

Hope rolled her eyes, tossing a pale orange blanket over Rosie to quiet her, “Every day you get more over the top.”

Snickering, Rosie pulled the blanket off her head and scooted backwards until she hit the headboard. “Stick around and maybe you’ll find my limit.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Hope joined her on the bed, tugging her laptop to rest before them. “Now here, since you’re sticking around too, let’s watch something.”

She started scrolling through a streaming service, clicking on random descriptions but never staying long enough for Rosie to catch up. She moved fast, but with more purpose than anyone Rosie had ever met. Every sharp action was backed by a precise thought, every decisive selection marked by careful consideration.

She finally clicked on some random sitcom, beginning to settle against the headrest and Rosie’s side. The blanket only exacerbated the heat between them, and Rosie found herself spending more time attempting glimpses of Rosie than she spent watching the show.

Like the scattered peels and smudged ink of abandoned pens, orange. Like the blanket draped over their laps, orange. Like the sensation of sunlight blasting away all your worries, orange.

Yellow

Like the sunshine on Hope’s skin as they laughed in the park, hours disappearing under the sun, yellow. Like the water bottles filled with too-sweet lemonade, yellow. Like the checkered blanket they lay on, sprawled across it and speaking softly beneath the sky, yellow.

“Ooh, look at that one!” Hope pointed at the sky, index finger outstretched toward a cloud floating in the distance. It was filled with them, the white blending with pale blue as they floated above the world, unbothered by the affairs of the ground.

Rosie’s eyes scanned futilely, following Hope’s finger to the expansive sky, “Where?”

“There!”

“Hope,” Rosie laughed, a lightness in her heart, “there’s like a hundred clouds, I need specifics.”

With a sigh, Hope’s hand wrapped around Rosie’s, their fingers tangled together as she gestured above and to the left. She angled Rosie’s finger, slipping closer on the picnic blanket to direct her line of sight. “That one,” her voice was quieter as she squeezed the hand in hers.

The breath left Rosie’s lungs at their proximity, at the gentleness always present in Hope’s voice, but especially so now. She tore her gaze from the warmth in Hope’s cheeks to search the sky, finally finding the shaped cloud. “A heart?”

“Mmhmm,” Hope hummed, squeezing her hand once more.

“Cute.”

“I know, right?” Hope turned briefly, her face still set in a bright grin before she was back to staring at the sky and all it held within it.

But Rosie wasn’t paying attention to the sky anymore, she hadn’t been for a while. Her eyes were glued to the smile on Hope’s face, the way her eyes flitted from cloud to cloud, the way her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, the way she refused to release Rosie’s hand.

“Do you come here often?” she supplied to fill the silence, breaking a tension only she may have felt.

Hope’s gaze flicked back to her, sparkled with amusement.“Is that a line?”

“Just making conversation.”

Hope chuckled beneath her breath, turning back to the puffs in the painted sky. “Not really. Used to when I was younger, but you know… Classes, work, responsibilities… They don’t really leave time for an afternoon of watching clouds float past.”

“Do you wish you could do this more?”

“Always.”

“Then I’m glad I could help, even just a little,” Rosie grinned, easy and relaxed as she nudged Hope’s shoulder with her own.

“Me too.”

Rosie settled back, letting the blues and whites and greys and yellows of the day fill her eyesight, a collision of pastel colours before her dark eyes. Occasionally, Hope’s hand would brush her own, or her elbow would nudge Rosie as she shifted, and every time it was like a shot of sunshine right into her veins, stronger than pure adrenaline.

“It’s getting kind of dark,” Hope mumbled after a long stretch of silence, a quiet only disrupted by the occasional murmur.

Rosie’s lashes had fluttered shut, the soft breeze and noise of the park enough to lose herself in. “The forecast said no rain,” she answered, followed by a groan as she stretched her limbs on the checkered blanket.

“You sure?”

Rosie shrugged, “That’s what the weather girl said.”

“Which weather girl?”

“That annoying one, Blaire or something.”

“You trust the annoying weather girl?”

“I trust science,” Rosie retorted. “Also that Swedish news anchor. He trusts her, and I trust him. He’s very trustworthy, I’ll have you know,” she elbowed Hope to accentuate her point.

Hope sighed, reluctantly mumbling out an agreement, “Alright.”

Everything stilled once more, their little corner of the park unbothered by the rest of the whirring world. Rosie’s arm rose to cover her face and block out the lessening sunlight, the day seeming to have spent both her energy and the available sunlight.

A drop pinged Rosie’s forearm as it lay overtop her face, a prick on her skin. Then another. And another. Until raindrops began to soak her skin, her clothes, the blanket that was beneath her and Hope.

“Shit!” Rosie sprung to her feet blindly, scrambling as the onslaught of water kept coming, and coming.

Hope was in a struggle to get to her feet as well, grabbing wildly at discarded water bottles, phones, a jacket - whatever lay in her reach. “Get the stuff! Get the stuff!”

“I am, I am!” Rosie grabbed the checkered blanket, shoved it into the backpack she had brought along as Hope piled up the little containers of snacks.

Digging in her own bag, Hope blinked up at Rosie in a brief panic, “Hurry!”

“Would you -?” Rosie swatted at her with the edge of the blanket, her words dying as she dissolved into laughter.

“Rosie!” she chided, waving away the swat as she finally found what she was looking for. She stood straight, shrugging her bag over her shoulder and fiddling with the object she pulled from it.

“C’mon!” the taller woman laughed, “This is funny! We get one afternoon to ourselves and it literally rains on our parade!” she gestured around, spinning to encompass the whole park in the motion, every drop of rain spilling down on it. “That’s funny!”

Hope’s lips pressed together in a smile as she stepped forward, opening an umbrella and bringing it up to cover their heads. The bright yellow fabric echoed with each falling drop, but it was enough to prevent their soaked clothing from worsening.

“A little late for that,” Rosie chuckled from within her chest, heaving her hefty bag up her shoulder.

“Better late than never.” Hope paused, pursing her lips to the side as her free hand rose, brushing off a piece of wet grass from Rosie’s chest. Her touch lingered, the heel of her hand resting lightly.

“Hmm?” Rosie questioned wordlessly.

Hope’s fingers tightened in the front of her shirt, determination sparking in her eyes. “You want to go out sometime? For coffee, or lunch, or dinner?”

“I thought we already did that?” Rosie teased with a small smile.

“We do… But I was thinking it’d be a little different this time.” Hope’s eyes shimmered as they met Rosie’s from beneath heavy lashes, rain still shining like diamonds on them, on every part of her face.

Rosie smiled at the suggestive tone of the words, her expression so wide and bright, brighter than the umbrella held over their heads. “That sounds nice,” she feigned a casualty that wasn’t there, the smile lines around her mouth a dead giveaway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, wet hair framing her face.

Hope’s face broke out in a smile to match Rosie’s, unrestrained under the transparent yellow umbrella over their heads. “Come on, then,” her hand slipped into the other girl’s, and she tugged Rosie towards a nearby awning, hands swinging lightly between them.

Like the shirt plastered to Rosie’s skin, soaked and damp, yellow. Like the umbrella that sheltered them from the storm, a brilliant, shining safety net, yellow. Like the happiness in her chest, bubbling and pounding inside her, yellow.

Green

Like the smile on Hope’s lips, as lively as a budding flower, green. Like the backdrop behind her, the painted walls and masses of house plants, green. Like the nausea that swirled in Rosie’s gut, foul and unsettling, green.

She lurched forward, stumbling to her feet before she darted across the flat towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut just as she collapsed to her knees. She retched, fingers gripping the edge of the toilet as bile stung at her throat.

With a moan, she slumped against the seat, eyes fluttered shut as a pounding in her head drowned out most of the flat. The brief ordeal weighed down her limbs, left her exhausted and drained on the bathroom floor.

“Hey, Rosie?” broke through her haze, a gentle question from the other side of the door.

She sighed, groaning out a “Hmm?”

“You okay in there?”

“Just peachy,” she chuckled weakly.

There was a brief pause before Hope’s voice returned, hesitant but laced with a caring that warmed Rosie’s heart, cleared her head momentarily. “I’m going to come in,” she announced, the knob twisting.

Rosie groaned once more in response, slumped against the toilet with her hair spilled over her shoulder in a messy flow. Her shirt now hung off her body awkwardly, a thin sweat having begun to coat her skin.

A cautious hand found her shoulder, squeezing lightly as Hope settled beside her, careful not to jostle her. “Are you sick?” her fingers delicately brushed over Rosie’s face as she spoke, tucking a stray braid behind her ear, her thumb running lightly over her cheek.

“No, I’m healthy as a horse, that’s why I’m voluntarily sitting with my face in the toilet,” Rosie bit back, more heat in the tone than ever before.

Hope huffed, her hand retracting from Rosie’s face and the taller woman immediately regretting the harshness of her previous words. “Quit with that for a second, would you?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning to press her cheek in the crook of her elbow.

“It’s okay, just…” a sigh drooped Hope’s shoulders as she softly pressed the back of her hand to Rosie’s forehead. “What happened? Did you eat something bad? Were you sick earlier?” Her hand brushed over Rosie’s face repeatedly until she was swatted away.

“I don’t know,” Rosie brushed her off, pushing upright and slumping forward. “I was fine, I swear.”

“Do you need anything?” the smaller of the two continued to fuss, eyes searching for a visible cause of the crease between Rosie’s brows. “Oh - I’ll get water, I’ll go -” She awkwardly jumped up, bouncing back and forth on her feet in uncertainty for the girl on the floor before darting out the door.

She returned a few moments later, dropping back to the tile floor with a bottle of water and damp washcloth in her hands. “Rinse,” she instructed gently, pressing the bottle into Rosie’s grasp.

And she did as told, taking a swig and swishing it around her mouth before she spat into the toilet bowl. She repeated it a few more times before she scooted away, her thigh brushing Hope’s as her head dropped to Hope’s shoulder.

With her palm softly tracing Rosie’s spine, Hope didn’t dare move for a long moment. “You okay there?” she whispered, exhale brushing along Rosie’s forehead.

“Except for the spinning…” her head rolled in a tiny circle gesture, “everything, yes.”

“Can you stand?” Hope shifted onto her knees, still supporting Rosie’s weight carefully.

“I vomited, I didn’t break a leg.”

“What did I say about the sarcasm?” she sighed, “I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” a groan fell from Rosie’s mouth, from deep in her throat as she slumped forward, head landing in her hands. “And I’m being an arse. Yes, I can stand.” She finally opened her eyes, looking up at Hope with a strained gaze.

Hope stood fully, offering her hands with a wiggle of her fingers, “Come on, then,” she urged.

Rosie moaned again, but placed her palms on Hope’s all the same. She let herself be gently tugged to her feet and led back into the living room of Hope’s flat, let herself be pushed into sitting back down and laying back, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Hope’s palm on her shoulder was a steady weight, a warmth soaking through to her skin. “Stay put,” and all too soon that weight disappeared as Hope stepped away from the sofa.

“Can I just go home?” Rosie asked, knowing full well she would never be granted permission to leave when she could barely keep her eyes open.

“No, you live alone,” Hope called over her shoulder, striding in the direction of the kitchen. “If you leave I can’t take care of you.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re right. Babies don’t complain as much.”

“Are you saying you’d trade me for a baby?”

“Oh, never. You don’t have snot running down your face at the very least,” her voice echoed from the kitchen, familiar and playful in Rosie’s ears. “...If I come in there and there’s snot -!”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Rosie!” Hope’s chiding voice rang from the kitchen, alongside a loud, panicked clatter, which only served to provide Rosie with a brief laughing fit.

“I’d never,” her laughter died, replaced by an amused smile grounded in the comfort of the situation. “I think you’d break my nose before I got the chance.”

“Don’t even think about it and you’ll never have to find out.”

“Mmm,” Rosie hummed in acknowledgment, sinking further into the cushions of the sofa as Hope’s pleasant voice occasionally called out to her, alongside clatters and thuds.

Her lashes flickered open, blinking to clear the fleeting sleep from them as Hope stood over her, hands on her hips. “I was trying to make you soup, but you’re going right to bed.”

“I don’t live here,” she murmured without a thought, the imposing woman above her having stripped her of them.

“I know. Now, up.”

Hope pulled her to her feet again, let Rosie lean her bodyweight against her in her sick and sleepy haze as she was guided to Hope’s bedroom and directed to the bed. Hope yanked back the neatly made duvet, allowing Rosie to slip beneath it.

The bed dipped as Hope joined her on the edge, tracing her nail over her scalp, the hinge of her jaw, the length of her neck. Over, and over again, until the sleep that weighed Rosie down stole her again, until she could only manage a mumbled, “Thank you.”

Like the soft explosion of colour on her shut eyelids, flowing in whatever direction the light is pulled in, green. Like the doting nails as they ghosted along her skin, sweet and full of love, green. Like the peace now swirling in her once foul gut, green.

Blue

Like the rain falling from the dark clouds outside, blue. Like the melancholy that permeated the air as Rosie opened the door, blue. Like the tears in the corners of Hope’s eyes as she fought against the pressure behind them, blue.

Hope shouldered her way into the flat and into the living room, dropping herself onto the sofa before she sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t move,” her voice cracked as it escaped from her, each syllable heavy with sorrow.

Crossing the room, Rosie collapsed beside her, gaze stuck to her hands as she felt Hope’s bored into the side of her face. “Why not?” she mumbled beneath her breath, one nail picking the woven bracelet resting on her wrist.

“‘Cause I’ll miss you.”

She sighed heavily, twitching beneath Hope’s piercing eyes. “I’ll miss you too, but I kinda have to,” she shrugged, everything feeling useless in the moment. Everything had felt useless since that morning, since she had first told Hope and they had first begun this odd dance.

“It’s not the same.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, no it’s not,” Hope insisted, a spark in her voice as her own hands fidgeted wildly, unease seeping in every corner of the flat. “You’ll - You’ll be doing your thing, without me there, and I’ll be doing my thing without you here, and we’ll be in our little worlds and won’t - won’t realise until it’s too late and we… you know.” She fell off at the end, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth to worry it.

“Hope,” Rosie sighed, a hand dragging down her face, “We’re not gonna break up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How? How can you possibly know what’ll happen if you leave?” Hope’s features crumpled, deep creases marking worry lines.

“Hope…”

“Rosie, look at me.” She took Rosie’s hands, thumbs nervously circling her knuckles as her eyes poured into the dark irises across from her. “I know you, and I know me. I know I’m not good at being apart, and I know you get caught up in the moment. I adore that about you, I really do, but it’s also the most annoying thing imaginable.”

“Wha - Hey!” A surprised laugh bubbled out of Rosie, a bright smile gracing her features for the first time in the night.

“See?” A small smile illuminated Hope’s own expression, “Now you can’t go ‘cause you have to stay to get back at me.” The smile dissipated, replaced by a tight grip on Rosie’s hands. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to. Seriously,” Rosie squeezed back. “My mum… she needs me back home right now.”

Hope sagged, disheartened, letting her forehead bump into Rosie’s shoulder. “You’re too stubborn.”

Rosie snorted, “Says you. You showed up at my door at three in the morning.” Her arm wrapped around Hope without a thought, unconsciously urging her closer.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m romantic.”

“Yeah?” a chuckle vibrated throughout Rosie’s chest, “Then romance me.”

Hope visibly brightened, turning her head to smile into Rosie’s neck. “I’ll buy you roses tomorrow. Roses for my Rose,” she giggled radiantly.

“Cute,” Rosie hummed, her palm circling along her partner’s back.

“I thought so,” she preened.

Rosie inhaled deeply, rolling her neck to crack it before she fell backward suddenly. She held out her hands, making a grabbing motion at a slightly confused Hope. “C’mere,” waved relentlessly, until Hope gave in with a grin.

She shuffled forward, collapsing atop Rosie with a contented sigh, her head on the taller woman’s chest, right above her softly beating heart. She dragged her fingers up and down Rosie’s ribs, every breath of Hope’s a whisper along her skin.

“I didn’t think you ever wanted to leave London anyhow?” she exhaled after they settled, inquiring with nudge to Rosie’s chin.

“I didn’t. Not for forever, at least.”

“So you’ll come back to me?”

Rosie stalled, avoiding eye contact as she stared up at the ceiling. “...At some point.”

A frown dipped Hope’s lips almost instantaneously, “I don’t like the sound of that. That sounds like - like…” she struggled for words, her features pinched. “Like a goodbye with extra steps.”

“Nope,” Rosie’s head shook adamantly, finally meeting Hope’s gaze with a resolve in her own. “We’re not saying goodbye, I promise you that.”

That quieted Hope, her lashes fluttered shut as her hand on Rosie’s abdomen stilled. The flat went still as well, undisturbed in the late hour as light, nimble fingers traced a circle around her hip.

“What if I went with you?” Hope’s voice cracked the silence in half, shattering it like glass and simultaneously freezing it deeper into her bones.

There was no response, and she glanced up to find Rosie gawking, blinking upwards in surprise. Her jaw hung open, mouth working to form words that won’t come, no matter how hard she may try. Finally, her voice squeaked out, breathless with her disbelief, “You’d… move cities… for me?”

“Yes,” Hope answered in a heartbeat, not a second of hesitation.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

At that Rosie exploded back to life, her crooked grin lifting her lips. “Nuh-uh, you gotta say it,” she teased, her eyes burning with excitement.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Hope laughed, fond exasperation filling her as she shook her head.

“Say it,” Rosie urged, pestering Hope with pokes to her sides. “Say it, say it, say it.”

“The worst!” A full laugh spilled from her lips, and Rosie pressed for more and more of it, the sound addictive to her. Hope freed herself from Rosie’s grasp, from her playful jabs, and kneeled above her, taking her face in her hands.

Hope’s thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, caress delicate and soothing. “I love you and don’t want to be without you, okay?” she whispered into the space between them, a clash of brilliant eyes alighting the gap like metal sparking.

“I love you too,” she murmured back, rising to peck Hope on the nose before she settled back down. “But you don’t have to move.”

“But I want to.”

“Hope…”

“Rosie…”

Rosie shook her head, incredulous at the persistence staring her down. “You’re going to change your mind in the morning,” she warned carefully.

“I won’t.”

“And how could you know that? How could you possibly know that?” Rosie teased, repeating Hope’s previous words.

“How many times do I have to tell you I love you for you to get it?”

“I won’t complain if you say it a few more times,” Rosie joked, languidly relaxed as she danced her fingers along Hope’s skin wherever she could reach, noting the twist in the dance between them. It was as if they stuck the landing, poised and graceful, rather than on their arse like they had been earlier in the day.

“So it’s settled, then?” Hope livened, “I’m coming with you?”

Mumbling under her breath, Rosie rolled her eyes, “Incorrigible…”

The shorter woman stretched out, her body overlapping with Rosie’s as she buried herself in her side. “I’m coming whether you agree or not, you can just make this easier for the both of us.”

“Fine,” Rosie grumbled. “If you really, truly, absolutely want to move to Margate with me, I don’t think I can do much to stop you.”

“Damn right you can’t.”

Like the cushions their bodies have melted into together, blue. Like the rain streaked down window panes right outside, blue. Like the waves of calm rolling through the flat, a gentle rhythm to match their exhales as they were carefully lulled to sleep, blue.

Purple

Like the cardigan wrapped around her body, the slightest amount too big, purple. Like the sandals padding along sand, feet running down the length of the beach, purple. Like the sky as the sun sets on the horizon, fading watercolours painted across the clouds, purple.

“Slow down, slow down!” Hope lamely chased after Rosie on the beach, her shoes sinking into the sand with each step.

“Not my fault you wore heels,” Rosie called over her shoulder, walking quickly down the shoreline as she tugged her cardigan closer to her body. A breeze swept over the waves, cold grazing her skin.

Hope’s bottom lip popped out in a pout, her legs working to free the sharp heels stuck in sand. “I was trying to look nice for date night.”

“You always look nice, you don’t need heels.”

“Aw,” Hope cooed, grinning at the taller woman. “Wait, seriously, stop,” she forced Rosie to retrace a few steps, her hand gripped in Rosie’s sleeve for balancing. She bounced on one foot as she tugged her heels off one by one, burying her toes in the smooth sand when they were freed. “Okay, now you get to hold them,” Hope smiled, jutting her arm out as the shoes dangled from her fingers.

“What? Why me?”

“You brought me here, it’s your fault I can’t walk anymore.” Hope swung the shoes, imploring them to be taken from her grasp.

“I brought you here to be romantic and you’ve spent the whole time complaining about your feet,” Rosie grumbled, but despite her protests, she took the outstretched shoes in one hand and offered Hope her other, tugging her along as soon as their palms met.

With her feet bare, Hope matched pace, sidling up to Rosie’s side and linking their arms. “Thank you, by the way,” she sighed softly, her cheek pressing to the woven fabric of Rosie’s cardigan. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

Rosie grinned cheekily, her chest puffed out for a joke, “Not as -”

“Gorgeous as me?” Hope interjected, head tilted as she peered up bemusedly.

“I was going to say the heels, but you too.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” Hope groaned, burying her face further in pale purple fabric.

“Yeah, that was a really bad call on your part,” Rosie laughed loudly, squeezing the arm looped in hers tightly.

“I guess you have some good moments. Like when you buy me flowers, or take me to dinner on my night off, or bring me to the beach,” Hope emphasised her point by kicking up a small cloud of sand. “And that was only tonight. Are you up to something?” she joked, squinting up in faux suspicion.

Rosie avoided her gaze, turning to the horizon and softly setting sun instead. It’s rays stretched as far as the eye can see, basking the world in brilliant colour and reflecting off the rolling waves of the sea.

