#I’m scared they’ll fall apart as soon as they hit the water

[honeydjarin]

Making Marillenknödel but I am sooooo bad at cooking. I hope they don’t fall apart 😔✌️

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[salemwritesxx]

𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓪.

𝕋 𝕒 𝕜 𝕒 𝕞 𝕚  𝕂 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕠 | ℍ 𝕒 𝕨 𝕜 𝕤

     ⇴ male reader [25, Vigilantes, quirkless]      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ request: Add on to the ask my bad! {Vigilante reader instead of hero-: When hawks found out he was expecting a baby he immediately kept it a secret from the reader and his friends. Since he doesn't want the hero commission/the public to catch wind of it cause it'll put both of their lives at risk also the public wouldn't be happy to know that their hero is in a relationship with someone who isn't a female- {{Angst!- The hero commission isn't supportive of hawks love life and unborn child_ if they found out about it, they'll probably blackmail the reader into doing their dirty work in exchange for hawks life.) But,, he soon tells the reader after being confronted about his change of behavior and appearance. About 3-4 months into the pregnancy. Time skip to where the kid is born- happy ending🤙🏾

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: mpreg, size / height difference, lil’ bit of angst with happy ending, discussion of abortion

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“No… No, no, no. Fuck!”, he cursed quietly.

Staring in disbelief at the little plastic strip, he put it besides two others. All three of them were positive. There was no doubt. Hawks was… pregnant.

Falling back onto the closed toilet seat, he sighed deeply as tears welled up in his eyes. Keigo wasn’t one to cry easily, but right now everything broke apart. How would everyone react? How would the HPSC react? How would you react? Right now, it seemed like his past was catching up to him, what if everything turned out the same? What if history repeated itself? Would his unborn child have to endure so much as well? Wouldn’t it be better, if it was never born-

“Keigo?”, your voice made him snap out of his dark thoughts.

“[Your.name]?”, hastily wiping his tears and pushing the pregnancy tests into the trash, he tried his best to sound calm.

“So you’re here! I was worried, Kei! You ignored my calls.”, when he came out, you stood there leaning against the wall, a worried expression on your face.

“Ah, no. I was just busy, you know? HPSC needed me again today.”, Kei tried his best to lie and put on his best fake smile.

But you still found it suspicious.

“Are you okay, Baby?”, taking a step towards him, your big hand cupped his cheek and your thumb gently wiped over his red, swollen undereye.

Had he been crying? Keigo? That’s rare.

“I am fine, [Your.name], I am fine. What about you though?”, he kept smiling when he pushed away your hand and walked past you into the kitchen.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while, too, ya know?”

“Ah…”, was the only sound you made as you shyly scratched your neck.

“That’s true. I’m sorry if I worried you, Kei. It’s just… I had to hide for a few days. The police were especially pesky and I couldn’t risk being caught.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”, he waved aside, “It’s not like I was worried. I know you can handle yourself just fine.”

This was the last thing you thought you would hear from him, leaving you confused and maybe a little… hurt? Sure, you chose to be a Vigilantes and go out at night to take care of some things your own, but to think your boyfriend wasn’t even worried about you while doing so? Maybe he really did despise what you did and he just never said so out loud. Until now, he had never commented on the illegal things you did, because ultimately, you never destroyed anything and just helped the less unfortunate people, but maybe…

After all, you worried about him constantly and he was a licensed pro-hero, still – many things could happen. Like that, you had a weird feeling that Hawks was not fine at all despite him claiming he was.

And while normally, your little reunion would have been much different, Kei just couldn’t think about anything at that point. All he was thinking about was the baby growing inside of him and what he should do about it…

-

As weeks went by, you noticed Hawks was changing. His excuse of being “bloated” was weird and got old quickly. Furthermore had your relationship taken a big hit. Few kisses and almost no touching. It almost seemed like he was uncomfortable constantly. You wondered what it all was about. Was it just over? Did your relationship just slip right through your fingers and you couldn’t do anything about it?

Usually, when you were both home, the apartment was filled with dumb laughter. It was so nice being around you, but all Keigo was in the past few weeks was anxious, quiet and easily agitated. His home was his safe place, it’s where he could forget everything and relax. Not think about his work, about the HPSC, but with your child growing consistently, it was harder and harder to relax. In just a few weeks, someone who had a keen eye could probably tell that he wasn’t “bloated” anymore. Instead, he didn’t know what to do anymore.

-

Then, one day, it must have been around the fourth month of his pregnancy, someone rang the doorbell in the middle of the night. First, Keigo wanted to ignore it, however, as they kept ringing, a thought popped into his head. He hadn’t seen you in about a week, which wasn’t unusual per se as you had to hide from time to time, but for you to not contact him at all was a little… odd. Were you in trouble? Did they find about your connection to him?

Hence, with his own feather in his hand, he was ready to defend himself as he made his way to the door. The rain was drumming against the windows mercilessly. Perfect distraction if someone wanted to raid him.

Though, when he swung open the door, ready to cut anyone and anything, it all came differently. A large body was leaning against the side of the door.

“[Your.name]!”, his golden eyes widened as your own [eye.color] ones looked quite lifeless.

Before Hawks could do anything, you couldn’t hold yourself upright anymore, thus falling through the opened door. Quickly reacting, he caught you, but being so much smaller than you, his feathers had to help lift you and get you inside his apartment. Only then, when he pulled his hands back did he realize what was on his hands and what he had thought to be water, was actually blood.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Rushing to your side, he literally ripped open your black coat and what was underneath, revealing a gaping wound on your side.

“Kei…”, you suddenly croaked, trying to reach out your hand, which he immediately grabbed and squeezed tightly.

“Don’t talk, [Your.name]! Everything will be alright, okay?!”, he visibly panicked.

He could hide his feelings very well. At least usually. But not this time. Maybe it was because he was hormonal due to the pregnancy, but just the thought of losing you made him cry. Hastily standing back up, he rushed into the bathroom to grab some towels and into the bedroom to get his phone.

“I… I didn’t know… where else to go… Kei…”, you coughed up a bit of blood, even though he had told you to not talk anymore.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, Baby.”, hugging you against his chest, all he could do was sob, “Everything will be alright, okay?!”

--

With a thumping heart, Hawks stood in front of the door for a few moments, before he knocked and entered eventually.

“Oh! Kei!”, you were just eating your pudding.

“[Your.name]!”, without holding back, he rushed towards your bed and jumped you.

However, hearing your painful whimper due to the ecstatic hug, he immediately pulled back with a small “I’m sorry.”

You, however, just shook your head and put the pudding and spoon away before gesturing him to come closer again.

“No, it’s okay, come here.”, you said with a soft smile as you pulled him in again.

Keigo just following your movement, scooching closer and in the end, hugging you again when you wrapped your own bandaged arms around him. You were so much more beat up than he initially thought…

“Thank you for saving me, Baby. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You did!”, sitting back up, his golden eyes were shimmering, “I was so worried about you.”

“Ehh? Didn’t you say you weren’t worried about me a few months ago?”, you just teased him, but Keigo was hormonal and highly stressed, so he reacted way too violently when tears welled up in his eyes.

“I know… But you know I like to talk big sometimes.”, he sniffled.

Quickly, you reached out to softly cup his face and wipe away the tears.

“I know. Hey… Kei. Tell me what’s going on, hm?”

“Huh?”, his golden eyes widened a bit as he stared at you.

“Baby… I know something’s going on. Things haven’t been normal lately and you act different, too. Tell me, if it’s something I did, I can change. I will do anything, but please be honest with me already… Last night, I thought, that’s it. I thought I’d die with things being so weird between us. It was horrible to think about it…”

Looking around for a moment, you were the only one in this room and even if it wasn’t the best location to finally say it out loud, Keigo just couldn’t continue to lie. He had wanted to get an abortion three times and canceled every time because he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Clearly, he wanted this baby. And he wanted you to know, it was just all so… complicated.

“Kei…”, you squeezed his hand one more time.

“Okay…”, sitting down on the bed properly, his other hand reached out as well, needing every bit of comfort and support he could get.

“I…”, biting his lip, he hesitated for a moment before looking up and straight into your eyes, “I am pregnant.”

Your eyes widened and for a second, you just stared at him in disbelief.

“Wait… you…? Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God… that explains a lot.”, you kind of laughed while shaking your head, but then you realized something.

“Wait… How long...?”

“17th week… Do you not understand, [Your.name]? I am pregnant.”

“Yes, I understand quite well and I think that’s amazing.”, you squeezed his hands again, a big smile on your lips.

“No, no! You don’t get it, [Your.name]!”, Hawks then suddenly stood up, “This is not amazing. Do you know what that means?”, he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Kei…”

“We are fucked, [Your.name]. Do you know what happens when the HPSC or the public finds out? Let alone who the father is? What if… What if our baby has to endure everything I had to endure? What if… I become like them? Or what if the HPSC finds out and takes them away from us?”, his voice broke a little at the end, just imagining it…

“Keigo, hey.”, you turned around and placed your feet onto the ground, sitting on the edge of the bed, hence why you could take his hands again and pull him closer.

“You will never become like them.”, you cupped his face, gently wiping the tears away from the corner of his eyes.

“And, Kei, you already made a decision, no? You want to keep the baby – our baby – right? It’s already the fourth month…”

“I do… But… I don’t know what I should do. I am not myself, [Your.name]. I keep crying over stupid things, I can't concentrate when I’m doing my work and I am always scared someone finds out.”, eventually, you pulled him onto your lap, though he was careful not to hurt your side.

“I know you’re scared, Baby. I am too, but we can do it. Together. I will be with you every step. I will protect you.”

“[Your.name]…”, wrapping his arms around you, he buried his face in the nook of your neck, his small frame shaking.

“It’s okay. I’m here, Kei. And I won’t go, ever. We will do it together. And I promise… I promise I will stop going out during the night.”, you whispered this promise into his ear, earning his small sniffles as he clung to you.

“Our baby doesn’t have to grow up in isolation because of my recklessness. I will become a good father. They will have a great life, okay, Kei? We can do it. Whatever the HPSC throws at us, we will deal with it, together. I promise they won’t grow up like you had to.”

The last thing surely broke him as Hawks barely whispered a “Mhm.” back. But at the same time he was smiling, so grateful he was finally able to let you know as the last few months were really straining.

---

“I wish you were never born! You are a nuisance! You keep me from being free!”

“Why did I not get an abortion? Why did I do this to myself? You good for nothing!”

“-go! -igo! Keigo!”, his golden eyes opened at last.

Breathing heavily and with beads of sweat running down his temple, Hawks stared at you for a moment. Still not really sure what just happened the realization sank in little by little. A dream.

“[Your.name]…”

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay now.”, you whispered and gently kissed him, before hugging him tightly.

Melting into your arms instantly, he buried his face at your chest as one hand reached down to his growing belly. He would probably pop soon.

“It’s weird… I haven’t thought or dreamt about them in over ten years and now… ever since I found out I’m pregnant… I …”, he mumbled more than anything, glad you were there to hold him.

“I know.”, was the only thing you whispered back while gently caressing his back.

When the HPSC trained him, he forgot, or rather suppressed most of his abusive and traumatic childhood. Maybe it was because he worried so much about your little baby that it all came crashing down on him eventually. But he would never become like them.

“Oh-“, both of you felt a little kick, making you giggle.

“Seems like our little baby girl wants to cheer you up as well.”, you whispered and nuzzled his head with your own while your hand reached out to his belly as well, softly caressing it.

“Seems like it.”, Keigo finally smiled a little.

“We will protect her.”, he quietly said after stealing a soft kiss from you.

“We will. And hey, the public took it really well when we outed us. The HPSC can’t do shit to hurt us anymore.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank God.”, cupping your cheek, Kei pulled you down again, before whispering against your lips, “Thank you.”

“Mhmh, for what?”, you chuckled and kissed him again, making him also giggle.

“Just… for everything. I love you, [Your.name].”

Smiling softly at him, you pecked his lips again and whispered an, “I love you too.”

For a few moments, it was quiet as you just cuddled and tried to calm down the excited little girl who was kicking and punching Hawks.

“Say… how do you feel, though? You haven’t been out in-“, but another kiss stopped him from continuing.

“I am perfectly fine, Shortcake. It… was hard, but it was the right decision. You are more important than anything or anyone else, and now with our little nugget growing… what we have is just so much more important to me than vigilante justice.”

The smile that spread across his face was truly warming your heart. It was the right decision and you wouldn’t regret it. You knew how hard his childhood was and you didn’t want that for your baby girl. She should be able to proudly say who her parents were and for that reason, you couldn’t continue your former lifestyle.

After sharing a few more kisses, Hawks then asked for cuddles, which you happily agreed to. Hence letting him shift positions and turn around, careful not to hit you with his wings, he hugged his pregnancy pillow. And then, you slipped your own arms around him, hugging him carefully and littering small kisses onto his neck.

He was so small in your arms, but that’s what he had loved from day one on. Keigo felt protected and loved when he was in your arms.

--

Calling out for you, Keigo carried the groceries into the kitchen, just to bite his lip instantly when he saw you laying on the sofa. Your little baby girl sprawled out on top of your broad chest, sleeping. Once Hawks came a little closer, he realized you were sleeping as well, thus with a soft smile he just kneeled down in front of the sofa.

“What would I do without you, [Your.name]? You two are seriously the light of my life.”, he thought with a big smile on his lips.

To think he was so incredibly sad when he found out, he couldn’t be more happier now. Everything turned out alright after all, just like you said. Leaning in, Hawks gently kissed his baby girl’s forehead before standing up again, leaving you and Tsubasa alone – at least that was his intention.

However, a soft tug on his clothes made him stop. And a glance back made him smile and turn once more, following your movement and laying down beside you, softly tucked under your arm, just where he belonged.

There were no words needed as you softly kissed him before your head fell back into the pillow. Your arm securely holding him and Tsubasa and just like that, you were able to hold the whole world in your arms.

And it certainly wasn’t any different for Keigo.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I think I repeat myself every time I write for him but… KEIGO IS SO TINY ovo probably cuz I absolutely adore the EndHawk ship and their size difference gives me life? so I cannot help but make it happen when I write x reader with kei. like I can just dream of being as tall and buff as endeavor lmao but yeah this was nice I love preggo hawks!

[warmblanketwhump]

request from @allthewhumpygoodness

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared

A stumbles through their doorway in a daze, wet coughs rattling their chest. The tickle in their throat had evolved to an awful, sandpaper feeling that afternoon, and their head was pounding with every step they took.

With trembling fingers, they pull out their phone and shoot a text to B: lol guess who’s sick again

B's reply pings back: let me guess - you? ;)

This was their third cold this fall - their immune system sucked. The first two times, they’d toughed it out alone - dragging themselves to the kitchen to microwave canned soup, choking down medicine, burying themselves under blankets. They’d nursed themselves back to health in a couple days, certain that no one had even seen that they’d been gone.

But B noticed their most recent bout, and brought them extra tissues, a box of ginger tea, and a sympathetic half-smile the day A came back to work. A had gratefully accepted the gift but waved off the concern, assuring them that while they appreciated the gesture, they really were fine.

Still….this time, they figured it couldn’t hurt to let someone know. Just in case they wanted to check in on them. Feel their forehead and brush away the damp hair. Bring them medicine and warm tea to soothe their raw throat. Tuck an extra blanket around them when the chills hit.

Stop being so needy, you wimp. No one has time to look after you.

A shiver shakes their body, and they cough again, rousing themselves out of their longing pity party. No one was coming to save them. And it was okay. Really. They had taken care of themselves before, and they could do it again. A hot shower and a day or two of rest, and they’d be good as new.

They shed their work clothes and step into the the shower, huddling as the frigid air of the bathroom melds with the warm steam. Even after 30 minutes in scalding water, the low-grade chill still won't leave their bones. So they dry off, wrap up in a blanket, and prepare to ride it out.

By that evening, it’s clear that this is not just a cold. They’re huddled under three blankets in bed, their aching head burning with fever, and every joint feels like it’s on fire. Their throat is hoarse from near-constant coughing deep within their chest. A licks their parched lips, weighing whether they have enough energy to drag themselves out from under the covers for a cup of water. And they're still freezing, so deeply cold that it feels like their entire body is made from ice.

Not even a the idea of a hot shower can persuade them to stand up, and A settles for curling into the fetal position, hugging themselves. Still, they shake, unable to get warm enough. They sniffle weakly, feeling stupid and helpless and so, so weak, barely able to lift their head. They need warmth, water, medicine, a hand to hold –

No, this wasn’t a cold at all. This was bad.

Suddenly, after hours of chills, a welcome rush of heat floods their body, and they kick the covers off the bed. The sweat soaks their sheets as they sprawl out, momentarily grateful for the feeling of any kind of warmth. The oppressive heat knocks them into a thin sleep, and they let their eyelids flutter shut.

They're in their room, lying on their bed and unable to move, tied down by some immovable force. In the corner of the room, a shadowed figure stands, holding a candle close to their chest. A tries to call out to them, but they stand in the shadows and refuse to come any closer. In the corner of the room, they touch the flame to a pile of papers, and A's room erupts into a blaze.

The room spins and bends, and soon A is hearing the walls whisper and laugh and scream and warp as they curl and melt to the ground. Panicked tears stream down their face, pooling on the pillow as twisted images hurtle through their delirious mind, smoke flooding their lungs, flames licking at the foot of their bed. They’re utterly terrified, locked in place by their aching body. It's coming closer now, and they're screaming with all they've got, but no sound comes out. The dark figure comes closer, closer, reaching a hand toward them, and they beg their body to move one last time –

“A. C'mon now, A. Wake up. It's just a dream. Please, wake up.”

A tenses as they blink awake, their heart racing as the dark something shakes their shoulder. Panic sets in, and they twist away, a surge of adrenaline causing them to shoot up and press against the wall behind their bed. "Get away! Go! It's burning!"

"A, it's me, B. It's just me." The soft lamplight smooths the foreboding edges of the figure, and A can see them bending closer, their quiet voice laced with urgency. A still can't speak, fear gripping their voice and holding it hostage, their heartbeat pounding in their chest.

“I called you a couple hours ago to see if you needed anything. But you didn’t answer, and I got worried.” B comes in and out of focus, and A can see the furrowed line between their eyebrows, the soft compassion in their eyes as they cautiously sit at the edge of the bed. B bites their lip as they gently lay their cool hand over A’s feverish forehead. "A, you’re burning up."

A’s breathing slows, and they wrap their arms back around themselves, leaning into B’s touch. B strokes their hair and keeps their hand pressed to A’s forehead. The sweetness of the gesture cracks something open in A, and a sob slips out.

“A,” B starts, hesitantly, “who’s looking after you?”

With that single question, all pride leaves A and they swallow hard as a rush of loneliness overwhelms them. “There’s…no one. You’re the only one.” The chills are back now, freezing the sweat on their skin and rattling their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. A whispers a soft, pitiful plea as they hold out a single trembling arm to B: “C-could you hand me a b-blanket? Please? I’m c-cold.”

A expects B to toss the blanket their way. Instead, B gently wraps it around their shoulders and gathers the shivering, sweat-soaked bundle of a human in their arms, enveloping them in the warmth that only another person can provide. It’s then that A truly lets themselves fall apart.

