#would rather get a bottle to control the exact amount

[miss-floral-thief]

Dunno how anti stress it is , but might as well use it now

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

[sylvie-writes]

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before. 

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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine. 

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny. 

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature. 

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather. 

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache. 

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals. 

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.” 

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness. 

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal. 

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon. 

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant. 

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home. 

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 At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last. 

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was. 

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke. 

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness. 

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last. 

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest. 

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course. 

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible. 

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty. 

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them. 

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance. 

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven. 

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“Babe, dinner is ready!” 

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten. 

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister. 

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain. 

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple. 

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for. 

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially. 

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more. 

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.” 

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.” 

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed. 

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you. 

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture. 

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips. 

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” 

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair. 

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made. 

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair. 

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor. 

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand. 

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison. 

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help. 

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages. 

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look. 

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you. 

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own. 

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis. 

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk. 

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague. 

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat. 

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes. 

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on. 

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose. 

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer. 

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak. 

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions. 

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.” 

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure. 

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room. 

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve. 

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!” 

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.” 

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.” 

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued. 

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face. 

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand. 

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”  

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze. 

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.” 

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him. 

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.” 

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!” 

He really was too good for this world. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

[typical-simplelove]

I would love 30 with Matt Tkachuk if you haven’t already ☺️

30. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. 

Summary: 4 times Matthew told you he's love you forever since he was a child and 1 time he used those exact words.

A/n: This turned into a mini 4+1, but I'm not even sorry (kind of like Joey when he ate that chocolate cake, iykyk). Enjoy, and my requests are open!

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @goalision @rmaye @mellany1997 @beauvibaby @heatherawoowoo @petey-patty @barzal-burakovsky @coffee-ontherocks @heaveniish @glassdanse @tkapuckit @stars-canucks (Join my taglist here!)

One

You were sick. You weren’t sure what happened, but somewhere between flying from Calgary to St. Louis, you caught something and got sick. Now, you were sitting in your childhood bedroom with a bucket sitting next to you with a bottle of water at your ready. You had your computer open watching some rerun on Netflix.

After finishing your semester this past spring and the season ending, you and Matthew flew home to St. Louis for the summer. That’s how you ended up here. You were sick and stuck in your bedroom.

You were sitting on your bed ready to watch the next episode of whatever show it was when someone knocked on your door. “Come in?” you say, meekly.

The door opens, and your boyfriend pops his head inside. “May I come in?”

“I’m sick,” you tell Matthew.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he tells you and ventures into your bedroom. He settles himself next to you and moves your computer to the side. “I brought you some vegetable soup from that cafe you always liked going to.”

“How did you know?” you say with a smile as you take the container from Matthew’s hands.

“Um, we grew up together?” Matthew suggests.

“Yeah, but like how did you remember?”

Matthew shrugs. “I remember things about the people I love.”

Two

“What did you do on your day off?” you ask Matthew. After the debacle of the summer where you were sick for almost three weeks, you and Matthew were back in Calgary with the start of the new season for Matthew and a new job for you. Matthew came back from a road trip that included a stop in New York.

“Fine,” Matthew mumbles as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What was your question?” Matthew mumbles and tightens his grip around your waist.

“What did you do on your day off?”

“We went to that art museum you loved when we went a few summers ago.”

“The Met?”

Matthew nods. If possible, he gets closer to you and tightens his grip around you. How he managed to leave you to go on the road was beyond you. Matthew was so extremely clingy that he always had to be touching you. “I got something for you.”

“What is it? Can you show me?”

Matthew groans. He detaches himself from you. “I guess I’ll leave my girlfriend to show her the present I got her.”

“Thank you,” you tell him in the most innocent voice.

Matthew comes back to you and hands you a notebook. He wraps his arms around you and sighs in content now that he’s touching you again. You look at the notebook and gasp. Gracing the cover is your favorite painting. “How did you know, babe?”

Matthew shrugs. “You’ve talked about it forever, I guess.”

You place a kiss on Matthew’s forehead. “Thank you, baby.”

Matthew sighs in content. “You’re welcome.”

You maneuver yourself, so Matthew can have a better grasp on you.

“Now, can you please stop talking, so I can soak in the presence of my girlfriend?”

Three

In all your wildest dreams and fantasies, you never could have imagined that Matthew would be cooking for you. That’s not entirely true. You knew Matthew could cook the absolute staples, but nothing more than that. So, when he told you he was going to cook for you for date night, you were skeptical. You had no idea what to expect.

Matthew told you to take a bath, do a face mask, and just relax. He had everything under control. After about forty-five minutes, you escape the bathroom to go see Matthew. You wrap your arms around him and place kisses on his back. “What’re you making? It smells like home.”

“Home? That’s what I was going for,” Matthew answers.

You step to the side to see what Matthew was cooking. “Matthew!”

“What?” he looks at you concerned. “What did I do wrong?”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t follow.”

“How did you know that this was exactly like home?” In the pot, you saw Matthew cooking your absolute favorite dish that your grandmother would make. The mere smell of it was enough to trigger a muscle memory of going to your grandmother’s house on Sunday afternoons.

Matthew shrugs. “It’s an important part of your childhood and family, so I thought I would try to recreate the memory here.”

You place a kiss on Matthew’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

Matthew smiles at you. “You’re welcome. I hope it tastes like it should because I had to call your mother an embarrassing amount of times.”

Four

Matthew was on a two week road trip in the US with the first stop being St. Louis. You tried to get time off from work, but you couldn’t get the time. You sat on your couch the night the Flames played St. Louis in your Tkachuk jersey feeling sad every time the camera panned to the Tkachuk family sitting in the stands. You knew that Matthew knew you were watching in spirit. When the Flames won, you jumped from your seat and cheered. You sent Matthew a congratulatory text for the game. You went to bed that night to an empty bed missing your boyfriend who was back home.

The next day, you came home from work to a package sitting outside your door. You glanced at the package to see it was addressed to you. That was weird. You don’t remember buying any packages. Your next thought was that Matthew bought a package and just put it under your name. You bring the package inside and set it on the counter. You pull out a zapto knife from the utility drawer and cut open the package. You gasp when you see what’s inside. You had to call Matthew immediately. Thankfully, he picks up right away.

“Hey, did you get my package?” he asks you immediately.

“Yeah,” you say excitedly. Inside, Matthew packaged your favorite snacks from back home. “How did you know?”

“More like my mom knew, but I figured I’d just send it to you,” Matthew answers. “But, I do know that they were your favorite growing up.”

“And how do you know that?” you ask teasingly.

“You always ate them whenever you came over because your mother didn’t buy them for you guys,” Matthew answers. “Don’t eat them all, though. Just because they’re your favorite doesn’t mean I don’t like them.”

You laugh. “I promise that there will be some left here when you come home.”

One

“Matthew,” you say softly with tears in your eyes. You were looking down at Matthew down on one knee with a velvet box in his hands.

“Yn, I’ve spent the past eight years of my life showing you how much I love you,” Matthew begins. “I’ve never thought there was ever someone more perfect for me than you. There is no one else that I’d rather spend every single day with. There is no one in this world I’d rather wake up to or come home to. When I close my eyes, you’re all I see. I’ve known you for my entire life, and I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I know there is no one else for me, so, Yn, will you make me the happiest person ever and marry me?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Of course, I’ll marry you, Matthew. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Matthew smiles and wraps you into a giant hug. He places a kiss on your lips and grasps you tightly.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, too,” you tell Matthew as he slips the ring onto your finger.

“Thank goodness,” Matthew says with a smile. “Can you imagine the story we’d have one day to tell our kids?”

[jamespotterthefirst]

Auld Lang Syne (Ethan x f!MC)

aka the fake NYE date

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 3.5K (sorry) Warning: some language

Premise: Ethan pretends to be her date (yet again) for her family’s NYE party. Part II of  As Long as You Love Me So

Author’s Note: *gestures grandly* Look at all those chickens fanfic tropes. Thank you to @aestheticartsx​​ for pre-reading this mess! 

4:00 pm

Impossibly, he was there with her, in an over-embellished cabin in Vermont, staring at the bed as though it would sprout claws and teeth any minute now. For lack of anything else to say or do, Ethan cleared his throat rather loudly. 

“There's only one…”

“Yep,” she returned quickly, voice sounding strangled with barely controlled worry.

They had been in that exact situation before, not too long ago in Miami. Except when that happened, they had never kissed before. At that point, Ethan had no idea how her lush, warm lips would feel against his or how every swell and dip of her body would fit so perfectly under his touch. 

Ethan was convinced she was remembering that experience as vividly as he was. They had made it out of there with their dignity and professionalism in shreds. Now, they had somehow managed to stumble into an even worse scenario. 

Lilac finally tore her eyes away from the mattress and threw him a furtive but defeated look. 

“It makes sense, I guess. My cousins are not as old fashioned as our parents. They think we sleep together all the time.”

Ethan almost coughed, but thanks to acting skills he did not know he possessed, he managed to keep his face neutral. Desperately, he steered his mind away from thoughts of Lilac in bed with him and all the magnificent things they'd do. 

“I'll take the couch,” he managed, throwing his bag atop the plump cushions. The loud thud of its landing served as irrefutable finality to his statement. 

Now that he was here, he would get through the evening at her side, careful to keep his meticulously constructed guard up. After the festivities, that couch would be his only respite from the magnetic pull that always made itself known when he was near her. And in the morning, they would drive back to Boston, where he could focus his attention back on Naveen and the slight improvement of his case. 

Just one night. 

He just had to get through tonight and then he could go back to putting as much distance between them as possible.  

5:00

“You're kidding,” Lilac said, eyes trained on the sparkling silver fabric her cousin dangled before her. The bleak sunlight pouring from the window hit the dress and sent iridescent beams of color all about. 

Natalia all but shrieked with excitement, clutching the dress close to her. 

“You can't tell me he won't love it!” 

Lilac said nothing, examining the outfit and trying her best to figure out how so little fabric would amount to a whole dress. It looked to her more like a long, backless shirt than anything else. And typically, the garment would be just her style, particularly when trying upstage her horrible cousin Griselda at her own party. 

Today, however, she couldn't help but second guess everything. Her stomach bottomed out just at the thought of Ethan's eyes on her in that dress. 

As though reading her mind, Natalia grinned at her. 

“He loved that pink dress you were wearing at dinner the other night,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Lilac remained silent, fighting back the persistent need to ask for more detail. Natalia, however, did not need an invitation to offer it in a giddy rush. 

“He couldn't keep his eyes off you, Lilita,” she gushed. “The way he looked at you when you weren't looking…” She trailed off, as though words were not enough to properly describe the heated, stolen glances of that night. “God, you can just tell he lo—” 

At this, her cousin halted abruptly, throwing Lilac a sheepish look. There was no way for her cousin to know if they had said the words to one another yet in this made-up relationship.

A sharp, painful wave of longing settled in Lilac's stomach at the thought. What would it be like to hear Ethan Ramsey utter those words, striking blue eyes looking down at her as though she was the only person in the world? 

“Anyway,” Natalia tried again. “You can tell Dr. Ramsey was feeling that dress the other night. I bet I can guess what you did when you got home.”

Lilac sincerely doubted that unless Natalia knew she had been so mortified that night when she got to her apartment that she downed half a bottle of wine and stuffed her face with Sienna's brownies.  

“Fine,” Lilac agreed at last, taking the garment from her cousin. “I'll wear the dress.”

Natalia squealed her excitement and Lilac couldn't help but smile at her cousin's contagious joy. 

“I can't wait to see the stupid look on Griselda's face. She's been in an awful mood getting everything ready for tonight. When she sees you in this, arm in arm with your hot doctor, she'll have a conniption.”

6:00

The familiar burn from the liquid was a welcomed relief from the many thoughts plaguing him. They alternated between thoughts of Lilac and his concern for Naveen, despite the many texts from the latter assuring him he was fine. Now that he was alone, he was beginning to understand just how much of a mistake this had been. 

Ethan took another drink. Despite how much he disliked Lilac's pretentious cousin, he had to admit she kept the cabin's home bar stocked with exceptional scotch. 

“Glenmorangie,” a voice said from behind him. 

Ethan did not have to turn around to know it was Griselda, standing a few feet away as though summoned. 

“Eighteen year,” she continued, eyeing the glass in his hand. She paused, as though awaiting praise for her excellent taste. 

Ethan determinately offered none. 

Lilac's cousin sighed, moving closer to the bar. The clamor of her heels against the floor echoed around the cavernous space of the otherwise desolate living room. 

“I'm impressed, you know,” she said in a deliberately causal tone. She took the bottle of Glenmorangie and poured two fingers in a glass. “I didn't think you'd actually show.”

Unfazed, Ethan kept his eyes ahead and took another swig. “I can't imagine why.”

Griselda let out a low, humorless laugh. “See, I didn't think a world renowned doctor would be interested in acting for a whole weekend, all for the sake of a lowly intern.”

The words were delivered with unmistakable triumph, each of them striking Ethan like the ominous tolling of iron bells. 

With experienced impassiveness, he turned to face her. Griselda wore a victorious smirk, dark eyes glittering as she took in the expanse of his chest with unveiled interest. Her smile turned coy, concealed briefly by the crystal of her glass as she took a drink. 

When he glanced away wordlessly, she pressed on. 

“You can drop the act, Doctor Ramsey. I'm not an imbecile.” Her voice was a deadly whisper. “My pathetic little cousin would do anything to impress me. Even fake a relationship with her medical hero to fulfill her pitiful little fantasies.”

His fingers clutched his glass with such force that the decorative ridges dug into his skin almost painfully. 

“How she roped you into her juvenile scheme is beyond me.” She had gravitated a lot closer to Ethan. “Lucky for you, however, you are free to act as you please now that I know.”

He could see a blood-red nail moving closer to his hand on the counter. Ethan raised his scotch to his lips, his grip so tight on the glass now that his knuckles shone white. 

“I'd never fake a relationship in front of you,” he muttered at last, carefully choosing his words. 

This had the intended effect because Griselda perked up, intrigued. 

“And why is that?” 

Ethan set his glass on the counter, facing her full on. Summoning his most charming smile, the same one that had a visible effect on many recipients, he leaned in close. 

Griselda's breath hitched expectantly. 

And then, very carefully, so carefully that there would be no room for her to miss the words, he whispered—

“Because you're not that special.”

7:00 

With one last glance at her reflection and a sharp, shuddering exhale, Lilac trekked to the dining room where most of that night's guests were already congregated. Many pairs of eyes landed on her as she entered, the din of conversation ebbing slowly. 

Griselda, who was chatting with her work acquaintances, stopped mid-sentence as her eyes fell on Lilac, the faux pleasant smile falling from her expression at once. There was something different about the furious glare her cousin bore into her like a knife. It was unabashedly disdainful, even hateful. 

Lilac would have enjoyed it any other night but instead, she was far too busy scanning the crowd for—

“Dr. Ramsey, there you are,” exclaimed Natalia, eyes falling over Lilac's shoulder. 

Before she could swivel around, a pair of strong, warm arms enveloped her from behind. His hands rested at her hips and his intoxicating scent cast such a heady spell on Lilac that she was lucky his strong chest offered her support. She had no hope of getting any words out, least of all when he leaned down and whispered in her ear—

“New dress?” 

8:00

Ethan realized far too soon that the distracting silver dress was the least of his worries. Unsettled as he was, however, he would occasionally find his attention hopelessly caught on the tantalizing fabric and the way it adorned her figure perfectly. He wasn't blind after all. 

Lilac laughed at something Sebastian said. She was far more relaxed after a few drinks, laughing with ease in a way that made Ethan's pulse quicken. 

“I bet Doctor Ramsey would love to see those,” Sebastian said with a laugh of his own.

“See what?” 

“Some videos of young Lilita singing Selena songs at karaoke, complete with signature dance moves.” Sebastian accentuated the last two words with easy movements of his hips, gracefully spinning in a full circle. “Remember La Lavadora?”