Hope’s jaw fell open, eyes scanning Rosie for any semblance of an answer, “Oh my god, you are. What is it? What’s this all about?”

With a halfhearted shrug, Rosie feigned nonchalance, “Just… setting the mood.”

Hope planted her feet, burying her toes in the sand and pulled on her partner’s sleeve as she continued walking, yanking her back. “Tell me or I’m not moving.”

“I had this whole thing planned, and now you’re trying to blackmail me into spoiling it?” Rosie chuckled, letting herself be reeled in by her baggy sleeve.

“Yep. Now tell me.”

A sigh broke from Rosie’s lips, “And you always called me stubborn. Okay, just -” she shook out her shoulders, rolling her neck. “Give me a minute, I thought I’d have more time.”

With a slight frown, Hope crossed her arms over her chest, but she obliged nevertheless. She watched Rosie drop the heels in her hand and fidget restlessly, fingers adjusting her cardigan, her dress, her hair. Until they slipped into her purse, digging around for a brief second before drawing out a small box.

It’s rolled in Rosie’s palms, her hands never stilling as long as it's in her grasp. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “The day I met you was… honestly, it was pretty embarrassing,” Rosie grinned, as crooked as ever. “But you didn’t hold it against me. And… that’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Probably?” Hope’s eyebrow quirked, her hip jutting out to the side in objection.

The taller woman glared up from beneath her long lashes, “You want the heartfelt speech or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hope’s hands waved placatingly. “Please, continue.”

“Right, okay,” Rosie nodded, rebuilding her courage. “You are more than I ever expected and more special than I first thought. Every day I’ve known you has been better than the last, and it’s like - like brighter? Like everything’s just more colourful now, and I don’t know what you did, but I love you for it,” she grinned, bashful for once, with a blush dusting her cheeks.

“And I know this is a long time coming, but better late than never right?” she chuckled softly beneath her breath, eyes trained on the sand as the flush in her cheeks grew. “So I just have to ask, if after everything, you’d be willing to stick around and keep making everything brighter?”

Tears glittered in Hope’s eyes, a shine coating them as she sucked in a trembling breath. Her fingers carefully covered Rosie’s, a thumb traced the small rock embedded in the ring as she watched it shine in the low light.

Rosie shifted from foot to foot, staring down at the ring with a miniscule frown. “It’s not much, but…”

“It’s perfect,” Hope cut her off before she could finish, voice as sweet as ever. “Perfect,” she repeated as she gently took it from Rosie’s hands, slipping it on her finger. She turned it over carefully, movements as graceful as ever to Rosie’s peering gaze.

Abruptly, Hope’s arms curled around her waist, face burying in her shoulder. Rosie reciprocated without a thought, squeezing tight. “You know, I think I need an answer,” she breathed into Hope’s skin, lips slowly split into a smile.

“Oh!” Hope darted backwards, hands aimlessly fumbling until they landed on Rosie’s jaw, cupping her face warmly. “Yes! God, yes. I’m - I’m here to stay,” she beamed. “Always.”

Rosie’s forehead bumped against Hope’s, arms wound around her torso. “I told you no goodbyes, didn’t I?”

“You are ever true to your word,” she tapped the side of Rosie’s nose teasingly before retracting, rubbing her arms to warm them. “Come on, let’s go; I’m freezing out here,” she bounced on her feet expectantly.

“Yeah, the beach was more romantic in my head,” Rosie chuckled, tugging her cardigan off her body to drape it over Hope’s shoulders.

Taking the gifted cardigan, Hope turned on her heel, leading the way from the chilling breeze sweeping over the sea. She hooked her arm through Rosie’s once again as they walked in silence, a comfortable silence. It’s carried along the breeze, relaxed as the lapping waves that grow more and more distant.

“I still appreciate it,” Hope commented as they came to a stop by their car, folding her arms as she leaned against it, lavender wool dripping from her arms.

“The beach or the ring?”

“I can appreciate both.

Rosie laughed brightly, hooking an arm around Hope’s waist to draw her in. Her smile softened, from a burning wildfire to a fireplace, there to keep you warm and safe more than anything. Hope’s arms snaked around her neck in response, their bodies melding in a way that was more natural to them than breathing.

“Look at you,” Rosie whispered in private awe, her breath ghosted along Hope’s lips as one nail traced the curves shaping them.

Hope’s own smile was serene, full of her own hominess, “What do you see?”

With her gaze filled with nothing but the face before her, tracing over every bump and dip in skin, every line and colour in gleaming irises, she breathed, “Everything.”

Like the deep of the creeping night, stars glittering within the gradient of the sky, purple. Like the future laid out before them, infinite possibilities but an amethyst sitting at the centre of it all, purple. Like the feeling of contentment, peace swirling in the pit of your stomach, purple.

[sodone-withlife]

this time

here is yet another introspective dark angst fic torturing Hotch, but you will be glad to know that he doesn't die in this one (what a change from my last two fics lmao). this was written while trying to scratch the writing itch that’s not letting me adequately study for APs and while listening to one-hour loops of Freaks by Surf Curse and Billie Eilish’s cover of The End of the World.

the theme was inspired by the first song mentioned- Freaks by Surf Curse. the same deal applies to this—little to no proofreading was done, all mistakes are mine.

warnings: alcohol, suicidal ideation, implied/mentioned child abuse, canonical character death

word count: 1.9k words

I haven’t seen him take a break in months, not even after Morgan stepped up. Just look at him, he obviously hasn’t slept for a while, I don’t know how the hell he hasn’t collapsed yet.

How is he supposed to take down Foyet if he’s not even able to take care of himself?

How could he sleep when he knew his subconscious would conjure up images of Haley’s cold, bloodied, motionless body, of her unseeing eyes that managed to be accusing, even in death?

How could he sleep when he knew he would be stuck in a never-ending loop of finding his son’s tiny body that he imagined would be even tinier in death, of dreaming about hearing Jack’s agonized screams as Foyet tore into him with the same knife that had nearly killed his father months earlier?

Alcohol.

His father’s vice, and the one he swore, when he was old enough to understand what was happening, that he would never add to his already long list.

But ever since the early morning night he returned to his apartment after spending hours upon hours dealing with the bureaucratic nightmare that was the Turner pig farm case, all of the promises and vows he had made over the years, to himself and to his family, had dissolved and disappeared like dust in the wind.

I swear I’ll make the world safer for you and Jack.

Garcia had been so fearfully confident in the Marshals Service, wanting reassurance in her belief that Foyet would be caught.

But Hotch knew the profile like the back of his hand, and his answer left his lips with easy confidence even as an oppressing feeling of dread came over him.

That was the start.

Foyet’s voice remained in his head, a vicious devil casting doubt on his every word and his every decision, giving voice to his worst fears and darkest impulses that he had long hoped to suppress.

I swear I’ll protect you and Jack for the rest of my days

Then Foyet was waiting in his apartment, and Hotch was weakened by the exhaustion and stress of two all-nighters in a row and one of the worst crime scenes he’s come across in all of his years of prosecution and in the bureau. That night, as his team was sleeping in their beds, dead to the world, he was slowly bleeding out and floating in and out of consciousness for an agonizing length of time before he finally succumbed to unconsciousness

The smell of antiseptic was an unwelcome greeting, and it wasn’t long before he was reminded once again why his mind’s tendency to be strangely clear, even under hospital-grade antiseptic, with its sharp grasp on memory was a curse.

He sank deeper into the bed, all the air suddenly gone from his lungs as he stared at the red streak of his own blood he knew was deliberately painted over his family’s smiling faces.

I swear I’ll never become my father, drowning in alcohol and breaking promises as easily as he made them.

The picture that was left behind wasn’t a warning, but a promise.

Somehow, Hotch knew that Foyet was throwing the promise he had made to Haley and Jack back in his face.

He had promised to protect them, but they were being targeted by a prolific, sadistic serial killer. They were forced to go into the system, and he doesn’t even know where they are, so how can he protect them at all?

Alcohol.

His father’s vice, and one that he ended up adding to his already long list.

The only way he could sleep through a night without waking up paralyzed from the nightmares, from Foyet’s voice taunting him like a parasite finding its home in the dark recesses of his mind.

But his apartment suffered for it, as did his sober mind every morning as he was faced with the evidence of just who he was like when he was intoxicated.

—broken glasses small spills from shaking hands papers thrown askew waking up with a gun at his side and a pounding headache and urges to snap at anyone and everyone and to hit something just like his fathe—

His promises were broken so easily, and so he feared perhaps the only promise that had been occupying his headspace since he last saw his family would follow suit.

We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you

So he avoided sleep as best he could, if only to lessen the all-encompassing dread that fell over him when his subconscious started torturing him with the imagined images of his worst fears.

Headaches, the aching emptiness that had always been and only grew over the past months, the cold numbness that he walked with, they were nothing compared to being too conscious of just how out-of-control everything had become in less than a year.

They were nothing compared to teetering on the edge of the pit of despair that threatened to swallow him whole with every reminder of the clock that was ticking intensely, of each grain of sand that was falling through the hourglass.

They were nothing compared to anticipating the time bomb ready to go off at any moment as he moved through his days, tightly strung and dreading a break in the case that would end up being found too late.

I promise.

...

The clock struck twelve—

the last grain of sand fell—

and the bomb exploded—

taking Haley and much of his heart with it.

But Foyet lived on in his mind, even as his beaten body—beaten by his hands, skull caving in under his fists and warm blood splattering over his face, grief and rage reducing him to his darkest urges that remained more present than they have ever been—was cremated and his ashes sent to unknown places.

Then Jack moved in with him, and his son was living in the apartment in which he had been stabbed nine times.

He gave his statement to Strauss and the other higher-ups, and he was cleared of the same crime that the same higher-ups had pressured him to punish Elle for, even despite her acquittal.

Oh, Elle.

Pulled in from Seattle with high ambitions, only to be crushed by this job… and by me.

Too much like me.

He took his time off, helping Jack settle in and having Jessica over as he made funeral arrangements, a burden he forced himself to take on in order to remind himself of the costs of his hubris.

Then the funeral was over, justified grievances from Haley’s family aired, Jack visiting the Brooks family for the weekend, and the team in Nashville for a case.

And all he wanted to do was sleep, because all of a sudden, his nightmares were gone and he was seeing what his life could have been like—

If he had remained in prosecution to become the youngest DA in county history.

If he had remained in the Seattle office and kept his ambition in check.

If Gideon hadn’t sent him to Boston to help with the Reaper case.

If the case hadn’t stuck with him like it had, hadn’t occupied a special place in his mind for years.

If Boston hadn’t ended the way it had, and Gideon was still unit chief.

If he had put in to transfer to the White Collar division earlier.

If he was less of an addict to the chase, to the danger, the adrenaline pumping through his veins with every case—

—and he was seeing that his life could have been so much better.

Just days ago, sleep was his torture, and wakefulness his refuge.

He was living alone with the demons in his mind, so the alcohol was in the cart out in the open and his firearms no less than a few feet away at all times.

But now, wakefulness was his torture, and the depths of sleep his newfound refuge.

A child was now living in his apartment, so the alcohol was shoved into the back of a cupboard and his firearms locked inside the biometric gun safe high up on a shelf.

—intact glasses in the sink hands remaining steady papers neatly organized and case files hidden from Jack’s innocent eyes mind clear and feeling the weight of his service weapon in his bloodstained hands disjointed thoughts coalescing into one—

The stone bench under the weeping willow in front of Haley’s gravestone was cold to the touch, and the stillness of the late evening was only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves as squirrels and birds moved about. Slowly, he shifted on the bench so that he was lying on his back and staring at the moon through the leaves.

The gun in the hip holster pressed into his side and the one on his ankle kept his left leg still as he let it hang over the side. He remained as alert as ever, twitching with every rustle but resisting the urge to get up and look around.

It was a startlingly clear evening even though it had stormed just the day before, and slowly, unwittingly, old memories from years ago came back into his mind and mixed with the false, happy images his traitorous mind had conjured up in his sleep.

And even though they weren’t as clear in wakefulness as they had been in sleep, he was filled with a deep, aching longing for the times that have never been, for the happiness that had died with Haley, and for the love that had only lingered because of Jack.

Never had the service weapons he wore daily been such a source of temptation, not even in his darkest days after he swore to never taint with the legacy of what he might be able to use it to do and before Foyet happened.

But you know just how much worth your promises actually have.

Remember what happened in just the last nine months?

He turned his head to look through the near-darkness at Haley’s gravestone, looking to her for guidance.

The temptation only grew stronger, and the storm in his mind picked up the pace.

Is death not just a permanent sleep?

Would they find him like he found Haley, lying on his back and looking completely at peace? If it weren’t for the blood that would be pooling around his head saying otherwise, might they believe that he was just sleeping?

Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep, to remain in your head with only peaceful dreams to keep you company?

An hour went by, and slowly, a few raindrops started making it through the leaves to fall on his face. He forced himself up before the storm that was moving in from the east grew to be as strong as the one in his mind.

Soon, he was back in the apartment, his weapons locked in the safe, alcohol still stashed in the back of a cupboard, and the bed was feeling too big and too empty.

Exhaustion sunk deep in his bones, and just as the wind and rain outside picked up, the storm in his mind died down.

There was no fight against the sleep that was slowly claiming him, and he slipped into the dreams that felt like the familiar, comforting warmth of her smile.

I dream of you almost every night.

Hopefully, I won’t wake up this time.

[mimiplaysgames]

Drink Me

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 6,601

Summary: Aqua drinks a truth potion... Now they're going to have to talk about things.

Read on AO3

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! This is part of an art/fic trade that I'm doing with Moe (@terraswill on Twitter)!! I was so excited to work on this but it was also just... so hard?? We agreed on the trade back in June I think, and it took me this long. xD The timing was perfect though, and when they post their art, I'll edit this to include a link! Moe asked for was something domestic and fluffy (and I'm totally the wrong person to ask but I never back from a challenge dkfjkfjgf), and maybe give Aqua a reason to play a prank. We support a Let Aqua Have Fun 2021 agenda in this house. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. To my angst readers, I hope you find something here you like anyway lmao

~*~*~*~*~

She says she’s annoyed with me because I won’t let her dust the tapestry. Or rather, I won’t let her have her

way

and take on this ugly monstrosity (which I think is supposed to depict an ancient Keyblade Master who died four-hundred years ago; at this point, the threads are too faded to give him a defined face). 

The truth has more layers than that, something I don’t like to talk about. But it’s a clear day, the sun beaming through our windows and igniting the castle in golden hues. I won’t find the time to mope when Aqua is beckoning me to give her the feather duster. 

Aqua is a lot shorter than me. I pretend to give it to her, only to swerve it around her face and hang it up high above her head. I’ve got a smirk to last me hours, and there’s a sly one pulling on her lips. 

“Maybe if you jump,” I say, wiggling it. 

She doesn’t move. “Terra.”

I pull it up higher. “Come get it.”

“Or you could stop trying to overcompensate and let me help you.”

“Who says that’s what I’m doing?” That’s exactly what I’m doing. Any chance I get, I’ll do it all to make up for lost years. If she says she’ll tidy the garden tomorrow, I’ll rip the weeds by dawn. If she wants to prepare a feast, I’ll organize the ingredients, the recipes, the appliances. I call it helping out. She calls it ridiculous. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. Yep.

“It’s not like you could reach the top anyway,” I say, knowing this is precisely what would set her off.

Aqua likes to present herself as proper: head tall, ankles together. But when I push her buttons, that’s the first mask to melt off. She lunges at me, chest to chest, aiming for the duster that’s balancing on the tips of my fingers, my elbow locked and shoulder riding as high as it can, as if I’m trying to clean the ceiling. We’re giggling, we’re tight, we’re children all over again.

“Give it,” she says, her eyebrows and lips twisted in feverish concentration. She’d never let anyone else see her behave this way. 

“What are you doing?” She steps onto my shoes to gain height and I have to wrap my free arm around her waist to keep our balance (not that I’d complain if she ends up landing on top of me). My heart is pounding stupid rhythms at the smell of her shampoo. I don’t like sweet, but I like it on her. 

“Master’s orders. Give it to me.” 

“Try harder.”

She inhales sharply, giving me that Aqua look. Fine. She turns her head towards the tapestry and puckers her lips together, blowing air as if blowing out a candle. The layer of dust that sits at the very top bursts, sprinkling the console table beneath it. 

In my shock, she snatches the feather duster, the quietest Hmm of satisfaction coming out loud enough to demand my audience. She taps the tapestry with a flat laundry bat, all while waving her hand over the surface of the table, the dust collecting itself as if swirled by a magnetic tornado. 

No use for the duster at all.

“You think you’re clever,” I say, getting close behind her. 

“I think you agree.”

I think she’s pretending. Her smile looks the same but it’s manufactured, tied to a puppeteer’s strings. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t agree at all. I’m prepared to tell her that she’s assured and confident, but she already knows. This happens: I’ll catch a sudden recognition dawning on her face, like she’s reminding herself of something, and I’m left to guess what it could be.

We��re interrupted by a loud sneeze that drifts from the other side of the hall, followed by a hack and a cough, finishing with a sniffle. 

She’s panicked. It sounds like a case of the common cold, and nothing to be worried about, but that’s Aqua. I follow her lead, which takes us to no one else but Ven, who is wiping his face. A faint trace of dust rides on the strands of his hair. Actually, there’s dust everywhere except on the tapestry he’s responsible for. 

“Ven!” Aqua gapes. “What happened here?”

He takes a look around the chaos and gives a mere shrug, rubbing the back of his hand on his pants. “I was dusting.”

“You were using magic,” she says like she’s scolding him, despite doing the same minutes ago.

“What did you expect me to do?” He gestures towards the tapestry—the Master’s favorite, of a round cat lounging on a throne and announcing a toast with his goblet—like it’s a mountain to climb. “Get a ladder?”

“What a mess,” Aqua mutters with a flitter of her fingers, shepherding the dust together so it’s easier to collect. 

“I’m not finished.”

“Master’s orders,” I say and Aqua doesn’t spare me a glare. Yes, I find that funny.

Ven ushers her aside. “Come on, let me help.”

“I got it,” she says, fixated on the job. Always the one to do and still can’t learn to accept a helping hand.

“Aqua.”

“Ven?”

I know better than to get in the middle of this.

Ven generates gusts of air with a wave of both of his arms—a terrible idea when Aqua’s conducting from the other side—and the dust grows darker into a thick cloud of smoke. He stares at his handiwork with a dropped jaw. I’m shocked too. Where did all of that come from?

Aqua grunts as she tries to calm the storm, Ven mimicking her movements.

“Let it go,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“It will all fall to the floor.”

“There’s too much pressure building up from the bottom.”

“It’s under control.”

“It’s going to explode.”

She pouts (stars, it’s cute) but of course, only half-listens to me. Moving her palms parallel to the floor, she makes a gesture as if to compress. With Ven slacking, it billows low to the floor and then sweeps up.

The tapestry flaps upward, revealing a door.

Ven’s the first to cough. “What’s that?”

Aqua and I stare at each other. We’ve hidden behind every single one of these tapestries when we played as kids. There shouldn’t be a door.

“Do you think it’s magic leftover from—” I start to ask.

She shakes her head. “It can’t be. I returned everything to its rightful place.”

“Then what is this supposed to mean?” 

Discouraged by our hushed tones, Ven stops himself from turning the knob, waiting for our approval.

“It could have been hidden by a spell,” Aqua suggests.

“Oh.” 

We’re quiet. Spells last for as long as the spellcaster is alive.

“The Master would have called it an inheritance,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

One by one, we peek into the secret room. Ven is eager to open the door but only pushes it a sliver. It creaks with determination to wake everyone inside. Aqua is second, looking over him. I’m last, searching the corners for signs of movement. 

It’s empty except for a rack of white robes, stacks of books on a desk, a chess board, and a forest-colored couch. On the opposite wall sits a huge wardrobe next to a reading stand, displaying an open tome on what may have been the last page the Master read. An old-fashioned wall clock with visible parts and spinning characters counts the time, looking peculiarly like the Land of Departure. The sun shines through a window—though this would be an extra. All the windows on both sides of the castle are accounted for. You wouldn’t be able to see this room from the outside. 

“Terra,” Aqua gasps, “look at these books.”

Most of them are titled in an ancient language. “They’re from Scala.”

“We could probably find Sora with these,” she says, flipping through one.

Some of the robes are sewn with patches of snake skin, others stained with faded off-yellow, each a varying size for a growing teenager. I take the largest—it smells like dust—and slip it on. Almost a perfect fit, though I would’ve preferred it longer.

“It looks good on you,” Aqua says, coming to my side.

I smile at the floor, imagining what the Master would have said, how large his smile would have been under that bushy mustache, like the day he gave me his belt buckle and told me it would be a nice touch. Aqua inspects a fraying seam on the shoulder.

“I can fix that,” she whispers. I let her pull it off me, and she dotingly folds it over the book she decides to take with her. 

“Whoa.”

We drop our thoughts and turn to Ven, who’s helped himself to the wardrobe, stupefied at shelves of potions in glass flasks. Ugly colors, weirdly shaped, totally bizarre. 

“These aren’t any potions I recognize,” Aqua says, placing her stack on the couch and investigating the shelf with her arms crossed. 

None of them are labeled. “Maybe they’re lost knowledge,” I say, still thinking about her compliment. How often does she think I look good? “Can you imagine what kind of magic they’re packed with?”

Ven glances at the open book on the reading stand. “Let’s see.”

I join him, watching him flip through crudely drawn illustrations of odd shapes. We both snigger.

“Look through walls,” he reads before turning to the next page. “Neverending sweat. Turn a face blue. Glue lips together… This one says you can unglue them by washing your mouth with soap.”

“Lost knowledge.” Aqua scoffs.