The next couple hours are a blur. When the fever spikes B is there, adding blankets and holding A in their arms to ease the shakes and warm their frozen bones. When A can hardly speak because their throat is shot from coughing, B miraculously procures honey lemon tea to soothe it and props them up to help them sip it. When the nightmares come back, B is there to shush their sobs and rub their back, encouraging them to breath through the hacking and coughing.

A still feels awful. But having B here...it's made it better. So much better. Every time they wake up, B is there. And they're scared of waking up the next morning with B gone and having to fend for themselves alone the next day. But exhaustion steals the worry away, and they fall asleep before they can timidly ask B to stay.

When they wake up, they're enveloped in warm, solid arms, and it takes a moment to register the unusual feeling. They nestle closer towards the warmth before it hits them that no, this is not how they usually wake up. Tilting their head up, they see B, blanket half over their shoulders, holding them, eyes heavy with sleep. They're still here?

B sees A staring down at them, and gives them a small smile.

"That was a rough one. Think you can handle a little soup this morning?"

A can’t answer the question, because they’re still thinking about a different one. “You stayed all night?”

B shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “‘Course I stayed. Wasn’t going to let you fight off those monsters all alone, was I?”

A tells themselves the sudden lump in their throat is just a byproduct of their flu, and clears their throat. “I…thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“A, trust me. I wanted to do it.” They brush back A’s damp hair and squeeze them, and A feels like they’ve melted into a puddle. This is all they’ve ever wanted when they were sick - no, it’s more than they could have asked for. They shift and snuggle closer, eyes drifting shut again, hand finding B’s fingers.

“5 more minutes,” they mumble contentedly. “Then let’s talk about soup.”

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

part: 2/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

/

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

Like that, we could be friends, you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

/

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”

His breath hits your cheek.  

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.

And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

/

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always so pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of your memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

“Come closer,” he means.

/

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

/

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

/

You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either.  You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

I need you to be smarter than him.

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.

/

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

/

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.

“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.

/

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.”  You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

/

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

What did you do last night?

Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

/

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.

For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

/

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.”

You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the Lyra constellation.”  His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.

You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?”

You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, show me the stars.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg  @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic  @itsaliceheree

[deadpresidents]

We Remember: When 9/11 Forged a Genuinely United States of America

Today, we remember.

We remember that the weather was perfect throughout nearly the entire country on that Tuesday morning. We remember where we were when we heard about the first plane hitting the tower. We remember what we thought as the new just began to trickle in. We remember our horror as we watched the second plane hit the South tower. We remember the evacuations -- people running out of our monuments of freedom and democracy, our centers of government and finance, and spilling out on to the streets of our nation’s capital. We remember the dust and debris chasing thousands of New Yorkers through the streets of our most iconic city. We remember the smoke rising from the Pentagon. We remember that impact site in Pennsylvania -- a smoldering hole in an empty field instead of the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol building because Americans decided to fight back. We remember watching the towers fall.

We remember the fear, the chaos, the sadness, and the feeling of not knowing what was happening or when it would end. We remember a feeling that Americans were not used to experiencing up to September 11, 2001: the helpless feeling of being attacked as went about our normal lives. We no longer remember what it felt like on September 10th.

Do you remember pointing fingers? Do remember placing blame? Do you remember partisanship? I remember patriotism. Not bumper sticker and window decals. Genuine patriotism. I remember flags and candles and donating water and giving blood and having a new appreciation for first responders. I remember that, for at least one week, we weren’t Democrats or Republicans. I remember that we were Americans. I remember that we cared a little bit more about each other for at least a couple of weeks.

When Democrat Lyndon Johnson was the Senate Majority Leader and Republican Dwight Eisenhower was President of the United States, LBJ -- one of the most intense, passionate, partisan political animals in our history -- never attacked President Eisenhower. It wasn’t because LBJ agreed with Eisenhower’s policies. It wasn’t because LBJ was scared. It was because, as LBJ explained in 1953 in a comment that has an unfortunately haunting connection to 9/11, “If you’re in an airplane, and you’re flying somewhere, you don’t run up to the cockpit and attack the pilot. Mr. Eisenhower is the only President we’ve got.”

The only President we’ve got.

We all want to head in the same direction. We all want to move forward. We all want to progress and be happy and healthy and safe. But now, more than ever, our country’s prosperity is crippled by divisive partisanship. As World War I and World War II approached and the world realized that we are clearly connected on a global level, the people who seemed the most out-of-touch -- the people who were wrong -- were the isolationists. In both of those great wars, the isolationists were proven wrong. Yet, in the span of our grandparents’ lives we have regressed to the point where most Americans have become individual isolationists -- not isolationism on a national level, but on a personal level. We’ve tried to disconnect from the people in our own country -- especially if they look, love, or think differently than us. Don’t you remember how powerful it felt after 9/11 to be united? Don’t you remember how we helped each other in so many different ways?

I guess I could be cynical. I guess I could remember the look on President George W. Bush’s face when his Chief of Staff, Andrew Card, whispered news of the attacks in the President’s ear as he sat in a Florida classroom. I guess I could remember The Pet Goat, and the fact that Bush didn’t immediately get up, sprint from the room, and change out of his Clark Kent clothes into the Superman suit. I guess I could remember Air Force One zig-zagging across the country, the only plane in the air besides military escorts and combat air patrols over our major cities. I guess I could remember the surveillance videos of the well-dressed hijackers walking through airport terminals that morning before they turned our planes into weapons. I guess I could remember that the passengers of Flight 93 didn’t actually get through the cockpit door and force the plane to crash into that Pennsylvania field. I guess I could remember our government’s alphabet agencies -- the FBI, CIA, NSA, and everyone else listening in on our world -- being unable to work together and stop the attacks from happening in the first place. I guess I could choose to remember those things, but that doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t make 9/11 anything but a success to those who tried to frighten and frustrate and intimidate us through terrorism.

This is what I choose to remember:

I remember that the passengers of Flight 93 tried to get into that cockpit. I remember that their plane didn’t make it to Washington, D.C., and even if they never actually breached the cockpit and physically forced the plane into that meadow in Pennsylvania themselves, they certainly fought back and forced the hijackers to abort the mission that they had planned. That plane didn’t crash into the White House or the Capitol, and that’s not because the hijackers got lost.

I remember driving to the wedding rehearsal for two of my best friends on the Friday after the attacks, feeling bad for them that they were getting married in the shadow of 9/11. I remember being amazed at thousands of people in the streets of Sacramento -- neighborhood after neighborhood, thousands of miles away from any of the attack sites -- holding a candlelight vigil. I remember that it was then, as I drove through the silence of these peaceful vigils, with flags and flames and tears all around me, that I thought, “We’re going to be okay.”

I remember George W. Bush -- a President I never voted for -- who, like all of us, was a bit unsteady with his words in the hours immediately following the attacks as he processed the magnitude of what we were living through. But I remember how he found his footing and found his voice quickly and began to speak for all of us. I remember him returning to Washington, D.C. that night, against the wishes of his government and his Secret Service protection. I remember how this President -- a President I didn’t agree with, a President I never cast a supportive ballot for or whose campaign I ever donated a cent to, a President whose beliefs were diametrically opposed to almost everything that I believe in -- went to Ground Zero and met with the families of those who were dead or missing, and gave them all the time they needed with him.

I remember how that President visited the rescue workers at Ground Zero. I remember, more than anything else, how President Bush climbed on to a pile of rubble from the fallen towers of the World Trade Center, grabbed a bullhorn and began to speak, but was interrupted by the workers yelling, “We can’t hear you!”

I remember that the President -- the only President we had at the time -- shouted to these exhausted, weary, grieving, heroic rescuers, “Well, I can hear you! And the people who knocked these buildings down are gonna hear from all of us soon!” I remember that it was genuine, that there was nothing manufactured about that moment, and that, despite all of his faults and deficiencies, George W. Bush said exactly what those people -- our people -- needed to hear. As the workers chanted, “USA! USA! USA!”, I remember thinking that I didn’t vote for him and I won’t vote for him in 2004, but at that moment he was my President and I was proud of him.

As we look back, we can’t help but think about everything else that has come out of 9/11 -- the interminable war in Afghanistan, the unjust and unnecessary war in Iraq, the humiliating and annoying experience that flying in an airplane became in this country -- but I think about that stuff pretty much every day, and I feel like this should always be a day where we think differently.

So, even if it’s just for this day, I’m going to think about those flags and candles and President Bush on top of the rubble of the World Trade Center with a bullhorn. I’m going to think about being an American -- just like I was in the weeks following 9/11 -- rather than who I voted for or what team I like or any of the millions of things that divide us and can get back to tearing us apart tomorrow like they did yesterday.

I’m going to remember thinking, “That’s my President,” as President Bush spoke to the rescue workers, just as I did a few weeks later when he went to Yankee Stadium for Game 3 of the World Series, strapped on a bulky bulletproof vest under his FDNY jacket, walked to the pitcher’s mound, and with millions of Americans watching on television, with thousands of rabid New Yorkers watching in the stands, and with Derek Jeter’s words of warning (”Don’t bounce it or they’ll boo you”) rattling around in his head, threw a perfect strike.

I’ll remember thinking, “That’s my President,” about a guy I never voted for and didn’t agree with, and I’ll hope that you do that when the guy you didn’t vote for and didn’t agree with says the right words, does the right things, and throws a strike when our nation needs it -- not because you’re a Democrat or a Republican, but because you’re an American and that’s the only President we’ve got. We don’t have to disagree about everything just because we don’t agree about most things, and we don’t have to like everything about one another to understand that, sometimes, we need each other.

What do you remember?

[wonder-womans-ex]

One Word Answer

Luke won’t even try to deny it—he’s fighting back tears as he pushes the screen door open. The house is so silent he thinks it might be empty, and, quite honestly, that’s probably for the best. If he tries to talk to anyone right now, he actually is going to start crying. 

All he wants is to curl up on the Lupins’ sofa and think about whatever the fuck it was he did wrong; whatever he did to deserve this. 

But he has no such luck. 

The instant he enters the living room, he’s met by an onslaught of noise. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the smiling faces of his friends—James, Remus, Sirius, Logan, Leo, Finn; he even thinks he might see Lily in the corner—are there to greet him. Remus approaches first, and presses a glass of champagne into his hands. 

He passes it right back, and the noise stills, and Remus’s face falls slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Obviously something’s wrong.” 

Luke sighs. “Just forget it.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Forget this.” He gestures around them, at the people, the decorations, the alcohol. “There’s no point.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Isn’t Remus supposed to be the smart one? Is he really going to make Luke say it? “He said no, Remus.”

If the room was quiet before, now it’s unbelievably so; painfully so. “He said no,” he says again, this time more to himself. 

He barely feels himself slump against the doorframe, sliding down to the floor with a slight thump. His head falls to the side, and he squeezes his eyes closed in one final attempt to stop the tears. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though it feels, in a way, like he’s dreaming; he hears Remus’s voice, determined and far, far too loud: “Okay, everyone out. He needs… he needs.”

There follows the all-encompassing silence of a party ended too soon. Footsteps pass by him, going out into the hall, but Luke doesn’t have the energy to try to put gaits to faces and faces to names. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything but sit there and feel the uncomfortable warmth of his tears spill from his eyes and trail down his cheeks. 

“I’ll go,” he hears Sirius say, once there’s no one left but the three of them, “and talk to…” he trails off, perhaps not saying the name for fear of it killing Luke just a little more inside, but it does nothing to help. All he can think of is hazel eyes and blond curls and gold, gold, gold. 

And then it’s just them there: Luke, who needs to be comforted, and Remus, who hasn’t had to comfort him in so long that he’s forgotten how to—or maybe he never knew at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. 

“Don’t be.”

For the first time since it happened, Luke opens his fist. He opens his eyes, too, and he stares at the glint of metal. He bought the ring so long ago; he spent hours deliberating, trying to find the perfect one, and now it seems it doesn’t matter after all. 

“He said no,” he whispers again, and this time it feels, even to him, like he’s just trying to convince himself of that. He looks up, meeting Remus’s gaze, and he brings his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball, into a defense mechanism, and buries his face in his hands. “I love him.”

“I know.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t know!” This—this anger isn’t like him. Or, well, it is like him—it’s how he was before the treasure, when they were just Gods and Hollows. It’s how he was before Saint. 

He feels one of Remus’s hands grasp his, and he thinks of all the times they tried so hard to be in love. For years, they thought that it had to be each other; that they would never have anyone else. But it never worked out, because Remus needed Sirius—brave, easy Sirius—and Luke needed Saint. 

Saint who was harsh like ice and warm like sunlight. Saint who loved like he fought. 

Saint who said no. 

Gently, Remus pries the ring out of his hand. He hears the click as it’s set down on the floor beside them, and he lets himself be enveloped in the arms of the boy who was his only friend in the world for so very long. 

*

The apartment is empty when Luke gets back. The lights are off; the door is locked; Saint’s wallet is still on the counter here he left it. He wonders where Saint is. He wonders if Saint is going to come back. 

He wonders whether he wants him to. 

Well, that’s not quite right. Of course he wants Saint to come back. What he’s not so sure about is whether he wants Saint to acknowledge any of this. 

He’s been hurt in a way he didn’t know he could be hurt. He has his defenses—he always has—and he took them down for the boy who was somehow both wild dreams and harsh reality all at once. For the first time in his life, he saw he was falling in love, and he let himself. He had no idea that that love would ever—could ever—destroy him in the way it is now. 

Saint loves him. Luke knows this. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have pretended to, because while Saint is a good liar, he is not a happy one. He’s lived far too much of his life surrounded by half-truths, and he would never willingly do something that would hurt himself. 

Hurting other people, yes. But Saint is not self-destructive. He’s just reckless. 

Luke sets his keys down on the coffee table. He stares at the sofa—the sofa he and Saint bought together—and he clenches his jaw. His fist flies, practically of its own accord, into one of the couch cushions, and he feels his anger hit boiling point. 

Just as quickly, it cools. 

He’s not so much mad at Saint as he is mad at himself for wanting to be mad at Saint. He’s always known himself to be a paradox, and now, here, in the semi-darkness of the place he calls home, he finally understands that now is no exception. 

When he enters the bedroom, he reaches out blindly with one hand for the light switch. To an outsider, it would seem like nothing has changed at all, but in reality, Luke’s entire world has been flipped on its head. It feels like it, anyway. 

He goes through the motions. He brushes his teeth; he changes into his pajamas; but all the while he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

Climbing into bed and smelling the briny tang of salt water that Saint always carries with him is what finally tips him off the edge. He becomes lost in the memory of this afternoon, and it’s like Crucio all over again; he’s drowning in the past and the present and the future—

“Do you recognize this place?” Luke asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Of course.” 

The sun shines off Saint’s hair, bright and beautiful, and Luke tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It’s natural—they’ve said it a hundred thousand times by now, and, as Luke squeezes the ring he’s holding, he hopes beyond hope they’ll be able to say it a hundred thousand more. 

“Saint?” 

When Saint turns around, his eyes go wide. Luke tries to keep his balance—his jeans are already damp at the knee from the still-dewy grass, and the faint warmth of the noonday sun does nothing to calm his nerves. His breath shakes; he almost drops the ring as he holds it out. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to smile. Inhale, exhale, he tells himself, and starts over again. 

“I think you know why I’ve brought you here, but I’m going to say it anyway. 

“This place, right here, is where we were when I finally fell in love with you. Sure, I’d been falling for a long time, but it was here that I hit rock bottom and realized I wanted to stay there.” 

Saint must know where this is going. There’s no way he doesn’t. But his expression is unreadable, and Luke has to force himself to look away in order to keep going. 

“I love you, Saint. I have for so long it scares me to think about and I will for the rest of time. You mean the world to me—I hope you know that. You are, without a doubt, my everything, and I want more than anything for you to remain my everything forever. 

“You’ve spent years without a last name that truly feels like home. What I’m offering now, what I’m laying my heart bear in the hopes of, is that you can take mine. Will you—” he swallows, finally focusing his gaze; finally meeting Saint’s eyes, “—will you marry me?”

It’s like time has forgotten where it was going before—or perhaps even that it was ever going anywhere at all. Luke waits, biting his lip and trying not to smile, for an answer.

Saint turns his head away; he’s looking at something in the distance. His fingers are twitching ever so slightly at his side, and Luke’s heart falters. 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Saint, still looking away, and Luke doesn’t need to hear any more. It’s as if someone has taken an axe to the very fibre of his being; his dreams of the future are being chipped away at in front of his very eyes. 

Luke clears his throat. “Right.” He stands up, and his leg hurts like a bitch from kneeling, but he won’t say anything. The last thing he can do right now is show weakness. The last thing he can do is prove to Saint that he, Luke Deveaux, isn’t worth it. 

“Wait,” Saint calls after him when he turns to go, but Luke isn’t listening. Of course Saint has his excuses, and, knowing Saint, they’re probably damn good ones, too, but he doesn’t want to hear them. Not now, when the chasm down the centre of his heart is still fresh and bleeding. Not now, when it hurts to take even a single step away from the man he loves, but he has to anyway. 

Maybe not ever. 

Luke isn’t asleep. He’s caught in the half-place—the place you go when you’re not there, not yet, but you aren’t quite here, either. So he feels the mattress dip beside him, and he feels the breath on the back of his neck, and he feels the hand curl protectively over his waist. He hears Saint say “I’m sorry,” in that quiet, desperately painful voice he has. 

“You’re not,” he says into the silence, and he waits. 

“I am,” Saint tells him. “I really am. I’m sorry I can’t want that. I’m sorry I can’t be that. I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

The last part is raw and full of emotion, and it would kill Luke completely if he was to say anything but “You are enough.”

“Not for you, I’m not.”

He still doesn’t turn over to face Saint—he’s not ready for that—but he lets himself relax slightly into his arms. “You are. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. Sometimes—sometimes I think you might be a little too much, actually.”

Saint’s other hand slots quietly over his. It makes his breath catch in his throat, but he can feel, in the thrum, the ever-constant ebb and flow of Saint’s very being, that it makes all of this so much easier. 

“What I wanted to say,” Saint starts—tentatively, as if he’s scared that at any moment Luke is going to decide he doesn’t want to hear it—“earlier today, is that I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve never wanted a wedding and a certificate and a house and a family and honey, I’m home. That’s… that’s not for me. 

“The way I see it, marriage is an anchor. It’s there to make sure you never stray. It’s a choice you make once, and it’s a choice that stays with you forever.”

Exactly, Luke thinks, but he says nothing. 

“What I want—what I’ve always wanted, I just never thought it was within any realm of possibility until I fell in love with you—is a hundred choices. I want freedom in the fact that there isn’t really freedom at all. I want two boats, floating freely, that always find their way back to each other. I want to wake up next to you every morning knowing that I could leave if I wanted to but make the choice not to. 

“And I know that’s not what you want. But I can’t make myself play happy families because the truth of it is that that isn’t me. I’m a wanderer. I want a reason to stay in one place, not a rule to keep me there. I’m sorry.” 

He can feel Saint’s mouth moving against the place where his spine meets the cords of his neck. He can feel Saint’s tears, but it’s okay, because he’s crying, too. 

“No.” His voice is far too loud for the weighted silence of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to make you choose between yourself and me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I don’t want marriage; I want you. I want you in your entirety; I want you in your all-encompassing happiness. That’s all I want. I want what you can give me—nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, Luke turns over onto his back. Saint immediately tucks his face into the space between Luke’s shoulder and neck, and this, this feels right. 