Natalia laughed. “We used to tie up our shirts and pretend we were wearing her famous bustier.”

Just then, Ethan caught Griselda's eye from across the living room. Her dark eyes fell to the space that separated Ethan and Lilac where they stood, a satisfied smile starting to dawn on her face. 

With a sudden rush of determination, he cupped the small of her bare back and pulled her close, his blood fizzing at her proximity. Lilac jolted slightly, turning a surprised glance at him. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered in her ear. 

Lilac glanced at him through heavy lids, her eyes falling to his lips for the briefest of seconds. It was enough to make his pulse a roar in his ears. 

“Yes.”

As if on its own accord, his thumb traced lazy circles at her back. Blushing, Lilac parted her lips and looked at him so intently, Ethan was convinced she was two seconds away from dragging him into their shared bedroom. 

He would gladly let her.

“Get a room,” Sebastian teased, prompting Ethan to remember her cousins were still there. 

From across the room, Griselda scowled, downing her drink in one gulp. 

“Luckily they have one,” Natalia added with a laugh and a wink for Lilac. 

9:00

Griselda's undisguised hostility grew more tangible by the hour. Their dislike was no secret to anyone in the family, but even Natalia and Sebastian couldn't deny something was different today. So different in fact, that even her unsuspecting guests, who had no background on her family, started to notice. 

“What's up her ass?” Natalia joked over the music. 

Lilac shrugged and took another sip of her champagne, despite Ethan's constant reminders that the drink was pitiful. 

“You're getting drunk off of garbage, Rookie,” he commented from where he stood at her side. 

His hand rested on the curve of her waist, burning through the fabric. Lilac was convinced she was getting drunk off of him, his touch, and the way his eyes pierced through her with each glance. 

Natalia perked up at the nickname. “Rookie?” 

“His nickname for me,” Lilac explained. 

Natalia, looking a bit tipsy herself, cooed, “Aww! That's so cute!”

Luckily, she didn't ask for further explanation. Instead, Natalia moved to chat with a family friend, one Lilac was increasingly convinced she harbored a crush for. 

“Something's different,” she commented to Ethan quietly. “Ever since dinner, you've been… just… different.”

Instead of responding, Ethan's eyes scanned the crowd. 

“What's going on?” 

His eyes softened when they met hers. Gently, he leaned in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He didn't move his hand away, the pad of his thumb tracing lazy lines along her cheekbone.

Lilac held her breath, too afraid that any movement might scare him away. Their faces were so close together, his eyes taking in every inch of her face, as though memorizing it. Until at last, they rested on her lips. 

“Ethan—” 

And then the blinding flash of a camera forced them to spring apart.

“Shit. Sorry. That was supposed to be without flash!” Natalia said. “It's a cute picture, though.”

10:00

Pretty green eyes made his blood warmer than any fine scotch ever could. He leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh and that made him drunker still, the sound making him feel weightless. 

Ethan's hand alternated from her waist, back, arms. His skin all but burned anywhere he touched her, white hot and electric. 

At some point throughout the night he had stopped checking if her cousin was watching. He no longer cared if she was buying the act. 

Not that he had been acting for a second anyway. Every touch, every whisper, every smile had been genuine. 

More genuine still was the urge to kiss her.

11:30

“Estúpida!” Natalia shrieked at Griselda, drawing the attention of most of the guests. She had jumped back to avoid the splash of red wine headed her way but she had not been fast enough. Her lovely champagne colored dress was ruined with an ugly splotch. 

“Sorry,” Griselda said, not sounding sorry at all. “If it makes you feel any better, it was an accident.”

Lilac doubted that very much. 

On second thought, spilling wine over Natalia had been an accident because the intended target had been Lilac. 

From beside her, Ethan sighed loudly, pulling her close. “Are you alright?” 

Before Lilac could offer any form of reply, Griselda let out an exaggerated coo at the sight of them. Keith, her boyfriend, lurked behind her, looking embarrassed and like he wanted to intervene but wasn't entirely sure how. 

“Gris, you're drunk,” he said, gently taking her elbow. 

Griselda purposely ignored him, eyes zeroed in on Lilac and Ethan. In the chaos of Natalia cursing up a storm and Sebastian looking around their immediate proximity for something to help her soak up the mess, Lilac could not properly study the unmasked disdain on her cousin's expression. All she saw were fierce dark eyes sinking into here's, glassed over from a full evening of drinking, and an unrelenting snarl. 

“Que hermosa pareja,” Griselda commented quite loudly. No one, not even those who didn't speak the language, could doubt the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. 

Lilac thought her cousin must be very intoxicated to allow her native language out so freely. 

“You two are almost…” Griselda trailed off deliberately. “...too good to be true.”

A horrible sense of dread sunk in her stomach like a stone. 

She knew. 

Her cousin's words, drunk and slurred as they were, insinuated that she knew about their fib. 

Panicked, Lilac glanced up at Ethan and was surprised to see him unfazed, as though the information was nothing new for him. 

“So happy for you, primita,” Griselda went on, swaying slightly on her feet. “If you do end up marrying this one, I must help you plan the wedding.”

A nasty surge of panic speared through Lilac, her pulse drumming chaotically at her ears. She could see Ethan's confused frown from the corner of her eye. 

“I got my hopes up with the last one,” Griselda continued, words accompanied by a dangerous smirk.

“Griselda, shut up,” Sebastian snapped furiously. 

“Until he cheated on you. What a shame that was.”

The room went dead silent. 

Lilac's throat constricted painfully and to her horror, her eyes stung with the threat of tears. Her breathing, which quickened dangerously, came out in chocked little gasps and it took every ounce of her strength to stifle them. 

“And then when you took him back and he cheated again, I just didn't—” 

SLAP

Lilac's palm had connected with her cousin's airbrushed face with a resounding crack. She didn't pause to see Griselda's shock dwindle into hatred, or to hear any of the words Ethan was saying. Furiously smearing away the tears that had finally spilled, she turned on her heel and ran. 

11:50

It was ten minutes before midnight when Ethan finally found her, a lone figure in the middle of the backyard's gazebo. She didn't move as he approached, eyes fixed on the dark outline of the forest beyond. 

It was a particularly clear night for winter in Vermont, the remnants of the last snowfall nothing but grey sludge on the ground. Still, the biting chill of the night whipped against their skin and the only thing protecting her was a flimsy fleece throw blanket. 

Without a word, he removed his suit's jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Lilac merely looked at the fabric and let out a small humorless laugh. 

“Back to where we started,” she muttered. 

It dawned on him that he had done the very same thing the night this whole fantasy started. 

After a short, peaceful pause, Ethan opened his mouth to offer some kind of comfort. Before the words could leave him, however, she stood up from her seat on the bench with a renewed sense of purpose. 

“Let's get the hell out of here.”

Ethan nodded once. “We can go back to the room—” 

But Lilac was shaking her head. “Back to Boston.”

A beat. 

“Rookie, that's crazy.”

“No, what's crazy is this whole stupid scheme. Pretending to date? Who does that?” Her voice flared briefly with her temper, only realizing this belatedly. She looked away from Ethan. 

Ethan remained silent, giving her as much time as she needed. After a minute, she exhaled sharply and met his eye again. “I'm really sorry I dragged you into this.”

Ethan wasn't sorry at all. He dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand.

More silence. 

Lilac leaned against a wooden beam and let out another ironic laugh. “The funny thing is it didn't even work.”

“It worked.” 

At his side, his hands flexed instinctively, yearning to touch her just like he had all night. There was no question in his mind that everyone, including Griselda, was convinced of his feelings for Lilac. 

Lilac, meanwhile, sent him a questioning look and his pulse accelerated at the mere thought of telling her just that. 

“That's why she lashed out,” he said instead.

She nodded once, deep in thought. 

The way her shoulders pinched with tension and the slight quiver of her lips left no doubt that she was recalling Griselda's lashing words. And though Ethan was insurmountably curious, he refrained from asking. 

“Earlier,” he started quietly. “She confronted me about this being an act.”

Her head snapped to look at him. After a few seconds, understanding dawned on her beautiful, moonlit face. 

“That's why you…” she trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. “That's why you put on a hell of a show.”

They could hear the swelling of voices from inside the cabin. Someone inside announced there were only their seconds left until midnight. 

Neither of them looked away from one another. Ethan's eyes descended to her petal pink lips and then back to her eyes. 

“It wasn't for show.”

Her breath hitched. 

“Lilac, you already know that I—” 

In the distance, the party-goers began their countdown. 

“Ten!” 

His hand found the dip of her waist, as though magnetized. 

“Nine!” 

Eyes never leaving hers, he pulled her closer to him.

“Eight!”

“Ethan,” she whispered. A plea and the sweetest sound he had ever heard. 

“Seven!”

Their bodies were pressed so close together, he wondered if she could feel the way his thunderous heart beat for her. 

“Six!” 

Lilac's perfume caressed his senses as her delicate hands clung to his shoulders. 

“Five!” 

“Lilac,” he murmured, sounding agonized to his own ears. 

“Four!” 

Her hand moved to cradle his jaw and Ethan briefly closed his eyes. 

“Three!” 

Delicate fingers danced along the planes of his face with a featherlight touch. 

“Two!”

Ethan basked in her touch, convinced there was nothing better. 

Nothing except—

“One!”

And he kissed her at last. 

Translations:

La Lavadora : “The Washer Machine”/ a dance move

“Estúpida!” : Stupid bitch

“Que hermosa pareja,” : What a beautiful couple

Primita: little cousin

Author’s Note: Ah! So there will definitely be a part 3. However, I still haven’t decided if I will work on that first or on the next Picta chapter. It depends what this volatile inspiration of mine decides!

Thank you so much for reading this!

And thank you so much to everyone who put up with me, my blog, and my writing this year. Your support means everything. Seriously, writing is one of my greatest joys. Before truly immersing myself in this fandom, I thought I’d never write again because of work and other responsibilities. 

Thank you everyone for giving me this gift back.

Happy New Year, my loves! I wish everyone success, happiness, and excellent health. Now, let’s all quietly walk into 2021 and not touch anything. 

Tags: @openheart12​​ , @takeharryandgo​​ , @trappedinfanfiction​​, @aestheticartsx​​, @aworldoffandoms​​, @paulfwesley​​, @myusualnerdyself​​,  @rookie-ramsey​​, @ohchoices​​,  @enmchoices​​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​, @choicesfanaf​​, @openheartthot​​, @octobereighth​​, @nazarihoe​​, @utterlyinevitable​​, @kites-in-our-skies​​, @maurine07​​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​​, @doilooklikeiknow​​, @snesdudes​​, @kingliam2019​​, @perriewinklenerdie​​, @cinnamonspongecake​​, , @queencarb​​, @ethxnrxmsey​​, @missmiimiie​​, @jens-diamondchoices​​, @adamsdumortain​​, @apphia12​​, @kalogh​​, @lucy-268​​, @binny1985​​, @queenbirbs​​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​​, @newcolonies​​, @lilyvalentine​​, @rigatonireid​​, @interobanginyourmom​​, @parkerattano​​, @custaroonie​​, @nikki-2406​, @lilypills​​, @chasingrobbie​​, @nooruleman​​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​​, @ruinedbypixels​​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​​, @tsrookie​​, @mvalentine​​, @professorkingslay​​, @drakewalkerfantasy​​, @casey-v​​, @helloblueeyedcat​​, @mysticaurathings​​, @blossomanarchy​​, @thegreentwin​​, @togetherwearerapture​​, @rookieoh​​,  @rookiemarsswiftie​​, @natashajaniphilchoices​​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​​, @hatescapsicum​​, @choices-lurker​​, @kiara-36​​, @junehiratas​​, @danijimenezv​​, @macy-ray85​​, @adrex04​​, @canigetanawwjunk​​, @sanchita012​​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​​ , @scorpiochick8​​, @skylarklyon​​, @starrystarrytrouble​​, @mercury84choices​​, @drariellevalentine​​, @ethanrcmsey​​,  @aarisa-frost​​,  @udishaman​​, @a-crepusculo​​, @quacksonlover​​, @caroldxnvxrs​​, @ramseyandrys​​, @whatchique​​​, @varikasnuori​​, @dimitriwife​​​, @genevievemd​​​, @shanzay44​​​, @fabi-en-ciel​​​, @trebondialanna​​​, @lady-calypso​​​, @ashiiknees​​​, @dr-ramseys-rookie​​​, @stygianflood​​​, @bellcat2010​​​, @iemcpbchoices​​​,  @bellcat2010​, @iemcpbchoices​, @gryffindordaughterofathena​, @alookseeblog​, @whimsicallywayward15​

@emotionalswift2,  @lion-ess24, @lovingramsey​

[nat-20s]

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days.  I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and  serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

[blackwidow-bby]

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

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

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

Taglist: @diaryoflife

———————————————————————

Natasha’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What am I going to do now”

———

Y/n’s POV

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

——

1 1/2 days later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The handle turned….

It’s unlocked…

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

——

Natasha’s POV

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

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

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

Hello?

It was you.

I seem to be lost, is someone home?

Oh no…

————————————————————————

[kenganparadise]

Hey how are you love!!!

I was wondering if I could get a head canon of agito confessing his feeling, planning a first date, and losing his virginity to his S/O please!!!!!!

Im doing pretty wonderful after seeing this in my ask box!! I love you for requesting this- Thank you so much!! I’ve always wanted to write HCs about Agito falling in love❤️ it’s so obvious that he’s my favorite. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it💙❤️💜

Agito-

• Agito doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He never conciders finding a partner or finding love before. He’s spent his whole life serving Metsudo.

• That is till he meets his S/O. He doesn’t know what it is about them, he just knows that they’re special to him. He knows that the feeling he has for them is much different than anything he’s felt toward anyone ever before.

• They make him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. Every time he sees them his gut tightens and churns. He goes out of his way to pass by them. Even if it means inconveniencing himself he’ll go out of his way just to see them.

• Sometimes he is unable to stop thinking about his crush. He does everything and anything to get them out of his head. They’ve plagued him. He even sees them in his dreams

• He sees things that couples do, maybe in books and movies. He also does a lot of people watching (more like analyzing and collecting data while he’s the fang) but when he’s living his nomad biker babe days he watches how people act and treat each other.

• He sees couples kiss and hold hands, he takes note of people who do PDA, he imagines him and his crush doing things like that.

• His feelings confuse him. He tries to bottle them up. He’ll probably have this nasty crush for a very long time before he even speaks to his crush. He’ll just silently watch them from afar.

• However bottling up emotions and feelings is never ever a good idea. Eventually they’ll bubble over. This could be due to jealousy or maybe his feelings grow and grow even more till it gets downright uncomfortable.

• Finally he does something about it- he confides in his friends/family. He probably approaches Metsudo and Sayaka. maybe Takayama and Omori if he’s feeling desperate. He probably even goes to Okubo. He knows Metsudo and Okubo have experience in love and relationships (Metsudo more than Okubo)

• Mestsudo is delighted that Agito has fallen in love. He advises that Agito go out and buy his crush a bunch of gifts then give a very grand confession to his love. Agito adores Metsudo but he’s not going to put on a show.

• Sayaka does the same. She tells Agito to write anonymous love letters to his crush. She’ll deliver them of course. He considers it but doesn’t want to do that either.

• Okubo give Agito a bunch of pick-up lines. He thinks that a little demeaning so he’s definitely not doing that. (Could you imaging Agito telling a pick up line to his S/O. It would be so Awkward)

• Omori and Takayama tell him the exact same thing “just go tell them how you feel.” Omori says. “Just tell them how you feel, dumbass” Takayama says. Agito does exactly that.

• Agito approaches his crush at their usual spot. “I’d like to speak with you privately.” He says with a poker face. He’s all business. He takes them somewhere private where they won’t be bothered.