“But who made them?” I ask. “The Master?”

Aqua rolls her eyes. “Please.”

“This is his secret room.”

“It looks like his handwriting,” Ven says, trying to keep his smile tiny. Trying. “Kind of.”

The O’s and the T’s certainly have their curls, just the way Eraqus would have done them. The Y’s are similar too, if a bit exaggerated and large. As Ven turns more pages, all of which are yellowed and chipped at the edges, I realize the drawings match the shapes of different vials, equipped with descriptions of colors. 

“I think Ven’s right.”

Aqua throws a look (Forget it) and rolls her eyes again. It’s her favorite thing to do. “We’re talking about the Master here. He wouldn’t waste his time on something like this.”

“I got an idea!” Ven beams, nudging me on the elbow. “Why don’t we try some? Guess what they are before we look in the book?”

The only person who stiffens is Aqua. 

“Look at her face.” Ven points. “She thinks we’re savages.”

Aqua doesn’t say anything, but it’s possible. 

I cock my head. “If the Master were here, he would have gotten a kick out of this.”

“Terra—”

“Regardless of who made them.” 

She drums her fingers on her forearm. “If it makes you happy,” she mumbles. It was subtle, but it was there.

“I’ll go first!” Ven leaps over the reading stand. There’s a rainbow of the most unsavory colors. The neon, the dull, the too realistic. “This one looks perfect.” He grabs a thin vial of liquid that I could mistake for vomit: a faded, rotten lime green, and drinks it all in one swish.

Following the last gulp, he withers to the floor, flailing and begging for it to stop.

I’m searching through the book for an answer.

Aqua throws herself to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

Ven giggles, cradling his stomach then scratching his back. “Don’t touch me.” He gasps in between painful howls of laughter. “It makes it worse.”

She carries his head to her lap anyway. She wouldn’t be Aqua if she isn’t indulging in some deep-seated instinct to assume we’re not healthy before assuring herself that we are. 

I tap my finger onto a page. “Tickling potion. ‘Give this to your favorite person,’ it says.”

“I’m going”—Ven inhales—“to bring the Master”—inhales again—“back to life just to… kill him again.” He deteriorates into another round of wheezing, hugging himself tight and turning over into a fetal position.

“It’s too juvenile for the Master,” Aqua reminds me.

This page is written with the same suspicious calligraphy but I hold my tongue. To ease the look of worry on Aqua’s face, I step forward. “My turn.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aqua says.

“Relax. There’s no such thing as death by tickling.”

Aqua jerks to say something but stops herself. I’m guessing, Let me have at it and you’d think otherwise. Nothing that she’d say with Ven in the room.

Ven rubs his eyes and sighs—it’s shaky and long, but it’s an improvement. “Can I try another one?”

The first potion to catch my attention is this wide, stubby one filled with what looks like dark mud. 

“Terra.” 

Her warning makes me think of the slight possibility of developing diarrhea from this. I stare into her eyes as I swallow a gulp of it anyway, much to her horror and much to my enjoyment. Her expressions are a never-ending list of entertainment. 

The potion is too smooth to be mud. It tastes spicy, a kick without any flavor. At first, I don’t feel anything, until a zap of electricity rides up my spine. Gooseflesh covers the backs of my calves up to my neck.

By the time I realize that I’m shivering, Aqua has my face in her hands. Her fingertips are warm when she brushes my hair.

“I’m fine.” A white cloud puffs out of my lips. 

Ven is cackling. Not from the tickling, that may have stopped as soon as he got distracted, but he’s pointing his finger at me.

“As fine as a monkey walking naked into the snow,” she quips, wrapping the robe around my shoulders and rubbing my biceps. 

“You can’t say, I told you so,” I say, my voice reverberating. “You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“I know you don’t regret it.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

She scoffs, smirking. Her eyes drop to some faraway conversation with herself.

“What are you thinking?” My teeth clatter. 

She raises her eyebrows, playing coy. 

“Whoever made this freezing potion,” Ven interrupts, having dragged himself to the book and is now leaning on it with both hands to stay stable, “wanted to test it. See if it could preserve vital organs.” He slowly nods (as if anything in this book makes sense). 

“I guess we’ll find out if it worked when I die.” The tremors hurt, rupturing in blows down my torso. Aqua mutters a spell and a fiery glow halos her hands, hovering near my skin. My own personal hearth. I can’t help but imagine doing the same for her one day. 

“Anyone else want to take a crack at it or should I drink another one?” Ven says.

Aqua glances over her shoulder and is actually considering it . 

“No way,” I say.

She ignores me, reading each bottle as though they’d spill their secrets.

I lean towards her ear, though she’s already swatting me away. “Do you need help choosing one?”

She grabs a curvy vial that looks like it has hips and is filled to the brim with pure white. Defiantly turning to stick her nose up at me, she proudly drinks (a sip), grimacing through the taste. But she keeps tall. As long as the nose stays up.

“Oh shit,” Ven mutters.

“Language,” I say.

We wait for the effect. Nothing happens. 

“What do you feel?” I ask.

“Nothing. I feel normal.”

“You’re a liar,” Ven says, throwing pages and scanning pictures, then rustling back to see if he skipped any.

“I am not. Maybe it’s expired.” As soon as she says it, her eyes go wide.

“That doesn’t make any sense. We had immediate effects. Maybe you should drink some more?”

“Don’t be silly.” Aqua shuts the bottle with its topper and gently places it back in its spot. “This was a foolish game, anyway.” 

I have to scoff—that’s harsh, even coming from Aqua. “Then why go for it?”

“Because I admire you so much, Terra, when you’re brave enough to go after something I wouldn’t come near. Because I have to match you, maybe outmatch you sometimes, if you get on my nerves. Because sometimes I get scared that I’ve missed out on so much, and I can’t help but wonder if our childhood may be missing something. After everything we’ve lost, I don’t want to be scared of being silly anymore. But… What if I’m a boring slog? I don’t want to be a bore. I want to be daring and fun like you and Ven,” she says in rapid tossed word salad, her hands getting animated the more she talks, pressed to answer questions we didn’t ask.

Ven and I have nothing to say.

“I…” Aqua fusses with her sleeves. “I don’t know why I unloaded all of that.”

“Dramatic, much?” Ven says.

She fists her hips. “Dramatic is when you whine about your dreams so you can avoid chores thinking I wouldn’t call your bluff.”

Ven gapes. “Aqua, you’re mean.”

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She hides her face behind her hands, taking them to her heart and bowing. “Ven, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Something weird is going on.” I take the helm at searching the book, shuffling pages in chunks until I find one with stark white paint, in the shape of curves and waves. “Ven,” I whisper when I read the description. When he looks at me, his impish smile stretches with lists of ideas. I’m right there with him.

A stuffy silence fills the room when we recite it: Truth potion. The person who drinks it cannot help but to answer questions honestly. 

Aqua steps back. 

She bolts out of the room, knocking some of the books over. 

“Get her!” Ven yells.

My muscles protest when I take off, stiff and sluggish as though I’ve experienced a whole winter outside. Aqua dashes through an open doorway and thrusts her arm out. The doors slam together, refusing to let me through. Ven’s going to have to find another way around. This won’t stop me and she knows it. I slip through a growing portal of darkness—the swirls that lick me would have been cold, but I’m numb—and I come out the other side. There’s certain tricks that come from being the poster boy for Darkness; it’s helpful in fights.

This part of the castle leads to the common areas. I know where she’ll be.

Aqua is splitting her attention between mixing batter in a large wooden bowl and running a soapy dishwash in the kitchen sink. When I approach her, she makes a point to put her finger on her lips.

Stars, it’s so hard not to laugh. “You’re not going to—”

She grunts, shaking her head furiously at me. No questions. 

With my elbows propped on the countertop, I watch her scrub a dish. More than she normally does, actually, a little therapy session to take her mind off the fact that I’m relishing this moment. It’s satisfying how she suddenly remembers that she’s heating the oven, throwing herself across the kitchen to check the temperature.

She points to the spice cupboard next to me, and gets more enthusiastic when I open it. Apparently, she wants the cinnamon. 

“I think vinegar would help better with what you’re doing.” I nod my head to the sink. 

With the flick of her hand, water pouring out of the faucet changes direction and splashes me in the face.

“Am I annoying?” I snigger. I had to.

A tick in her shoulders—her body has no choice but to react. “That’s a stupid question.” Every word is pulled out of her teeth. Normally, she’d say, No, how could you even imagine that!

I dip my finger into the suds and plant one large print on her forehead in between the eyes, where she’s glaring so hard, they are crossed.

“How about now?”

“The worst,” she groans, slamming her hands into the bath. She takes a washcloth to dry them and wipes her forehead. Afterwards, she hands it to me. 

“Think of it as an opportunity to get to know the real you.” I dry my face. 

“You know me already.”

“Do I know everything, though?”

“No.” This potion doesn’t miss a beat.

Ven is panting by the time he enters, climbing a stool behind the counter and peering over the edge like a small child. He’s doing that on purpose, goading her into playing along. He asks me, “Can we?”

She groans.

I’m back on my elbows so I can look up at her and give her the same puppy dog eyes. Between glancing at the two of us, she can’t stand it. She wants to make us happy, she’s always been like that. Then again, she probably also wants to bash our heads together and leave us with headaches. One of the two would amuse her better. 

“How about we ask her three questions only? We shouldn’t drive her crazy.”

She chuckles, that little smile of hers growing and reassuring and there. That’s my girl. Turning off the sink, she folds the washcloth and brings her hands together as though we’re in class. “Three questions each. Is that okay?”

Wow. “More than I asked for.” 

“I already have one,” Ven says, sitting on his knees. “Do you hate Lea?”

“A little. But I’m working on it.”

Ven snorts and drops his face onto the counter. How many times have we asked her that and got the, Don’t be ridiculous. Like I said, he’s formidable. “I knew it.”

“He does his missions with the least amount of effort possible. Takes the easiest route to build his technique. Efficiency, he calls it,” she says, letting out the hot pressure she’s been keeping to herself with relief. “He also calls me, Teach. Who does that?”

Of all the times I’ve expected Aqua to snap at someone, she holds herself back when it comes to Lea, giving him tight smiles to zip it all up. “Ouch,” I say. “He’s been working so hard on a gift to thank you for working with Isa.”

She grimaces. “At least he has good taste in men? Isa does have a respectable work ethic.” 

I pat her hand. Aqua’s usually the one to blow the kettle first, but there’s ways to connect people who may not see eye to eye the first time. Maybe I can be a buffer. “Next time you meet, I could go with you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she whispers. 

“Lea would find it hilarious, honestly.” Ven waves his hand as if it’s no big deal. “I bet he’d give you a note with your gift. It would say, Thanks for everything. I hate you, too, Teach .”

“Okay, my turn,” I say, resting my chin on my palm. She studies me, too, though I’d like to believe I could keep a poker face. “Do you sometimes steal my cologne?”

“Yes.”

Her bluntness throws me back. “To wear ?”

“Yes,” she says as though it’s obvious and crosses her arms. Duh.

“Hey, that’s two questions,” Ven says. 

“Sorry.” I take one more glance to see if I could gleam any more clues from her facial expressions, but she keeps her nose high. As long as the nose stays up.

“I have to think of a really good one.” Ven holds his chin, looking more serious than he’s been since the Keyblade War. “Ever farted then blamed Terra for it?”

“Ugh.” Aqua quivers, her knuckles bleaching. She throws her face over her shoulder and stares scars into the wall. “Yes of course, didn’t we all?” 

“Come on, I could’ve answered that,” I say (though after all these years, it’s validating to know it’s not a blame game anymore). I nudge her with my shoulder. “Justice does feel pretty good.”

“Ask me something better,” she says after smacking my bicep. Her face is as ripe as sunburn. 

Questions that give her more control. I could do that. “Is there anything you’ve been needing to say but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

The tension in her face drops. It leaves something pale and disappointed in its place, a faraway look. I shouldn’t have asked; whatever this fear is, it’s meant for me. “Yes,” she whispers.

I stand pin-straight, the air in the room thinning, as though the Darkness has opened a hole and is sucking all the sun away. Ven does the same. The other Keybearers will stare at their cuticles, or fumble and cut themselves out of the group when they’re upset or hurt or sorry. Eraqus forged a protocol out of us. When we witness or cause harm, we recite what we’ve done and its effects. We bow when we apologize. 

So far, we’ve been home for one hundred and seventy five days. Never expected it to take this long. I open my mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” she says softly. “I know what you’re going to ask.”

I would have pleaded with her to let me apologize, and I would have met her dismissal anyway: No, Terra, it’s not necessary. We’ve been through it all. We should enjoy what we have. She means well; the relaxation and the mundane tasks are good for all of us. Even when we were younger, Aqua was generous at her expense, sparing nuts from her brownie to bake them into a tarte, knowing I hate brownies. She’d look at the brighter side of things (More fudge for me!), and stick her tongue out. She’s been my smile, but she gives too much, and we still need this conversation.

“So what is the answer?”

She lowers her eyes to the counter, then wills them back up at me. “I blame myself.”

Aqua.

Ven sighs. “I should give you guys some space.” He treads away, keeping his footsteps minimal, meticulously turning the handle so it’d make the least noise possible. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I see him press his ear against the door before it shuts. If he’s going to listen in, that’s fine with me. Whatever she and I have to say to each other would affect all three of us.

“You blame—”

“I would be… lying.” She simpers, shaking her head. “If I said I never blamed you. There were moments I did. How and why. But I had enough endless nights where those reasons circled back to me. What I could have done to make it better. To save you,” she croaks, wiping her eyes. “To be a best friend. You needed that. Ven needed one, too. And I wasn’t.”

Aqua scrubs the already-clean counter with that dry washcloth, creating a rhythm that fills the silence. The oven is now heated, and I take the cinnamon and pour two spoonfuls of it into a beaker, our backs to each other. Add cups of sugar for her, some cocoa, a pinch of vanilla while she drills the grouts in between the tiles.

“I wasn’t much of a best friend myself, either.”

“You were hurt and defeated.”

“I was stupid.”

“You are not.”

I scoff, reaching over and pausing her. My smile is meant to be gentle, but it feels so plastic. “Aqua, do you think I’m stupid?”

“I don’t.”

I’ve expected her to half-smirk, where she tells me, Sometimes. “Really?”

“You overthink,” she simply puts. “But you assume the best. You know, that makes you a better person than me.”

Ha. No. “No. I’m not better than you. Not by a long shot.”

She hums. “I’m just correct more often.”

“But I left you.”

“And I kicked your trust in me in the shins. Are we going to keep count of all the unfriendly things we’ve done? How different would it have been if I didn’t accuse you of things that weren’t true?”

“How different would it be if I had just stayed with you?” I realize I shouldn’t have asked the moment I finish.

In a trance, Aqua inspects the beaker with the spices and sugars I’ve concocted, deciding what I’d done is good enough and dumping them into her unmixed dough, stirring, giving her hands something to do, while I wait for the onslaught. “Probably avoided the last twelve years.” I wince. “Or it could have made no difference. We could have ended up the same, or worse, or better.”

I say, “You don’t believe that,” before stopping myself.

“I was taught to respect Xehanort, too.” 

“We were taught to recognize the Darkness.”

“Which I also failed at.”

“Clearly.”

“I did. I looked for it inside you where I should have placed my faith instead. I regret every moment I did.” She puts the bowl down, a slap of wood against marble. “We don’t help ourselves by obsessing about it a million times.”

“But you’d help me if you let me apologize. To you especially.”

She whips around with nothing to retort, fresh tears short of falling. “To me especially?”

“Ven deserves something of his own. Please.”

She drops her hands together. Swallows. Nods. 

I bow, watching droplets land near my shoes. “I should have been there for you. I should have been stronger. I should have realized what was happening sooner, and I thought I did. I thought I did what I could, and I was there with you in the Graveyard, but it wasn’t enough, and for all the years I didn’t know, I should have found a way to learn and pay you back for what you’ve sacrificed for me. I should have eased your pain, I should have brought you back to the Light. I was focused on myself when I should have lifted you up, and I disappeared when you needed me most. I should have done more, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Silence passes the time and I look up to see what she thinks. She’s wetting the washcloth, dabbing my eyes. “Do you feel better?” she asks.

“Kind of.” I’m beat up after taking all those shots, but I’m lighter, free to breathe without the nagging suspicion that I don’t deserve to. 

“One of the things I wished for when I was in the Realm of Darkness was to smell sugar again. I wanted to hear you give me a list of reasons why it’s bad for my body, and I wanted to tell you why it’s good for the heart.” I let her dab my cheeks, the dampness frigid against my skin. “Now that I’m back home, I don’t need any other wish granted.” She sniffs, about to pour the batter into its mold, but then flicks the oven off exasperatedly. “I forgot. I have to wait for the dough to rise.” For some reason that finally breaks her. It tears me apart as well, and I have to hold her shoulder so we don’t rip down the middle. 

“Please don’t cry,” I say, offering the washcloth. “I care too much about you to sit here and watch you cry.”

She stops. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” I let go and stare at her blended mix, smooth as cream. 

“That’s not fair,” she says, throwing the washcloth onto the counter. “I have no choice with what I say. You could at least answer me honestly.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you cry anymore.” Nor do I want to tell her the truth. Instead I hide it on the back of my neck, where I rub into it so it doesn’t spill over. And yet, that makes me feel more guilty now than I have in weeks. 

“I should make you swallow a truth potion.”

“I wanted us to be equals.” She saves her usual response and waits for me to continue. I close my eyes. “Go through all the same experiences with you. We were supposed to stick together, do everything together. Failing the Mark of Mastery took all of that away from me. Or at least it felt that way at the time. And I wanted more. I wanted…” My hand finds nothing as it waves in the air searching for the words to spell it out. “I don’t know what to say. Everything I’ve done and didn’t do pale in comparison to you.”

“We’re not doing this. We’re not comparing ourselves.”

“No, I mean…” What the stars am I supposed to say? “You’re more important to me than you understand.”

“And you’re just as important to me.”

“No… it’s different with me.” And I’ve said too much, Aqua holding her elbows and expecting me to continue. There’s no other trail to go down than the one I’ve started. “I meant what I said at the preliminary feast.”

“Excuse me?”

The feast where the Master celebrated our achievements, announcing that we’re at last ready for the final test. Where Ven and I squeezed ourselves into suits and he complained the entire night about being itchy. Where I spent it staring at her dress. When I said she looked pretty and then avoided her for the rest of the party.

I don’t say anything about that night and she hears something anyway.

“That’s why…” She glosses over me with wide eyes as the realization makes me look like a stranger. “You should have said something to me.”

“You can’t be serious.” I wave her away.

“But all these years, I didn’t know.”

Good, if we’re talking about the same thing. “I couldn’t have told you anything.”

“Then how was I supposed to figure that out?”

What are we talking about now? “What exactly did you expect me to do?” 

“You should have kissed me.” She covers her mouth, wincing at what slipped out. She keeps her chin high anyway, casually crossing her arms and pretending that her face hasn’t reddened the deep shade staining her cheeks. As long as it stays up.

We pass an unspoken conversation between each other, frozen and unwilling to move.

Did you just—?

I did.

I manage to exhale. “You’re right.”

There’s a moment of shock on her face before I hold her and lean forward. It happens so quick that I don’t register what she tastes like before I realize that I’m clamping my hands on her biceps, two bent rods leaning on each other.

“That was awful,” I say.

“No, it’s—” she laughs.

“Bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I always thought it’d go different.”

“Always?”

Well, I’ve run out of words. “I guess.” When I let her go, she reaches for my chest and lifts onto her toes, kissing me back but with care and intention this time, filling my lips with hers. They taste like Aqua, smell like her shampoo. They’re softer than her hands and face, sweet enough for me to want more. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my hands until I settle them in the sway of her back. I let her take the lead, take another kiss, tug at my neck. She trembles from the frozen touch of my skin and from the hold of my hands on her body. My muscles are getting warm, too warm but I like it and I think she knows. Earlier this morning, I held her this close, but this is closer. It’s easy and difficult at the same time. 

Then I remember and pull away. “Ven is listening to us.”

There’s a bump on the door as it’s pushed when he kicks himself off, heavy footsteps running down the hall. 

Aqua looks like she’s touched feces. “Ven!”

I follow her, wondering if she’s going to summon her Keyblade but that’s because of how fast she’s walking, like she has a mission, no Heartless left standing. We turn a corner, down a hall of antique vases and ancient cupboards carved from our first masters. Wood creaks nearby. 

She holds her palm up like she’s holding a chalice, and flames lick the cupboard closest to us until it rattles and spits Ven out. He scrambles onto his feet and brandishes his finger, testing our distance as if he’d poke us in a duel. 

“I still have my last question and it’s in your best interest not to threaten me.”

“Oh really? Tell me again how you’re going to protect yourself when you sleep,” she says.

He grounds himself before giving his performance of, “Do you want to see Terra naked?”

Aqua trembles from her head to her knees, her cheeks blotting a strong shot of red. She throttles forward and cups both of her hands onto her mouth like she’s going to sneeze. What sounds like a loud goose honk blows out as the answer. 

“That was awesome.” Ven slaps his thigh, turning on his heel and leaving a trail of giggles. 

I’m scared to say anything, in case she honks at me. So I wait. There’s just no way to make myself seem small, or leave without disturbing her. Maybe if I hold my breath, she’d feel like she has privacy. She’s panting, giving me side glances but never looking directly at me, that nose of hers wilting towards the floor. 

I open my mouth to say something—

She growls and I clutch my lips together. Aqua pulls her Gummiphone out of her pocket, jabbing a message.

Mine rings. 

 Aqua

Let’s find a potion that dyes his hair pink

 She clears her throat, before flipping it over and typing again.