“I love you,” Saint whispers. “I’ll always love you.”

“And I you.”

Saint laughs, a quiet noise that sounds like it’s half sob, as well. “And I tried to want that. I really did. At the wedding, I looked at you in that suit and I tried so hard to imagine if that was, well, us.”

“But you couldn’t.” As he says it, Luke presses a kiss to the crown of Saint’s head—the curls tickle his nose, and he closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself just be. 

“I couldn’t. And I thought that was okay, because I never even considered that you could love me enough to… to want that with me.”

Luke pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow and creating enough space between them for him to look Saint in the eyes. They haven’t properly looked at each other since this afternoon, but that particular shade of hazel is all Luke has been able to think about. “It has nothing to do with how much I want you,” he says, and then he realizes how that sounds. “Or, rather, it is no indicator of how much I want you. It’s like you said—marriage is like an anchor. Sure, I haven’t always wanted that anchor, but that doesn’t change the fact that, anchor or no, I’ve always known, somewhere, that I’ll never let us drift apart.”

There are a few moments where they simply stare at each other. Luke runs his tongue along the edges of his teeth, pressing it into the sharpness of his canines just to feel something. Then Saint smiles that half-smile of his—the one he only ever wears when he and Luke are alone—and reaches up to cup Luke’s cheek in his palm. 

“Fucking hell, Tweedle,” he says, in a soft, gentle voice that doesn’t at all match the words coming out of his mouth, “that might be the sappiest shit I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Luke rolls his eyes and grins. He leans down, brushing his mouth against Saint’s. Their lips are barely touching, but, even so, Luke feels himself smile into the kiss. He’s at home here. 

“You know,” Saint says later, when they’re simply lying in the dark, Luke’s head resting on Saint’s chest and one of Saint’s fingers tracing circles in Luke’s back, “there is one downside to the whole ‘not getting married’ plan.”

Luke wonders if he’s walking into a trap. “What’s that?”

“The last name thing.” 

“Mm hmm.” Luke yawns. “Saint Deveaux does have a nice ring to it.”

“That it does.”

There’s another minute or two of comfortable silence, before Luke speaks up again. “And the second thing?”

“The second—oh.” Saint waits half a second before, “No divorce jokes.”

Luke laughs despite himself, relishing in the way Saint’s chest moves as he laughs, too. Saint, he knows now, is his choice. Saint is everything. Saint is home.

Saint is forever. 

characters are by the incredible @lumosinlove

thanks to @im-oknutzy-trash for betaing

[bonny-kookoo]

Soulmates (JJK x Reader) ☁️🔞💜

✨ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

✨ Genre: Angst, Breakup AU, Idol AU, Smut, fluff/romance

✨ Warnings: Breakup, crying kookie because that needs to be a warning, arguing, shouting, some mean things being said, safe sex because we wrap it up even if we’re sad friends, vanilla sex, it’s just basic lovemaking y’all what do you think this is, hopeless romantic Jungkook, jk is super bad expressing his feelings and kinda petty

✨ Summary: Jungkook always told you that you were his soulmate. But sometimes, soulmates aren’t meant to be, are they?

Jungkook had a nasty habit.

And it was that every time he thought he was right, he became selfish. And no, not in any cute kind of way. He would start to chase his own tail in a sense; completely blocking out any kind of other opinion than his on a topic. It lead to the shouting match you both had now; his voice considerably louder than usual, a whine to his tone that in no way was intended to be charming. No, the way he drawled out certain syllables was to only further make sure you knew how upset he was.

"What do you want me to do!" He yelled, looking at you with a gaze that you knew could easily guilt-trip you into giving in. But this time he needed to be an adult, you needed him to understand your side of the situation as well. "I can't just make everything disappear and make everyone forget my face." His eyes were still hard. "They'll figure it out anyways, I don't get why we have to hide it anyways!" He groans out, as you sigh, a headache incoming.

"Because it would be the end, Jungkook." You argue back, voice however in no way as loud and stern as his was. "I'm not telling you that you have to be an actor onstage, but I'm asking you to leave our problems and arguments Off-Stage Jungkook. Everyone on twitter got concerned why you were so serious during your stage!" You said. Because this had been the main issue at hand. He have had a concert just a few hours ago, but you weren't able to attend it. The reason had been that some staff members forgot to pick you up from the airport due to some problems that had come up last minute. You had been understanding, simply ending up taking a cab to yours and his shared apartment, watching his performance via livestream instead. He'd sounded upset over the phone, frustrated even, yet you had tried to reassure him that it wouldn't be his last- you would always be there the next. What did upset you however, was how he had been openly upset onstage about it. He seemed agitated, serious, and not his usual self, which had lead to not only his bandmates scolding him, but also you. You had simply asked him to remember that fans couldn't know what happened away from the cameras. They didn't know, and they had no hand in it either- he was being unfair by punishing them with his behavior. But his habit of growing hostile when critic got too personal blasted everything out of proportion, now ending in the situation you had in his kitchen.

"Well, I'm not gonna go up there and be all happy while I don't even know if you're safe!" He barks back. "You're just as important to me as the band, as my job, can't you appreciate that?" He whines, and your eyes become even more upset.

"Jungkook, I do appreciate it, but it's also what I'm scared of." You say, and he furrows his brows. "You can't do this Jungkook, please. I told you I can wait, I'll wait forever, but this is a limited time. I want you to enjoy it fully, without responsibilities, because they'll be there soon enough. I want you to be with your band 100%." You say, and he suddenly grows quiet.

"You sound like you're breaking up with me right now." He wonders across from you, his voice now eerily low and considerably less loud and angry. You can't look at him.

"I don't know if I should." You answer him, and his eyes suddenly widen a bit, glistening as the tip of his nose turns red. He's close to crying, you know it. But you have to do what's best.

"Don't." He says, hands balling into fists before he nervously wipes them down his sweatpants, suddenly on edge. He's always like this whenever he's unsure of what he's supposed to do. It's quite endearing, if it wasn't because of such a matter. "You- We'll find a solution, I shouldn't have, you know, gotten so upset-" He starts, but you shake your head.

"Please, let's just.. not." You mumble, and you still can't look up at him. "I'll uhm.. I'll sleep on the couch, okay? I try and be gone tomorrow morning." You say, and only now do you move, trying to get out of the kitchen, as he suddenly embraces you from behind, his large body shaking as he struggles to form a coherent sentence through his tears.

"No no I didn't mean it-" He apologizes, even though there is nothing there to say sorry for. "I'll be better, I'm sorry, I won't do it again-" He chokes out, but you hesitantly grab his hands, trying to unravel his arms around you. He holds on tight, like a toddler not wanting his mother to go and leave him alone. It somehow feels just as heartbreaking to you. "Don't go, I'm not letting you, please stay.." He begs, and it reminds you of a tamper tantrum your friends kid held in a store a few weeks back.

"Jungkook please, don't.. don't make it so hard." You say, trying to be brave but ultimately failing as you have to swallow hard to keep your own feelings locked. At least until you're alone. You finally manage to get out of his hold, as he stands before you, eyes red and cheeks wet with his tears as his bottom lip trembles visibly.

"Are- you serious?" He asks, voice higher in pitch as he struggles to keep it steady. "You'll leave me alone like that?" He almost accusingly says, and you sniffle.

"You're not alone Jungkook, you're never alone. You shouldn't even be here, you should be sleeping at the dorms like you used to. I'm just pulling you away from the band, and its not fair! I have no rights to do it, I'm being selfish, I'm now interfering with your work as well, Jungkook, don't tell me you're this blind." You say, as he looks at the floor, caught red handed.

Jungkook dries his nose on his sweater sleeve as he swallows. "I'll.. go and sleep at the dorms then. You uhm.. can take the bed." He mumbles, as you nod, even though you probably won't be able to. "Are you.. will you.." He starts, and you nod with a sad smile.

"My promise still stands." You say. "If you'll still want me then, I'll wait until this dream is over." You say. He nods, biting his lip as he grows unsure again. He doesn't know what to do, if he should hug you, or not, kiss you, or not, hell he doesn't even know if he can look at you now. So he simply nods again, shuffling away as you stay put, listening to him putting his shoes on, as the door shuts after he leaves.

Only then does it hit you.

And only then, do you let yourself cry, sob as you scream and fall to the ground, letting it out.

As he sits in the living room he once felt so familiar in, he notices how alienated he feels. It's awkward as Jimin and Suga look at him, unsure what they should say. Only now does Namjoon come into the room, surprised to see the youngest. "What's going on?" He asks, and Taehyung gives a bottle of water to Jungkook, as the youngest mumbles his answer.

"We broke up." He says, and everyone seems to grow sad at it. They really liked you, even though everyone had been wary at first; you had proven to them however, that you were genuinely in love with Jeon Jungkook, and not only the Jungkook of BTS that made headlines if he only did as much as sneeze in public. His money didn't matter to you and neither did his fame- yet they had all feared this outcome. "She said uhm.. she doesn't want to interfere with my work so.."

Suga nods at this, and sighs. "Mature choice." He says. "Shows she cares about you." He concludes, as Jimin seems to want to argue. Jungkook shrugs. "But I think a lot of it came from you." He speaks, as he looks at the youngest, who furrows his brows. "Think about it. It was your choice to spend your time at your private apartment rather than here so you could be with her. You get upset when she doesn't text you, and fuss over her if she gets hurt." He explains, as Jungkook suddenly feels as if he's being scolded again, huffing as he slids into the couch with frustration. "But that's who you are; you invest yourself 100% if you find something that makes you happy." Yoongi puts his phone away.

"That's totally helping, hyung." He grumbles out, as Jimin throws one leg over the other.

"I think what he's trying to say is that you have to find a good balance." Hoseok says as he sits down as well. "You always give it your all, and thats great, but it wont work long-term. Split your time equally, make space for a piece of everything instead of trying to carry it all at once." Jungkook sighs, as he feels his eyes sting again.

"Well, doesn't matter anyways." He huffs out, as his voice chokes up again. "Guess at least PD-Nim will be happy." He grits out before he begins to cry again, everyone at loss on how to comfort the youngest of the group.

Jimin chimed in at that, gently scolding the youngest. "Now thats unfair." He says. "He's not gonna be happy over you being upset Jungkookie." He scolds, and Jungkook looks down at his hands in his lap.

He knows hes being petty and childish right now. He knows things like these happen. He knows that you love him, and that you're probably just as upset as he was.

But he was heartbroken as well.

And he hates it.

It takes him a while to figure it out.

It takes him to break down during a concert in front of thousands as he realizes its the first ever since your breakup; as he remembers that no, this time he won't go home to his own apartment but he'll share a room again. He won't be rubbing his sweaty hair teasingly on your neck to hear you laugh and yell at him to stop. He won't be getting to hold you through the night after he'd made sure you both felt close and satisfied before he'd fall asleep with you.

It takes for him to cover a heartfelt song with your name on the tip of his tongue, making fans fawn over the emotional tune in his voice as he let's go of his pent up feelings through the only thing he knows he's good at; music.

But he eventually figures it out.

BTS is granted a small hiatus, a moment to breathe, as he immediately knows what he wants to do with the time he'd been gifted. He visits his parents, tells them about you and his plans, and feels even more motivated as he finally returns home into his private apartment, previously owned by him and you. He wonders how many nights you'd fallen asleep in front of the TV waiting for his live concerts to be shown. He sits down, grabbing his phone, as he calls your number, secretly wondering if you've changed it.

You didn't.

Nothing is being said at first, until he speaks. "Hey."

"Hey." You answer, unsure.

"I've made time now." He says, and you sigh on the other side of the line, saying his name as you're ready to argue, before he stops you. "No no no not like that, aish.." He runs a hand over his face, hair longer now as he thinks about what to say next. "Long term. I.. Yoongi-hyung said that I'm merely growing up, and that that includes changing, but-" He starts, and his voice is a bit raspy from slight overuse from recording another cover earlier that day. "I wanna grow up with you, not away from you. I wanna change, but I want to change right next to you I-" He stutters a bit as he grows nervous. "I don't want to wait until this dream ends Y/N.." He says, throat closing up as he thinks about how you maybe changed your mind. He can't give up like this, though. "I want to live this dream with you." He finishes, and its quiet for a moment. Until he hears you sniffling.

"You're stupid." You say, and start to laugh as he does too.

"Where are you right now?" He asks, and you sniffle again before you can answer.

"Crying at Hangang bridge, what about you?" You chuckle, and he smiles at no one in particular.

"Can you.. Can I pick you up?" He wonders, picking at the ends of his sweatpants' strings. You agree, and he gets up immediately, grabbing his jacket, a mask, and his cap as a disguise.

The door hits the wall with a loud noise, making Jungkook hiss a bit as he's a bit startled by the noise, before he simply resumes in kissing you feverishly, not caring much about any damage might done as he closes it shut behind him. He slips out of his shoes and picks you up with ease after you've discarded yours as well, stumbling a bit with you in his arms as he laughs on the way into his bedroom, your arms safely around his neck in fear he could drop you.

He'd never.

He makes sure your back meets the mattress softly as you both shuffle out of your jackets, his cap meeting the floor somewhere as he unhooks the mask from behind his ears, the fabric having been moved to rest under his chin anyways, simply to be able to kiss you silly. He shrugs off his coat as his hands help you to throw your shirt over your head, his body crawling over yours as his hands move over your skin. He's in heaven, absolutely insane for your touch as your cold hands slip under his oversized carhartt shirt. He wonders for a moment how he could ever make it work without you, without your presence, your touch, your love and care for him. He's happy he doesn't have to, glad he was able to pull you back towards him, as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck, carefully cupping your breasts until he unhooks your bra, helping you discard the piece of underwear before he places a few kisses on their bare skin as well, relishing in the feeling of them, warm and soft in his palms.

"I love you so much." He mumbles onto your skin as if to tattoo the words underneath it, to keep them safe inside your flesh never to be forgotten by you.

"I love you more." You humm against his lips as his meet yours, his grin making his eyes crinkle at the sides as he helps you get him and you out of the rest of your clothes. He moves away for a moment to get a condom, before he jumps back on the bed in a manner that's almost too childish considering what you're about to do, but somehow it's so undeniably Jungkook that you simply laugh, closing your eyes as your head falls into the wrinkled bedsheets below.

"Impossible." He answers a little late, as he slips on the safety over his length, kissing you again as he carefully slips inside you, breathing out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your warmth around him. "You feel like home." He humms out, a rough grunt escaping him as he begins to move his hips, years of dancing experience making it easy for him to find a rhythm perfect for you both. You still smile.

"You're so cheesy." You huff out, as you look at him, his hair falling downwards as your hand instinctively reaches for the back of his head, pulling him onto your lips again, hooked on his taste as he needily bites your lower lip, sucessfully opening your lips to grant him access. A younger, more innocent version of him would've thought of this sloppy and intimate way of kissing as weird and maybe even gross, but his current version couldn't care less. He'd do anything to feel close to you.

So he doesn't care that your juices make your bodies slippery, that his sweat starts to collect on his temples, or that the sheets underneath you two would probably have to be washed. It doesn't matter, because he's with you, he's holding you' he's inside you- nothing could make him stop now.

When he reaches his climax, spiling into the condom inside you, he reaches between you two, inked hand finding your most sensitive spot as he eagerly moves his fingers over it, making your whine and whimper as you come undone as well, clenching around his sensitive cock as he breathes heavily, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you both take a moment to collect yourselves.

He laughs after a moment, slipping out of you with a slight hiss at the sensitivity, before he heavily rolls onto his side, taking a deep breath before he groggily heaves himself into a sitting position, discarding the condom before he flicks on the bathroom light with a click, the sound of gushing water soon filling the apartment as he filled the bathtub with warm water, carefully opening a drawer where some of the bathsalts and soaps were kept, before he puts some in, gentle smell meeting his nose as he smiles softly. He tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he steps back into the bedroom, corners of his mouth still turned upwards as he spots you still laid out on his bed. "Come on, let's take a bath, yeah?" He humms, as you smile sleepily, letting him carry you into the bathroom where he sits you down in the tub, returning into the room after he'd put the sheets into the hamper in the bathroom, and put new ones onto the bed, ready for when you both would return.

He steps into the tub, sitting behind you as he leans back against the cold tiles, you in his arms as he sighs. "I mean it, you know." He says as takes the loofah from the side, gently moving it over your arms as he carefully cleans your skin. "I'll balance it out better. I promise-" He says, as he moves your hair away from your neck over your shoulder, kissing the top of your other. "I'll be better. I promise." He concludes, before you move, turning around as you return his soft gesture, moving the soapy sponge over his skin as well as he watches you with fond eyes.

"Okay." You say, and almost laugh as his eyes widen, brows shooting up into his hair as he grins, moving forwards to hug you tight, uncaring for a moment that the water slightly spills off the sides, making him look at it in surprise for a second, before you both laugh as he lathers your face in sloppy kisses.

"Thank you!" He repeats. "Thank you- thank you- You won't regret it, I'll be good, promise!" He says, and you smile at him.

You know he's gonna keep his promise.

You're happily chewing on your snack Jungkook had bought you earlier, as your head rests on the crook of his neck, your legs thrown over his lap as you sit on his thigh, his hands clicking the mouse and typing on the keyboard as he adjusts some stuff. He'd invited you to spend some time with him at the studio, only if you wanted to of course, and he did tell you it would probably be boring. You disagreed, even now- sure, you weren't doing anything, but it was interesting to see him produce songs. He clicks to save his project, before he shuts down his computer, leaning back in his chair as he groans, head falling backwards. "Done?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Not quite, but I shouldn't be working anyways." He says, as he pulls his phone out of his jean pocket, checking something before he playfully slaps the side of your bottom. "Alright, up up, we have a camper van to pick up and some bags to carry love." He exclaims, and you smile. He'd decided after a bit of brainstorming to take you on a small trip to jeju Island, having managed to get in contact with some people to be granted access to a more private campsite, so he could spend his small trip as safe as possible with you. He'd post any picture of the scenery and him later, after the trip- he knew how easily his fans could pin point where he was from past experience.

As he locks the door of his studio, he walks down the hallway with your hand in his, mindlessly, as if it's second nature for him to hold it anywhere he goes with you. Its charming, how he doesn't even notice he's doing it anymore.

He even opens the car door for you while he talks, again not noticing it at all as he simply continues what he's doing, driving you both to your now officially shared apartment. He'd had a talk with his bandmates about him and the dorm life- and they had all agreed that it was okay if he wanted to move in with you. As long as he'd spend enough time with them to not end up growing apart again, they were fine with it. After all, he was growing up, and that also meant for him to grow more independent.

He put the bags into the back of his car, a rented Palisade, as he drove you both to the airport, the plane you both board taking you to Jeju in a mere hour. A cab takes you two to the rental service where the campervan was already waiting for you two. He smiles as he moves everything into the van, thanking the guy providing some explanations on how things work, before he sits in the drivers' seat, you climbing in beside him on the passenger seat. He grins for a moment before he turns on the engine, driving off as you smile as well.

You don't know how the future is gonna go for the two of you. You're sure this wasn't the last hurdle you would be facing, but you're more sure than ever that you would manage it somehow. You'll make it work. You know that.

Because at the end of the day, you're still his soulmate. And they'll always find a way to be together.

Thank you for reading everyone, and please stay safe and healthy!