• When he’s alone with his crush he feels a pang of nervousness in his heart. Seeing them look up at him in confusion/curiosity makes his gut churn.

• It’s hard to read him. So his crush has no clue what he’s speaking to him about. His tone and body language doesn’t tell them a thing. They have no idea the things that they have put him through. They don’t know the turmoil going on inside him.

• “I think I’m in love with you.” He speaks, still all business. His crush is taken by absolute surprise. They’re frozen. “A-ah I’m sorry did I hear you right? Can you repeat that?” They’ll say. “I think-no. I am in love with you.” He says, reassuring his crush.

• “well. How about we go out on a date?” They say timidly after processing this shocking information.

• Dates- Agito knows about these. “Yes. What would you like to do?” He asks still all business. “Dinner! Just the two of us!” They’ll say. The hearing his crush say ‘just the two of us’ makes his heart leap.

• The date is set. They’ll meet the following night. Agito will pick them up and they’ll go to a traditional restaurant.

• He wears his finest suit. He picks out an expensive cologne. With Metsudo’s help get gets a dozen of the most vibrant roses- only the best for his date.

• He meets them at their home. “You look pretty.” Is all he’s able to say. He does think they look beautiful. They did their hair and obviously put lots of thought into their outfit.

• During the date his crush does most of the talking. He is having a wonderful time just listening to their voice. He replies every now and again. Sometimes he’s unable to hide the smile on his face.

• After good food, drinks, and desert he walks his S/O home. He asks his crush politely if they’d like to see him again. Hearing them say yes makes his heart skip a beat.

• If his crush wants a kiss they’ll have to make the first move. “Bend down a little please.” He of course obeys without a second thought. They better not expect him to kiss back. But his lips will twitch when he’s feels their warm ones press to his. When his crush pulls away they’ll be about to see pink dusted across his cheeks.

• He’ll walk home. He will absolutely ponder for hours about that kiss and he will definitely be seeing them in his dreams again at night.

🔞WARNING NSFW AHEAD🔞

• After dating for a while Agito feels himself ready to lose that pesky virginity. He waits for his S/O to make the first move.

• Agito has spent many nights touching himself to the thought of his S/O. Even before when it was just a crush he’d be in his room, dick in hand, thinking about them.

• He’s imagined what their body looks like beneath their clothing and that they feel like from the inside.

• The first time- He’s practically champing at the bit watching them undress slowly. His dick is practically twitching in his pants. His breathing gets ragged watching them strip down to their underwear.

• When they stare at him he realizes it’s his turn to remove his clothing. He hurriedly rips of his clothes down to his boxers. To say he is impatient is quite the understatement, he’s spent many nights thinking about this exact moment.

• Their fingers are like fire on his skin when his S/O touches him. The two are sitting on the bed as his S/O begins kissing his neck and chest. They feel up his pecs and abs. Their hands trail down to his hips and stop at his boxers.

• He jumps and blushes a deep crimson color when they they squeeze his ass.

• He realizes he should probably be doing something too. He grabs their chest and massages it roughly making them moan.

• Hearing them moan spurs him on more. He pinches their nipples lightly in his fingers. It doesn’t matter if his S/O is AFAB or AMAB he’s sucking on those titties. After playing with their chest a little he takes their nipple in his mouth. He sucks roughly. He moves his hands down to their hips.

• He touches them through their underwear. He rubs them roughly. He flinches when feeling them palm him through his boxers. Feeling their hands on him makes him very impatient. “How do you- what position should we do?” He asks. “Well do you want to be on top? Or do you want me to be on top?” They purr in his ear. Ugh that’s the hardest decision he could make right now.

• He wants them to be on top first. He lays on his back with soft pillows behind him. They pull down his boxers, his massive cock springs out. He watches as they remove their panties finally.

• His S/O coats his dick with a generous amount of lube. He grunts as they stroke him a couple times while coating him. Then his S/O mounts him.

• He listens to his S/O hiss as they sink down onto his dick. It’s a delicious stretch. He exhales as their hips meet his. His Adam’s apple bobs. It’s such a stark contrast. He’s so used to his rough cold calloused hand, and now he’s deep inside his soft, warm, tight S/O.

• He uncontrollably bucks his hips up into his S/O. They moan as he does. They grab his hands and place them on their hips. He’s got a vice grip on them. Then they start to move.

• He watches like a hawk as they bounce on his dick. He literally can’t look away. They set a steady space. He’s got insane stamina but It’s his first time. He cums rather fast.

• He can’t really help it, his S/O is so soft and warm. And they look gorgeous moaning and being pleasured above him. He’s never felt this before, so he pumps his load inside quickly.

• He doesn’t warn them before hand, it’s only when they feel his dick go soft and the huge load inside their belly that that they’ve realized he’s finished.

• He feels bad for not warning them beforehand- but seeing his release seeping out of them makes his dick come back to life.

• The second round however is much different. He is on top and controlling the pace. He enters them and sets a rather brutal but steady pace. His S/O better get ready to get fucked into the mattress.

• Their legs would be locked around his waist as he pounds into them. he’ll be grunting in their ear the whole time, his hands are clawing at the sheets beneath. Hearing them moan in his ear spurs him on.

• He lasts much longer this time. He’ll only finish after his S/O cums. He grunts loudly as he dumps another load in his S/O.

• After that it’s quite a long night for his poor S/O. He excited and wants to try everything in one night (but we know that’s not possible)

• He switches positions. He loves the sight of his S/O getting fucked in different poses. Each round he lasts longer than the previous.

• Once he’s had enough and he realizes his S/O has definitely had enough, he carries them to the bathroom for a nice hot bath. Then it’s off to bed. He cuddles his S/O the whole night. He’ll probably fall asleep after them.

[cher-writes]

Ethereal | Vladek Klimov x Reader (18+)

Read part 2

Word count: 4.6k

CW: Smut, NSFW, Wound, Blood

A/N: I know it's hella long but it irks me to make two people have sex when it doesn't make sense for them to do so. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

It was an exceptionally cold day. Not that it was never not cold in your little northern town. But even among the cold ones, that day felt a bit too cold to you. You were feeling lazy from the very moment you woke up, but after leaving your warm comforter the cold bit into your skin like a snake, even though you had the heater on. 'I gotta get this heater checked’ you thought as you opened up the blinds to look outside. Surprisingly it was neither snowing nor much cloudy. You could almost make out the sun behind the wispy clouds. This cold but almost sunny day lit you up with an amazing idea. You called in sick to your work without wasting any time. Quickly gulping down some leftovers and grabbing your meticulously packed little bag for this exact occasion you were on your way. Hoping none would see you was a terrible stretch of luck cause in that town, everyone knew everyone and everyone saw everything. You were confident you could lie your way out of trouble if you got in any so you didn't quite care anyway. You had only thought in your mind, The hot spring.

The hot water welcomed your skin like an old lover. As you hoped, the water soothed every aching and sore muscle in your body. The spring was empty as usual. The town people weren't quite fond of taking a bath there, unlike you, who even after being born and brought up there couldn't quite get over the euphoric feeling of bathing in a hot spring in the freezing cold weather. Sometimes you wondered if god made a mistake cause you clearly were meant to be in a more warm climate. The cold and the mundane nature of this place got under your skin way too often. Although there were some weird and unexplainable events occurring recently that left the town in quite an unrest. You knew some stuff but honestly you couldn't differentiate the truth from the rumors so you preferred to keep your distance. Anyway you didn't wanna think about that, all you wanted to do was to float in the tranquil hot water, tune everything out with the ecstatic feeling and you could do that forever.

Unfortunately, your forever was interrupted rather quickly as you felt waves behind you. You turned around only to be greeted with a man's face you've never seen before. And working at the local convenience store, it was unlikely you haven't come across almost everyone living in that godforsaken place. He was adrift a bit too close, and you were taken aback, visibly.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else, didn't mean to scare you” he blurted out sensing your shock and possible discomfort.

“I-It's fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be around” you replied. you could see his piercing green eyes even through the steam and they were gorgeous, to say the least. There was this intensity in them that you've never seen in anyone's eyes before.

You could feel yourself staring. So as to snap yourself out of it and to break the uncomfortable silence you quickly spoke up, “You aren't from around here!”. You meant to ask but it came out as a statement somehow, his intense eyes were messing with your tongue.

“Hah! No. I'm not.” he said ever so calmly. You could make out his face clearly from the steam now, and it was angelic. His slick neck and collarbone glistened in the warm water, now at more of a distance from you than before. Yet to you it felt like he was almost pressing against your skin. It made you uncomfortable, in a sensual way. But you played it cool, you had to play it cool. You weren't the type to flirt with unknown people let alone feel this way for a complete stranger that you met like 30 seconds ago. But it was a fact that you never came across a stranger that looked like him. You couldn't really blame yourself for feeling like that. You shook off your body's fervent reaction to him and said, “I see. We don't really get any tourists around here, especially during these months. Are you visiting someone?”

“Not really. I'm here to fulfill my duty.” he said, the words rolling out his tongue like butter. You've always adored that accent, rarely you heard it around there.

-“Duty?”

-“Yes.”

You understood he probably wasn't interested in explaining anything further and you quite weren't in the state to ask anything either. Your mind was getting hazy. There was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you but his presence felt electrifying. The tension, you felt, was excruciating yet exciting. He on the other hand, seemed extremely and unusually composed. Even smirking, ever so slightly

You were starting to realize there was something unnatural about this man, your head now completely fuzzy and that was your cue to leave. You dipped in the water and swam away without saying anything else. You didn't look back when you got out of the water. When you parked your car in front of your house 15 min later, you were panting.

It had been a few days since you saw him. Yet you couldn't get him out of your head. You saw his intense gaze at the back of your lid everytime you closed them. There were things happening around you but you were out of it. You felt faded everywhere you went. It was as if he took a part of you with him. It was so dumb when you thought about it, you were with him for like 2 minutes at best, yet he rubbed off on you so badly that you couldn't stop thinking of him. And sometimes you caught yourself wishing you met him again, maybe feel his skin this time. You wanted it to happen so much yet you were afraid of it happening, no, you were terrified. Cause if you felt his skin once, touched him even for a moment, you would lose control over all your motor function. Feeling this hot and bothered for someone you didn't even know the name of, left you quite ashamed.

That evening when you came home from your disturbingly tedious job, you weren't expecting for your wish to come true and that too to such an extent.

You walked straight to your kitchen to pour yourself some rosé cause it was Saturday and you had nothing better to do. You preferred the high of alcohol more than whatever you've been feeling for the last few days. It was way better to be actually drunk. You heard some rustling behind you as you were emptying the first glass. You didn't pay it any mind. As you were pouring yourself the second glass you heard footsteps, that sent you on alert mode. When you turned around, ever so slowly, you saw the guy in glasses. Standing, rather leaning against the door frame, with his left hand pressing against the side of his stomach. You were out of everything these past few days that's for sure but you still heard about him. Panic struck you quicker than the alcohol could. ‘How did he get in?’ you thought then immediately answered you own question by cursing yourself for not properly locking the door, the want to get drunk as quick as possible came back to bite you in the ass. But beating yourself up for that wouldn't help now, the danger was already in. With your back against the counter you started fumbling around with your hands in the back looking for something sharp, anything but the only thing you found was the bottle of rosé and the half poured glass. You cursed yourself again and understood that luck wasn't on your side so you decided to run for your life cause you didn't wanna die yet. But your body froze in place and nothing you could do would help it move. Fear took over your being like a frostbite. All of this happened only in the matter of a few seconds. You were now standing there, glaring at him with wide terrified eyes, preparing yourself for the bitter embrace of death. He was standing there still, crouched a bit, till then. Seeing you stop moving, he laggardly took off his glasses and the mask and threw it aside. Your eyes darted towards the accessories as they fell on the floor with a soft thump. It was only then that you noticed he was bleeding all over your floor. When your eyes came back up to see his now bare face, your body went numb and blood flooded the back of your neck like a tsunami at the sight. It was him.

Nothing was making sense to you. Right then probably the alcohol kicked in cause you started feeling tipsy and was starting to doubt if all of that was just a mere hallucination. You were starting to spiral in your absurd thoughts when he spoke up, his voice sharp from the visible pain he was in, “w-will you help-p me p-please?”

Hearing his aching voice something went off in you. The fact that he was the guy in glasses, the dangerous demon people kept talking about, completely washed away from your immediate memory. You rushed over to him and held him by his shoulder to walk him to your bedroom. You helped him out of his coat and the clothings underneath. He inhaled sharply when the t-shirt brushed against the side of his stomach as he was taking it off. It was then that you could see the wound. It was ghastly and bleeding still. You gasped at the sight of it. You blurted out, “How did you get this?”

He didn't answer your question, rather went on to say, “it's a...um.. grazed bullet wound”. His voice strained from the agony.

“W-we need to go to the hospital, what if the bullet is inside!”, you said as your fingers were ghosting over the wound, your teeth clenched. You were growing more and more worried with every passing moment.

“Look at me”, he said firmly with his tired voice and you did, he was looking more human now. Still as unreal as that day, but somehow more human. ‘It's probably all the blood’, you thought to yourself.

“I can't go to the hospital, you understand? You have to help me however you can right here, yeah?” he had this expression, this strange mix of pleading and pain on his face as he said that and nodded slowly. You nodded back in return like an old partner in crime would. After carefully sitting him down on the bed and giving him one of your T-shirts that was just lying around to press over the wound, you practically ran over to your bathroom to get your first aid box. You came back equally hurried. He was slouching in pain. One hand pressing the t-shirt over his wound, other one supporting his body weight on the bed.

You laid him down slowly and then sat beside him. He hissed as you took off the now bloody t-shirt and exposed the wound again. You started cleaning the wound with an antiseptic liquid and you could feel his body shudder under your touch from the pangs of the liquid.

“I think it needs stitches” you looked up and said. He looked fatigued but still more beautiful than any human you've ever seen.

“Can you do it?” he managed to say, with labored breathing.

“I-i learnt it in highschool. I have the supplies but I don't know. It may hurt. I still think we should go to the hos-”

“Do it.” he cut you off quite abruptly. And as if under a spell, you complied.

Halfway through the process, you looked up to see him staring at you. His eyes sent a chill down your spine. The intensity was now setting in, he was half naked, almost under you, you were touching his warm skin and he was staring at you, like that. You couldn't bear the tension so you decided to speak up. Besides the questions were bubbling under the surface for quite a while now.

“How did you find my place?” you asked, and genuinely wanted to know.

-“Freya told me. She was curious to know with whom I confused her with.”

- “How do you know Freya?”

- “I do.”

- “and she told you my name too?”

- “Yes, (Y/N). She indeed did”

Your hand hitched a bit hearing your name roll off his tongue like that. You weren't prepared. He hissed at the sudden sharp pain.

- “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” you apologized quickly. He didn't say anything. For a while you went quiet but the questions started pouring in again.

- “So why didn't you go to Freya's? You're clearly her guest. Why come to me?”

- “There were police at her place.”

And at that sentence, everything came back to you like a flood.

“Who are you? What's with you and the glasses? And what is this demon people keep talking about? What the hell is this bullet wound and how did you get it? Why are you on the run from the police? Did you kill someone?”, in one singular breath you asked. Your hands stopped working at his wound. The fear was slowly creeping in again.

He looked at you blankly for a little while and then chuckled. It caught you off guard and you couldn't but relax a bit.

“You ask an awfully lot of questions to someone who is getting stitches on his stomach, don't you think?” he said in a strained but adoring voice.

You felt a bit humiliated and looked down to continue your work.

After a while, he let out a sigh and said, “I'm a Shaman. I came to save this town. From a demon who possesses people and slowly becomes them.”

Whatever he said didn't quite make sense to you but there was something so religious about the way he spoke, something so otherworldly about him that you believed him without a shadow of a doubt. You realized he didn't answer all your questions either and honestly you didn't need him to. You believed every word from of his mouth like it's the word of the lord. And at that point, if he said you were the demon, you would have believed him. Maybe that's what compelled you to ask the next question, “Am I the demon?”