 Aqua

Don’t tell him it was my idea

 “Okay,” I say, testing the word. Even though I soften it, it still bangs like a gong. I don’t know what else to do except smile at her. She grimaces back, no doubt the last several words spoken still ringing in her ears, just as they do in mine. I even hesitate when I hold her elbow—would it ever be the same, or will every touch mean something different? I don’t voice those questions. 

She moves by reflex: first to flinch, then to hold me by my elbow, mirroring me, which isn’t the most comfortable position. She follows my forearm to my hand, knitting our fingers together, and we stand there, adjusting how they fit. Mine are long and thick, dwarfing and burying hers, an oversized pouch for a gem. They fit perfectly, I think. 

“We can find something better,” I say, looking for anything to distract her. “There’s also those books to read, and the robe to fix. The brownies you’re making—”

“It’s supposed to be cinnamon bread,” she mumbles.

Yech. “Nothing I’d eat anyway.”

Her chuckle is partial, contorted and pressed. 

“I can make some beef jerky for everyone. Spice it up,” I say. She hides an amused whimper behind her hand and massages her cheek. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

She nods, offering me a relieved but crooked smile. 

I don’t know if we should walk the castle hand in hand, so I splay it between her shoulder blades and lead the way. We walk in silence, and I’m okay with that if it helps her. No questions, her head up high like everything is back to normal. We steal glances and do a terrible job at hiding our giggles behind small talk, which is botched and jittery anyway, but there’s not much to say without asking, So… how old were you when you realized?

One of these nights, I’ll tell her I’d like to see her naked, too, when the time is right and the truth comes easier.

[stevenismyboy]

You Belong Among The Stars.

a/n: inspired by a post written by @jxnehxpper​ (check her work out because it’s incredible!!!) from a few weeks ago, I just couldn't resist not writing about Steve as Han Solo! I haven't been here long enough, but I hope you still enjoy my work. The day after tomorrow, or in two days' time I should publish the next part of To All The Boys I Loved Before au- who's excited? I certainly am! 

summary: This year, Steve is dressing up as a famous Star Wars smuggler for Halloween. But he didn't expect to meet a princess on his way. You can find my Masterlist here.

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Steve loved Halloween. As soon as the leaves on the trees started to turn red, yellow and orange instead of green, he and Dustin just couldn't wait for it. Robin didn't share their admiration, although she was happy to join in with the costumes and go for a trick or treat in the evening. Steve wanted that night so badly. He wanted to be someone else for one night. Somebody special.

“Give me that” the guy sighed annoyed. Dustin reluctantly gave him a can of hairspray. Steve looked at himself in the mirror and put his lips in a beak, still dissatisfied with the effect. “You look good, Your Majesty. I've got to look, too. Don't be selfish!” Dustin sighed, trying to rip the can out of his hands. Steve just raised his hand up so his friend couldn't reach it. “Come on, that's not fair!”

“You, my little friend, are just going to ask the old ladies for candy. And I'm going hunting to a distant galaxy today, inhabited by the hottest girls on the planet Hawkins. You don't need a hairstyle from space” Steve snorted. 

“Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I have to look worse. Chewbacca had a great haircut. I'm not gonna let your tall ego ruin my image” the guy answered and finally ripped out his can. His costume looked fantastic. The kid worked on it so long, Steve was impressed. The fake fur was sewn by Claudia to his brown sweatshirt and even darker pants. Dustin worked almost all evening to attach his eyebrows and beard, but Robin and Steve assured him that what he had was enough.

It was Steve who came up with the idea for their costumes. He had to admit that he surprised himself year after year. His creativity was getting higher and higher. When he was recently moving cassettes with movies on the shelf with the most watched productions, he came across Star Wars and simply couldn't resist. He found and ironed a white shirt, bought a brown vest for a few dollars, and completed the whole thing with tall shoes, waving a plastic fake gun in his hands. Everyone will know who he is. A smuggler. Casanova of the Milky Way. Han Solo.

“First of all, you look terrible enough for a creature from outer space. And second, who do you want to impress today? You've already found your Suzie” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Excuse me? Just because I have a girlfriend doesn't mean I'll go to Halloween unprepared. That would be unprofessional, and you, Steven Harrington, should know that of all the people you know, I am the least unprofessional. I could have been Luke, but you insisted I have to be Chewie, so bite your tongue and wait for me at the Millennium Falcon”.

“Yes, Captain” Steve saluted a friend and left the bathroom. His parents weren't home as usual. Why? To ruin his night?

Robin was already waiting downstairs. She was chewing the gum lazy looking at his childhood photos in frames, listening to the wind howling outside. She was wearing jeans, a white checked shirt and a red vest, much more spacious than the one Steve had. She looked at him surprised and made a gum balloon that broke with a loud crack.

“I have to admit that... I didn't expect you to look so good. And believe that it was supposed to be a compliment”she added quickly when Steve made a pirouette to present herself to her. “You really liked that movie so much?” Steve wrinkled his nose, pointing to her outfit. “Well, I don't remember much of it, given that I was completely high, but I had no other idea, and time was running out. Besides, I didn't spend millions on it. Marty Mcfly is fully satisfied with me” his friend shrugged her shoulders. True, she remembered little of "Back to the Future", but so what? She remembered that she liked it. Before she stared at the lights on the ceiling so long that she threw up in the bathroom.

“I gave you an idea. Then you disagreed” Steve squinted, pretending to be offended, though in a way it was. He's been dreaming about this day for months. He was supposed to be Han Solo, Dustin Chewbacca (though he would only spend two or three hours with him and Robin) and his friend was supposed to be Leia. But she didn't even want to hear about it. 

“I'll say again for the hundredth time, dingus. I don't want to and I will never dress up as a princess”. “Did you ever watch that movie? She's great! She's damn brave, sarcastic, and I guess I don't have to add that she's super hot. Don't you see the resemblance?” Steve raised one eyebrow. Robin sighined, threw herself on the couch, looking out the window. 

“You're only talking like that to convince me. My costume is ready, and Leia is absolutely not persuading me. Do you have any idea how many chicks can dress up like her today? A whole lot. You'll be able to dress up in them as much as you like. So leave me alone and accept that today you're playing a duo instead of a trio” she said with her hands behind her head. Steve refrained from commenting, hearing Dustin's feet rumble on the stairs. The boy ran to them with a perfectly laid out head, smiling from ear to ear.

“Ready for the most scary night of the year?” he asked, carrying his plastic gun and falling out before anyone could stop him.

-

After Steve and Robin made sure that Dustin would reach his friends safely and his sugar level would not exceed the norm, Steve took them both to the party he had been waiting for so long. Fortunately, Tina didn't organize it. He would have had the resistance to go to the bathroom to relive the same experience as last year. The host was some Nick (he didn't even know who hewas) but Robin made sure that he was a great guy and everyone who will be there would make sure that they don't forget that night for the rest of their lives.

They went through the crowd of sweaty teenagers, heading to the kitchen to find alcohol. Robin's blue eyes were wandering around the people, looking for a girl who has been visiting her at work quite often lately. Steve was looking around too. He was looking for smiling ladies, shiny eyes, long hair. He wanted to feel different today. He wanted to feel as if he could still please someone else. As a smuggler, he wanted to steal someone's heart today. Not for one night. Maybe for longer.

“Steve! Here!” Nancy waved at him, standing by the fireplace. Robin ran up to her first to say hi. The girl was wearing a short green dress and cardboard wings, painted with paint and glitter that was falling under her feet. She looked like a real forest fairy. Jonathan chose no costume, but was wearing a green shirt that matched his girlfriend's outfit. Steve smiled, nodding his head at him.

“You look incredible! Steve... I wouldn't expect you to be a smuggler today, Nancy smiled, drinking a sip of juice from her mug. Apparently after the last time she said she wouldn't touch alcohol on Halloween. “Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far, away...” Jonathan quoted the movie, giving Steve a hand. The boy shooked it, scratching his neck. A couple of people had already managed to hang their eyes on him and, frankly, he didn't expect it to embarrass him. He used to get used to the looks. Now, they made him feel warm.

All of a sudden, Robin's eyes were shining. She saw the blackness of a girl's hair, who had recently occupied her thoughts. She banged up and put her hand on Nancy's shoulder, apologizing to her. “You'll have to forgive me for a moment. I have to... move in time” she smiled at one corner of her mouth and rushed into the crowd so she wouldn't lose her chosen one. Steve smiled at her on the run and went into the crowd himself to dance. Wanting to dance like he hadn't danced in a long time, so that he could enjoy the music with all his heart and that he was among strangers for whom he was now only a smuggler.

At the same time, you too are stuck in a crowd of people. The pride in your costume began to splash like a soap bubble. The long, white dress got tangled under your feet, the long sleeves made you hot. It's good that the belt kept the fabric at the waist and didn't slip lower than it should. Instead of two princess's chignons on both sides of your head, you tied ordinary ponies, hoping that everyone would still know who you are today.

As you were fixing your make up on the couch, the mascara fell out of your hand, making your fingers black. All you wanted was to get into the bathroom to wash your fingers and accidentally not touch the dress. The princess is not allowed to walk in dirty clothes. But a party is always a party. A moment of inattention was enough for someone to step on a piece of your dress. You lost your balance by falling into a crowd of people, getting ready to meet the floor.

But that didn't happen. Someone's strong shoulders woven around your waist to protect you from falling. The ponies just swirled around your face, and when you took them aside, your heart stopped.

The universe has stopped for a moment. The planets stopped circulating, the stars surely glowed brighter. Steve couldn't believe his eyes. One moment he danced as if it was the last night of his life, and the next he held Princess Leia in his arms. You were speechless. The real, living Han Solo embraced you with no intention of taking his hands off you.

“I... um... my hands are dirty” you said the first thing that came to your mind, hitting yourself in your head for this stupid sentence. “My hands are dirty, too” Steve said immediately, and then he closed his eyes from embarrassment. “I mean... No, they're not, you don't have to worry about the dress, but it's a quote... That's what Han Solo said to Leia when... I just wanted...”. “I understand” you said it with a wide smile. Steve relaxed. He still didn't take his hands, but at least he stopped feeling the burning shame. “Well, if you know the movie so well, what did Han Solo say later?”

“I think... I think he asked 'what are you afraid of?’” Steve guessed, squinting his dark eyes a little. “Afraid?” you repeated amused again, not believing in your own happiness. Someone who knew Star Wars lines by heart, someone who was dressed up as Han Solo, someone who looked amazingly charming saved you from falling? No way. 

“You're trembling” Steve squinted, continuing to quote. Maybe he was even a little right. You got goosebumps out of your nerves, although just a moment ago, the long sleeves were keeping the heat. “I'm not trembling” your fingers went to his vest. You forgot they could leave ink streaks.

“You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life” Steve smiled even wider. “I happen to like nice men”. “I'm a nice man” he said it clearly. If he have to, he'll convince you to spend the evening with him. That he won't do anything to upset or disappoint you. He didn't even have to try. You already believed him.

“Well, let's see how well you're dancing” you're smiling, giving him a hand, completely forgetting the traces of the mascara. Steve didn't even care about that. He was led by the princess to the middle of the dance floor and when she held his hand he could swear that although he was in the middle of the house, he saw the stars in front of his eyes.

Taglist: @mochminnie​ @quen1054 @krazykatkay456​ @sydzygy​ @ghostineleven​ @the-almond-dinger​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​

[bush-viper-cutie]

Love Me Roughly: What Do I Pack?

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,071

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Hours ago Severus Snape escaped his death and has decided to leave everything behind. He is desperate for a new life, and that starts with a new place to live.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is part 1 of 7 for the week 1 schedule for Snape Appreciation Month! Thank you @snapeloveposts​ for organizing this! :D

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/1/20

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“Damn It,” Severus looked away from the clock to the old and cracked mirror hanging on his bedroom wall. He traced the newly healed scar lines on his neck with his wand, trying to make them as invisible as possible. “This will have to do,” he looked at the clock again.

He tore off his frock coat – most of the buttons had been torn off by the Dark Lord’s ruddy snake, and the rest were jammed with his dried coagulated blood – and tossed it on his bed. He did the same with his waistcoat and white shirt.

I’ll have to buy new ones, he shook his head. Luckily his trousers were blood-free. He rummaged through his drawer and took out his old muggle sweater and threw it on, sniffing it once and sighing. Oh well. He knelt on the floor and reached in his closet for his old trunk, throwing it open and looking inside.

“Old school books, old clothes, old, old, old – ” he tipped it over on his bed and emptied it. He looked up at the clock again, “Damn it! What do I take? I don’t have time.”

He pulled out his drawers and started pouring in all his clothes inside the trunk. Next he dragged the trunk to the bathroom and dumped his toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor in. He grabbed the handle and apparated into the living room, grabbing all his favorite or useful books and shoved them in. He pushed his trunk into the kitchen and opened every cabinet.

“Bread, peanut butter, pickles,” he closed the fridge satisfied with the food he was taking. He took out a roll of paper towels and unrolled it, laying jars and shakers of potions ingredients and rolling them up in it. Cauldron! He stuffed the lumpy roll in his medium cauldron and shoved it all in his trunk as well.

He looked at the time again, Good enough.

He ran upstairs for his scarf, a hat, and a muggle coat, looking around his bedroom one last time before holding out his wand, “Incendio.” A jet of orange light burst from his wand tip and fell onto his bloody clothes. They caught on fire instantly. Smoke started filling the room and Severus watched it for a few seconds before nodding and walking out his bedroom door, closing it shut.

He took his time down the stairs and wound his scarf around his neck, shoving his knitted hat in his coat pocket. He took a deep breath and grabbed the trunk, apparating out of his house, leaving it for good for the second and last time.

He opened his eyes and looked around at Diagon Alley’s empty cobble streets. All the shops were closed due to the war that had broken out – mainly centered around Hogwarts – but that had scared every witch and wizard into hiding. Good, no one will see me.

He started up the street and headed to the tallest building, Gringotts. He raced up the stairs, pulling his scarf up to cover mouth, and bowed at the goblin by the door. It was beyond him how they managed to keep it open all day and night, but he thanked Merlin for it.

He rushed to the nearest goblin and gave them his key. He followed the goblin to the mine cart and stuffed himself and his trunk inside, bracing himself for the quick drop. His vault was one of the ones nearer the surface, since it was his mother who had made his account and the goblins organized the systems from poorest to richest families; the rich family vaults being deeper and therefore safer underground.

“Here we are, Mr. Snape,” the goblin jumped out of the cart and accompanied him to the small vault door.

Severus carried his trunk to the vault and sighed as it opened. Well at least its not much to carry. He opened his trunk and started dropping all the little pouches in the trunk. At the bottom of the pile of pouches was an identical set of wizard clothes he kept for emergencies.

He placed it neatly in his trunk and wished he could go back in time to kiss his twenty-four year old self on the forehead for having the most absurd idea to buy a second identical teaching uniform. He always thought the same thing about his style, Don’t fix what’s not broken.

He climbed back in the cart and closed his eyes as the cart shot backwards up the track. He exited the bank and ran back down the street tapped the bricks to enter the leaky cauldron. He pulled out his knitted hat and tucked as much of his hair in as possible, moving his scarf up to cover his nose as well, afraid Tom would recognize him.

He stepped inside the Leaky cauldron and nodded once to Tom, who was too busy listening to the radio to focus any amount of attention to the mysterious stranger dressed in all black who had just run in and out of his store onto the London streets.

Severus made out a few words said over the radio, something about a task force to help rebuild the school over the summer to help Hogwarts open at the usual start of term. He walked a few feet down the dark London streets and hailed a taxi.

He opened the door and flung himself inside, “Airport”, and stuffed his hat back in his coat, patting his hair down. It only took twenty minutes to drive to, which was not enough time to decide where it was he was flying exactly.

The cab stopped and he hopped out, paying the driver, and headed inside. He walked up to a counter where he assumed tickets were sold and looked at a board of departures, scanning the cities for anything good.

“Need help?”

Severus looked at the woman and nodded, “I want to go somewhere with as little people as possible and as far away as possible.”

The woman looked at him and blinked, “Alright… I have some cities… Mind if I ask you some extra questions to better help you?”

Severus nodded and folded his arms.

“The cities with the least amount of passengers going there are in some colder climates. Is the cold a problem?”

“No.” Suppose it makes sense more people flock to warmer climates.

“Great, and would you prefer the population size of the city to be as small as ten people? Or – ”

“Higher,” I don’t need any nosy neighbors or town crazies knowing me by name.

“What about a hundred-thousand?”

“Yeah, that’s a good number.”

“We have a departure from here to Fairbanks, Alaska, Unites States in four hours – ”

“Perfect, how much?”

Severus paid and took his ticket, following the signs and the woman’s instructions on where to go and what to do next. He placed his trunk where it said to put it and followed a guard’s instructions. After several minutes he was able to go sit down at a chair to wait.

The first hour went by fast, but the next was incredibly boring. He looked around and smelled fresh coffee. His stomach growled and he rolled his trunk over to buy a cup. He ordered the most sweet and sugary coffee with extra cream and whipped topping, thinking I need this. I deserve this, and made his way back.

He sipped on his drink as he went and sighed happily, looking around to make sure no one was watching, and decided to glance around at some books by a small bookstore before heading back. He walked in and was careful not to bump things off the shelves with his trunk.

He looked at shelf after shelf of categorized books, scoffing at titles and their illustrated covers, until he got to the romance section. The ‘bestselling’ shelf looked cheesy and gaudy, he glanced down at the bottom floor shelves and blushed. The bottom shelf had titles such as ‘Lord of Scoundrels’, ‘The Darker Side of Love’, ‘Wild Ecstasy’, ‘Fires of Surrender’, and ‘Love Me Roughly’.

I almost died hours ago, can’t I have just ONE thing? He picked up the last book and slowly walked over to the counter. There was a man drumming his fingers on the glass and looked down at the book in Severus’ hand.

“Good book.”

Severus sighed, relieved he wasn’t the only one in the tiny bookstore interested this bodice ripper novel. He gave the man some muggle money and made it to his seat, coffee still in hand. He tucked the book in his coat and focused on the sugary liquid entering his mouth.

He was now entering his third hour, finally growing restless and needing to spread his legs. He got up and walked over to a shop selling winter things. The muggle woman did say it would be cold, he looked at the hats and scarves.

“How cold though…”

“Beg your pardon?” The man next to him, also looking at scarves, looked over.

“Nothing,” he grumbled and stepped away into the boot section.

He imagined he would need some snow boots, but were there any in black? He looked at the three colors listed and took out a box. There were two styles of boots, and peering inside, he wasn’t all that disappointed at the only black one.

He read the size and new it was too small. He leaned around the corner and saw the man from earlier was talking to the worker and turned back. He dug his wand out from inside his coat and whispered a spell to make them grow two sizes.

He tried them on, saw that they fit perfectly – giving him an extra two inches in height – and purchased them. He carried them over to the restroom and opened his trunk, trying to find something to shrink to make them fit inside. The books will have to do.

He shrunk them down until they fit in the palm of his hand and placed the boots inside. He closed it and left, heading towards a bagel stand, where he purchased two cream cheese stuffed bagels and a single strawberry cream one. He sat down and finally opened up the book as he took a bite of the stuffed bagels.

‘Robin flung her dress onto her dresser, unlatched her bra, and let breas – ’

Severus stopped reading and closed the book, looking around as if everyone at the airport could somehow read his thoughts. He sighed and finished a bagel. I faced the Dark Lord and his giant venomous snake and I can’t even read a bloody word? He growled and started on his next bagel.

‘The cold air made her naked body shiver. She reached out for a blanket to shield her young naked body from the chilly wind as it swept in from the open balcony doors and touched her warm naked body.’

“Close the fucking window,” he muttered.

“Hmm?”

Severus turned and nearly jumped out of his seat in complete and utter shock. To his horror, a young woman was sitting next to him. She glanced down at the book in his hand and he quickly shoved it back inside his coat, turning a bright shade of red. He swept his hair down to cover his face, hoping it would act as a curtain to hide his shame behind.

I’ve been a spy for almost half my life and I didn’t notice her sitting next to me?? If it had been Nagini it’d have bit me. AGAIN! He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, figuring it would look even worse if he got up and changed seats – though he desperately wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Can people smell fear?

The next hour passed quickly, and soon it was time to board the plane. He stood up and got in line, looking around to see what everyone else was doing for clues as to what he should do. He saw them handing their tickets and he prepared to do the same.

The closer he got to the doors the more nervous he became. I’ve never been on a plane… I can fly. Apparate even, if I need to… Should I stay? No, I burned my house down already… There was no going back. He handed his ticket and took it again, following the young woman into the plane.

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Chapter List

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[fushiguromi]

chasing butterflies — akaashi keiji

synopsis: akaashi keiji has been your crush ever since but you don’t have enough courage to confess because he always put up this image that he’s serious about life and don’t have time to enter a relationship

pairing: akaashi x fem!reader

genre: fluff; college au

word count: 1.8k

You scanned the room as fast as you could, trying to take it all in. You were in your school library, with stacks of books towering towards the tall ceiling.

You looked at the row after row of perfectly lined books with their spines facing outward, color-coded with labels, and a section of fiction organized in alphabetical order.

You ran your fingers off the spine of each book. You had just finished reading a book so you planned to get another to read and you always love how they smelled; old, dry, and musky.

They felt real, even if the stories inside of them weren't true.

Your hands are on your waist as you look at the top row of the bookshelf. Letting out a sigh, you looked around to check if there's anything that can help you to get the book you want.

But there was nothing, so you have no choice but to look hopelessly at the book on the top shelf.

Trying your best to reach the book, you stood on your tiptoes. But even though you tried to reach it, you still can’t. The book was really out of your reach.