Love, Bonny. (C)2020 Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not repost, translate, or edit my content. Thank you very much.

[valkyrieofsmut]

How do the boys take the ‘I think I’m pregnant’ scare? And how do they react and feel if it’s true versus just that-a scare.

[How would the bois treat their pregnant significant other?]

This is the behemoth I mentioned before! It’s so big that I kept having issues trying to save it while I was working on mobile. Included is first reaction, if it’s a scare, if it’s not a scare, through the pregnancy, and as a bonus, during labor (you can thank my hubby for that one)!

Classic- He's freaking out. that's- that's not how babies work- that's not how- He's hyperventilating. He's going to pass out... When he gets ahold of himself and realizes that he doesn't know about how having kids between monsters and humans works... It... might be possible...

If it's a scare- he's pretty relieved. Not because he didn't want kids- it's just that it was so sudden! He didn't even think it was possible! You can bet he's doing more research into this so they can take precautions. Next time, if there's a question about pregnancy, it'll be when they're ready.

Not a scare- he- he'll be ok- really he will- just... in a minute... After he gets over the shock, he takes another moment to himself before he goes to his S/o and a bit awkwardly apologizes for the freak out. He asks how she's doing and what she wants to do.

Through pregnancy- He tries to make sure that his S/o is comfortable, that she has everything that she needs, and at the beginning, he is super frazzled. He’s keeping it together- but just barely! Look just a little closely and you’ll see that he’s about to start falling apart at the seams. His brother helps the best he can, but the best part of it, as far as he’s concerned is when they’re in bed, arms wrapped around each other, nothing to worry about but letting the peacefulness wash over them and sleep. When he finally relaxes back into the fact that they’re going to have a baby, he manages to be much more chill. Even the worst day at work doesn’t stand a chance to keep him upset when he gets home and his S/o is there, waiting for him, her round belly ready to be stroked as he grins goofily at it, their little soulling starting to make movements inside... This really is the life.

During labor- Oh- oh stars- he has to do something! What?! What is he supposed to do?! He has to get her to the hospital- has to- now! How does he- Oh- duh! Wait- can he take her through a shortcut while she’s in labor?! Is it safe?! She ends up leading the boys both to Creampuff’s car, and Creampuff drives them, showing off his driving skills and how quickly he can get them there, while Classic is in the back yelling for him to slow down, observe the speed limit- for the love of everything nice and happy, please show him mercy!

Creampuff- Uh... He understands that people often see him as child like, but he does know how babies are made... And he didn't do anything physical, or take his soul out...

If it's a scare or not- Not likely to happen with him; it would have to be on purpose.

Through pregnancy- Since this was planned, he is very prepared! It’s adorable just how ready he thinks he is, and how all of his plans fail. “YOU MEAN... WE WON’T EVEN NEED THIS FOR THE FIRST TWO YEARS...?” But his big watery sockets make his S/o pull him close, comforting him, and he’s happy again- as long as he has them, everything is all right. He mother hens his S/o quite a bit, only letting her do things that are “safe for the baby”, as dictated by “authorities” on websites. And he takes it upon himself to premake her meals for when he’s gone, so that he can make sure she’s getting everything she needs, also banning his brother from taking her to Grillby’s... but, when the cravings hit, he caves ridiculously easily to her. But, his S/o's life isn’t all laying around and premade heath snacks! He makes sure that she does her baby yoga and prenatal exercises, too. Have to stay healthy for the baby!

During labor- He’s running around trying to find the go bag and everything the websites said they need- he knows it was here just the other day...! His S/o is either going to have to get him to calm down (a tall order) or call for an ambulance to get them to the hospital.

Red- Uh- uh- wait- but- how...?! He- he- ...he feels like he should be panicking more... Outwardly, he's tense, snapping at everyone else, keeping everyone away from his S/o, sweating and watching her a lot... Inside? He's nervous; it's her decision what happens... He knows he's got the whole dad thing down; how awesome his brother turned out shows that! But... He's not worthy of his S/o, and those are his genetics... How does his S/o feel about that? What if this is the thing that makes her figure out that she deserves better?! He won't say anything, though, his S/o will have to ask him what's going on with all the almost touches and switching from holding her close to distancing himself.

If it's a scare- He's a bit... disappointed... he'd just started thinking that his S/o would accept, and maybe even like, the forever of being bound to him with a child...

Not a scare- He's still a bit tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop; he knows that humans don't always want to have kids, and they can do something about it... When his S/o tells him that, of course they want to keep the baby, he's so relieved- it feels like the suitcase of anxiety he'd been lugging around all this time has disappeared.

Through pregnancy- Red is the ultimate provider and protector. He makes a nest the softest his S/o has ever felt, he puts all sorts of barriers and traps and gizmos all over the place! His S/o has never felt safer- as long as she doesn’t try to go outside alone... There’s nothing that she wants for more than a few moments- usually. Even on the days he’s knock down, drag out tired, he sees her cravings and pregnant moods as his little hellion influencing her, and... he wants to feed and spoil them more... It’s rare that he’s ever actually pissy with her, but when he is, he leaves to get what she wants, bitches and gripes the whole way there and back, and feels better by the time he gets back- and makes her bribe him with affection. He’s rigged it so that anyone who tries to get in that doesn’t have an approved magical signature... well, they won’t be getting in. ... possibly anywhere- ever. He may have held back in the Underground, hating what his world had become, but this is his mate and his child. He’s not holding back. He doesn’t know anything about gardening, but he can rig a setup so that a plot of garden can be perfectly watered at all times, and his brother takes care of the rest, so they’ll never run out of resources. He has threatened to maul others if they look like they’ve got aggressive plans for his S/o, but he waits until she’s gone; he doesn’t want to upset her. Somehow, while he’s done all of this, he always seems to be there when it’s nap time, or when it’s being lazy around the house time, cuddling, nuzzling, and letting it be known how happy he is. Edge gives him shit for purring so much, but he’s actually very proud of how active and motivated he is. Red does get anxious whenever she wants to leave the perfectly protected den he’s made her, though...

During labor- He freezes. What the hell- what is happening?! It’s such strange behavior that it takes him a few moments to figure out what was going on. When he does, He has his brother get his car, getting his S/o in the back and being on hyper alert for danger- that is, if he doesn’t manage to convince her of a home birth. it’s jus’ so much safer! in here- where no one he doesn’t want to get in can get in! Edge guards the door while Red glares at the midwife and birthing team to make sure nothing hinky is going on.

Edge- That... can't happen... He knows how baby bones are made! Oh- but his S/o is a human... Maybe that is how it works for his S/o...? The whole time he's not outwardly reacting, standing stiff, looking like he's waiting for orders or something. His S/o will have trouble telling for certain if he's angry, or it's just his normal emotionless mask.

If it's a scare- He's relieved! That was something he didn't think could happen, and too many questions leading to too much information were piling up in his mind at one time. He's also a bit... let down. While it was too much info and overwhelming to try to think about it all in that one moment, it could have been nice...

Not a scare- He leaves. Not to abandon his S/o! He tells Red to stay there and that he needs to run an errand- the errand is trying to wrap his skull around his new reality. He just needs a bit to process this! It's so many things he thought were impossible all happening at once! Once he gets his skull together, he comes back and immediately holds his S/o close against him. He knows that the two of them are smart enough to get through this, and despite all the shit he gives his brother, Red is also very smart, and he knows he'd do anything for him.

Through pregnancy- He’s hot and cold more than usual. He- has- some... feelings for her that... may be love like... And he’s going to keep both his S/o and their child safe. No matter if he has to intimidate everyone from here to the moon! He’s not used to being able to show emotions other than anger and toughness... Good thing his S/o is so fiery! He regularly engages in verbal battles with her to help her get rid of some of her stress and irritation from all the things that are going on with her body. It does backfire a bit, though, sometimes... When they’re both making their points and she’s yelling at him, her rage twisting her features- uh... well... He can’t stop thinking of taking her right there, or putting her to her knees and twisting his phalanges in her hair and feeling her throat around him- He... he’s never been so sexually driven before... and it’s not like it’s going to change soon; neither of them can help it- Pregnancy looks so fucking sexy on her... it makes her seem like a goddess of fertility and war. His soul beats for her with every breath.

During labor- Once he gets his S/o to the hospital and set, his internal mini panic ends. Now he's yelling at her, reminding her about the proper breathing technique and working her through the contractions. The staff feels like maybe they should worry about abuse, but then... His S/o is ruling the room- she's glowing, ordering everyone around, looking like she's about ready to punch anyone who gets too close, shouting and demanding the nurses give her the DAMN DRUGS! He's so in love, so- turned on... Is it wrong that he's thinking about putting another one in her right that moment...?

Blue- He's silent. The words "I think I'm pregnant" echo around in his skull, which looks devoid of emotion. Is his S/o teasing him because she thinks he doesn't know how babies are made? But... she doesn't look like she's joking... A sudden look of shock hits his face as he realizes that- he was with her during his heat! Oh! Oh... Well... That could explain it! He smiles and pulls his S/o close, nuzzling against her and scenting the heck out of her.

If it's a scare- Oh... Well! Maybe there is a chance that can happen, but... not yet! This will give them time to figure out how it can happen and what to do about it so they can decide on a better time when they’re more ready for this!

Not a scare- His S/o is going to have his baby... He’s the proudest skeleton around! He walks around with his skull held high, chest puffed out, huge grin, and nothing short of a strut. All of his coworkers wonder what’s going on with him, but they don’t have to for long, because he’s so happy he’s not even trying to keep it a secret.  

Through pregnancy- You know those over the top cutesy couples where one insists on getting the one carrying the baby anything they want? That’s Blue. His S/o is going to have to be careful, because he will over indulge her cravings and with anything it even looks like she’s interested in. His S/o will protest that he’s doting on her too much, but he’s convinced that he’s the happiest damn man ever in existence, and she’s giving him this, so she deserves to have anything that he can give her- and he can give her a lot. They now have the nicest and best feeling nest that’s probably ever existed. She has more of anything than she could ever hope to use or need, but he’s always happy to give her more and make sure she’s taken care of in every way possible. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind who the father of the baby is when they walk around; he’s so full of pride that he’d dislocate a rib if his chest puffed out any more, and his skull barely has room on it for how big his grin is.

During labor- He's running around, yelling for his brother and trying to find the go bag and everything they had ready- he swears it was right there just that morning! Until Stretch wanders over, twirling the keys on a phalange, ushering the two of them to the car. When Blue sees the stuff in the back seat, he remembers that he'd moved it there to be even more ready... He'll be happy when this part is over and he can just hold his S/o and child safely in his arms! He's not a fan of them being in pain, so he's going to be asking the staff to have every kind of pain meds on hand, just in case...

Stretch- Stretch.exe has crashed and needs to be reboot to make any changes. He- didn't just hear what he thought he did... did he? See, there's no way that- except, unless there was... He slowly regains feeling in his extremities, and stares at the empty space in front of his sockets a bit longer before fully coming to. that's... *he can't decide whether he's supposed to be happy or horrified, his S/o's expression isn't telling him* wow... that's something, huh? science. *shakes skull in amazement*

If it's a scare- He needs to be more careful. Maybe someday, in the future, he'll want kids- but right now- he messes around too much; he's not serious enough to take this on. He spent so long raising Blue, his whole childhood and teen years, really, he wants some time to just have fun. He doesn't want to ruin life for everyone involved by getting in that situation and blaming them.

Not a scare- Oh shit- oh shit! Oh, god of motherfuck! He's zoned out staring off at nothing. Panicking internally. After trying to get his attention for long enough, his S/o just slaps him, yelling at him in frustration and leaves. The slap brought him back to the real world, but it's Blue yelling at him that makes him realize just how bad that had been. "HOW CAN YOU JUST STAND THERE LIKE A SAND SCULPTURE?! THEY'RE AFRAID, TOO! IF YOU WEREN'T SO BUSY THINKING OF ONLY YOURSELF, YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN THAT! AT LEAST YOU HAVE SOME EXPERIENCE RAISING A BABY BONES! THEY HAVE NONE! THEY NEED YOU NOW MORE THAN EVER! ... AND IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR LAZY COXXYS AFTER THEM RIGHT NOW, I'LL INFORM MUFFET OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND CELEBRATE WHEN YOU'RE BANNED!"

Through pregnancy- It’s... it’s not as bad as he made it out to be in his mind. He’d felt like someone had been about to hand them a baby any second, and then their lives would have been over. Instead they had nine and a half months to figure their shit out and get ready for what was coming. With many times set aside to talk everything out, and Blue there to mediate (make sure that Stretch was actually saying what he thought and wanted instead of trying to please by going with the flow) they managed to to work it out so that by they time it reached the third trimester, he’s pretty happy with the warm little life they’ve gotten all set up for themselves, and is a very cuddly skeleton. Also, a little secret he’s found out about pregnancy is that it makes his S/o’s pussy taste so much more delicious.

During labor- Stretch freezes, then his brother's loud voice pulls him back, and he puts the fluctuating panic to the back of his skull and shortcuts away. They think he's running off, but by the time Blue, who's very pissed at him, gets Stretch's S/o to the car, they see him stuffing the bags of supplies in the back.

Black- Oh- stars- he- he didn’t actually mean that- goddamn it! Ok... maybe he had... but-! He’s worried; worried about keeping them all safe, and worried that if he reacts in a way to keep them safe, his S/o will be angry with him and leave him forever! He- he can’t live with that!!! He growls and takes his S/o home, somewhere safe where he can hold them close against him. “Tell Me Again?” He asks softly. “I think I’m pregnant.” It’s said more levelly than it was before, more believing that he’s going to say something stupid. “Oh, Love... I’m The Happiest Monster In The World...” He pulls back to meet her gaze. “I’m Going To Make Sure That You Are The Most Well Taken Care Of Mate In All The Land.”

If it’s a scare- Oh... Well... That’s too bad... But... Now they can see how they’d react to the real news. And... now that it’s gotten them thinking about it... he kind of wants to actually try... hopefully his S/o will want to soon, too.

Not a scare- He’s so happy. Others speculate why he’s so happy, but they can never get him to reveal the truth, though they’ve all heard outlandish, crazy things by now, all said with a straight face, as though they were the truth. He never lets his S/o be without him or his brother- protection precautions. They will be a happy little family... and even though this little one was on accident- the next little one will be completely on purpose... and not too long after.

Through pregnancy- He is great at noticing things, and what he notices, is anything his S/o wants. Anything their eyes stay on for longer than a moment, anything they mention wanting or wondering about in passing. And, the strange thing about his observations is- they seem to just manifest out of nowhere! Right when they really wanted them the most! Those cookies from Muffet’s- somehow ended up on the kitchen counter... The soft fuzzy blanket they’d forced themselves to put back, draped over the couch. The relief they need that just hovers around the edges, tormenting them with an unscratchable itch they just can’t scratch- Black is there, holding them close, finding just the right angle, and sliding against it at just the right speed, and just the right strength to make his S/o's mind melt, their body doing the same in his arms. They are spoiled rotten by the end, and that’s just how he likes it; no one can do for them what he can, and they’ll never leave. Also hidden under the surface that is his joy of giving his S/o everything they could ever want, is his happiness and pride of the show of their bonding. Let no one doubt who his S/o belongs with.

During labor- The sudden cry of pain makes his skull snap to his S/o and search the area. What happened?! Who hurt them?! Who does he need to kill?! When he realizes that it's time, he yells for his brother to get the car, (softly and lovingly) telling his S/o to sit back and relax while he runs around and gathers everything, then stops where she is and helps her to the car. He only allows staff that he has personally vetted into the room, and only after he or Mutt have checked every form of ID available. No one will hurt his mate, or his heir. The moment he feels like any of the staff has messed up, he'll yell at them and push them out of the way- He'll Do It His Damn Self, Thank You!

Mutt- uuuuuuhhh... huh... um... hm. that’s... um... a thing, now, isn’t it... crazy how... humans reproduce... all run by chemicals, you know... Oh, damn it, look, he’s really... not sure how to behave! Is his S/o excited or pissed?! What is he supposed to do?! Does she want him to- no. No, he doesn’t think he wants to do that... He’s going to say no. If she asks, his answer is that he can’t do that. He realizes that she’s panicking, too, and is glad that his stony exterior made it so that none of his thoughts came through. He pulls her close and stands there, holding her, until she calms down. Even though he’s silent, he gives her what comfort he can, even if it’s just from his presence of being there. He’s not sure what else he could do... Except what he’s always done; take control of the situation. Their relationship is based on them both getting what they want from each other, and that what they want is the same thing... but... if he can’t convince her... if he tries to force her... she’ll just dig her heels in harder.

If it’s a scare- Oh, well... ok, then. He supposes... that it was just a mistake... something confusing... but... It brought up his memories of raising Black, and... he kinda liked remembering the way Black used to look up at him like he was the most amazing monster to ever have lived... made him think that... he probably... wouldn’t say no if there was the chance to do that again...

Not a scare- This situation sucks. The way that it happened sucks. He hopes that his S/o doesn’t end up hating him over this. He really loves them, and... that’s his kid. He’s not going anywhere. God and stars help the person who looks at his S/o the wrong way... and they’d have to help her if she ever tried to leave him, now...

Through pregnancy- His inner yandere shows itself very obviously. He’s always there, no matter where she goes. At the store? He’s lurking in the aisles. Taking a walk around? He’s silently shadowing her, keeping a socket out for anyone looking even remotely like they’d start something. Riding a bus to work? He’s somewhere... though you’d have to have a really good eye to pick him out. If they weren’t dating, he would probably get hit with stalking charges. Instead, he gets hit with, “why don’t you just ask to come with me instead of creeping the shadows like a freaking weirdo?”

During labor- Mutt internally freaks out for a moment, but gets ahold of himself while his brother guides his S/o to the car. Everyone around him is going to be glad for Black in this time. Mutt is looking like a murderous, protective bodyguard, standing just on the edge of the shadows, growling at anyone who even gets too close. No one except previously approved staff are allowed in the room. Everyone who is human thinks this is bizarre, but all the monsters there take it in stride as the norm. Black orders everyone around, which saves them all from having Mutt growling at them and seeming to stand over them, about to attack, even if he does sound like he's micromanaging.

Axe- He... uh... oops... He feels kinda guilty; there had to be intent involved, and... well, his S/o is pregnant, isn’t she? So... obviously he meant it... He’s half excited for a baby, and half really nervous because his brain keeps going back to; more mouths to feed, need more food- food! He hopes his S/o isn’t mad at him...  

If it’s a scare- He’s a bit relieved, since he was worried about his S/o finding out and being mad at him... but, maybe they could open the conversation about it...?

Not a scare- He breaks down and admits that he caused this, asking his S/o to stay with him and love him even though he was so reckless- but he fully intends to stay with them, even if they say no, it will just be from the shadows... but he can’t just let her take their baby and go! It’s dangerous out there! It’s not- ... oh... they were trying for a baby...? oh yeah... wait- no they weren’t! But he appreciates her telling him that they were to make him feel better...

Through pregnancy- He’s not leaving their side. He’s going to protect them through everything- like being around other people, or not having space to sit on a bench at the park... He gets a bit underfoot, honestly... But, he’s doing it for the most thoughtful reasons! He loves his S/o, and isn’t going to let anything happen to her, or their baby.