- “No. Never. The demon wouldn't touch someone like you.”

Again it didn't make sense to you what he meant, but you felt it and you believed him. He was growing visibly weary so you decided not to ask him anything further. And when you were done stitching, he was fast asleep. You bandaged up the wound, turned off the lights and left him be.

You made your way to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of rosé. Your brain was banging against your skull, whatever happened from the evening truly felt like a fever dream. The man that you've been thinking about for the entire week and the man who this town thinks is a demon was fast asleep in your bedroom, it wasn't setting quite right in your brain. You drained the bottle, hoping you'd wake up from this. But instead you started feeling terribly exhausted. You wanted to just lie down on the floor and pass out right there but you deserved more than the hardwood floor after what happened that evening. Now if it was any other day, you would have slept on the couch but something about him was so magnetic that you couldn't keep yourself away from him. You stumbled your way to your bedroom and collapsed on the bean bag opposite to the bed. He was sleeping peacefully like a child. And looking at him, you too fell asleep with an empty bottle in your hand.

When you woke up, everything was blurry. Your headache hit your head before your vision did. As everything came into focus you saw him kneeling in front you, looking at you with his burning green eyes. The sun was coming in through the window above your head and it's glorious yellow glow bathed him. He looked like an ancient greek statue. However little humane he felt yesterday vanished just like that. With his soft lush curls draping over the face, he looked ethereal, kind but regal. You kept staring at him and couldn't quite speak. Whether it was the effect of his beauty or the hangover, you didn't know.

“You're awake” he said in a mellow soothing voice. He sounded much more lively than yesterday. He was still wearing only his pants. His body looked like it was carved out of a stone under the fuzzy sunlight.

You tried to say ‘hmm’ but made somewhat of a weird raspy sound. He didn't seem bothered by it.

“How's your wound?” you asked as you were trying to sit up properly.

“Better. Thanks to you.” he gave you a cordial smile. Something about that smile made you feel so safe even though a literal stranger was in your house at 6 in the morning.

-“um- do you want some coffee?”

-“No, you've already done enough, I think I should leave now”, he said as he looked at you with those mesmerizing green eyes. “Thank you (Y/N), I really appreciate your kindness”.

You didn't know what it was. Whether it was the way your name fell from his lips or the idea of him leaving and you not being able to see him again that sent a mix of anxiety and urgency down your body. You leaned in from the bean bag and crashed your lips onto his. Holding onto his shoulder for dear life, you pushed his body backwards with all your weight. You kept kissing him as if trying to devour him as quickly as possible. Running out of breath, when you pulled out, he had his back against the bed and you were half crawling half kneeling over his now stretched out legs. The position was almost as awkward as the situation. He looked at you with a startled expression, mouth slightly agape. You were just as appalled by your sudden inappropriate action.

“I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I should have asked. That was so inappropriate. I'm really so-” you blabbered on, flustered and ashamed of your actions.

“It's okay. I like you (Y/N)”, he cut you off and said with a soft loving voice, almost like you'd coo to a baby.

“B-but you don't even know me!”, the confusion in your voice was more than apparent. You looked at him wide eyed, hoping he would explain. Cause if he didn't, you wouldn't have the mental strength to ask him again after hearing what he just said.

“I don't need to know people like you all do” he spoke, the sunlight falling on him still making him look heavenly. “There's...There's a deeper knowing within me about people. From the place above and beyond. I knew you before, I know you now and I'd know you after this place too. I know you more than even you do perhaps. And I like you in all my knowing.”

His words felt like honey in your ears, his voice and accent made you feel light-headed. Or was it the hangover again? You couldn't tell. You didn't know. None of anything he said registered in your brain. Baffled, you just gawked at him, frozen in your uncomfortable posture.

Sensing your astonishment, he cupped your face with his hands and brushed your cheeks with his thumbs, with a smile that you were sure could cure you from all your illness. Under his touch you melted. It felt like electricity was running up and down your body. At this moment, you truly believed, he wasn't from this world.

Every bone in your body wanted to possess him.

And so you did. Kissing him with all the force you could muster. You crawled your way over his body, then straddling him. He kissed you back although more softly compared to your burning urgency. Your hands wandered into his soft hair, tugging and pulling. You were getting sloppy but you didn't take a moment off, you felt like if you did he might just slip off from under you like sand. Or you might wake up from this very vivid dream. You couldn't take any chances, you had to make the most of whatever it was, real or imagined. You were grinding against him slowly but aggressively. Your clothed chest rubbed against his bare skin. As his tongue mingled with yours, he tasted heavenly, like nothing you've tasted before. Your hands wandered all over his neck, shoulders and arms. You were trying to touch and feel everything that he was, he still didn't feel real to you. In your fervid bliss, you mistakenly pressed against his bandaged wound making him hiss out in pain against your mouth. Your ardent movements came to a halt as he slowly pulled away, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth, his lips glistened in the yellow sunlight.

“Go a bit easy on me, yeah?” he pleaded, his doe eyes piercing your soul. At that moment if he stabbed you in your heart, you'd die happy. But you wanted to please him, make up for whatever hurt you caused him. So you kissed him again, this time feebly. His mouth, the side of his mouth, jaw bone, neck, collarbone, you kept showering him with careful kisses, licks and bites all over his upper body. He was brushing his hands lovingly on your back. It felt like this was the moment you've been waiting for your whole life, you were quite sure you wouldn't exist afterwards. When you were done bathing every inch of his upper body with your lips you looked up to see his face. His affectionate gaze was sending warm ripples down your stomach. You felt his hardness against you and you knew what you wanted to do. You started kissing your way down towards his crotch, and after a bit of fumbling, you slid his pants off of him. There he was in all his glory. Without wasting a second, you took his cock in your mouth completely, as far as you could. His breath hitched at your sudden action. You glided your mouth up and down while your tongue went in circular motion around his length. If he was the god there then you were his one true devotee and you wanted to worship him, please him like your life depended on it. You heard him grunt softly and that made you soak through your panties. You could feel his body tense up, his breathing starting to get more and more rushed. You would finish him off like that if it weren't for his hands reaching down to cup your face and pull you up back on top of him. None of you were talking but it felt like you were communicating with him more than you've done with anybody before. He took your top off in a languid motion, followed by your bra. Your bare skin flush against his, like your body was on fire.

He eyed you up and down slowly, and uttered “you're beautiful”. You wished you could reply and say something but you were too out of your mind to do so. You only kissed him in return. After another fervent make out session, you pulled away, breathless. You were starting to get needy again as you felt your stomach slowly tightening up. He then pushed his back upwards in a clumsy way and sat up on the edge of the bed. You looked up to him and he looked celestial. At this point you weren't thinking anymore, everything you were doing was purely instinctual. He reached his right hand out to you and you took it. With one fluent motion he pulled you up and pinned you on the bed. He was now on top of you, staring down. You could see a glimpse of hunger in his eyes but his kind smile felt otherwise. It was him now who bathed your body with kisses. He lovingly took one of your nipples in his mouth and stroked the other one with his hand. With his warm tongue working on your nipple and his soft curls tickling your breast, you were quite sure you were in heaven. But you were getting impatient and you wanted to feel him inside of you. Unknowingly to you, your hips went up to grind against him as you whined sensually. He looked up at you and chuckled softly. You felt your cheeks warm up from embarrassment. But he complied with your will and helped you out of your pants and underwear. Now there was nothing between the two of you. He came up to face you as he positioned himself at your entrance. Your body felt like it would turn to dust at any moment. Your vision was hazy but you could swear his angelic beauty lit up the whole room. You felt like you were drowning in his eyes. But your reverie broke as he entered your body, filling you in. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around him. Your back arched up like a cat as he quickly found a rhythm and started hitting the right spot. Waves of pure bliss started to take over your whole body as your core started building up. You were a moaning mess under him, and his grunts felt like music to your ears. He was navigating the boat and you were just riding. He picked up the pace and became more and more aggressive. You could feel him smothering your cheeks, neck and breast with kisses. But honestly you couldn't tell anymore, you could only feel the waves rising and the tension building. Building and building and with a final hit, it all came undone. You came crashing down a mountain top but it felt euphoric. Your eyes rolled back somewhere into my skull. You could feel his tongue in your mouth, as his thrusts became more and more sloppy until it finally halted. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm fluid fill your insides.

When you opened your eyes, you were a panting and sweating mess. He pulled out of you slowly and rolled over to your side. He was equally as messy as you were. You turned on your side to face him. He was smiling at you coyly and in that moment it felt like you've known him for eternity. He was practically gleaming in the afterglow. As you were slowly coming down from the high a very embarrassing realization hit you. You didn't know his name. You just fucked someone you didn't even know the name of. You were becoming red with shame and he noticed.

“What's wrong?”, his voice filled with genuine concern. You were seriously considering if you should ask him that at this point. But you did,

-“I- um... what's your name?”

-“Vladek” he said softly and in that moment he looked so beautiful that you were afraid you'd go blind. Yet in his beauty there was this delicacy, this vulnerability. For some reason you felt like he didn't have much time left on his hands. As if he had to go back from where he came. He looked too vulnerable for this world and you had a very bad feeling.

[whump-town]

This ones for @clockedstar, I hope you love it 

Man Flu

Hotchniss, sickfic, 3,000+ words

On most mornings, the sound of Aaron’s alarm wakes her. Dave bought him this strange little get-up that vibrates on the nightstand instead of filling the air with a shrill, ear rattling sound. It was a Christmas present the year the New York bombing happened. She can’t complain, she prefers the little alarm clock to her own.

As stated, though, most mornings the alarm wakes her but today that’s not the case. 

The bed dips as Aaron’s weight is suddenly shifted on the mattress. Her momentary annoyance with the fact that her personal furnace has been pulled away is overcome by worry as said furnace jostles the bed with the force of the wet, heaving coughs leaving his diaphragm.

“Hotch,” she sits up and puts a hand on his back, surprised to find sweat has soaked through the thin Hanes shirt he’d put on before climbing into bed beside her last night. “Jesus,” she mumbles, pulling away. After her momentary shock she moves closer, the back of her hand pressing against his cheek. “Aaron, you’re burning up!” It’s understatement considering the way his skin burns her hand.

He shakes his head, stifling his coughs as best as he can to gasp out, “I’m okay.” 

She frowns at the back of his head. “You have a fever,” her tone shifts to aggravation, the kind of I’m putting my foot down on this that he knows all too well. “You’re sick.” That’s how things work with Aaron Hotchner-- that’s not to say she’s not the exact same way. Ailments are a pain, their normal pain with the additional wear and tear that comes refusing to admit to being sick.

His chest is killing him and he’s unable to stifle the new wave of coughing fits. As they go on, he grows lightheaded and his throat raw. He has to grab on to the bed’s backboard as he loses control of his body. 

“That’s it,” Emily decides, throwing the comforter off of her body as she gets out of the bed. “You,” she says, pointedly at the man looking at her with red-rimmed fever glazed eyes. “Do not move. I will be right back.” She doesn’t bother putting on pants, she’s wearing one of his shirts and it covers her bare skin to about her mid-thigh. “I am going to call Dave and tell him we’re not coming in. I’ll be back with medicine.”

He’s not given the chance to form a rebuttal before she leaves the room.

She should have seen this coming. For the last four days they’ve been on a high-stakes scene-- three girls ranging in age from six to four, left stabbed and violated in the woods for joggers to find. It had been the kind of case that none of them let up on. No sleep or food until someone else is forcing them to take a break.

What should have been the precursor to his current status, was the night he spent in the cold in nothing but his suit jacket as rain poured over them. He’d been unwavering despite their days of no sleep. On the jet, he’d been silent but mid-flight she’d startled as his head fell on her shoulder. 

He never sleeps on the jet and, for Hotch, that would be PDA-- a big no in his book.

He’s been off for hours and she didn’t notice. Guilt settles in her stomach and she feels queasy. He would have noticed. Hell, he wouldn’t have let her stand in the pouring rain without a jacket. He would have wrapped her up in a blanket when she fell asleep on the jet. 

God, she’s a shitty girlfriend.

Her call goes to Dave’s voicemail but she’d been expecting that. She leaves him a short message, the kind that she hopes sparks his curiosity enough for him to call later. It will, undoubtedly. She’s just informed him that she and Aaron are both sick and taking the day off, two things that never happen.

Well, not completely true. She and Aaron get sick a lot but unlike a normal person they both refuse to admit that they’re sick. 

Armed with Tylenol, she’s expecting to be met with his usual level of denial. 

She’d prefer it to the numb compliance she’s faced with.

“Aaron.” He’s managed to pull himself back into bed, curled into his side with a frown tugging his handsome features down. Sweat is sleek across his forehead and a pained frown has slipped onto his face. “Wake up, baby.” His breathing is ragged and wrong. It sounds like he’s breathing through a waterlogged straw. If that doesn’t improve, sooner rather than later, she’s going to have to drag him to the hospital. 

Slowly, his eyes blink open and he looks miserable. “I need you to take some medicine.” She has to guide the water bottle to his lips and that worries her more than she knows how to express. “Aaron…” she doesn’t want to fight him on this but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her right now that tells her he won’t fight if she suggests the hospital. 

“I don’t feel good.”

Her chest tightens, her throat feeling rubbed raw by words she didn’t speak. She settles herself on the edge of the mattress, smiling sadly when he moves to curl himself around her. “I know,” she whispers, carding her hand through his sweat soaked hair. She’s not sure how to comfort him. They haven’t been at this-- their relationship-- long enough for her to have cracked him.

She knows what she would want.

“Scoot,” she bumps him lightly with her hip, the only warning she gives before throwing her lips over his side and climbing back into bed. Caught in the haze of fever and the normal amount of confusion he has when talking to her, he just lays there as she moves atop him. 

Settling down beside him she opens her arms, “come here.” 

He coughs, wetly. He doesn’t move, just looks at her in confusion. After a moment, coming to the safe conclusion that he’s not just going to settle himself in her arms, she frowns. Right, she should have seen that coming. The thing is, he’s pretty clingy when he’s hurt or sick so he wants to be held, he's just not going to go crawling into her arms.

“Please?” 

Sitting up is harder than it should be and if she could, she would just get up and move closer to him. However it’s not going to help his congested lungs for her to come lay on his chest. So, he complies. Slowly but surely, he manages to sit up. The world, their room, dips and spins in a way that makes his head pound. He’s partially aware of Emily calling his name, her hands guiding him back down until his ear meets her chest.

He coughs as his body moves, limping going in the direction she pulls him. He chokes on a sigh, wheezing miserably as his inhale catches in his throat. “We’re gonna be late,” he rasps, shivering with the chills her cold skin sends down his back. He’s resigned to her touch and hums softly when she tucks the comforter back around his body.

She buries one hand in his hair, the other rubbing up and down his back. Judging by the way his eyelashes flutter, it’s working to soothe him back to sleep. “I already called Dave,” she supplies softly, attempting to jog his memory of the conversation they had not even five minutes before. “He knows you’re sick.”

He hums, grimacing with a moan as another shiver runs down his body. “It’s… ‘m not-- ‘m not sick.” He clears his throat, triggering a soft coughing fit that he doesn’t have the energy to stop or exert the force to expel the congestion in his lungs. “Fine-- ‘m fine.”

Emily keeps rubbing circles on his back, ignoring his soft protest. “I know,” she soothes, knowing better than to argue with him. Sick or not. “Just get some sleep, you’ll feel better in a little bit.”

She can feel the rattle of congestion lodged deep in his lungs each time he inhales. His breathing is picking up despite the fact that he’s falling asleep. Instead of his heart calming and his breathing slowing, he sounds worse. She wishes she knew what to do. 

He always knows what to do. 

She holds him close to her chest, gently scratching his scalp and rubbing his back. It’s all she knows how to do. The tylenol should help with the fever and, maybe if she can convince him, a bath might help too. It leaves her so bothered, so anxious that she’s not able to help him that she can’t go back to sleep. 