You started to feel frustrated. You still need to attend your club in 30 minutes.

Since you had no much time left, you decided to look out if the librarian was walking around because you will take desperate measures for this.

When you saw the librarian sitting peacefully on her seat, you began your plan.

You stepped on the second row of the shelf and lifted yourself from the ground. Your hands and legs were shaking because if you will not be careful you will slip and fall.

But you were already unsteady and your left hand had to let go of the shelf to get the book above you that was already on your reach.

“What book are you trying to get?”

A deep and familiar voice startled you. You immediately removed yourself from the bookshelf slipping and losing your balance. You almost fell on the ground but an arm caught you.

You instantly look at the person who grabbed you. You were more surprised when you find out who the person was.

It’s Akaashi Keiji!

His face was only a few centimeters away from yours. You could feel his breath on your cheek. It was like a scene from a movie where the leading guy saved the girl and ever since that day, they would often hang-out and they will turn into friends to lovers.

Your thoughts ran wild because of the romance books you’ve read and your cheeks blushed because of the embarrassment. You averted your face and hoping that he didn’t see the rush of heat on your cheeks.

You quickly fix and distance yourself from him. The silence inside the library caused you to hear your heartbeat loudly but it was impossible to tame your heart, especially when you were in front of your long time crush.

“I'm sorry,” he apologize. “I just want to help you because you were having a hard time reaching for the book.”

“Uhm, i-it’s okay.” you slightly stuttered because of the nervousness.

His lips curled upwards before he quickly glanced at the top of the bookshelf and looked at you.

“I’ll get it for you.” Akaashi effortlessly pulled the book out of the shelf. He’s always been a gentleman.

“Here you go,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you.” You replied and received the book from him.

“You’re welcome.” He gently said.

“Akaashi!”

You were interrupted by a guy’s loud whisper. Akaashi’s head turned to look at the guy and you also look who’s calling him.

You were not surprised when you got to see the guy. It was Bokuto who intruded on the scene you were having with Akaashi.

He’s waving his two hands at Akaashi and smiling widely, but he hesitated when he saw you peek on Akaashi’s shoulder.

Bokuto tilted his head, stared at you, and smiled teasingly. His eyebrows are going up and down and you just stared at him confused.

“Aha! This is the reason why you are late for our class!” He crossed his arms and Akaashi just rolled his eyes.

You were standing there frozen and don’t know what to do because of these two attractive men.

“Let’s go. They are already calling out for the attendance and I asked the professor that I was going to the comfort room but I was really looking for you.” Bokuto said while stealing a glance to you.

“Okay. Just one sec,” Akaashi seriously said and looked at you again. “Sorry again about earlier uhm..” he looked down at your I.D. “Y/n.”

Akaashi walked beside his friend and looked at you, “well, see you around.” He smiled for the last time before he turned around to leave with Bokuto.

You found yourself unconsciously smiling and looked at the book you were holding. You left the library to go to your club.

After that short encounter with Akaashi, you felt like daydreaming every day and hoping you’ll see him again.

While you were staring at the window of your classroom, you saw Akaashi and his teammates passed by and his blue-green eyes met yours.

He gently smiled and walked away with his friends. Once again, you were shocked because he smiled!

You can feel your heart racing because of the familiar face of your crush. After your class, you went to the library again to returned the book you borrowed from last week.

As you entered the place, you immediately spotted Akaashi reading a book with his glasses on in the corner of the library. You returned first the book before you walked towards him.

“Hey,” you softly said and take a seat beside him. He looked up to you.

“Oh, hey, y/n.” He mumbled and continue to read the book he's holding.

You looked at him amused because even though you disturbed him, he still continued to read.

As you stared at him, he looked at you, “stop staring..” he shyly said and averted his eyes.

You softly laughed at him and nodded, “okay, I’ll just read too.” You told him and read the book you were holding.

Minutes had passed and you felt someone staring at you, Akaashi averted his gaze and wandered his eyes around.

“Stop staring..” you teased him by saying the same exact line and tone he used at you earlier.

You saw his ears turned bright red and he just bit his lip.

“Sorry... you were just too focus on the book. It’s mesmerizing.” You were stunned because of his straightforward remark. You looked at him as if you just saw a ghost.

“H-huh? Really?” You asked him and he looked so shy.

“Of course, every time someone looks so focus on what they are reading, it amazes me.” You slightly smiled and nod your head.

You looked at the book you were holding. Being shy because of the wrong thoughts that came up to your mind.

“Are you always staring at someone who reads?” You asked and chuckled to hide the embarrassment.

His eyes widened because of the sudden question, “Oh! Not everyone. Uh... just you.” He turned his head to the side to avert your gaze, but the sudden rosiness of his cheeks gave him away.

“What do you mean by that, Akaashi?” You don’t want to assume but the stupid heart of yours keeps racing.

“Well, you are really beautiful and... Almost everyone has a crush on you. Even the higher year.” He explained while sitting up straight.

“I’m not sure about that. My crush doesn’t even like me back.” The words slipped from your mouth and you bit your tongue to prevent it from spilling some secrets.

“Oh, you like someone?” For a second you saw his mood became sour. You don't want to assume so you just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, I kind of like him for a long time now.” You indirectly confessed to him.

He nodded slowly, “who’s the lucky guy?” You can feel your heart beating so fast when he asked that.

“His name is Keiji..” you trailed off, looking at his reaction but he just stared at you.

Until he realizes that his name was Keiji, his eyes slightly widened and looked at you with a glow in his eyes.

“You like me?” He asked smiling widely at you and you chuckled because of his cute reaction. You nodded at him shyly.

“Well, too make this short, I like you too, Y/n.” It's your time to be surprised by his confession and you felt your heart beating so fast.

He’s so blunt sometimes that it makes your heart go wild.

He crossed his arms and stared at you, “You have nothing to say?”

“How am I supposed to let out my reaction if we’re both on the library?” You whispered loudly and attempted to hide your face behind the book you were holding.

You looked away and finds a distraction at the library, Akaashi hangs back, allowing your time to compose yourself, fighting back the smile that wants to break out.

Akaashi pushed his chair closer to you and when the proximity is not enough, he pulled your chair closer to his and put his arm on the backrest of the chair.

He started at you while his gaze is soft and doesn't drop his eyes for a moment.

“Stop looking.. I’m shy.” You tried to push his face to the side but he catches your hand.

“Don’t be shy now, you just confessed to me.” You glared at him.

“How do you stay so calm? Hello? As you said I confessed to you,” he chuckled and pursed his lips.

“I’m not calm.” You looked at his posture while frowning.

“You are! It seems like I do not affect you.” You pouted.

“You have no idea how much you affect me, it was like being seen after endless darkness.” You feel the romantic excitement in your body because of his words.

“I’m afraid to confess to you because it seems like you‘re a heartbreaker and have no time for a relationship.” You fiddled your fingers while you roamed your eyes.

He chuckled, “a heartbreaker? Well, I’ve rejected some because I don’t like them but who said I have no time?” You gasped and looked at him.

“A lot of students said that,” he sighed and shook his head.

“If I really like the girl I’ll find time for her.” You pursed your lips and smiled.

“What about us now?” You bravely asked.

“We can take it slow.” Akaashi smiled.

He smirked. He holds your hand under the desk and resumed to read the book.

You’ve never been so happy. Maybe, life really works that way. Unpredictable and uncontrollable.

You looked at Akaashi who’s now reading a book again. Unconsciously, you smiled. He turned his head towards you and smiled at you, too.

[wherevermyway]

roller rinks and raspberry berets (1/2) // jeongbin // 18+

chapter one: heaven and back navigation: next chapter [in progress]

pairing: seo changbin x yang jeongin | past bang chan x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, recreational drug use (LSD, weed), 1980s AU, strangers-to-lovers, the roller skates stay on during sex, past infidelity, phone sex, masturbation, semi-public sex word count: 11,606 also on AO3

originally posted: 16 november 2021

It’s 1987, and the party scene is as vibrant and lively as the neon rainbow everyone is painted in.

Several months after a nasty breakup, Seo Changbin’s friends set him up with a mutual friend, Yang Jeongin. They speak on the phone a couple of times, then decide to go through with the blind date set up for them at a local roller rink. Changbin realizes he never really learned how to skate, but with Jeongin's hands guiding him, anything's possible.

They take some questionable substances and sparks start to fly when the lights drop and the music gets louder.

It's neon night at The Roxanne, and things are about to liven up, in more ways than one.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

A murky haze surrounded two men lying on a shag carpet in a rundown apartment. The stench of scorched marijuana and incense clung to the walls like the dingy wallpaper that was slowly starting to yellow and peel. If it wasn’t for the Madonna calendar hanging up right next to the fridge that had “MAY 1987” emblazoned in big, blocky orange letters, it would seem like the place was stuck in 1973.

“You’re gonna want this,” a young man with spiky, neon orange hair passes off a dime bag with a couple of tiny blotters in it to the other young man with shaggy black hair. “Neon night at The Roxanne always gets fuckin’ dope, but if you’re not trippin’ on something, it ain’t as good.”

“Word,” the man with black hair rubs his eyes and tosses the bag onto his chest. He brings a joint up to his lips, taking a deep inhale, before passing it back to the other man. The smoke hangs in his lungs for a few moments, before he carefully exhales the vapour into the air, letting the smoke feed into the cloud hovering above them. “You really think this Jeongin is as rad as Seungmin keeps hyping him up to be?”

The orange haired man coughs while he laughs. “Dunno, dude.” He takes another hit from the joint, and a wide grin spreads across his face. “I’ve met him a couple times. He plays the electric bass some band and thinks he’s good at surfing. Seung keeps telling me ‘Oh, Changbin’s gonna love him, Jeongin’s got a collection of weird records and refuses to use cassette tapes’ like it means something.”

Changbin fumbles himself upright and points at Minho, dime bag sliding off of his chest and down to the floor. “He’s got a point, dude,” the younger man, despite looking higher than a kite, attempts to look totally serious. “I told you, records just sound better. Don’t give me that shit about cassette tapes. The only shit tapes have for them is that they’re convenient for road trips. Sound-wise, it ain’t the same.”

The two of them stare at each other before bursting into a fit of the giggles. They laugh until their stomachs hurt and the cherry burns out of their joint.

“Anyway,” Minho wipes the corners of his eyes and pulls a slip of paper out of his back pocket, “you should give him a call before your date. Might make things a little less awkward.”

Changbin takes the slip of torn notebook paper and stares at it. He was doing fine until he saw the ten digits and ‘Jeongin’ on the paper, then his palms started to sweat a bit. “You really think he’s gonna like me?”

Minho relights the joint between his teeth and smirks, giving Changbin a coy glance. “Everyone likes you, dude. Chill out.”

Changbin didn’t get the courage to call Jeongin until Wednesday night, two days before their blind date. Minho was out for the night, going to some lame house party with Seungmin again. The two were practically attached at the hip, unsure if they were going to ever officially become an item or not; they had been on-again, off-again for nearly a year now. Minho was seriously considering asking Seungmin if they should settle down, take things seriously, but then Chan had broken up with Changbin, and it made everyone question if relationships were really worth it.

“Man,” Changbin sighed as he flopped down onto his bed. He reached over to his nightstand and cracked his knuckles before he scraped together enough weed to roll a quick joint. Minho was always better at it than him, but he tried his damnedest. As long as he could smoke up enough to forget about frantic college students contemplating the true meaning of Shakespeare’s work while he helped them search for reference materials, he didn’t really care what exactly the joint looked like.

It turned out a little crooked, but it didn’t matter. As long as it got the job done, right? He took a stray match from the tray and struck it against a matchbox, spinning it around the end of his joint as he took a deep inhale, then shook the match until the flame went out. As he watched the smoke leave his lips, he chewed on his lip a bit.

Tonight was the night. It had to be. There were only two nights to go.

His eyes fluttered down to the same scrap of paper that Minho had handed him a couple of days ago, sitting right next to the phone on his desk. When they first moved into this apartment, Minho teased him for having a rotary phone, instead of something with real push buttons. “Dude, you’re, like, twenty-five and you’ve got an old ass rotary phone. You’re fitting that old, crusty librarian stereotype, now you just need twenty cats and argyle-patterned wool sweaters covered in your cats’ fur.”

Minho earned the elbow in the ribs that Changbin gave him for that.

Changbin wasn’t sure how long he sat and stared at that scrap of paper, but it was long enough for him to get through his entire joint. Would Jeongin really like him? Could he handle the weird, nerdy rants Changbin could go on about the Dewey Decimal Classification when he got really baked? Did Jeongin even do, much less like, drugs?

Okay, if he was friends with Seungmin, he absolutely had to be fine with the last concern. That was one fear off of the list, alleviating his concerns a minute amount.

After Chan got sick of Changbin’s oddities, he was nervous that his next partner would be overly critical of everything he did. Afraid that he would spark an argument over something stupid, like the way that their albums were organized, or whether or not plates should be on the bottom shelf of a cupboard, or the second shelf.

Domestic life with a partner was stupid, and being stuck in the middle of one’s twenties, when someone supposed to be in the prime of their youth, was not the time to argue over fucking dinner plates. Changbin figured that now was the perfect time to drop acid on a date with some dude he never met, even if he wasn’t sure if the stranger was even cute or not. It didn’t matter.

Fuck it.

He placed the remnants of his burnt out joint on the metal tray, pushing it out of the way as he stood up, grabbing his phone and the paper off of his desk, dropping them onto his nightstand. Hopefully, this conversation would be long enough for him to be able to relax up against the wall, to get comfortable and bond. Even if it wasn’t a guarantee towards forever, Changbin would let his guard down just a little, let someone in again. It had been several months, nearly a year at this point, and it was time.

His fingers were slightly clammy, holding the flimsy paper in between his thumb and index finger. He took in a sharp breath, then brought the receiver up under his ear, propping it up with his shoulder. Subconsciously, Changbin furrowed his brows and stuck the tip of his tongue out through the corner of his lips as he punched in each digit into the rotary, letting the dial spin and click between each number.

After the tenth number was in, he sat back a bit, listening to the dial tone trill in his ear.

Once.

Was this the right number?

Twice.

Would Jeongin pick up?

Three rings.

Was he even home?

Four.

Was this a good idea?

Five. Five was making Changbin nervous, more nervous than he expected.

“Hello?” The voice on the other line was breathy and he heard a couple of small pants. It was easy to get distracted, Changbin getting lost in the possible reasons as to why the other voice was so… occupied.

“H-hi,” he stumbled over his words, forgetting how to form a coherent sentence. Shit, this was awkward. “I’m looking for Jeongin. Yang Jeongin. Do I have the right number?”

“Heh,” the other voice chuckles. “Depends on who’s asking.”

Arrogant. Changbin liked that. “Seo Changbin. Apparently, we’re going on a date on Friday, thanks to our friend Seungmin.”

“Damn,” the other young man sighed, “took you forever to call. Seungmin said he wasn’t gonna give me your number, that I should wait for you to call.” There’s a sound of something metallic clattering against a hard surface. “I don’t like waiting, but I figured I’d give it a chance. I’m tired of dating guys that have dated guys I’ve dated already.”

Changbin swallowed hard, not sure of what exactly he should say.

“That was a joke, dude.” Jeongin sighs, and there’s a bit of shuffling on the other line. “Please tell me you know how to laugh. If you don’t know how to laugh, I don’t know how this is gonna work out.”

“Yeah,” Changbin squeaks, “I just, I dunno, I’m not really good at talking over the phone unless it’s for, like, work or something.”

“Oh yeah!” The other man exclaims, and a slap against a hard surface comes through the tinny receiver. “Seungmin told me you’re a librarian. You don’t hear of many 25-year-old librarians, much less ones that are dudes, and even fewer that don’t have cats. Weird.” He laughs a little bit, a cute, light, floaty laugh. “Why did you become a librarian, of all things? Sounds kinda nerdy.”

Without thinking, Changbin grits his teeth in nervousness, reminded of all of the shitty jocks in high school giving him shit for spending all of his free time in the library, nose in some nonfiction books about music theory. None of those bastards got anywhere in life, anyways, so who was really laughing now? “It’s because I am a nerd,” he says, a bit colder than he should have, “but I like organization, helping people find things, and, honestly, just being able to feel a little smarter than most people sometimes.”

The weed was starting to really have an effect on him, allowing him to physically relax, but also be a bit more open. Perhaps he was a bit too open.

The two men share a brief pause over the phone and then Jeongin laughs. “So, you think you’re pretty smart, huh?”

“I mean,” Changbin leans up against the wall, tangling the phone cord aimlessly between his fingers, “I don’t have two degrees in this for nothing.”

“Ha,” Jeongin’s laugh bubbles up again, “dweeb.”

They chat aimlessly for a while, and Changbin finds out that Jeongin is, indeed, a musician. Dropped out of university to be a bassist with a couple of his friends, but he works in a pawn shop half-time.

“Pays the bills and it lets me get first pick of all of the good, barely-played records,” Jeongin quips. “Even if sometimes people wanna try to steal shit and we get threats of armed robbery every couple weeks. Stressful, but I got a copy of The Wall last week, brand new and unopened, for way cheaper than my boss would’ve sold it for, so that makes up for it.”

Changbin found Jeongin startlingly fascinating. They seemed like total opposites on some things, since Jeongin was an extrovert and Changbin was an introvert, but they agreed on important things, like music. “That reminds me,” he slid down to lay up against his bed and stare at the ceiling, “my roommate, Minho? He tried to tell me there’s no auditory difference between records and cassette tapes.”

“Dude!” Jeongin scoffs with offence. “You need a new roommate. What a shitty opinion.”

“I know, I know,” Changbin curls into himself a bit, a wide smile on his face as he laughs. “Minho doesn’t get it, man. I tried playing a couple different things, but he still didn’t get it.”

The two of them share a laugh over the line. It had been so long since someone other than Minho made Changbin genuinely smile and laugh like that, and he was starting to have a bit less reservation about Jeongin. Maybe this would work out, after all.

“So,” the other man clears his throat, trying to calm himself from laughing so hard, “I gotta ask. What’s your favourite year in music so far, since ’80? Don’t get me started on the 60s and 70s, because I have a lot of opinions.”

“That’s tough.” Changbin bites his tongue and squints, rolling his eyes back and forth, scanning the ceiling as if it would give him some sort of answer. “’84, if I have to pick. I mean, dude, look at Queen; they’re fucking killing it. ‘Radio Ga Ga’ is still playing everywhere. Don’t even get me started on ‘Take On Me’, either.”

Jeongin politely chuckles. “Alright, man, I gotta disagree. ’85. ‘Raspberry Beret’ is so good, like, it’s my favourite by Prince. ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’? Come on, man, The Breakfast Club. You can’t tell me that’s not iconic.”

“That’s one of my favourite movies, man.” Changbin’s face starts to hurt from smiling so much as he quotes the film: “‘We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.’”

There’s a soft laugh on the other line, something different about it, like the mood has shifted into something a little more serious. “Ah, Changbin. I knew I’d like you, not just for your opinions on records and cassette tapes. You seem pretty neat, and I wanna get to know you more.”

The blush that creeps up on Changbin’s face is uncomfortably hot. They had to have been on the phone for about an hour, but everything was starting to unravel naturally, comfortably, and it was exciting. His gaze falls as he turns his head to the side, eyeing the metal alarm clock on his nightstand.

“I’d like that, Jeongin,” he says, nearly whispering it. “I’ve gotta head to bed here in a bit, since I’ve got an early day of being your local resident nerd at the campus library tomorrow.”

“I haven’t seen you yet,” the other man lowers his voice, practically growling into the phone, “but you might just convince me that librarians and nerds can be hot and sexy, after all.”

Changbin practically chokes on his saliva at that comment. His eyes widen and he shakes his head a few times, almost comically. “I wouldn’t say that I’m either of those things, but I’m curious to hear what you think of me. Maybe we could pick up this conversation tomorrow?”

“I’m free all night, baby. Call me up whenever.”

The two of them offer impolite farewells, then Changbin softly hangs up the phone. He checks his alarm clock to make sure his alarm is set, then pulls the drawstring on his desk lamp, turning it off.

“Nerds can be hot and sexy, after all.” Jeongin’s voice echoed in his head, and just the thought of the way he said that caused his nerves to come to life, for his breath to quicken. What did this mysterious pawn shop clerk by day, musician by night look like? Was he any good in the sheets? Was he aggressive, was he soft?

If he wasn’t so tired, Changbin would’ve let his mind run a little more wild, maybe let his hands wander south. Instead, he quickly fell asleep, losing himself in the memory of Jeongin’s voice and the possibilities they had ahead of them.

The next day went by slower than it should have, and it was completely unfair. It was two in the afternoon when things came to a complete standstill. It was Thursday, and a lot of students would likely be in the middle of exams, so there wasn’t much to do, other than daydream about Jeongin while aimlessly thumbing through a catalogue of items for archiving.

Changbin stood at the archiving desk, the area completely emptied out and quiet. The lack of people meant there was a lack of work, allowing for his mind to travel to some interesting places: imagining bony fingers scanning his body, running down his torso, grabbing his hips. He subconsciously gripped the red pen in his hand a little tighter, leaning against the desk as he bit his lip, trying hard not to rut against the oaken wood beneath him.

He should be focusing on the lengthy parchment in front of him, waiting to be indexed. Waiting, like he was, to be aimlessly fucked into. It had been over a year since he last slept with someone, and it was starting to become tiresome. It usually didn’t bother him, but Jeongin’s voice and his words had been dancing around in his head all day, making his entire body tingle and tense.

Their blind date was tomorrow night, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he could hold out on getting off for one more day. He had to know more intimate details about Jeongin, and, nerves be damned, he was going to work up the courage to find out tonight.