During labor- He's panicking hardcore! What's he supposed to do? What's he supposed to do?! Did he ever know what to do? He'd ask his S/o, but they're too busy screaming! Wait- Paps! Paps'll know what to do! He's good at remembering the stuff his mind shuts out! They all get to the hospital, and his S/o is in a room. All of the noise and commotion is messing with his mind, making that problem that makes him block access to his memories act up... He's kicked out of the hospital in approximately six minutes. He's also not allowed back until the baby is born.

Crooks/Bun- He’s not likely to start up these activities on his own, so it would either be a huge surprise, with him being pretty quiet and just blinking for a few moments. Axe will probably come over and see if someone needs to get smacked, honestly, or, he'd expect it and be excited!

If it’s a scare or not-  Yeah, this would 8/10 have to be on purpose. Those other 2/10, would be 1 oh wow, so it can happen after only one time... and 1 oh... wow...

Through pregnancy- He’s so happy, going everywhere with his S/o, talking about everything they plan to do, going on many parenting websites and doing research in his spare time, and babyproofing everything. He’s delighted to find out that the baby proofing helps with Axe, too, since he can’t trip and injure himself on everything when he’s not paying attention, now.

During labor- Oh- Ohh- Oh My! What To Do! Oh, Yes, To The Hospital! At the hospital, he's there as the amazing birthing coach he is, encouraging and rooting for his S/o!

Dusty- uhhhhhhhhhhh... um... what the fuck did his S/o just say? She thinks she’s what? ...! He’s freaking out, not only because he apparently was so reckless, but also because now he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. There’s going to be a kid- it’s going to be his kid- what if- what if there’s a reset- what if that demonic hellspawn comes back- oh fuck- what if it tries to take over his kid?!

If it’s a scare- He’s still severely rattled, and needs lots of time alone. Why isn’t Papyrus talking to him? Is he mad at him? It’s so quiet in his head now... at least, thank the stars, there’s not a chance of that stuff happening...

Not a scare- panic- panic- no disco, lots of panic! Where’s Papyrus?! He’d know what to do! Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- he’s going to be a dad- fuckfuckfuck!  

Through pregnancy- He’s very nervous. He needs a support animal or something. He’s so sorry that his S/o has to go through this with him dragging her down- he- he has feelings for her, though, and he’s sorry, but- if anyone else tried to step in and take her off his hands, they wouldn’t be a problem very long. A puddle of blood? Yes. A problem? No. And no one better fucking touch her! Ok, he’s calm, he promises- backthefuckupbuddy! His S/o will have to be patient with him as he adjusts and fights his way through the clouds of LV and psychological torture induced madness...

During labor- He blanks. He panics. He freaks out. His service dog nudges his hand and positions the handle of the vest under his hand, and he holds on out of habit. The dog leads him to a spot away from the noise as his S/o calls an ambulance. She gives the dog the command that tells them there's going to be a loud noise, because they probably won't remember to turn the sirens off when they get closer. She drops the note for Dusty in the spot they'd trained the dog to bring him notes from, and is on the porch, leaning against the wall, waiting for the ambulance. When Dust comes back to himself, his dog brings him a note that says "I'm at the hospital, I went into labor. Call me, love you! S/o." He's so glad to hear her voice when he calls.

[jacqueline314]

Amphibia Fan-Fiction

Possible spoilers for those who aren’t caught up

So... heavy. It's.... silent. Fells ..... cold.... with every flinch. I feel like I'm floating, but also getting deeper somehow. I panicked. I start moving my arm to grab something, but I fell too weak. I cry for help, but my mouth won't shout. I'm scared. I don't want to be alone. Please! Don't make me drown...

And all of a sudden, Marcy felt a tight grip on her hand. Without hesitation, she immediately tighten her grasp to avoid slipping off. She is then pulled towards whatever grabbed her. When she stood up, she can smell and taste the salty water. As Marcy's vision slowly becomes clearer, right in front of her are Anne and Sasha wearing their one piece swimsuit. Including herself, when she looked down.

Sasha stood behind Anne with her arms wrapped around her, helping Anne pull whatever she was pulling. In this case, Marcy. "Are you okay?" Asked Anne. Marcy didn't reply, she just stood there in shocked and confused. "Whoa Mar-Mar, you looked like you've seen a ghost." Said Sasha as she smirks in laughter. In fact, Marcy thought she was a ghost since she got stabbed by King Andrias.

Marcy says "Wh-what ha-append? Last thing I remember was that I got stabbed, I dropped the music box, I-" she was then cut off when Anne said "Whoa whoa whoa, calm down. One at a time. What happened was that you were cough by a wave and it crashed down with you." "And you were stabbed?-" "And what music box?" "I... Uhh..."

But then Sasha's father called out to them "Kids! It's time for lunch!" "Coming!" Sasha unwraps her arms from Anne, then takes Marcy's free hand "I think the wave did a number on you Mar-Mar" "We'll talk about it later, promise" The two then pull her to where the parents are. Marcy is still skeptical about what she remembered. She hopes they'll talk about it soon.

10 minutes later, everyone ate halfway through their plates. Anne and Sasha are sitting close together while Marcy is on the opposite side, next to her father. Remembering what he said from the day of Anne's birthday, she tightened her grip of the plate, thinking about their move to another state. Eventually when she calmed down, she loosened so much that her plate, that carried her half-eaten meal, fell on to the sand.

Her father noticed the food fell and once it hit the earth, everyone saw. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” as tears come out of her eyes “sh-sh-shh, it’s okay Marcy” said the father, trying to make her calm. As Anne and Sasha watch, they start to worry about her. The two looked at each other, telling the other that they have to comfort her later. After Sasha’s Father cleaned up the mess, Marcy’s father talks to her daughter after she has calmed down.

In a calmed voice, he said “I know it’s scary, it’s important that I need this job to support you and your mother. We know how close you are to Sasha and Anne. That’s why it’s their idea for all of us to come together and throw our family a goodbye party. That way, you’ll all make one last memory together.” This doesn’t make sense, King Andrias is a conqueror and he needs the music box to invade other worlds. Who knows when he’ll takeover earth. Why aren’t Sasha and Anne worried?

She didn’t respond to what he said. Her father sighed and gave Marcy to Sasha and Anne, so they’ll comfort her. As they left their parents to the edge of the beach where the three will be alone with a towel for Marcy to wrap in, the father sat down, exhausted, as his wife comforts him and the two gave each other a warm smile.

Meanwhile, the trio sat on a small sand hill, facing the ocean. With Marcy wrapped, Anne and Sasha leaning on opposite sides, each holding both of her hands, they all take a breather. “Marcy,” Asked Sasha. “Yes?” Marcy answered. “Will you tell us-” Continued Anne “What has been-” “Bothering you?”

Marcy wants to tell them, but she’s smart. The could’ve been mind wiped by Andrias, or something else. She sat in front of them, her back towards the ocean, and says “Okay, but I need you guys to keep an open mind.” They both agreed. They’re willing to listen to everything she’s going to say, and give it their all to understand.

Marcy tells them about the day of Anne’s birthday, and how the music box they stole, separated and transported them into a world of frog, toad, and newt citizens and giant bugs, birds, worms, snakes and moles are pets and predators. She tells them about how Anne was adopted by a country frog family called the Plantars, and how Sasha became a warrior queen of toads, while she was the right hand of a noble king. Or thought he was.

Turns out he wasn’t a good guy and when he got his hands on the music box, he’ll use it to conquer many worlds. Including theirs. “I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t expect both of you to believe me. I just, don’t want to be separated again.” She then looked straight down to the ground as she grasp the towel tight. Sasha and Anne believed that the wave that caught her must’ve hit her head or something, but they slowly gave her a warm hug for comfort.

“We’re not going to be separated Mar-Mar” Said Anne. “But even if there was an amphibian invasion, we’ll kick their butts.” Said Sasha. “We’ll always be together.” “Even when we’re apart?” The two silently chuckled. “Even when we’re apart.” Tears start to come out of her eyes once again, as she lets go of the towel and pushes the two to look at their eyes. The towel falls down to the sand and blown away by the wind. She puts her hands on each of their faces and says with all of her passion “I love you.”

A foam of bubbles comes out of Marcy’s oxygen mask in a liquid cryogenic tube. Andrias stands in front of Marcy’s cryo-chamber, checking on her conditions. His arms behind his back. “Just wait and see, Marcy. Your friend won’t survive. But don’t worry,” then he turs around, walks away and continues “I’ll make sure you’ll spend her last breath together.”

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed it. This fan fiction idea was inspired by @thatonedorkthatdraws who made a Headcannon of Marcy and Anne when they went to the beach and a random fan art of Marcy in a cryogenic chamber. I forgot who drew it. But who ever that person is, thank you and your art is beautiful. Thank You for Reading!!!!

[straynstay]

Minho - Hybrid AU! (part II)

Happy Easter, everyone! 🐰♥️

part I

for the first time in years you skipped class 

all because of your conflicting feelings for Minho

you are still too fragile to see him and Chaewon at school, especially after what happened at the parking lot

seeing them together and so intimate with cute pet names made you realize there’s no room for you anymore

Minho is growing up and becoming an adult, and so are you, and soon society will pressure you both to find a mate

and you know a prey won’t choose a predator to spend the rest of their lives with

so it’s better to end things with Minho now

that’s why you avoided him when he showed up at your house to check up on you after school

you heard him ringing the bell and calling your name, which only made you cry harder, but you remained in bed

he came back when your parents were home, and even with your mom asking you to at least see what he wanted, you fiercely denied

Minho left his class notes with your mom, and at night you cried with the papers pressed onto your chest

you woke up feeling a little better in the morning, despite your eyebags and swollen eyes ruining your face

you placed a cool towel over your eyes 10 minutes before leaving to school and you hoped that would help somehow

walking to school without Minho was weird, but you said to yourself you’d soon get used to it

from today on, Minho would become like any other prey to you

it’s time to remove him completely from your life and you’re ready to do it

-♡-

school days were dreadful

but ignoring Minho was easier than you had imagined though

after he noticed you were being cold and distancing yourself from him, he took the hint and left you alone right away

and it hurt

a lot

because without you around, Chaewon was even more glued to his side

and even though you tried to avoid certain places you knew they’d be at, you still saw them sometimes

walking around together, holding hands, eating vegetables and feeding each other at the cafeteria, laughing at stupid things, being the damn perfect couple you wish you’d be

but since your pain is your own, you never opened your mouth to complain about it to anyone

you just tried to shrug it off and move on, washing away all the pent up anger on the field

and everyone at school was really impressed at how good you were playing lacrosse lately, making them hope for the victory this year

and before you could dwell even more on your self pity, saturday arrived

the big day

the revenge match

you were nervous, excited, worried, angry, and heartbroken

but you were decided to play like your life depend on it

maybe you could become your school’s star player and get a nice scholarship afterwards if you give your best at the game tonight

so you set your mind to focus only on the game and make your team and school proud of you

since the match would be held at the rival school, you had a small gathering at your own school with your P.E. teacher and teammates

Minho was there with the cheerleaders rehearsing the choreography and chants for tonight’s game

you ignored him like you had been doing since tuesday

you even sat beside your coach on the school bus during the small trip to the rival school

the cheerleaders were too excited for your liking, but you didn’t say a thing, letting their chit chat numb your ears

as soon as you arrived, the team went straight to the designated locker room and got ready for the match

you were doing things automatically, barely paying attention to your surroundings

you put on your equipment, helped some of your teammates with theirs, and were ready to play

you waited with your team to be called to the field and when you got there, you were impressed by the amount of people on the bleachers cheering for your school

and then your eyes captured the place beside the field where the cheerleaders were

Minho looked really good with his tight uniform, and you were sure Chaewon had complimented him lots

you rolled your eyes realizing you were thinking about them again and went to your position

as soon as the judge blew the whistle, it was game on

-♡-

you were scoring like there’s no tomorrow, fighting hard to turn the game around

pretty much half of your team’s goals were yours

and everyone was going crazy chanting your name

but the one person your eyes quickly looked for was happily hugging someone else

Minho was spinning Chaewon’s small body around as if she was the one who was making the team win

and you couldn’t stand it

you really couldn’t

you wanted to rip them apart, growl as angrily as you could at Chaewon while showing your huge fangs to scare the shit out of her

but you just clenched your fists, letting your claws almost pierce through the thick fabric of your gloves

if it wasn’t for your mouthpiece, you’d probably let out a loud hiss

you shook your head, griped the stick harder, and decided to solely focus on the game

rage was freely flowing through your veins, boiling your blood and blinding your common sense

you’re gonna destroy anyone who stands in your way now

and you’re gonna take that damn trophy home

-♡-

it felt like waking up from a deep trance being lifted up by your teammates while the crowd chanted your name

it took you awhile to understand what had happened

but when you saw the scoreboard, realization hit you

you won!

you really won!!

it felt amazing raising the trophy up high while all the audience screamed for you

you felt like a celebrity after taking so many pics

a lot of people from your school came to congratulate and thank you for the victory

and it was all too good while it lasted

your heart was roaring inside your chest

you can actually get used to this feeling of being praised for being fierce and untammed

after it all ended, you and your teammates went to the locker room to shower and get changed

you were still being the main topic of their conversation

you heard everything they said you did on the last minutes of the match, but you don’t really remember doing it

you were so blinded by anger that you can’t even recall the rest of the game

but it’s okay cause you won

and that’s all that matters, right?

once you slowly started removing your equipment, you realised how sore you were

your arms felt like jelly, your legs were ugly bruised, your shoulders hurt from all the impact

your ears were ringing from all the screaming and your eyes were sensitive due to the huge spotlights on the field

you just wanted to throw yourself in bed and sleep for three days straight

you put away your equipment in your bag and took your body wash to the shower

it was a quick shower since you couldn't make most of the movements now

so you just washed away the sweat, dried yourself the best your arms allowed you, and started to put on new clothes to go home

“we’re already going to the bus, want us to take your bag?” the captain asked and you agreed

you checked if your equipment was complete in your huge bag, and handed it to your teammates

“I’m finishing, I’ll be out in a sec” you said and heard them telling you to take your time and that they’ll wait for the star of the team to carry the trophy to school

you just laughed at their comments and continued to get dressed

you tried brushing your hair, but your shoulders said no

so you just used water to fix them a little bit

you were so focused on your own pain that you didn’t notice Minho was inside the lockers room staring at you

but once you did, all the emotions you were suppressing came back like a tsunami

and it felt like drowning

“preys aren’t allowed here, go away” you let out an angry growl at him

“you don’t scare me, but nice try” Minho gave you two thumbs up

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” you screamed, tired of having wrong feelings for him

“what happened to you? why are you like this?” Minho took a step closer, but you raised your voice again

“you happened to me, Minho! this is all your fault!”

“what?!” he snared “what did I do?” he crossed his arms staring intensely at you 

you got defeated while looking back at him

four days being apart and nothing changed, it only made you miss him like crazy

he was really clueless, wasn’t he?

“what did you do?” you asked tiredly

“you talked to me, Minho, you became my lab partner” you gave him a bitter smile remembering that fateful day

“why couldn't you just be afraid like everyone else?” you inquired through your tears 

“I know it's my fault falling in love, but please leave me alone until I get over these feelings for you… please” you never sobbed before in your life, but because of Minho now you did

“no” his answer was firm

“Minho, go” you said again using your intimidating tone

any prey would have ran away for dear life, but Minho didn’t even budge

he did, in fact, approached you slowly, but before he was too close, you backed out

Chaewon was coming, you could smell her sweet scent from the distance 

“Minho?” she was calling for him outside the lockers room and she was distressed, you could sense it

“she’s worried about you” you warned, turning your back to him and pretending to still fix your hair

“she has nothing to worry about” Minho replied

“you’re a bunny, I’m an angry lynx, it makes sense to me”

“you're a lynx, yeah, but you're also my best friend and I'm the one who's worried here”

you tried muffling a mewl, but hearing Minho calling you best friend hurt like hell

Chaewon called him louder this time

“go” you closed your eyes, forcing some tears to roll down to your chin

your chest was aching like there was a fire rapidly consuming your heart

and then you heard his footsteps moving away from you

Minho did what you asked him to and left you alone

you sighed loudly, but quickly closed your lips together to avoid sobbing

you were feverish, enraged, sad, disheartened, shaking, ready to lose control

this was all new to you, never in your life your emotions were so over the top

but this is Minho’s effect on you

you just want this feelings to leave you alone, to go away

you rest your head on your locker a little too forcefully, producing a loud bang that echoed through the room

you did it again, hitting your forehead a little bit stronger this time

and again

and again

every time the bang was louder and louder

“you’re gonna get bruised”

“Minho....” you whined hearing him talking to you

he was back, you couldn’t believe it

you turned your head to look at him and tell him to go away again

“I’m not leaving you, don’t even try” he warned reading your intentions in your desperate eyes

“I’m really angry” you said

“I’m not worried about it, I know you’re not gonna hurt me because I trust you and because I know you love me too much to even consider causing me pain”

his words made you cry harder

he was right

Minho noticed you wouldn’t reply, so he got one step closer

he sighed

“but you know... I love you too and I’m hating seeing you like this, so if your pain is because of Chaewon and I, you shouldn’t be suffering”

you scoffed

how dare he say this after all you’ve seen and heard?

“hear me out, ok? I like her, but I don’t like her” Minho quickly explained

“I like her as a bunny, but I don’t like her like romantically even though she’s a bunny and my natural choice of a partner, but who cares about natural selection? we’re made in a lab, there’s nothing natural about it” he shrugged

“I feel like she’s part of my litter. I never met a Mini Lop before, so it’s nice to be around one of my own” he took another step closer

“but not as nice and thrilling like being around you” Minho gave you side smile

“I like living life dangerously, and you keep me high on adrenaline all the time like... will you eat me for breakfast? will you marinate me for dinner instead? should I run now or wait a minute more?” he teased

“shut up” you rolled your eyes

“make me” Minho provoked you, and you moved in the blink of an eye

your lips collided with his in a strong, angry kiss

you felt your entire body buzzing with adrenaline for tasting him after waiting for so long

you pulled him closer and grabbed his neck to deepen the kiss

Minho didn’t fight back and for the first time he actually behaved like a prey with you

you felt yourself getting too excited about it all: his submissive scent, his addicting taste, his soft lips, his hands gripping your hips, his hot body against yours...

and in the heat of the moment you ended up with his lower lip between your sharp teeth 

Minho hissed and you broke the kiss, running your thumb across his lip to see if you had hurt him too much

“sorry” you said “I got carried away”

“I don’t mind some love bites here and there” he winked seductively at you

“Chaewon will try to stab me if I hurt you somehow, she likes you waaay too much” you rolled your eyes smiling a bit, feeling somehow a lot more calmer and at ease than before while caressing his long fluffy ears

“she may like me, but I like you and that’s the only thing that matters” Minho stated

“will you give me a cute nickname now?” you asked

“yeah, mine” he smiled brightly “how does that sound?”

“oddly perfect”

[incorrectclonewars]

at odds part.1

another maulsoka fanfic! this one is a modern au where everyone is human. sidious is a big crime lord and maul is his right-hand man to make all the bad things happen and was in a relationship with ahsoka, until she found out the things he was doing and broke up with him and moved away.

maul as a human is pale and heavily inked with tattoos, red spiky hair and dressed in all black and of course a leather jacket. ahsoka is dark skinned with vitiligo, her hair is white with blue dye, and she wears a mix between feminine and tomboy. 

warning: mentions of blood & bruises, getting beaten up and some medical help (not serious, just some normal things like when you get a scratch) . lots of angst, swearing, mentions of sex (not including the word sex) and a make-out. did i mention angst?