The time slips away slowly and all she can do is sit and listen. 

She just sits and listens.

Dave calls at six, he’s just getting out of bed himself and is a mix of too sleep-deprived and brain fogged to fully understand the message in his voicemail. It’s more alarming than anything else. Emily is frantic, the worry lacing her voice is nerve wracking-- Emily Prentiss is nothing but calm and collected. And she’d said something about one of them being sick?

“Hey, kiddo!” He wedges the phone between his shoulder and chin, scrubbing his hand down his face in effort to wake himself. “I just got your message--”

Emily feels the tension leaving her shoulders, the pain in her neck easing. “Dave,” she sighs. She freezes when she feels Hotch tense, afraid she’s managed to wake him up. He wheezes something intangible under his breath and with a mangled sigh goes limp in her arms.

“Teresa,” Dave replies and she can hear the fond smile in his voice. 

Emily resumes rubbing Aaron’s back, hoping to keep him sleeping while she talks to Dave. “Aaron’s sick,” she informs him, keeping her voice low. “I need your help,” she clears her throat. She forces her voice to even back out. “He’s got a high fever.” She kicks herself for not checking his temperature earlier. “He’s congested,” she chews on her bottom lip. “I can hear him breathing.”

Dave hums on the other end. “He’s congested,” he deduces. The good news is, he knows how to help with that but his method is really only applicable for babies. He is not so sure it’ll work the same magic on a grown man. “My nonna used to steam us,” he explains, “boil some water in a pot and have him put a towel or blanket over his head to force the steam into his lungs.” As soon as he’s said it, he realizes that those instructions alone are not going to be enough for the raging path of destruction that Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss leave in their wake.

“Let the water cool off,” he warns, a sudden tension headache forming behind his eyes. “Please do not burn him or yourself.”

Emily rolls her eyes. Dave always treats them like children. “Okay.” Secretly, of course, she’s thrilled to have a solution. One that’s better than the one Dave is offering. She knows for a fact that there is a vaporizer in Jack’s room. It’s currently buried in its original boxing under a hefty stack of chapter books but they have one. The vaporizer is a way better idea than Dave’s boiling water just waiting to go wrong.

“How is he,” Dave inquires. Aaron’s got to be pretty bad off to let Emily take care of him. 

Emily looks down at the man in her arms. With a shrug she replies, “he looks like shit.” She means it in the nicest way she can possibly think of. It’s not to tear him down or even insult him. He just looks bad and each wheezing breath he takes is nerve wracking. 

Hotch is more or less aware of what’s going on around him. Enough to hear Emily talking to Dave-- traitor. 

“Yeah well,” Dave can understand that. He’s known Aaron long enough to see that when something gets that man down he doesn’t let up until it’s gone or nearly crippled by it. That principle goes for more than just UNSUBs… it’s right up his alley to let a simple cold brew into pneumonia. 

“Color me surprised,” he mumbles. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. That boy… “Well, I’ve got to get ready. Take care of our boy, huh?”

Emily looks down at said boy and shakes her head. There’s a fat chance in hell she’s going to be able to have this stubborn ass man healthy by tomorrow but she’ll give it a try. “Alright.”

“I’ll call you at lunch but don’t be afraid to call if you need anything before then. Okay, bella? Take care of yourself, I love you.”

He’s gone before she can share the sentiment. 

Her chest is tight from the affection, her cheeks flushed. She loves Dave too and she knows Aaron shares that with her. He’s been a large contributor in their lives for a long time. A father… a lot of the time. 

“Shit?” She startles from her thoughts, frowning down at the man who she’d previously thought asleep. “Do I really look like shit?” His voice is a deep tangled mess of his normal husky morning sound with the addition of his inability to breath out of his nose. The answer is yes. He even sounds like shit but he looks up at her with theses soft pathetic  brown eyes and she can’t--

Rather than tell him the truth she leans down and kisses his temple. “Of course not.” 

He frowns at her, obviously he doesn’t believe that at all. He’s a profiler, a good one. So, she’d be worried if he did. 

“Don’t worry about that,” she mumbles. Besides, she’s got herself quite the itinerary for the next two hours. Not only can Hotch have another concoction of whatever medicine she can find, Jack needs to get up and get ready for school. A task, she senses, is going to be a handful she’s not prepared to deal with.

She pats Hotch’s shoulder, the warning she gives before gently extracting herself from his body. The cool air hits her and she realizes just how hot his body had been pressed to her own. Looking down at him, lines of sweat visible on his soft grey shirt, she decides they need a slight divergence from her plan.

She pulls the blankets back off of him, despite his moan of protest and the hurt look he sends her way. “Take your shirt off,” she instructs, leaning down to lift the edge of the soaked fabric herself. Getting the message that he’s got no choice in the matter, he helps her wiggle his tall frame out. 

There was once a point in their relationship where he refused to take his shirt off in front of her. In his mind, those nine stab wounds could be a deal breaker. The first time they’d had sex, he’d had a shirt on. In all fairness, she had on several layers of clothing as well. It had been a very jumping each other’s bones sort of affair. 

Now, he doesn’t even think twice as he sits squinting in the bed he’s shared with her for the better part of a year. Scars open for anyone to see. A pretty bad case of bedhead. 

She thinks his bedhead is pretty cute though.

“I’ll be back in an hour, okay?” She kisses his forehead, taking a moment to appreciate just how unraveled he looks. “Gonna get Jack off to school and then you and I can crash on the couch, okay?” She squeezes his hand within her own and leaves him before he can put up much of a fight.

Not that he’s sure he’s got too much fight left in him.

The first five minutes Hotch spends miserably spread out atop the comforter on the bed feels like hours. His brain is addled with the fever and he feels as hot and clammy as he looks. There’s a moment where he panics, convinced that Emily won’t come back at all. Down the hall he can hear her voice and with a content sigh, he lets himself slip off.

He wakes about ten minutes later, the sweat on his skin cooling and leaving him shivering from the light draft of the fan overhead. It takes all the energy he has to roll onto his side and pull blindly for a blanket to wrap his freezing frame in. 

The door cracks open and Hotch winces as the hallway light hits his eyes, making him aware of a headache he hadn’t known he had. 

“Daddy?” Jack’s sketchers light up the path he makes around to Hotch. “I gotta go to school, now.” 

Hotch forces himself to sit up, smiling despite the way the room dips and twists. “Have a good day,” he manages though his voice is weak and raspy. Jack meets him halfway and they share a short lived hug. “I’ll see you later, buddy. I love you.”

Jack turns back in the doorway, “I love you too, daddy.”

Emily comes to the door, “you better go before you’re late.” She squats down and they share a hug, too. “Have a good day, Jack-Attack.” She rustles Jack’s hair, the two of them laughing before Jack and his light up shoes disappear down the hall. 

They both listen for Jessica and Jack to leave, the sound of the front door shutting and the automatic lock to slip into place. With a sigh, Emily leaves her post at their doorway and steps back into the room. “Does it make you sad watching him get so big?” She sits down on the edge of the bed beside him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment.  

Of course it does and he feels like he misses so much of his growing up for this damn job. 

But he can’t quit. He doesn’t know how.

“He--” his voice is more broken than he’s expecting and he has to take a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “The other week he asked me about shaving,” he looks over at her, the two of them sharing a fond smirk. “I told him we’d talked about when he starts eating a variety of food.”

Emily shakes her head, “you mean something other than dinosaur chicken nuggets, macaroni, and oatmeal?”

Hotch chuckles, doing his best but ultimately failing to stifle the cough that tickles the back of his throat. 

She lifts her head and grimaces as each cough twists his face in pained ways. “I drew you a bath,” she tells him, rubbing circles on his back. “It’ll help with the aches and the fever.” She stands up, having decided that’s what they’re going to do first. 

“Come on,” she urges. He’s unsteady on his feet but he’s better than he was last night. “We’re just going to the bathroom,” she offers out her hand. Calling his name out softly until he reaches between them takes her hand. “Slow and steady?”

He nods, the rough pads of his hands making the faintest scuffing sound as he uses it to steady his unsteady steps. “Slow and steady,” he repeats.

They work their way to the bathroom and he stands hazy and weak as she coaxes him out of his boxers. It’s the sort of thing he should do himself but bending down makes his stomach twist and the last thing they need is him puking a top everything else going wrong today.

She turns to check the water, knowing it’s cooled off but wanting to be certain. Sure enough, the water is still hot to the touch but not enough to burn her skin. She turns back to him, stepping out of the way so that he moves closer to the tub. He manages to get into the water without busting his ass or cracking his skull open… a small miracle.

He leans his head back against the cold tile, “I would understand if you have no general interest in sleeping with me ever again.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, bending down to pick up his boxers. “Aaron, this is not the first time I’ve seen you drenched in sweat and shaky.” She thrives on the way his cheeks flush-- he’s such a school girl when it comes to talking about sex. Relishing the high flustering him gives her, she continues. “Although, normally it’s not a fever but that thing I do with my tongue and your--”

“Emily!” he groans, blushing impossibly hard.

Certain that she’s either going to send him into a coughing fit or give the poor man an aneurysm, she stops there. She bends down and plants a kiss on his head, scratching at his thick hair. “Make sure you scrub behind your ears,” she reminds him softly. Chuckling when he rolls his eyes-- that’s what he’s constantly telling Jack. “If you’re a good boy,” she whispers in his ear. “We can cuddle on the couch and I’ll play with your hair.”

He would rather be bludgeoned to death than let her tell a soul that he gets weak at the knees when she plays with his hair. But he’s a sucker for it. She knows the power she has over him in this moment but she does plan on making good on her word. 

She’s not going to say no to a good cuddle on the couch.

“Promise?” he rasps. He’s got a dopey look to his eyes that melts her heart. 

She cups his jaw in her hand, and infections be damned, kisses him. “Would I ever lie to you?” 

[stopeatingwhales]

just friends x damon albarn

omg this is my first anon request! i really really REALLY loved this one, so thank you to the person who requested it! x

Paring: parklife damon x reader 

Warnings: nothing at all :)

Word count: 2.221

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

There’s this whole illusion that working as a manager for a band is the greatest thing ever. Yes, it does have its perks like living on the road for a few months, travelling the world - although that gets extremely exhausting, and not only for me, but for everyone - but it's filled up to the brim with shelves of endless paperwork and countless meetings everyday. Not just that, but having to go to band recordings at least 2 times a week. I did enjoy them, but when your only power source is 3 cups of coffee and a chocolate bar, things start to get tiring. Evidently, being so worked up and stressed out, I had always pondered why out of all career choices, I had picked this specific one. The fantasy of working for a band and having power to be the decision-maker for most things had gotten to me; doesn’t everyone crave at least some sort of power in their lives?  

I was working for a band called Blur. I first started working for them early last year, a couple months before their release of their effortlessly amazing album Modern Life Is Rubbish. They decided to drop their old label, along with their previous manager, saying they were too ‘controlling’ and that they wanted to create a sound which pitched more into them as people. The band consisted of Damon Albarn, the gorgeous front-man, Graham Coxon, the man with immaculate skill on guitar, Alex James, the very tall and lovely bass player, and Dave Rowntree, the multi-talented drummer. This band had more to it than writing meaningful songs and catchy melodies. They meant something to me. 

Over the year and a half we’ve been co-workers, I have managed to establish a very close connection with the four boys. They understood my situation, having to always be present, even at times when I’m aching for a break, a holiday, a layoff. One of the reasons I held onto my job so dearly was because of them. There were times where I had been interrupted pouring my heart and soul with tears on my office floor, interrupted by them. They were all supportive; I had been through hell with bad, toxic relationships, my heart continuously feeling lonely and contaminated with the workloads I was given every dying hour. I was able to talk to them about it all, I was able to trust them at times when I felt that no one was there. Especially Damon. 

Out of all of the guys, I was closest to Damon. I wondered whether it was because we related a lot, us both having our mental struggles, but were able to try and find the good in things - attempting to enjoy our late nights as a group, or solo. Sometimes after performances, he would scan the room, a towel lousily gripped in his right hand, the other playing with the broad belt circling his jeans. His eyes would land immediately on mine, catching my lips, rounded in a small smile, my hands tied together in a grasp, preparing myself to softly clap at him for his usual exquisite performance. His eyes would squint at me, his nose scrunched up to the bridge of his perfected nose, his reciprocated beam casually showing some of his front teeth as he bit his lip in consumption, and anticipation for the night ahead of him - with me. 

A while back, I had to attend a photoshoot the boys were doing for a magazine cover. Rolling Stone maybe? I can’t recall. However, I remember my eyes never managing to leave Damon. His foolproof self never failed to bewilder me. His excellent jawline, the way his eyes shone a deadly stare at the camera, making anyone, even the photographer, blush at his inborn beauty. Graham noticed me, but I never shifted my stare, only when Damon made eye contact with me after due to Graham’s nudge, in which I glared at the ground in enmity - my ears perking out, hearing all the small giggles and small remarks at how I’m checking him out. 

“Aw, look at her, she’s gone red,” Alex teased, I felt the eyes of them all carving words on my body.

“Stop guys, just drop it,” Damon answered sternly, defending me. The boys rolled their eyes as they continued doing some more shoots, occasionally switching positions. 

His bandmates always speculated there was something going on between us, whether it be that we’re friends-with-benefits or we’re secretly dating from fear of paparazzi. Regardless, we always denied their child-like theories. We were just friends. Even if I thought time and time again that this isn’t how friends act, we were just friends. 

It reminded me of a vivid memory: the second pit stop on the journey to France on the Parklife tour. It was around 5 in the morning, we were all awake - due to our excessive drinking and non-stop chattering all night - and the guys were desperate to get out for some fresh air. Unless you were Alex, who had to throw up around two to three times because of the exceptional amounts of whiskey he downed during a game of truth or dare. Me and Damon were the only ones who hadn’t exited the bus, my drowsy eyes and limp body were giving me more pointers to relax and sleep on the sofa rather than let my stomach give out and be sick like Alex was. 

Damon was in the bathroom as I was trying to adjust my leg positioning on the small sofa fixated in the middle of the bus. I stared up to the ceiling, a dozen hazy thoughts flooding my mind every second. Hearing the sound of the door unlock, the bathroom door to be exact, rang through my ears as the small thuds of Damon’s feet pattered by - getting louder and louder due to him approaching tonight’s sleeping spot. The rough, worn down sofa. 

“You alright?” his raspy voice asked, causing a tired smile to curve onto my lip. I loved hearing his voice hoarse and gravelly, whether it being from the early mornings we had to get up to do sound checks at an arena, or after he had drunk too many shots like the rest of us, it always intoxicated my ear drums. It’s like when you try a sweet that your friend gave to you for the first time because she had a brimmed bag of them, and the taste so sweet but sour it coated your tongue so scornfully, you begged and craved for more.

“Yeah, just tired perhaps,” I stretched, shifting my gaze from the ceiling to Damon, standing there as if a war was going on inside his head. “Are you alright, Damon?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times, scratching his head roughly. “Yeah… Do you want to bunk with me tonight? You having to always sleep on the couch is kind of… Shitty,” he stammered, not knowing where to put his hands.