Changbin nervously paced around his empty apartment, soles of his feet dragging across the shag carpet in the living room. He told himself he wouldn’t call Jeongin until 19:30 at the earliest, and calling him at exactly 19:30 would just be overkill and stupid. He couldn’t come off as needy or desperate, so he waited. Every couple of minutes, he would anxiously look up at the clock that hung up on the wall above his prized record player.

19:24.

“Dammit all to hell,” Changbin grumbled, nibbling on his thumbnail as he continued to pace. Kate Bush’s ‘Cloudbusting’ was nearly finished playing, which meant he was going to have to flip the record over to side B, but he decided against it. No, he’d suffer in silence until 19:33; an arbitrary time, but random enough to seem unsuspicious. That meant a little under eight minutes to wait impatiently. He’d get through it, he figured, even though it would be painful.

As the song ended and Changbin went to shut off the record player and slip the vinyl back into its papery packaging, the phone rang. A gasp silently escaped his lips as he looked up at the clock. 19:26.

No, it couldn’t be Jeongin. Changbin didn’t give him his phone number. Still, he ran off to his bedroom. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, but it was better to be prepared just in case. He slammed his door behind him and rushed to grab the receiver, anxiously bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He tried so hard to stay calm as he answered the phone.

“Hey!” Changbin frowned as he realized the voice on the other line was Minho. “It’s just me. I’m gonna be at Seungmin’s tonight. We’ve got, uh,” he lowers his voice, “I’m probably not gonna be home until, like, Sunday at this rate. Seungmin’s got plans.”

He tried really hard not to, but Changbin still rolled his eyes in envy at his roommate. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “have fun getting the life pounded out of you. Hopefully you can still walk by the time you come home on Monday.”

“Oh come on,” Minho scoffed. “According to Seungmin, don’t be surprised if Jeongin’s got similar plans for the both of you if you two hit it off.”

Changbin shook his head and instantly flushed at the thought, his brain malfunctioning. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Minho gasps and laughs. “I gotta go, dude. Good luck this weekend, bye!”

Before he can say anything in response, Minho hangs up, leaving Changbin staring blankly at the receiver. He slams it down on the phone and groans loudly. A few moments pass before he decides to turn his overhead light off, and turn his desk lamp on. 19:30. There was only a little bit longer before he wouldn’t be worried about calling Jeongin, so he stared down at the drawer of his nightstand.

“Just in case, right?” A nervous scoff left his lips as he whispered into the air.

He pulled out a small bottle of lube, and set it down next to the phone. Even if his conversation with Jeongin didn’t go the way he was hoping it would, he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep unsatisfied tonight. There was no way.

19:31.

Two minutes to go until—

The phone rang again, causing Changbin to jump in place, nearly out of his own skin. “What the fuck?” He shouted to himself as he picked up the receiver. “Dude, Minho, I get it, you don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“Changbin?” The other voice was decidedly not Minho. No, it was too familiar, yet unfamiliar all at once. Painfully new.

“Jeongin? How did you…?”

The younger man chuckled. “I was with Seungmin today. Told him about our conversation yesterday, and he thought it’d be fine if he gave me your number. Maybe call you a little earlier, throw you off your guard.”

Changbin scoffed and flopped down onto his bed unceremoniously. “Well, it worked.”

“Clearly.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence, and Changbin bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. He had all of these great topics for conversation run through his head while he was at work, but now they were all gone, like they never existed. The only obvious option that came to him was about their date tomorrow. “About our date tomorrow,” he starts, aimlessly watching the second hand tick away on his alarm clock, “how are we gonna know how to find each other?”

Jeongin hummed a mindless tune for a moment, likely contemplating his plans. “Wait for me at the bar. I’ll be there, wearing a neon pink shirt. I’ve got freshly-dyed teal blue hair, so you might need to get your eyes checked if you miss me.”

A soft smile crawled its way up Changbin’s face. “That sounds eclectic.”

“Comes with who I am; the whole package deal is a little unconventional. Hopefully you can handle that.”

“Hmm,” Changbin hums, then tsks, “might be a little difficult. A neon-clad, blue-haired musician and a boring, black-haired librarian that only owns dark clothes. We’re gonna be quite the duo.”

“Come on,” Jeongin whines, “you’ve gotta have a little neon in that closet of yours.”

“Nope. You can be the neon, and I’ll be the night, since it’s neon night, after all. Yin and yang. Light and dark.”

There’s a soft chuckle on the other line. “Can’t have the day without the night, huh?”

“When you put it that way,” Changbin starts, but lets his voice trail off. Musicians sure seemed to be good with words. He couldn’t help but wonder, with a silver tongue like that, if Jeongin wrote the lyrics for the small punk group he was a part of. Come to think of it, a punk bassist in neon was an interesting mental image, almost some sort of visual dissonance.

“What are you wearing?” Jeongin pulls Changbin from his thoughts, voice a bit lower than it was prior.

The question perplexed Changbin as he mentally thumbed through the clothes in his closet. “I dunno, probably my Bad Religion t-shirt so I’m noticeable and some ripped skinny jeans. Think it roughly fits the non-neon aesthetic. Is that fine?”

“Perhaps I should’ve phrased that better.” A laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

Changbin knots his eyebrows together and cards a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you mean, then. I figured it would fit for the location, and—“

“I meant right now.” The bluntness in Jeongin’s statement is jarring.

“Oh.” Changbin can’t manage much else, his brain slowly grinding its gears around as he tried to get back into the right mental space for… this.

This was really fucking happening. Not just a delusional fantasy he had hoped for.

He must have taken too long thinking about it, because Jeongin frantically starts stuttering on the other line. “Wait, no, sorry,” he starts, “that was abrupt. I’m sorry, like, shit, we’ve barely spoken for more than an hour to each other and I’m already trying to pull something like this and I probably just came off as—“

“What do you want me to wear right now?” It comes out a bit too naturally, too smoothly off of Changbin’s tongue, like it was obvious he wanted to see where this would go.

A beat passes. “Ideally?” Jeongin quietly whispers, shuffling a bit on his end. “I’d want you naked. But I don’t think I want you there yet.”

Changbin’s heart was about to beat out of his chest and his dick responded in kind, slowly pressing up against his briefs more and more as his blood coursed through his veins. “Not yet, you say? How come?”

“I don’t like instant gratification. If you can’t work for it, what’s the point?”

“Interesting. Am I working for it, or are you?” Changbin’s free hand slips down to the hem of his shirt, playing with a loose string, rolling it nervously between his thumb and index finger.

Jeongin hums. “Tonight? I don’t usually do this, since I like to be the one in control, but it’s been so long, I’ll make an exception.”

In the seven years that Changbin had been an adult, he had only tried phone sex once, and it was awkward. Chan was in northern California for work, and they were both drunk and lonely. They tried to make it work, but the pacing was off, the phrasing was awkward, especially since Chan didn’t try to experiment with dirty talk, and they ended up falling asleep on each other.

This, though, simply felt different and exciting.

“What if I don’t want you to be naked?” Changbin tugged harder at the string, starting to rip it from the hem, slowly unravelling it and ruining the stitching of his shirt. It didn’t matter, he hardly noticed. He could tear his shirt apart completely and he still wouldn’t have cared.

“Seems like you like to make people work for it, too.” Jeongin shuffled on the other line again, his voice a bit clearer, like he was closer to the phone. “Maybe you like to do questionable things in questionable places. I don’t know you well — at all, actually — but I just get this feeling about you. The quiet ones are always the fun, adventurous ones.”

“It must be true, then.” Changbin pauses to take in a breath, to calm his nerves over what he was about to say to a stranger over the phone. “I thought about you today while I was working on a catalogue for our archives. It’s a boring, thoughtless job sometimes, allows me to have a lot of time to let my mind wander. I was leaning up against the desk, pen in hand, and all I could think about was how pretty your voice would sound as I slowly fucked into you, made you beg to me to go faster, but I’d just slow down.” The string detached from Changbin’s shirt, yet he continued to roll it between his fingers.

Jeongin’s breathing started to pick up on the other end. “What else?”

Changbin discarded the string haphazardly and nestled the receiver in the crook of his neck, shuffling his shorts and briefs down just enough for his dick to spring out. “I’d bite the back of your neck all the way up your ear. Tell you to stay quiet, since you were being too loud and whiny, that you’d be the reason we’d get caught.”

“Yeah,” a pant, “can’t have us getting caught. It’d be quite a rush, getting fucked by the hot, nerdy librarian when he’s supposed to be working.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Changbin grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, haphazardly squirting some of it all over his crotch, somewhat missing his dick in his rush. “The only thing I’d be working would be your cock in my hand. Make you whine, make you fucking miserable as I bring you so close to coming but keep you hanging, begging for me to let you come.” He tossed the bottle on to the floor, then mopped up some of the stray lube off of his stomach, then moved to stroke himself a bit hastily. It had been so long, and to actually have an intimate connection with another human being, albeit over the phone, was enough excitement to have him close to the edge already.

Jeongin must have had a similar idea, because his laboured breathing comes over the line in a constant rhythm. “Maybe I don’t wanna take it slow.”

“Maybe I don’t care.”

“Oh,” the other man sounded a bit shocked, gasping quietly. “You’re interesting, mister sexy librarian. What if I decided to push back? Literally? Bring my hips back up against yours, grind my ass up on you and make you whine and make you fucking miserable?”

“Shit,” Changbin growled, not expecting that kind of reaction. “I might have to grab you by the hair, push you down into the desk and give a needy little brat like you exactly what you want.” The thought was almost too much. He knew he was getting close; he should’ve slowed the pacing down with his hand, but he couldn’t stop. Instead, he was increasing his pace and tightening the grip at the top of his hand a bit more. “How would you like that?”

“Fuck,” Jeongin sounds like he’s completely lost in the moment, breathing erratic and letting full gasps and moans escape now. It sounded like some sort of wildly inappropriate choral music. “Changbin, that’s so fucking hot. I wish this was your hand around me instead. It feels so good, but it’s not enough.” Changbin lets out a choked whine, lost in the thought of what Jeongin looked like as he jerked himself off. “Ah, Changbin, I need you so badly. To feel you around me, inside me, and I—“

Suddenly, the light on the edge of Changbin’s desk went out and Jeongin’s voice went silent. The ambient humming that usually filled his apartment was dead. It appeared as if his part of LA got wrapped up in a sudden blackout, since everything everywhere was dark and quiet.

This couldn’t have come at a more horrible time.

Changbin let out an exasperated, desperate yell in frustration. As he angrily tossed the receiver to the side, causing the entire phone to go flying, he stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and swore that he was never going to try phone sex again.

Zero for two. Phone sex was cursed.

Even though today was the day that Changbin was finally going to meet Jeongin for their date, he was in an absolutely dreadful mood. Sure, after the power went out for the entire night, he had managed to get himself off, but it was lacklustre and nowhere near as good as he was anticipating it to be with his conversation with Jeongin. The pathetic way that the younger man mewled his name followed him like a shadow all day, echoing in the space between his ears all day.

“Changbin,” the voice taunted him, “I need you so badly.”

He groaned and leaned up against his archive desk, not even bothering to try to pay attention to his work. There was no way he was going to get anything done while he was too distracted thinking about fucking this stranger up against it, pushing his face into the mass of open books and large parchment. They would knock off all of the paraphernalia, pens clattering like raindrops against the ground, sound being absorbed by the walls of books surrounding them. God, how good it would be to hear his name coming from those lips one more time.

“I wish this was your hand around me instead.”

His eyes lulled to the corner of the table, pushing up his glasses to better focus on a cheap digital clock showing 15:40 in bright red lights. “Goddammit,” Changbin grumbled to himself and let his head collide against the open book in front of him. The tension in his slacks was causing time to inch by impossibly slow, like he was stuck in molasses. He had less than five and a half hours to go until he would finally meet the man the engrossed his entire mind for the past 48 hours and he couldn’t wait to give Jeongin a taste of the thoughts that consumed him.

Only a bit over five hours, now. He could do this.

Changbin had to have mentally pored over his entire appearance several times as he showered. Glasses? No, those would just be a nuisance; it’d be best to just suffer with a little bit of blurry vision for distant things. Besides, he was going to be seeing crazy shit halfway through their date, if they hit it off well enough to trip together.

So, no glasses. One thing off the list.

After his shower, Changbin thumbed through his closet, lost in a sea of black and indigo clothing, with a couple of odd white button up shirts that were frequently ignored. His graphic shirts were towards the left-hand side, reserved for his days off and the nights he’d go out with Minho and Seungmin, where he tried to look as normal as possible, and not like the dweeby librarian everyone knew him to be. It took several flicks of the thumb, but he eventually found the Bad Religion shirt he promised he was going to wear. That, and the torn up black skinny jeans he already had on his bed, were the only things Jeongin had to go off of.

Changbin was desperately hoping that Jeongin would find him in the sea of people that would be there. If this date flopped, he was going to hide for weeks in embarrassment, showing up to something so high energy looking like a black cloud of doom and gloom and dateless. The first half of that was tolerable, but to be dateless after all of that would be devastating to his ego.

Thankfully, Jeongin was going to be the visual antithesis to Changbin’s all-black attire. He was going to be like a dark cloud, a shadow to be passed over, and Jeongin would be that bright ray of vivid neon pink and teal blue. They’d be eyesores in their own rights, but it wouldn’t matter. Nobody would really be paying close attention to them tonight; neon nights were always the nights where people would get drugged out, smoke weed openly and fuck in the washrooms, and everyone would let go of their faux daily life personas and be carefree for one night.

It didn’t take long for Changbin to change into his outfit. He turned his head to look at his nightstand, squinting to make out the time on the clock. 19:52. All he needed to do was fuss over his appearance in the mirror while he would throw on some eyeliner. He would then fix his hair, gelling it into some sort of puffed out “just woke up” look that would just deflate after an hour of hanging around a humid, cramped environment packed with people. Maybe he’d wear those knee-high platform combat boots he only wore once to a concert a couple years ago.

First impressions were important, even if he knew he’d look like a mess at the end of the night. He wanted to prove to Jeongin that librarians could, in fact, be hot and sexy, even if it wasn’t in the conventional ways society would prefer.

The platform combat boots were a bad idea.

It wasn’t a far walk, but as Changbin waited in line outside of The Roxanne, he was constantly adjusting his feet and kicking the toes of his boots against the firm concrete of the sidewalk. He knew he’d be off of his feet soon enough, but getting to that point was proving to be brutal. The line slowly moved, people gradually being allowed in after paying the cover fee. Changbin flicked his arm, looking at the silver Royal Oak decorating his wrist, eyeing the time. 21:05.

He huffed, furrowing his brows and staring at the gunpowder grey backdrop of his watch. This was his lucky watch that his parents gifted him for graduating with his master’s degree last year. It was what he wore for his interview at UCLA, almost positive he wouldn’t get the entry-level librarian position he applied for, since it was heavily competitive, but he somehow managed to get it. It was the watch he wore when he and Minho signed for their shoddy apartment. It was what he wore when he gained the courage to call Jeongin.

Maybe superstition was stupid, but Changbin really wanted to put all of his cards on the table and risk believing in it tonight.

The line continued to shuffle forward, and Changbin’s nerves started to really consume him. On the outside, he tried to look cool and composed, his thumbs gently tucked into the belt loops of his pants, shoulders tucked back, head propped upright. Internally, however, he was very much the opposite of the cool-guy persona he was putting on. If he could scream and still be seen as sane, he absolutely would.

Another couple of steps. Changbin pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, sliding out his driver’s licence and a fiver as he approached the sturdily built man that stood outside of the front door. The man didn’t bother looking at his licence and just took the bill from him. They exchanged no words, the man just tilting his head towards the door, and Changbin simply walked in.

His fingers trembled a bit as he anxiously jammed his licence back into his wallet, exchanging it for a ten-dollar-bill, and returned the billfold to his back pocket. A long sigh escaped his lips as scanned the room, seeing no one with teal hair and a bright pink shirt as he approached the bar, finding a spot where he could keep an eye on the front door. He waved down one of the bartenders, who glided over towards him on her skates as she smiled at him.

“Hey there, what can I get ya?” She smiled at him, excitedly tapping her hands on the wooden countertop.

Changbin passed her the cash and shrugged. “A gin and tonic is fine. I don’t care what kind of gin you use.”

“You got it,” she skated away, off to make his drink.

Again, Changbin looked down to his watch. 21:21. The lights flickered off nine minutes early, UV lighting illuminating the entire rink, save the halogen lights by the washrooms, entrance, and most of the bar. The bartender returned with Changbin’s drink and his change.

“Quinine sure is fascinating, ain’t it? I love anything with tonic water on neon nights. Lemme know if you need anything else, buttercup.” She smiled, then skated away to her next customer before Changbin could make any sort of commentary. He stared wildly at his drink, literally glowing in a nuclear shade of blue, wondering if it had been adulterated. Quinine. He recognized the word from one of his organic chemistry texts from university, but the details of it escaped him.

Fuck it. Might as well just drink it.

He fumbled the cash into his right pocket, not bothering to stuff it back into his wallet. There was no way he was going to stand up in these fucking shoes unless he absolutely had to. Another glance to his watch. 21:24. Changbin grumbled under his breath, bringing the glass cup to his lips, biting the plastic straw between his teeth as he sucked up some of the toxic-looking liquid and he looked to the door. The drink nearly went everywhere as his eyes went wide and he saw a human glow stick walk in.

Neon pink shirt. Hair as violently blue as his own drink, topped with a purple beret. This was his human glow stick. It was fucking Yang Jeongin, actually here, in the flesh. Changbin didn’t even try to doubt it.

The black-haired man dipped his head down in nervousness, his heartbeat thrumming so loudly, it overtook the music being played over the loud speakers behind him. He had gotten this far, but Changbin had no idea what to do now. These men had essentially fucked over the phone just the night prior — well, they had attempted to, for all intents and purposes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How do people do blind dates? In the six years he spent studying research and analysis, he never came across something like this in his texts and papers. The countless nights he spent researching the human connection and other psychological and sociological theories had meant jack shit when it actually came to experiencing them in person. If his hair wasn’t well-coiffed, Changbin would be nervously running his fingers through his hair and biting off every single fingernail he could. It had been years since he dated, and this could go very poorly.

Something inside of him compelled him to look again. Perhaps the human glow stick was a figment of his imagination, the wrong person. Something. Anything. Anyone other than Yang Jeongin. Changbin sucked down another large swig of his drink, and turned his head slightly, and saw that the glow stick was scanning the bar. Changbin was about to turn away out of nervousness when they made eye contact.

He hadn’t consumed any questionable substances other than a couple sips of his drink, but it was like a fire had been set alight within him, burning away some of his anxiety and replacing it with a sense of confidence. That was definitely Jeongin, the gaze they exchanged with each other left no room for question.

The younger man smiled, biting his lip as he excitedly trekked up to Changbin. He stopped in front of him, gazing down at the older man’s shirt, then wiggling a bit in joy as he opened his mouth.

“Please tell me you’re Seo Changbin, otherwise you’re going to be very disappointed tonight.”

“Well,” Changbin couldn’t help but half-smirk with a bit of a cocky arrogance he didn’t know he had. He set his drink down on the bar and leaned on his elbow, slowly looking up at the neon-clad man. “That depends on who’s asking, don’t you think?” He used the first words Jeongin spoke at him against him, and the younger man giggled.

“Yang Jeongin, at your service. Raspberry beret included. Still the best year in music this decade.” The blue-haired man winks and leans in close, very close to the older man, as he then rests his arms on the countertop, flagging down the same bartender as before. She nods and starts working on a drink without even talking to him. The young man sits back on his heels and boldly slaps a hand on Changbin’s thigh. He moves in, right up next to the black-haired man’s ear, lips practically touching it as he lowers his voice to a whisper. “You know, Changbin, librarians aren’t supposed to be hot and sexy, but man, am I glad I’ve been proven wrong.”

Changbin may have been nervous as all hell just a few minutes ago, but now he had a sneaking feeling that maybe, just maybe, this date was going to work out after all.

The two of them share a couple of drinks at the bar, really hitting it off. Jeongin doesn’t lift his hand from Changbin’s thigh, which the elder doesn’t mind, slowly getting the courage to place his hand on top of it after their second drink. At some point, Jeongin sticks his tongue out in defiance, showing off a neon green tongue ring on bright display, and Changbin is impressed.

“I’m full of a lot of secrets, you know.” The younger man teases, aimlessly biting on his straw.

“I guess I’m gonna have to slowly unwrap you in order to find out all of those secrets, huh?” Thanks to the alcohol, Changbin’s a lot smoother than he thinks he is, realizing that the words sounded a lot less innocuous than he intended. He blinks rapidly and stumbles over his words. “Sorry,” he apologizes, then rubs his forehead with his free hand. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“That was a good pickup line,” the blue-haired man giggles into his drink, emptying the contents of the glass, then slamming it down on the counter. He takes his newly-freed hand and rests his head in his palm, happily smiling at the man in front of him. “Now what?”

Changbin gently sets his drink on the counter, then reaches into his left pocket, scooping up the dime bag from the other day, tucking it into the palm of his hand. “I got these from Seungmin the other day. Kind of a strange question, but,” he looks up to the younger man and licks his bottom lip, “you trust me enough to get a little tripped out?”

Jeongin excitedly shimmies his shoulders back and forth a couple of times. “You’re friends with Seungmin, so that’s good enough for me. Whatcha got on the menu for tonight, hmm?”

“Something pretty to go right up next to that tongue ring of yours.” Changbin takes his hand off of Jeongin’s, inconspicuously fiddling with the bag. He pulls out a small baby pink square of paper, briefly flashing it at the younger man. “I can take it first if you don’t trust me.”