The dark night sky was filled with rain and thunder, exactly how she remembered it. The shabby homes and apartments, lined up and creaked with every footstep, people dressed in dark clothing - hoodies their favourite, and walked around as if they were up to no good.

Ah yes, that’s exactly how Ahsoka remembered this place which she used to call home, now coming back she wondered how she could ever imagine seeing this shit hole as somewhere to live.

The brightness on her phone had to be decreased to not strain her eyes, the messages from just an hour ago reminded her why she had such thoughts.

Oh Maul...what have you done now?

Feral had called her an hour ago in a frantic, saying Maul wasn’t himself, especially after she left and was only getting worse. He needed help, and she was the only option despite leaving him two years ago.

She could never forget the sight of those unconscious bodies and Maul standing over them, blood on his hands. But the look on his face when he saw her - it broke her heart, but after knowing that he was doing this for years she just couldn’t stay with him, and left as soon as she could.

But after hearing Feral, she knew that she needed to come back.

Her hands shook as they turned the key in the lock and hearing the click, taking a deep breath, Ahsoka walked through the door and shut it behind her. Unlike the other accommodations, the floors here didn’t creak under her feet, but that didn’t stop her from taking slow and cautious steps. 

He isn’t here, ok, that was good. She had time to prepare then. 

She went through many scenarios in her head for what she would say to Maul but none of them felt good enough, what could she say? That she was sorry for leaving, but she had to because of what he did? It was true, but it felt too blunt, too harsh.

Her feet kept moving, taking in the place she once called home. It looked...bad. Clothes on the ground, dishes in the sink, paper peeling off the walls - 

“Oh…” The chairs were broken, laid on the floor that Ahsoka can only think that they had been thrown against the wall, and knows who did it.

She doesn’t dare go any further, and fate seems to agree as the door is burst open, clanking loudly at the force and as it shuts. Ahsoka freezes only for a second before pulling herself back together, and turns.

It’s Maul, dressed in black as always, but his clothing is ripped, there’s also blood. Her eyes widen at his state, and when he see’s her, he freezes.

“Ahsoka…”

Force, she had missed her name from his lips - she had missed his voice.

“Maul…”

Shit. She can’t speak, she can’t say why she’s here and wants to help him before he stares her down with a glare.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with a harsh voice. Ahsoka expected this, yet it still hurts. “Come to gloat at how better your life is without me? How Coruscant is much better than this piece of trash?” He turns away and sits on the couch, the only furniture that hasn’t been trashed.

She sighs. “Maul -”

“Or, have you found someone else and come to rub it in my face? Tell me how much better he is than me in every single way? Oh, and the sex must be great -”

“Would you shut up and let me talk!”

He whips his head back and he stands. “Why should I? You left me!” 

“I know I did, and I’m sorry -”

“Oh your sorry? Well that makes everything better doesn’t it!” He throws his hands in the air. “Why don’t we have a little tea party and celebrate -!” A wince cuts off his rant, his attention now at his side where his hands hold. 

Ahsoka looks at him worriedly and takes a step forward. “Maul, let me help.” He opens his mouth but she’s quick. “Please. Just...Just let me help you with those wounds, I’ll answer any question you give me. Please.”

She’s begging - pleading for him, she wants to talk, to set everything right no matter how long it’ll take, but not while he’s in pain and bleeding. He stares at her with anger in his eyes, but it’s faded as he sighs and sits back down, a wave of his hand as he says. “Do what you want.”

Ok, this is good - well, the yelling may have ended, but it was far from over. 

It’s a good thing she keeps a kit in her bag, being with Anakin too long made it happen.

But first, a wet cloth.

She finds a clean one and fills up a tub with cold water, and gently sits down next to him with the bowl on the table. He doesn’t look at her, it’s hurtful but expected. She touches his arm and he tenses, and recoils back. 

“Maul,” Ahsoka begs softly. He sneers and basically slams his arm on her lap, turning his head away more and leaning his chin on the palm of his head. Ok, that was kinda childish, but she’ll leave it for now. Unlike Maul, she’s gentle as she positions his arm so that she can gently wipe and rib the blood off, new and old. 

It’s silent for a few minutes, but Ahsoka can’t hold it in any longer.

“What happened?” Her voice as soft and gentle as it could be knowing his reactions, but with a lingering tone suggesting that she wasn’t going to back down.

Maul waits longer then a minute to answer. “Just some assholes who didn’t know when to stop.”

Vague, she remembers how sometimes she would ask him something; What did he want to eat or drink? Where should they go out for the day? What does this mean? Most of the times he could give a straight answer, other times he liked to play and would be so very vague about it that it ended up in a playfully wrestling match. 

She misses those times.

Once the blood is gone she pulls out the kit of her beg and disinfects the wound before wrapping it up, then moves onto the other. There isn’t much on his arm so she finishes quickly, and moves onto his chest.

She mentions to his shirt. “You need to take this off.”

“Already trying to get into my pants?”

Ahsoka ignores the blush and heat of her body, memories of them being playful as they stripped their clothing and had fun. 

Maul threw the shirt on the table and Ahsoka didn’t really care to tell him off, her thoughts on the semi-battered chest before her.

There are small cuts and bruises that won’t do any damage so they get done fast, some others take longer, but they are treated nevertheless. The one that made him wince was big, more bruised then the rest but had no blood - he was kicked there, perhaps. 

She taps it gentle. “Someone got a hit.”

“He paid for it greatly.”

She almost doesn’t want to know. “Please tell me you -”

“I didn’t kill him.” Maul cuts her off. “Rest assured, his body as well as his friends are just having a hard time getting to the hospital. They’ll make it.”

Swallowing the sigh of relief, a part of her cheers that they’re still alive, but she can’t avoid Maul’s actions in the matter. He still did what he did, it was wrong and she can’t push that away. 

She finishes cleaning and disinfecting it, now it’s time to wrap it up. 

Ahsoka pulls him to sit forward, there’s a grumble on his lips that dies as soon as she begins to wrap the first roll around his torso. Her job right now is to help his wounds, but her eyes can’t help but avert to his hardened chest that was almost covered by black ink. 

She remembers laying with him in bed in the afterglow of their first night and tracing the lines of his tattoos, each one having a story that she listened to as he told her. He was warm and held her tightly as he kissed her forehead and smiled at her so lovingly.

If only she didn’t see that night, that would still be happening, but she would have found out eventually and done the same thing. 

Better now that later they always say.

The bandage now done, Ahsoka ties it up tight to keep it from falling. “You need to change these everyday, wash your cuts, wounds and bruises before you put a new one back on. Also change them if they get dirty or wet. I’ll leave this here -”

“Why did you leave?”

The question fills the air with tension and freezes the young woman. Ahsoka knew he would ask that, she’s surprised it wasn’t the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw her, but he must have been too shocked to see her here. 

Letting the roll of bandage fall to the table, Ahsoka sits back but doesn’t look at him. “When I saw you that night, everything started to make sense. The times you were out, the plans having to be cancelled because you had more work to do and the strange hours you worked. At first I thought that you were seeing someone else, but I knew you weren’t that kind of person.” Hands together, her fingers brush and twiddle against each other. “I saw the name Sidious on your contacts and overheard you say his name a few times, along with some other things that didn’t sound good, but I trusted you. That night you said that you were going to be late again so I thought I would cook a nice dinner, and then I saw you, and everything just clicked together.”

She had done some research on the name after she saw that scene and found tie-ins to violent attacks, gangs and criminal organisations. He had people all around the city doing his bidding, and looking at one hooded figure, she was filled with a feeling of familiarity, and was horrified for it to be Maul.

“You could have stayed here, and wait for me to come back and explain.”

“I could have, but I was scared. I needed to get away from it all and sort everything out.”

“And did you?” His tone was still angry, but curious. 

Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t really figure anything out when she left, all her thoughts were on Maul. “No, all I could think about….was you.” Finally she turns to him to see the widen of his eyes, clearly not expecting an answer like that. She’s waiting for him to glare, yell and scream like before, even threatening her to get out - 

She gasps when he touches her cheek, his fingers gently brushing over the skin. He’s staring at her and she can’t help but fall to those eyes, she didn’t realise they had moved closer until his nose was just inches away from her own.

“I missed you.” 

“...I missed you too.” He says in a whisper with a look of brokenness, her heart clenches, and when he cups her cheek, she leans into the touch.

Maul shifts closer, a knee between her legs. 

It’s like watching in slow motion, knowing what’s about to come, but she gives no resistance as his lips cover her own

Ahsoka’s hands find their way to his body, one on his arm and the other over his hand on her cheek as she pulls him closer.

Force - it feels so good, so natural, so much like home.

Maul growls and presses further, his hands moving to her coat and pushing it down, she allows him to throw it off her, His hands on her waist and rubbing against her clothing, and she can’t help but moan and melt under it all. 

Before Ahsoka knows it, she’s pushed on her back and Maul’s hands are all over her, drinking her in until they get underneath her shirt. She breaks the kiss to moan and lavishes at his lips on her neck as his hands rise and reach her bra to squeeze her breasts.

No. This is wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this.

“Maul -”

“Shhh.” He purrs at her ear, the hit of his breath causing goosebumps. “Don’t talk, just feel, and moan.” 

He nibbles along her shoulder and for a few seconds she gives in, then gently pushes at his shoulder. 

“No...Maul, stop.”

Thankfully he does, and he leans up to look down at her with a cocked eyebrow. 

Ahsoka lets out a breath. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He frowns at her, and for a moment she thinks of just giving in, to let herself sink into this pleasure and deal with all of this in the morning. But that would only make things worse. 

“Because, we’re not…we’re not together anymore.”

He stares at her a bit long for her liking, then sneers and pulls away, she sits up as fast as she can and looks at the heavily tattooed and bruised man.

A part of her regrets her choice to stop it, but it was the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. What more could she say to him? 

His fists clench and teeth gritted, but he looks away from her, and says in the most broken and angry voice she has ever heard. “Just go.”

Her heart breaks, she’s so tempted to get closer and touch him again, to stay, but both were bad options right now. 

It would be best if she left.

“Ok.” She says a bit louder then a whisper, and packs her things away before picking up her coat and putting it back on. She grabs her bag and heads to the door, pausing on handle. “My number hasn’t changed,” Her voice now louder, enough for him to hear from the distance. “Please, contact me if you need anything.”

She’s met with silence, and takes that as her que to leave.

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

She holds it all in on the way home, as she puts her shoes at the doorway and walks to her room, putting the bag down at her desk and changing into pyjamas. When she hits the bed does she let all her feelings out, all the crying and whispered sorry’s in her head.

I fucked up.

And she doesn’t know how the hell to fix it.  

[anthropwashere]

TAG: WORD FIND

Ty @faenova for the tag! My words are abrupt, key, scare, and tie! First three fics are DP, last two are FMA.

your silence is my favorite sound

scare: The routine begins again, a crackly boombox keeping aggressive pace in the far corner. She's already decided to burn it before the day is out. Her attention drifts; not for the first time she wishes they were nearer a larger city rather than dead center in yet another stretch of cookie cutter cul-de-sacs filled with cookie cutter families and their cookie cutter thoughts—if any of them can be bothered to think at all. She's tired of suburbanites gawking down their noses at her and the rest of the troupe, as if they're less for being what Freakshow made of them. She aches for excitement, for fear. She can't remember the last time she truly got to scare anyone.

making maps out of  your dreams

scare(d): {Confused,} you chitter once you're both settled. {Where? Where before? Scared. Tired.}

{Confused,} the other agrees. {Tired. Rest.}

{Where? How? You?}

{Rest,} it repeats, and elbows you. Static jumps between your green hides, sharp and startling. You both hiss pain. You snarl, daring it to try that again. In turn it makes a new sound, something—grinding. Mechanical. You think of running water, a tangy and clean smell, the ability to make that sound via the flick of an innocuous switch. You have no idea what any of that means. You're pretty sure in this context the noise the other's making is supposed to be laughter. Let it laugh. You know by the tightness gathered at its red eyes that it's as scared as you are.

You curl in on yourself and try to remember the meaning of sleep.

some say we’ll see armageddon soon

abrupt(ly): Better late than never he falls through the apartment before the ghost can sink its huge horsey teeth into him again, swooping through somebody's living room and out a window to land a solid punch to the back of its head. He regrets it immediately. Sure, it sounds like the ghost doesn't appreciate getting clocked at something like 60 miles per hour by a guy strong enough to dent steel, but he also earned himself another shock for his effort. It's pure luck his abruptly clamping teeth don't bite his tongue in half.

The ghost peels off, whinnying furiously. Danny doesn't hit the sidewalk four stories below by dint of sheer stubbornness. He groans, residual tremors leaving him feeling nearly as weak as a hit from the stupidly-named Plasmius Maximus. He has to look at his hands to check he hasn't reverted back. It's not even much of a relief to see white gloves instead of human hands; he still has to beat this asshole.

i’m still, still dreaming magnificent things

abrupt(ly): “It’s no different from a child who hides the sheets after he wets the bed,” Dad continues mildly. There’s no anger in his voice, only disappointment. It’s somehow so much worse. “You were running away.”

“Stop it,” Alphonse pleads. “Don’t—”

Ed loses what little restraint he had. Ed screams. “What would you know?! You're the one who left us! You've got no right—!"

And just as abruptly, Ed breaks off, face twisting in some miserable mix of fury and grief as he spins on his heel, making a beeline for the cemetery's entrance.

Alphonse jumps in front of Dad the moment he sees his mouth open to call after Ed. "Leave it alone. Please, Dad, don't push him—"

your head will lie in dust

abrupt:  “Damn,” Zampano mutters. “I got it,” Ed says, and claps his hands. 

Hohenheim hauls Zampano back as hungry tongues of red light lash out from Ed's feet, deconstructing without bias, reconstructing with shocking speed. The different materials smear and tangle with one another to create a clear path, abstract and abrupt, scaly with transmutation marks sharp enough to cut. Concrete and steel melt, waxlike, into each other. Blue uniform fabric is pinned in place by rivets of yellow bone. Pink muscle ribbons through soft organ meat and polished boot leather. Pale fluids streak down the walls as the transmutation light dies out. The sudden sunlight is blinding after long minutes in near-darkness.

“Damn,” Zampano mutters again, far more shaken.

key: Nazeri cackles. So much for avoiding civil war. Just imagine!

Hohenheim smiles to himself, slotting Lan Fan’s arm into its port and reaching for the hex key he needs to connect the nerves. They’ll just have to wait and see how well Ling Yao and Greed share the throne, won’t they?

O God, Nur groans. Anything but that.

scare: Mei Chang finds him here. She is small, young, fragile. Twelve years old? Thirteen? Only a little younger than his boys, and all alone in this vast and echoing wasteland. “Are you all right?”

He smiles, because that’s what people are supposed to do when someone is concerned; reassure and lie in order to placate social norms. “I’m fine, thank you.”

She eyes him, fidgeting. Thoughts weigh down her shoulders.

You make her nervous, Hohenheim, Shahzad says, delighted.

Rostami laughs. Scare her out of her wits, I think. The other two have been gossiping.

And she’s the only alkahestrist of the lot, Samad adds. You remember how those dusty scholars prettied up your life into neat fables. She must be so disappointed to meet the great Sage himself and have him turn out to be you.

tie: It’s evening now, and [redacted] have been given rooms near the makeshift infirmary. They’ve both recovered from [redacted], at least enough that they no longer stumble or slur, but they’re too exhausted to keep their eyes open. Hohenheim can only imagine what it must be like for them, reconciling how cavernous a body is with only one soul rattling around inside it. How well did he tie their souls to their flesh, their minds to their brains? Do their own thoughts echo out in those empty spaces he didn’t heal right?

Only time will tell.

=

I tag @kinglazrus, @x-rainflame-x, @thephilosophersapprentice, @presumenothing, and @zombiemerlin!

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? Ch. 7

Previous | Fic Post Master List

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove.  He wants to marry him--as friends--so they'll always be together, and he's going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off.  Also he's in a band, and they run a bar.Billy's buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation.  Also he's just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, "I can't take this anymore."

Steve talked Billy’s ear off for hours—rehearsal wasn’t until the afternoon—and listened to Billy on speaker, making himself granola and yogurt, a protein shake, and doing his workout.

“S-sorry,” Billy grunted, lifting weights, and Steve felt heat all across his face again. His hands had gone all sweaty, like Billy was some—like he was an older, cooler kid at school that Steve wanted to impress. Which was stupid, Steve told himself, because Billy was a normal dude, living in a grotty apartment with carpet the color of used diapers.

“...whatcha doing,” Steve asked, considering going for a run, since he couldn’t settle.

“Triceps,” Billy huffed, and Steve couldn’t help picturing Billy’s arms, the way they strained the tight sleeves of his jacket. “Uh,” Billy panted. “Play me something?”

“Oh, uh, sure, okay,” Steve laughed, because he hadn’t been sure what to talk about, and he’d been wondering whether to hang up.

“You...driving back Monday?” Billy asked, as Steve opened his guitar case, and considered what to play.

“Nah, I got rehearsals,” Steve said distractedly, and then realized as he started tuning that Billy’d been quiet a while. “...hon?” he asked, and then bit his lips together, flushing, as something crashed on Billy’s end, and he yelped. Steve winced, grimacing. “Sorry.”

“Am I your honey now?!” Billy asked, snickering. “Y’know…” he said, and Steve relaxed, a little, because he could hear the smile. “—for somebody who’s always worried he’s too much, I feel like you’re never around.”

“Well, you left, shithead,” Steve pointed out. “You skipped out on our damn slumber party.”

“I thought I’d see you in a few days, asshole,” Billy shot back, laughing. “Didn’t know I was signing up to be, like, a band widow.”

“I thought maybe you’d want some space, I told ‘em I’d stick around a while,” Steve admitted, laughing.

“I don’t want space from you, moron,” Billy hissed, and Steve let that settle over him, soaking into him like water on a dried out sponge. He could feel himself getting soft and gushy, and his eyes went a little blurry.

“I—I’ll tell ‘em I need to wrap it up,” he said, kinda hoarsely. “I’ll, um. I’ll be back. Soon. After next weekend maybe?”

“I mean, do what you need to do, it’s your job,” Billy muttered, but he sounded kinda pouty, and Steve laughed.

“You know I’m only here ‘cause I was scared of scaring you off,” Steve told him, and Billy sighed.

“You’re not gonna, moron,” he said, and Steve pushed that into the back of his head to think about later, and dove into practicing songs for their wedding, until Billy was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“So next week,” Steve said, finally, as Billy’s panting giggles petered off. “You marrying me?”

“Jesus,” Billy mumbled, muffled-sounding, and Steve remembered he’d said he was curling up on the couch.

“You don’t gotta,” Steve told him, seriously. “I won’t—I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I know you don’t—want to, as much, uh, as I do—but if you do want to, I wanna—I wanna plan—make some plans, y’know. Um, make it—make it nice.”

“Make it nice,” Billy repeated, sounding less grouchy than usual, and more in shock, and Steve wanted again to just load everybody Billy’d ever dated into cement shoes and then a dump truck, and tip them into Lake Superior.

“Yeah, nothing super fancy, I mean, but a cake, maybe some friends?”