I sat up on the couch, my hands tied to either side of my body. The same, drained beam was splattered on my face, nodding slowly. “I would love that,” I stated, watching him reciprocate my smile onto his adorning features. “You’re going to have to help me up there though, I feel like I’m about to drop,” 

He laughed lightly, grabbing my arm and lifting me up from the settee. Guiding me to his bunk, I leaned on his body, my own being too exhausted to cooperate with me at this time. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, carrying my body to the bunk. As I laid in the bed, I inhaled the smell. The bed smelt of him. It had an aroma of worn down cologne, hooked with a scent of red wine - he carried a flavor that any woman would cling onto his arms and never let go. Watching him climb into the bed with me, was all a dream come true. 

~~~

We were currently in a recording session; Graham had mentioned that there was this new melody he had created, and wanted to show the rest of the band, hoping they’d find ways to add it into a new song of some sort. I was sitting at the back, by the exit door on the scruffy red couch, staring at the producer talking to Alex as he began to play a bassline he had formed on the spot. It had potential, the whole song did. The way that after a mere show of Graham’s guitar abilities, they were able to brainstorm ideas for a brand-new track on an album that hadn’t been created yet. Damon had some old lyrics written down from when he was on the road on their previous tour, so he had decided to use them on this event. Everything pieced together gracefully, my admiration for the entire band as a whole seemed to grow every single time I was able to peacefully watch them create another one of their artworks. 

“All right, Damon are you ready to record some vocals?” The producer asked, turning around in his swivel chair to make eye contact with Damon. He nodded, firmly grabbing onto his lyric sheet, licking his lips in anticipation as he stepped into the second room. 

As Alex left the other room, he came and took a seat next to me. Graham was talking to Dave, thinking of things they could include into the melody. I stretched my arms out dearly, avoiding hitting Alex, who was staring at me. I smiled at him, trying to initiate a conversation. “Good bassline you got there,” 

He chuckled nonchalantly, “That’s what I do,” 

Rolling my eyes at his sly remark, we began talking about the apprehension for a new album this year. “After this, we’ll all be inspired to write more stuff, so we’re bound to create a new album, even if we literally just got off tour,” he chirped as I nodded my head slowly, the sounds of Damon’s voice deafening me in the most alluring ways.

“He’s looking at you,” Alex added, nudging my arm, detaching me from my stance.

Confused, I swiftly turned my head to look at Damon, catching his eyes in mine. Even though he was far, three or four metres away perhaps, I was still able to study his wondrous, captivating blue orbs that I had grown so deeply mesmerised of. I began blushing lightly, feeling the throb of the blood rushing to my cheeks, as I bit my lip and looked down - once again. 

“Perfect, Damon, thanks for that,” the producer said, signalling for Damon to exit the room. He smiled and nodded, briskly walking out of the room. He grabbed his water bottle placed on an unused amp, taking a couple gulps from it before welcoming the repetitive comments. 

“Come on mate, if you’re gonna at least try and hide the fact you like Y/n, you should at least stare at times where we’re all looking at you,” Alex teased, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “And don’t try to deny you like her, when it’s so fucking obvious, mate,” 

“I mean he did sa-” Graham began, but instantly cut himself off as the realisation washed over him about what he was about to say. My eyes widened at his comment, almost immediately turning to look over to him, Graham, who was avoiding his eyes at me. 

“Seriously Graham?” I heard Dave mumble, my stare too consumed by the tiny rips on the couch arm. 

“I’m gonna go... To the toilet,” I lied, my mind overwhelmed over the situation. What was Graham going to say?

Countless things and speculations raced my mind as I stood outside the studio door, my head beginning to hurt as the situation replayed in my head. I leant against the cold wall, shutting my eyes in an attempt to recollect myself. It didn’t mean anything right? 

As if on cue however, the door opened, a gush of air brushing past me. Opening my eyes, I was welcomed to the sight of Damon, anxiously standing in front of me. “There’s something I need to tell you, but you can’t get angry and leave after I say it, okay?” he rushed, walking away from the door and to the wall beside me. Nodding, I chewed on my top lip, fear painting my face all over. “I… I love you, Y/n, and I have for, god knows how long.”

Once those words escaped his mouth, I felt my heart drop. After the continuous ‘we’re just friends’ speeches, I realise it was all false. I knew the way we acted towards each other was more than friends. More than best friends. We both liked each other, for a really long fucking time. 

“Thank fuck,” I answered, grabbing his neck and kissing him. His lips tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth due to the lip balm he had put on at the start of the session made me want to fasten my lips around his mouth and put the world on hold. I wanted to stay like this, forever.

Pulling away, our previous frowns had formed into smiles. I smiled so wide my face began to hurt, my heart feeling like it exploded after hitting the ground, like a firework on new years eve. “I love you too,”

[staylovehearts]

The Other

Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count ~3.3 k

Summary: “I mean I guess it was kinda flattering at first and I was really proud to be with you when all of them keep saying how pretty you are, but it's starting to become a little irritating now."

Tags: fluff, light angst, discussion of feelings and insecurities, they are an idol group in this, established relationship, jisung is a jealous baby

Booming loud music is coming from the training room even though they are technically supposed to be soundproof. But standing in that almost weirdly clean hallway with the bright lights right in front of the door the music is clearly audible. And so are the other sounds coming from the inside. The synchronized stomping, jumping and squeaking of many different feet upon linoleum flooring. You've never actually been inside one of these practice rooms but you have seen them in videos countless times. But just the idea of actually setting foot inside feels wrong.

You feel awfully out of place here, like you are somehow invading a space that's not meant for you. Sure you have that little visitor badge hanging around your neck and you showed off your permit when you were asked for one at the reception. But you could kind of sense people staring at you as you made your way through the hallways, carefully observing every sign to not make a wrong turn somewhere and maybe accidentally end up in someone's dressing room. There are two crowds mingling in these hallways. On the one side, there's the staff, managers, coaches and all kinds of different people involved in producing and designing an album. Most of them dressed in business casual, they are always hurrying, their steps as quickly as they can without having to run. Faces glued to a cellphone, pager or clipboard they are holding. And then there are the idols and trainees. Gorgeous, all of them. Mostly dressed in sportswear as they make their way to and from training rooms, sweaty hair pushed back or put up in ponytails, hints of make-up that hasn't been sweat away yet and funky hair colours that are in various states of growing out or fading into pastel versions of what they used to be. You fit in with neither of them. And you are sure that the other people here notice that as well.

You've tried to keep your head down for the most part. To keep walking without standing around or looking at anyone or anything for too long. You don't want to be loitering here where you feel so much like you don't belong. And now you've finally made it here. The little plastic sign next to the door has the exact same number as the one you wrote down in your notes app. You've compared them at least ten times now. And yet you're hesitant to just step in. Unsure of whether to knock – would they even hear that over the music? – or to just hurry inside and be back out within a moment. Are you even allowed to go in just like that? Wouldn't you be disrupting them? What if they're filming something? You'd ruin the material.

Suddenly, the music stops. You can hear the faint sound of someone clapping and then a mixture of voices. But you can't make out any words. Yet, this is probably the best opportunity you will get. Better to make it quick than keep standing around in front of their training room like some weirdo. You knock on the door softly and when there is no clear response you take a deep breath and just push it open.

All eyes are on you once you've stepped inside. The air is heavy, almost humid, the mirror fogged up. There is a distinct smell of sweat and excessive amounts of body spray you can just barely fight back the urge to cover your mouth and nose. The boys are sitting or lying on the floor all across the room, either talking among themselves or gulping down an entire bottle of water. But as soon as they have all noticed you all conversation dies down.

"Uh, hi, I just wanted to drop something off, uhm, I'm-"

"Babe, what are you doing here?", a cheerful voice interrupts your mumbled explanation when one particular boy jumps up from the floor to hurry towards you. Jisung has a surprised smile on his face. As if he is both confused by you thrilling here and also excited to see you here. He has those excited puppy eyes that make him so adorable. But his cheerful greeting has also attracted attention from the others in the room. While at first their gazes towards you were only mildly surprised or confused they are now full of curiosity.

"You left this at my place last time, and I figured you might need it so I went to bring it over. Oh and I also got you some snacks, make sure to share." As you speak you almost shove the little plastic bag you have been carrying into Jisung's hand. He takes it with a soft smile.

"I should forget stuff at your place more often if that means that you'll come over to bring me snacks when I'm training", he says. Someone whistles and Jisung's head whips around to find the offender.

"Yo, Jisung, is that the one you won't shut up about?", one of the other guys – Changbin – asks almost provocatively.

"Yeah, you never told us you were dating such a beauty", Minho adds.

"Ugh, shut up", Jisung comments, but you can see a small blush creeping up onto his cheeks. Then again, it might just be that he is still overheated from dance practice. "Let's go outside for a moment, we're taking a short break either way", he mumbles at you. Even more whistles.

"Remember, no making out in company-owned buildings", Chan warns just before Jisung can push you out of the room and close the door behind you.

"I'm sorry, they don't know how to behave around someone so pretty", he says once you two are standing out in the hallway. You giggle at the compliment.

"They seem nice."

Jisung rolls his eyes at your comment but then he breaks out into a wide grin again. "Look at you having all these guys swooning over you. I should consider myself lucky that I get to be with you. After all, they're right about one thing, you're damn beautiful."

                                                               ~

"Ugh", Jisung groans he puts down his bag on the empty chair next to the one he just sat down on. The light inside the small soba noodle shop is dimmed down, it's almost completely empty. Which is reasonable considering it's basically the middle of the night. There are only a few other customers, most of them sitting alone, always making sure to leave a few empty tables between them and the other people. And you have made sure to pick the table in the most deserted corner of the entire establishment.

"Sorry for making you wait, practice ran a little longer than I thought it would", Jisung mumbles. He has a black bucket hat hiding his bleached hair and hanging down far enough to almost cover his eyes. A mask is covering most of his face, making his voice sound a little muffled. He glances around himself almost nervously before he pulls it down to free his mouth and give you a sheepish smile.

"It's fine, I also only really just got here a few minutes ago." That's a blatant lie. You've actually been waiting here for around half an hour now. The waiting staff must be pretty upset with you at this point, the same young waitress has come over to your table to ask for an order three times now. And you had to ask for a little more time every time. And every time her smile seemed a little more forced. At least you've ordered a drink the second time she came by and have been taking very slow sips of it ever since to stall for time. But you know that it can't be helped. It's not like Jisung made you wait on purpose. It's out of his control. And you knew what you signed up for when you agreed to date him.

"I still feel really bad for asking you to meet me here in the middle of the night. I wish I could take you on normal dates. You know, go out without having to do all this undercover bullshit and only meeting past midnight in some noodle place."

You can't deny that you would want that as well. And you also can't pretend that it bothers you sometimes. To be with someone who only rarely manages to make time for you and when he does you can never really go anywhere too public. You can't just call or text him whenever you feel lonely. Well, you could, but he'd probably take hours to get back to you. And then he'd feel bad about it. You know that Jisung genuinely feels bad that he can't be with you more. And that is the main reason why you won't allow yourself to be too upset about it. He's pouting. You counter with a smile.

"I already told you that it's fine, stop moping around. I'm thankful that you managed to make time for me at all, I know that your schedule is super tight right now. Let's rather enjoy the time we have than complain about the time together we don't get."

Jisung seems to cheer up at that.

"You're right! It seems like I haven't seen you in forever. When even was the last time we met up?"

"Not even that long ago. I came by to drop some of your stuff of while you guys were training just last week, remember? Then again, I guess that doesn't really count as meeting up..."

"Ugh, don't remind me, the guys won't stop teasing me about it", Jisung complains. He's once again sticking out his bottom lip in a small pout that looks a little childish but also adorable. Not that the two are mutually exclusive either way. "They also won't shut up about how they can't believe I'm with someone as gorgeous as you. I mean I guess it was kinda flattering at first and I was really proud to be with you when all of them keep saying how pretty you are, but it's starting to become a little irritating now."

"Oh come on, I bet they're just doing it to tease you, they'll get bored of it."

"Probably, but it's so annoying, I don't like when other guys talk about you like that. I mean, I'm not going to argue with them, you are drop-dead gorgeous, even a blind person would be able to tell. But it kind of irks me to hear other dudes say that about you. I don't like them looking at you like that. Like you're some pretty thing they could just take away from me."

"You do know that you don't owe me either, right?", you comment. While Jisung's jealousy is somewhat cute and you don't mind him becoming a little bit possessive you want to make it clear that you are still your own person.

"Of course, that's not what I meant, it's just that... Ugh, I don't even know, probably I'm just being stupid."

You reach out a hand to gently poke his cheek until he's looking at you so you can smile at him from across the table.

"Forget about that for now. You should better be thinking about what you want to eat, I feel like the staff are going to kick us out if we don't order something soon."

                                                              ~

hey we all have some free time, most of the other guys are visiting their families but my parents are busy so I'll be almost alone at the dorm this weekend, wanna come over?

Jisung sent you this a few days ago. The message came as a bit of a surprise. Not just because you know how rare free time his in his business but also because it's the first time he's ever actually invited you to the dorm. You asked about visiting there once when you had just started dating and he gave you this whole rant about how it's probably not good because the risk of someone seeing you go in is just too high and all of that. A lot of beating around the bush until he finally admitted that mostly he just didn't want to take you there because the dorm tends to be kind of messy with so many mostly unsupervised young boys living there together. And you never really brought it up again after that. But now here you are, with an official invitation.

Even though Jisung has given you clear instructions on how to get inside and what the number code for the big front door is you still feel awkward stepping into the building where the dorm is. Is it even legal for him to give out that code? Of course, you don't intend on doing anything with it, but still, it seems like something that should not just be given out to random visitors.

To your surprise, the one opening the door to the actual dorm is Felix. He seems to be just as surprised to see you here but that surprise quickly turns into a grin.

"So I guess you're here to meet up with Jisung, lucky him. Come on in", he gestures for you to follow him inside and you do so a little hesitantly. The place really does look a little messy but from what Jisung described you had prepared for worse. Sure, there are some discarded clothes on the floor and several opened snack packages all over the place, but nothing that a little tidying up couldn't fix.

"Are you the only other one still here? Jisung told me that you're all visiting family and stuff like that." Felix responds to your awkward attempt at small talk with another smile.

"Ah, you see Chan and I can't really go back to our family if it's just for a weekend or so. But we wanted to do a little trip on our own, we're almost finished packing up, so we'll be out of your hair soon", he laughs. You can feel your face turning slightly red. Of course, you should have figured that they probably can't be making oversea trips to their family all that easily. You can't even imagine how hard it must be to not be able to just go back home for so long.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, I totally didn't want to get rid of you", you apologise quickly. Felix just laughs a little more.

"I know, I know, it's all good. You should probably not keep your boyfriend waiting though."

As if Jisung had only been waiting for his cue he bursts out of one of the many doors and stumbles into the big room that is half kitchen half living space. He sees you and Felix stand together and quickly looks back and forth between the two of you before approaching.

"I thought you'd text me when you get here?", he says, pouting.

"I texted you five minutes ago saying I'd be here soon." You go over to greet Jisung with a hug but he doesn't squeeze you back as tightly as he usually does. When you separate from him again you see him kind of looking to the side. Usually, he'd be smiling at you. Felix is still awkwardly standing in the room, looking at you two.

"Well, I better go check if Chan is done packing. Was nice talking to you", he mumbles. You just barely manage to get out a "Yeah, same", before he disappears into one of the rooms.

"You look upset", you notice as soon as Jisung has shut the door to his room. Aside from having barely greeted you properly he also hasn't really said anything to you after that. He pretty much just gestured for you to follow him without even really looking at you. He seems agitated. Completely on edge, pacing up and down the room while you can only stand there not sure of what to do. Jisung is running his fingers through his hair before he turns to give you an almost pleading look. Sad, desperate, exhausted.