Jeongin doesn’t say anything, only moving in a bit closer, and he sticks his tongue out, mouth wide open, everything shiny with saliva and on full display. He looks up to Changbin with pleading eyes and makes a little cooing noise.

Changbin let his eyes flutter shut for a brief second as he sharply inhaled through his nose and then shifted in his seat in mild discomfort. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded as he grabbed Jeongin’s chin, lightly tugging him closer for a moment, as he pressed the paper onto the moist, warm tongue in front of him. “I’m ready to get burned with fire, though.” He wastes no time to pluck the second piece of paper from the plastic bag, pressing it against his own tongue. “Let everything chill out on your tongue for a while, alright?”

“You say that like you think I’ve never dropped acid before, dude.” The younger man smiled widely, then tugged at Changbin’s hand, pulling him up to his feet. “Let’s go get some skates and roll around while we wait.”

Changbin’s eyes went wide and his feet screamed at him as he was jostled upright. It was going to hurt, but it didn’t matter. A bit of discomfort would be worth it to see the joyful look on Jeongin’s face as they glided around on the polished floor, waiting for the colours to slowly meld together and wrap around them in a hazy, yet incandescent rainbow.

“Wait a second,” Jeongin cackles and drops the laces of his skates. “You mean to tell me you’re twenty-five and you’ve never been good at skating? Dude. Your childhood must’ve been boring as shit.”

“Come on,” Changbin drawls, sighing as he pouts at the younger man. “The only physical activity I really like is weightlifting, and that’s not even a frequent hobby of mine. I’d rather get baked after work and listen to records while laying on the floor.” The two men stare at each other for a minute, then burst into laughter.

“Alright, I can see you getting baked, but weightlifting? As if, man.” Jeongin shakes his head and bends back down to finish tying his laces. “Librarians aren’t supposed to be buff and shit, that’s not how that works at all.”

A sarcastic huff escapes Changbin’s lips. He drops to the floor, grabbing Jeongin’s hands and looking up to the younger man, his face getting dangerously close, close enough to almost brush their lips together. They stare at each other for a moment, the air stilling around them, before the older man moves to touch their cheeks together, lips against Jeongin’s ear. “You also said librarians aren’t supposed to be hot, but I proved you wrong with that, too.” Changbin lets go of Jeongin’s hands, moving them to dance his fingertips against the top of the neon man’s thighs. “Let me see how many times I can prove you wrong tonight.”

Jeongin lets out a shaky gasp, pressing his cheek up against the older man’s, moving in close as if he was about to kiss him, but Changbin pulls away too quickly, winking at him before he moves down to help tie his laces. “God,” the younger man sighs, throwing his head back and subtly rolling his hips in his chair to readjust, “you’re a tease, man. That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair sometimes. Gotta have the dark to appreciate the light.” Changbin smirks to himself as he finishes knotting the laces in his hands. He makes his way to his feet, awkwardly stumbling a bit before he reaches his hands down in front of Jeongin. “Shall we?”

Jeongin takes one of Changbin’s hands and helps himself upright. “Awfully confident for someone who can’t skate.” He smiles, then gently tugs the older man towards the open air of the entrance of the rink.

Changbin sucks air in through his teeth as he starts to move, flailing his free hand a bit as he awkwardly shuffles his feet to help him move with a bit more purpose. They step on to the glossy hardwood floor, and Jeongin spins around, skating backwards as he pulls Changbin along. He reaches out for the older man’s other hand, which Changbin carefully reaches down and grabs. They interlace their fingers together, staring longingly at each other.

“I trusted you with the acid,” Jeongin says at a volume just loud enough to carry over the song roaring through the speakers, “now trust me with the skating, yeah?”

Changbin nods, his face slightly wrinkled up in nervousness. He bites his lip, starting to get the hang of the way they slid around the floor, only having some issues with the rounded corners. People were flying past them, but it didn’t matter. The only thing Changbin wanted to focus on was Jeongin.

“You’re getting it,” the younger man smiled, standing totally upright and pulling the older man closer to him, maybe just a few centimetres away from each other. They smile softly at one another, slowing down a bit as Changbin started to get lost in the way the brilliant lighting warmed against Jeongin’s face, highlighting his high cheekbones and his soft lips.

There was nothing more that Changbin wanted than to kiss those lips.

As he was leaning in, Jeongin let go of his hands. “You teased me earlier,” he scoffed, “now you’ve gotta earn that kiss.” He looks over his shoulder, then turns back and smiles. “You’ve gotta make one full loop around: from the entrance and back. Then you’ll have earned that kiss from me.”

Changbin opens his mouth to protest, flailing around a bit, and Jeongin winks and practically flies away on his skates. He grits his teeth and huffs. “I’m gonna show you, goddammit.” The black-haired man frowns in determination, getting bolder with each stride he takes. Jeongin loops around again when he’s about halfway through, sticking his tongue out and blowing him a kiss as he spins around and jumps up into the air, landing perfectly back onto his feet. The younger man is off in a flash again, a trail of pink following him as he rolls away.

Oh. Changbin shakes his head as he comes around a corner. The acid had started to kick in and things got a little brighter, colours blurring together in the distance, lazily trailing around in a stutter as he moved around. He stared at the entrance of the rink, maybe fifty metres away, smiling to himself as he got closer and closer. At about twenty metres, Jeongin flew past him and veered off towards the wall, waiting with a smile.

As he approached Jeongin, Changbin intentionally didn’t slow down as much as he should have. He slowed a bit, and the younger man winced a bit and recoiled, preparing for a rough impact. However, the crash never came. Changbin pressed his hands into Jeongin’s chest as he got close, gently colliding against him, both of them landing against the wall.

They didn’t say anything. Changbin snaked a hand to Jeongin’s hip, and another up under his jaw, pulling it up into his. Their lips danced up against each others’, and there’s an electrical feeling that runs through Changbin’s veins, a spark between them. Their noses brush, nuzzling into the other as their lips open.

Jeongin tastes like lemon-lime soda and vodka, his tongue feeling almost like it was still covered in carbon dioxide as it rolled around Changbin’s. The older man digs his thumb into the younger man’s hip, causing a muffled squeak to roll up into his throat. An explosion of yellows and greens cloud Changbin’s vision as sounds start to translate into colours and haptic sensations.

It almost feels like they’re meant to be. Jeongin is the treble to Changbin’s bass. The light to his darkness. He is the neon glow stick to his dark, unlit candle. It may have been the drugs and the alcohol heightening everything, but from the way their humour complemented each other, to their oddities being so different yet similar, to the way that how sweet Jeongin’s kiss was against Changbin’s sour lips, everything was perfect.

“You’re perfect,” Changbin breathes into Jeongin’s mouth. “I don’t know why,” he pulls the younger man’s bottom lip gently between his teeth as he pulls away, staring up into half-open eyes, “but I just feel it.” The synth music beating along in the background practically pushes them closer, inviting them to stay wrapped up into one another.

Jeongin pushes back up against Changbin’s lips for a quick, hasty kiss that feels like electric pink and sparkling green. “It’s the drugs, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“I’m serious,” Changbin smiles at the sweetness of Jeongin’s lips against his again. “Like, your cheekbones. They’re so prominent, sharp, perfect. Your whole face just radiates brilliance. It’s like all of the colours dance off of your face and wrap it in this warm energy that demands attention.”

“Your lips are perfect,” Jeongin retorts with a laugh. “The way that your face wrinkles up when you smile. I wanna take that in, make you laugh for hours just to watch you scrunch your face together. Listen to the way your laugh staccatos discordantly against the music playing in the background.”

A warmth spreads in Changbin’s stomach, deep purples and pinks blending around the edges of his vision. It was time. He decides to finally bite the bullet, swallowing hard as he tries to keep his volume low enough for only Jeongin to hear him, “I wanna hear you say it again.”

There’s a short pause as Jeongin stills. “What’re you talking about?”

Changbin pushes Jeongin into the wall, rubbing his waist against the younger man’s. “Last night,” he trails his lips up Jeongin’s cheek, all the way up to his ear, “you told me you wanted me. Needed me.”

There’s a burst of orange as Jeongin laughs. “That’s right, isn’t it? Whatcha gonna do if I tell you that again, now that I have you here in my hands?” His hands quickly slap up against Changbin’s ass, grabbing it tightly. “We’re still in public, baby.”

A strangled moan accidentally comes from Changbin, feeling every nerve in his spine erupt in baby blues and jarring yellows at the younger man’s touch. “I don't care where we are. I’m gonna give you what you want,” he whispers, nibbling on the earlobe in front of him. “I’m going to steal you away, pull you away into the washroom, and I’m gonna fuck you up against the tiling or the wallpaper or whatever dingy shit they’ve got in there.”

It was like nobody was around, not that anyone was paying attention, anyways. The two of them ground up against each other, practically fucking as everyone went along with their lives around them. They were far from the only ones becoming so acquainted on the hardwood floor, but it didn’t matter. As far as Changbin was concerned, they were the only two people in the room, in the entire building, in the entire world.

“It’s tiling,” Jeongin whispers and bites Changbin’s ear, causing a neon rainbow, rippling in time to the music around them, to cloud his vision. “I let you take control over the phone last night, so I’m gonna do the fucking tonight. Come on.”

Changbin doesn’t have the wherewithal to protest as he’s dragged away by Jeongin, pulling them off towards the flickering, nauseatingly yellow-tinted halogen that illuminated the washroom door. Somehow, they had gotten lucky and nobody was in the entire washroom. They roll into the large stall towards the back. Jeongin locks the door behind them and pushes Changbin against the back wall, crashing their lips together.

The weird mixture of normal lighting with blacklight paints a strange picture against the back of Changbin’s eyelids. Each grazing of Jeongin’s teeth on his lips causes purple lines to streak down a backdrop of orange and crimson.

Warm. Jeongin was warm. Everything about him radiated warm colours and energy, even if his hair was the opposite of that.

Jeongin trails his lips down Changbin’s neck, and he grazes his teeth against the soft skin. “Wait,” the older man quietly protests, “don’t do anything that’ll leave a mark there.”

“Why not?” Jeongin looks up to the older man and smirks. “Afraid your coworkers and students are gonna find out you’re actually a bit of a freak who wants to get fucked in public?”

“Actually,” Changbin huffs, “kinda, yeah. Anything below the neck is fair game, though.

“I respect that.” Jeongin huffs, tugging the loose neckline of Changbin’s shirt down, exposing his collarbone. “Oh,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side. “781?”

Changbin hums, flushing in slight embarrassment, as he feels Jeongin’s eyes on his tattoo. “Dewey Decimal Classification. Music theory call number. That’s why there’s a treble clef next to it.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. That’s hot as hell.” The younger man groans, then starts desperately sucking and biting up against the sensitive flesh.

Changbin doesn’t try to hide a needy whine at the sensation of Jeongin’s teeth against his skin. His hips roll up subconsciously, craving for some sort of stimulation against his growing erection. “Jeongin,” he whimpers, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

The younger man relinquishes the skin from his teeth. “Funny,” he says, standing up and looking down at the older man, pressing their hips together. “Neither do I.”

They wantonly kiss each other as they fumble with their pants. Jeongin tosses his beret to the floor, pulling out a condom and a small, travel-sized bottle of lube out from his back pocket. “As much as I love kissing those lips of yours and looking at your face,” he pulls away, quickly pressing a kiss to Changbin’s forehead, “this is gonna be a lot easier if you turn around.”

A nervous laugh bubbles up from Changbin as he somehow manages to roll around, pressing his hands up against the clammy tiling. He bends over slightly, pressing his hips against Jeongin’s crotch, eliciting a small groan from the younger man. Within a moment, thumbs are haphazardly tugging his waistband down, exposing his skin to the warm, open air.

“Your ass is really nice,” Jeongin takes in a quick breath and ghosts his fingers over the smooth skin.

“You say that now,” Changbin whispers as streams of green drift up from the corners of his vision, “but wait until you’re actually inside me.”

A desperate huff comes from Jeongin. “Fuck,” he groans, squeezing some lube on to his fingers and bringing his hand up to the older man’s perineum, dragging them up slowly to rub against his entrance. “I’ve been thinking about this nonstop since you told me you’d fuck me against your stupid work desk.” He coaxes a finger inside, and Changbin whines, rubbing his cheek against the dingy washroom tile. “I was ready to come right then and there. I didn’t know you’d be that much of a freak when Seungmin told me you were a librarian.”

Jeongin’s finger curls around a bit as he explores around, causing Changbin to let out soft little pants as his skin stretched against the finger. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he manages to grumble in between pants, “or how freaky I am. Maybe one day I’ll show you my collection of glass sex toys I keep hidden under my bed.”

Another finger slips in, and another moan loudly comes from the panting librarian. “Keep it down. Don’t wanna get kicked out with a hard-on, do you?” Changbin weakly nods, his eyes rolling back as he bites his lips and moves against Jeongin’s fingers. The younger man continues to stretch the sensitive skin as he gently rolls both of his fingers around, occasionally separating them in a scissoring-like motion.

Changbin bites back a loud, throaty moan, bringing his hand up to his mouth so he can bite on his knuckle. Colours rippled around in discordant patterns, roughly clashing up against each other, sparks of white popping up at random. “Jeongin,” he whines out, voice slightly muffled.

The younger man shudders at the sound of his name being uttered, and he slips his ring finger inside. As soon as the finger is completely inside of Changbin, the older man throws his head back and slips a bit on his skates. Jeongin grabs his hip tightly with his free hand. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, in a soft, loving voice, “I’m not gonna let you fall. I’ll keep you safe right here, so let yourself go.”

Changbin’s hand leaves his mouth and slams up against the wall, curling his fingernails into the grout between the tiles. He closes his eyes tightly and loses himself in the sensation of being filled by three fingers, slowly working his way up to being prepared for whatever Jeongin’s dick was going to feel like inside of him. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was when Jeongin’s middle finger curled up against his prostate and he arched his back in surprise.

“Jeongin,” he panted, rubbing his cheekbone into the tile, “fuck, there, right there.”

“Don’t worry,” the younger man reassures him, “all in due time. Trust me, a bassist knows what he’s doing when it comes to his fingers.”

“That’s,” Changbin pants again, “a terrible fucking pun.”

Jeongin rubs all three of his fingers in a circle, causing the older man to writhe under him. “Yeah, yeah,” he coos, “you don’t seem to actually be complaining, though.”

“I’m only gonna complain if you don’t shut up and fuck me here soon,” Changbin whines through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna come unless it’s from your dick, alright?”

“Fine,” Jeongin grins, removing his fingers slowly, making sure to drag them down the walls of the sensitive skin around them. He pulls them out one by one, causing Changbin to twitch under him. Once his hand is free, he wrangles his cock from his pants, then rips the condom from the foil packet, sliding it onto him. He pulls the bottle of lube from his pocket, squirting a bit more onto his hand, stroking it on his cock. “You ready for me?”

“Yes,” Changbin turns his head, staring down Jeongin with half-lidded eyes. “I need you, Jeongin, please.”

The younger man smiles, then lines himself up against the elder’s entrance. “Whatever you want, babe.” Jeongin slides in, and the composure held in his face falters, lips parting and eyes rolling back a bit. His slick hand grabs Changbin’s other hip, digging his pinky and thumb tightly into his skin as he slowly makes his way completely inside. “Yeah, you were right. Your ass is much nicer now that I’m inside of you.”

“I know, I know. Jeongin, please, shut up and fuck me,” Changbin whines, rapidly panting as he’s filled. “I just wanna feel you fuck me senseless.”

“Needy,” Jeongin hisses through his teeth as he pulls back, then slams back into Changbin, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the tiling and linoleum, overtaking the muffled sounds of the electronica from the other room.

Everything felt and looked so much more vibrant thanks to the acid. Every thrust was another colour splattered up recklessly in Changbin’s vision. Sparks of light went flying every time Jeongin hit his prostate. Sex usually felt wonderful to Changbin; he wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs specifically, or if it was Jeongin, or if it was both, but he was sure of one thing: this was an out-of-body experience. His mind was floating up in the sky, up along the stars, as if he was the main character in some bad science fiction space film.

“Jeongin,” he panted, continuing to cry out the younger man’s name like a mantra.

The blue-haired man panted heavily, taking the hand previously inside Changbin and wrapping it around his cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. “You feel so good, baby, I’m gonna make a mess out of you.”

The colours in Changbin’s vision slowly started to turn white, ribbons of pink and blue in the shades of Jeongin wrapping around the edges of his sight. “Shit,” a throaty moan escaped his throat, “I’m gonna come, Jeongin, don’t fucking stop. Fuck, please don’t stop. Don’t stop. Ah, god, fuck, I—“

His back arched, fingernails dragging down the walls as Changbin tried, and failed, to keep himself from shouting Jeongin’s name at a loud volume. The younger man pumped him one last time, and cum splattered up against the wall, dripping down onto the floor, as the older man collapsed into the tiling.

“Fuck, that’s so good, you’re so good, Changbin,” he pulled back and then slammed into the older man one more time, curling into his back a bit, stabilizing his stance by gripping Changbin’s hip. He spilled his cum into the condom, and the two of them stood there and panted for what seemed like forever.

After several minutes, Jeongin pulled out, shakily standing back upright. “What the fuck was that, dude?” He laughed, and Changbin managed to stumble himself back up to a vertical position.

The older man rapidly blinked as he came back down from space, and he let out a long sigh. “Amazing, that's what that was,” he pulled his pants up from off of the floor, haphazardly fastening the button of his jeans together just enough. Changbin awkwardly rolls a bit, then pulls Jeongin into him by the neck, the two of them exchanging a warm, soft kiss with each other.

They kiss for only a moment or so. “We should probably clean up a little bit and then get out of here.” Jeongin chuckles once. “You kind of made a mess and I’m sure we probably scared off some people.

“You’re the reason I made that mess,” Changbin quips. “Besides, we’re not the only ones that have fucked in here tonight, I bet. We won’t be the last, either.”

After a bit of awkwardly shuffling around in skates, some commentary about never fucking in roller skates again, and a bit of cleanup, they emerge from the stall. Jeongin rolls over to the sink to wash his hands, smiling at Changbin through the mirror. “I think I’m gonna like you,” he says, and the older man makes eye contact with him through the mirror, then rolls up next to him.

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss up to the younger man’s cheek and adjusts the beret on his head. “You say that now, but wait until I go on a rant about the Library of Congress’ organizational system versus the Dewey Decimal Classification, or about how dumb university students can be.”

Jeongin turns his head and gently kisses Changbin’s lips as water drips down from his hands. “It’ll be cute, I bet. You had me hooked at listening to records and smoking weed while laying on the floor, but nerdy ranting? Icing on the cake, man.”

Changbin scoffs and grabs a couple of towels from the dispenser behind the younger man. “Stop dripping all that water over my skates, dude. Maybe you should come home with me and we can find out just how fun that all actually turns out to be.”

“I think that’s—“ Jeongin starts to speak, taking the towels from Changbin, until they’re distracted by the loud squeaking of the washroom door. They both turn to look at the noise, and Changbin’s not really sure if he’s imagining what he’s seeing due to drugs.

“Changbin?” The voice of the intruder sounds as shocked as Changbin feels.

“Chan?” Jeongin squints as his face as he looks at the man that walks in.

The three of them awkwardly stare at each other, and Changbin frowns. “You know him?” He asks Jeongin, who stares back at him with wide eyes.

Jeongin shrugs his shoulders. “It was, like, a year or so ago, but yeah. You slept with him, too?”

[arknights-imagines]

Mostima's reaction to seeing that Bison is also contracted to Rhodes Island. While Doctor deals with Bison who's first day isn't exactly easy either ?

Tysm for the request anon! ✨ I liked the ideo of Bison's first day at Rhodes Island going bad and him being able to relate to the Doctor who didn't exactly have the smoothest start either loll 💞 anyways, let the event imagines begin! I hope I did both Bison and Mostima justice 🌸🥺

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Another Hectic Start

Imagine format; From the perspective of Bison for the most part

Contains: Bison, gender neutral Doctor, Mostima, Bison and Mostima briefly interacting, and Bison and the Doctor meeting eachother for the first time ✨

Word count: just over 2.4k!

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

How many rough starts could one person have? There was no possible way it could've been really happening; Bison was dreaming, he was sure. But, losing packages, bumping into people, tripping and falling on air, and getting completely lost didn't seem like things that would be in something as pleasant as a dream. Maybe it would be better described as a nightmare, but unfortunately, Bison was quite conscious.

The Forte had arrived at Rhodes Island early in the morning, bright and ready to put his best foot toward. He had contact with them before, but today was to be the day he began his work under Rhodes Island Pharmaceutical Inc. as per his contract. The opportunity to visit new places always excited him, but he was there for business purposes, so he had to stay focused.

Well, unfortunately, it seemed like the whole world was against him that day. He hadn't even met the person who he had to talk with about his contract yet, but he had already lost the packages he was meant to deliver whilst at Rhodes Island, bumped into multiple workers and staff; including a lab worker who left an uncomfortable stain on his shirt thanks to the beaker they split on him, tripped over his own feet in the middle of the hallway too many times, and gotten completely lost. It really was reminding him all too much of the night he first met Penguin Logistics, and it was too tiring to even think about.

Nevertheless, the Forte pushed on - he still had to find this 'Doctor' so he could discuss his contract. Bison turned another corner, looking this way and that. Looking around for a moment, he stopped before blinking, 'Have I…passed through here already?' There were so many intertwining halls that he wasn't sure where he was anymore. He had read the map of the Infrastructure complex that was near the main entrance, but now the location of the Doctor's office wasn't coming back to him.

'This day can't possibly get more eventful.' Bison had hoped he'd be able to complete his task smoothly, but it always seemed like otherworldly forces were out to mess his plans up.