“...friends. Wait, your friends?” Billy asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to tell Robin she was right the whole time, I’m gay for you and I love you. I mean, it’s half true.”

“...half true,” Billy said, sounding strangled.

“I mean,” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat, again, and rubbing his face. “It’s just—it’s not like we’re really marrying for taxes, right. I—I gotta love you to wanna marry you this bad.” Billy made a weird noise on the other end, and Steve winced. “Uh,” he said, grimacing, “—so I thought I’d just—just tell her she’s right, you know? Tell the band and everybody—okay, you’re right, I do, I do love him, we’re getting married, bring us presents?”

“...you wanna tell everybody you’re bi and invite them to the wedding,” Billy repeated blankly.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Steve said, pacing around. “It’s logical, okay—”

“It’s logical,” Billy repeated, and Steve hissed.

“Ssssht! Look, I know this dude who can perform weddings, alright? We can do it somewhere nice! Nicer than the courthouse. Have Jonathan take some photos.”

“Photos,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned.

“I want photos! We’re gonna look nice!”

“...this…” Billy said, into the silence, and took a shaky breath. “Steve, this—this sounds like a real wedding.”

“Well, yeah, you told me to get a license and shit, right, it is a real wedding.”

“No, I mean,” Billy said, and then paused. “...I—I mean it sounds real, like you—like you want to—to be married—”

He cut off, and Steve waited, and then blew his cheeks out in frustration, and took a deep breath. “We don’t have to,” he said again, shutting his eyes. “You say the word and I’ll just—I’ll drop it, okay, I promise. I won’t—I won’t call you husband anymore—”

Billy made a wheezing noise, and Steve waited to see if he’d talk, but he didn’t.

“Billy. Just tell me if I’m—being too much. I’ll back off, I promise.”

“You’re not too much,” Billy said instantly, and Steve swallowed, grabbing the phone with both hands, and wishing he was holding Billy. “You’re not, you—you’re fine, uh. Just. Are you...sure. I’m what you want.”

“You’re exactly who I want,” Steve growled. “If you don’t wanna wedding I’ll just keep coming to see you, and—and I’ll keep annoying the shit out of you at work, and dragging you over for slumber parties, and when one of us drinks too much we can stay together so nobody falls down any stairs, and…”

“...hugs,” Billy sighed, and Steve flushed, nodding.

“And when you’re having a shitty day I’ll pick you up again and carry your muscled ass around until you feel better,” he promised. “Wish I was doing that.”

“And you want me to sleep in your bed,” Billy said, flatly, but Steve was ready for that sticking point.

“I’ll order a couch I can sleep on,” he said quickly. “Or we can move somewhere with more rooms. Two people paying rent, right? We can get something nice.”

“...we should just up and buy something, then,” Billy laughed. “All your rockstar money.”

“Okay,” Steve said instantly, and Billy made a weird choking noise. “No, shut up, listen, it makes sense, right, we’ll be together, we can have our own place. I can soundproof a room to practice in.”

“...picket fence and a dog,” Billy laughed, unevenly, and Steve wished violently that he could grab the dumbass and squeeze him until he stopped freaking out.

“You want a dog, you get a dog,” he said quietly. “You can have five. Ten.” Billy was quiet on the other end for a long time, and Steve bit his lips together. “...up to you what you want, okay?” he said finally, and heard Billy take a shuddery breath.

“Gimme a chance to tell my sister,” he said, and Steve bit his lips, nodding. “Let her...try and talk me out’ve it. Or she’ll punch me in the head.”

“Okay,” Steve laughed, his stomach falling a little.

“A-and then—fine. Not—not this weekend. N-next. Weekend. She’s not gonna talk me out of it, so. Let’s,” Billy said hoarsely. “Let’s—let’s do it. A-a wedding. The whole—the whole works. If you—if you’re willing to give it to me, I’ll take it. Fucking—moron not to take it. Gimme—everything.”

Steve yelped a laugh and covered his mouth, his vision going blurry. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Holy shit, yes. Gonna—gonna sweep you off your feet. I gotta—I gotta go, I gotta plan our wedding—”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing too, kinda wet and sniffly, but still a laugh, and Steve couldn’t help giggling too.

“I’m gonna make you so goddamn happy,” he threatened. “You’re not gonna know what the fuck hit you.”

“Says you,” Billy snorted. “Maybe I’ll make you the happiest moron alive—”

“You will,” Steve breathed, and Billy made a strangled choking noise again, yelled ‘fuck you, Harrington’, and hung up. Steve flopped onto his back on the bed and screamed until the neighboring rooms banged on the walls. “Holy shit,” he panted, wiping his eyes. “Holy fuck.”

He dialled Robin.

“Hey there, heterosexual white male,” she answered, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m gay and you should come to our wedding,” he said, and she actually paused, for a second.

“...bi?” she suggested, and Steve grimaced.

“Um, whichever. I’m marrying Billy for, um, fucking reasons. I’m gonna suck his cock. I’m telling the truth now.”

“...for some reason that makes it feel like you aren’t,” she said slowly, and Steve groaned.

“We will be having butt sex,” he tried, and she was quiet for a while.

“What’s going on,” she said finally.

“You were right,” he tried, frustrated. “I was wrong, I—I am marrying Billy for—for totally normal reasons, you’re my friend, you have to come!”

“...totally normal reasons,” she repeated.

“Normal, uh, absolutely normal gay sex reasons,” he hissed. “You were right, it’s gay sex reasons. Gonna—gonna let him put his, um, his dick, uh, up my poop chute.”

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, cackling. “Steve, what the fuck is going on?!”

“Up my...ass?” he corrected uncertainly, and she laughed harder.

“Steve!”

“Yessss?” he hissed, aggravated.

“What the actual fuck? What are you even—”

“You said it was obvious!” he growled back at her. “You were right! I give in! I’m gay and I’m gay-marrying Billy and we’re having gay dog babies! You were right and you have to come to my super gay wedding!”

“...gay dog babies,” she said, sounding mystified.

“Look, are you coming, or what,” he huffed, and she made a weird muppety honking noise. Because they’d been friends a long time, he could imagine the exaggerated face she was making. He glared at the wall. “You gonna miss my wedding?”

“No?!” she sputtered. “I just—you sound like a cartoon, what’s even happening?!”

“I’m marrying Billy,” Steve said, again. “Weekend after next. I want—I want it nice, y’know, I want pictures and...things.”

“Awww, you’re such a dork,” Robin laughed. “When?”

“Help me get everyone there, d’you think, like, Saturday morning would work?”

“Cake for breakfast,” Robin said thoughtfully, but then sighed. “It’s a long drive, man, how early?”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing. “What about afternoon? After lunch?”

“There is gonna be cake, right,” she said, and he nodded as he answered.

“‘Course. You think I’m gonna marry my man without cake?”

“That sounded more real,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll get Jonathan and Joyce up there. You know Dustin is gonna actually kill you.”

“He’ll have to fight Nancy,” Steve said grimly. “She’s gonna break my neck. I’m kinda afraid to tell her, honestly, she always said she’d be my Best Woman.”

“I sure don’t wanna do all that planning,” Robin said, “Though the bachelor’s party sounds fun. I know this is a bizarre idea,” she said, laughing, “—but like. You could wait.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve said, registering a little whine in his voice, and Robin cracked up laughing. “What if he changes his mind,” Steve muttered, like a totally reasonable adult, and she laughed harder.

“You could just bone him,” she suggested.

“Ah,” Steve said, grimacing. “Yeah, um. That’s—I am, um, just, like, really...horny. And he’s, uh, he’s saving himself for marriage. So, um, we gotta. We gotta tie the knot, to, uh, to do the do. Do the butt. Stuff.”

Robin whooped with laughter. “Now I know that’s not true,” she snickered, and Steve had a horrible image pop into his head of Billy taking dates home.

“...oh,” he said. “Is—is he—has he been—”

“He’s not cheating on you,” she groaned, laughing. “But he got around before you swept him off his feet, y’know. And he wasn’t married before, moron, you think he got a divorce or something from that asswipe? He was living in sin.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, sighing with relief. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Come back tonight and shove him over the bar before he dies of horniness,” she suggested, and Steve’s dick twitched, like that was even anything he should be imagining.

“Ungh,” he said, around something in his throat.

She groaned. “You two are giving me blue balls, and that’s weird in so many ways.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying not to imagine grabbing Billy by the collar and pushing him against anything, while Billy laughed and licked his lips. Billy was so much heavier than anyone Steve had dated, solid and strong and warm, and Steve felt a pang of loneliness, sitting there on his motel bed.

“I’m just saying,” Robin sing-songed. “I mean, if you really wanna marry him, good for you two, but like. Don’t be surprised when Dustin fills all your shoes with Jell-O, keys your car, and puts dye in your showerhead so it looks like The Shining when you turn it on—”

“Holy crap,” Steve mumbled, grimacing.

“Nancy’s gonna probably ask you shit like ‘when did you first know you were in love with him?’” Robin asked, her voice sugary.

When he made fun of my Youtube channel for hours, Steve thought, sighing as he remembered Billy sitting on the bar, singing along.

“...anyway, I’m marrying him,” he mumbled, huffily. “You can come if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll be there,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t miss your gay butt sex marriage for the world.”

“If you’re nice,” he hissed. “There’s gonna be cake if you’re not an asshole.”

“Maybe I’ll eat cake and then tell him how dumb you sound,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve winced.

“No, don’t, don’t tell him it sounded like I...didn’t want to, he’s already freaked out.”

“...hrm,” she said. “Did you sound as stupid saying it to him?”

“He said yes,” Steve pointed out, because he wasn’t sure.

“What the fuck did you even say? Put a ring on it for ass access?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, jesus, I just said I wanted to.”

“Hrrmmm,” she said. “This sounds deeply suspicious, and I’m not sure why.”

“It does not,” Steve told her, huffily, and she snorted a laugh.

Telling his bandmates went better. Steve kept it simple—‘Come to our wedding! There’s cake!’—and when they started to tease him he just agreed with everything they said until they stopped talking.

Finally, he called Billy again. “Do you still want Captain America and the Winter Soldier on the cake,” he asked anxiously, because everyone was laughing at him, and he was starting to want to just elope. “I mean, they’re friends. Just friends. And we’re pretending that, um.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Billy muttered. “Yeah, sure, Steve, with you to the end of the line.”

“We could get something else if you want,” Steve said lamely. “I’ve seen, um, sometimes they have Hot Wheels. Get you a Camaro.”

“Y’know I never thought I’d say this, but I think the superheroes sound more like a grownup wedding cake, let’s go with them,” Billy said, obviously trying not to laugh, and Steve both wanted to shove him, and pull him into a hug.

“Love you,” he said, automatically, and Billy made a squeaking grunt noise, like a large truck trying to brake on a hill.

“...don’t break me before the wedding,” he muttered, and Steve realized if it was a real wedding, he’d make a joke there, something like ‘oh no, I’ll save that for after’.

He smacked his hand over his face. “Um. Everyone’s, uh, coming. Jonathan’s—he’s gonna take pictures. Of us. Everyone.”

“With our action figure cake toppers,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve winced a little, because he didn’t want his wedding to Billy to be stupid, something people laughed at.

He swallowed hard. “Um, yeah.”

“...you still there?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, then realized that wasn’t helpful.

“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Billy laughed. “You changing your mind already?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, no, I’m not, I just. I—want to.”

“...but?” Billy asked quietly.

“Everyone I know is an asshole,” Steve said frankly. “I thought they could, y’know, maybe be happy for me, but apparently they’re pricks, so—”

“You know you’re marrying one of those pricks,” Billy said, like Steve wasn’t aware.

“I know I’m marrying my favorite, and everybody else can go fuck themselves,” Steve muttered, and Billy laughed.

“Well, you change your mind, you let me know,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll let them have cake if they promise to bring rad presents,” Steve allowed, relaxing a little.

“If not, I’ll throw them out for you,” Billy promised, and Steve’s heart warmed with the image of Billy carrying a yelling Robin over his head out the door.

He brought up the Costco cake-ordering website, and to his horror, there was nothing brand-name on it. “Billy,” he said bleakly. “There’s not even Spiderman.”

“We don’t want Spiderman anyway,” Billy said reassuringly, “—what would we do, have one of us be Doc Ock? Two lawfully wedded Spidermans? Send me the link.”

Steve copied and pasted it in as a text, staring at the puffy dinosaurs and soccer balls. “...it says some lady returned a dinosaur cake because she thought the shape of the visible feet made up the number 666,” he mumbled.

“...there’s a princess clown cake,” Billy snickered, and Steve imagined himself wedded with a clown cake. Perfect.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Maybe I should just get a plain white one. Maybe there’s a cake supply place where I can get a little groom and groom.”

“I’ll get a little Bucky and Steve if you want,” Billy said, laughing.

“Nah, it was dumb,” Steve said, sighing. “I just—”

“I’ll get them,” Billy promised, and Steve laughed, his smile going a little goofy, but he let it, because it wasn’t like anybody was there to see.

“...really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ll get my best guy his little superhero toys. I got this.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed. “Fuck. Love you, man, seriously.”

“...they gotta be on eBay or something,” Billy muttered distractedly, and Steve listened, grinning at the wall.

He decided it wasn’t so bad if the wedding was a little silly, as long as he got to marry Billy Hargrove, in the end.

The cake was easy—the lady paused for a long second when he said he wanted to put Bucky Barnes and Captain America in a heart, and then she suggested some stars as well. The little yard by the bar where they performed was public space, and the owner said it would be empty in the afternoon. He checked the weather, and it wasn’t even supposed to rain.

Billy drove back out on Friday, and Steve looked out mid-performance to see him dancing with a red-headed woman. The song ended, and Steve tried not to long to be her—not that it wouldn’t be weird to suddenly have boobs and get talked down to at job interviews, but it seemed, for a few minutes at least, like it’d even out if he could have Billy pull him onto the dance floor with a soft smile and an arm around Steve’s waist. His eyes stung a little thinking about it—Billy liking it when Robin teased them about being a couple, instead of going tense and grim, Billy smiling when Steve held his hand, instead of looking down at their linked hands like Steve was doing something bizarre.

Billy wanting to stay in Steve’s hotel room, and next to him in bed.

The thought of what Steve might have discovered had Tommy not ghosted him reared its ugly head again, and Steve swallowed it back, lowering his gaze to his guitar to check the tuning during the applause. It wasn’t like he’d actually leaned in and tasted Tommy’s panting mouth, he told himself. There was nothing concrete he should have told Billy—and Billy didn’t mind him, mostly, as long as he didn’t push too hard.

Maybe he wouldn’t even have liked it, he thought guiltily, and he was tying himself in knots for no reason at all. It was probably weird, kissing somebody with...stubble, and a muscled chest, and broad, warm shoulders. Somebody with a cock in his pants. The idea of a dick up his ass had always made Steve wrinkle his nose a little—everything he’d read said it took a while, right when things started heating up, and sometimes people hated it, and he’d already done his time in that didn’t-know-what-he-was-doing-in-bed phase already.

He grimaced, remembering Mandi, who’d had to stop a kiss, cough, and tell him not to choke her with his tongue—and then he couldn’t help imagining Billy—Tommy—a man—stomping out on their wedding night, because Steve was so awful at ass sex. Billy’d left when Steve was just too weird the week before, with the suits and the thongs and everything.

Steve wondered, suddenly, if he’d been so bad at handjobs that was the reason Tommy had left, and he had to bite back hysterical laughter onstage.

When he glanced up again—a few measures into a song he was performing entirely from muscle memory—Billy’s head was tipped back laughing, and Steve jerked his attention back to his guitar again to avoid thinking about kissing along his fiance’s adam’s apple. Steve focused on the music, singing with gusto, and once the set was over, somebody smacked his back and said, “You were great once you woke up, man.”

Billy waved, and Steve waved back, automatically, trying not to stare at where Billy’s arm was around the woman’s shoulders—and then with a swell of relief that hit him like a tall wave, he registered her Camaro tattoo that matched Billy’s skateboard, and realized, light-headedly, that she was Billy’s sister. Billy was frowning a little, and Steve grinned easily back at him. Billy watched him warily, and Steve pointed to his ring finger and kissed it, then watched Billy nearly disappear into the shouting crowd, his red, smiling face obscured by his hand.

By the time Steve got off the stage, put his guitar in its case, and figured out the next day’s practice, Billy and his sister were gone. There was a text on Steve’s phone with the address where they were having dinner—a Korean barbeque place, open until 3am. It was nearly one.

When Steve showed up at the restaurant—his heart pounding, and his palms sweaty, because Billy obviously listened to his sister, and he’d probably call the whole stupid plan off if Steve couldn’t win her over—he had an edible bouquet and his nicest shirt on.

Billy was already at a table, and as Steve walked closer, he could hear a woman’s voice saying “No, come on, I’m not saying that. I’m kinda worried you feel the need to be drunk introducing me to him—”

“Hey, babe,” Steve cut her off, leaning around the corner of the booth to kiss the side of Billy’s head over his ear, since he had his head in his arms. “How you doin’?”

Billy groaned. He smelled of tequila, and his sister levelled a deeply suspicious glower at Steve.

“Nice bouquet,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That from a fan?”

“No, it’s for Billy,” Steve huffed, and Billy raised his head to blink woozily at the skewered pineapple flowers. “Didn’t figure you’d wanna juggle driving flowers home in a hot car. At least you can eat these.”

“Hrm,” said his sister, frowning at Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asked Billy, and he nodded, rubbing his face and groaning into his fingers.

“...get something in my stomach,” he muttered. “Drinking on an empty stomach.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, wondering, as he exchanged glances with Billy’s sister, if he should come clean.

“I’m gonna hit the can,” Billy said, lurching to his feet, and Steve scrambled out of the booth to let him pass.

“So this is all happening kinda fast,” Billy’s sister said crisply, and Steve blinked at her. Her frown was darker than her brother’s.

“...I guess?” he said, cautiously. “Once he finally said yes, I didn’t wanna wait until he changed his mind, kinda?”

“...finally?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I mean, I told him I’ll stop asking if he wants, and nothing changes, I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I’m not—he said he doesn’t feel, like, pressured,” Steve said quickly, clutching at the menu.

“...how long you been asking?” she muttered, glancing towards the bathrooms.

“...almost as long as I’ve known him,” Steve admitted, wincing. “I can see why he didn’t take it serious—”

“...how long is that,” she said, raising her eyebrows, but she was starting to look entertained instead of worried.

“...months?” Steve mumbled. “He got hired after Christmas, right? I think I first asked him in...oh, maybe May or June?”

“...so an October wedding isn’t a huge rush,” she said, relaxing back against her seat with a sigh. “Jesus, Billy. I thought he met you, like, last week. How’d you even...you’ve been long-distance this whole time? He gonna quit his job and move out here? Has he been driving out here to meet you this whole year and he’s just telling me he was in the neighborhood?!”

Steve realized he was a very well kept secret, and waved his hands. “No, no! I work at the same place he does! I’m just here for a couple weeks. I live a fifteen minute drive from him. Usually.”

“...huh,” she said, thoughtfully. “So he’ll keep his job? That’s cool, I think he likes it a lot.”

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Steve said, realizing it had been a while, and also that she was starting to grin with delight, and it kind of made her look like a shark.

Billy was leaning against the sink with his back towards the mirrors, rubbing his face.