"It's just... I don't even know how to say it, but it's getting to me. It's so annoying how they talk about you. It drives me crazy."

"Why are you even so jealous? Who cares what they say?" Okay, maybe that last sentence came out a little too forceful. You can see Jisung recoiling. Now he just looks defeated. He sits down on his bunk bed with a heavy sigh.

"You're so amazing. Of course, other guys notice that as well. But hearing all of them say it over and over again kind of makes me insecure. Like, why would you want to be with me when all these other amazing guys want you as well? I'm just... jealous I guess. Of their talent and how amazing they are. And hearing them say how amazing you are is frightening. Because there are so many guys better than me. Guys that would make time to see you and sweep you off your feet. What if one of the more amazing guys comes along and just takes you away from me?"

"Oh Jisung...", you sit down next to him, gently wrap and arm around him and place your head on his shoulder. "You're such a big idiot."

"I'm sorry", he whispers into your hair. You can hear him sniffle a little but you pretend to have overheard it. He'd probably be even more upset if you were to see him cry right now.

"I know that this probably won't do much to change your mind right away, but I swear that I only have eyes for you. I don't care about any other guys. When they call me pretty it's annoying. I only want to hear it from you. I wanted to be with you, even though I knew you would not have a lot of time for dates and that things would be hard on both of us. But I-", you stop for a moment. You haven't really said this before. Neither of you has. But maybe now is just the right moment. "I love you, Jisung."

You can feel how his body goes stiff beside you for a moment. His breathing comes to a staggering halt. Then he relaxes again, wraps an arm around you as well to pull you close.

"I love you too. And I'm sorry for being dumb. I guess I just need some time to get used to this whole relationship thing. It's not like I doubt you, I just doubt myself sometimes."

"I get that. But you know, if anything I should be the insecure one."

"Huh? Why? You're amazing."

"But so are you. And you have all these fans screaming your name and almost fainting when they see you. And you also have all these other pretty and successful people around you all the time. And then there's me. But you picked me regardless. And I'm so happy that I get to be with you. Why would I ever want anyone else?"

Maybe Jisung needs a moment to think about that, at least he doesn't respond right away. But then that moment continues and when the silence is finally starting to make you nervous you raise your head a little to look at his face. You've never seen him smile like this before. So soft and full of adoration. You lean in almost on instinct. Jisung gently cups your face with his hands and when your lips meet for a soft touch you can feel how his smile moulds your lips into the crescent same shape.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door.  He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation. 

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

 I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it. 

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk. 

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #366

“you can’t take me from me”

If you’re a girl, have you ever had the urge shave your hair? No. Do you live by a forest? Not anymore. :( How old are your parents? Late 50s. What do you prefer: Small cars, hybrids, trucks or SUVs? Uh, I guess normal ones? Like the ones with four doors and not that horribly low to the ground. What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? I've never read a book that was scary to me. Do your parents drink? Dad doesn't anymore, and Mom very rarely does, usually just for special occasions. Does downloading music without paying make you feel guilty? Yes, so idk why I still do it. .-. Do you have any pet fish? Nah. What’s your favorite seafood to eat? I only like shrimp. Does your house have air conditioning? Yes. Name the creepiest horror movie character for you: Ghostface, ever since I was a kid. I was horrified of him, and I still think his design is mega creepy. How many college degrees do you want? I wanted to get at most a Bachelor's (I never saw reason to go higher in the fields I was interested in, except for my brief wildlife biologist aspiration), but now I know I'm not getting any degrees. Do you like animals? I love animals. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes. What do you wear to sleep? Pj pants and a tank top. How many keys do you carry with you? One. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah. Sometimes Dad and I would go to hockey games together. I don't really care for sports, hockey included, but it was still something we bonded over since I was normally in the living room on the laptop while he was watching it. Which do you value more, intellect or work ethic? Work ethic. Both are important, but I'd rather have a dedicated, worthy employee versus a lazy one that just happens to have brains. Have you ever been covered in mud? Yes, as a kid. Ever been to a cabin on a mountain? No, but omG I fucking wish. Ever lost your voice? Yes. Do you take your time when making an important decision? I take way too much time because I obsess over doing the right thing. Are you a cautious person? Very. Do you chew gum? Sometimes. What makeup product do you never use? A lot, really. Bronzer is literally never, I haven't touched blush in forever, and the same goes for foundation. Have you ever been offered drugs on the street? No. Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Only at aquariums. Do you ever put bread in your soup? UGH, NO. Bread should NOT be soggy. Do you want some soup? No, I don't even really like soup. Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? Yeah, the sensor thing for my wireless mouse. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? I don't believe so; I'd certainly feel it and wake up. Have you ever done that to someone else? Pretty sure no. Is there any TV show you watch religiously? No. Do you like the window seat or aisle seat on an airplane? WINDOW. I hate the aisle seat, mainly because I get dizzy when I can't see outside for some reason? I really don't know how that works, but when I sit at the window and can see what the plane is doing, I don't get dizzy. I also really want to just stare outside as I listen to my iPod. Has anyone ever really insulted you? Yes. Do you ever make banana sandwiches? I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich rarely. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Probably Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Phil went HARD, y'all. Did your parents teach you how to cook/bake when you were growing up? There were rare occasions where I helped cook, but I never really learned. If you could own any three fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show) Ohhh, interesting. I'm going to include games in this, because that's what I'm most informed in. ... And I'm still blanking. OH! Definitely a Dreamvisitor from Wings of Fire, as I think it'd be pretty cool or even useful to see into other's dreams and even communicate. The Obsidian Mirror from the same series would also be pretty cool, but also seems somewhat immoral to me, I guess, to be able to spy on others. I mean it could be useful in some cases, but still. I somehow can't think of a third one, even after expanding my options to games. A lot of game objects are just too specific to their fantasy universe and not helpful in real life. What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve worked somewhere? Not even two hours lmaoooo. Have you ever negotiated a pay raise? No. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? No. Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services? No. What is your favorite smell/scent? Cinnamon rolls. How long can you run without stopping? I honestly don't think I *could* run without my knees immediately being like "um excuse the fuck out of you" and crumpling. What age do you want to live to? I know this varies from person to person, so I can't say an exact age, but I do. NOT. Want to live to where I'm a liability/require other people to take care of me, like give me a bath and stuff. No. Fuck-ing. Thank you. If you had a time machine, when would you go to? I'd honestly want a glimpse into my future, just to see how I'll be. At the same time though, I feel like knowing would suck if I saw something bad instead of a good life. Like, I'd possibly be suicidal again if it's just crap. I feel like if I was legitimately offered this, I would say no. Have you ever been infatuated with someone and you didn’t even know why? No. I think. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Is your more photogenic side your left or right? Well, because of how my hair is positioned, my left side. My hair is parted very far to the left, so the right side of my face is sorta cut diagonally by hair. Do you currently owe money to anyone? No. If you were ever to be on the news, what would you want it to be for? Something heroic, I guess. What’s the fastest you’ve ever driven? Accidentally, probably up to like 80 on the highway. Have you ever donated blood? Have you ever done a blood test? I have to both. Have you been inside of a burning building? What happened? Z O I N K S no. Do you believe in astrology/horoscopes? Nope. Have you ever dined alone at a restaurant? No. Have you been in a car accident? What happened? Yes. Some idiot was carrying wood in the back of his truck, and it wasn't secured whatsoever. He hit a bumpy spot, and some of the wood dropped to the road, and he began to swerve out of control. Nailed the side and bumper of my mom's car. Mom drove into a ditch, but in some manner to avoid us flipping over, which judging from the impact point, cops theorized was "supposed" to happen. Nowadays I am terrified to ride or drive behind trucks carrying anything in the back. Have you ever lived alone? No. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Once, on my leg. Have you ever bought stuff at a thrift store? Yeah, I love thrift shops. What was your very first email address? The one I still use now, so I won't share it. It fits me well, but I still hate sharing it, haha. It's just not very "adult-ish." How often do you take naps? Just about every day. Have you ever won a game of pool? Idr. Have you ever seen a tornado in real life? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Have you been in a long-distance relationship? Yes. Have you swam in the ocean? Yeah, I love it. Have you gone ziplining? No, but it'd be cool! Have you been rock climbing? No, just those mock walls at school field days and stuff. Have you hitchhiked? No. Have you had stitches? Where? My chin and then at the very base of my spine. Have you ridden in a taxi? What about an Uber/Lyft? None of those. Have you ridden on a horse? Not legit, but at childhood festivals where there are some horses that walk in a circle... the poor things. I would LOVE to ride a non-restrained, tame horse. Ugh, I wish I could have a horse in general. Their ability to bond with humans is magical. I'll never actually have one, though. I could nooot do all the care they require, and I don't plan on living somewhere where having a horse is appropriate. Have you taken part in a protest? What for? No, just boycotting. Have you ever signed a petition? Yes. I can't remember all of them. Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? No. Have you ever given someone else a haircut? No. What is the longest your hair has been? Just past the small of my back. Have you ever been stranded because your car broke down? No. Thank god for phones, lol. Have you performed on stage? What did you do? Yes, for school band concerts as well as dance recitals. Have you ever used a tanning bed? What about tanning spray? No. How do you prefer to celebrate your birthday? Just quiet and chill with my family, but still give me alone time, please. Who is the best cook that you know? /shrug Do you believe in Bigfoot? What about the Loch Ness Monster? The Loch Ness Monster I don't, but I find surviving sasquatches very possible. There's just too many reported sightings to be totally ignored. I'm not 100% on them still being around, though. I feel like we would've caught one by now. Do your friends tend to be male or female? Female. If you could change anything about human nature, what would it be? Our proclivity to violence when angered. Have you ever fainted? Yes. What skills would you like to learn? Cooking, how to handle money in various contexts, social skills... There's a lot of things. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Meerkats, for sure. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don’t. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? No. Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. Do you have a favourite outfit that you like to wear for nights out? I don't have "nights out." When you have a soft drink, do you prefer it in a bottle or can? I like cans because the metal helps it stay cold. Who was the last person to embarrass you? What did they do? I don't know. When you’re upset, do you tend to comfort eat or lose your appetite? I am a BAD comfort eater. Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? Does/did that person go to the same school as you? My online friend Sammy. No. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? No. When was the last time you used a public toilet? Ummm I think for my birthday lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason has brown eyes. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? That '70s Show and especially Supernatural.

[halsteadbrothersfanfics]

  All Better?

Will had known from the age of six that he'd grow up to be a doctor. He could pinpoint the exact moment the idea was planted in his head. It was one of his fondest memories and never failed to make him smile. Sometimes, when he was stressed, or sad Will would think back on it and almost immediately feel better. Guess childhood memories had that effect.

 Reaching out with his hand to tightly grip Jay's, Will let out a shuddering breath. Tears blurred his vision as he tried to recall those memories up now. Anything to help reconcile the image of his brother's prone and broken body laying before him. Anything to help drown out the continuous beeping of the heart monitor in the corner. He supposed that it should grant him a small amount of comfort but unfortunately all it did was remind how much of a failure he was as a brother.

 So instead, he imagined the beeping turning into the sound of Jay's laughter, echoing down the hallway of their childhood home. His small and unsteady feet trying their hardest to keep up with Will as they ran around the furniture.

 At the respective ages of five and two, both brothers were bundles of boundless energy. Unfortunately for Jay, he hadn't quite developed the fine motor functions required to weave his way around all the furniture and toys without bumping into something. Will could still remember the exact feeling of horror he had, when upon turning around to gloat victoriously from atop the couch, he saw Jay trip over the edge of the rug and smack the ground with a loud thud.

 Jay went chin first, sliding a few inches across the carpet. Both boys were silent for a few seconds before Jay's face scrunched up in pain and he let out a loud wail. Will frantically slid off the couch and ran towards Jay, praying their father wouldn't wake up. He had just gotten home from a graveyard shift a few hours ago and was supposed to be watching them while their mother was at a doctor's appointment, but as soon as the door had closed behind her, their father had rounded on Will. The instructions had been clear. 

 "You are responsible for Jay and you will under no circumstances, wake me before my alarm goes off."

 Panicking slightly, Will pulled Jay onto his lap as best he could. Jay was clutching his chin with a hand and sobbing, his face red with anger. Gently Will pulled Jay's hand away from his chin, frowning at the rug burn. 

 "It's ok," Will said confidently. "I can make it better, but you have to be big like me and not cry. We don't want daddy to wake up. Can you be big like me?" Will asked.

 Jay smashed his lips together tightly to keep from crying, chin quivering. He ended up looking more grumpy than brave but Will wasn't about to mention it. Slowly they stood up, Will grabbing Jay's hand and pulling him towards the bathroom. 

 With great determination Will managed to help Jay climb up and sit on the edge of the tub, just like their mama did when she cleaned up Will's scrapes and cuts. Giving Jay a quick kiss on the head, Will climbed up onto the counter, grabbing all the necessary items before sliding back down onto the floor. 

 "You're doing a good job," Will reminded Jay when he started to sniffle again. "Don't worry, it'll be all better soon."

 Will opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and tried to carefully pour it on the rag he held. Unfortunately it ended up spilling more onto the floor than the rag. Jay giggled slightly at the mess, laughing harder when Will stuck his tongue out at him. It was nice to hear Jay laugh, knowing he was the one that made him feel better.

 "Be brave," Will said. "This is going to sting but then you get a bandaid. We even have blue ones." Holding the bandaids out for Jay, Will took advantage of the distraction they provided, and quickly dabbed the rag across Jay's rug burn, praising him so he wouldn't start crying again. Once that was done Will blew gently across the wound until it dried and applied a blue bandaid. He examined his handy work for a second before adding a bunch more, just in case.

 "All bedder?" Jay asked, staring wide eyed up at Will when he was finally done.

 "Mmhmm, all better." Will confirmed with a nod of satisfaction. Mama would be proud of him right now. "C'mon let's go get some popcorn and watch tv." 

 Will smiled slightly to himself at the memory. Their mother had come home an hour later to find them cuddled up on the couch watching cartoons and shoving their faces with popcorn. He had been so proud of himself that day and any other time he'd needed to patch Jay up. His younger brother had been a bit of a wild child, always getting himself hurt trying to do dangerous things.

 After that day though, Jay wanted to do everything Will did, looking up to Will like he was a hero. Will wished he could have lived up to Jay's expectations, been the hero he needed. He didn't feel like a hero much right now, he just felt like a failure. 

 "It's not your fault." Connor's voice sounded from the doorway. 

 "You don't know what you're talking about." Will snapped back, purposely refusing to look at the other man. His grip on Jay's hand tightened when he heard Connor make his way into the room, standing at the edge of the bed.

 "I do actually, because no matter how hard you try you can't control someone else's actions. You didn't make your father push Jay down a flight of steps, just like you didn't make Jay go over there."

 Snarling in anger, Will whipped around to glare at Connor. "Don't you dare try and blame Jay for this. I should have known something would happen and stopped it, that's my job as his brother. I'm supposed to protect him."

 Connor held his hands up placatingly, "I'm not blaming him and I'm not blaming you, no matter how much you think you deserve it. You had no idea something like this could happen. Your father, the one who pushed him, didn't even know. It was pure bad luck Jay fell the way he did."

 Will shook his head, "Doesn't change anything, I knew that one day our dad would go too far." He turned back to face Jay. "Dad was already pissed that he was being moved into a new place, I shouldn't have let Jay go help him alone. I can't make this better. I can't fix the fact that our father almost killed him."

 "I know I'm not going to be able to change your mind on that but I'm sure as hell, that your brother is going to be pissed when he wakes up and sees you like this." Connor forced Will to look at him. "You can't go back in time and stop this from happening, but if you want to help your brother then you can stop wallowing in self guilt. The only thing that can come from that is hurting yourself and Jay because lord knows, he is exactly like you. He sees you suffering and he will feel just as guilty as you do now and he sure as hell doesn't need that extra stress."