The Forte wasn't sure what had gotten into him - he was typically good at keeping organized. Was it that the Rhodes Island complex was so big? He was usually decent at navigating around, so that couldn't possibly be it. Or, maybe; was it that all his surroundings were new? In any case, his head felt so fuzzy that he was having trouble thinking.

Bison sighed, tugging at his shirt while trying to ignore how it stuck to his skin thanks to the odd coloured liquid he had gotten split on him. He looked up and down the hall, his eyes stopping on a nearby vending machine. Maybe something to eat would help? Now that he thought about it, the last time he had eaten anything had been hours ago - something to eat wouldn't hurt.

Thankfully he had some change in his pocket, since it looked like the machine only took coins. Deciding on a colourfully wrapped granola bar, the Forte punched the corresponding number into the keypad before slipping his coin through the slot. Bison watched as the machine pushed this snack forward, and he waited for it to fall. Or, well, he was waiting for it to fall, when the machine stopped pushing the snack further, leaving it stuck behind the glass.

"....Huh?" Blinking at the machine, the Forte mumbled to himself out loud. The machine had taken his money, but his snack wasn't falling from its spot. Was the machine just malfunctioning for a second? It wasn't making any noise - his snack was definitely stuck. Bison huffed, hesitantly lifting his arms to shake the machine a little, careful not to break it. Even when he did that, the granola bar didn't budge. In an attempt to free his snack, the Forte then kicked the machine lightly and tried reaching through the little door at the bottom of the machine to grab his snack from inside.

"This…." Just as he was about to resort to punching the glass, a light voice cut through, grabbing his attention. "Ahaha, hey you. Is the machine giving you trouble?"

Bison blinked, turning around to see a familiar horned Sankta; "Ms. Mostima?" It was definitely her, the smile she always wore was easy to recognize. Still, he hadn't been expecting to see her, and by the looks of it, she seemed surprised to see him too.

She smiled at him, stepping toward the machine, "It jams sometimes, so you have to give it a little beating to get your snack." Mostima pulled a coin from one of her pockets, selecting the number for a small bag of colourful candies before feeding the machine her change.

"A little beating?" The Forte piped up, blinking when the machine failed to push her snack over the edge of its shelf too, leaving it stuck just like his still was. Just as he was about to speak up about how someone should definitely fix the machine, Mostima delivered a harsh kick to its side with a small grunt, causing Bison to jump a little.

Mostima smiled at him, looking a little amused at his baffled expression, "That should do it!" Just as she said, the two snacks fell from their shelves thanks to her 'little beating'. She bent over to retrieve their well earned snacks before turning back to Bison, still grinning, "I believe this belongs to you."

The Forte stared at her hand that was offering him his snack before nodding, "...Thank you." Accepting it, he looked back to Mostima, tilting his head to the wide a little, "Ms. Mostima, I wasn't expecting to run into you here."

Mostima chimed with a light laugh, "I'm surprised to see you too! I didn't think we'd see eachother again so soon." She grinned, placing one of her candies in her mouth, "I've got some work to do here, so I come by every now and then. What about you?" Bison paused, taking a second to finish biting his granola bar, "Me? I start my contract today. I'm still looking for the Doctor."

"Contract, huh?" Mostima blinked at him a little, looking him up and down, "Hah, you look a little rough! Did you run into trouble on your way here?" The Forte sighed, for a second he had almost forgotten about how much of a mess his day had become, "You could say that. I'm having some trouble…finding the Doctor."

Mostima hummed, "Did you check their office? Hm, well, come to think of it, they might be in one of the labs or meeting rooms right now." She looked back to Bison, smiling lightly, "They're a busy person, but compared to me, they're not too hard to find."

The Forte nodded, watching as Mostima finished her last candy, "I'm guessing this is where you take your leave?" She blinked at him, before chuckling lightly, "Ehehe, look at that! You're really getting the hang of me, huh?" Mostima stuffed the empty candy bag in her pocket before nodding, turning to look out of one of the large spanning windows nearby, "You're right, though. I've got some business to take care of here, but then I'm off to go elsewhere." Taking a moment, she looked back to Bison with a grin, patting his shoulder in a friendly manner. "I'll be going, then. Maybe now that we're both working here, we'll be seeing each other more often. Good luck on your search for the Doctor! Surely you'll find them soon." With a quick wave, Mostima was already off, disappearing down the hall and around the corner quickly. Quietly bidding her goodbye, the Forte sighed. Eating the last of his snack, he began making his way in the opposite direction.

'Hah, what a day.' It wasn't even sunset yet and he had already been sent on a rollercoaster, it really was odd to run into Mostima; now that he was supposed to begin working at Rhodes Island as well, they'd most definitely be seeing each other more often. That did remind him, however, that he still needed to find the Doctor. What a day, and he hadn't even gotten to his primary task yet.

The Doctor; where did one find the Doctor? Well, their name obviously suggested they'd be found in medical rooms, but their title wasn't exactly the most fitting - Bison knew that much. Still, where would someone like them be? Mostima mentioned an Office and meeting rooms, but he wasn't sure which of the many offices and meeting rooms she was referring to. Even after having his snack, Bison still felt like his energy was drained.

He looked around, there were stairs nearby, they seemed to lead to some higher deck. Maybe some air would help? It was a little stuffy. If anything, some fresh air couldn't possibly make his day any crazier. Once he had his thoughts organized, he would go searching for the Doctor again.

The stairs were a little lengthy, but once he climbed them and pushed open the door that laid at the top of the staircase, Bison was met with a pleasant breeze through his hair. The relief was definitely welcomed, considering how his day had been going for him. The deck was surprisingly wide, and the view was quite nice too. It was a good idea to take a small stop to get some air, to sum it up.

The Forte was about to walk toward the railing when he noticed a piece of paper blowing past him. Lifting a brow, he quickly rushed forward and grabbed it, making sure to hold it tightly so it wouldn't blow away again. Before he could figure out where it came from, quick footsteps and a small gasp followed by a hurried word of thanks cut in. Bison blinked, looking up to see someone rushing toward him, still thanking him.

"Did you lose this?" He asked, allowing them to catch their breath for a second. They nodded, "Yes, thanks for catching it, I was worried I'd have to get another copy." They looked at him with a smile, taking the paper back in their hand and returning it to its spot between other sheets of paper among the stack that was in their arms.

Bison looked them over for a minute; their jacket and voice sounded a little familiar, where had he seen him before? Before he could think about it, however, the person before him spoke up.

"I don't think I've seen you before. Are you a new Operator?" They asked, finished with organizing their papers. It was after they said that when the Forte realized who he was talking to - "Excuse me, are you the Doctor?" He asked, standing a little straighter.

At this question, they nodded with a small smile, "Yes, that's me. So, you are a new Operator, then?" Hiding his relief and thankfulness, Bison nodded, lifting his hand for them to shake - at least one thing has gone according to plan that day, "Yes, pleased to meet you, Doctor. My name is Bison." The Doctor shook his hand, grinning still, "Nice to meet you, Bison; you have a contract with Rhodes Island, right?"

"Yes, I look forward to working with you." The Forte replied, noticing how they looked him up and down, just like how Mostima had. "Sorry for asking, but what happened to your shirt?" The Doctor asked a little slowly. Bison blinked, before sighing lightly. Was it really that obvious that his day had gone rough? When he got back home, he needed a nice warm bath as soon as possible.

"Hah, yes. My day has been a little more eventful than I expected, and unfortunately my shirt got caught in the crossfire." He smiled lightly at them, "I'm hanging on, though."

The Doctor chimed with a small laugh, "You're having a rough start? I'm sorry, I can definitely understand that. My first day here was a little awful too, but that's a long story." Bison blinked, "Was it?" They replied with a small nod, taking a second before turning back to him, "I know you're here for a contract, but how would you like to see if we can make your day any better? I'd hate it if a new Operator had a bad first day here when I could've helped turn it around."

The Forte lifted a brow; what were they up to? Like Mostima had said, they were most definitely a busy person. Did they have time to spare for him just to help turn his day around?

"I wouldn't mind it, but I'm sure you have important things to attend to, Doctor." Bison replied, "Just tell me where you need my help and I'll get out of your way." To his surprise, the Doctor shook their head dismissively, "At least let me tour you around Rhodes Island? I know I got lost many times on my first day."

The Forte stared at them for a moment, looking out at the sky, "If you insist, I guess I could learn a lot from a tour of the place." He tugged at his shirt again, a little hesitant, "But, it's already sunset. Will there be time?"

The Doctor grinned at him, sparking a sudden warmth in his chest for a second, "If I've learned anything from my time here, is that it's never too late to turn anything around." They tucked their stack of papers beneath their arm, "Now, follow me, there's a lot of things I think you'll find are interesting around Rhodes Island, Bison."

Moving past him, they pushed the door to the stairs open, motioning for him to follow. Bison stared at their hurrying form for a second; he had only just met them, but they already felt like someone he had been working with for a long time. It was the warm feeling in his chest - this would definitely be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Maybe his day really could start going uphill; his shirt was still sticking to his chest, his packages were still missing, and he felt drained from bumping into so many people, but out of all of the things he had run into, the Doctor was the most pleasant surprise of the day.

Yes, he definitely looked forward to working with them. Bison let a light smile tug at his lips, "Thank you so much Doctor," following them, he got ready to put his best foot toward once again - this time for a more smoother start, "I'm right behind you, please lead the way."

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers 2.II (Josh Wheeler xF!Reader)

A/N: I should’ve told you this earlier lmao but the first half of this season is heavily inspired on the show’s podcast, meaning that the plot follows the podcast’s occurrences of the last episode, if you haven’t you should listen to it, pls -Danny

Words: 2,646

Warnings: Swearing

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to me!

It takes me about fifteen minutes to go back to the mall, my mood has improved and it only gets better once I see the main entrance. Josh made this graffiti of a sunrise on one of the stores' windows to represent our tribe: Daybreakers. I thought it'd be cool to make a bigger version of it and hang it outside the entrance; so that's where it's proudly hanging.

"Where were you?" Alex walks up to me. "We just got a whole box of medical stuff, we need to store them!"

"Glad I didn't miss it," I grin.

As I make my way through I get a glimpse of the small little groups that have settled on the mall and that you probably wanna know about. We'll get there, don't worry. We have time. Right now I have to hurry.

'I fell in love again All things go, all things go Drove to Chicago All things know, all things know'

Wesley passes by, he sees me and hollers.

"Our Doc is back! Any good news, Y/N?"

"Take a guess," I smile brightly. "I have to go and store some things, but I'll see you in a moment, okay?" Wesley raises a brow.

"I don't see why not," He smirks. "I have my own business to attend right now, anyway..."

"What business?" I ask.

"We had this idea for a race across the mall and it's about to start. I'm supposed to be the one who gives the green light so I gotta get moving."

When he says 'we' I know he means Angelica, Josh and him, they're always doing this fun and exciting competitions, and it's been barely a week! They're supposed to make us grow closer, we're about 80 people here, which is quite a lot. A mix of cheeramazons, gamers, former jocks, and og daybreakers. But I know pretty much everyone personally, I have to, I'm their healer after all.

'We had our mindset All things know, all things know You had to find it All things go, all things go'

"Who brought all of this?" I ask Alex while we put the little boxes on each shelf.

"Leila and Tyler, they were doing their rounds when they found this a few blocks away, they're mostly from abandoned houses..."

"Good job, Leila and Tyler," I say in amazement.

"So how did your meeting go?" Alex raises a brow.

"Oh my god, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders," I sigh heavily. "Sam finally accepted our offer, but there's a few things I need to talk with the others. I still think everything's fine, though."

"I'm glad, the jocks were the only tribe that was acting up, it was about time..."

"You know it was all Maya's fault. I hate her."

"Don't we all?" He snorts. "She's still living her best life?"

"Sam still has her there with her in the Queen's office, so of course."

"Y/N!" Angelica runs into the pharmacy and hugs me briefly. "Took you long enough! How did it go?"

"A total success," I grin, hugging her back. "But you know, since you're here I'd like to talk to you about some things the jocks are trying to get. I know you'll say no, but I'm still obliged to say it."

"So tell me."

"They're asking if it's on us to provide food for their movie nights."

"Fuck no! They have a full fuctioning orchard and they want us to give them more food?" Angelica frowns.

"It was Maya's idea," Alex says over his shoulder.

"Yes," I roll my eyes, "but Sam wasn't exactly against it, so I had to ask. I did tell them it wasn't likely to happen, so it's okay, we can say no, they agreed to it anyway."

"Good, because we won't agree to that."

"Done!" Alex turns around with satisfaction. "You can go and take off those skates. God, your poor feet must hate you."

"They're used to it," I laugh. "I won't say no to a well-deserved nap, though..."

"Now that we have all of those deals with the tribes, what's next?"

I'm about to answer when I see Josh approaching with his signature grin. He gets over to where I'm standing and lifts me off the ground in a swift movement. I'm aware we're being sickengly cute, but we're still in our 'honeymoon' phase, we tend to be cheesy. I laugh and put my arms around his neck before he puts me back down.

"How's your day going?" He asks me, clearly expecting to hear about the Jocks.

"Well, dearest leader," I smirk, taking off my backpack and rummaging through the papers. "I'm pleased to announce they finally accepted. They're trying to force us to provide the snacks, though. But all you have to say is no and that'll be it. Sam will understand, she's the one growing food, she can't expect us to give away ours."

"You're serious?" Josh asks. "That's awesome, Y/N! I knew you could do it!"

He leans down to kiss me, but before we even touch Angelica yells at us.

"Hey, if you guys can keep it in your pants for a moment," I hear her beside us. "KJ's looking for you at the gamers station."

"Oh," I frown. "What for?"

"I don't know, I think there's some problem with the signal, the gamers' WIFI is slower than the one in the cave so they're whiny about it."

"That's not something I can fix," I roll my eyes. "I'll go and listen to them."

"I have to go back to the Cheeramazon station," Josh comments. "I just wanted to know how it went with the Jocks."

"And here I was thinking you were glad to see me," I tease, and he chuckles. I put the notebook in my backpack. "Oh! Before I forget..."

I tell them about the Tribes book and how they'll send a jock at some point during the week to ask about the subdivisions and all. Angelica thinks is a bit silly but she agrees to receive the jock anyway, Josh agrees with it a hundred percent, he thinks this is the final step to become a real tribe. I agree, it took us a long time to find a home, we're happy.

'I was in love with the place In my mind, in my mind I made a lot of mistakes In my mind, in my mind'

When I find KJ I see that there's an actual crisis happening. Aria and her are arguing and they only stop when I arrive, both coming up to me at the same time.

"The wifi is-"

"I think someone is trying to hack-"

"–We can barely play tetris on this shit-"

"Hold on," I huff. "Aria, you said someone is trying to hack into your computer?"

"Not my computer, the whole net," Aria continues, pleased to see it was her concern the one I decided to talk about. "It's weird, and we're having comunication problems with the other tribes, the signal falls every half an hour."

"I'm no expert at tech," I frown. "Why were you wanting to see me?"

"She says it's my fault," KJ replies. "I helped Angelica with the set-up for the gamers division and the solar panels on the movie theater, she thinks I fucked up the signal."

"It's because we didn't let you join back into our lines, just admit it," Aria rolls her eyes.

"I don't want to be in your stupid tribe! I'm fine here!"

"Enough!" I interrupt them, "Aria, as much as we want to be good hosts while you're our guests, I must ask you to not start fights with the members of my tribe, the daybreakers will always be my priority. KJ, maybe try not to react so aggressively with our guests? Listen, I'll talk to Angelica so we can find a solution, I bet there's something we're missing here and I doubt it has to do with KJ's abilities. Give me two days, alright?"

Both girls nod, KJ glares at Aria one last time before leaving.

"We appreciate your efforts, Y/N," Aria tells me out of the blue. "I wasn't trying to be rude, it's just... even if Triumph is no longer a thing, there might still be threats out there, it's better to remain informed, and for that we need a strong internet connection."

"Yeah well, I'll see what I can do," I give her an awkward smile. "You think the cave's renovation's will be done anytime soon? Not that I'm kicking you guys out, I just... my kids are getting nervous about the lack of food and..."

"One more week and we'll go, I promise," Aria tells me. "We're working no it."

An hour later during lunch, after I tell the whole story to Wesley and Turbo, both seem happy that my meeting was a success.

'Is everyone alright?' Turbo asks me.

The cheeramazons and Josh have been teaching sign language to all of us, so Turbo's life is improving now that he can speak to more people than before. He's also healing, and if I manage to do things correctly, he might be able to speak again in a few months.

"The jocks are just fine," I reply happily. "Don't worry, Sam is taking good care of your boys and girls."

He nods, though I can see he's a little sad about being thrown away from his former home, I know how that feels like. Sort of.

"You know, Doc, I'm really proud of you," Wesley raises a brow. "You went for it, took a place in the community and slayed your demons, now look at you! You're a higher power in our youth!"

I laugh at his observation.

"I'm doing the bare minimum," I shrug.

"It's more than I ever did during my time with the jocks as second in command," He sighed. "But still, you should be proud, sister."

"I'll be, eventually," I say simply.

Before we can continue our chat Josh sits down next to me and offers me water, which I accept with a soft 'Thank you'.

"So what now?" He asks me.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head.

"You made deals with every tribe there is, now what's the next thing on your list?"

"Keep them going," I reply matter-of-factly. "Just because they said yes doesn't mean it'll stay like that forever, you know? We gotta mantain our relationships healthy and strong, perhaps we could organize events for all the tribes to join us... like New Year's Eve, or another Prom night..."

"Woah, hold on there, Miss President," Wesley scoffs. "We gotta focus on our tribe first. Our food is lacking, so are our living space and medical supplies."

"Well perhaps is because you won't stop organizing dangerous competitions where half of our kids get injured, our supplies would be fine otherwise," I point out.

"Don't take away their joy, Y/N," Wesley says. "Turbo's with me in this one, right?" He turns to his boyfriend and the boy nods.

'Kids need the distraction' Turbo explains. 'So they don't start fighting each other.'

"I know that," I sigh. "We'll find a solution, okay? I'll think of something..."

"You look exhausted," Josh says worringly, he stands up and then helps me to do the same. "C'mon, let's take you to bed."

"Just don't be too loud, it's the middle of the day," Wesley yells at us from his place once we're halfway gone. Josh and I turn to him in outrage.

"Is not- we're not-" I try to say, but the words tangle in my head.

"I'm just walking her to the mattress store!" Josh replies, blushing. "I wasn't going to put my hands down-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," I say.

We share a look but we quickly turn away.

The thing is, Josh and I haven't had sex. We made out a couple times when we were alone, but those times are gone, more so with eighty people walking around the mall at all times. Besides, I've never had sex in my life and I'm terrified of the possibility of getting pregnant during the apocalypse, I mean, that equals to be asking for a painful, slow death.

Josh understands that, and he said he'd wait. He even said that if I never want to have sex that's okay too. But who knows if that's the truth, Josh is an eighteen-year-old. He won't be understanding all the time.

Now that Wesley killed the mood we walk in silence until we reach the mattress store, Josh puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me, struggling to speak.

"I... uh-" He shakes his head lightly. "I..."

"I know," I say with a reassuring smile. "Wesley's joking. He knows we're not... that I'm not ready."

"I know that too," He frowns. "I... You know I care about you, right?"

"Of course," I grin. "Don't worry about it. I really want to take a nap, so is it okay if I go?"

"Yeah, totally," He removes his hand from my shoulder and gives me a shy smile.

I nod and start my way towards the nearest bed, but an arm grabs me by the waist and turns me around. Before I understand what's going on Josh's lips are on mine and he's kissing me.

It's a good kiss, firm and loving enough to relieve all the tension from my shoulders. When we part I see the softness in his eyes looking for approval. I let out a short laugh.

"What was that for?" I ask in amusement.

"Was it okay?"

"It was great."

"Good," Josh nods, still looking quite insecure. "Just making sure."

"Okay, you freak," I giggle. "See you in a while..."

When I wake up from my nap it's around 7 pm and I still feel a bit groggy. My phone rings and I pull it out to see a notification from Spotify. It's from the podcast the AV club has been doing for a while. I eagerly unlock the phone, it's a reminder that I haven't listened to the last two episodes and that last episode I heard ended in quite a confusing moment. I was afraid they'd been hurt, I'm glad to see that's not the case.

I like those kids, last time they did an episode to honor Eli's death. They also talked a bit about Hoyles but no one really ever liked Hoyles. Eli's part was sweet.

As I start listening to this episode Melissa says they're hiding from some kids in suits? And not many things make sense, why would they be following them? They also talked about their strange poly relationship but that wasn't the point.

The point is that the AV club was about to die, and there was no one listening.

I fearfully click on the next episode, waiting to hear they escape.

'I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes'

"This isn't about spying like the germans gathering all kinds of intimate information," Melissa aka Harvard continues in a panicked voice, "and we are most definitely not being forced to do this by a tribe that has tak-"

The audio cuts there for a moment, but that's all the confirmation I need.

We have to save the AV Club.

"Josh!" I run out of the mattress store, looking everywhere. "JOSH!"

'You had to find it (I made a lot of mistakes) All things go, all things go (I made a lot of mistakes)'

"Wheeler!"

"Woah! Hey!" Josh's body crashes against me and stops with an amused smirk. "What's going on? Did you have a bad dre-?"

"We need to gather our kids now," I say quickly.

"What? Why?" He replies, stepping back from me.

I gulp, panic raising through my body and cutting my breathe.

"We're being watched."

Taglist.

@letsbe-queer​ @slythermyg​ @loving-u-3000​ @one-loud-mind​