“You okay?” Steve asked, sidling around to see his face, and he nodded.

“...yeah,” he mumbled. “I just—I, um,” he cleared his throat, wiping his eyes, and Steve stepped closer.

“You wanna hug,” he asked, just to be sure, and Billy laughed.

“God, yes,” he whispered, and then oofed as Steve yanked him in, squeezing him tight around the shoulders and waist, and nuzzling into the curls at Billy’s neck. “Fuck,” Billy breathed, relaxing against him. “...missed this.”

“You can always have one,” Steve told him, sliding a hand up through the hair at the back of Billy’s head to cup the nape of his neck. “Tell me and I’ll drive out. Just—drop everything. ‘Kay?”

“Shit,” Billy sighed, shakily. “...kinda feel like I’m lying to her, letting her think we’re like...romantic,” he said thickly, “—but this is enough. Right? Fuck. Long’s you don’t get bored.”

“Not gonna get bored,” Steve said, cautiously. “...you, um. You...mean that? Thought maybe you were...y’know, second thoughts. When I saw the tequila shots.”

“No, no, no no no,” Billy mumbled, pushing him back so their faces were a couple inches apart, and Steve could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Uh,” Billy said, wiping his eyes again, and then cupping Steve’s face earnestly with both hands. “Thought I...thought I’d marry somebody...wanted to kiss me,” he slurred, and Steve winced.

“I can kiss you if you want,” he offered, his skin heating feverishly. “If—if you, uh, if you...want me to, I can—at least at the wedding—”

“Nope,” Billy said, brushing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, and grinning, a little. “See? You—you’re enough. Somebody...loving me. Loving me that much, you—you’re not too much. You’re just enough, Steve.”

“...I’m...enough?” Steve whispered back, the words hitting him a little harder than he expected. He took a long, shaky breath, staring into Billy’s red-rimmed blue-grey eyes.

“You’re...perfect, perfectly...dumb, perfect...Steve,” Billy stumbled over his words, frowning in concentration, and licked his lips. “You’re ‘nough. Be happy f’rever with my...Steve. You don’t gotta do...anything. Nothing diff’rent. Jus’ right. Not too much.”

“...okay,” Steve whispered back, swallowing. His eyes were stinging, his vision going blurry, and he sniffled, reaching up to rub his nose as Billy’s warm thumbs wiped under his eyelashes.

“M’ so lucky,” Billy mumbled, yanking him into a tight hug again. “Lucky I met you. Lucky you’re...Steve. Thanks, Steve. Don’ change.”

“...sure, man,” Steve choked out, his lungs jerking a little as he tried to breathe. “Love you too,” he whispered, as Billy squeezed him tighter.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Omg I've been binge reading all your Klaus fics and can I just say you are an AMAZING writer and I'd straight up buy your novel in a heartbeat if you write one. The way you use words and make me feel things, I can't even! ❤️ I saw your requests are open so I wanna request a Klaus fic where the reader takes care of him after he comes home all messed up.. like runs him a bath, gives him a haircut, cooks him food and puts him to bed...You can make it NSFW too in the end, I surely won't complain ;)

A/N: Listen, I think like 25-50% of why I love Klaus is the mere concept of caring for him when he needs it, so this was an excellent prompt. Thank you so much! (I hope you enjoy it even though it didn’t end up getting NSFW) Word Count: 2197 Content Warning: T - withdrawal, references to drug use

You weren’t really paying attention to the familiar hallway of your apartment building, too busy juggling groceries in the struggle to find the right key. You had lived in this building for three and a half years now, it wasn’t like you needed to look where you were going, instinct guiding up the stairs and along to your own front door. Which is why when a figure lurched out of the shadows, stumbling toward you, you were completely unprepared. You screamed, dropping both your keyring and the bags of groceries on your arms as you threw your hands up in defense. The back of your mind registered the sound of something cracking, probably your eggs as they hit the tile floor. The rest of you was focused on the hundred and twenty or so pounds of human body crashing into you. You felt the fuzz of ragged fur and well-worn leather beneath your fingers as you tried to steady the both of you.

Finally you registered the sweaty, washed-out face.

“Klaus?” you asked, recognizing your neighbor.

He had only moved into your building a few months ago, but you two had quickly become friends, chatting – okay maybe you, at least, were flirting but it’s not like it was going to go anywhere, not really – in the mailroom or when you passed each other coming and going. A few times, you had invited him over for dinner or he had talked you into spending more hours than any human reasonably should watching movies, stretched out together on his couch. But you had never seen him like this.

“Oh hey, Y/N,” he trilled, trying to act normally even as he swayed again and you reached out to brace him. “Don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m…not doing so hot and I didn’t know where else to go.”

You frowned in concern and ushered him inside, only belatedly remembering your groceries and going back for them after you had guided him to a seat in your living room.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you began to put things away and waited for him to settle. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you just got dragged through hell and then spat back out the other side.”

He chuckled, more of a defeated escape of air than an actual laugh. “I feel like it too.”

You frowned at the eggs, completely ruined. The carton of orange juice was dented and wouldn’t sit right on the shelf but it was whole. Tomatoes: bruised, blueberries: free range in the grocery bag. Klaus didn’t seem inclined to say anything more, not that he had really said anything yet, anything of substance.

“You said you didn’t know where else to go?” you prompted, trying a different angle.

“I haven’t had anything in days,” he explained vaguely before doubling over to press his head between his knees. “Christ I feel like shit,” he groaned.

Something about the way he said it registered in your mind enough for you to figure out what was going on.

“Withdrawal?” you asked simply, moving to sit on the couch, turning your body into the arm of it so you could face him.

He nodded, looking up at you with red-rimmed eyes.

“So why come to me? I don’t…I mean I can’t help you get a fix.”

“I know. I didn’t think you could. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Okay. Do you need anything? Is there any way I can help?”

He shrugged, shivering despite the sheen of sweat on his brow. His tongue darted out to lick his chapped lips and you tried to resist the urge to trace its path with your eyes. He looked like he just might curl up in your chair and go to sleep, and if that was what he really wanted, you would let him. However, he was sick, and he had come to you, and if he couldn’t tell you what he needed, you would just have to try everything until something helped.

A moment later, you had put the kettle on for some tea and were handing him a drink of cool water.

“Here, drink this,” you said, pressing the thick green glass into his hand. “I’ll make you some tea, mint to help with any nausea, but that’s going to take a bit to be ready. Are you hungry? I was planning a bolognese but I can do something lighter instead. Maybe some soup?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that, Y/N…”

“When is the last time you ate?”

He frowned, blinking heavily and turning his head to stare into the space beside him as if your end table held the answer to your question. “I can’t remember.” He paused. “No, we had waffles…was it really that long ago?”

“Right,” you said, a little concerned that he almost seemed to be having a conversation with someone who wasn’t there. “That settles it, I’m making dinner.”

Decision made, you stood once more and began bustling about your kitchen. He grimaced as you chopped the vegetables and herbs for the stock and you winced, apologizing quickly and trying your best to chop quietly.

“So why are you…I mean why haven’t you…used…in a few days? I’m not an expert but isn’t cold turkey super not the recommended method to break an addiction?”

“Hm?” he asked, startling as if you had woken him from dozing. “What was that?” He turned around in the chair to blink at you over the counter.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had fallen asleep, you can go back to it if you want…”

“No, no, it’s fine. But I didn’t hear your question.”

“Oh, well I was just wondering why the cold turkey? Especially since it doesn’t exactly seem planned?”

“Dealer got picked up,” he said, stifling another yawn. “Most of the others around are too scared of the cops to take a new client.”

You nodded, surprised at how casual he was being about the whole thing.

“It’ll blow over in a few more days, and everything will be fine. I hope.” His voice dropped on the last remark and you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear it, so you decided not to comment.

Instead, you watched with a frown as he stifled another yawn.

“You know, the soup’s going to take a while, if you want to try and get some sleep while you wait?” you offered.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Sleep is when they find me easiest. God so many grabbing hands. And the screaming. Always screaming.” He shivered, not from cold or the lack of chemicals or for the drama, but in obvious, genuine fright.

“Oh.” You frowned and bit your lip. “Is there anything I can…do?” you felt yourself flush with embarrassment as soon as the words left your lips, certain that they would sound far less innocent and well-meaning that you had intended them.

“Well,” he drawled, trailing off in thought. “Sometimes they’ll stay at bay for a bit if I’m not alone?”

“Okay. Well, there’s not really a lot of room for both of us on the couch, so we could take a nap in my…bed…but, and don’t take this the wrong way, you’re kind of gross…so would you mind maybe showering first?”

He laughed, high and light and it made you smile, sounding a bit more like his usual self. “No offense taken. Ooh, do you have a tub? I would love a bath…”

You raised your eyebrow curiously but nodded.

His hands clapped together giddily.

You padded to your room to dig out a spare towel and were about to give it to him when another thought occurred: he had nothing to put on after except the clothes he was currently sweating through and hadn’t been cleaned in who knew how long. Rooting through your drawers you eventually found a pair of fluffy pink and blue striped pajama pants and an old t-shirt from the Led Zeppelin concert you had gone to in high school which looked like they might fit him.

“Y/N, you are an absolute angel,” he said dramatically as you handed him the stack.

“Can you handle it on your own or…?” you trailed off, feeling awkward about your unspoken offer to help him bathe, but only a few moments before he had been practically falling asleep into his glass, and he had been unsteady on his feet in the hall.

“Oh I’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively before he suddenly turned his puppy-dog green eyes on you. “Unless you wanted to. It really helps me relax to have someone wash my hair for me…”

You felt the hot blush creep across your face and down your neck again as you bit your lip.

“O…okay…” you stammered nervously.

“Perfect, now I’ll just go in there and slip under the suds and I’ll shout for you when I’m decent.”

“There’s nothing decent about you,” you muttered under your breath. “And I think you might be trying to give me a heart attack.”

He winked at you as he passed you and you knew he had heard you.

~

A few moments later, you had set the soup to simmer low on the stove and were kneeling on the uncomfortable tile of your bathroom floor behind Klaus. Your fingers were buried in his sopping hair, gently lathering the practically candy-scented shampoo into it. His eyes were closed, head tilted slightly back, exposing the column of his throat to you tantalizingly, and the sounds he made, practically purring at your touch, had you thinking all sorts of untoward thoughts. You had to keep reminding yourself that you were just trying to help him and that it probably meant nothing to him in his muddled state.

Finally, after maybe a little longer playing with scrubbing his hair than necessary, you scooped up some of the water to rinse away the soap. As you did, your fingertips brushed along his exposed neck and shoulders and he moaned.

“Do that again. Please,” he begged.

Heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it behind him, you did as he asked, dancing your fingertips along the planes and angles of his skin before digging them in just a little, gently, massaging him.

“Christ, Y/N, that feels so good,” he sighed.

‘The water’s getting cold,” you pointed out, a little breathless from the way he said your name. “And you’re going to turn into a prune if you spend any more time in there. You should probably get out.”

He turned his head, craning to look at you. “Would you like to stay and watch?”

Caught off-guard, you stared at him, gaping like a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing. Then you stood, racing from the room, his lilting laughter following you. You practically threw yourself onto your mattress, hoping that the few minutes it would take for him to get out of the tub and dress would be enough for you to calm your frantic pulse before you actually exploded.

You also realized that you were in a now-damp pair of jeans and a button-down and that wouldn’t be very comfortable if you fell asleep in it, so you quickly changed into a baggy shirt and shorts, settling them on your hips just as the door creaked in and Klaus entered, bare-chested but fitting into your pants better than you ever had.

“Why are you doing all this for me, Y/N?” he asked, sitting beside you, still tousling his curls with the towel.

“Because you’re my friend and you asked me for help,” you said as if it were obvious.

“You could have turned me away and told me not to bother you with. Other people have.”

“No I couldn’t have,” you smiled softly. “I care about you too much to do that.”

Suddenly his lips were on yours, surging forward hot and hungry and desperate. You moaned as his tongue parted your lips somewhat forcefully and he pressed you backward onto the bed. You fingers tangled into his hair, tugging on it and causing him to inhale sharply. One of his hands, still chilled and shaking slightly, found its way beneath your waistband, sliding easily past the slightly worn elastic. You hissed as he moved your underwear out of the way and made contact with your skin.

“Klaus…wait…” you gasped out, pushing at his shoulders to move him away from you.

He pulled back immediately, looking at you with a mix of concern and fear.

“What is it? Did I…?” he murmured, apology already dancing on his tongue.

You reached up to cup his face between your hands, caressing softly and trying to brush the worried wrinkles from his brow.

“No, Klaus, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you whispered. “I just…I think we should take it slow tonight, okay?”

He nodded carefully, clearly unused to this kind of tenderness, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek before pulling him down beside you, curling around him and running your fingers soothingly through his shaggy hair. He sighed contentedly, snuggling closer and burying his face in your neck.

[shortandverynerdy]

Prologue. Introduce yourself, Olivia.

The shadows have always spoken to me. Even before my quirk developed.

I had always had a fascination with darkness, how it could hide anything and anyone...hide secrets. How it scared some and for others it was their only source of comfort and peace.

But before we get started on this story, let’s get introduced and get that shit over and done with shall we?

‘The names Olivia...Olivia Akamatsu, nice to meet ya.’

People call me a villain, but that’s not true at all...I’m actually a vigilante, taking the law in my own hands to do good in this stupid world, that’s me.

But people, especially the police and pro hero’s just call us villains with hero complexes, and to that I say

Go fuck yourself!

But enough of this dribble, you wanna read the good stuff, right?. Well here you go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was cold, but not overbearingly so as a dark figure scanned the nighttime crowds for any activity. It was mostly filled with people just out of work, or people out for a fun time...nothing out of the ordinary, yet.

A sigh of Boredom escaped from the figure of Olivia Akamatsu as she realised it was possibly going to be a slow patrol night...just perfect. perhaps if it was too slow she'd grab some takoyaki from that one place? he always gives it her on the house.

She was so invested in her thoughts of street food that she didn't register the commotion below her at first untill a shrill desperate voice echoed through the darkened ally, causing Olivia's head to turn and snap to attention. rushing to the edge she spotted a boy, clearly still in high school getting hassled by a group of other boys, clearly older and larger then the one they were hassling. Anger boiled inside her stomach as she watched the scene unfold. Taking a few steps back she dissapeared into a shadow, almost as if the thing had swallowed her whole. Only for her to appear on the ground silently opposite the group. The street lights near had alluminated the scene, causing a large shadow to form...perfect.

With a flick of her wrist their shadow had sprung to life and wrapped around the group, who had kicked the boy to the ground. As they yelled Olivia moved her arm, as if she was pulling hard on a invisable rope and sent the group of boys into the nearest bin, the lid closing behind them at the impact. with another flick of her wrist she gave a small laugh

"That'll keep'em outta our hair for a while"

she said to herself as she walked over to the bin, giving it a sharp kick.

kneeling down she picked up a brown leather wallet, before giving a few taps on the plastic she called out to the group

"So ya think it's ok to beat a poor kid down for his wallet, huh, boys?"

the collective groans from the boys inside made the vigilante smile. The type of smile that screamed that she was enjoying the torment.

"What kinda dirtbags prey on innocent highschool kids for their money...Don't you guys have your own cash to spend on pointless shit?"

she stated as she got up and made her way towards the boy. Pushing her small, red tinted sunglasses up her nose.

The boy had since sat up and was holding his nose. He looked at her with wide eyes as she crouched down to meet his gaze

"Hey, kid...this your wallet?"

she asked, her voice taking on a softer tone. When the boy nodded she placed it into his shirt pocket, an eyebrow raised as she noticed he was covering his nose.

"They've probably broken it...Assholes. May i look at it?"

The boy said nothing but took his hands away to reveal a bloody and obviously broken nose.

"Oh shit, kid that looks disgusting"

She told him, barely managing to hide the amusement in her voice

The kid glared at her, which made Olivia clear her throat.

“Sorry, what’s your name?”

The boy looks down before muttering

“Hajime”

Olivia smiles brightly, her eyes seemed to gleam from behind her glasses

“That’s an awesome name...I’m Olivia nice to-“

Her introduction was cut short by the sounds of voices growing closer.

Weather they were pro hero’s or citizens she didn’t want to stay and find out

“Sorry I gotta bounce, Hajime but those guys are gunna come and they’ll get ya fixed, oh and don’t forget to let them know about the kids in the trash, okay bye now”

She called as she ran into the darkness, her ombré hair dancing like flames as it trailed after her. Disappearing as soon as two pro heros showed up.

Night had officially began as Olivia waded her way through the market place.

The stars were bright and clear and the place was brimming with people and that’s how Olivia liked it, she wouldn’t be recognised as easily in the mass of people around her.

“Well, if it isn’t shadow weaver”

The store clerk called with a wave as he saw Olivia’s vibrant hair, which earned a smile from the vigilante when she finally heard that familiar voice.

“Hey not so loud, Nakamura...I’m sorta wanted ya know”

She said in a lightly teasing tone

Nakamura simply laughed

“Oh I bet you are...quiet day of keeping the streets safe?”

He asked in a interested tone as he turned his back to her to begin to make some food.

Olivia leaned an elbow on the counter, flicking her hair out of her face

“You know it, not many people wanna be criminals tonight it seems”

Nakamura nodded at this as the ingredients started to come together to form the familiar shape of Takoyaki

“Or those pesky pros are beating you to the punch”

Olivia sighed as she watched him make the food with rapt attention. She had always enjoyed watching him make the food, almost as much as she loved eating it

“You’re probably right, almost seems weird that I wanted to be one when I was a kid”

Nakamura smiles in a sympathetic type of way as he handed her the freshly boxed takoyaki.

“Well, you’re a hero in my eyes, Liv. Don’t forget that”

He told her with a soft smile, which earned a appreciative smile from the young woman

“Heh, thanks man...I’ll never forget the time you cried during my graduation from that place though”

She teased, taking a bite of the ball and walking away as he called her a ‘little shit’ and yelled that he never cried at her graduation (he did)

Welcoming the breeze as it nipped at her face and fingers as she made her way to survey the area near the place she called home.

Olivia’s place was not what you expected.

It was an old abandoned house on the outskirts of Kamino, practically falling apart and left to crumble, to wither away and rot.

But to Olivia it was home, her place of peace. She made her way up the stairs, tossing the empty container into the bag she called a trash bin and towards the bed, a stolen mattress with a multi coloured patchwork blanket and old pillows, too soft to be comfortable.

Throwing herself on the mattress she took out a cardboard packet out of a draw next to her bed and drew a cigarette. With it between her lips she grabs the lighter from the same draw and lights it.

Letting the lighter fall from her hand she falls on the mattress, smoke spilling from her mouth as the weather came to pull a cruel trick and had rain spill into the hole in the ceiling, dotting Olivia’s face with cold water.

She let the water hit her occasionally putting the cigarette to her lips and taking a long, hard drag. Her stomach beginning to ache.

Not even bothered to look at what she was doing Olivia put the cigarette between her lips and with her now free hand pulled a rope hanging by her bed. Releasing a large plank of wood that covered the hole. This was at the expense of a large portion of the national light but to Olivia didn’t mind.

She went to bed with an empty stomach and dreams about hero’s. how she’d alway be telling a lie when she’d tell people she was ashamed to have wanted to be a hero when she was a kid

Olivia still wanted to be a hero.