 Connor didn't want to be mean to Will right now but no one was doing anything and he couldn't just sit back and allow Will to self destruct. They may have their arguments but Will was still his friend and what else are friends for, then to be there, lending a helping hand to pull you back onto your feet when you need it most. Right now, Will definitely needed that hand.

As much as Will wanted to argue that he should be suffering alone with Jay, he knew Connnor was right. Jay would spot his guilt from a mile away and ignore his own health just to ease Will's suffering. They were too much alike for comfort sometimes. "I need him to be alright." 

 "He will be," Connor said confidently, even though he knew better. "He is already showing remarkable improvement from when he was brought in. The swelling around his brain has reduced to a comfortable enough level for them to remove the drain later tonight. You might be stubborn as hell but I'm pretty sure Jay has you trumped there. No way in hell he'll let this take him out."

 Will let out a weak laugh. "Your right. That pains me to say, by the way."

"I generally am," Connor said, feeling slightly better now that Will seemed to be coming out of his funk. "I'll be back to check up on both of you later." He gave Will a comforting pat on the back before making his way out of the room, stopping when he heard Will call his name.

 "Thank you," Will said. "I needed to hear that." Connor nodded his head, leaving as quietly as he arrived.

 Will turned back to his brother, focusing all his attention on the injured man. He leaned in, whispering in Jay's ear, "I promise you that no matter what happens, I'm always going to be there for you. I know I wasn't there for you after I left for college but I'll never leave you again. You just have to come back to me." Will choked out the last sentence, bowing his head in prayer. 

 A few hours passed until Jay was taken to have the drain removed. Will stood in the hallway watching them take his little brother away. He knew it would be a while before they returned so he found a spot where his co-workers couldn't find him easily. Natalie had been eyeing him with great concern and he knew she wanted to talk to him but right now he just needed a moment alone, to gather his thoughts before Jay came back. Finding an empty room to hole up in, Will sunk down with his head between his knees, allowing his mind to wander to better times again. A time when he had been there to protect Jay.

 Will had never been one for violence, that was more Jay's area, even for someone who came from Canary Ville. Sure, he knew how to throw a swing or two but he'd rather avoid it if he could. Unfortunately it was something the bullies in his grade had noticed rather quickly. They'd throw a punch once or twice, maybe say some rude things, but it never really bothered him that much. Most of it never even phased him enough for more than a passing thought.

 Jay on the other hand took great offense to it when he found out, which wasn't until his freshman year and Will's senior year. It was just dumb luck Will had been walking by when he was close enough to hear Jay confront one of his bullies. Now Jay, unlike his older brother, loved to get into fights. He might not have been large in size, his growth spurt came a little late in the height department, but he didn't take shit from anybody and loved to have a chance to prove himself. So of course when he decided to take care of the people messing with his older brother he had to confront the largest one of the bunch. A large jock who looked like he might be taking steroids.

 Will had heard Jay's yelp as he went sprawling to the ground, struggling to stand back up when the jock's foot kicked him in the side. He went back down to the ground, wind knocked out of him. Will's entire body seemed to burn with anger and all he could think about was beating the living hell out of the asshole attacking his brother. At the time he was unaware that Jay had started the fight, not that it would have mattered, and simply assumed the jock had decided that Jay was an easy target like his brother.

 "Hey!" Will shouted, dropping his things and running towards the fight. 

 "Well would you look at this, your brother wants a beating too." The jock smirked down at Jay, completely ignoring Will. The smile was knocked off his face when Will spun him around delivering a swift punch to the nose. The bully  howled and stumbled back, surprised that the other male had actually hit him and that it hurt so much. "You bastard! You're going to pay for that!"

 "Fuck you," Will yelled, hitting him with an upper cut in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. As the jock gasped for air, Will quickly punched him in the kidney and his body spasmed for a second. Blinded with anger, Will hit him again and again screaming obscenities, until someone was pulling him away.

 "Will! Stop!" Jay yelled, pulling his brother away from the whimpering mess on the ground. 

Will panted heavily for a second, taking a moment to catch his breath, before noticing the large crowd that had gathered around them. 

"We gotta go before a teacher shows up," Jay urged, continuing to tug on his older brother's arm. Will allowed himself to be pulled away from glaring at the writhing mess on the ground. "That was so cool, I knew you could take him."

  Will groaned at his little brother. "Did you plan this?" He wouldn't put it past the little brat, Jay was surprisingly conniving when he wanted to be. 

 "Of course not," Jay said with a smirk. "We should probably skip the rest of the day. I doubt he'll rat on you but it might be better not to test it." 

 Will chose not to respond but allowed Jay to lead him off campus. He watched as Jay chatted on about how cool Will was, his smile bright as could be even though he was obviously going to have a nasty black eye tomorrow, if not within the next few hours. Jay bruised easily, their mother said it was because his skin was so pale. 

 They made their way to a nearby park to sit down for a few minutes, while Will examined Jay's head. "Why did he go after you?" Will finally asked. 

  "Well," Jay started sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I might have started it."

 "Seriously? C'mon man you're like half his size, why would you do that?" Will asked, feeling frustrated.

"Because he's an ass to you! He can't just treat you like that, someone had to stop him."

Jay yelled, quick to defend himself. He might have miscalculated his abilities but Will showed up and everything had been fine, better than fine. "You kicked his ass, Will. Why were you letting him mess with you if you didn't have too?"

 "Because it doesn't bother me and despite what dad says, fighting isn't the answer to everything." Will flopped onto his back on the grass once he was sure Jay was going to be fine. "Besides. I got lucky. I surprised him and knew enough anatomy to know where to hit him. Probably got lucky hitting the right spots too."

 Cocking his head to the side, Jay looked curiously at his brother. "What do you mean? What's anatomy got to do with punching a dude."

 "Hit a guy in the solar plexus you knock the breath out of them, hit them on the kidney it will kinda paralysis them with pain. At least that's what I got from the book." Will looked over at Jay staring at him in awe. "Don't give me that look, it's also really dangerous. You can seriously hurt someone and I shouldn't have done it. So don't go trying it on someone, you little maniac."

 Jay smiled innocently, "Who me? I would never."

 "You're a menace," Will groaned.

"I know but I'll always have you to make it all better," Jay replied with a cheeky grin.

  The door to the room he was in opened, distracting Will from the memory.  He looked up to see Natalie standing in the doorway, silently asking to join him. Sighing, he waved her in, patting the spot next to him.

"I'm going to be ok," Will informed her. "Just needed some time to get myself together." 

"I know." Natalie sat down next to him, reaching over to hold his hand tightly. "But if you need someone to lean on, I'm here. You might have to be strong for Jay but you don't have to be for me." 

 Will gave her a watery smile, clutching her hand tighter in his. "Thank you. I might have to take you up on that when Jay starts driving me up the wall about getting back to work."

They laughed with each other before falling into a comfortable silence. Natalie broke the quiet, "They wrapped everything up a few minutes ago, they should be bringing Jay out soon. All the scans are looking good so far."

 "Do you think I'll have to tell him what happened?" Will asked suddenly.

 Natalie faltered for a moment before giving Will a weak smile. "You might have too, or someone else could do it. Connor or I, maybe Voight?" 

 "Lord, no. Not Voight." Will shuddered. As much as Voight might care about his team, gently breaking bad news to someone was never going to be something Will could imagine him doing. Although, being a cop probably required it fairly often so he might actually be good at it. Still though, this was Will's job. "I should be the one to tell him."

 "Ok." Natalie stood up, offering a hand to help pull Will up. "Should probably get back there, wouldn't want to miss your spot next to his bed. I hear it's the most wanted seat in the hospital right now."

 Laughing, Will allowed Natalie to help him to his feet. "His team only dreams they could have that spot, I'm almost certain I nearly grew roots there earlier." 

 The two laughed together as they made their way back to Jay's room. Seeing his brother already back in the room, Will quickly made his way to the chair beside him and grabbed his hand again. He heard Natalie get a call for an incoming trauma, so he settled down as comfortably as possible to wait out the time until Jay woke up. A few visitors came by, mostly the intelligence unit, but other than that Will was left alone with his thoughts until he finally fell asleep. 

 A sharp painful yank came from Will's scalp causing him to swat the air. "Stop." The tugging continued, growing incessantly more annoying every time. Whining, Will swatted the air again in an attempt to make it stop.

 "Willll, oh Willll, wake up you weirdo." Jay's voice slurred. 

Will shot straight up at the sound of his brother's voice, quickly remembering where he was. "Jay! Oh, thank god."  

 Jay smiled dopely up at his brother. "They gave me the good drugs."

 Will had trouble keeping his laughter at bay watching Jay act so completely out of character. "I can tell, you seem like you've been awake for awhile."

 "Yup," Jay continued to smile brightly, even though he was obviously falling asleep already. "I told'em no, good drugs, but they said yes, good drugs. You think Voight is gonna be mad they gave me drugs." Jay started speaking in a whisper. "Drugs are bad."

Will couldn't keep the smile off his face, just so happy Jay seemed to be completely fine mentally. He bent his head giving the back of Jay's hand a kiss, ignoring the whines about cooties, thanking every deity out there that Jay was ok. 

 "Get some more sleep," Will ordered, noticing Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. 

 Jay nodded sleepily, "Everything's going to be all better?"

 "Yeah, everything's going to be all better," Will promised, brushing Jay's hair gently out of his face as the younger male drifted off to sleep. If there was one thing he'd learned thinking back on his past, it was that he may not always be there to prevent Jay from getting hurt, but he sure as hell would be there after. He would never abandon Jay when he needed Will, because after all, what else are big brothers for?

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Needles and Thread

Even I knew this situation was bad. Did this man follow us because of me? It had to be because why would anyone else be following us? I walked over to the two. “My, My, Machi,” said the clown. “You’re looking as wonderful as ever.” His sentence ended with a stomach churning wink. 

“Cut the shit,” said Machi. I’d never seen her so angry. She gave off the same aura that Illumi did when he was angry with her. “Why are you here?”

“Sweetie, it has nothing to do with you or the troupe,” said Hisoka as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m on another mission entirely.”’

“You two know each other?” I asked a little confused. If Illumi knew this man then why did Machi know him too? Machi was always the friend that dragged me into situations that I did not know but this was different. 

“Unfortunately,” growled Machi. “He’s a work acquaintance.”

“Why does everyone call me an acquaintance when you and I both know we are friends.” Every word that Hisoka spoke had a tone of sarcasm like he was toying with his prey. He closed his ripped newspaper as if nothing happened and stood up. “I’m guessing my appearance has made it so that your fun little hang out is over. I’ve been given instructions to get this little girl back to her apartment safe.”

Machi moved so that she was protecting me. Her hand posed across my body to guard me from any attacks. “You should have no business with her. Who every sent you can fuck right off, Hisoka.”

A crowd was starting to watch the scene. A few people were recording on any device that they had in their possession. A fight was surely to break out whether it be by annoyed people or these two. Hisoka? Why did that name sound so familiar.”

“You’re very protective of her,” smirked the clown. “It’s a little cute but I do need her to come with me.” He pointed at me and locked eyes. He had the same intense bloodlust as Illumi. It was no wonder that the two worked together. Was he an assassin too?

Hisoka took a step towards me. Machi held her ground. “Hisoka,” she said. “You and I both know we shouldn’t do this here. There’s too many people.”

“That’s not what you said back in September.” His eyes twinkled with excitement. I was guessing he was edging her on for a fight. 

“That was different,” Machi said with a low grumble, almost like a whisper. “You and I both know that had to do with the job. You didn’t even participate in it.”

“I had other arrangements.”

The book. That's where I remembered Hisoka’s name. Illumi had written Hisoka’s name down like mine. It was a contact, address, and a star. He was like me when it came to Illumi’s idea of friendship or something else entirely. “Uhm,” I said, finally breaking the two’s concentration. “I think we should go somewhere less public. I think the person that hired you won’t like the amount of cameras on me.”

Hisoka sighed with annoyance. It was as if I had taken away a precious toy from a child. Machi turned to look at me. “So he’s here for you? Y/N, what’s going on.”

“I feel like this is going to be a long day,” I sighed while starting to walk towards the exit of the mall. “We didn’t even get our food.” Machi and Hisoka did one more look at each other and decided to follow me. 

“What business do you have with Hisoka,” asked Machi as she caught up with me. The clown decided to stay far away. He was back to watching rather than talking. It was better for that.

“I can’t really explain,” I said. I knew the route back to my apartment like the back of my hand. Illumi told me to go there until he returned. It would be so much better to follow Illumi’s instructions than try to defy them. For all I knew, he could still be watching me from far away. 

“You better explain,” Machi said. Her anger heated up again. “Hisoka is not a good person. You don’t know him the way that I do. Whatever trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, I can make it disappear.”

I chuckled at her statement. I doubt she could get rid of my problems. She was a good friend but an assassin is a lot stranger than her. “I don’t know HIsoka,” I said. “I know friends of his. Not that I want to know them but I do. Think of him as my personal bodyguard.”

“He’s not a great bodyguard,” she says while we cross the street. “If you’d told me that you needed someone to watch you, I got you. I can hold my own.”

We walked a few more blocks. Hisoka was still following us. Due to his stature, many people were gauging him. I rolled my eyes. Illumi should have picked someone less obvious to watch me. 

“How do you know Hisoka?” I asked. 

“Long story,” Machi sighed. “He used to be part of the workforce under my boss, life got messy, and he quit. That’s the story that I know of. However, he lies whenever he speaks.”

It was strange for Machi to be talking about her job. That was the one rule in our friendship. We never discussed employment unless it got in the way of partying. Recently, it was starting to take forefront in her life. 

“Your boss hired someone that looks like that?” I ask while looking backwards. 

“My boss didn’t really hire him. That's not how job applications work there.” Machi and I stopped in front of my old apartment building. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I never thought that I would see this place again. It was an old, run-down brick building. All the buildings on this side of town looked the same; yet, this building was perfect. I’d bought it when the sun was going down. From my window, I had an awestruck view of the sunset. 

“Are you okay?” asked Machi. The response I wanted to give was no. I wasn’t okay. There was too much in my life that I could not control. I was in a situation that was too much for me. 

“Yeah,” I lied. “I hadn’t been home since I was on the trip.” We took the stairs up to my apartment. All ten of them. Hisoka didn’t follow this time. We must’ve lost him for now. I went into my apartment. It looked the exact same as when I left it to go to the party. Fresh tears hit my eyes. 

The only difference between before and now was the fact that most of my plants were extremely dead or dying. I couldn’t tell if I was also a plant. Machi, took a seat on my big couch. “I’m glad we lost him,” she said while turning on my T.V.

“I’ll go put my new outfits in my room,” I said. I couldn’t let her see me cry. It was all too much. I walked into my room. I felt like a ghost, floating and grasping at the life that I held before. Illumi played a sad trick on me by allowing me to go back home. I wiped away a few tears and went back to my friend. 

Machi had picked up a book that was on my counter. “When did you decide to look into Nen?” she asked. 

Illumi must’ve left the book here for me to practice while he was gone. “I-I picked it up for the meditation purposes,” I said quickly. Another lie. 

“I wouldn’t pick you for the fighting type,” she said while setting it down. “What have you done so far.” 

“All I know is that I’m a transmuter.” I picked up a bottle of my strongest wine and a few glasses from the kitchen. I needed to forget what has happened for the past few hours. 

She groaned. Why does everyone groan at my type? “I picked up Nen a while ago. There’s no point in learning it if you’re not going to fight. Just do the first bit and you’ll be good.”

I nod my head while taking a seat next to her. It was going to be a long night of drunk watching romantic comedies and horror. 

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Hisoka was watching inside the opposite apartment building. He ignored the dead corpse that was sitting next to him. Illumi didn’t have to pay him for a night watching two drunk girls having a good time. 

His phone rang. He picked it up without a thought. “Hello Illumi. Let me guess, you want a status on your lovely wife.” His voice held out the part about her being lovely. It was so much fun to torment him as there was very little that got under his skin. 

“Mission was a bust,” Illumi said. He could hear the tension in Illumi’s voice. “I'll be back tomorrow. Make sure she doesn’t leave. Hopefully you haven’t messed too much up.”

“I’ll still watch her. Machi and Y/N are still talking. It is mighty fun watching two hot drunk girls.” Hisoka could feel the bloodlust through the phone. It was so tasty that it was turning him on more than anything he could watch that night. 

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there soon.” Illumi’s voice sounded so delicious. It was pure sugar for his soul. Why keep friends around if you can’t push their buttons a time or two?

Hisoka went back to watching the girls. While nothing fun happened the rest of the night, it was all worth it for the small phone conversation and the almost fight with Machi. Once Chrollo is dead, he’d gladly fight her. It was only a matter of time. 

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